Bridging the gap

I'm hedging my bets with Thornbridge today: two IPAs from two different aspects of IPA culture.

To begin, a bottle of Shelby, created to tie in with the Peaky Blinders TV series and meant to taste like IPA did in Birmingham in 1919. It's clear, so is at least like IPA was in 2010. The red-gold Lucozade hue is attractive though its head retention is poor. The flavour is quite plain, being very malt-driven and sweet, showing orange zest, spongecake and golden syrup, more like something that came out of an interwar baking supplies cupboard than a brewery. It is nicely clean and crisp, though, and if it weren't for the high carbonation and a slightly overdone ABV of 5%, would be tasty and sessionable. As-is, it's just OK. By 1919 IPA was in need of a shake-up.

Step forward Jamestown. This is in the New England sub-style and an immediate point of difference is the abundant suds on top. There's a little clarity in the body -- hazy and translucent like a witbier rather than full-on custard. The aroma is mild. I got a waft of garlic when I popped the can but not much once it was in the glass. No fireworks in the flavour either, though a little fire: a definite warmth from 5.9% ABV. The savoury side is a hint of freshly chopped scallion but more prominent is a sweeter orange and lemon squash effect, summery and refreshing, but again with a strength that slows down the drinking of it.

These two don't have much in common, other than an understated quality, designed presumably for mass appeal. I enjoyed both without being especially excited by either. If nothing else it was an interesting exercise in how useless the term "IPA" is, even when applied by a single brewery. Happy IPA Day.

Needs less hops

Not long after I posted a much-delayed review of the Finnish Mosaic Lager that appeared randomly in Lidl, another lager from the same brewery arrived. This time it's a half-litre can and the lager is a Black Lager. Sign me up!

It pours like a stout, coming out thick and looking shiny and purest black in the glass, topped by a dense tan-coloured head. The label subtitles it as an "American schwarz" and the aroma makes it clear what that's supposed to mean, offering a blast of pine and grapefruit. The texture is as thick as I was expecting though it's still lager-clean, with no warm fermentation features. On the downside there's very little of what makes schwarzbier worthwhile; that dry roasted crispness flashes only briefly in the finish. The flavour is dominated by those piney C-hops, all oily and resinous. It ends up like a black IPA, to which I have no objection, but isn't what I was in the mood for when I opened the can.

I guess I should be glad when a supermarket cheapie has as much flavour punch as this does, and it's not at all a bad beer. That doesn't stop me feeling gypped by a schwarzbier that never was.

Two of your five a day

Just in time for the summer, such as it was, two spin-offs from Stiegl's ever-popular Grapefruit Radler arrived on these shores. Both are 2% ABV and may be acquired for a very reasonable €2.50 per half-litre can.

I wouldn't have put raspberry down as a suitable candidate fruit for radler, but here anyway is Stiegl Radler Himbeere. It's a lurid shade of red, topped with a shock of electric pink foam. It looks like it's going to be dense, sweet and not very refreshing. The aroma too is rather sticky and sickly, smelling like jam, with the sugar up front and a bite of woody raspberry seed towards the end. And while it is sweet it's not sticky, managing to be acceptably light-bodied. The flavour doesn't live up to the realistic aroma, being very syrupy, like ice cream sauce. It's not laid on excessively thickly but at the same time there are no other complexities or points of interest. Overall this is a bit dull and misses out on being properly refreshing, a basic competency for a radler. There's a reason these are normally made using citrus fruits.

That means I should score a better result from Stiegl Radler Zitrone, the lemon one. It smells gorgeous: bright and fresh and cool, like an ice pop or sorbet. The flavour is no more real-tasting than the raspberry version, but is much more enjoyable, and packed with zest. Rather than actual lemons I get high-end lemonade, meringue pie filling, curd and a bitterer squeeze of Jif. This one also carries a decently full body but manages to be properly thirst-quenching and reviving too. The half-litre slipped back with ease.

Stupidly I didn't have a Grapefruit to hand so I could do a real-time ranking, but I think the original remains the best of the series. Zitrone isn't far behind, however, and compares very favourably with the Heineken and Amstel radlers I guzzle with gusto when in the Netherlands. I'll definitely be drinking more of it.

One and a half fish

Lervig has retained its series of retro-branded beers even as it succumbed to the weird names and abstract art that nordic brewing has now gifted to the world. Lucky Jack is the one I'd regard as the flagship. I don't know if today's first pair are newer but I hadn't seen them in these parts until this year.

We begin with a Berliner weisse called Sour Suzy. It's the pure clear golden colour of a Riesling, and a smidge strong for a straightforward one of these at 4% ABV. Suzy isn't very sour. There's a briney bite, followed by a green-apple acidity. That's really as tart as it gets. Behind this there's crisp wheaty grain and a wisp of lemon-candy hops. It's all very simple, refreshing and tasty, though the lack of carbonation lets it down: towards the end I began to find it a little syrupy and I think that could be offset with a bit more fizz. I enjoyed its unfussy and ungimmicky stylings nonetheless.

Accompanying Suzy out of my fridge is Hoppy Joe, a 4.7% ABV American-style red ale. I'm assuming it's what normal beer nerds would describe as an American amber: it's certainly amber coloured, with a little bit of a haze through it. The aroma should be a strong point but I got very little of that. Has Joe skimped on the hoppiness? Kind of. There's not much hop flavour but the bitterness is pleasantly assertive, placing a grassy bite next to the toffee and marzipan malt. The relatively low strength means that the malt fades quickly, leaving that tangy bitterness on the palate a little longer. This fine but quite basic, even for a red ale.

Fine but basic describes both of these, actually. They're worthy additions to the off licence's 4-for-€10, adding variety to all the pale ales on offer. If current beer fashion isn't your thing, here are some decent alternatives.

Of course it was only a matter of time before the design approaches leaked into each other, and the result is Lucky Jack Extra Hard, an amber-coloured IPA of 6% ABV. I found the original 4.7% ABV Jack a little vapid when I first tried it in 2015. This isn't that. It's thick, and dank and bitter in a very '90s west-coast sort of way, complete with a buzz of pine on the end. Unfortunately it lacks the high notes to back all of this up: none of the zesty freshness that tends to work well in parallel. The texture is probably its best feature, which is not a good look for an IPA. It's OK, but I really expected more, and I can't find any parallels with the other Jack.

We move on to a session IPA of 4% ABV called House Party. The aroma certainly brings the party vibe: a loud explosion of mango, mandarin and pineapple, with even a little warmth -- unexpected given the strength. The body is nicely full, though entirely believable; the only other sign of the low ABV is a quick finish of the flavour. What's there is good while it lasts, however: freshly fruity, unsurprisingly, with thirst-quenching orange juice, some spiced and floral bergamot and a waft of resinous dankness. All solid IPA complexities with very little sign of compromise. There is a slight dry and chalky effect near the end which I didn't care for, reminding me of the aspirin note that often comes with modern alcohol-free beers. Overall, though, it's very decent: interesting while also refreshing and sessionable.

From there the ABV jumps to 7.5% ABV for Bad Haircut, another early refugee from the Boxtravaganza collection. It's a DDH hazy job with a powerful aroma of ripe apricot and eye-watering satsuma zest. Though the ABV is low for a double IPA it has the body of something several points up the scale. I note as an aside that oats do not feature among the ingredients. It feels thick and custardy, with a mild vanilla buzz  adding to that effect; otherwise the double act of stonefruit and citrus rules supreme. This beer gives an initial impression of being quite extreme but quickly settles down into something that passes for balance in a hazy hop-saturated DIPA. While not exciting, it's not off-kilter either, and frankly I'm glad of that. Trust Lervig to bring some nordic precision to the chaotic style.

Somehow I don't have a review of the Lervig staple imperial stout Konrad's here yet. I'm certain I've drank it in UnderDog where it's a regular but for some reason have never stopped to make notes on it. When I realised this I picked up a can to give it the proper once-over. 10.2% is the ABV and it's the dark brown of a black coffee. It tastes quite coffeeish too, thick and bitter, like the tarry sludge at the bottom of the machine. There's a little bit of fruit for balance -- I get cherry in particular -- and a sizeable chunk of high-cocoa dark chocolate. Mint humbugs and liquorice also feature, to an extent. This is very much a no-nonsense sort of imperial stout, going big on roast and bitterness while avoiding all gimmicks.

Gimmicks you say? We finish on another imperial stout, the whopper 14% ABV Cheap Lunch, brewed with peanut butter and the assistance of Manchester's Track Brewing. Cheap it ain't, at €7.75 per can. The aroma is pure pastry; not peanut butter specifically, but chocolate cake with masses of cream and a cup of strong coffee steaming on the side. There's a crunch of peanut in the flavour, though sweet enough to be mistakable for pecan. The coffee remains, bringing a bitter balancing roast, while the heat quotient is much lower than might be expected. It is hella sticky, though, and I'm glad I split the can, for reasons other than the cost. Still, it's fun and not overdone, as pastry stout should be.

It took me a smidge over four months to put that lot together. Whatever impression of Lervig it leaves you with, the brewery can't be faulted for adding variety to the beer drinkers' diet. If their last beer wasn't to your taste, wait five minutes for the next one.

Wistful drinking

With international travel off the cards for the next while, I've found myself buying beers from places I wish I could go. Today it's Barcelona, and two from Garage Beer.

The first is their contribution to the worldwide charitable project set up by Other Half in New York: All Together. It's an IPA at 6.5% ABV and a sunny hazy orange colour with lots of foam on top. The aroma is that of a citrus icepop; cool lemon and lime beats, though more sweet than bitter. It's very juicy to taste, a real fresh-squeezed OJ effect of the sort many IPAs promise but few deliver. That does get tempered by a little savoury garlic and a chalky dryness in the finish. Overall, though, it's very enjoyable, avoiding the hot, cloying and dreggy pitfalls that beset the style. If you've been confused by the haze craze, this is a beer to show what it's supposed to be about.

To follow that, with high hopes, the imperial stout Circus Tears, a whopper at 11% ABV. Maybe it's how I've been conditioned to mega-stouts lately but there's a bang of pastry off the aroma: black forest gateau, tiramisu and raspberry coulis all present to my nostrils. Looking it up, it's nothing more involved than pistachios and vanilla, that's all. And yes, it's very sweet on the palate -- clove rock is the first impression, then a shot of espresso and some soft chewy toffee. The texture is thick but it's not hot, and definitely not difficult to drink. It finishes clean with just a smear of chocolate residue, and then the clove kicks in again down below, warming the throat and stomach like a linctus. It's probably much better suited as a winter beer but I still enjoyed it late on a summer's evening. Not sure that would still be true if I'd attempted a whole can by myself, however.

Two quality beers here, no question. I preferred the New England IPA to the imperial stout, which is an odd thing for me to say. I guess one of the two styles presented here had a lower bar to clear.

Wild about something

Two beers from De Brabandere today, their Brewmaster's Selection. As with their Petrus series, there's a feel of something primarily made for the export market.

Wild Tripel Hop is first up. The lengthy description tells us this is "an audacious combination of craftsmanship and experience" and that it's based on Petrus Tripel, hopped with Amarillo and Cascade, and infused with something sour from the brewery's foeders. It all sounds a bit involved. Something had to give and unfortunately it's the hops. This does taste like a tripel -- apricots and alcohol -- and there's a sour tang too, a bit of a brash one and slightly vinegary. A peppery spice on top adds an additional complexity. Overall though it's a lot less audacious than it claims. Messing around with this tripel adds nothing positive.

So I was a bit apprehensive coming to Wild Quadrupel. At least there's no silliness with hops this time, though it is a quadrupel with sour beer blended in. That can't have watered it down very much because it retains a stonking ABV of 10.5%. Mind you, it says on the label that a full 25% of it is foederbeer but it's barely sour at all, showing just a tiny and modest little twang, no more than you'd get from a sour cherry. What's left? A lovely rich mix of milk chocolate, raisins and plum pudding. It's better than most quadrupels, hiding the alcohol well and coming across smooth and balanced. There's a dry roasted bite on the finish which is unusal but welcome. The roasted barley is "peeled" according to the label -- I don't know what that means, and it sounds labour-intensive, but it works. Start peeling your barley, breweries.

I guess it's good that experiments like this are happening. In this case, the lacklustre results of one were more than made up for in the excellence of the other.

Birra a casa

I had been impressed by the salty Cristalli di Sale lager from Heineken that I'd found on last summer's trip to northern Italy. When I saw the flagship of the same brand, Messina, on sale in Dublin I snapped it up to see if I could use it to recreate a sunny Italian afternoon. It didn't take long for the opportunity to present itself.

It looks beautiful in the glass: a rich dark gold, topped with a handsome pillar of pure white foam, the way beer looks in classic adverts. The mouthfeel is thick, much thicker than 4.7% ABV would suggest. With the density comes a heavy malt sweetness: a flavour full of treacle and cereal, with a little banana and only the faintest hop balance; a dry mineral bite rather than actual bitterness.

Did it work as a transport to another realm? Yes -- and as a reminder that other realms are chock full of bad lager. This one is too sweet and cloying to be properly refreshing. I can see myself drinking one on a sunlit terrazzo, but also vowing thereafter to never touch it again.