"Mont Blanc, in awful majesty"

I had a number of candidates for this month's Session. It's hosted by Ashley of Drink With The Wench and the theme is Frankenstein Beers: those beers and brewers who defy conventional wisdom and employ way-out methods to produce strange and unsettling results. Presumably we get extra points if we identify any that are ultimately responsible for the downfall of their creator.

Wednesday's blueberry stout was one I considered, and there are a few other odds and sods in the fridge with unusual adjuncts that would have done too, but nothing really stood out. And then on Saturday Dave and Laura dropped me over a box of assorted beers they'd picked up on holiday in France. One of them was from Brasserie du Mont Blanc, in the ill-starred doctor's back yard, and was a lurid shade of bright green. Were Victor Frankenstein a brewer, this is definitely what he'd be turning out.

According to the blurb, the active ingredient in La Verte is genepy, a cousin of wormwood and the principal flavouring in Chartreuse liqueur. According to this drinker's palate, however, the active ingredient is sugar. It's not as sweet as some French concoctions I've tasted in the past (and another I'll be reviewing in the near future) but it's still leaning towards the alcopop side of the scale. There is however, a bit of hop character, mostly on the nose: you can trust the clear glass packaging to bring that out pungently. And the genepy is there too, subtly. Mrs Beer Nut described it as a slightly warming effect, like ginger. I wouldn't go that far, but it's definitely along those lines: a herbal piquancy that struggles to make itself heard over the shouty sugar. The colour, with tragic inevitability, is artificial.

If it wasn't so sweet and so strong (5.9% ABV) I'd nearly be willing to admit this as a sunny day refresher. It's light enough with enough zing to carry it. But as-is, it's drinkable but not one you'd go running back to. Not a monster; merely a misbegotten and unfortunate creation.

Please think of the tourists

Series beers are all well and good, generally speaking. It's pleasant to sit down with a range of beers which have been brewed to have something in common, and which are presented in co-ordinated outfits (though to actually do so may occasionally be inadvisable). Maybe it's the collector gene firing, but having completed a whole series of beers is much more satisfying than having just ticked one.

The unfortunate side effect is when the drinker doesn't get the chance to complete the series. I spotted Dark Horse's five matching stouts, in their oh-so-arty bottles, on the shelves of Ølbutikken with my hands already full of other goodies. The third one in the series struck me as especially interesting, but it felt wrong to take it while leaving the other -- doubtless excellent, but not as weird -- beers behind. Yet I didn't have a choice. Damn you, Dark Horse: if you hadn't decided to number them I'd wouldn't now be feeling I've missed something.

But enough ethics and angst; the beer I came away with is called Tres and is something I've never seen nor even heard tell of before: a blueberry stout. From the dark brown head on a treacle-thick body I took it to be a strong one, an opinion backed up by the heady chocolate liqueur aroma and foretaste of smoke, vanilla, cocoa and marzipan. It tastes very much from the imperial school of stout-making. No ABV appears on the label and I was very surprised on looking it up to discover that it's a mere 4.5% ABV. Session strength imperial stout? Yeah, I could go for that.

And where are the blueberries in all this, I hear you cry. Well, they're there, hanging on at the tail end for dear life. I couldn't be at all sure if real fruit was used as it's a slightly syrupy, sweet flavour. It could pass unnoticed very easily, I think, were the drinker not informed in advance of its presence. I question whether it really adds anything much to a beer which was already a powerhouse of taste.

A positive assessment for this one overall, and it's good enough that the absence of major blueberries isn't upsetting or annoying. It's enjoyable for what it is, distinct from any individual ingredient and from any of its sibling stouts. Which I'll probably spend the rest of my days seeking.