CoolHead look

Today's random exotic picks from the off licence are all by the Helsinki brewery CoolHead.

They wear their hearts on their sleeves with an IPA called Best Coast Forever, overtly claiming affiliation with the bitter west-coast style and using classic US hops of Simcoe, Centennial and Mosaic. All that said, it is a most unAmerican 5% ABV, and poured rather murky, so can't boast the pin-bright gold or amber of the style's classic examples. The haze adds a level of fuzz to the mouthfeel, making it seem quite heavy. After an initial flash of sharp lime and grapefruit, it settles out to a more chewy and sedate sort of beer, its cereal heft more similar to how English IPA behaves. Similarly, the initial hop rush becomes becalmed quite quickly, softening from raw pith to sweetened marmalade. I don't know that I would have claimed American credentials for it, but it is an enjoyable beer; spritzy and cleansing in a way that's very out of fashion for IPA at the moment, but much missed.

The ABV increases to a pokier 6.5% for the next one, called Nova. They say this is a "modern" take on west-coast IPA, because the Idaho 7 hops were added in DynaBoost™ and Cryo forms, in addition to Simcoe and Mosaic. Does that make it a better beer? This one is paler but still a little hazed up. There's less of a hop flavour, and I'm sure that wasn't the intention from using the proprietary tech. What's there is a dry, rasping grapefruit rind effect. It's quite abrasive and, despite the extra strength, there's no extra malt to help soften the smack. This definitely does have an authentic west-coast feel, and is particularly akin to the sharper and paler examples -- I was never as much of a fan of those. Although it's clean, the hop oils do sit on the tongue somewhat, giving it a long finish and aftertaste of dank resins. I hope the vocabulary of this review is pressing the buttons of any west coast aficionados reading, because this is very much in their wheelhouse, even if I found it a smidge too overweening.

I needed a palate-cleanser after that, and CoolHead is offering me a "nordic sour" with Ginger Sour. All of these three were consumed al fresco on a warm day, and I thought this one in particular was aimed at such a context. It's only 4% ABV but pours a dense-looking carrot-juice orange. It smells of bready ginger cake, and the sourness makes itself felt in the foretaste: tangy, acidic, and just stopping short of harsh. The ginger arrives in shortly afterwards, and it's the raw, shredded sort found in Chinese cookery as it's practised round my way. The mixture of tartness and spice works rather well, both providing their own sort of invigorating scrub for the palate and throat. Like the first IPA, it is surprisingly robustly textured, a sugar weight making it taste a bit like Canada Dry-type ginger ale, where there's a generous amount of sugar accompanying the spice. I wouldn't say that this is the light refresher I was expecting. Instead, it's more of a full-on culinary experience, to be sipped and savoured. It's nicely done.

The sour one was my favourite of those three, though I was charmed by the first IPA and challenged pleasantly by the second. CoolHead may not always brew beer to my taste, but they're always well-made and interesting.

Look to the skies

I don't often get to do cross-brewery sets of lager reviews, but I have one today, with new lagers from two of Ireland's most reputable producers.

Cloudless from The White Hag says "ice cold lager" on the can, but it wasn't that in my house; my beer fridge runs between 8 and 10°C -- there's no hiding place for off-flavours in there. Poured, it's a startling pale and clear colour, looking every bit like the wan and watery industrial American lagers it is presumably copying. The aroma is crisp and grainy, with a little bit of richer malt sweetness. The carbonation is busy, even though the head isn't much cop. By design, I'm sure, there isn't much flavour. The hops are so understated that I couldn't even tell you what region of the world is represented. German noble varieties? They could equally be American, they're so indistinct. That leaves us with the malt from the aroma, and it's tokenistic: a slightly Czech-like golden-syrup sweetness at the very beginning, but fading quickly to a mild lemon tang and then no aftertaste. I can see why the brewery wants it poured cold, but it does bear a warmer serving temperature, to get at least some character into it. I can't complain that it's not as advertised, but whoever they've formulated it for, it's not me.

Third Barrel scored some plaudits from me for their Hello Yes? Czech-style lager late last year. When the brewer likes lager, you get good lager. Waterloo Sunset is the first one they've released since then, and is on a New Zealand theme, although that doesn't seem to be anything more involved than the use of Motueka hops. Appearance-wise, it's a very different proposition to the Cloudless, being a rich, almost red, golden colour, with a light misting of haze. The aroma is sweetly tropical, mixing mango and guava in a most un-pilsner-like way. It's quite heavily-textured, and very much not the crisp and refreshing sort of lager; it's more of a chewer, even at only 4.8% ABV. Fruit candy is the opening flavour, followed quickly by a very serious herbal rasp, dry and acidic, with noble notes of nettle and spinach. The aftertaste is an assertive waxy bitterness. It wasn't quite what I was expecting -- I guess I over-associate the New Zealand descriptor with Nelson Sauvin, and this has nothing in common with a Nelson-forward beer. It is good as its own thing, however, showing plenty of character from both malt and hops. It's maybe a little on the sweet side and perhaps shows more in common with a modern pale ale than a classic pilsner, but we can allow such missteps from time to time.

Two very different takes on pale lager on display here. I don't think either is entirely to my taste. I appreciated the technical skill in The White Hag's one, and the punchy hops of Third Barrel's. I would have liked one's crispness with the other's flavour. Maybe I should have blended them.

The clearer the belter

It's Whiplash again. A note of appreciation, first of all, for their tendency to release new beers in groups rather than trickling them out one at a time. It makes hunting them down that much easier. And hunt them down I did.

Something light to kick us off: Nine Storey Pagoda, a sour ale of 3.8% ABV, brewed with pineapple and Thai basil, created in collaboration with Dublin restaurant Big Fan. There was a time, not long ago, when such a proposition would have seemed exotic and exciting. Now it's just "of course there's one of these in the set, let's see how they did," so let's see how they did. The opaque yellow colour and short-lived head are fairly normal, and the aroma is very much as advertised, introducing a measure of non-specific tropical fruit plus a stronger herbal greenness. I don't think I would have been able to identify the specifics unaided, however. The texture is heavier than I expected, but it still has enough of a tartness early on to give it the refreshing quality which I think it was designed for. A savoury saline tang follows the initial sour kick, and then the fruit and herbs land on the palate simultaneously, though not necessarily in a complementary way. Syrupy pineapple and oily basil leaf might work well together in food but didn't work for me in a beer. It's jarring and a bit busy. I certainly wouldn't recommend this as a restaurant beer. It's an interesting novelty and no more than that.

Of course, this post is going to be mostly about hoppy stuff, and that commences with Flowers and You, a pale ale. It is indeed very pale, a wan yellow shade, and very heavily murked. The hops aren't specified, and they're not terribly prominent in the aroma, offering a slight peachy tropicality, but next to a worrying dry chalk dust effect. Both are present in the flavour, but neither seeks to dominate. There's a little stonefruit element, given an oily herbal backing of eucalyptus or aniseed, and then a tongue-coating rasp of plasterboard or flint. The finish is that hot, leafy, hop-dreg thing which tends to signify either the end of the barrel or an achingly hip beer, this being the latter, of course. It's only 4.5% ABV and that does mean that all flavours, good and bad, aren't especially strong. Regardless, it's still something of a clichéd haze disaster, showcasing features which have somehow become acceptable, nay desirable, to a beer-drinking public with degenerate tastes. What're ya gonna do?

Raising the oompf to 4.8% ABV brings us to Under the Eaves, one of those beaten-egg coloured hazy pale ales. I liked the sound of the advertised hop combination of Cascade, Simcoe and Vic Secret, and the aroma has that resinous pine-herb effect I would expect, though more than a hint of disturbing chalk as well. It's silky smooth and barely carbonated; heavily textured and very easy to drink. The front flavour is an almost west-coast citrus bite, but the New England character asserts itself quickly, adding mandarin segments and apricot. I don't know which of the three hops is responsible for that. And then there's the dreggy murk, teaming up annoyingly with the harder bittering to make the beer hotter and harsher than a pale ale of this strength ought to be. So, it's haze-compromised for sure, but I still enjoyed it. The lively hops do enough to keep things fun and hold the nasty grit in check. Vic Secret: my hero.

Paying tribute to Dublin's coolest neighbourhood (at least according to our fair city's estate agents), The Batter is described by the brewery as "Italo Disco Pils". It's 5.2% ABV and hopped with an all-noble combination of Saaz, Hersbrucker, Perle and Saphir. Pale to the point of appearing white-gold, it's faintly misted with haze and shows very little head retention after an initially frothy pour. I expect Italian-style pils to smell of American hops, and this does indeed have a lemony element which could well be some Pacific variety. It goes more herbal on tasting, with sweet coriander and fennel up front, then a gentler bitter lemongrass effect on the end. All is subtle and genteel, buoyed up by a body that's full without seeming heavy. The name and style may be banter-tastic, but the beer is refined and classy, adding some entertaining modern hop twists on a very classic continental lager. No doubt it won't be around long, so catch it if you see it.

And we're back on the haze again with Hybrid Moments, another murky yellow one, though looking a little thinner than the previous pale ale. This is an American-style wheat ale, 5.5% ABV and hopped with El Dorado and Comet. The big stack of foam on top fades quickly, so the initial weissbier impression was short lived. There's not much aroma, but I got a slightly eye-watering nutmeg spice and a hint of stonefruit beneath. The wheaty texture is the first impression it gives on tasting, beautifully soft and smooth, the carbonation no more than strictly necessary. I was expecting bigger hops, however. What's there is rather savoury, suggesting basil and thyme, with a slightly meaty or sweaty tang. A bit of lemon? Yes, but just a bit. While this is easy drinking stuff, and inoffensive, it's not the first time this year I expected rather more wallop from a Whiplash beer. Top marks for mouthfeel is a poor consolation prize.

Possibly intended as a companion to Under the Eaves, released in the same tranche, is Above the Clouds. I'm well used to Whiplash's "west coast" IPAs turning out hazy, and this is no exception, my fingers only blurrily visible through a glass of it. Columbus is the only American classic hop involved; otherwise it's Kiwis Nelson Sauvin and Nectaron. Unsurprisingly, that gives it a strongly tropical aroma: softly sweet, like ripe mango and honeydew melon. It's a dense affair, and I was surprised by the viscous resistance of the first pull. I guess that shouldn't be surprising at 6.8% ABV, though I know Whiplash can do such things with a lightness of touch. This is a firmer stroke, and with the weight comes a boozy heat. It doesn't have any crystal malt, but there's an echo of that kind of sweeter depth from the copious amounts of Caramalt and Munich which seem to have been employed. All of that has muted the hops a little, unfortunately. There's still a measure of Nelson's unmistakable brambly mineral sharpness, and a certain pithy citrus, but not the fleshy tropical fruit of the aroma. After the initial confusion, I made my peace with it. This does present most of the things a drinker would want from a west-coast IPA: big of substance, booze you can feel, and hopping which is piquant, edging onto aggressive. I've taken us a roundabout route with this one but it's very good: a delightful slice of hefty hop fun.

In search of a conclusion, it shouldn't be a surprise that the two clearer beers were my favourites. I know for a fact that Whiplash can do murky without the muck, so it was disappointing to find that telltale dregginess in several of these. And since nobody else seems to be calling it out, that's up to me.

Are you there, Nelson?

The contemporary beer scene has made me quite sceptical when it comes to the words "West Coast" on a label. So many of them turn out to be hazy in contravention of the laws of decency that I'm buying them almost as much to be cross about them as to enjoy drinking them. So it was a very pleasant surprise to find that Strata x Nelson Sauvin West Coast IPA from Latvian brewery Ārpus was not only clear, but pilsner-pale too, an appearance I associate most with Ballast Point Sculpin from the good old days, though I'm sure plenty of equally attractive IPAs existed on the West Coast around the same time. 

From the aroma I wasn't sure if the Nelson was in tropical-fruit mode, or if it was being drowned out by the peach and mango of the Strata, but either way, it smells nicely tropical, if a little muted for a beer wearing its hops as its name. The mouthfeel is full and thick, more than one might expect for 6.5% ABV, with only a light sparkle of carbonation. Strata's stonefruit is where the flavour begins but it quickly turns bitterer, as befits the style, though the Kiwi hopping means that's expressed as grass and flint rather than grapefruit and pine. There's an invigorating punch to it, balanced well by a golden syrup malt sweetness, a by-product of the heavy texture. For all that, the finish is a bit too quick, with no palate-coating resins. Marks for being proper West Coast, then, though it's not an excellent example. I'm especially disappointed I didn't get the full Nelson Sauvin effect I was after, however. 

Maybe I'd have better luck with TDH Riwaka x Nelson x Citra x Mosaic IPA: four hops, but at least they're triple dry, whatever that means. We're very much back in the haze zone here: pale yellow again, but totally opaque. Surprisingly, this does have more Nelson character than the previous, that beautiful mix of diesel and grapes, conjuring happy memories of the cheapest white wine on the menu. Mwah! There's a certain amount of your typical New England IPA flavours -- vanilla especially -- but nothing off or unpleasant; not so much as a smear of nasty garlic. The hops, triple dry or not, arrive in orderly fashion, with light and summery honeydew melon followed swiftly by a sterner lemon zest which lasts long into the finish. Where was that when we were on the West Coast?

It's all pretty straightforward but highly enjoyable nonetheless. If all hazy IPAs presented their hops so brightly and cleanly, I would be much more on board with the style. Oddly, while the previous one seemed heavy at 6.5% ABV, this is light at the same strength. The world turned upside down. Oh yeah. New Zealand. Right.

Neither delivered the high-octane kerosene or passionfruit cocktail that I had hoped for, but I still had a good time with them. Ārpus knows how to do IPA with balance and cleanliness in a way that I feel I need to call out because it's much rarer than it ought to be.

Littlest Italy

I don't have a proper entry for The Session this month. David Jesudason is hosting, with the perfectly legitimate topic of pub food. Unfortunately, it's not something I have much interest in or knowledge of. I suspect that it's because pubs and food have much less of a connection in Ireland. We have the gastropubs and the carveries, of course: ideas which were imported from the neighbouring island but don't have any organic history here. Authentic Irish pub food is the toastie and the bag of crisps, and I'm not much of a consumer of either. So I'm flipping the topic. Instead of pubs and food, I'm doing a restaurant with beer. I would say that restaurants with good beer are probably more common than pubs with good food.

And my favourite place to eat in Dublin? That's Zero Zero pizza on Sundrive Road. The menu is short and to the point -- pizza done in an unfussy, high-quality way -- and the space is bijou, making very efficient and comfortable use of the room at the back of what is essentially a takeaway. What gives it the edge is that it's very close to my house, in an area that is short of catering options for an inner southside neighbourhood. The name, in case you're wondering, comes from the amount of effort required of me to go out and eat there.

And there's beer! A much better selection than you might expect from such an establishment. Hopfully featured for as long as it existed, but at time of writing there's still Whiplash's Body Riddle and two types of Brugse Zot in the fridge, plus Brooklyn's Special Effects as the non-alcoholic option (hello Four Corners!). Three well-known Italian industrial beers are also stocked, including one I had never tried before.

I didn't think to check where my bottle of Menabrea La 150° Bionda came from. The inexplicable fashion for retro-styled Mediterranean lagers has meant that its distributor, C&C, recently moved production for the UK to its brewery in Glasgow. I don't know if the beer I drank came from the heritage brewery in Piedmont, or Scotland, or if we get an Irish version from C&C's local brewery in Clonmel.

Anyway: it's rather good. OK, I wasn't expecting much, but there's a weighty quality to this, which put me in mind of good Czech lager. While those tend to have a golden syrup malt effect, this is more like honey: a thicker sweetness overlaid with a floral complexity. The hops are an afterthought, but they're real and present, adding a lightly green Germanic note of fresh spinach and raw celery. I'm impressed by how much is going on in a 4.8% ABV pale lager, and the heft of it does make it a good match for pizza. The only gripe I have is the 33cl bottle. All of its competitors have a larger serving option, and this one should too.

Anyway, that was an extra nice surprise, on top of the original one that there's somewhere decent in Kimmage to eat dinner these days. No toasties required.

Ellen and Arthur

I hadn't planned on being back in Open Gate quite so soon, but the offer of a new imperial stout was enough to tempt me in. And I found out about it because they've finally got round to updating their online menu. Hooray and ker-ching!

It helped also that the beer is Islay-cask-aged, having been created to celebrate the, er, 201st anniversary of Diageo's distillery at Port Ellen. They've called it The 200, for the sake of neatness. It's a dense black colour with a fine crema on top. The aroma is light on peat but includes lots of toasty roast, suggesting a serious and grown-up taste to come.

So the rather sweet flavour was a surprise. I got an odd but fun mix of dark chocolate with summer fruit -- raspberry and cherry. There's a kind of truffle or praline quality to it; hella classy. The smoke is there, but easy to miss if you aren't looking for it, manifesting as a lightly salty, iodine-laced seaside savouriness. That gives it even more the manner of something shiny and expensive from an especially creative high-end chocolatier.

At a mere 9% ABV and served ice cold, it misses the weighty and satisfying character of big imperial stout. It's pretty good as a lightweight, though. I'll take a quality gimmick-free imperial stout whenever it comes my way.

The Tallaght strategy

It's a miracle! Though perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that a brewery called Priory, with a comprehensively Catholic theme running across its branding, should be the one that managed to pull a Lazarus act.

We last saw this microbrewery in the south Dublin suburb of Tallaght on these pages in June 2019. "An ambitious set of plans" is what I noted. I don't know how far advanced those got before Covid shut the whole thing down, and with the overall decline in Irish microbrewing, I wasn't expecting to see them back. The announcement in 2023 that the building which houses the brewery -- a café and a lot of empty space when I visited in 2019 -- would be transformed into an indoor food market didn't do much to change my mind. Dublin has serious form on failed indoor food market projects. If it can't be done in the city centre, what chance of doing it in Tallaght? And besides, craft beer is over, and it would be such a 2015 move to put a microbrewery in a food hall.

Nevertheless, the Priory Market project rolled on and, in late June 2025, it opened its doors to the hungry public, the offer including Priory Brewing reborn as a "tank bar" on the site. I went along on the first weekend, genuinely not expecting much. Usually, the brewery and the beer range is the last part of the project to get delivered, if it ever does. I was surprised by what I found.

The food hall was thronged, and all the stalls seemed to be doing brisk business, though without the excessive queues you get at events which don't have their catering logistics in order. Down the back, opposite two outlying food stalls, is the bar. I found perching space across from the window which looks into the production brewery.

Tank means tank, and there are four of them behind the bar, from which beer is poured directly. Original Sin, the flagship IPA, and Venial Sin, its session-strength sibling, have made a return and are two of them. I started with one of the new beers, Helles Fire. This is no still-fermenting murk: the bright tank has left it bright; a perfectly clear golden colour. It's a little light on its feet at 4.3% ABV though I appreciated the cold pour -- 3.3°C according to the readout on the vessel. So it was definitely thirst-quenching, and while it's fairly plain, there is enough of a gentle spongecake sweetness to pass. The finish is as clean as the beer looks, with nary a hint of the off flavours that can bedevil small-batch lagers, and a nicely crisp grain bite on the end. It may be unexciting, but it's very technically proficient. Time and money has been spent on getting it right, and I could taste that.

Also new from the tanks was Atonement, a pale ale. This is in the old American style, a deep amber colour and packed out with crystal malt, contrasting with sharp US hops. A fruit candy aroma leads to a toffee-first flavour, although it's light at 4.5% ABV, and not at all sticky. There's a tannic note as a reminder that English bitter is a close relation, and a touch of crisp roast to help dry it out. The hop tang is a little bit lemonade and a little bit aspirin; unsubtle and clashing with the malt side, I thought. The intention seems to be something like Sierra Nevada pale ale, but there's none of that one's perfumed subtlety. This time, the technical proficiency can't hide the issues with the underlying recipe.

But the tank bar has more than just tanks: there's a sizeable array of keg taps on the bar, all Priory-branded except for Whiplash's Slow Life, which seems to be covering them for a dark beer for now. My in-built cynicism couldn't help wondering if some or all of these were brewed elsewhere, but then why bother with the tanks if you're shipping beer in?

I had a half of Vice Beer, the 5% ABV weissbier. Here the brewery's tendency towards clarity is a little less appropriate, because there's none of the cloudiness that has been this style's hallmark since before anyone in New England thought to make an IPA. That seems to have added a sharpness to it, manifesting initially in the slightly hot butane aroma. And while there's banana in the flavour, it's greenly acidic, which isn't unpleasant, but is quite different from the soft and sweet effect one normally gets. The hops are more pronounced than usual, with a bite of celery and pak choi. It's a valid take on the style, reminding me of the crisper, pointier, sort of weizen from north German breweries, and Flensburger in particular. If that's your particular vice, jump in. I prefer the more cuddly Bavarian take, however.

And we finish on yet another central European style: pilsner. Impeccable was also on the keg lines and arrived slightly hazy. Freshness was very much in evidence here, the aroma giving faint but persistent cut grass, like the patio doors are open and the lawn outside has just been mown. Though only 4.7% ABV it has a satisfyingly chewy texture and that adds extra punch to the noble hops, flourishing outwards into a whole bouquet of garden herbs, with basil and rosemary the ones I noticed most. Despite the density, this is still an excellent warm-day refresher and mid-session palate scrubber, and again remarkably free of flaws for a newly-created brewpub lager. Since they can do pils well, nothing else should be a problem.

I didn't revisit their double IPA, and the red ale will have to wait to next time. On the menu but not yet pouring were a stout and a bock, and there was a tap badge for a sour ale which had also yet to materialise. The ambition is incredible for an Irish brewpub but they really do seem to have the ability to pull it off. I hope the momentum stays with them and that they get the kind of local support which seems to be keeping the Rascals taproom blazing. This taproom is a new and rare jewel in Dublin's beer scene and I dearly want to see it thrive.