Northern brewers

You'll only find one entry on RateBeer for my home town of Armagh. Hardly surprising as whatever the opposite of a beer Mecca is, Armagh is one. There isn't even a brewery in the county, though quite rightly its cider industry appears to be thriving and on my last trip I was very pleased to see MacIvor's making great in-roads to the on-trade.

That solitary beacon of hope on RateBeer is The Wine Store, an off licence attached to the sprawling Emerson's supermarket. I rarely get a chance to drop in but did so on my last visit, grabbing everything I'd never had before from the considerable selection of Northern Irish beers.

I opened the Hopburst IPA from Farmageddon almost immediately. This is 6.2% ABV and a nice clear dark orange, despite the cheeky advice on the label that "it may be cloudy - harden up - it's craft beer." There's a certain tart sourness in the aroma, redolent of lime marmalade. Malt drives the flavour but there's more of that lime too, all sharp and rather oily. I guess it's really a classic English-style IPA at heart, reminding me of the marmalade-on-wholegrain-toast effect I always enjoy in White Shield, but it's been given just an extra citrus twist in line with modern tastes and it all works rather well. The last Farmageddon beer I encountered was undrinkable so Hopburst has gone a long way to restore my faith in the brewery.

Next up, Crann, the first in a collaboration series between west Ulster breweries Poker Tree and Inishmacsaint with the former doing the brewing while the latter handled the bottling process. It's a 6.6% ABV bière de garde, pouring a gorgeous clear honey colour and smelling crisp, sherbety, and with maybe just a mild sourness too. A look at the label tells me that cranberries, raisins and spruce tips have been added to the recipe, and it's the first of these which really shines out: that refreshing tartness combined with sweet juicy fruit is a winning combination. There's a slightly harsh and vegetal bitterness in the finish, which could be either the hops or the spruce, or a combination of both, but it doesn't interfere with the main act. They've marketed this as a winter beer, but I found it worked just as well on a warm day. It's a wonderful accomplishment and I look forward to many more daring collaborations like it.

Hillstown is a brand new brewery to me, based on a farm in Co. Antrim. First up, a red ale with the suitably farm-y name of Massey Red. The label makes claims of sessionability but at 5.2% ABV we're dealing with a bit more booze than is usual for the style. It's a relatively clear copper colour, which is a pleasant surprise, and the texture is light and the carbonation low. Flavourwise I get a generous dose of milk chocolate, a decent amount of roast cereal, and then lots and lots of balsamic strawberries. Strawberry isn't unknown in the Irish red flavour profile, but the balsamic bit suggests to me that this hasn't turned out quite as the brewer intended. The acid sourness is very apparent in the aroma too, adding an unpleasant gastric tang. Homebrewish and all that it is, it's still drinkable. I doubt I'd be on for a session, however, especially not if letting it get any way warm is on the cards.

We move to smaller bottles for the next ones. Horny Bull stout is 7% ABV and looks handsome in a half pint glass, topped by a rock-steady tan-coloured head. There's more of that balsamic in the aroma plus the promise of lots of dark malt. There's a lot of vinegar in the flavour. "Fruity hops," says the label, "chocolate and coffee": no, not really. There's a strong Flemish Oud Bruin vibe, the heavier sort with those HP Sauce molasses and tamarind qualities. It's tough going to drink and again I don't think this is how it's meant to taste. These two bottles suggest to me that the brewery doesn't have its hygiene protocols nailed down. So how about a third, then?

Last up from Hillstown is The Goat's Butt, a wheat beer with added rye. It's certainly carbonated in keeping with the style spec, ie up the wazoo. The first pour gave me a lightly hazy pale yellow glassful, made only slightly more opaque when I topped it off after the foam subsided. There's a farty sulphurous aroma which I've encountered in microbrewed wheat beers before, generally when they're very young and I suspect that's the case with this one. It's not off-putting, though. Beneath it there's a rather crisp and plain witbier, the light texture hiding 5.3% ABV very well indeed. I get a touch of juicy jaffa, though from the hops I assume, as no orange is listed in the ingredients. This is simple, refreshing and, gloriously, not infected.

Hillstown's heart seems to be in the right place with these recipes but the execution needs a bit of polishing. Mind you, the same could once be said of every other brewery featured here so there's good reason to be hopeful.

A rare occurrence

Hooray for freebies! This collection arrived courtesy of Molson Coors Ireland who seem to be on a bit of a PR drive at the moment, hot on the heels of their recent acquisition of the Irish microbrewing veteran Franciscan Well down in Cork. No Rebel Red in the bundle, however. Instead there was a bottle of Sharp's Doom Bar: a dull brown bitter which even from the cask I've never been a fan of, and which isn't in any way helped by the clear glass bottle. Also a bottle each of rightly acknowledged classic English IPA Worthington's White Shield and the newer blonde ale Red Shield: a worthy sibling. A bottle of P2 imperial stout would have closed off this set from the William Worthington Brewery in Burton nicely, but moochers can't be choosers.

And then the ones that really interested me: three brand extensions from the company's American faux-craft line, Blue Moon. The styles are varied -- a pale ale, an amber ale and an abbey beer -- yet the strengths are pretty uniform at around 5½% ABV.

I opened the Belgian-Style Pale Ale first, a beer known elsewhere as Pale Moon. I notice the unpleasantness a few years ago with the Confederation of Belgian Breweries hasn't prevented them describing this as a "Belgian Pale Ale" elsewhere on the label, despite it never having been near the low countries in its life. Corporate shenanigans aside, how does it taste? Well, not of very much. It's far more of a dark amber than would be normal for a pale ale, and there's a weight which comes with that: a slightly sugary malt thing, though without any of the caramel or toffee depth that one might expect. On top of this there's a mild fruity tang which I think owes more to the orange peel and hibiscus they've inexplicably thrown in here than the Cascade hops they also claim. The label adds further that wheat has been included, making the whole thing a sort of hybrid of standard Blue Moon and pale ale. Odd that it doesn't have more going on in it then, but it's not unpleasant either. Anyone looking for an American-style pale ale, or something in the Taras Boulba genre, will be sorely disappointed.

I was hoping for something a bit more interesting from Blue Moon Spiced Amber Ale. This is a few grades darker: a beautiful chestnut red and lighter in texture than the Pale Ale. Complex it isn't, but it's certainly interesting. The one flavour that jumps out is the cinnamon, toasted grain and brown sugar of Christmas cookies, not in any way sickly or artificial, but smooth and pleasantly warming. This is one of two Blue Moon winter seasonals and is perfectly, seasonally winterish.

Unfortunately the same cannot be said of Blue Moon Winter Abbey Ale. This poured quite a pale, clear red and completely headless, despite lots of interfering fizz. Unsurprisingly it's sweet and caramelly but this isn't given any fruity depth by any Belgian yeast flavours, which makes it a non-runner as an abbey beer. Overall it's just too thin and one-dimensional to be worth anyone's time, especially since it'll likely be sharing shelf space and price brackets with several world-class Belgian dubbels.

Generally speaking, Molson Coors's attempt to twist their passable orangey wheat beer into different styles is not something that's in the drinker's interest, even when he's getting the bottles for nothing.

The big Bux

Buxton Brewery from Derbyshire were a newcomer to Borefts and I confess I was quite sceptical when I first saw their presence listed. Groundbreaking revolutionaries like Kernel and Thornbridge are one thing, but what is this run-of-t'mill northern micro doing there? How many Dutch beer geeks can you wow with a 1.038 brown bitter? How wrong I was: I don't know if it was their A-game that Buxton brought, but it had the beatings of many others there.

The highlight for me was Tsar Bomba, a 10% ABV imperial stout. Its origins lie in a bottle of 1978 Courage Imperial Russian Stout, sent to the lab for analysis which showed that the only thing still living in it was Courage's hungry and deathless strain of Brettanomyces. Buxton cultured it up and fermented Tsar Bomba with it. My first thought on tasting it was "Oh, Orval has made a stout." The Brett funk is right up at the front but it's not overpowering: there's enough chocolate smoothness to hold it in check, providing a residual dark sweetness that not even this beast of a yeast could chomp through. And just on the end that assertive tang of hops. A strange and challenging beer, but in a quite delicious way.

Beer name of the festival goes to Smokey and the Band-Aid, a dark ale that is apparently quite deliberate in its phenols: the name suggests to me an attempt to deal with customer expectations when something has gone wrong but I'm reliably informed that's it's an adaptation of a homebrew recipe of the head brewer. It's actually quite subtle in its smokiness, though the phenols are clear as a bell: Laphroaig or TCP coming in loud and clear while the underlying sweet 7.5% ABV stout is just about detectable beneath. It's quite a full-on experience, but still balanced and nothing to be afraid of.

Buxton also produce a terribly impressive black IPA in the form of 7.5% ABV Imperial Black.This tastes like it has been hopped every which way, being powerfully greenly bitter and also succulently fruity. Only a tiny, missable hint of roast at the end suggests dark grains, otherwise this just tastes like a really really good IPA. For those who think that the style is simply a kind of hoppy porter, this is the one to change your minds.

Two paler ones to finish off with Buxton: Wild Boar is a hazy gold blonde ale of 5.7% ABV featuring fantastically sharp and zingy hop aromas. It's more rounded on tasting, melding flowery hops with toffee malt to form delicious perfumed caramel. I'd place it broadly in the category of English IPAs which includes White Shield and Bengal Lancer, but it tastes more modern than either. For something a little stronger there's Axe Edge: leaning more heavily on the hop side of the scales, this has a heady spicy funk to it, mixing up the soft fruit and astringent medicinal character of different hop strains but providing enough of a malt base to carry them off without unbalancing the flavour altogether.

Overall a quality performance from Buxton and I'll be looking out for more of theirs.

The last British beer I had was operating covertly at the Emelisse stand. The Dutch brewery was a collaborator on Earl Grey IPA but it was brewed at the Marble Brewery in Manchester. It's a fizzy pale gold beer, just under 7% ABV but quite plain tasting. The added flavourings give it a pleasant summery honey and mandarin nose but on tasting it's more scented soap than posh tea, but barely even that.

While we're at the Emelisse bar we may as well see what else they've got. A Red IPA? How jolly! This is a nicely balanced chap, quite heavily textured but neither cloyingly sweet nor particularly hopped up. Taking a bit of a liberty with the IPA designation there, but they're hardly the first brewery to do so.

And just a quick sideways hop over to Belgium to round off this post, and a visit to the mental experimentalists of Alvinne. Some of this brewery's output can be hard to handle but I struck gold with the three I tried at Borefts, all wine-barrel-aged. Undressed is a dark ruby ale in the Flemish red vernacular and has that wonderful mouthwatering tartness that makes the style an ideal thirst-quencher. The barrel adds an even more quenching tannic quality so, despite the acetic tang on the finish, I could happily neck this in indecent quantities. But we move on to Wild West, a headless orange-amber beer with powerful lactic sourness reminding me of the most assertive lambics. Deep underneath this there's a trace of Lucozade sweetness trying to make itself heard. It has just enough of a sparkle to make it refreshing, though I couldn't say what effect the red wine barrels have had on it.

Lastly, Cuvée d'Erpigny was billed as a barley wine, but was a similar ruby-brown to the Undressed and possessed the same sort of sour Flemish red aroma. It's not sour on tasting, though, due in part I'm sure to the Montbazillac barrel it was aged in. This has imparted a distinct botrytised sweetness which, combined with the smooth and heavy texture and 13% ABV, immediately conjures Tokaji or eiswein. This combines effortlessly with the caramel malt and an unequivocal hop bite to make a beer that should be a complete mess but all works together in a fascinating way.

And just when I thought things couldn't get any more strangely delicious, we come to the last two breweries at the festival...

Indus crispy Dancakes

We're Lancashire-bound today, with two beers from Thwaites.

I started with Indus, an IPA. It looked to be pouring a bit flat and it took a bit of coaxing to get a loose-bubbled head to form on the top. It didn't last long. However the beer really benefits from the low carbonation as it creates a wonderful cask-like effect, with just enough sparkle to push the flavours out. Naturally enough, it's hops out front: good honest English varieties by the taste of them, with lots of floral orange blossom laid on quite intensely, creating almost a resinous burn while staying clean and crisp, avoiding all harshness. At 4.6% ABV it's around a percentage point weaker than the likes of White Shield and Bengal Lancer, but I'd regard it as being very much in the same league. The balance of marmalade and toffee you get in the others isn't present here, but the hop punchiness makes up for it for me. Tangy, sinkable and with a lasting bitterness, I really enjoyed it.

I think I only bought the Indus because it was in a four-for-a-tenner deal in my local branch of The Beer Club and what I was really after was the brewery's old ale Old Dan. Dan had a tough act to follow. I was expecting something much darker than this red-amber beer, which proved quite gold around the edges and topped by a pale beige head. The first sniff gave me boozy sherry or calvados and the taste is pure fruitcake: plums, raisins, cherries and a great big glug of alcohol. More than 33cl would be hard to take, I reckon: the flavours and the thick syrupy texture build up on each other until it starts to get quite cloying. As an after dinner liqueur substitute, shared perhaps, it's wonderful.

Home, and away

For only the second time in its history, The Session comes to Ireland. This one's in the care of my good friend and drinking buddy Reuben, and the  topic is Thanks To The Big Boys. It's something we know a bit about here, with two foreign breweries controlling 90-something per cent of the beer market. But I'm not going to talk about them.

Instead, a different foreign multinational which operates in Ireland, though three beers it doesn't actually sell here. These came courtesy of Reuben himself, via Kristy and the MolsonCoors people in the UK. All three are brewed at the William Worthington Brewery which is sited in the National Brewery Museum at MolsonCoors's base in Burton-on-Trent, recently developed and expanded under the supervision of master brewer Steve Wellington, one of the most respected names in English beer. So how does the Canadio-American giant do when it comes to quaint English ale?

The only truly modern one in the bunch is Red Shield, a brand extension from the well-known White Shield IPA. This suffers a bit from the problem Pete Brown identified with Stella Black a while ago: breweries should not include a beery colour in a beer name if the beer isn't actually that colour. Brown's Law. So Red Shield isn't red, it's a golden blonde affair throwing off bittersweet scents of posh cloudy lemonade from the the get-go. After it you get lovely summery fresh peachy flavours, deepening to boiled sweets with the bitterness asserting itself as it warms. I'm not seeing much in common with the stoic orangey warmth of White Shield, but as a lightly-sparkled zingy sunny day refresher, served chilled, Red Shield is impossible to dislike.

Next up is Worthington E. An odd choice for resurrection, this, as it was previously best known from its time as a dodgy bitter back in the 1970s, before England learned how to brew nice keg beer. Prior to that it had been a well-respected Burton pale ale, and the recipe used here is one from 1965. It is, for rheumey-eyed hankerers after the classic beers from England's Big Six, the closest thing to Bass ale as it was in its heyday. (For those not familiar with the history, Bass acquired the Worthington brewery in 1927, and in 2002 MolsonCoors took possession of the Bass brewery, the recipes and everything else except the Bass name).

I can't imagine this bottle-conditioned version is much like the cask classic. It's fizzy as all hell with an irritating thick mattress of foam blocking access to the slightly hazy dark amber body beneath. The nose is subtly hoppy, reminding me of the not unpleasant stale beer aroma of a mostly-empty pub on a Saturday afternoon. The first pull delivers sticky, hard caramel followed by a mildly bitter orange oiliness. It keeps its balance and finishes on a classic Burton spark of gunpowder sulphur. In that typical English way it's understated without being at all bland; but the whole is let down by the overactive prickly fizz. This beer deserves more quiet dignity than the bottle affords it.

Last of the line-up is P2, a name which for me conjures images of Roberto Calvi hanging from Blackfriars Bridge with bricks in his pockets. No, I wasn't part of the focus group when this was launched. It's a full-on big-flavoured imperial stout, making waves at 8% ABV normally associated with beers in the 10-12% bracket. Like all the best imperial stouts the hops have been laid on heavy and bitter, giving an invigorating vegetal tang to the foretaste. The middle is all smooth and woody sherry followed by luxuriously silky dark chocolate. 8% ABV: I check the label again like a drunk in a cartoon. When the dark booziness leaves the stage the hops stir themselves for a slightly metallic encore. P2 is one of those complex but very drinkable beers that expert British brewers excel at.

Of course, any sane beer drinker knows that brewery size is no measure of beer quality, and that delicious beer can come from a Fortune 500 company just as easily as a tiny family-run one, so long as attention is paid to the ingredients and the methods. MolsonCoors may not be quite Fortune 500, but they seem to know what they're doing at the William Worthington plant.

Thanks to Reuben and the MolsonCoors UK folk for the bottles.

Next month The Session crosses the Irish Sea to be looked after by Mr. Brown himself, but we're taking it back in December when Steve in Cookstown will be at the reins.

Stateside classics

Rounding up the American beer evening that Reuben hosted a while back with three breweries whose stuff really stood out.

I've already covered a few from Great Divide, though I was surprised on checking back that I've never had their Titan IPA before -- I guess Hercules, the double IPA, occupies a similar space in my head. It's been my loss too as this is great stuff: that classic sherbet character of US IPA finishing with an intense oily bitterness that really wakes up the palate. Dialling the hops back but keeping the sherbet there's Samurai, brewed with rice. It's a suitably pale yellow but is no dull watery cheap-tasting guzzler. Lots of zesty lemon flavours leap out of the glass and the body is remarkably full, given the look of the thing. Lots of fizz, on the downside, but still a quality beer.

Somewhere between these two comes Denver Pale Ale. Aroma of biscuits and fresh fruit, with honey added into the mix on tasting. It's a smooth and mellow ale, worth taking time over. As is the Great Divide porter Saint Bridget's (we'll pass discreetly over the trucker's mudflap of a label). It's absolutely packed with rich and warming chocolate flavours, to the point of seeming almost powdery.

Next up a brewery I had never heard of before: Lazy Magnolia of Mississippi: the Magnolia State, dontcherknow. Indian Summer promised more than it gave. Yes it's a wheat beer, but there's more than the average amount of coriander and orange peel in here giving it some lovely light botanicals on the nose. The taste is oddly sour, however: a throwback to when Hoegaarden was spontaneously fermented, perhaps? Anyway, when the label says "Spiced Ale" I expect a bit more welly.

Such shortcomings were more than made up for by the other offer from Lazy Magnolia: Southern Pecan. It's banoffi as beer: heavy, sweet yet deliciously moreish with lots of biscuits and brown sugar, plus the pecans, of course. Easily the best American brown ale I've ever met.

Finally, to a brewery particularly close to our host's heart and one whose beers he particularly wanted to introduce us to: Bell's of Kalamazoo. The sunny orange and turquoise branding of Oberon is entirely appropriate. Another wheat beer, this one shows lots of light and breezy fruit, with candied orange in the driving seat. It's fun and dangerously easy drinking at 5.8% ABV -- that's going to sneak up on you pretty quickly, I reckon.

The brewery's IPA is called Two Hearted making it, as far as I know, the only commercial beer in existence named in tribute to Doctor Who. A whopping 7% ABV would suggest that this is an all-American badboy, but my impressions were more those of the better class of British IPA. It's that balance of bitter marmalade on a big toasted grain body, perhaps finishing a tiny bit soapy or metallic that has me recalling White Shield and Bengal Lancer. It's a comfortable and balanced beer: hopped up and powerfully strong, of course, but gentle and reassuring with it.

Enough beers for one afternoon's drinking? Time to grab the last bus back to the big smoke? Oh just a pint from the kegerator for the road, then...

Thanks to Adam and Richard for bringing along beers and for the company, and a massive thank you to Reuben and Hilary for a great day out and one hell of a virtual tour of American breweries both great and small.

Guild by association

Thursday last saw the annual awards dinner of the British Guild of Beer Writers. Over the last couple of years I've read enviously of the event's food-and-drink proceedings on other blogs so this year I decided I'd hie myself over to London for the evening and experience it first hand. With, y'know, the outside possibility of a supplementary beer or two somewhere on the peripheries of the occasion. There's an Old Ale Festival on at The White Horse at the same time? Well fancy that...

Less than four hours after leaving home I was pushing the front door of London's newest craft beer specialist The Euston Tap. Located in a tiny kiosk out in front of Euston station, the bar and fridges are well-stocked with carefully chosen delights from Britain, the continent and the US. A row of American-style tap-handles sits atop the numbered cask taps, with blackboards either side proclaiming the contents. So where to start?

Fortunately, Tandleman was on hand for advice, and first up was a half of Fyne Ales Maverick. Worryingly brown, it's actually surprisingly highly hopped -- bitter and crisp, like an understated version of those Black IPAs the cool kids are all drinking these days. Marble's W90 was another recommendation: a fantastic nose of fresh grapefruit and a flavour that's much more about the bitterness than the fruit. Just on the end there's a teeny bit of metal and mustiness but not sufficient to spoil the overall enjoyment of this ever-so-friendly hop monster.

Picking randomly from the keg selection I got a Matuška Raptor, an IPA hailing from the new Czech ale revolution. I don't know what the hops used here were, but they exude a strongly perfumed aroma. The beer underneath is heavy enough to carry it, though, with a strong tannic element. The whole thing reminds me of a beefed-up version of Adnam's Innovation and is quite tasty.

Time was marching on, so one for the road. Oh, is that Thornbridge Alliance just gone on? One of those please. Before the glass of mahogany ale was anywhere near my nose, I knew I wasn't going anywhere for a while. This 11% ABV beer is monstrously sweet and advertises this fact loudly to everyone in its vicinity. Freeze-distill a Belgian dubbel, mix in some Special Brew and throw the whole lot in a madeira barrel for a few months and you get the idea. It's smooth, it's smoky; there are plums and vanilla-roasted chestnuts aplenty. One of those beers where the descriptors keep on coming. Hard work to drink it, but well worthwhile.

With a quick hello to Yan the proprietor and the recently-arrived Jeff Pickthall, I was off to my lodgings and already thinking fond thoughts of dinner. The theme was south-west Indian and the chef Sriram Aylur from Quilon. On arrival there were canapes and some corporate hospitality of the beery sort. I followed Ron Pattinson to the Brains table and started the evening with some Brains Dark -- a velvety chocolate-laced black beer, simple and drinkable, and not distracting from Ron's tales of brewing at Fuller's. A warming and deliciously marmaladey White Shield saw me through to the table where I was reunited with Tandleman and met his missus, the lovely E; Fletch from Real Ale Reviews; blogger and amateur brewer, the exceedingly unchunky Chunk; Mr & Mrs Rabidbarfly and the couple whom my wife refers to as "The Hardknotts", like they're a '70s sitcom.

I won't bore you with a course-by-course account of what we ate and drank, you can click the picture (right) for a look. The food was all excellent and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed Goose Island's 312 wheat beer with the crab cakes. Like a lot of diners, however, I passed on the Blandford Fly. A substitute was grabbed from the tables downstairs: Adnams Tally-Ho, a strong and sticky winter ale of 7.2% ABV. It hits all the right caramel and plum notes and is well worth laying in for the season.

Before dessert there were awards, hosted by last year's top writer Pete Brown, with Mark Dredge taking the tankard for online communication once again -- well done Mark. The more bibliocentric labours of Messrs Avery and Tierney-Jones also garnered silverware for them, with Simon Jenkins of the Yorkshire Evening Post claiming the top gong overall. People began drifting away around midnight and the staff stacked the chairs around me, Zak Avery, Kristy McCready and Tim Hampson in a not-very-subtle GTFO-of-our-function-room sort of way. A final palate-cleansing Budvar stolen from Adrian Tierney-Jones and it was off to bed for me.

The next morning was cold and clear and started with the full English. A bit of Christmas shopping around Covent Garden was punctuated by staring in pub windows for anything interesting on tap. A clip in The White Lion caught my eye: current Champion Beer of Britain Castle Rock Harvest Pale Ale. I nipped in for a swift pre-noon half. It's a brilliant golden hue, served beautifully clear in wonderful condition. Worry from a slightly soapy nose was short-lived, overwhelmed by a delicious sherbet lemon bittersweet flavour. It's light and fantastically refreshing. Best beer in Britain? Yeah, maybe.

The penultimate leg of my journey had me striking westward to the well-heeled neighbourhood of Parson's Green and the legendary White Horse Inn. A mecca for beer lovers at any time, last weekend the enormous rangy boozer was hosting an Old Ale festival with 40-odd old ales, strong ales, barley wines and imperial stouts on handpump around the various bars, plus stillage in the back room. I had about two hours to get stuck in, in the company once more of the Hardknotts, Glyn from The Rake and Jeff Pickthall. When you find yourself curtly dismissing taps dispensing Yeti, Gonzo and cask Fuller's London Porter, the phrase is "spoiled for choice".

Harvey's were well represented and are one of my consistently favourite English breweries. With such a range of rarities on tap it was possibly gauche of me to opt for their common-or-garden Sussex Old Ale, but I'm glad I did. This murky dark red beer is deliciously sinkable, offering up delicate spices and exotic sandalwood as it goes. The description of Bonfire Boy as "smoky" gave it instant appeal, and it came with the Rabidbarfly seal of approval, so I went straight for it. Smoke, yes, but also lots of sticky sweetness and a biting bitterness at the end: a lot like drinking a toffee apple. Harvey's Imperial Stout wasn't my first of the day, but it was a big surprise: it's shockingly sweet and fruity like rancid strawberries or raspberry balsamic vinegar. Dave identified a lambic woodiness to it, but I still don't know if this is how it's supposed to taste. I did get used to it, and quite enjoyed it after a bit. It was just... odd.

I only had a sip from Dave's Meantime Russian Imperial Stout and wasn't impressed. It was aged in rum casks, quite possibly before the rum was taken out as the flavour is all rum and no beer. But at least it had character, which is more than can be said for the dry, astringent, but otherwise dull Sharp's Massive or the watery and vaguely tannic Otley Not So Old Ale.

Champion beer of the day for me was probably Thornbridge's Murmansk Baltic porter. At first sip it's dry with bags of dark roasted grains but underneath there's a lovely treacley alcoholic warmth, with the green hops bringing up the rear and providing a beautifully rounded finish. Delish.

Before saying my goodbyes and heading for Heathrow, there was the opportunity to taste Pit Stop's The Hop which was being passed around by some friendly beer geeks who had brought it in. This 8% ABV IPA from Oxfordshire lays claim to the dubious title of world's bitterest beer, lab-certified at 323 IBUs. It's a cloudy pale orange, rather flat, and as immensely pithy and oily as you might expect. As a shot, it's quite an interesting experience, but it's not something anyone sane will want to sit over a glass of.

And so to the airport. Usual drill: up to the Skylark where there was plenty of interest on tap but only time for one. I chose Mr G's, brewed at Everard's by Ian Ramsey of Auckland brewery Galbraith's. It's a simple and tasty brown ale with substantial malt heft for something of only 3.7% ABV and a rich chocolate heart. Then on the far side of security I stuck my nose in to The Tin Goose, delighted to see they've improved the draught beer selection quite a bit, though not enough to make me choose anything other than my usual: a deliciously crisp pint of Adnam's Bitter, followed by a sprint for the gate.

And that's me done with England for, oh, about four weeks until I'm back for Christmas in Hertfordshire. It was great catching up with so many of the UK beer folk, and especially great to meet some new ones. It looks to me like the Guild is fulfilling its social remit perfectly -- special thanks to the organisers and sponsors for putting it all together.

Czech Coors says hop

I happened across some Žatec lager in Redmond's the other week. It is, it seems, the genuine article: brewed in the brewery of the same name in the town of the same name with the hop of the same name (though known more commonly in English as Saaz). But unlike the usual imported pils, the label copy is all in English: if the good citizens of Žatec get to see any of it, it won't have this label on. The small print says it's imported by Coors UK, seemingly intended exclusively for the British market. Could be it's then independently imported to Ireland, or else it's part of the new and growing Coors operation here.
(pssst, Coors Ireland: any chance you could squeeze a case or two of White Shield onto the truck next to the Carling and Caffrey's? Just asking.)

The large print on the label, after spraffing on typically about pure this and finest that, claims the beer is brewed "with no additives or artificial carbonation". What?! Are they actually claiming that this clear golden pils is bottle conditioned? Or was somebody just pasting from the Big Book of Bland Beer Label Text that all the macros use. I dunno. It's odd either way.

I suppose I should say something about the beer, then. It's nice. Mostly dry and slightly bitter on the finish -- certainly not loaded with grassy Saaz as the name might imply. It's light and sessionable, though I'm glad it came out of my beer fridge at 10°C as any colder and the flavour would have vanished completely.

In short it's a decent drinking pils, one step above cooking lager, but not a huge one. You'd be better off with something cheap where the can has text in twelve languages.

Stone are nice

Thanks to Aer Lingus rescheduling my flight it was 1.30 by the time I got to the Great British Beer Festival on Tuesday, and the trade session was well under way. My fellow Irish Craft Brewer members had established Camp Ireland near Bières Sans Frontières and had already lured Ally (An American Alewife In London) into their midst. By the time I arrived, Knit Along With Bionic Laura was already in full swing.

I don't know if it was just because there was no Lost Abbey or Dogfish Head on cask, but I got the impression that the beer list was rather less geek-intensive compared to last year. Topping my hitlist were the beers from Stone: a brewery that has built itself a reputation of being hoppier-than-thou in a most immodest fashion. Barry had given a couple of them a bit of a pasting recently so I was dying to find out what the truth of the matter was. First up was Levitation, a pale ale with an uncharacteristic 4.4% ABV. The aroma is pungently hoppy, but the flavour is actually quite balanced, with a gentle sherbety character on a smooth body. This combination of big hops and big body made it extra hard to believe how low in alcohol it was: this beer does a very convincing impression of an 8% west coast thumper.

Next up was Stone IPA, the only one that Barry also tried and the only one he enjoyed. I enjoyed it too. It lures you in with quite a cute and fluffy hop aroma and after the first sip I was waiting for the bang of acid harshness. But it never came: it continues on this easy-going fruity note and it's only on burping (is there a more connoisseury word for this?) that the raw bitterness comes out. I was charmed.

Last of this lot was bottled Ruination, a beer which makes massive claims on the label about how much of a hop-monster it is. (Actually, I just looked, and "massive hop monster" really is the brewery's preferred description.) It's a clear pale yellow and at 7.7% ABV is inching toward palate-pounder territory. It certainly has quite a big chewy body with toffee malty undertones, but once again the hops sitting on top are quite balanced and not in the least bit harsh or difficult. In fact, I'm not even sure I'd go so far as to describe this 100+ IBU beer as "bitter". Fruity and hoppy yes, but bitter I dunno. It was the last beer I had before hitting the road so it is perfectly possible my palate was utterly shot to hell by then, but the point is I loved this beer and will be looking out for it, and other Stones, when I can.

Stone claim to be the demons of American craft brewing, but they're pussycats really, and all the better for it.

Only one other beer was a non-negotiable must-have: Schlenkerla Urbock. I've been looking forward to this since I first tried the Märzen. "It tastes a lot like Schlenkerla" said Boak, tasting it blind. And she's right, it does, which is why it's brilliant. Identical hamminess and just a slightly heavier body to it. With Märzen on weeknights, this is the Schlenkerla for Friday evening. In my Bamburg fantasy anyway.

When I went along to the bookstore to gawk at the captive Pete Brown which CAMRA had on display there, he told me I should wean myself off Schlenkerla. He even wrote it in my copy of Hops & Glory (great book; you should read it), suggesting Worthington's White Shield as an alternative. I've never had this oh-so-English IPA so, after leaving Pete to be taunted by his captors some more, Thom and I hit the bottled beer bar. Again, this could be palate-fatigue, but I found White Shield to be very much a malt-driven ale: rich and full and warming. The bitterness is a sideshow to this and the whole experience had me wondering how suitable it would be in a hot climate as opposed to beside a log fire in the depths of winter. I think I'll have to come back to White Shield, if I ever see it again. Pete seems determined to ensure we all will.

I don't have much else to say on the pale ale front: Moor's Revival, courtesy of Boak, was a bit thin and worty despite having a pleasant aroma. I was little more impressed with Thornbridge Kipling. The promised Pacific hops are there, lending a tasty grapefruit character, but not enough: my overall impression was of a grainy porridgey beer lacking in body, hoppy oomph and warming malts. It got better further down the glass but it just didn't hit the spot for me. My pontifications on Thornbridge being Britain's most over-rated brewery garnered incredulous looks, but I'll say it again here regardless. Flame away.

I was later leaving than I intended, sprinting out of Earls Court at 6.40. The usual drill at Heathrow: checking if my flight was on time; being annoyed that it was; then, with a whole half-hour to take-off, sprinting up to Wetherspoons to see if there's anything on that takes my fancy. I threw down a half of Bath Spa, finding the blonde a bit dry and musty, before dashing (nonchalantly, of course) through security and flopping into my seat with just enough time to throw a disappointed look at the final boarding passenger behind me, whom I'd elbowed out of my way at the gate.

I'll cover the darker beers tomorrow, but for the moment just a big wave to all the Internet beer folks I met, and especially to those like Barm and Woolpack Dave with whom I didn't take the time to have a proper chat. Another time, in more conducive surroundings, I hope.

And to those whose ear I bent probably a bit too much over the course of the afternoon, I can only apologise. I had travelled to London for some erudite and thought-provoking conversation on the finer points of the contemporary beer scene in Britain and beyond. You can judge for yourself how that went:
See you next year!