Work had me in Glasgow for a few days earlier this month, a city I had never been drinking in before, so was pleased to get it some way ticked off, though far from comprehensively, I'm sure. I was based on the western edge of the city centre, where there were a few noteworthy pubs (thanks Rob!) within easy reach.
The State, for example, is a pleasant bit of dark wood and brass Victoriana. The five cask ales had nothing of Scottish interest: Almasty's Green Pale Ale was as close as it got, Newcastle being nearly Scotland. It came with a warning of cloudiness, which I waved away, though I wasn't prepared for quite how grey and gritty it was. Still, it tasted fairly clean, with only a hint of dregs. A coconut hop flavour is presumably the result of Ekuanot, in here with Simcoe and Mosaic. There's some woody pine and broad forest vibes, rather than the tropical taste promised by the brewery -- it's not quite clean enough for that. A herbal, medicinal tang, of eucalyptus and aniseed, finishes things off. Low cask carbonation makes for very easy drinking, even at 5% ABV, but there wasn't a lot here to hold my attention. One quick pint, first of the evening, was fine and enjoyable, but I couldn't imagine drinking more than that.
Around the corner and down a bit is The Griffin. The art nouveau fittings suggest traditional boozer, but inside it's bright and more Scandi-functional in the craft beer way, underlined by the Beavertown taps and mats, even though... well, you know.Isle of Skye Brewing supplies the four cask lines, and several keg. I opted for Skye Black, a dark ale of 4.5% ABV. It is indeed fully black, but not a porter or stout because there's no dark grain character: no roast nor chocolate. Instead, the flavour is based around a tangy fruitiness, verging on pith. Alongside is a toffee malt sweet side and a shaving of red apple, putting this whole package closer to twiggy brown bitter than anything typically dark. I'd have liked more roast. It's another OK beer, but I spent the pint resenting that it doesn’t really taste dark.
My hotel was close to the Bon Accord so I was pleased to learn that this pub was still open after a recent change of ownership. Of cask interest was Otherworld Brewing's Judgemental, a 60/-. Here, that signifies a dark red ale of 3.1% ABV. It doesn't taste at all thin or compromised, having a silky texture matching a rich milk chocolate foretaste, followed by a rasp of dry roast and an odd, but not unpleasant, twist of oaky cork. I guess this would be a mild anywhere else, and as such it's a pretty good one, to my taste. For the full stylistic details, here's Ron.
On an otherwise dismal afternoon, Colbier's Flexatone was a ray of unexpected sunshine. This hazy-ish pale ale was created for Port Street Beer House, below in Manchester, and uses Motueka and Azacca hops to excellent tropical effect. The aroma is an intense mango perfume while the flavour opens on tart cloudy lemonade before softening into more mango, a squeeze of pineapple juice and even a touch of coconut. They're definitely channelling New England here -- there's a seam of sweet vanilla where the bitterness should be -- but they're channelling it cleanly and with top-notch cask drinkability.
The hotel itself had West's St Mungo as its house lager. Presumably this exists as the local indie competition to Tennents. It's similarly quite a plain pale lager, but it's good, going big on dry crispness with plenty of grainy golden malt. The sweet spot between refreshing simplicity and interesting depth is hit square on. Job done.
Shilling Brewing Co. was a stretch goal one evening. The self-proclaimed "last bastion of craft beer in Glasgow city centre," it's your typical '90s era brewpub in a grand high-ceilinged former banking hall. There's a substantial range of guest kegs but I stuck with two from the house. For the tournament that's in it, Anyone But England is a Vienna lager. The barman struggled to put a head on it, so it photographed OK but the foam was gone soon after and it was, indeed, fairly flat. Otherwise it looks well: a clear reddish amber. The slightly caramelised malt flavour is on point, and likewise the grain crunch and faintly grassy hopping. But the lack of condition is a deal-breaker. It really needs some fizz to lift it, and without that it tasted flabby and cloying. Bit of a near miss, then.Beside it, Stouty McStoutface: now there's a contemporary reference. It's similarly flat, suggesting this is a feature of the pub's dispense system. And it's one of those odd stouts one occasionally finds on the international circuit, in that it's not quite right in a specific way. The sweetness is one part of that, a cloying caramel stickiness, reminiscent of the roughest east-European dark lager; and then there's a strong herbal twang, medicinal to the point of chemical, all iodine and phenol, with a severe tannic bite in the finish. It's hard work, and really not worth it.
For a better time, I probably should have explored the guest beers, but that's not how this blog works.
My final afternoon began with a quest to The Laurieston, the legendarily earthy flat-roofed pub. At 3.30 on a Friday it was busy. Three Fyne Ales cask beers are on offer but it felt like more of a lager vibe so I went with Fyne Helles. This is extremely pale, served ice cold in a chilled glass. It's not exactly big on flavour but there's a distinct celery and dandelion-leaf noble hop bitterness. The gassiness makes it tough to drink quickly, though it is light at 4.5% ABV, with less substance than most Bavarian examples of the style that I know. There's an aura of "we had to have a lager" about it, rather than any real love for the format. Unexciting at best, is my verdict.
Our final stop is Koelschip Yard, which is not a yard and, presumably, was at some point quite an ordinary pub -- the Kelly family coat of arms is emblazoned behind the bar. It has since been thoroughly craftified, festooned in tap badges, empty geuze bottles and assorted world breweriana. There's a dozen or so draught beers, including The Kernel's Ordinary Bitter on cask. This is 4.2% ABV and a clear golden colour. It smells citric and pithy, much more American than English. That continues in the flavour, where the lemon and lime meets dry tannin. A rough woody bark character adds further to its severity. This is no easy-drinker and was a bit of a chore to get through, which I'm certain is not how bitter ought to be. When I noticed the green apple, I stopped analysing. Suffice it to say, this is not to my taste, complex and all that it is. If it turned out as the brewery wanted, it's certainly daring, but that's not at all the same as good.
Given the pub's name, I thought I should give something wild a go before leaving, and picked Graf II by the local brewery Dead End Brew Machine, described as a two-year-old wild pale ale. It arrived purple with a pink head, with a definite wild spice to the aroma. It tastes like a bang-on fruited geuze, though I had to look up what the fruit is. Blackcurrant, it turns out. There's lots of peppery gunpowder in its flavour, and an uncompromising sour kick. Once informed about the blackcurrant, I could taste a hint of Ribena syrup too, but it's on the edge and barely perceptible. I assume from the name there's some cider in the blend as well, though that's fully subsumed into the wild beer character. Despite the slight heaviness (it's 6.5% ABV), it's very good stuff and not at all what I expected to find brewed in Glasgow. I'll absolutely take it, however.And with that it was back to the airport and home. I feel Glasgow made me work to find the good stuff, which isn't the case in all British cities. It's just as well the good stuff was very good.
