So that was Christmas

Christmas with family brought a selection of bottled beers from England and Wales. From the UK's beer internet it can be easy to forget that these still exist. It's not all brightly coloured cans over there.

Take, for example, Wye Valley Hopfather: 3.9% ABV and described as a session IPA, different from a bitter because of the cocktail of American hops, I guess. It's a clear pale golden colour, which I got to appreciate at length while I waited for the head to settle. There's a gorgeous aroma of fresh tropical fruit with a lacing of lemon peel. The mouthfeel is surprisingly full given the modest strength: smooth and almost creamy. The promise of fresh fruit gives way to something rather more artificial tasting -- Skittles and Starburst -- a calling card of Azacca. It avoids turning sticky thanks to a spicy edge of gunpowder and clove, alongside a fresh and floral honey sweetness. Overall, this is a thoroughly enjoyable little chap: accessible while still massively flavourful. Exactly what traditional English brewing does best, even when it's elbow-deep in the American hops.

Cotswald Ale from Hook Norton takes great pains to appear humble and genteel, promising balance and little else. Although the hops are Cascade and Chinook, they're English-grown, not those brash American ones. In English bitter terms it's a bruiser at 4.4% ABV, and though the label says it's golden, it looks more amber to me. It's bottled, but does a great job of channelling the cask effect, being smoothly textured and richly malt-forward. Balancing the maltose are tea-like tannins and a mild lemon bitterness. This is another modest little beauty. It had been "cellared" a little longer than the brewery recommends but was still perfectly delicious.

I came out of this a bit miffed that we don't really get English beers like these in Dublin any more. Despite the low profile they're still very much worth drinking. Then it was on to some seasonal fare.

Basking in the satisfaction of completing the 1000-piece jigsaw before Christmas lunch, I opened Ding Dong, a golden ale from Monty's of Powys. It poured mostly clear with a slight suspension of trub in it, smelling gently of grapefruit and bubblegum. There's a faint mustiness too, however, and that's at the front of the flavour: dry and brittle crepe paper, dried dandelions and rye crackers. It's not how I like my golden ales, at any time of the year. The fruit character has all but vanished, letting it finish on rubber and over-boiled vegetables. Can you tell I wasn't impressed? I wasn't impressed.

A second chance for the brewery comes in the form of Figgy Pud, a more fully-formed festive effort. This is a self-avowed winter warmer, promising cinnamon and mixed spices. Full marks for the texture: smooth and creamy, built for sipping. I'm not convinced by the spice mix, however. It's there, but it tastes like a particularly manly brand of shower gel, all musk and sandalwood. There's tang from it; a most unfestive vinegar buzz. My soft spot for black pepper is the only thing that saves it: there's a clean sort of oily exotic spice. That's not much of a fig-pudding flavour, but I'll take it. Still, this didn't quite deliver on its promise of being Christmassy. Spices don't make Christmas. Sorry Monty.

Hobsons, a favourite English brewery of mine, has turned its Postman's Knock porter into Postman's Plum Porter, boasting that the local Shropshire Prune Damson is the very essence of plum. That's as maybe but it's still an absolutely top-notch porter, 5% ABV but light and thirst quenching, gently roasted and with a dark chocolate centrepiece, flecked with hazelnut pieces. The fruit is worn lightly around that, tasting of raisin more than plum to me, with just a hint of jam but certainly no stickiness. I'm not sure that it's better than the original but it's not a downgrade either. This one has all the charm implied by its chocolate-box label art.

Another random factor from an unfamiliar brewery: Bewdley, in Worcestershire. I wasn't all that inspired by the label of Bah Humbug! and so it proved with the beer within. Advertised as "ruby", it's a dark cola-brown, and goes straight down the middle for English ale: Maris Otter, crystal malt, Fuggles and Goldings. 4.6% ABV should be enough to give it plenty of heft but it's thin. Stewed tea and soft biscuits lend an air of Sunday afternoon at the carehome. According to the brewery it tastes of liquorice, and there's a certain old-school herbal bitterness, though I wouldn't say full-on aniseed. There's no active unpleasantness here but not much going on its favour either. Sink and move on.

Finally, the brewery formerly known as Wells & Young (now The Eagle, a subsidiary of Carlsberg/Marstons) has a Christmas Porter, promising plum and chocolate though declining to list its ingredients. It's properly black with a decent tan-coloured head. This is no Christmassy confection, it's very bitter, with a little dark chocolate and a lot of pipe tobacco and coffee grounds. There's a certain soft sweetness coming from the plum but it's short-lived, then we're back to the hard roughness. Bitter porter doesn't usually bother me; I tend to be all-in with them, but I couldn't warm to this. There's an overriding staleness, unpleasantly sweaty, that spoiled it for me. A near miss from the brewery with the complicated name and even more complicated history.

The campy forced jollity of Christmas beers like these tends to be the most entertaining thing about them; for the most part the liquid isn't up to much. Yet not even that tendency can upset the understated class of Hobsons, still a firm favourite, plums or no.

In search of cosy

Arriving into rural Shropshire for Christmas, the first port of call was the local, The White Horse. They generally have a Christmas offering of some sort on the wickets, and this time it was Hollybob from Wye Valley, I didn't have much hope for it, and less when it poured brown and seemingly lifeless. It turned out rather decent, however. There's nothing at all Christmassy about it, or nothing obvious anyway: no spicing or fruit gimmickry. Instead it's dry and tannic, like a super-strong cup of very black tea. There's a bit more substance than is usual for this style: a balancing caramel sweetness and a certain creaminess to the texture, which I guess is what fits it for winter, and it does a better job than a packet of dried cinnamon would. This is a very gulpable, refreshing yet characterful dark bitter, one I'd happily be snowed in with.

The other, non-seasonal, bitter on tap was Brew XI from Mitchell's & Butler's, a bit of a throwback in Birmingham brewing, sparking memories in some locals of the years when it was the only cask ale available. From the inauspicious badge I wasn't expecting much from this, and it delivered even less. We're talking the basic level of basic brown bitter. Sweet caramel set on a thick malt base with no balancing hop. The nearest thing to balance it offers is a salty tang, a little like you'd find in cheap milk chocolate. With a dull beer I could have at least relaxed into my surroundings and forgot about what's in front of me; this sugarbomb, however, demanded my attention and was just too much work to down before moving back to the Hollybob.

That's it for pub drinking. A jolly pre-Christmas lunch in The Bottle & Glass in Picklescott and a Boxing Day swifty at The Stiperstones Inn yielded some lovely beers but nothing I haven't written about previously. On to the takeaways, then.

The Shropshire town of Ludlow has developed something of a gastronomic brand for itself. That's the main reason, faced with a supermarket shelf of unfamiliar beers, I opted for three from the Ludlow Brewing Company. They wouldn't be allowed use the name if their beers weren't excellent, right?

Gold is your basic golden ale (I think: there's almost no information about it on the label) and pours thinly with a desultory short-lived head. It smells... beery, of bitterly metallic English hops and honey-sweet malt: not an unpleasant smell at all. That's more-or-less what you get for a flavour too, the honey dialled up at the front; the tinny tang providing a finish. I'm honestly not sure whether to admire the crisp and light refreshing texture, or bemoan its thinness: both are valid positions. Overall, it's fine. Classically English, devoid of flaws and I am certain it works better served cool from a cask.

Middle of the set is The Boiling Well, and "premium ale" is as detailed as the description gets. Head retention is an issue again. It's dark red and, as expected, a fairly average caramel-forward ale; a brown bitter, I suppose, but sharing a lot of features with mid-range Irish red ale. There's a growing banana ester as it warms, some gunpowder spice and a mineral tang. Not enough to make it genuinely interesting, though.

Last of the set is Stairway, I guess a pale bitter or even an IPA, at 5% ABV. The head sticks around a bit longer on this one and there's an enticing citric aroma. It tastes clean and sharp, like posh lemonade with a waxy bitter finish. There's virtually no aftertaste, just a gentle lemony buzz. This is the best of the three, showing great character while still being easy-going and refreshing. Like the blonde, it instils a curiosity about the cask version, a format to which it too seems better suited.

From over the border in Llandudno comes Great Orme's Brewdolph winter warmer. 5% ABV and a dark garnet shade, topped with a lovely creamy layer of snow-white foam. The flavour is a Victorian Christmas riot of plums, figs, liquorice and fruitcake with a dry and bitterly roasted finish, somewhere between a dubbel and a stout. No fruit or spice additions went into this so all the winter-wonderland effect is down to the brewer's art and nothing else. It's complex, tasty, warming and filling -- absolutely ideal winter fare.

Closer to base, there's Hobsons, who celebrated 25 years in business during 2018 with Amber Journey Ale. Surprisingly, it's more a golden colour than amber, but doubles back with a flavour of toffee and biscuit that's much more typical of an amber ale. An American one specifically, as the malt is studded with lightly citric and mildly dank hops, leading to a peppery finish. It's only 4.4% ABV and gently carbonated, which makes for very easy drinking and excellent refreshment qualities. It might be a little too sweet for several at once, but the single I had went down lovely.

Postman's Knock ruby porter is one I was sure I'd had before, but research indicates it was just the barrel-aged version, two Christmases ago. It's ruby indeed, a translucent garnet colour, and the carbonation is once again low and cask-like. Milk chocolate is the predominant flavour and there's a slightly acrid boiled-veg acidity in the finish. Though I'm sure it's exactly as the brewer intended, I wasn't as fond of this as I usually am of Hobsons beers. The dark malt is too sweet and the hops too bitter, resulting in unbalanced extremes in both directions. I can see why they thought putting it in a whisky barrel was a good idea.

From Wychwood comes Arrowaine, a 3.6% ABV dark ale. So... a mild, then? Perhaps the m-word is insufficiently cool for the all-important brand style. It's pleasingly black, with a stable pillar of off-white foam and quite fruity to taste, bringing plum and raisin. There's a backing of dark chocolate and some slightly hot marker pen. It's surprising how big it feels and tastes, doing a convincing impression of a much stronger beer. Classic mild it ain't, but it's very decent, balanced, and largely lacking in flaws. Wychwood at its best.

The national brands selection in a major supermarket turned up Montana Red Rye Ale from Fuller's. It's a fairly straight-up American-style amber ale, mixing toffee with citric hops, and I guess you get a little more bitterness than usual from the inclusion of the rye. It's only 4.5% ABV, and a little thin on it, but there are also more complex sparks of gunpowder and a dry roasted crunch. Yes the branding is a little dad-dancey, but the beer inside is a rock-solid example of the style, hitting all the right marks.

And from the same place, a token (possibly) American. I don't know where the UK supply of Goose Island beer is brewed these days. Midway is a session IPA of 4.6% ABV. I got a sense of the zingy Goose Island IPA of old from the dark gold appearance. There's a bit of it in the aroma too: grapefruit and biscuit in perfect harmony. The flavour is quite plain, bringing light stonefruit and a gentle caraway. While there is a bitter grapefruit tang and spice in the finish, it's all quite muted, tasting washed-out and industrial. I guess this is fine for a mass-market supermarket beer, but it tastes a bit cheap and lowest-common-denominator.

From most of the above, it seems that traditional British ale continues to thrive. There certainly doesn't seem to be any shortage of it.