Twisted pair

Things are not what they seem with today's beers, both from Dublin brewery Lineman.

The draught-only Love Buzz had me wearing out some shoe leather for a trip across to Tapped on Nassau Street, not a part of town I'd be in regularly, at least since the Porterhouse discontinued Wrasslers. There I found a 4.5% ABV session IPA which was an unappetising murky ochre, with a slightly sickly sweet cordial aroma. It's smoothly textured, feeling much bigger than the strength, while the flavour is bizarre. I hadn't twigged that it had added passionfruit, although the brewery did warn us, in fairness. Anyway, it's very passionfruit, with a concentrated syrupiness that somehow manages to be more spicy than sweet, giving me cinnamon and sandalwood, while still also being tropical. Like I say: bizarre. It's fun, and certainly different. I can't imagine it works as an actual session beer, however. My palate was gumming up at the two-thirds mark and my next beer was definitely going to be something cleaner. Still, a worthwhile experiment, and worth trying if you see it, if only for the weirdness.

I gave an approving nod recently to the Saul Bass homage on one of Tiny Rebel's cans. Lineman is at it too, referencing Bass's Hitchcock poster work on Vertigo. Double black IPA is a rare treat indeed, and this one is a prize-winning homebrew recipe, which is another signal that there's a good time to come. It poured a little murky, with a brackish brownish tint to the black body. A raft of rocky ivory foam tops it off. The aroma is quite subtle, but I do get the suggestion of mocha and pine, which indicates it will be stylistically accurate. It is, I guess, but in an understated way. The unspecified American hops manifest as a sharp citric bitterness, like a squirt of lemon juice. That sits up front, and is quite brief. The middle section is all about the dark malt, and it's more chocolate-forward than I would prefer, holding back on the roast. There's a hint of dankness on the finish, but you don't get a lot of bang for your buck here, and there's no intimation at all that we're dealing with an 8.2% ABV whopper. Black IPA is a daft, clownish beer style, and double-black doubly so. That gives brewers a licence to make something loud and silly, but that's not what's happened here. Maybe the homebrew judges preferred a bit of nuance and balance in theirs, because you absolutely get that. I would have liked something more head-spinning, however. 

I'll say this for Lineman: they know how to keep things interesting. It's quite the gift to the beer blogging community.

Spring warmer

Despite the sunshine there was still a nip in the air when Kinnegar's Brewers At Play 45 arrived, so I can forgive the brewery for putting out a winter beer just as spring starts turning to summer. It's a smoked porter with maple syrup, and surprisingly low-strength for such a thing, at a mere 4.2% ABV.

It's not a light beer, however. The brewery's description suggests that it was designed smoke-first with the syrup as an afterthought, but it's exceedingly dense, though tastes and feels more like chocolate sauce than maple syrup. The base porter, then, is wonderfully full-flavoured, packed with high-cocoa chocolate mixed with dark-roast coffee, the impact aided by the silky texture. Yet oddly there's very little smoke, that I could detect, maybe just a hint of burnt sugar to signal its presence. I don't miss it, though; there are few things worse than a smoked porter that tastes ashen or fishy, and this definitely isn't one of those. The maple flavour arrives right on the end, present but unobtrusive. I'm not sure it's needed: the underlying porter is plenty.

This is the sort of high quality autumn seasonal that works well any time of the year. It's big, bold and luxurious, yet at a strength to permit mid-week drinking. Another addition to the Kinnegar pantheon of top notch dark beers.

It was twenty years ago today

In February 2005, Russian River launched the world's first triple IPA, Pliny the Younger. A few months later, on 28th April, I stopped putting things off and published the first post on my new beer blog. The two of us have not met previously, but here we are at last, on the 20th anniversary of me getting this thing moving.

I can't remember the last time I saw a clear triple IPA, but it's quite the thrill: the promise of a strong, clean, upright and muscular experience; a beer six-pack of a different sort altogether. The aroma is pure West Coast, but not in an especially intense way, just nice sparks of grapefruit zest on a clean malt base which calls to mind strong pale lager. Flavourwise, it's not hugely different to how I remember its double IPA antecedent, Pliny the Elder, tasting: an orderly array of classic American IPA characteristics, including grapefruit, pine, orange peel and a touch of spicy, herby, cannabis. The extra strength does make a contribution to all this, though, preventing any harsh IBU-chasing bitterness by adding a slightly syrupy residual-sugar effect. Despite it, the heat intensity is restrained and I wouldn't have guessed an ABV as high as 10.25%. This is drinkable rocket fuel.

Overall, it's a jolly decent beer. I get how, two decades ago, it would have been eye-poppingly amazing. At the time, I was only just discovering what Sierra Nevada Pale Ale does, and there wasn't a single commercial brewer in this country using Cascade hops, never mind anything more intense. But triple IPA made its way here eventually: half way between 2005 and now, Trouble Brewing released Ireland's first, and it wasn't markedly different to what I have in front of me. Since then, American IPA went tragically off course [insert politics joke here], and there are now any number of hot messes claiming to be worthy triple IPA, so the amazement factor is now back, except in retro mode: this is great because hardly anyone makes IPA like it, or as good, any more.

We're just two twenty-year-olds, having fun together, not caring that the rest of the world has moved on. A big thanks to Paul for gifting me the bottle.

Toro!

It's The Session time once again, and this month's host is Ding, who asks Where do you find value? As someone who does a bit of consumer campaigning, it's a very important topic: whether beer is expensive or cheap, the drinker should feel they're getting value for it. With the highly-marketed mainstream beers in the pubs of Ireland, I think that is very much not the case. For a neophile like me, there's another side to the value proposition. Most beers that I drink are new to me, so I've no idea whether they will prove good value or not. What helps is the existence of this blog. I've long come to view it as a way of getting value out of bad beer. I may not have enjoyed drinking it, but being able to compose and publish an account of why, makes it some way worth my while. And, of course, excoriating reviews are much more fun to write than positive ones.

I was expecting some excoriation to be necessary when I came to today's pair of beers.

The ongoing trend for rustic-branded Mediterranean lager rarely troubles these pages. I am bewildered that there still seems to be space in this sector where Heineken's Moretti and Molson Coors's Madrí are slugging it out. Neither beer is any good, but that hasn't stopped other large breweries trying to attract drinkers away from them with similarly-presented fare.

Damm's effort comes from its brewery in Málaga, and is called Victoria Málaga. It's presented in a 66cl bottle and, like Moretti, the label features an old-timey bloke with a hat -- he's a German tourist, apparently, the beer's mascot since the 1950s, before Damm bought and revived it in 2001. It's a quite a dark one; the clear golden colour having a slight tint of coppery red in it. It doesn't look like a cheapie mass-market job.

Not much happens in the aroma, just a vague graininess which is the sort you get from mass-market lager, though the body is fuller than I expected from just 4.8% ABV. There's a proper malt foretaste, thick and bready, with some quite Czech-tasting golden syrup. Alas, it doesn't last long, fading before the beer's other flavour kicks in. That's a mild zinc-like bitter bite, very much the sort you get from old-world hops, and likely German ones. This too is fleeting, and it finishes promptly and cleanly. This shows some of the features of good wholesome lagers, but its industrial nature betrays it. While it doesn't taste cheap or compromised, there's not really enough depth of taste for me to recommend it. It could have been much worse.

And speaking of: Aldi has taken a direct potshot at Madrí by creating an obvious knock-off, called Grande. Given that these, and there are many of them, never bear any resemblance to the beers they're copying, beyond the label, I had no idea what to expect. It's noteworthy that, unlike Madrí, this one is actually brewed in Spain. Again it's a 66cl bottle, and again it's on the darker side: not quite as deep as the previous beer but certainly an alluring amber. It's much thinner and fizzier, however, and drinking them back-to-back really shows up the Victoria as a better beer made to a more flavourful spec. This isn't much lighter at 4.6% ABV but is a world away.

The aroma is quite sugary, but not in a malt-like way, and suggests that the beer might become sweet and cloying. The chance would be a fine thing. On tasting there's almost nothing going on, with the insistent fizz providing white noise where the flavour should be. I let it warm up a little, in the hope that something of interest would emerge, but nothing of interest is on the cards here. There's a slight tang of green apple and brown sugar, hallmarks of lager done on the cheap, but nothing beyond this. Any bite comes from the carbonation rather than hops. It's not unpleasant, but it is extremely basic. Is it an effective substitute for the price-conscious Madrí drinker? Sure, why not?

I remain none the wiser about the Mediterranean lager trend. These beers are quite different from each other, yet both are being pitched at the same segment of beer drinkers. Neither has TV adverts, though, so I guess they'll continue in the ha'penny place, regardless of any individual merits. I'm certainly not planning to buy either one again, but the four paragraphs above mean I got my money's worth from them.

Tripel the fun

I was fortunate to get to visit the Westmalle brewery a couple of years ago. The most unusual thing I noticed was how this otherwise quite normal industrial-sized brewery only ever makes three beers, and most of that is just one beer: Westmalle Dubbel. In amongst the canyons of brown crates in the cellars there's only the occasional patch of cream or pale blue, for Tripel and Extra.

Now the two lesser siblings have got together to create a new draught product: Westmalle Duo. It's a 60/40 blend of the pair, and I guess the idea is to deliver the complexity of Westmalle Tripel at a more approachable strength. Still, it's 7.2% ABV, so I wouldn't exactly deem it a session beer.

In Dublin I found it on tap at The Porterhouse, a pub that has been known to serve draught Westmalle Dubbel by the pint, albeit not any time recently. Duo is a bright gold and completely clear. The aroma is unmistakably that of a golden Belgian ale, exuding fruit and flowers in colourful abundance. It leans fully into that in the flavour, almost too much so, with oodles of very ripe melon, pear, lychee and similar pale and sweet juicy fruits. This is perfumed up with lavender and jasmine top notes, plus a sprinkling of Westmalle Tripel's pithy spices.

It has been a while since I last drank either of the component beers, but this did not seem at all like a compromise between them. The dilution of the alcohol has not in any way diluted the taste. Draught serving also results in a lighter carbonation, which may be why the flavour seems so pronounced. There's also plenty of slick and smooth body to give it a long and luxurious finish.

My assumption that this is a slightly cynical attempt at extending Westmalle's share of throat (shudder) remains, but it is still a superb beer. It's perfect for that one last one of the night, when you want the big flavour and the heft, and maybe there's nothing suitable in the venue's small-pack selection. I don't know how many Irish pubs will be willing to keep a 7.2% ABV on draught, though. I wish we could fix that.

American things

Wicklow Wolf has always been a westward-looking brewery, taking its initial influence from Colorado in particular. Today's quartet of beers are their first for 2025, and they're exploring other parts of the North American continent and its related beer styles.

You don't see many California commons brewed these days, and I think this may be Wicklow Wolf's first. It's called Pacific Heights, and is 4.9% ABV. It's an attractive clear golden, looking very lager-like, in a classy way. There's a surprising sweetness at the front of the flavour, all perfume and fruit-flavoured candy. I found it a little strange that this was set on a clean lager-like base: the two don't work very well together. California common should be crisp, not floral, with a crunch of crackers. That's missing from this one, which instead goes for estery fruit, with overtones of cherry, banana and rum cocktails. I'm not a fan. The flavours would work in a big and bold beer. In one that's trying to be subtle and modest, they're a distraction. We may not get many California commons, but we haven't forgotten how they taste, and this one doesn't fit in. I'm not a fan of the warm, headachey alcohol vapours on offer here.

A west coast IPA should clean things up nicely, and next is Next Stop, named after the east coast. Err... It's only 5.8% ABV, which gives me one point to question the stylistic fidelity, and it's hazy too: a pale kellerbier yellow. The hops are Simcoe, Citra, Amarillo and Columbus, and that gives it a bright and zesty aroma. There's a decently big and soft texture -- more than I would have expected from the strength -- and the hops pile into the foretaste with Citra leading the charge, all lime and grapefruit. Style purists may object that the bitterness is dialled back, and it's not especially sharp. Pine and dank don't feature, either, so the citrus is your lot. I enjoyed it, though. The summery zest is enough for a beer that isn't particularly strong or blousey. You get your money's worth from the hops regardless. This is just the sort of boldly flavoured American-style IPA that made Wicklow Wolf's name back in the early days. It's good that they're still at it.

A second pair followed hot on the heels of those two, and I'm starting with Cliff Walk, a hazy IPA, and a light one at only 5% ABV. From the date on the base it looks like this had been in the can three days when I opened it, and the benefit of drinking this sort of beer fresh was hammered home by the aroma: a powerful blend of citrus and sterner green vegetables. That bold mix is very much present in the flavour too, dominated by an acidity which suggests raw hop pellets, loaded up with bitter herbs, spinach and pine. It does run the risk of seeming dreggy, but the pure hop flavour cuts through the grit and keeps it out of the way. Those in search of juice from their murky IPA are made to wait a few seconds before the satsuma or tangerine emerges to feature in the finish. Although some softer vanilla creeps in as it warms, the aggressive bittering never quite goes away, leaving a strong impression of west-coast IPA, counter-intuitively. Regardless, it's a banger, and well worth grabbing as soon as you can because I very much doubt it will improve with age.

That arrived with Off Script, described as a West Coast Pilsner (see my recent thoughts on such terminology) and brewed with German hop variety Tango and a descendent of both Hersbrucker and Strata, named Audacia. 5.6% ABV makes it today's second-strongest beer, yet it is worryingly pale, and completely transparent, resembling an American light lager more than anything. There's a vague and slightly sweaty lemon zest aroma, which isn't especially enticing, and the flavour is mild too. A hint of onion is perhaps the most prominent characteristic, but it's still no more than a hint. Behind it there's a sweet 7-Up mix of lemon and lime extract, flashing briefly before fading out. The saviour of this beer is the texture, that big gravity giving it a full and chewy mouthfeel that makes it very satisfying to drink even if the flavour isn't up to much. Much like the Kinnegar one from a few weeks ago, I can't say I got much West Coast character from it, however.

I guess there's more stylistic leeway with IPAs compared to California common or pilsner, as long as you get the fundamentals right. Next Stop and Cliff Walk are commended to anyone who likes their beer with a pronounced hop character. Off Script offers lager lovers a certain clean yet weighty charm. I don't know who the other one is for, however.

Widening appeal

Two new beers from Wide Street today, and something of a departure. The brewery specialises in wild fermentation, barrel-ageing and blending, but these are both straight-up (ish) takes on more controlled beer styles. The funky stuff isn't for everyone (though it should be) so I guess this is the brewery trying to appeal to less adventurous drinkers. If that's what it takes to get the koelschip full now and again, then it's fine with me.

The year's first warm evening on the patio brought me Summer in Siam, a witbier. It's on the light side at only 4.3% ABV, and they've skipped the coriander and orange peel, hoping to get their combined effect from lemongrass instead. In the glass it's a sickly-looking greenish-yellow, though the head is properly white and fluffy. A bit of a farty whiff suggests that the yeast is properly Belgian, at least. Before I could get to the flavour, I was already disappointed by the texture. Beneath that fluffy foam it's not a fluffy beer, and from the first pull was unfortunately thin and fizzy. You do get your money's worth from the lemongrass: it tastes very much of it, clear and green and herbal, with a lacing of citric acidity. There's dry rasp from the grain and then it all tails off abruptly. I guess it's meant to be easy-drinking refreshment, but I think it needs to be sweeter for that. This is quite a pointy and severe witbier, rather than a fun one. The lemongrass is a highlight but it doesn't have much else going for it, I thought.

Its sibling is a hazy IPA called Midnight in a Perfect World, a collaboration with Trouble Brewing. If the witbier was no oil painting, this one is even uglier: the orangey-beige of an earwax smear. Luckily the aroma smells fresh and clean, of lemon candy and vanilla. The murk reasserts itself in the flavour: it is extremely dreggy, tasting like a full glassful of the bottom of the keg. I'm sure all of that did wonders for my vitamin B levels, but I didn't enjoy the ingestion. I can't tell you anything very much about the Motueka and Nelson Sauvin hops' contribution to the taste because that's buried under a loud layer of earth, grit and leafy bitterness. While it's stronger than the previous one at 5.4% ABV, it still seems very thin, like the witbier, though not as fizzy. I hope I just got a bad can and that the whole batch wasn't this mucky.

This pair really didn't do it for me, and I don't think I can place the blame on them not being in the brewery's usual fun and funky area of work. Neither represents their respective mainstream style at all well. A bit of bugs 'n' Brett would have benefitted either.