Not from around here

With the discourse all about the native brewing traditions of the nordic regions, it can be easy to forget that they make normal beers up there too. Today's subjects are from Lithuania, acquired in Irish grocery chain Polonez. The first two come from Gubernija, a brewery I last encountered in Vilnius, trying both traditional and mainstream examples of their wares. Here it's strictly lager.

Their Bohemian Pilsner began with an awkward pour, though the resulting stiff pile of foam was very handsome. Surprise one was that the body is slightly hazy, resembling a kellerbier more than anything, and not the bland industrial pils I was expecting. There's a pleasant grassy aroma suggesting classic noble hops, though the foretaste is oddly sweet, showing the spongecake and honey of a Helles, set on an almost creamy texture. Maybe that's the Czech stylings kicking in. The hops return in the finish, albeit gently, bringing more of a dryness than a bitterness. While not amazing, it's a pleasant sip: full bodied and satisfying, yet extremely sessionable at only 4.6% ABV.

There's no attempt at copying another nation's beer style with the plainly-named Classic Extra. Perhaps the one from Švyturys of the same name is the model. At 5.2% ABV it is indeed extra to the above. It's darker too, but still hazy. The aroma is metallic, in a slightly unpleasant way, while the flavour is extremely plain. You get glimpses of cakey malt, banana esters and a mineral rasp, but nothing distinctive and nothing that signifies good lager. The texture too is lacking, with none of the body that the Pilsner showed. If it's a Švyturys clone, it's a damning indictment of that brewery's ability. This is an entirely forgettable beer and it's almost hard to believe it comes from the same producer as the one above.

With the score at 1-1 we leave Gubernija and turn to Volfas Engelman, less of a stranger to these pages. I haven't been impressed by their efforts at cloning "world beer" styles, among which is the Blond witbier, reviewed here. Doubtless because of my review, they've had another go at it, so here's Blanc, and this time they have got the ABV right at 5%. The visuals are reasonable: it's hazy and yellow with a fine mousse on top. A striking lemon perfume comes off the surface, dessert-like but not unpleasant. So it's sweet, but it gets away with it. There's a somewhat artificial vibe to the flavour: banana foam sweets first, then a lasting finish, all white lemonade and cream soda. And yet it's clean; it doesn't cloy, and gentle carbonation is sufficient to lift the sugar off the palate. There's a pleasing pear-like crisp freshness. This is no classic witbier, but it has a charm, with its cheeky fun character.

Leaving the Extra aside, there's quality to be had from Lithuanian beers in Ireland. Here are two you can try when you're bored of the Czech and Belgian archetypes.

Stay in your lane!

I wasn't expecting much from the next in Volfas Engelman's Tastes of the World series, having been disappointed last time out. This time it's a "Belgian style wheat ale" -- so a witbier -- called Blond. That's a mainstay style for the beginner home brewer so a macrobrewery should be able to manage it. Immediate points off for being only 4.5% ABV, though it looks well: the proper bright and hazy yellow with a fine and lasting foam. The aroma is sweetly citric, like candied lemons, and I hoped the flavour would balance that with dry wheat and herbs. It doesn't. Instead it's extremely, cloyingly, sweet and syrupy, taking a weirdly tropical turn, suggesting passionfruit, mango and lychee in their stickiest, most concentrated form. I'm glad I wasn't drinking it on a warm day because the refreshment power is next to zero. This isn't offensive, but it's hard work. You need to have your sweet tooth screwed in firmly.

Time for an altogether more class act. I hope. Bravoro, in its own words, is a pale lager, composed of four hop varieties from German and Czech lands, and "an entire head above". Sure enough, there's the head, right on top as promised. Beneath, it's a cheery and clear medium gold with a faint biscuit aroma but not much else to say, smellwise. It's fairly sweet, in a Helles kind of way, mixing cake and candyfloss on a big fluffy body, entirely in keeping with the 5.2% ABV. Those vaunted hops bring a faint trace of grass and celery to the finish, leaving a cleansing peppermint aftertaste. There are no gimmicks or above-station ideas here; it's a super-clean and enjoyable pale lager in a big can for a very reasonable price. Bravo, Bravoro.

I understand why traditional breweries feel they have to offer diversity. That's the shape the beer market is now, and while I doubt it's essential for survivial, they also have shareholders to appease and a drive to shift ever greater quantities of product to new demographics. I'm reasonably sure there will always be a market for understated quality beers like Bravoro, even when the novelty-chasers have moved on.