Peeved

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.

No rest for the ticker

Irish Craft Beer Week is upon us once more as the nation girds its collective loins for the craftquake that is the Irish Craft Beer and Cider Festival, now in its fourth year at the RDS Industries Hall, from Thursday.

To whet your appetite for that I thought I'd run through a few of the recent releases from Irish breweries. Bear with me: this may take a while.

The Porterhouse's Pale Ale Festival ended in late July but nobody seems to have told Eight Degrees who had yet another beautiful hop monster on tap at the Temple Bar branch -- and several other pubs besides -- shortly afterwards. Simcoe Rye Ale is the latest in their single-hop series, 6% ABV once again. It's a hazy dark amber colour and the aroma offers a heady cocktail of grassy rye and weedy, spicy hops for the overall effect of a summer meadow on steroids, or getting your head stuck in a pile of damp lawn cuttings. First in the queue on tasting is a dry and punchy bitterness, sharp at the front and then with a longer resin finish, plus just a modest burst of juicy mandarins coming into it as it warms slightly. Behind these is a dense crystal malt base, though the caramel sweetness is felt more than tasted, if that makes any sense. It's a sort of heavy smoothness and brings balance and drinkability to what's an unmistakeably intense hop-forward beer.

International booze behemoth C&C invited me to the launch of their first Irish beer, Clonmel 1650, brewed at the plant best known for turning out the world's supply of Magners. They rented the entirety of swish Dublin superpub The Church and packed it to capacity, adding insanely loud music for extra atmosphere. Still, two free pints is two free pints. First impression of the first pint was of a very dry lager, the flavour evolving into an earthy, mushroomy, dusty, musty unpleasantness. I guess that's why they gave us two. The second was better, with more of a fruity estery vibe, though still pretty dry. Already in C&C's portfolio there's Tennents, Staropramen, Heverlee, Stella Artois and Beck's Vier. Regular drinkers of any of those will find little to surprise them here.

Clonmel 1650 will not be available at the RDS this weekend.

Before the 1650 gig I dropped into the nearby Twisted Pepper to try a new house beer in their Brewtonic series. I missed the first one, brewed last year at 5 Lamps, and this new one came from Rascal's (here's the official making-of blog post). It's a golden ale utilising Magnum, Summit and Cascade, and they've called it Relax the Cacks, for summer and that. It arrived very cold, which I was glad of that particular July evening, showing a slight craft haze in the gold. There's a sweet nectarine aroma, powerful enough to almost pass for Belgian. You get a massive whack of tropical fruit on tasting: peaches mostly, some pineapple, a bit of mandarin. The body is full enough and there's sufficient alcohol heat to keep the Belgian thing in mind, with definite elements of the first-rate sort of Belgian blonde ales. I got the impression it might start to get a little sticky if allowed to warm but there was little chance of that on this occasion.

The Brewtonic guys also had a bar at the first Big Grill barbecue festival which happened in Herbert Park a couple of weeks ago. As well as imported beers, it was serving some welcome leftovers of another one-off that Rascal's did for them, for a different event earlier this summer. Brewtonic Belgian Wit, said Rascal Emma, is a close relation of their own Wit Woo but utilises a little extra Munich malt. Wit Woo is fairly big on the citrus orange notes and while there are definite echoes of that here, this one drops the bitterness levels and adds in masses of extra soft and fleshy tropical fruit, mangoes in particular. There's a small burn of sulphur and the coriander spice levels are low, but they're really not missed with all the juice action going on. An ideal outdoor summer beer, this, and the festival wasn't long in being cleaned out of it. Brewtonic's boss says they're planning a brown ale next. It has a tough act to follow.

Rascal's doesn't have the monopoly on house beers for yoof-oriented Dublin pub chains. The Cassidy's/P. Mac's/Blackbird group have commissioned their own from Trouble Brewing, a 5.5% ABV pale ale called Vietnow. I explored it sitting among the junkshop furniture on Blackbird's terrace. This hazy dark orange beer smells very dank with heavy sandalwood notes as well. Expecting a dense resinous affair I was very pleasantly surprised to get a burst of mandarin on the first pull followed by a dankness that only comes from fresh hops in quantity. There's a thick mouthfeel and lots of that incense-like spicing. While a certain amount of resin lingers late, most of its hop action happens right up front. It was created as a cheaper alternative to Punk IPA, though at €5.40 a pint in Rathmines it's not exactly going for a song. Much as I enjoyed it, I felt my fiver in the Twisted Pepper above was better spent.

Meanwhile, under their own brand, Trouble have released Oh Yeah!, badged as an "American Black Ale". It's an inky black-brown colour with a fairly sedate aroma of spiced oranges and crunchy green veg. It's lightly textured with lots of prickly fizz, something that complements the spicy bitterness which is the centrepiece of the flavour. There's little by way of fruit complexity, in marked contrast to Eight Degrees's recent Vic Secret, instead it's veg and spice all the way. The dark malt contributes a little bit of chocolate and a little bit of roast, but not huge amounts (in the keg version at least; on cask it's understandably smoother and richer). At 5.8% ABV my liver felt somewhat cheated by the lack of complexity, but it's still a very tasty beer, and at just €5.10 in Against the Grain, my wallet was of the opinion that my liver could shut the hell up.

More pint action tomorrow, including a couple of brand new breweries.

Too much taste, and too little

When I went to open the bottle of Poacher's Choice I bought in Newry the other week, I suddenly recalled Leigh's comment about Badger beers tasting artificial. It's not something I'd noticed before, but here it was: on flipping the cap of this dark ale I got a strong whiff of sweet sugary flavourings. And on the first sip, the taste is sickly raspberryade, not the damsons and liquorice which are supposedly in here.

As far as redeeming features go, there does seem to be a passable sticky toffee malty beer at the base here, and the texture is full bodied, unfizzy and quite satisying. But I just can't get past that sweet artificial taste. Yes I know I said I wanted the volume turned up on unusual ingredients, but poor-quality beer can't be hidden behind fun adjuncts.

And speaking of poor-quality beer, a note on two others I encountered while in Newry, at a friend's wedding. I began my drinking career in Northern Ireland on Harp and Tennent's -- generally the only lagers available in the pubs of my youth. I was amused to see that the brewers have produced new versions of both, for those who find the taste of the usual lager too much to handle. Both Harp Ice and Tennents Ice taste of quite literally nothing. A shot of raspberryade would be an improvement, but I had moved on to Bloody Marys after just one swift pint of each.

And yet they say British beer is among the best in the world...

Ulster Reds

Northern Ireland hasn't been dealt the best of hands when it comes to beer. The dominance of Diageo and Bass meant that for years bar patrons had little to choose from between Harp and Tennents; Smithwicks and Bass. Things are slowly changing, however, with Kilkeel's Whitewater brewery leading the charge. Belfast Ale is the flagship, a red bitter which I found a bit rough round the edges. It's definitely complex, with hoppy bitterness and lots of fruit, but the bold flavours tend to compete with each other, making for an intense but confusing experience. Nevertheless, this is a conscientiously fashioned beer which hints of a time ages past when all beer tasted like this.

Moving up the ladder there's Clotworthy Dobbin, named after a legendary Belfast brewer, apparently. It's similar to Belfast Ale, but much more coherent. Bitter in the extreme, though smoother and altogether more rounded.

Still in Ulster, but far north and west of Kilkeel, there's a brewery on the Donegal island of Árainn Mhór. I had a chance to try their red ale Rua, which is a cloudy, bottle-conditioned Irish red, weighing in at a whopping 6% ABV. The result is an exceptionally bitter ale, full of green-tasting hops. After the initial shock, it's quite a pleasant, sippable beer. The other flavours -- fruit, candy, spice -- do come out from under the bitterness eventually, however there's room for a bit more craft and subtlety in this one, just like its counterparts from the east coast.

Weiss of the North

I never thought I'd see the day when Hoegaarden was easier to get on draught in Belfast than in Dublin, but there you go. Things have certainly changed in the city where beer was recently limited to Guinness and Harp/Smithwick's or Tennent's/Bass depending on who controlled the supply to that bar.

Amazingly, in the Duke of York, where one can get Hoegaarden, Stella, and Carlsberg (among others) on tap, people were still drinking Harp. What's that about? Still, people were also drinking alcopops so I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised it's a low-taste zone.

On the higher-taste front, while in Belfast I discovered an English beer called Curious Brew. It's a strange little dark lager, with distinct yeasty-aley overtones. One to be savoured (and not chugged down in the hotel bar at the end of a ten-hour session and after everywhere else has closed, ahem).

And just for the sake of completeness (which is what this blog is about), I also added Eisbrau Czech pilsner to my list of beers tried (something I will actually add to the side panel one of these months). It's passable, in the mould of Budvar. And, er, that's all I have to say about it.