All it's casked up to be?

I love cask beer, but there's an awful lot of horseshit preached about it, particularly from certain sectors of that lot over to the east of here. One of the observations that often gets trotted out is "I've never had a well-kept cask beer that's not been better than the brewery-conditioned version". Fair enough: you can't argue with anecdotes, but I have a theory that this cask-is-always-best principle only holds up for beers which were designed for cask in the first place. It is, by and large, a British thing, and people who believe it need to get out more.

So, mostly for my own reference, I thought I'd take advantage of this month's Session to examine the handful of beers I know in various dispense formats and see just how often natural condition is the best method of serving.

The two examples I trot out most frequently are Clotworthy Dobbin and Galway Hooker -- two of the best ales in regular production on this island. Bottled Hooker does not yet exist, but I've encountered it on cask on several occasions and it's always lacking. It's very much a hop-driven beer, and the Cascade and Saaz get deliciously propelled by the pressurised CO2, creating a clean, refreshing zingy session beer. When that force is taken away it ends up flat, watery and quite green-tasting, like it's not finished. What it probably needs for cask purposes is a dose of dry hops, but as-is it just doesn't work. Clotworthy also loses its hop character on cask. I'm most familiar with the force-carbonated bottle where late Cascade adds a mouth-watering fruitiness to the dark chocolatey ruby porter. The one time I had it on keg this interplay of malt and hops was even more pronounced, and if it wasn't for a bit of a metallic bum-note on the end, it would have been sublime -- I definitely look forward to seeing the keg version again. But on cask this all gets blended into a homogeneous brown lump, indistinguishable from a zillion other brown beers. A case for dry-hopping again, I reckon. Consider this next to the extremely unhoppy Curim Gold wheat beer from Carlow Brewing. I don't think I've met anyone who likes the dishwater bottled version; the keg edition has more of a fanbase but was still a little soapy for me; but on cask it's stunning -- jam-packed with witbier spice and refreshing lemony zing.

And yet, big hop flavours don't always die in the cask. Porterhouse Hop Head is a beer not at all dissimilar to Galway Hooker -- a bit bigger, a bit bitterer -- and it works equally well from cask, keg and naturally-conditioned bottle. If anything the bitterness is even more extreme in the cask edition, which is why I'd generally opt for it kegged, if given a choice.

Where I've found cask really works best, however, is with black beers. O'Hara's Stout, Porterhouse Plain and Porterhouse Oyster all far outshine their force carbonated incarnations. At least part of this is the unmitigated evil of nitrogenation. I can completely understand why Guinness came up with it: I'd say the early test batches of keg Guinness Extra Stout didn't get very far since the feel of CO2-pressurised draught stout was all wrong. It would have been so good if they'd just said "Well, there you go: you can't keg stout" and went back to casking. Instead, they managed to recreate the texture of the cask beer, but via a method which destroys its taste and aroma. I've met very few beers which are bold enough to stand up to nitro, Wrassler's XXXX being about the only one I can think of, and the Porterhouse have achieved this by brewing a monstrously aggressive stout that's probably undrinkable any other way (bottle-conditioned edition out soon, I hear: beware!). It's a massive shame that even across the water, in the spiritual home of cask beer, the style of beer which works best on cask is overwhelmingly represented by smoothflow keg rubbish. Where are the mainstream cask stouts from Britain's large regional breweries? Why aren't they as ubiquitous as the brown bitter and nitrokeg stout?

I should add that even stout-is-best-on-cask isn't a universal rule. Hilden's Molly's Chocolate Stout manages to dodge most of the rich sumptuous roasty flavours and comes out rather boring and thin. The bottled version at least adds a certain carbonic dryness that makes it a little more interesting. Which brings me on to the beer I'm wedging in for review in this post. It's not one I've had from the cask, but it is bottle-conditioned and wears its "CAMRA says..." badge up front with pride on its neck.

On pouring, Hook Norton Double Stout does a very good impression of a cask stout, coming out smooth and foamy though just a teensy bit overzealous with the carbonation. From the off-white head you get an enticing nosefull of dry and crunchy roasted barley or black malt. The foretaste contrasts this with a silky, creamy, chocolate sensation, followed by a brief tang of hops. Finally, there's a dry finish to clear the palate for the next mouthful. All this complexity on a mere 4.8% ABV makes it nearly perfect as a session stout. I'd love to try it on cask and would be willing to bet that the dryness tones down and even more of that chocolate creaminess comes to the front and hangs around. Yum.

While I remain incredulous in the face of the CO2 fundamentalists, it's only when we turn to stout that I have to bite my lip.

Call and Bustle

The number of pubs around Dublin which carry at least some drinkable beer is getting bigger. Our national microbreweries are doing a great job of getting out there and convincing managers and owners that their product has something going for it. Yet the city's Beer Central remains on a pedestal, and is the subject of this month's Session.

The Bull & Castle has changed a lot since it converted from being a scummy inner city boozer to being the epicentre of Ireland's tentative craft beer revolution. The range of draught beers continues ever upwards, with the wonderful O'Hara's Red being the latest permanent addition to the line-up, while the capacious fridge now includes the two bottle-conditioned Porterhouse beers, Plain and Hop Head. Best of all, earlier this year the management installed a beer engine, whence has poured some great Carlow beers, including two new draught-only dry-hopped ales, Malty Bitches and Goods Store IPA -- both raising the bar for the quality of Irish beer generally.

Any wonder, then, that the Bull & Castle is the headquarters for Dublin's beer aficionados. If this wasn't enough, the home brewers get some fairly special treatment, with the upstairs beerhall hosting a tasting night every month where all-comers can bring their own beers, share them round, and generally geek out on zymurgy.

Of course no proper beer connoisseur is ever completely happy with what pubs do, so it's only fair that I throw in a few criticisms. Top of my list is the halbe glass: a German-style half-litre mug that's the preferred vessel in which most of the beers (though not the cask ones) are served. Aside from not being a proper pint, the tall narrow glass is terrible for bringing out aromas. The restaurantiness of the downstairs bar during the evening is also a bit irksome -- once you have a please-wait-to-be-seated inside the door, you've stopped being a pub. Ordinarily I don't mind nipping up to the beerhall instead, but at weekends that gets impossibly crowded, and with the DJ in full flow it's not the place for a pint and a chat.

But these are minor issues. I remember all too well what Dublin was like in the days when looking for decent beer meant either drink in the Porterhouse or stay home (and of course I still enjoy both). There are beers available today which I doubt would have an outlet but for the Bull & Castle.

This month's Session is called "Stumbling Home", with an emphasis on the transport aspects of beer connoisseurdom. Fortunately the Bull & Castle is a mere three miles or so from my gaff and well served by buses. Dublin's noble city fathers have also seen fit to position a municipal rental bike depot right outside the front door. Even were I possessed of my own motorised transport, I doubt I'd be bringing it the pub.

On one recent stumble home, I brought back a bottle of beer the manager on duty, Declan, had donated to me. It was a sample left by a wholesaler and I had spotted it from my barstool by its unusual bottle shape, but that doesn't seem to have been enough to win it a place on the stocklist. Viru hails from Tartu, though appears to have been commissioned by a UK importer. It's not too bad, I thought, being sweet and smooth, in the style of a Munich helles. I don't know how long it had been sitting in that fridge, but it could definitely benefit from being fresher. This one had started to unravel a bit at the edges and turn unpleasantly stale. Still, far better than I expected an Estonian lager in a novelty bottle would be.

Cask beer; rare beer; home-made beer; free beer. And people to talk to about it. The Bull & Castle is pretty much as good as it gets around here.

It's a short way to Tipperary

He doesn't look like your typical slow-food advocate. Plain-speaking ex-plumber Cuilán Loughnane is rarely seen without either his Munster rugby or Tipp GAA jerseys. I doubt he even owns a pair of sandals. Yet, as an advocate for locally-sourced hand-crafted produce, Cuilán is among the most visionary in the country. A brewer of many years' experience, he only recently set up his own operation in his home town of Templemore, Co. Tipperary using the former brewkit of the now-defunct Kinsale Brewing Company. His White Gypsy beers are starting to make their first appearances in the area's pubs, and Cuilán intends to expand this to as many as possible -- to make White Gypsy the beers you drink when you're in north Tipp. He firmly believes that every town in Ireland should have its own brewery supplying the local area, as it was before the market consolidated under a handful of foreign-owned national brands.

Furthermore, Cuilán intends to source all his ingredients locally, with water from the family well, a hop garden in front of the brewery, and barley from the local farmers, traded at a fair price. If his plan can be successfully executed, and then repeated elsewhere, the face of Irish beer will have undergone enormous change.

A couple of weeks ago Cuilán and family staged an open day at the brewery, a chance for the locals to have a look at what he's doing, and I'd hope one or two publicans were there to discuss possible enhancements to their beer line-up. The farmer whose livestock receives the benefit of White Gypsy's spent grain provided a bit of pig pro quo, so there was roast pork washed down with Cuilán's award-winning Bock, his quaffable Blonde and an achingly fresh and delicious IPA on cask.

Prior to all this there was work to be done. His new imperial stout -- White Gypsy Vintage -- had just finished primary fermentation and was due for racking into oak barrels for a few months of aging. Cuilán invited us the beer enthusiasts to come watch, and have a taste of the green product before it undergoes maturation. It's harsh stuff -- 10% ABV (OG 1.104; SG 1.029) and with an intense Play-Doh sort of flavour, finishing on a nasty hit of marker pen. This is, of course, entirely deliberate. Cuilán dislikes barrel aged beers which taste of nothing but the barrel, and deliberately brewed this one to be a thumper so that the woodiness and the stoutiness will balance each other in the finished product. Whether it works or not remains to be seen. Dave from Hardknott has his doubts about this sort of thing.

There were three barrels to be filled: a retired Bushmills cask, and two of virgin oak -- one French and one American. The finished beer will then be bottled in 75cl bottles and corked Belgian style. The world premiere is expected at the Franciscan Well next Easter -- two of the guys from the 'Well were along to lend a hand, as well as the other great advocates for localised craft beer in Ireland: the Beoir Chorca Dhuibne team from Dingle. When it's finished we'll have the first wood-aged Irish beer since Guinness substituted old-fashioned maturation for the injection of lactic acid which their beer has been getting for the last fifty years or so instead. I'm really looking forward to getting my mitts on some of this when it's ready.

In the meantime, the brewery I should regard as my local is the Porterhouse. They seem to be going through something of a local expansion themselves at the moment, with more bars outside their own estate carrying their beer -- you'll find it in classic Dublin boozer The Palace as well as fatcat eatery Bentley's, to name but two. And, as I mentioned in my post about SeptemberFest, the first of their bottled beers have just started to appear in shops and discerning bars. I've covered Hop Head already, but just recently nabbed a bottle of Plain from DrinkStore (and you can too, if you're in Ireland -- their new online store is open for business). Here we have Ireland's only bottle conditioned stout, a beefed-up version compared to the draught at 4.7% ABV. There's a subtle hint of coffee on the nose, so there it's already better than the odourless nitro draught. When served at cellar temperature, the body is light and quite fizzy, which in turn adds to a dry and carbonic flavour. However, let it warm up and it really comes out of its shell with heavier roasty and chocolate flavours. This is one for drinking straight from the shelf, I reckon. Incidentally, the Porterhouse's annual Oktoberfest kicks off today, seeing the return of their tasty Alt for a second year, and plenty of interesting imports. More on them next week.

While getting hold of exotic beers from far away -- and preferably collecting them in person -- is very much what I'm about, a decent selection of quality local produce is a notion I whole-heartedly support. Best of luck to all involved in such projects, wherever they may be.

Anti-Arthur's Day

You know how neighbours love to gossip, and how annoying that can be. So it's not in the least bit surprising that when Edward Cecil Guinness shacked up with his attractive cousin Adelaide that he felt the need to buy a large semi-rural estate, away from prying eyes. Edward's dad, Benjamin Lee, was also an enthusiast for, ahem, keeping it in the family, so it was probably wisdom passed down from father to son over the sherry. It was Edward Cecil who first floated the family firm on the London Stock Exchange, and retired at 40 as Ireland's richest man, having set the foundations for the growth of Guinness into the unstoppable monster which would eventually destroy all traces of quality and variety in Ireland's beer market.

So it is with supreme irony that Edward's incestuous lovenest now plays host to an annual gathering of the handful new breweries which exist despite his corporate heirs' market dominance. Farmleigh House, at the western edge of Dublin's Phoenix Park, became state property in 1999, and last year the cultural events calendar featured SeptemberFest for the first time -- a free festival of drinks from native producers, which of course included the 10 or so craft breweries currently operating on the island. I missed it through being at the all-Europe festival in Copenhagen, but apparently it took 8,000 visitors over the two days and was deemed enough of a success to be given another outing in 2009.

This time round, IrishCraftBrewer was asked to fill a bit of space in the tent, so I was there for the duration, talking home brewing with anyone who'd listen. Which was lots of people, as it cheeringly turned out. We didn't get 8,000 people this year though. Estimates from the gate at close of business on Sunday put it at somewhere around 35,000, largely due to the glorious weather. When the beer queues were on the far side of an hour it's a definite advantage to have been in the tent well ahead of opening to get some sampling done before the masses descend.

And sample I did. Probably the biggest news of the festival was the long-awaited launch of Porterhouse beers in bottles. Porterhouse Hop Head, conditioned in its funky 33cl bottle (BrewDog who?), was flying out and is absolutely delicious. I recall a little bit of bitter harshness in the draught version, but that's smoothed away here leaving a beer which pounds the palate without inflicting any real damage. A new higher strength edition of Porterhouse Plain has followed it since. I look forward to more in the range. And, of course, to bottles sized for grown-ups.

Whitewater had brought their new stout on its first outing to the Republic. The brewery that began by making exotic English-style bitters seems to be going for more solid fare of late, with Belfast Lager appearing in bottles a couple of years back, and now the 4.2% ABV Belfast Black is available bottled and nitrokegged (though don't ask me where). From the keg it's an absolutely rock-solid chocolate malt dominated Irish plain stout, very much on the sweeter side of the spectrum. Some of the crew even mistook it for a dark lager. While I can hanker after greater diversity in Irish beer all I want, it's great to see yet another decent Irish stout following Mizen out into the world. I've yet to try Belfast Black from the bottle but there's every possibility it could give O'Hara's a run for its money.

And from the black North to the black of beyond. Beoir Chorcha Duibhne have been brewing in Dingle for two years now, supplying cask ale to two local pubs. At last year's SeptemberFest they were serving a pale ale called Beal Bán. This year, it was a dark copper affair rejoicing in the name of Cúl Dorcha (helpfully translated by ICB's Gráinne as "Black Arse"). Again the style-police fell on it and one commentator had it likened to an alt. I'd be calling it a porter myself -- full-bodied, slightly bitter and lightly roasty. However there is a slight grainy, dry element that lets me see where the alt comparison comes from. It's a simple and enjoyable beer, the sort that won't end up the talk of the festival, but if you were served it in its home pubs you'd be very happy. Especially considering what else is likely to be on tap.

Last of the three newbies was the latest from White Gypsy, a Blonde session ale of 4% ABV. It packs a fair bit into that modest body, being sweet and chewy with a firm kick of sharp German hops on the end. Though again, outside of Ireland's tiny festival circuit, I don't know where you're likely to see it.

That's the beer out of the way, but I can't leave without a quick shout-out to David Llewellyn, north Dublin's apple magnate, who was able to sell his magnificent dry cider due to the temporary licensing arrangements (courtesy of The Porterhouse) at SeptemberFest. He reckons it's just too expensive to distribute via a middleman, and his own licensing set-up means he can normally only sell it by the case at his numerous farmers' market stalls by prior arrangement. It's wonderfully refreshing stuff and, as far as I know, is Ireland's only proper cider available commercially. David had a very brisk couple of days' business at the festival, between the cider, his vinegars, apple juice and the latest innovation: super-creamy apple ice cream. If you see Llewellyn's Orchard Produce at any of Ireland's outdoor food markets it's well worth making enquiries on how to get hold of his wonderful artisan cider.

It was heartening to see the interest in Irish craft beer displayed by the visitors of SeptemberFest. I doubt there was a single punter hankering after Heineken, and the family atmosphere was just the sort of image about-face that beer in Ireland needs, even if it's only for two days. With more events like this we could go a long way towards turning the tide of Irish beer tastes, away from the global brands which currently stink up the bar.

I hope Edward's ghost had a good view from his tower.

Best in show

I was in early to the Belfast Beer & Cider Festival on Saturday. When newer arrivals appeared and squinted inquisitively at the beer list I gave them one unequivocal recommendation: Dark Star Hophead. Yes, perhaps it's not a beer to start a sampling session with -- partly because of the intense flavour, and partly because it makes other pale bitters seem hopelessly inadequate -- but it's not one to be missed, and I was surprised it hadn't already sold out. Shame on you, beer philistines of Belfast. And thanks.

The aroma starts Hophead as it means to go on: fresh, green hops, like sticking one's nose into a bag of Cascade. On tasting it combines with the malt and there's a little of the sherbet character I enjoy in the likes of Goose Island IPA or, closer to home, Meantime Pale Ale. But it's no American wannabe: there's a considerable English floral character here, and a dry, not-quite-metallic, finish. Certainly it isn't a beer of balance, but that matters not one jot to its supreme drinkability.

Hophead is probably my beer of the festival, but one of the dark beers really left a lasting impression too: Old Slug from the RCH brewery down Somerset way. This porter really goes to show how amazing the simplest black beer can be when served naturally, putting me strongly in mind of my experience drinking Porterhouse Plain directly from the conditioning tanks. The nose is rich, freshly ground coffee in spades, and the flavour too is sweet and coffee-like, sitting on a silky-smooth creamy body. That particular combination of knee-weakening aroma, flavour and texture is something I only seem to get from cask-conditioned stouts and porters, like O'Hara's at Hilden during the summer and Druid's in Cork at Easter. We need something of this sort in regular production south of the border. I can't imagine anyone with half a brain going back to nitro stout after their first mouthful.

It's very easy to have a go at CAMRA. I was particularly scornful of their "CAMRA supports choice" banner in Belfast, given their prime directive limiting choice to beers produced and served in a manner of their own choosing. But I have to admire the Northern Irish branch's determination to pull off an event like this in a market environment which is almost as hostile to decent beer as the one where I live. Of course, being able to ship the beers over from Britain without trouble from the exciseman helps enormously in assembling the line-up. I guess I'll have to keep petitioning the southern breweries if I'm ever to get my pint of cask stout down the local.

State of the nation

Whoosh! There went the 2008 Great British Beer Festival, in just six and a half glorious hours of great beer and excellent company. Especially big thanks to Maeib, who spotted me on my tod and introduced me to his fellow RateBeerians (Chris_O I should have known already as I met him last year: sorry Chris). Other People of t'Internet I met included Chris and Merideth of BeerGeek TV, Young CAMRA's Dubbel, the elusive Tandleman and the very obvious and very purple Stonch. I saw the back of Pete Brown's head from a distance as he whizzed past looking very busy. Zythophile: sorry I missed you. I was looking for the bloke in the cream jacket but it was like a bloody Martin Bell lookalikes' convention in there.

And of course the leading lights of Irish craft brewing were there, hovering by the Irish section of the Bières Sans Frontières bar (which was decked out in livery announcing it as "Leprechaun Lane": we do like our bit of casual racism in CAMRA). Whitewater also had a couple of beers on across the way in the miniscule Northern Ireland section. I have to say I was a little disappointed with Clotworthy Dobbin on cask. I love this beer from the bottle: full-bodied, leaning towards heavy, but still eminently gulpable and full of rich fruit and chocolate flavours. It could well be that several barrel-aged beers and a spicy pork pie had numbed my palate by the time I got to this, but I really felt it lacked the robustness of the Clotworthy I usually enjoy.

I found the same only more so with Galway Hooker on cask. Keggy fizz really brings out the American-style hoppiness of this, while still leaving the very Irish crystal malt sweetness at the back. From the cask those hops are toned down and a sort of raw grainy character comes out. Nevertheless, I heard some very positive reactions from the English tasters, and no less a personage than Stonch gave it his seal of approval (get your coat, Aidan mate: you've pulled).

Top of my Irish hitlist was the sublime MM Imperial, but I went whoring after some of the fancy American brews first and within a couple of hours the Imperial was all gone, and none of it to me. A firm self-inflicted kick to the The Beer Nut's shins for that one. I comforted myself with a glass of Messrs Maguire Extra instead, a beer I've not had in ages and never written about here. I had actually gone looking for it in its home pub last week -- where it's served on nitro, natch -- but they were all out. From the cask it produced a similar sensation to fresh Porterhouse Plain Porter: big roasty notes on the nose followed by chocolate flavours on the foretaste. It finishes with the classic Irish dryness, just catching the back of the throat. A superbly balanced, high quality, plain drinking pint of Irish stout of the sort that is almost completely unavailable in Ireland (Carlow's Druid's Brew -- available for two days each year -- is the only one that comes close).

The festival continues until Saturday as will, I expect, my posts about it. At least. But before I leave Irish beer for a while, I thought I'd throw in a quick note about a beer Thom had a go at recently: the mysterious one called Shiva, made exclusively for Monty's Nepalese restaurant in Temple Bar. It's a fairly heavy dark-golden lager with some major fruitiness about it. I can't say I spotted Thom's Nepalese apples, but it does carry a definite suggestion that the lagering was done at temperatures higher than they should have been. I found it quite drinkable with my spicy Nepalese lunch all the same, but then I like Cobra, so who the hell am I to judge?

Shiva is named after Monty's owner, but there's nothing written on the label to say who makes it. I seem to remember from the last time I had it -- about six years ago -- that Celtic Brew in Meath were listed as the brewer previously. Back then, Celtic Brew was a going concern and a major player in Irish craft beer, best known for the Finian's range. Brewing stopped a year or two later and the company now concentrates on its import business. The proprietor, Dean McGuinness, can be heard on the "Movies and Booze" slot on Sean Moncrieff's Newstalk show on Fridays. My suspicion is that he's still making this to keep his brewery ticking over. I also suspect that he's behind Mao's house lager, since both beers look like they've come through the same half-arsed labelling machine. Tenuous, but as good a theory as any.

(Mao news just in: I won one of the prizes in the Bubble Brothers' Mao/iKi beer compo. Watch a video of me getting lucky here.)

Anyway, apologies for the interlude into dodgy Irish lager. More and better from Earl's Court to follow.

Playing with the big boys

As I mentioned the other day, the Porterhouse invited a bunch of interested parties out to their brewery last night for the launch of their new summer seasonal. Along with a dozen or so other members of Irish Craft Brewer I trekked out to the grim industrial estate on the edge of Dublin where the largest Irish-owned brewery has been operating since it moved out of Temple Bar in 2001.

We had an introductory talk from one of the Porterhouse's founders, Oliver Hughes (pictured right demonstrating the deference and respect he believes is due to Arthur Guinness & Son Co. Ltd.) followed by some words on the new summer seasonal, Hop Head, from Peter the chief brewer.

The new beer (in Oliver's right hand) was served from the keg at the brewery's tasting bar (demonstrated by the lovely Paul, left), and a cask version was waiting inside on the brewing floor. It was interesting to compare the two versions. Kegged Hop Head is an uncompromisingly bitter beer. It doesn't really have the zesty citrusy flavours I would have expected from the Cascade hops, but has a much rougher, harder edge. This sits on a big heavy body and the whole thing adds up to a no-nonsense powerhouse of a pale ale that demands the drinker's full attention. Comparisons with Galway Hooker are inevitable, but I can safely say that they are two remarkably different beers. Hop Head lacks the biscuity crystal malt notes of Hooker and its weight makes it much less sessionable. However, if you're having just one, and you want it bitter, Hop Head is the beer to go for.

The cask version was somewhat less demanding. Natural carbonation knocks a few of the edges off, and you get a relatively easy-going sipping ale. The bitterness creeps up on you gradually instead of serving an immediate smack in the face. Sadly, as is the way of these things, cask Hop Head is for export only and will be found gracing the bar of the London Porterhouse alone. It's good, but not good enough to send me into that place on a summer's evening.

My duties to the new arrival thus performed, I started noticing my fellow visitors with glasses of black beer. "Plain Porter," I was gleefully told, "from the conditioning tank". I had already bent the ear of the brewery's other head honcho, Liam, about the evils of nitro stout so was desperately keen to try this one. Porterhouse Plain Porter is a pretty good, understated, sort of beer. Free of nitrogenation, even at low brewery temperatures, it is amazing. I have never before encountered a beer that smells almost too good to drink, but this one manages it. The coffee and chocolate wafts coming from the foamy head are overwhelming. Add that to the strong, sweet roasted flavours and the silky texture and you have something very like the perfect session stout. My feedback to the Porterhouse management was fairly explicit. It included the word "crime".

The Porterhouse remains convinced that nitro is the only way to go in the Irish stout market. But if I've managed to sow even the beginnings of a seed of doubt about this, I'll be very happy indeed.

Finally, a big thank you to all the Porterhouse staff who arranged the visit and welcomed the thirsty swarm of beerites. We may not agree with everything the company does, but the Irish craft beer scene would be much worse without it.