Tripel-blind tasting

Like any good connoisseur of anything, I do like to occasionally calibrate my preferences now and again with a bit of blind tasting, mostly just to satisfy myself that something other than naked snobbery informs my tastes. Over the past few months I've built up a small collection of tripels and recently I took the time to have them set up incognito for tasting.

The main point of the testing centred on Leffe Tripel: I tend to blithely deride the Leffe range as being ersatz factory-made versions of proper Belgian beer, but does that stand up to scrutiny? Obviously a genuine Trappist had to go in the mix for contrast, and I chose Westmalle Tripel, which I believe to be my favourite. From the abbey beers I took Bosteels Tripel Karmaliet -- an old reliable -- and Maredsous Tripel by big boys Duvel-Mortgaat, one I'd liked on the only previous occasion I'd tasted it. Finally I needed a wild card, a tripel I'd never had before and knew nothing about. This quest was answered by Tripel Horse, extra wild card points for being not Belgian, but from the River Horse brewery in New Jersey.

Expectations were that Westmalle would come out on top, Leffe would be a thin shadow of the others, and the American would be way off the mark. As usual, pleasingly, this isn't what happened.

The first thing to say is that, although the beers were discernably different, they were all recognisably tripels: all had the powerful boozy heat (ABVs ranged from 8 to 10), the heavy sugary body and the spicy Belgian complexity. It was the minor differences in these elements that set them apart.

My least favourite was far and away the palest in colour with much more fizz than the others. The nose was incredibly sweet with an artificial syrup thing going on. It tasted heavily of cheap ginger ale and was drinkable but not very enjoyable over all. Amazingly, this turned out to be Tripel Karmaliet. Mrs Beer Nut liked it for its subtle floral notes and ranked it second; the best I can say is that I later got used to it. None went to waste.

Second-last was the haziest, with the biggest head of foam. It was the sweetest of the lot, reeking of dark sugar and with a big banana flavour among the spices, something I consider a flaw in the Belgian-style ales I've made myself. There's a certain balance to it, but mostly it tastes like tripel-by-numbers, made without the attentions of a caring brewer. No surprise here that it turned out to be Leffe Tripel.

Right in the middle there was another fairly heavy-going one, the darkest in colour with very little head or sparkle. Not so much spice or fruit here, just lots of heat and a hint of marker pens. Tripel isn't supposed to be an easy drinking style, so most of this can be forgiven, leaving a serious and heady sipper. This was the wife's favourite: Maredsous Tripel.

Which leaves the Trappist and the American vying for the top spot. Knock me down with a feather if Westmalle Tripel didn't come second. The aroma of this was gorgeous: subtle perfume, masking any hot sugary booze smells. The spices are to the fore on tasting: there's a hoppy bite at the front which is a little harsh, but then fades to allow lavender and cloves through. Beautiful, but not as nice as...

... Tripel Horse. Another powerhouse like the Maredsous at 10% ABV, but doesn't really show signs of all that alcohol. Instead it has zest: a zingy aroma followed by lemons and mandarins on the palate for an invigorating refreshing effect, enhanced by a vigorous sparkle. The finish is sweet and sugary, but not in an unpleasant cloying way -- sweet and lip-smacking instead. Would I have credited it as an American take on a Belgian style? Never in a million beers.

And then there was the unpleasant business of disposing of the guts of five bottles of tripel. It's hard work this blind tasting lark, but rewarding nonetheless.

White geese

The beers of Goose Island are usually fairly recognisable, with their distinct logo and the name of the brewery in big letters. I'm not sure whether the white label Belgian-style ales are simply reflective of creativity, or if they're trying to pass these off as something other than your friendly neighbourhood goose.

The tripel (er, or not: see comments) in the set is called Matilda and pours a pale amber colour with very little by way of head, after the initial surprise of pouring this sort of beer from a screwtop bottle. That it's made with a Belgian yeast strain is immediately abundantly clear from the spicy aroma coming straight off the top. Expecting complexity, I was surprised at what happened next. The taste isn't much like a tripel at all. It's a touch thin and the dominant flavour is tannic. More than anything else it reminds me of sweet, slightly lemony, tea. It's quite a simple beer when it comes down to it, and I liked it for that.

The matching dubbel in the range is called Pere Jacques. It's appropriately dark, though like Matilda there's worryingly little sediment in it. They haven't bothered with the soft carbonation and thick foam of a Belgian dubbel, opting instead for decapitation and prickly fizz. Caramel and sherry dominate the aroma, and flavourwise we're talking nutmeg, molasses, plums -- all the usual stuff you would expect in a real Belgian dark ale, just without the weighty treacle body. Which, frankly, is a shame.

I paid over the odds for this pair (so did Reuben, for at least one). They're good, but they're not better than the Abt 12s, Tripel Karmeliets and Westmalles of this world, despite carrying a much heftier price tag.

A drop of Irish

The wife and I took the day off on Friday and headed down the coast to Bray, a town we hadn't visited in several years. This is where The Porterhouse began, before the building of their (now dismantled) Temple Bar brewery, and it still retains a more traditional vibe, with Guinness and Heineken on tap. The annual Belgian beer festival is on across the chain at the moment, and in addition to some lovely draught Belgian ales (Abt 12, Tripel Karmaliet, et al) they've brewed up a new batch of their wonderful Chocolate Truffle Stout normally only seen in the spring. Chocolate, Belgian: geddit? A couple of pints of that in the front yard, overlooking the sea, made for a fine start to the weekend.

Saturday was brew day at home: an uncertain attempt at a dubbel. After the clean-up we headed for the Bull & Castle where the cask of the moment is Carlow Brewing's Curim Gold. I've never really been a fan of this in the bottle: it's a little bit bland and soapy. They'd never casked it before, but did so on request from the Bull & Castle who wanted something light and summery for the handpump, after a succession of stouts. Good thing they did, because it was fantastic. Belgian witbier is the closest approximation, and it has that spicy yeast character on top of refreshing zingy lemon flavours enhanced by some supreme sparkly conditioning -- so good you'd nearly think it was from a keg. Between four of us, we had the barrel drained by closing time.

There was just one deviation to the wheatiness -- a recently-arrived strong red ale from Hilden called Cathedral Quarter. It's the second in their series named after districts of Belfast, and I have to say I wasn't keen on the first one -- Titanic Quarter. However, the pour from this 5.3% ABV beer was promising, offering up summer fruit aromas and more than a hint of a Fuller's-esque toffee effect. The first sip was a major let-down, then. Stale, musty and cardboardy: a shame because there's clearly a good beer under it. As I drank, I found it mellowed a bit and the toffee returned accompanied by milk chocolate and butterscotch. I was getting quite into it by the end, though Níall who was drinking one beside me was less impressed. Can't really recommend this, I'm afraid.

It can be a bit swings-and-roundabouts with Irish beer sometimes, but with a gorgeous chocolate stout and a delectable cask wheatbeer in exchange for a musty red, I reckon I'm still up on the deal.

Just a taster

I'm going to Belgium tomorrow.
Oh, that felt good. I think I'll write it again.
I'm going to Belgium. Tomorrow.

It's therefore a bit daft of me to have cracked open a bottle of Belgian beer since I'll be drinking little else for the rest of the week, but here we are. The beer in question is a Tripel Karmeliet, from Brussels. It's quite a bit clearer than any of the Trappist tripels, with barely any discernible sediment. The colour is rather more orange than I was expecting. Tastewise, however, it's pretty much bang-on. There's the rich orange-peel fruitiness characteristic of the style, enhanced by the weight of alcohol. In fact, it's only 8%: virtually a session tripel. I'd criticise it only on a lack of spice. There's none of the coriander prickle found in the better-known brands. Still, it'll do to be getting on with, oh yes.