Stretching it

Although very much a modern, playful, creative brewery, Heaney Farmhouse built its reputation, for me at least, as a producer of solidly formulated traditional styles in plain-packaged half-litre bottles with names which tell you exactly what they are. Those still exist but I'm sensing a little bit of a shift with some recent output. The minimalist style-as-name thing is still here, as is the minimalist packaging, but the styles are a smidge more adventurous. Maybe this is the midway stepping stone between the nonthreatening bottles and the cans of ginger-infused imperial pastry stout.

Exhibit A: Irish White Ale. Exotic for the mainstream drinker in Bellaghy, perhaps, but not exactly krazy kraft either. The ABV is a little on the low side at 4.8%, and it poured clear in the glass, presumably a result of being allowed settle in my fridge for a few months. The aroma is herbal and spicy, the orange peel, coriander and Belgian yeast combining to generate a loud and complex mix. Those two added ingredients divide the flavour between them: it's half a leafy savoury Thai rice dish and half a bitter citrus tang. Unsubtle, but I like the boldness. It falls down a little on texture, missing as it does the soft mouthfeel that wheat ought to provide. Overall, though, it's enjoyable. If you like witbier flavours and don't mind having them pushed at you hard, you'll appreciate how they've done this one.

The next one isn't really a proper beer style at all. Double Pale Ale? What? The can says it's 5% ABV and hazy, OK, but in the glass it's weird brownish pink colour. It doesn't look healthy. There's nothing wrong with the aroma, however, smelling bright and zingy like sherbet lemon candy. The texture is very thin, and maybe that's why they shied away from calling it an IPA; there's certainly none of the fluffy weight that normally comes with haze. There's something a bit off about the flavour too. It's mostly fine, bordering on tasty, with vitamin-C-tablet zest meeting a summery apricot and strawberry vibe. But lurking in the finish there's what starts as a chalky dry quality that turns quickly to cardboard. I think this might be oxidised. It's not what I was expecting -- I suppose the name hints at C-hop classics like Sierra Nevada Torpedo -- but I can appreciate what they've tried to do here, making something hop-forward yet accessible and low on bitterness. The execution isn't quite on the money, however.

Finally and inevitably: New England IPA. Heaney's is 5.7% ABV and the orange colour produced by breweries whose hearts aren't really in the hazy stuff but feel they have to. There's a pithy sharpness to the aroma, grapefruit and plaster dust -- not very New Englandy. The texture is somewhat soft without going full pillow, while the sweetness is more orangeade than orange juice, retaining its pointy side and bolting the fruit sweetness on, rather than integrating it. I found myself judging it on trueness to style before realising that's a daft thing to do and switching to the correct track of whether it's any good or not. And it is. There's a fun interplay between sweet, bitter, dry and savoury characteristics, with no unpleasantness. The strength and texture make it satisfyingly weighty without pushing it, or oneself, overboard. Style shmyle: this is just good beer.

And isn't that Heaney's strength, by and large? Simply good beer and no messing, even when they're messing.

Barrowside trilogy

Carlow Brewing has undertaken a bit of a refresh regarding its range and branding. I'm not sure where it's going and which if any of the existing beers are about to vanish, but I do know we now have Leann Folláin in 440ml cans and three new IPAs.

The first is very much a trend-chaser, though not a trend that Irish microbrewers have made much of: the slimmers' beer, for want of a better term. O'Hara's Lo-Cal Session IPA comes in 330ml cans, normally to be found in four-packs for €10. The can doesn't tell me how many calories are in it, which strikes me as an unusual move, though I can say it's 4% ABV. In the glass it's a pale lemon-yellow with a little haze and a freshly sharp and citric aroma. I'm getting vibes of modern northern English bitter, like Marble's Pint. There's a soft texture and an abundance of body so, like a good bitter, it doesn't taste compromised by the strength. The flavour has plenty of legs too: lemon candy, fresh spinach, oily pine and even some naughty dank resins on the finish. This is very jolly indeed and entirely suited to the four-pack format. Don't let the diet-oriented handle fool you: it's the whole package for a session IPA.

I'm not sure in which order to take the other pair. Normally I'd drink in ascending order of ABV, but the weaker here is badged as a West Coast IPA so I'm going to begin on the hefty 6.8% ABV Hazy IPA. With 51st State back in 2017, Carlow was among the first Irish breweries to present a commercial beer in the New England fashion, and they still haven't got the colour right. While most everyone else has the knack of yellow emulsions, this one is amber, and translucent rather than opaque. The label doesn't lie, though: "Juicy - Tropical - Stone Fruit" it promises and all three elements are right there in the aroma, a concentrated mix of passionfruit, guava and mango. There's a brief stumble in the foretaste where it turns savoury, opening on a dry rasp of caraway seed. Luckily the soothing tropical fruit is there behind it, here joined by a slightly citrus edge of tangerine, and a heaping helping of gullet-warming alcohol. Anyone coming to this expecting a hazy IPA like what the cool breweries make, and charge seven quid for, is in for a let-down everywhere but their wallet (this was €3). On its own terms, though, it's fine and actually rather enjoyable. Especially when that booze kicks in.

West Coast IPA should be much more in the wheelhouse of this mid-'90s veteran. It's the same sunset colour, though completely transparent, of course. The aroma was reticent, but there's pine and dank deep in there, so it gets a pass. On tasting it's surprisingly -- disturbingly -- similar to the Hazy one: the same savoury kick and boozy burn. The fruit is missing, of course, but the texture is still quite big and a little syrupy. There's none of the clean dryness I like in this style, and it's missing the fresh hop zing too, tasting rather sluggish and sweaty. Again it's OK, but it needs either a lighter body or much more generous hopping, I think. Full points for not being hazy, I guess, but as a West Coast IPA it leaves me wanting.

Who would have thought that the low-calorie offering would be the stand-out, but here it is. Dirty great pints probably aren't part of the plan, given the branding, but I would very happily indulge in some in due course.

Urban sprawl

Florida brewer Cigar City provides the beers today, and a lot of them at that, across a happily diverse range of styles.

On the lighter end, we have Paloma Gose at 4.2% ABV. This differs from the classic Leipzig recipe by dropping the coriander and, in line with modern craft takes, adding fruit -- grapefruit and lime in this case. It's a hazy orange shade in the glass, with not even a suggestion of a head on pouring. The aroma is very soft-drink-like, a Liltish citrus-meets-sugar effect. You get the soft and briny texture of a real gose, and a salt dryness that helps offset the sodapop sweetness, though only a little. This is very Lilt-tasting, leaning towards syrupy in the foretaste before a super quick finish. Of course it's meant to be thirst-quenching, and it is, but as with sugary soft drinks, the days when I could neck a few in sequence are long gone. I appreciated the childhood charm of this one but I couldn't make a habit of drinking it.

There's more fruit and more salt in Citrus Siesta, though the brewery is calling this one a golden ale. It's not golden, more a coppery amber colour, and still modest in strength at 4.5% ABV. Outdoor summer drinking is still the use-case, I guess. It smells nicely fresh and zesty, with the orange coming through strongest. Perhaps the lime would show itself on tasting. It does, but only a little: it's that concentrated, almost herbal lime-peel effect, and then merely an echo of it. The rest is very plain: a little orange cordial in the finish, but no flavour contribution from the salt, malt or hops. The texture is quite nice -- it's big-bodied and satisfying to quaff, with a honeyish feel even if the flavour isn't there. That wasn't enough to endear it to me, however. When you insist on using novelty ingredients they need to make themselves felt more than they do here.

Invasion is called a "tropical pale ale" but this one doesn't have any daft ingredients, unless you count Motueka, Galaxy, Simcoe, Pacifica and Amarillo, all of whom sound perfectly reasonable to me. A hazy orange in the glass, it smells funky and dank, with heady aromas of sandalwood and incense. The flavour is sweeter. That spicy wood thing is still there, but it's joined by a hard grapefruit bitterness and a lighter fruit zest set on a honey and biscuit malt base. That sounds busy but the texture is light so it gets away with all of it without becoming difficult. It's possible to enjoy this on the Sierra Nevada level as a tasty resinous bitter American pale ale, but it has a fun extra dimension as well that I really enjoyed.

The sole dark beer in today's set is Cubano-Style Espresso, and although it's a brown ale it's very dark indeed, almost but not quite black. The lack of a head wouldn't qualify it for porter or stout status and the rich coffee aroma certainly says it's a brown ale. It looks thin but it's not, thanks to the inclusion of lactose which, in conjunction with cacao and vanilla, gives it a milk chocolate foretaste on a creamy mouthfeel. That's nicely balanced by the coffee, which is strong and heavily roasted, bringing a grown-up bitterness to an otherwise candyshopped beer. The seesaw of sticky sweet chocolate and clean dry coffee is rather enjoyable. This is another beer with an understated complexity. It's only 5.5% ABV but is deliciously full and warming. One to come back to in winter, perhaps.

The upper echelons start with Tocobaga, a 7.2% ABV red IPA. It's not my favourite beer style and it looks downright ugly in the glass: a swampy red-brown with some disturbingly big floaty bits suspended through it. The aroma is much more attractive: Citra bringing a fresh and zesty kick, backed by a little toffee sweetness. Dirty look vs clean aroma: who wins? The look, unfortunately. There's an immediate grittiness on the first sip, accompanied by a dreggy yeast bite. The hops are in rapid pursuit, however, bringing an astringent lime-rind bitterness, with a fun twist of pink peppercorn. It goes a little grassy towards the end, suggesting dry hopping that's gone on too long, and that's joined by a tannic rasp indicating that the mash too was not quite right. After the poise of the previous beers, it's weird that this one is so rough and amateurish. It's not unpleasant: big hops and big malt mean a good time is had, but at the same time it's strangely blurry round the edges which I would not have expected from a tight ship like Cigar City. Moving on...

Space Pope is our finisher: always good to see a Futurama reference in a beer name. It's the same strength as the last one but looks much happier: a bright amber gold. Our hops are Mosaic, Citra, Galaxy and CTZ, which hop-doctor Google tells me is a blend of Columbus, Tomahawk and Zeus. All of that gives us a very pleasant mix of the fruity and the bitter. Both aroma and flavour have the classic pithy grapefruit kick we all come to American IPA for, but with a lighter side of tangerine and mango, all of it sprinkled with resinous weedy fairy dust. It's very obvious that this has been assembled in the same house as Jai Alai, in that it offers a very similar approachable punchiness. It's an excellent expression of the classic American IPA style, or "west coast" as we're now obliged to describe it, even though that's very much not where it's from.

They're a decent bunch, in general, with just one out-of-character misstep among the six. As usual I'll give a particular endorsement to the darkest one and request more along those lines in the next shipment from Tampa.

Blessed are the tickers

They're not daft, those Belgian monks. They've noticed that if you're in the business of selling beer, it pays to have the occasional new release to stay in the drinkers' line of vision. Today's are two from established Trappist houses that generated a bit of publicity when they arrived a few months ago.

Well, sort of. Westmalle Extra is not new. This 4.8% ABV table beer used to be readily available in Belgium, distinguished from the other Westmalles by its beige label. Then late last year Malibu Stacy got a new hat. The beer was given a baby-blue label and subjected to a grand publicity blitz as though it were just launched. That did mean it showed up locally for the first time, so I get to give it a go.

It's a pale yellow in the glass with a fair bit of haze. The aroma is mildly spicy, with a touch of tripel's marmalade, minus that style's heat. The flavour is... Belgian. It's a mix of pepper incense spicing and peachy fruit esters, crisp and accessible like a saison but rich and full like a tripel. While there's an early strong-beer effect, it shows its hand soon after, fading off the palate quite quickly. The lip-smacking heft that we come to the Trappists for is missing here. I can't see how it would work as a session beer either as it's still quite busy in the flavour department, with a lot of gas as well. As a stand-in when you want a tripel but without the kick, I can see it working quite well. I give it a qualified welcome, but doubt I'll be making much repeated use of it myself.

Meanwhile at Rochefort, they've noticed the gap in their offer and introduced Rochefort Tripel Extra, a brand new, traditional Trappist tripel. This is 8.1% ABV and looks quite unpolished, pouring a murky orange with lots of suspended yeast and protein hanging about in the glass. The aroma is sweet and peachy; all fruit and lacking spice. So it goes with the flavour. Pineapple, nectarine. It's almost like... a New England IPA? Is that the trend they're chasing? I quite like the juice, and behind it there's a herbal oiliness, but it's definitely a sideways spin on the usual tripel profile. I looked hard for pepper and incense but none was forthcoming. The alcohol is also well disguised -- none of the almost spirituous kick you often get from traditional tripels. It's unorthodox, but I liked it. A few of what I'd consider to be core style points are missing, but it's clean-tasting, and well made. If that's what these monks think tripel is then I'm on board.

I expected humdrum more-of-the-same from these two, but they're both distinctive and interesting beers. I would be very ready if the Belgian Trappists wanted to extend their various ranges further -- indeed Chimay has done so since I wrote the above. How about an Orval black IPA, then?

As a coda, another brand extension from a different venerable Belgian brewing tradition: lambic. In recent years, Martin's brewery have been pushing their Bourgogne des Flandres hard, and the related microbrewery/café/visitor experience in Bruges comes highly recommended by me. There you learn the story of how Bruinen Os brown ale is blended with Timmermans lambic to create BdF. Now the brown ox has a sister, Blonden Os, which combines with the lambic to make (dun dun dunnnn...) Bourgogne des Flandres Blonde.

This is a modest 5.5% ABV and a clear pale gold in the glass. The aroma is fairly typical of a medium-strength Belgian blonde on the sweeter side of the scale, with a luscious waft of lychee and pear juice. The flavour is more subtle. Still pear, but joined by a peppery spice and a floral perfume effect: jasmine, honeysuckle and the like. Any sourness from the lambic is thoroughly buried but there remains a cleansing tang which is very welcome with all the residual sugar hanging about. Overall it's a clean and happy little number, easy drinking but with bags of character, par for the course with Martin's I find.

Paso doble

I picked up two new ones from Barcelona contract brewer Oddity: the white one with the pink writing and the pink one with the white writing. When I went to the fridge to select the first one I discovered no natural drinking order. Both are double IPAs of 8% ABV. In want of any other pointers, the white one seemed to be the obvious starting point.

That's There, There, brewed with Simcoe, Centennial and Idaho-7. It's as New England as you please, a bright yellow emulsion in the glass with an aroma roaring of vanilla and orange juice, plus a hint of garlic behind. But there's a surprise twist on tasting. It's not a cloying sugar bomb but actually quite clean. The sweetness is dialled back to orangeade levels, with a crisp fizziness that offsets any greasy estery napalm. The booze is well hidden and the savoury element is just enough to balance the sweet orange with a brush of fried onion and garlic oil. It all works rather well, in a balanced and understated way. While I may take hazy IPA to task once in a while for being a lazy shortcut, this is definitely not that. This beer is finished, polished, poised, though still looks like beaten egg yolk. One for the haze sceptics I think, and for brewers wondering why their NEIPA isn't getting plaudits.

Its identical twin is called Safe Distance. Centennial returns, this time with Mosaic and Motueka. The latter brings a grassy note to an otherwise quite tropical aroma. But it's tropical all the way in the flavour: coconut and pineapple vibes make it taste sunny, while the thick creamy texture narrows that to sunscreen lotion specifically. There's a tiny bit of alcohol burn but otherwise it's a smoothie from top to bottom. Once again it's clean, but this time there's less to go along with that. It just kinda slides off the palate leaving nothing very interesting behind. It's nice, but I'm not sure anyone wants their high-end hazeboi to be nice. Maybe they secretly do. Either way, here's a smooth and easy-going New England double IPA, and if that's your thing it's far from the worst of them.

Oddity's host brewer Whiplash has mastered the ability of brewing strong and hazy IPA without the flaws others put in, and Oddity takes full advantage of that here. I think a bit of work putting more character into them would be worthwhile, however.

Summer lashin'

I'm feeling a bit of nominative determinism trying to keep up with the releases from Whiplash. Every week a couple more, then a couple more. It's downright anti-social. I needed to draw a line somewhere so it's here: a hasty core sample of the Whiplash summer output of new beers. 

Bulking them out is a new series of flavoured sour beers called Fruit Salad Days beginning with a Mango and Lime example. They're two fruits I wouldn't normally put together: the sweet and fleshy tropical against the sharp citrus, but it works quite well. They've clearly used a lot of both as it doesn't look much like a beer, being a bright and totally opaque orange, like a glass of juice. The lime is loudest, scouring the palate from the outset, to such an extent that I'm not entirely sure where the lime juice ends and the soured beer begins. Mango softens it, though more so in the full texture and sweet aroma than in the taste itself. The tartness, and the light 3.8% ABV, mean it fulfils its remit of being refreshing but it does it without seeming any way thin or harsh, thanks I guess to the mango pulp. The worst accusation I can level at it is that it's a little unbeery, and you might as well be drinking a lime cordial, but once you've accepted that the fruit is in charge it's all rather enjoyable.

The second Fruit Salad Days is Apricot. It looks extremely similar, though the strength is slightly higher at 4.1% ABV. Again the fruit is laid on thick and the aroma is very sweet and juicy with no indication of sourness to come. That's possibly because there isn't much sourness to come, only a mildly acidic tang in the finish. Before that it's a total smoothie, from the frothy texture to the heavy fruit pulp. This one indicates how essential the lime was to version 1, adding a much-needed bite. Without that it's rather plain fare, leaning on the apricot to make it interesting, a job the apricot is not up to. A bland Berliner weisse should at least be refreshing, but with the creamy texture offered here that doesn't happen.

I appreciate how enthusiastically all-in they're going with the fruit in Fruit Salad Days, but it's not really working for this sour beer fan. I prefer this sort of thing to be cleaner and crisper.

Back in May I wrote about the challenge of witbier and how the established players have the style so thoroughly sewn up between them. As if in defiance of me, or possibly AB InBev, Whiplash began dropping weekly wits. Alma is the straight one, though hopped with American Amarillo and eschewing orange peel and coriander for just lemon zest. It's the correct shade of sunny yellow and the correct 5% ABV. It smells very spicy and dry, which I'm guessing is the yeast's doing. It's... interesting. The flavour is quite dry, giving me hints of sage, rosemary and similar oily winter herbs. Lemon arrives late and it too is oily and concentrated, with a lemon-curd sweetness lingering through the finish and beyond. While I enjoyed the combination, I found it a little busy and difficult to relax with. This is a beer which demands your attention in a way that I consider inappropriate for the style. Your mileage may vary; mine is still a boring old Hoegaarden.

"Fruited witbier" is not a style one sees very often in the craft space. For me it is forever tainted by the lurid hypersweet things that large Belgian brewers make, presumably in the belief that people who don't like beer will drink them. This one, Let It Bleed, is not lurid but a pinkish orange in the glass, showing the milky murky emulsion of proper wit. It does smell quite sweet though: a little classier than jam, so perhaps a berry compote or similar. It's soft and fluffy like a proper wit too, with a touch of peppery spice from a fancy Belgian yeast. And then there's a flavour of two parts. On one side it's the fruit, all sweet and mushy. Other than a vague sense of red berries I couldn't pick what was used and needed the can to tell me it's actually orange and peach. Huh. It's much sweeter than I would expect for that. And that fights with the other side, a herbal bitterness I guessed was coriander but none features so it must just be hops. It doesn't balance the sweetness, it merely offers a different kind of loudness. The mouthfeel is the best part of the offer; the flavour simply didn't suit me, even drinking it al fresco on a balmy evening.

Next in this line was Tender Things, an intriguing witbier containing melon and pear with coriander and Hallertau Blanc hops. It's the greenish yellow of pear juice in the glass and smells a little hot for 4.6% ABV, full of Belgian esters. The flavour is primarily crisp and grainy with lots of dry husk blowing a dust storm across one's palate. After that there's a kind of sweet and gummy effect from the fruit. I don't think I get the melon but the pear sharpness is definitely present, especially in the finish where it's joined by a sweaty gymbag staleness. This doesn't work for me at all: a beer shouldn't be acrid and sickly at the same time. It curdles in a way I won't get into the deep biology of, but suffice to say it doesn't feel healthy. Maybe served ice cold this would work better; at beer-drinking temperature there's too much angry conflict among the flavours.

Witbier four is called The White Flash, and it looks very similar to the previous though the added fruit here is white peach. Its aroma makes great use of that, exuding peach nectar vapours -- a little syrupy perhaps, though still a bold and fun sweetness. There's no herbal addition and yet again I can taste very typical witbier coriander, however that's achieved. The expected peach sweetness lands in the middle but is chased off quickly by a clean and wheaty dryness. This combination works: complex and interesting yet balanced; innovative without turning gimmicky. For me, the icing on the cake is the mouthfeel. Atlhough it finishes dry, the texture is big and soft, more like a weissbier than a wit. That makes for very satisfying drinking. So it took them four goes but I think Whiplash finally nailed witbier, putting a spin on the style to produce something different from, but as good as, the Belgian classics.

But still they come. A trio of beers were created for the To Øl beer club though also sold directly by the brewery. Among them, a "double dry zested" witbier called Il Veliero. It's a much more orthodox recipe, with grapefruit zest the only unusual ingredient, in addition to standard orange and coriander. And it looks like a normal witbier: that middling shade of opaque yellow-orange. You can tell where the zest goes right from the first sniff: a foghorn blast of Lilt greets the nostrils. That's given free rein in the flavour, sitting right up front, covering any subtleties and burying any flaws. The only extra dimension comes in the finish as a buzz of Belgian farmhouse funk, more like a saison than a wit. Overall, though, it's deliciously easy drinking and perfectly sessionable at 4.8% ABV. Perhaps not what a witbier purist will want, but I had no complaints during the handful of minutes I spent downing it. Although a word of warning: two beers later I was still getting Lilt burps.

Also for To Øl, we got a Kölsch-type offering called Total Control. There's a serious Kiwi influence here with the presence of Nelson Sauvin and Motueka hops, and it's firmly hazy in a way that real Kölsch isn't. There's lots of fruit in the aroma, the white grape and gooseberry of Nelson in particular. Good, but again not Kölsch. It is clean and crisp; the novelty Nelson is not as pronounced in the flavour. And it's another drinker's beer, 4.8% ABV and very easy to knock back. I put a bit of effort into picking out the hop flavours and did find Motueka's concentrated herbal grass thing and well as the hard minerals you get with Nelson -- there's much more about Nelson's attributes to come below. A tropical fruit finish coupled with a certain softness of texture does mean that it's not an accurate Kölsch recreation but, like the witbier above, that doesn't prevent it from being very enjoyable.

It's well past hop o'clock at this stage, and that sequence begins with a pale ale (hazy, natch) called Midnight Dipper. There's a selection of malts but they don't affect the appearance much: it looks like a pretty normal shade of pale-ale yellow. It's the mouthfeel where they really contribute, as I'm sure was the intention. There's a creamy thickness to this that makes it nicely chewable. That forms a perfect setting for the hops -- Idaho 7 -- to pull a few tricks. Tangy lemon candy is the aroma, followed by a foretaste of more real-tasting lemon peel, perhaps lightly candied. I thought it was going to fade out sweetly at this point but instead it intensifies the bitterness, bringing lime, grapefruit and even a little fresh green veg. Whiplash has the knack of getting the prized soft haze texture without the gritty dreg off-flavours, and this is a brilliant example of that. There's lots to enjoy here, the flavour complexity up there with their top double IPAs yet all at only 5.2% ABV. That'll do.

There seems to be a glut of Nelson Sauvin floating around at the moment: fill thy boots while thee may, say I. Whiplash has put some of its allocation into Heaven Scent, a 5.5% ABV pale ale. It's lightly hazy and a bit thin looking; pale orange rather than the more typical yellow of their offerings. I try not to be repetitive in my Nelson descriptors but it's such a distinctive hop that this can be difficult. So you get that hard organic-chemistry aroma: kerosene and bitumen with sparks of hot flint. A smooth texture helps build a smooth flavour of apricot, kiwifruit and honeydew, with a pinch of the gooseberry tartness to remind you of Nelson Sauvin's intended affinity with Sauvignon Blanc wine. It's an excellent expression of the hop, maybe a little high on the tart/bitter side as against the juicy fruit, but still beautiful. Long live admirable Nelson!

No fluff next as we head for the west coast Covered In Dust. Still they couldn't resist a bit of murk, and this pale amber number has a distinct fogginess going on. It's a substantial 6.8% ABV and smells of sticky orange chew sweets, with maybe some other artificial citrus elements mixed in as well. In stark contrast to the previous one it is very dry, which gives the hops a squeaky acidity that's almost harsh, were it not for that candy. With a little warmth on board there's a dankness as well; oily and slightly peppery. I tried hard to like this but the hop sweetness was too overpowering for me. Damn you, Amarillo. Leaving aside my own preferences, this doesn't really meet the standards for west coast IPA. There's an effort at cleanness, and bitterness and dankness, but it fails to hit the mark on each of them. By all means try it, but adjust your expectations beforehand.

Something truer to the Whiplash roots next: Jungle Window, a 7% ABV IPA with Vic Secret, Mosaic and Cascade. Eggy yellow: check. Aroma: well, there is one. It's a mix of Vic Secret herbal sharpness and the luscious tropicals of well-behaved Mosaic. While it's rather understated, what's there is good. That Vic Secret aniseed kick sits right at the top of the flavour, which I like. It's an almost eucalyptus-like bitterness, balanced by the soft creamy texture. And it's persistent. The Mosaic mango is relegated to the tail end of the aftertaste, while I couldn't locate Cascade's influence at all. Because of the full body, the ABV could be anything: it's not hot in the slightest, and of course it's not watery. I feel they could have dialled down the ABV with a similar recipe and made it cheaper and more sessionable, but I'm aware how much of an objectionable back-seat brewer that makes me. In fact, they don't need to change a thing. The joy of Vic Secret is shown off to great effect here, undiminished by haze and whatnot. I'll take it.

We hit the home straight with Velouria double IPA, one which contains Strata and Nelson Sauvin, very much the power couple of high-end hops. Eggy: yeah yeah, we've done this bit. Nelson's flinty minerality is right there in the aroma along with a softer fruit which could be either of them. Anyway, it smells great. The fuzzy New England effect is the first thing I tasted and it doesn't sit very well with the hops. The bitterness that rolls in behind clashes with it, like a dry Sauvignon Blanc given a dollop of vanilla syrup. Mango and guava slip in late and calm the situation, and mean this is isn't by any means a disaster. But... I think the Nelson is wasted. This hop has lager ancestry and it's not happy when it's not in a clean beer. Prove me wrong in the comments below, obviously.

A deep breath before we bring out the big gun. The Shake Down is another one brewed for To Øl's subscribers, a double IPA with Vic Secret and BRU1. It's downright beige in the glass with a hard aroma of booze and garlicky oils. Not promising. It's a thick emulsion of a beer, feeling quite soupy in the mouth; smooth but heavy. The hops don't pop as I'd like, bringing instead a mix of liquorice bitterness and savoury spice: pepper, nutmeg and red cabbage. There's a hint of lemon-flavoured chew sweet on the end too, which is weird. It's not one of those awful murky DIPAs, but at the same time it's not cleanly flavoured nor jumping with fresh hops. I wasn't in the mood for a creamy, savoury double IPA -- I'm never in the mood for a creamy savoury double IPA -- but this is one; take it or leave it. In fairness it's the sort of thing I expect from To Øl, but Whiplash usually does better.

And that, I think, is me up to date with Whiplash as of the weekend just past. Doubtless it won't be long before my fridge is once again full of new fancy white cans begging for attention. I think we're overdue one with a dark beer inside; just saying.

Russian to judgement

Once again the Polonez grocery chain has scratched my itch for seeking unfamiliar beers in foreign supermarkets. This time it's an all-Russian affair, beginning at their selection of Moscow Brewing Company beers.

Zhiguli Barnoe takes its name from a famous Moscow restaurant. It's a lager of 4.9% ABV and an enticing deep and wholesome amber colour in the glass. The aroma is clean and malt-forward, reminding me of the heavier sort of Czech 12° pale lager, and Budvar in particular. All very promising. Sure enough, weighty golden syrup follows through in the foretaste, backed and balanced by a mild grassiness that suggests real Saaz hops (or similar) to me. From the cheapie half-litre can, I was getting macro vibes from the outward visuals but this has not been assembled on an industrial assembly line from extracts and additives: it's a real beer in the central European vernacular. There's even a little buzz of complexity on the finish; some honey and rose petals with a pinch of black pepper. The texture is full and satisfying, rounding out a very jolly experience overall.

Presumably because all non-Russians are lightweights, Zhiguli Barnoe Export is lower-strength: 4.8% ABV, and you really need to squint at the small print to find that out. It's a fair bit paler too, bringing back fears of mass-produced dreck. The aroma is unimpressive though not unpleasant: normal bland-lager vibes. And yes, it's very plain. There's a mild toasted grain foretaste but not much beyond it. I looked for hop character and there's maybe a slight green cabbage bite, but that's me being charitable. It is at least full-bodied again -- thinness would be unforgivable -- but it's very boring fare. It could serve as in inoffensive party beer, but nothing more involved than that.

The final beer comes from AB InBev's Russian operation and is one of their core brands. Stary Melnik ("Old Miller") exists in a number of different versions and I think this is the basic pale lager. It's a light shade of gold and 4.5% ABV. Now here's that artificiality I had been expecting. There's quite a plasticky twang off this, and indeed hop extract is admitted to on the label. The soft bready texture is probably its best feature but that's not saying much. A minor malt sweetness precedes the plasticky off-note, and it all fades out quickly in quite an unpleasant watery way. I had thought the fancy embossed bottle would land me something interesting but it once again goes to show how deceptive outward appearances can be. This is a steadfastly dull low-grade industrial lager and that's all you get.

And I guess that's the lesson for this post, inasmuch as there is one. Drink the beer first, then decide whether it's any good or not.