Going nowhere

I would love to be planning out the year's travel about now, but it's not happening. When an array of Eastern European beers showed up in Craft Central last month I bought a selection in the hope they would help sate my wanderlust a little.

The first stop is Slovenia, and a double IPA from Lobik called Why Dip? The hops are an intriguing combination of local varieties, Styrian Goldings, Styrian Wolf and Styrian Fox. It's 8% ABV and a juicy orange colour in the glass. The aroma is very orangey too, with a little touch of savoury garlic but not too much. There's no sign of that alcohol in either the texture or flavour, it's light and breezy, bursting with zest and overall quite fun to drink. The savoury side raises its unwelcome head again in the finish, but again there's enough going on to cover it. After the orange-juice foretaste there's a sweet candy-chew finish. This isn't the most complex beer in the world, but it's clean, balanced and very approachable. I'll take it.

It's amazing how hefty a 500ml can feels when you've become accustomed to 440s. We've moved to Poland, and the Nepomucen brewery. Multicultural is branded a "California IPA" which had me expecting west-coast style, so I was discombobulated by the egg-yellow hazy job which poured forth. It smells juicy and gritty, suggesting we're back to very ordinary NEIPA here. The trilogy is complete with the big dollop of garlic sitting right in the middle of the flavour, flanked by sharper spring onion. There's a modicum of juice in the finish, and a little citrus bitterness, however these up-sides are fully weighed down by the garlic and harsh grit. So it's not bland, and packs more of a flavour punch than its mere 7% ABV suggests, but it's not great. In part that's because it's not what I expected when I pulled the tab, though even in the hazy IPA stakes it's a nope from me.

For an abrupt change, Nepomucen also has a Forest Sour. What does that mean? Blueberries and spruce, apparently. It's a purple emulsion in the glass, topped with pink froth. There's no lactose here, and it's only 4.7% ABV, but it's still nicely full bodied, bulked out with wheat malt and wheat flakes. The sourness is nearly non-existent but for once I don't mind. The blueberries add a generic sort of tart sweetness, although it's the spruce that really gives this beer its character. The central flavour is a gorgeous wintery herbal thing, all pine needles and with overtones of ginger and thyme. Yes, it's a flavoured novelty beer, and you can forget about any malt or hop features; I loved it, though. Sometimes subtle and complex can take a backseat and allow fun to be the driving force.

Our final destination is Hungary, and the Mad Scientist brewery. Like a lot of Irish beer fans I've come to associate this outfit with the weird dessert beers they ship with the Boxtravaganza boxes in summer. It feels a bit odd to be drinking a straightforward hazy IPA, but that's what Mad House is. It smells sweet and orangey, like a fruit chew, so I was expecting sticky but it's surprisingly thin. It is only 5.5% ABV so maybe that's to be expected. It's not as sweet as I feared, with a kind of sherbet and pith effect, finishing savoury with a touch of spice. I had to put in a bit of work to identify all this, however, as it's really not very assertively flavoured, to the point of being a little watery. It's inoffensive fare, but for €5.50 I think I'm entitled to more than that.

The last beer is another in the latest unnecessary new beer style: cold IPA. This one, Megageil, is 5.9% ABV, pale yellow with a faint misting of haze. The aroma is extremely dank: that almost fetid rotting vegetal funk certain hops give off. The varieties are not named. It's a lager all right, a clean and crisp base encouraging easy drinking. And then there's the hops, pulling the flavour in all sorts of directions. The funky side is there, though calmer than it seemed from the aroma, and it's offset by a sweet candy-chew fruit aspect. There's not much bitterness, just a few pinches of fennel or anise, before it finishes with a spicy black pepper flourish. It's a fascinating combination, though even as a lager it's a bit busy. I found it hard to relax with this one -- the lager-cleanness gives the hops too much free space to run riot. I shouldn't be surprised that cold IPA has a lot of the same inherent problems as IPL. Expect more cold IPA on these pages regardless.

That's the end of today's trip. I see some interesting things from other points east have arrived in Craft Central lately so it won't be long before I'm off on another virtual beery trip.

Set the controls

Metalman has never really been one of those new-beer-every-week sort of breweries but they've been making hay with the Galactic Voyager series lately. Today's IPAs are the sixth and seventh, by my count.

Haze is still king of the style, and Absolute Magnitude is a light one at just 5.3% ABV. There's a relative thinness to both the haze and the mouthfeel here. A vague orangey quality in the aroma ramps itself up in the flavour to become a lovely burst of tangy mandarin and satsuma. The thinness pays off in making it fantastically thirst-quenching and really built for the pint glass more than the 33cl can. While it's not especially complex, there is a pleasing bitter bite in the finish, to balance all that juice. It wasn't surprising to learn that Mandarina Bavaria is among the hops used, but what really shocked me is that it's in there with both Sabro and Sorachi Ace. Normally the pith and coconut from either of these would be unmissable, but miss it I did. Knowing it's there, I did get a little of Sorachi's pith in the finish, but it's unusually restrained. Regardless, this is a quality little number and one I hope will still be around in the summer when its refreshment powers will be most useful.

They've invented an entirely new style for the next one: Late Heavy Bombardment is a "Rather Hoppy IPA". RHIPAs, it turns out, are 6% ABV and quite darkly hazy. The aroma is sweet and citric, suggesting orangeade or cordial. Mosiac, Idaho 7 and Hüll Melon are the hops, and I expected something more tropical from that, perhaps unreasonably, but this is a little olde worlde instead. Interestingly, even though it's only a tad stronger than the above it provides plenty to chew on and is much more a sipper than a quaffer. Citrus intensifies on tasting, and it wears a sharp pithy bitterness up front, where it leans almost to grass and green veg. The orange is still there but this time it's a big and hefty jaffa rather than a cutesy mandarin. A dry gritty roughness finishes it on a slightly severe note. This was all a little too serious and bitter for my liking. 33cl was plenty.

I'm fascinated by how two broadly similarly-specced beers can provide such different experiences. The brewery doesn't tell us anything about the yeasts used, but maybe that's a factor. Normally, old-fashioned punchy bitterness doesn't bother me, but the spritzy breeziness of Absolute Magnitude was my preference here.

Pomme and circumstance

I hadn't heard anything about this new one from Land & Labour when I happened across it in the off licence. Hard Graf is a graf: a mix of beer and apple juice, something you don't see very much of in these parts. The one White Hag did with MacIvor's cider, Silver Branch, is the only other example that springs to mind (edit: though see also Kinnegar's Olan's Tart and the comments below). Anyway, Land & Labour is always to be trusted so I didn't mind parting with a tenner to find out what it's like.

The label mentions rosemary, sage and black limes and I misread it, thinking these were actually included in the recipe (they're not). My mistaken belief was fully borne out by the foretaste which absolutely shows the oily winter herbal quality of sage in particular -- it dominates, the way actual sage tends to when used in beer. The effect is achieved with nothing more involved than spontaneously fermented beer, apple juice and 18 months ageing in wine barrels.

A lightly hazy yellow colour, it smells like a lambic, with the same sort of oak-and-gunpowder spice. Beside the initial herbal taste there's a sweetness which I guess they're calling black lime, but is more like lime cordial to me. It's interesting how it creates an illusion of sugary density even though it's actually quite light-bodied. As is often the case with fruited geuze, the base beer gets a little lost, receding to no more than a tangy sour seasoning in the finish.

Overall, it's a fascinating and delicious creation. I doubt I would have ever guessed what went into it. It's amazing what simple ingredients can do in skilled hands.

So that was Christmas

Christmas with family brought a selection of bottled beers from England and Wales. From the UK's beer internet it can be easy to forget that these still exist. It's not all brightly coloured cans over there.

Take, for example, Wye Valley Hopfather: 3.9% ABV and described as a session IPA, different from a bitter because of the cocktail of American hops, I guess. It's a clear pale golden colour, which I got to appreciate at length while I waited for the head to settle. There's a gorgeous aroma of fresh tropical fruit with a lacing of lemon peel. The mouthfeel is surprisingly full given the modest strength: smooth and almost creamy. The promise of fresh fruit gives way to something rather more artificial tasting -- Skittles and Starburst -- a calling card of Azacca. It avoids turning sticky thanks to a spicy edge of gunpowder and clove, alongside a fresh and floral honey sweetness. Overall, this is a thoroughly enjoyable little chap: accessible while still massively flavourful. Exactly what traditional English brewing does best, even when it's elbow-deep in the American hops.

Cotswald Ale from Hook Norton takes great pains to appear humble and genteel, promising balance and little else. Although the hops are Cascade and Chinook, they're English-grown, not those brash American ones. In English bitter terms it's a bruiser at 4.4% ABV, and though the label says it's golden, it looks more amber to me. It's bottled, but does a great job of channelling the cask effect, being smoothly textured and richly malt-forward. Balancing the maltose are tea-like tannins and a mild lemon bitterness. This is another modest little beauty. It had been "cellared" a little longer than the brewery recommends but was still perfectly delicious.

I came out of this a bit miffed that we don't really get English beers like these in Dublin any more. Despite the low profile they're still very much worth drinking. Then it was on to some seasonal fare.

Basking in the satisfaction of completing the 1000-piece jigsaw before Christmas lunch, I opened Ding Dong, a golden ale from Monty's of Powys. It poured mostly clear with a slight suspension of trub in it, smelling gently of grapefruit and bubblegum. There's a faint mustiness too, however, and that's at the front of the flavour: dry and brittle crepe paper, dried dandelions and rye crackers. It's not how I like my golden ales, at any time of the year. The fruit character has all but vanished, letting it finish on rubber and over-boiled vegetables. Can you tell I wasn't impressed? I wasn't impressed.

A second chance for the brewery comes in the form of Figgy Pud, a more fully-formed festive effort. This is a self-avowed winter warmer, promising cinnamon and mixed spices. Full marks for the texture: smooth and creamy, built for sipping. I'm not convinced by the spice mix, however. It's there, but it tastes like a particularly manly brand of shower gel, all musk and sandalwood. There's tang from it; a most unfestive vinegar buzz. My soft spot for black pepper is the only thing that saves it: there's a clean sort of oily exotic spice. That's not much of a fig-pudding flavour, but I'll take it. Still, this didn't quite deliver on its promise of being Christmassy. Spices don't make Christmas. Sorry Monty.

Hobsons, a favourite English brewery of mine, has turned its Postman's Knock porter into Postman's Plum Porter, boasting that the local Shropshire Prune Damson is the very essence of plum. That's as maybe but it's still an absolutely top-notch porter, 5% ABV but light and thirst quenching, gently roasted and with a dark chocolate centrepiece, flecked with hazelnut pieces. The fruit is worn lightly around that, tasting of raisin more than plum to me, with just a hint of jam but certainly no stickiness. I'm not sure that it's better than the original but it's not a downgrade either. This one has all the charm implied by its chocolate-box label art.

Another random factor from an unfamiliar brewery: Bewdley, in Worcestershire. I wasn't all that inspired by the label of Bah Humbug! and so it proved with the beer within. Advertised as "ruby", it's a dark cola-brown, and goes straight down the middle for English ale: Maris Otter, crystal malt, Fuggles and Goldings. 4.6% ABV should be enough to give it plenty of heft but it's thin. Stewed tea and soft biscuits lend an air of Sunday afternoon at the carehome. According to the brewery it tastes of liquorice, and there's a certain old-school herbal bitterness, though I wouldn't say full-on aniseed. There's no active unpleasantness here but not much going on its favour either. Sink and move on.

Finally, the brewery formerly known as Wells & Young (now The Eagle, a subsidiary of Carlsberg/Marstons) has a Christmas Porter, promising plum and chocolate though declining to list its ingredients. It's properly black with a decent tan-coloured head. This is no Christmassy confection, it's very bitter, with a little dark chocolate and a lot of pipe tobacco and coffee grounds. There's a certain soft sweetness coming from the plum but it's short-lived, then we're back to the hard roughness. Bitter porter doesn't usually bother me; I tend to be all-in with them, but I couldn't warm to this. There's an overriding staleness, unpleasantly sweaty, that spoiled it for me. A near miss from the brewery with the complicated name and even more complicated history.

The campy forced jollity of Christmas beers like these tends to be the most entertaining thing about them; for the most part the liquid isn't up to much. Yet not even that tendency can upset the understated class of Hobsons, still a firm favourite, plums or no.

Just a quick one

Prolific Dublin brewery Third Barrel tends to warrant big long posts as I try to keep up with everything they've put out. It's a much more manageable handful today, however.

The first, under the main brand with collaborative input from Berlin brewpub BräuGier, is a cold IPA called #Verboten. This is the first cold IPA I've featured here and you'll need to go somewhere else to learn why some nerd thinks it's genuinely innovative while a different dork considers it the same as India pale lager. Regardless, it's 7.5% ABV and a rich golden colour in the glass with a slight haze. Strata, Idaho 7 and Cryo Pop all feature in the hop charge, with a promise of juiciness to come. It smells like your basic American IPA, with more modern candy-chew sweetness favoured over citric bitterness. The body is quite heavy, fully reflecting the ABV but not the promise of cool fermentation: no lager crispness here. Mind you, going back to the label it says it's brewed like a lager and "fermented like a West Coast" suggesting, as the mouthfeel definitely does, that it's an ale after all. I am confused. The flavour offers much of what the aroma does, being fruit candy again, plus an added savoury dimension: fried onion and peppers. The very ale-ish texture gives that a long and slightly sticky finish. Overall, it's fine. I'm not wowed by this amazing new style of beer, nor by a superior American-style IPA, but it's nice. Third Barrel does IPA well, and this is one of those, no more, no less.

New for TwoSides is Hazy Train, an IPA which does what it promises: an opaque orange-yellow with a fine meringue topping. I was expecting sweet but it's very nicely balanced, delivering a tang and a spice with the juice and eschewing any vanilla or other confection. I was happily horsing through my pint at The Headline before I thought to check the ABV: it seemed light but the complexity hinted at hidden alcohol. Thankfully it's only 4.5% ABV and thereby fully horseable. I was reminded a little of the past TwoSides classic Two Yards: it has the same bright and summery freshness. On a dismal midwinter afternoon it was exactly the ray of sunshine I needed.

Dessert is breakfast: a coffee and oatmeal stout from Third Circle called A Shot in the Dark. Coffee and cereal is exactly what the aroma delivers, and the flavour is strikingly bitter. They may as well have added a couple of Gauloise to this, because it's extremely grown-up and not even remotely creamy. 5.2% ABV is low for something of this nature, but the lightness it provides accentuates the powerful roastiness. To ding it, the coffee side is a little overdone and I can't help feeling there's a good stout buried under it. Also, isn't oatmeal meant to make it smooth? It really doesn't here. That's me being persnickity, though. On its own terms, this is lovely: one of those boldly flavoured beers where the boldness is a reward in itself. If you've yet to find a coffee stout that delivers sufficiently on the coffee front, here you go.

Three quite different beers here, all showing off the talents of the Third Barrel team. Dublin's brewing scene would be a lot duller without them. I'll have a different brewer's very different take on cold IPA in a post coming soon.

Huddersfield does Berlin

For my trip north at Christmas I took along a couple of Magic Rock cans to drink on the train. I've not had much from this once-revered brewery in a while. Both of these are in the fruited Berliner weisse style.

They're a little on the strong side, the lighter of the pair, Electric Currant, being all of 4.6% ABV. It's flavoured with blackcurrant and in fairness it does look like Ribena: a crystalline purple-red. The flavour isn't especially blackcurranty, however. In part that's because of the sourness, bringing a sharply tart quality to the whole picture, which is unsubtle but welcome. This is no sticky pretend-sour effort. The texture is nicely soft and the flavour gentler than blackcurrant, suggesting cherry and strawberry to me. It's all rather jolly, if perhaps a little too seriously sour to act as an easy-going refreshment beer: light but still made for sipping.

After that, I had high hopes for Fruitfulness, this one named for its inclusion of elderberry, juniper and blackberry, getting a minor ABV boost to 4.8%. It's an even deeper purple colour and certainly smells of an amalgam of mixed berries. The flavour is disappointingly plain, however, with the grainy dryness of unadorned Berliner weisse being more prominent than the fruit. It could be that these berries just aren't particularly flavoursome as beer ingredients, though there also seems to be a lack of depth, of substance, here. Comparing the ingredients listings I notice that the previous one had oats and this doesn't. That it's mildly tangy rather than full-on sour does make for easier drinking, but it still doesn't stack up well against Electric Currant as regards complexity.

Although I had a strong preference for one over the other, there was nothing wrong with either beer. I think it's safe to say that Magic Rock has still got it, despite the change in ownership.

F-pop

France is a hugely underrepresented country on the beer scene. I know there's plenty going on there but their export game seems lacking. I jumped at the chance to try a set from a brewery I hadn't heard of when they arrived in local shops recently. Say hello to Brasserie Popihn from Burgundy.

We begin with a pale ale called Icauna, 4.8% ABV and a medium-hazy yellow. New England was definitely on their mind when they created this, and it has the vanilla aroma and flavour plus a certain soft fluffiness to the texture. It's well balanced, however, with a zesty citrus bittering, finishing tangy rather than sweet. It's quite simple that way, with no further complexities on offer, but equally no nasty off-flavours; no grit or garlic, which is always appreciated. This is a well-made nod to fashion but rooted in the clean and refreshing aspects of American-style pale ale. A good start.

We go even more chic next, with a "pastry sour" called Pastry Sour. Normally it's lactose and fruit that defines the style, but while this one claims raspberry (obviously there but not listed on the ingredients), the adjuncts are coconut, vanilla and cocoa. Odd. It pours a deep purple shade, fizzing busily before settling without a head. Sure enough it's raspberry and chocolate in the aroma, and that's the nuts and bolts of the flavour too. I don't know if Ruffle bars are still in production, but this is how it tastes to me. Ordinarily, beers designated as pastry sour are jammy and sweet, but this one has a substantial sour element. The candy doesn't coat the palate, and after that initial chocolate buzz there follows quite an intense lactic bite, which helps clean it up and bring out more of the raspberry.

Arriving in the next shipment was a final sour fruity one: Berliner Weisse Cassis / Framboise. I tried hard to include the head in my picture but it didn't last long enough. Take my word that there's a pleasing pink topping on the scarlet body, albeit briefly. Blackcurrant and raspberry are both fairly commonplace in fruit beers but I can't recall any that use the combination on its own. Normally I would expect raspberry to be dominant: that's usually how it goes. Here, however, the drinker is presented with blackcurrant first in the aroma, and is left with a lingering Ribena aftertaste. Only in the middle does the raspberry peep out, and quite briefly. And as with the previous one, this takes its sourness seriously, not overdone but assertive and it complements the berries well. This is a fun and tasty effort, if a little overclocked at 5.1% ABV.

Back to the hazy yellow, then. Southern Passion is an IPA of 6.6% ABV. That's a strength not to be sniffed at, but it's actually quite a light and breezy affair, lacking heat or any cloying sweetness. What you get is a gentle pineapple quality, with a sprinkling of cinnamon, tailing off to lemon juice. That's it, that's all it does, but it's lovely. The cleanness and simplicity is not something one regularly encounters from high-end hazy IPA, but it works wonderfully. Mind you, €6 is a lot to pay for something simple and decent. Simple and decent can be got for a lot less in other styles from other places.

It's a double IPA to finish: DIPA DDH Cryo Pop / HBC 472 / Ekuanot. I can't imagine what someone who isn't seriously into beer would make of an unhelpful name like that, but then they probably have other things to spend €7 on. The message is clear that this isn't for beginners. Yes it's opaque and yellow, and there's a fresh tropical aroma, bringing sweet pineapple, mandarin and a little orange pith. The flavour runs big on juice, and intensely so. I get a sort of concentrated satsuma with an edge of lemon zest. This subsides after a moment, allowing a dirty garlic and burnt plastic mix. This is enhanced by a thick texture and significant heat. It's 8% ABV but could easily pass for a point or two more. I mean, I guess it's fully to spec, and an all-in hazy DIPA fan will literally lap it up. But I know it can be done with more nuance than this. Too harsh, too boozy and, frankly, too juicy. If you're craving an ever more more intense juice experience, here's your beer.

It would be nice to see more French beer around even if, judging from the above, they make same sort of beer there as everywhere else these days.