The Hags of summer

Three new White Hag releases for you today, all on a broadly summerish theme.

The first is a Kölsch-a-like called Keltoi, brewed in collaboration with French brewer Mont Hardi. It's a style you don't see much of from local brewers; I guess it was a stepping stone before they had the equipment for proper lager. But it has its place, and a sunny afternoon al fresco is one of them. In the glass it's crystal clear yellow, topped with a rocky head of pure white foam. It's very perfumy tasting, a sweet and sharp burst of concentrated flower petals right from the start. This fades into a gentler cantaloupe and apricot after a moment or two, but it's still no crisp-and-easy quaffer. This beer demands your attention. It's big-bodied too, despite a mere 4.8% ABV. It's not often I find myself wishing for a beer to be plainer and less complex, but I would have preferred something that tastes closer to an actual Kölsch rather than the pale ale this really is.

2021's iteration of the Púca series of fruited mixed-fermentation ales brings Pineapple to the party. Can you believe this is the sixth one? It's clearer than any previous version for some reason: the pale gold of a sweet German wine. Pineapple ice lollies and soft drinks were a regular feature of my childhood, and the aroma from this brought all those memories back. I was expecting a sweet flavour to follow so was surprised at how intensely sour it is, a real face-puckerer, at least to begin. Once you're used to it, it's possible to appreciate the lemon and pineapple flavours bopping around in the background. I wouldn't have thought of that as a natural combination but it really works: the citrus is a second sort of tartness and then the pineapple balances it. An additional herbal complexity turned out to be coriander, which was another surprise, but a pleasing one. As usual this is a mere 3.5% ABV and I think that it might work well as a summer session beer, even despite the intensity and busyness.

Sticking with fruit but shifting to IPA we finish up at the Tangerine Shebeen, a collaboration with English brewer Round Corner. It's certainly tangerine-coloured, a bright and opaque orange. There's a decent amount of juice in the aroma too, sweet enough to shade into cordial territory. I feared it might be sticky, but it's quite light, befitting the 5.7% ABV. The flavour also keeps things easy-breezy. There's a fun citrus spice up front, the sort I associate most with grapefruit rind. Then an ice-lolly orange taste takes over, but only briefly. It finishes very quickly, adding to the soft-drink feel. Nothing in here is identifiable as hops, which is a little disappointing for an IPA, but at the same time it is superbly refreshing and highly enjoyable on those terms alone.

I'll leave the Kölsch aside, but otherwise The White Hag has done a great job of bringing the summer to my beer glass a few weeks early.

Canned witch spread

They've been busy at The White Hag. Every time I thought I had a handle on their new releases, another popped into view. Here's the most recent four to come my way.

Róc Helles shares a name with the brewery's pilsner but I hoped it would be softer and fluffier, as befits the style. It's a bigger serve too, going for the 440ml can. The strength is a little underdone at 4.5% ABV which I'm not sure would get the Bavarian seal of approval. The appearance is spot-on though: pale and clear, with a jolly cumulus of pure white froth on top. The aroma has the wholesome sweet biscuit appropriate to Helles, but there's a sharper green-pepper vegetal note there as well. Sure enough that's also present in the flavour. It doesn't taste sharp and grassy as I expected, but quite soapy: a tang of lemon washing-up liquid and a sharp astringency. This is not the smooth and easy experience that Helles ought to be. The body is there, but I think it's the sweet malt fighting with an overload of hops that creates the twangy clash. Helles is one of those styles that doesn't suit microbrewing. Leave it to the Bavarian giants.

This year's Púca next, Ginger & Lime being the latest attempt at improving the quite wonderful base beer, seeking to do what hibiscus, mint, matcha, and apricot have all so far failed to do. It's 3.5% ABV, like all the other Púcaí, and a white-gold colour, hazy like a glassful of lemon juice. Sour lemon on the aroma, with just a dusting of candied ginger. The balance tilts dramatically towards sour on tasting, with an almost vinegar-sharp tang right at the front. Lemon is there to add a little balancing sweetness (!) and the thicker lime citrus brings up the rear. The ginger is hard to detect, left as a residue in the aftertaste, and very much the flavour of ginger, without the spice. I'd like some spice. Don't let the low strength or craft ingredients fool you: this is a serious mixed-fermentation mouth-tingler for grown-up palates. It's just a little too busy and loud for me though. "What if it was stronger?" I found myself thinking, "What if they barrel aged it?" while never quite appreciating the beer for what it actually is. Straight lemon Púca, which I'm delighted to see is back in the shops now, is still the better beer.

Two lacklustre offerings in a row is very atypical for The White Hag. Maybe the third one will bring things back on track. Oh. It's a red ale. Warrior Queen was previously brewed for export only and, if only for the sake of completeness, I'm glad they've begun selling it in Ireland. Designed more for session pints than small cans it's 4.5% ABV. The colour is a dark garnet-red and there's a very trad topping of healthy foam. The aroma is intriguingly smoky, with a floral rosewater complexity. So not a Smithwick's clone then. The flavour switches things up again, showing a firm old-world hop bitterness to the fore: earthy, a little tinny, but assertive and not bland. The body helps there, being very decently full, avoiding the pitfall of wateriness that besets mainstream Irish reds. That smoky caramelised sugar wafts through next, while the finish brings my favourite feature of the style: a basket of summer fruit; raspberries in particular. There is a slight soapy twang, a function of the bitterness, which spoils the party a little, but overall I enjoyed the depth of flavour here. Maybe the flaw is less obvious when it's gulped down by the pint.

A double IPA to finish: Malafemmena, created for Johnny's Off Licence in Rome who, I assume, sell a lot of White Hag beer. It's 8.5% ABV but is no one-dimensional booze-bomb. The aroma is a stimulating blend of tropical fruit: pineapple first, then ripe juicy peach and a spritz of citrus. The last element is missing from the flavour, which is a little unfortunate as it would have provided a useful bitter balance. What's there is still good: apricots, red apple, mandarin -- quite a fruit salad. There's an over-riding alcohol heat, intensifying the fruit flavour rather than fighting with it. The whole thing is a sweet bruiser that makes for some enjoyable sipping. I'm just not enough of a double IPA fan to be head over heels about it, but there's little to complain about here.

Four very different beers but I think the red is the one I'm most likely to drink again. Strange times indeed.

North-westers

Ahead of Hagstravaganza, on which more later, The White Hag released the third iteration of The Púca. This time the dry hopped lemon sour [beer] has had lime, mint and matcha added in. It's still 3.5% ABV. The glass glows a bright golden colour, like a fine cider or Riesling. I don't know from matcha, but the lime and mint are very present. I coughed from the medicinal quality of the latter and hissed at the acidic sharpness of the former. It's fun though, and tastes very like a mojito. Ice and leaves? This beer will happily take that. Really, this is flavoured beyond the point of being a beer, but it's still nice to drink.

Kinnegar joins the party with a table beer called Skinny Legs, also at 3.5% ABV. Despite the strength it's thick-looking and thick-tasting, a murky orange body leading to slick vanilla in the mouth. There's a measure of spicy yeast in the aroma, while the flavour dances between sweet orange milkshake and bitter green veg. There's no escaping the wateriness, however, a feature accentuated by the low level of fizz. As a quick hot-day quencher or a gentle-on-the-constitution sessioner, it works well, but isn't up to much else. Take it as you find it.

Carrig has been keeping the wheel turning on the specials they serve up at Bar Rua. I went along for Ryevolution, a 5.5% ABV IPA which claims to be Ireland's first 100% rye beer. I was expecting a sticky, grassy orange mess, but that couldn't be further from the reality. It's pale yellow, for a start, with a slight haze to it. I got a spritz of lemon in the foretaste, then a little bit of sharp grass, but only a brief squeak. The finish is all creamy lemon curd. Its bitter qualities do build, getting quite intense by pint's end, but no harm. This is a clean and invigorating IPA, and relatively well balanced for something that's not shy about piling on the IBUs. I've definitely had more rye-tasting beers than it, however.

Also pouring the same evening was Carrig's Raspberry Wit, 4.6% ABV and not really up to much. It's pinkish coloured and has a light raspberry sweetness in the front, followed by a dry carbonic rasp afterwards. And that's pretty much your lot: the fruit is the sum of its flavour, really, and there's none of the citrus or herbs that make witbier a worthwhile style. Maybe this was just one of those recipes that the brewer needed to get out of his system. It doesn't need to go further than the pilot kit.

Finally to Lough Gill which has also been keeping a steady stream of specials coming. Atlantic Surf is intriguingly styled as a bog myrtle saison and is 5% ABV. It's orange coloured and slightly hazy, exuding a classic saison vibe, bringing straw, pepper and herbs primarily, before finishing on a sweeter succulent melon note, offsetting the considerable dryness a little. I was half way through before I noticed the lack of novelty: nothing that could be pointed to as the bog myrtle's contribution. I didn't mind, though; this is just a great straight-up example of a saison.

What to expect, then, from the Sloe Gin Gose which followed it? This one was brewed as a collaboration with Five Points Brewery in London, is 5.2% ABV and a deep shade of orange. I didn't really understand it. My first impression was of white lemonade: that sugary sweetness that has nothing to do with actual lemons. Some light herbs come later and then just a tang of seasalt to finish. I detected a certain gin-like bitterness, but not one of your fancy gins and there's no sign of the promised sloes, or any other fruit. It's fine and refreshing overall, like many a modern gose, but that's about it.

And that's about it for this post. Time to tackle those Hagstravaganza notes, I guess.

Whup-ah!

O the flurry and the scurry when new Whiplash beer drops. Two more arrived last week and I found myself hassling Carlos, beer guru at Fresh in Smithfield, to get the boxes open and make sure they rang in at the till.

First out was little Suckerpin, a Berliner weisse with Lemondrop hops and a bijou 3.3% ABV. The aroma is fresh and lemony, if a little hand-wipe-esque, while also intimating a sharp sourness lurking beneath the surface. This doesn't really materialise on sipping, however. In classic Berliner style it's smooth and grainy, softly textured with a decent body, and the flavour has a gentle mineral salinity, more like you'd find in a straight gose. There's a background tartness but that seems to be as much from the super-citric hopping as any lactic bacteria culture. Anyone looking for a Púca-like sour kick will be disappointed, but I like the balance, the cleanness, and the emphasis on hops.

Its companion is the third tall can of double IPA from Whiplash, following the excellent Surrender to the Void and the sublime Saturate. This is Drone Logic, 8% ABV, a hazy (but not murky) orange colour, and depending on Simcoe for its hopping. It smells fantastically juicy, like fresh-squeezed jaffas, with maybe a lightly green dankness to the side. Once again the flavour performs a sneaky bit of bait-and-switch, emphasising the resinous bitterness and leaving the juice still present, but relegated. The finish introduces a new savoury character that confused me: part smoke, part eucalyptus. It doesn't really fit with either the bitterness or the juice and really detracts from the whole picture. I found myself trying to cling on to the orange flavour as it passed fleetingly across my palate on every sip. So this is nearly a great beer but in the final assessment just slips into the too-hot-too-harsh bracket, along with most of the world's other DIPAs.

Hop fruit giveth, and hop fruit taketh away. Neither beers were quite what I was expecting but both gave me plenty to think about.

Points north

I mentioned in Tuesday's post the single Portland brewery that was on Jeff's must-see list. There was only one on mine too: Upright Brewing. This was partly because I'd read good things about it, though also because its opening times meant there was only a small window of opportunity to visit. It's in a north-eastern neighbourhood of the city and we were able to take in a couple of nearby breweries as part of the excursion.

First call, then, was Culmination. This place only opened last year but has already made an impact on Portland and picked up a few awards. I met their marketing guy Steven at the Mt Tabor event and he suggested I drop by: how's that for direct marketing? It's based in a small business centre with several other craftsy start-ups. The bar is quite small but there's a lovely sunny terrace. Let's get the IPAs in.

I opened with their flagship, Phaedrus, a 6.7% ABV number mixing up classical tropical fruit with a bit of a savoury turn and some oily pine resins: all of the new world IPA food groups in a single nutritious serving. As it settles on the palate the peach flavour comes to the fore, while there's a brief flash of bitterness on the end before it all finishes quickly and neatly. Very easy drinking, overall, and pleasant with it.

My wife opted for Translator IPA, brewed by Ruse, a client brewer which uses the Culmination kit to create beers for the local art community and its events. How very Portland. This one is 6.6% ABV and a slightly darker orange than Phaedrus. I got a bit of worrying stickiness on the nose, but thankfully that ended right there. There's a touch of aspirin dryness and it's spicy rather than fruity: a mild sweetness present but under control. This is another decent, easy going IPA, though rather less complex than its cousin.

For the next round I couldn't resist the beer called Sour Flower Power Hour: not an easy phrase with my accent but I did manage to get served. It arrived a clear and pale yellow, tasting of lemon sherbet with just a very light tartness and no weight from its substantial 5.5% ABV. I was reminded a little of White Hag's The Púca, though it's not quite as full-on. The finish is dry and chalky, and haunted by a slightly out of place acrid sharpness which I suspect might be oxidation, but there wasn't enough of it to be sure. The beer still works as a refreshing thirst-quencher.

And lastly Choco Mountain Stout. The name had me expecting a major sugar rush from this 5.8%-er, but that's not what happened. Instead, the aroma opens on a huge kick of dryly roasted grains. The texture is appropriately smooth and creamy while coffee is at the centre of the flavour, though milk chocolate puts in an understated cameo appearance. A slightly severe burnt edge on the finish prevents it from getting sweet and cloying. This is all rather classic and elegant, and not the breakfast cereal disaster implied by its name.

It was a solid half-hour walk to Upright from here. The brewery is notoriously hard to find, buried deep in the bowels of the nondescript Leftbank Project building, another artsy business hub. Down the twisty stairs and winding corridors one eventually arrives in a starkly lit concrete bunker with a handful of folding tables scattered around the tanks and an array of taps bolted to the coldroom wall.

A flight for starters. Beginning on the left of the picture below, that's Four, a 4.5% ABV saison which looks a lot like a witbier to me, and has a very similar gentle orange and dry wheat flavour profile. Stylistic qualms aside, it's a simple quaffable session beer, not about to set the world alight, but not meant to either.

Beside it is Five, another saison, up an ABV notch to 5.5% and this time a clear dark gold colour. This time the style it reminded me of was German bock: that mix of heavy grain and green bitterness. There's also a Belgian estery quality on the periphery of the flavour and just enough saison pepper to be on style. This is another decent but unexciting beer.

Next along is Green Hour, a fresh hop saison at 6.1% ABV. Fuggles from day one of the harvest went into the boil and a month later -- two weeks before drinking -- it was dry hopped with the last of the year's Liberty. It's heavily textured and quite flat. The union of fresh hop fruitiness with saison ester fruitiness gives it an appley quality, a cider tang which felt a little out of place but tasted gorgeous: proper wholesome autumnal refreshment. I've no idea if that was the intention but it worked.

And on the end there is Donuts, based on a recipe from Oedipus Brewery in Amsterdam and intended to taste like donuts. It doesn't. This 4.9% ABV is extremely dry and has a major musty husky cereal component in the taste, a cobwebby burlap staleness. There's just a hint of candied orange sweetness, but it's really quite harsh and difficult beyond that. Certainly a long way from any circular cakey treats.

Moving on to pints, a barrel-aged mixed-fermentation cherry-infused special version of Four, called Four Play. It's a masterpiece of balance, holding all of the many competing elements in check while exploiting them to the full, for the drinker's benefit. There's a bricky nitre dryness that's different to the sort you get in quality Belgian kriek, but just as enjoyable. The dark cherry adds a gentle Black Forest sweetness while the oak gives it a classy smoothness of the sort you normally find in old vintage wines. The combination of sharp, smooth and sweet, seasoned with a dusting of Brettanomyces funk, is absolutely sublime. And all at just 5% ABV. I could have drunk a lot of this guy, always finding something new in it.

Supercool IPA looks remarkably similar to it, but is a very different beer. The aim here is to produce a classic American IPA flavour profile except, in keeping with the house predilections, using a saison yeast. I didn't see which hops were used but I got a major central European vibe off it: lots of sharply bitter damp grass, in  both the aroma and flavour. Saison + IPA = Pilsner? Appropriately for the 6.5% ABV, it's thickly textured, with a kind of oily, greasy feel for which I don't know whether the yeast or hops were responsible. The white pepper bite it delivers is very much saison thing, I'd say. Once you get used to the odd texture and flavours it's quite a decent beer: smooth and well-integrated. The guy who only drinks IPA and picked this as a distress purchase will get a shock, but maybe that's no harm.

Alongside The Commons (mentioned yesterday), Upright is definitely on my top recommendations list for visitors to Portland. Both are having tremendous fun with the highly-attentuated family of Belgian styles, and the ones that don't taste great are at least interesting.

The final brewery for this trek was just a couple of blocks further north: Ex Novo. The company started in 2014 and, uniquely, funnels 100% of its profits to good causes. It was getting late and this place -- another one of those ex garage/workshop spaces -- was already busy but we got a table outside.

I opted for Cactus Wins The Lottery, a prickly pear flavoured Berliner weisse which, understandably, bears a significant resemblance to Sierra Nevada's Otra Vez gose. It has that same slightly sticky pink cactus fruit flavour but nicely balanced by a crisp and sharp tartness. After these two elements spark off each other on the palate it settles back into plain wheat, much like standard unadorned Berliner weisse tends to. It's fun, but doesn't offer much different to a million other flavoured versions of the style.

The session IPA is a 4.5% ABV one called Casual Ex. I got a big hit of caramel from the aroma here, and then wrong-footed completely by a flavour full of watermelons. There's a proper bitterness and a nicely full body, so while it's not the hop rocket I was expecting it is a fun few minutes of drinking.

And there was a rauchbier too: Rauch Paper Scissors, a 5.3% ABV dark lager which would not be at all out of place in Bamberg. It hits the sweet spot of rich hammy smoke against a sparkling clean lager base absolutely perfectly, for properly satisfying down-the-hatch quaffing.

At this point, coming to the end of our last evening in Portland, Jeff had joined us again. And there was another brewery, not far away, he thought we should see.

Tastes of summer

It's bright and breezy brews today, for the longer, sunnier days. First up, Metalman Zwickel, the Waterford brewery's take on the German lager style. Though unfiltered it's not specially hazy and pours from the can a pale shade of yellow. The aroma promises hints of grass and lemons though the flavour is much more malt-driven. I get a wholesome and husky grain flavour foremost in the taste, properly smooth with a satisfyingly full body and not too much fizz. The sweetness levels edge towards candyfloss but there's a late smack of serious green bitterness on the finish that holds it in check. It's a beautiful beer, and totally convincing as a German knock-off. And despite the biggish ABV of 5.3%, it deserves to be quaffed in larger quantities: three cans will fill your Maßkrug nicely.

Sticking on the hazy and yellow theme, we have The Púca next, described by White Hag as a "Dry Hopped Lemon Sour". I found it on tap in The Adelphi on Abbey Street, recently refurbished following a short spell as The Jolly Monk and shaping up into a very nice venue. To be honest I didn't find a whole lot of hops in the beer, and the lemon takes a while to show itself, but it is substantially, deliciously, sour. It has that very straightforward tang that you find in Berliner weisse which is supremely refreshing. The lemons lurk behind this, creating an effect very similar to posh cloudy lemonade. A cereal crunch finishes it off. If I wanted to nitpick I'd say it is a little thin of texture, which I guess is perfectly understandable at just 3.6% ABV. But that's a very minor quibble: this is a beaut and perfect sunny day drinking.

 Galway Bay, meanwhile, has a new amber ale on the taps at its bars, named Althea. My pint in Alfie Byrne's arrived a somewhat murky orange colour. It's only 4.8% ABV but is very thick and chewy. There's lots of resinous dank and spicy pepper in the flavour and it almost tastes bright and juicy but there's a savoury fuzz from the yeast in the glass that gives it a much more serious edge. This got more and more pronounced as I moved down the pint, eventually becoming almost brett-like in its muckiness. There's a very good beer lurking in here somewhere but Althea just misses the mark to be worth the €6 they're asking for it. That's what Goodbye Blue Monday cost, and this is no Goodbye Blue Monday. Clean-up required.

Finally, and staying on a hoppy buzz, I chanced across Eight Degrees Citra on a quiet sunny afternoon a few weeks ago in The Hill. This IPA is 5.7% ABV and is very Citra indeed. All the Citra, in fact. Lemon candy meets herbal cannabis in a recently disinfected bathroom. For all the hop action it's surprisingly sweet-tasting, almost sticky, like a half-sucked boiled sweet, though also like resin, I guess. The texture is greasy, in a not unpleasant way. Citra is impressively put together and will keep the hop-lovers happy but one pint was plenty for me. Next in the brewery's Single Hop series is Mandarina Bavaria, which should be hitting taps over the coming weekend.

Regarding this lot, however, the lighter and cleaner beers are definitely my preference for summer drinking. Amber Ale and IPA can wait until the autumn. At the Killarney Beer Festival which starts today and runs to Sunday, look for me under the Púca tap.