Noli temere

A few cans from the Heaney Farmhouse Brewery have leaked down to the south in recent weeks. My only previous experience with the Bellaghy brewer was a positive one, back in November, on draught. Surely the cans would be nothing to be afraid of. When I took them from the fridge I was surprised and pleased to discover that two of the three were dark styles. That hardly ever happens.

Let's get the IPA out of the way first. Digital Leash isn't a very farmhouse name, and IPA dry-hopped with Galaxy and Amarillo not a typically farmhouse product, but howanever. It's 6% ABV, a sunny yellow colour with lots of haze and has the soft texture of the New England style. The flavour is something else though. In place of vanilla or garlic there's a strong citrus pith, a rasp of chalky dryness and some sharp dregs on the finish. The aroma is funky, sweaty and maybe a little cheesy too. It all takes a bit of getting used to but adds up to something much better than the sum of its parts. The other features are a mere sideshow to those pithy hops, and the assertive hit of lemon and bergamot is invigorating and refreshing. This is a beer best enjoyed on the superficial level, without going into too much detail on what makes it tick, as I've just done.

Porter next, one called Long Shadows, brewed as a winter special last year. From the pour I would nearly swear it's nitrogenated: no bubbles at first, then a rush of them towards the end, forming a thick tan-coloured pillow. The beer beneath is ruby-garnet rather than black. The aroma is a mix of dark chocolate and soot. I think we're going old-school here. The flavour is sweeter, however. In the middle there's cocoa and cookies with a little floral rosewater. This is flanked by bitterness: the dark chocolate going in, and an English hop bitterness on the finish, bringing green veg and zinc. Again, this beer works best outside of the analysis. It's just a good sinking porter, satisfyingly chewy at 6% ABV and well balanced by being restrained on the sweetness while just bitter enough. It may have been brewed for winter nights but worked great on a sunny summery afternoon outside.

To conclude, then: I Can See The Stars, an imperial stout in collaboration with Boundary. They offer 11% ABV and a four hour boil to claim the proper credentials here. A nip bottle might have been more appropriate than a 440ml can. It's very thick, something immediately obvious from the pour. A head the waxen yellow of corpse flesh swells up as it pours. The aroma is thick and sugary, curling up from what smells like a pit of molasses and treacle. The mouthfeel bears that out: very unctuous indeed. Sugar isn't to the fore in the taste. I get a meaty umami first and then it turns sweet -- an olde worlde candy store of clove rock, humbugs and liquorice sticks with a coating of melty milk chocolate. There's a bitter tang on the finish, but I wanted more of that. It's just a little too sweet and sticky for me. I'll be basic and suggest that some time ageing in spirit barrels might be good for this, but really I'd just prefer it dried out a little.

Beer of the set is definitely that porter, but for a new brewery Heaney really has its game together: I detected no technical flaws in any of this. That farmhouse is one tight ship.

Surprise Vocation

My little local Tesco serves me well for the basics. Emergency Manislav and 4-for-€10 Leann Folláin and I consider my needs met. It was very surprising, then, to find a couple of high-end Yorkshire IPAs warming themselves on the ambient shelves, both canned less than a month previous. It wasn't beer shopping, it was a rescue mission.

First up, a splash of summer colour on a collaboration can between Vocation and Marble. Hop, Skip & Juice "hazy pale ale" nails its style credentials to the mast. If you don't get full New England vibes from this you deserve a refund, is the implication. It looks correct: the lemon-curd yellow of such beers, regardless of their strength -- this one a modest 5.7% ABV. It smells of custard vanilla first, backed by a sharper mix of lime jelly and fresh garlic. Again, bang in the centre of those inexplicable style parameters. The flavour, let it be noted, is not a mess. It's certainly dessertish: that mix of sweetness and lemon giving it an overarching meringue pie effect, with the garlic entering the picture as a savoury twang on the end; a two-course meal in reverse. But it's light, undemanding and fluffily textured, with none of the unpleasant extreme aspects that beers like this show too often. I wouldn't go so far as to call it "juicy", though. There's too much fuzz on the tongue for that. I guess it's a supermarket take on New England pale ale, and if that means it's balanced and accessible then I will absolutely take that, and commend it to you.

The ABV goes up to 7.2% for Love & Hate, badged as a New England IPA and following Vocation's standard branding and binomial nomenclature. Still hazy yellow, though it does look denser and more opaque than the previous. Here the garlic dominates the aroma and there's a worrying heat in the nostrils too. Is this the style reverting to its usual naughty ways? Yes. Yes it it. A rub of raw garlic across the palate, a scorch of hard alcohol and then a spike of dreggy yeast bite in the finish. This is both extreme and entirely normal for modern IPA fashion, and I despair for anyone who considers this a good beer or somehow progress. I've had worse, for sure, but here's a deliberately poor and unfinished-tasting beer getting into Tesco Express, where innocent civilians might find it. Hopefully the €4.40 price tag will keep them away when Manislav, Leann Folláin and Francis' Big Bangin' IPA are all on the same shelf and better value in every sense. Not forgetting the Hop, Skip & Juice too. Let's pray that punters are drawn to the colourful can first.

Moaning about fashion aside, a shout-out to the Tesco operative who decided that my neighbourhood store was worthy of these. There's a certain optimism -- especially when commerce is so heavily emphasising The Essentials -- in taking a chance on high-risk beer trends. Throw us another couple of randomers and I'll sure as hell buy them.

Spaghetti lambic

Beershop Venezia is a sparsely stocked little boutique on a heavily trafficked street near the Rialto bridge in Venice. The wares are expensive and nothing really grabbed me from perusing the shelves. At the same time it would have felt wrong to leave empty-handed so I ended up dropping €15 on this half litre of Italian sour beer, Lambiclegni, by Birrificio Oldo.

Its claim to be "lambic style" is what intrigued me. How faithful to the uniquely Belgian brewing vernacular would it be, assuming that the method of spontaneous fermentation and barrel-ageing was followed? The first impression was: not very. It poured out almost completely flat, looking like a still cider in the glass. The nose has a certain oaky spice, but muted, presumably because there's no fizz pushing it up. The cider comparisons continue in the flavour: it's smooth and tannic with a sour pinch but missing the nitre and saltpetre that, for me, is the key attribute of lambic. The flatness again makes it seem rather lifeless and there's also a slightly unpleasant gastric twang in the finish.

Following the method won't necessarily get you a lambic, then. I'm not a subscriber to the notion that the Senne valley has a unique biome which ensures lambic can only be brewed there. Really what we taste when we drink good lambic is the skill of the brewer, as much in the maturation and blending as in the production. That's what missing from this Italian attempt. That, and carbonation.

Rooski brewskis

Today's first beer is something of a Russian invasion of Germany: a "Helles Schankbier" from Carlsberg-owned Baltika in St. Petersburg, called Жигулевское (Zhigulyovskoye). I assume it's named after the majestic mountains rather than the boxy Soviet motorcar.

It's darker than one might expect from a Helles: a golden amber rather than yellow. The aroma is very pleasant: a fresh light meadowy quality, all authentic noble hops but done gently. I found the texture quite watery, causing me to check the strength. Russians aren't likely to be happy with the 4% ABV here; turns out schankbier was a legally mandated beer style in Germany until 1993, an equivalent to the sessionable Czech výčepní, I guess. This one further unravels on tasting. The hops are still noble but they take on a plasticky tang, finishing on a weird detergent or disinfectant note. It's not powerful enough to be actively unpleasant, but apart from the faux amis aroma this is quite a bland affair. Presumably there are Russians resident in Ireland who desperately miss this taste of the motherland. I can't imagine any other reason Polonez on Mary Street would stock it.

That did pique my interest in Russian beers (other than Baltika) available in Ireland. I was next in Polonez Rathmines where I picked up another few. Three Hills from Moscow Brewing caught my attention with its cutesy handled 450ml bottle. It's a pale ale of 4.9% ABV, a Lucozade-amber colour in the glass. The head retention isn't up to much. It smells a little sweet and grainy, being quite lager-like in that; bock in particular. The flavour is definitely an ale, however. It's full-bodied and sweet, with a considerable dose of crystal malt. The hops add a mere tang rather than real bitterness, and a certain candy-chew sweetness which is not currently in vogue but reminds me of American pale ales from a decade ago. It worked then and it still works now. The picture gets its finishing touch from a dry tannic quality, bringing in a certain English-bitter element and turning what might be quite a sticky beer into something more refreshing and drinkable. I don't know that I'd go running back to this, but I enjoyed the experience and will be looking out for what else comes in the adorable flask.

OK fine, I'm a sucker for weird bottles. Look at this leggy beauty. Mind you, I wish Moscow Brewing didn't make them from green glass as I got a waft of skunking when I popped the cap on Хамовники Венское (Chamovniki Vienna), a Vienna lager. It looks like Vienna lager as I understand the style: a clear golden-russet colour. But while it looks rich, and feels nicely rounded in the mouth, it's very bland to taste. I was looking for that lovely bread-and-biscuits malt characteristic, and while there's a certain amount of that here it's very muted. My bottle was fairly fresh too -- less than five months, which shouldn't cause much of a change in a beer like this. A dry crispness echoes in the finish, and a hint of celery-like noble hops. I did my best to find the good parts, but this misses the mark right in the centre where it counts. I shouldn't have to search for flavour in a Vienna lager. Give it a miss.

The final Moscow Brewing offering is a bit of a mystery. There's no non-Russian text at all on the label of Эль Мохнатый Шмель (Mochnaty Shmel ale) but I guessed it might be a honey beer. It's not though. Turns out the name means "Shaggy Bumblebee" and it's broadly an American-style pale ale, hopped with Citra and Cascade and 5% ABV. Still at least we're back in half-litre bottles made of brown glass.

Expectations of American hop features were dashed quite rapidly. There's no zing here, and virtually no bitterness. It tastes very similar to the Three Hills above, actually: the same sort of candy malt balanced by dry tannin. It's maybe a little more floral in the finish, enhancing the overall English effect. While fine, easy drinking and undemanding, I felt I had already had this beer today and didn't need another.

The most enjoyable part of all this was buying them in the first place: Polonez really helps scratch my itch for shopping in foreign supermarkets. Expect more random picks from points east soon.

Cross my can with silver

Three from London brewer Gipsy Hill today, all under the broad pale ale umbrella.

First out is Bandit, gluten-free and a classically English 3.8% ABV. It doesn't look like a cask bitter, mind, or at least not a good one, being an unhealthy hazy shade of medium yellow. The aroma is fun: a spritzy lemon zest. There's plenty of substance given the modest strength, not thick by any means but certainly not watery. The fresh citrus I got from the aroma is even more prominent on tasting: a lovely zesty kick with plenty of background sweetness; lemon drizzle cake and fizzy vitamin tablet. The bitter side goes a little overboard towards the end, turning to a slightly harsh metallic tang, but that's mercifully brief. A surprise oily dankness provides the unexpected twist ending. This is cheery, sunny fun -- mouth watering and thirst quenching -- but there's a depth and complexity too. My three-can session was off to an auspicious start.

Ranger is altogether more traditional, though stronger at 4.2% ABV. It's completely clear, for one thing: a pale yellow shade, like a northern bitter. It tastes along those lines too -- quite a harsh and dry rasp. Lemon is again the dominant feature but nowhere near as cuddly as the Bandit, lacking the malt backing. There's no doubting the freshness and boldness of the flavour, however it's quite severe, the pith and rind fading to celery salt and crepe paper: not your classic IPA flavours. This has a certain sharp charm, and is not a million miles from English classics like Landlord. Still, I wanted something cheerier from the little can.

We finish up on the cockily-named Baller IPA, though the ABV goes no higher than 5.4%. There is, in fairness, some swagger to the aroma: a waft of mango and satsuma that put a smile on my face. It gets more complex on tasting: that juiciness is present but mostly arrives late on; before it there's a weedy oiliness, a pinch of lime and a thoroughly modern New Englandish vanilla. It all adds up to something very tasty: the good bits of modern IPA flavour with a nod to the old school as well, and not too strong either.

Two very decent beers out of three here. I would happily spend a summer's afternoon alternating between Bandit and Baller. There's a lot to enjoy in that pair.

Bee what you want to bee

I'm not sure these even are beers. They don't claim to be. Beekon Batches self-describes its products as "honey refresher" and doesn't list ingredients. It is made in a brewery, however: the Pearse Lyons in Drogheda, and I detect a bit of malt involvement, so close enough.

Classic makes it very clear that they're not going for the beer market. It pours a clear autumnal golden with a busy sparkle and no head, making me immediately think the creators have a champagne substitute in mind. The aroma is no more intense than champagne and has a similar note of light oak and white toast. The honey is past this, in the centre of the flavour, giving quite an intense sweetness, like honeycomb candy. It's a bit sticky but does sterling work shoring up the mouthfeel and preventing it seeming watery. Is there a hint of apple in there? Could it be a cider? It got stickier as it warms, and I suspect it's really designed to be served on ice and doesn't work well without it. This is fine as it is, but a bit too far from actual beer for me to make up my mind about it either way.

I did think it might be improved by some spicing so was optimistic about the companion piece, Ginger & Lime. This one is hazy, the colour of a wheat beer. The additional flavouring all seems to have been in syrup form, so adds to the sweetness instead of countering it. There's a faint twang of sour-candy lime, like the corner-cuttingest Long Island Ice Tea, while the ginger is no higher than ginger-biscuit levels. The appley/honeyish centre is muted, but definitely still detectable. Again, pitched more at the Crabbie's drinker than the beer over-thinker, but this one seems even more artificial than the previous.

Stick with the Classic, if you absolutely must.

The Blues are calling

It's been a few weeks since any American beer has featured on these pages, so here's a selection from Oskar Blues that has been sitting in the drafts folder, patiently awaiting its turn.

We'll start at the start with One-y, a sort of diet IPA, promising an even 100 calories. It looks like a slimmers' beer too, pouring a watery yellow with a sickly looking haze and the thinnest of heads. You need to take a big huff to get any aroma from it -- there's just a faint dankness echoing from the deep. Unimpressive so far, but the foretaste is nice: a fresh combination of classic American hop flavours like grapefruit, lemon, pine and weed. Unfortuntely there's no malt substance to carry these forward and it all fades out quickly, leaving just a sad wateriness behind. It's very unsatisfying to drink, and frustrating because the constituent parts would work very well together in a bigger beer. The brewery may proffer the excuse that it's only 4% ABV, which is nothing in American terms, but I know plenty of British brewers who can make American hops absolutely sing at that sort of strength. No excuses.

The next step up the strength ladder is Rosé for Daze, 6% ABV and promising slight tartness with hibiscus and prickly pear. It really does look like a rosé wine: not pink pink, but the rich red of polished copper. The aroma gives little away, smelling crisp and plain, like a rye cracker. Its flavour is milder than anticipated but everything is there: the tartness front and centre, melding with the sour cherry and raspberry effect I usually get; and then the silly pink-tasting prickly pear arrives late and is uncharacteristically polite, not interrupting the others. I think that a bit more flower and fruit would be welcome over the acidity, and you get poor value for your 6% ABV given it's another thin one. Still, if you don't mind your pink fruit beers being a little on the severe side there's fun to be had here.

To follow, an oddity: Death by King Cake. I was hitherto unaware of a dessert called "King Cake", let alone that it can be fatal. The given style is nothing more specific than "ale", to which has been added vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, cacao, orange peel and pecans. You'd wonder if there was room for malt and hops after all that. It's 6.5% ABV. For some reason I thought it would be dark so was surprised by the medium amber colour. Again the aroma has little to say, but the spices are definitely conspiring in there. The texture is thick and syrupy, with no immediate flavour, giving a first impression of a super-strength tramps' lager. The orange peel is probably the most prominent of the novelty flavours, then the cinnamon and chocolate. None of it is very loud, though. This tastes of alcohol more than cake; the spices an afterthought. It's inoffensive, and maybe the light touch on silliness is a point in its favour. Consider it as a slightly milder alternative to your after-dinner snifter of barley wine.

We approach top-out with Can-O-Bliss "Tropical India Pale Ale" at 7.2% ABV. It's a bright and hazy orange colour, smelling sweet and a bit sticky, like Fanta or orange travel sweet. That sweet jaffa theme continues on tasting. It's a very typical, even old-school, American IPA, bringing to mind echoes of Odell IPA and Bell's Two Hearted. Any stoners looking for something in their line will be disappointed. OK, if you take a big enough mouthful there's maybe a certain bud-like resin at the back of the palate, but you'd have to be looking for it. This one, finally, is full textured and full flavoured, tasting like the beer One-y could have been. With no gimmicks, and barely a nod to modern vanilla-and-garlic IPAs, it's unspectacular and nicely done. Well worth adding into your 4-for-€10 mix where you see it.

My last is a longtime fixture in the Oskar Blues line-up, but one I'd never tasted before, an archetype of the Americo-Belgian style Skaatch Ale: Old Chub. It's 8% ABV and a mahogany brown colour, topped with a handsome ivory-coloured head. It pours dense and it smells dense, all toffee and liquorice. They swap order in the flavour, with the bittering herbal aniseed to the fore, then burnt caramel rolling in behind. That's pretty much your lot, the contrasting elements combining into a nutty fade-out. While it's big and chewy on the palate and warming in the belly, there's no booze heat in the flavour, which is quite a deft move. The end result is smooth, mellow and easy going; verging on boring. It's the sort of strong and gentle beer you can relax into after tasting a selection of brash and loud ones, offering thick Belgian-style fun minus the fruity esters.

Quite a mix here, but the classically-constructed IPA wins the day for me.