Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Edinburgh

This town is hard on the feet with its many steep inclines and cobbled streets, but that is all the more justification for stopping off, resting your weary legs and having a restorative pint of life giving ale. This is not as straight forward as it might seem because pubs serving craft beer are few and far between. True, most pubs of the older style have a cask or two on, but invariable it is the rather disappointing Deuchar's IPA which just doesn't make the grade. In cask this beer is a mere 3.8% abv and rather insipid, and doesn't provide what the slightly stronger bottled version offers. The Deuchar's 80/- is also quite common and fills the need for a mild dark beer, should it come upon you. A little of bit of footwork might result in stumbling upon some Deuchars XPA which is slightly stronger, much more satisfying on the hop front and the best of Deuchar's offerings.

Thankfully there are a number of dedicated real ale free houses in the city, one of which, The Bow Bar, was 60 seconds from my hotel room, though I didn't know this at the time of booking. A nice treat and one I took advantage of because there were eight casks on tap, and I wasn't strictly in Edinburgh on a beer holiday, but managed to nip out to this wonderful bar with ease. An interesting aspect of this bar was the compressed air powered Aitken dispense system. I was very curious about this system because when I ordered my own beer and watched others being served, I noted that a pint glass was filled very rapidly, and vast amounts of beer were splashed from the glass into the spill tray. It appeared terribly wasteful to me until I got a quiet moment to query the land lady and discovered that the dispense is a traditionally Scottish one, where the beer that spills to the tray can be re-dispensed from a storage vessel with a capacity of around half a litre. Upon pouring, the bar staff flick a switch under the bar to activate the pumps and then turn the lever to release the beer. The lever position allows the bar staff to determine how much beer stems from the cask and how much from the return tray. I was informed that the optimal combination is 70% cask and 30% tray return, with the last switch of the lever introducing a degree of turbulence to bring a head to the beer. I imagine the the need for the return tray dispense system is required because of the aggressive initial pour from the tap rather than the reported Scottish tendency for thrift.

There were eight ales on offer in The Bow Bar, but the highlight for me was Timothy Taylor's Landlord, a beer I had heard a great deal about and wondered if it could possibly live up to expectation. The short answer is yes it did. It proved to be have the juiciest malt of any ale I have tried which was balanced perfectly with fruity hops and bitterness. I was tempted to sample a great many more Landlord but moved on to some of the other offerings. Hydes 1863 Classic Bitter 3.4% couldn't have been more different to Landlord being rather bland and unsatisfying. Guzzler 3.6% from the York Brewery and William's Joker 5% offered more, both having a punchy hop character and much more satisfying than most of the golden ales available. White Boar Bitter provided a far drier and more satisfying finish than the other bitter on offer, all of which can be rounded off by the only dark ale on offer, the porterish Blackcat 3.4% from the Moorehouse Brewery.

The next pub of interest was The Blue Blazer, situated uncomfortably close to a trio of seedy looking strip clubs which I have been told is locally referred to the 'pubic triangle' or 'triangle of sin', but the clientèle within were a far cry from the punters associated with the aforementioned type of establishment. Quiets games of Scrabble were a feature of this place, which suited me down to the ground while I supped upon a pint of Pivo Estivo 3.9% from the Kelburn Brewery. This was an example of another assertively hopped golden ale, with plenty of citrus hops but its thin body made me grow tired of it and I moved on to the Lord Kelvin Centennial of the Strathaven Brewery, a coffeeish malty brew, but very sweet after the hoppy ale beforehand. In keeping with all the pubs we visited on this trip, the bar staff we chatty and enthusiastic about the beer they served. The woman serving at the Blue Blazer guided me through the beers on offer and engaged with me in some debate on the sparkler issue. It seems that the predilection for sparkler dispensed cask ale traverses the border with Northern England and has firmly established itself in Scotland. Almost all pubs use them, and the landlady at the Blue Blazer was evangelical, sharing with me her disappointment at being served a flat headless pint when she visits London. Sadly, I couldn't debate with her terribly well being starved of cask beer in Ireland, but I must admit that I am growing fond of sparkled cask ale for much the same reason this lady liked it; texture and mouthfeel.

A short walk from The Blue Blazer will find you at Cloisters Bar, by far the busiest of the free houses, but we chanced upon a seat and settled in to sample some of the 9 real ales on offer. Chatting with the bar staff proved more difficult here, but advice was on offer as well as a taste before purchase, which all of the best free houses provide. My first beer, at the suggestion of the barman, was Tradewinds 4.3% of the Cairngorm Brewery, yet another straw pale ale with plenty of citrus hops which was initially satisfying, but once again the body was lacking and the beer just gave up on me half way through the glass. This seemed to be a common theme among golden ales and grew tiresome, resulting in a hankering for a pint of satisfying Landlord, which was also available in this bar. But I pressed on, grabbing a glass of Cosmic 4.2% from the Black Hole Brewery in Burton, dispensed from a tap sporting a novelty looking clip, and giving the familiar sulphurous nose of beers from the Burton region. It proved to be more satisfying than the golden ales, having more body and a good malt measure.

The beer available in Edinburgh's pubs seems to travel great distances to please the Scottish beer lover, and I strangely tasted my first Welsh beer while there. I knew I was asking for trouble when I ordered it, because an IPA at 3.8%, whatever the debate of style definitions, is going to be a dodgy pint. And so it proved with Welsh Mountain IPA from the Great Orne Brewery. There was little or no hop contribution and was generally insipid, though the worst criticism for this beer came from my fiancee who said, 'it's like beer watered down'. Coming from a dedicated Bud Lite drinker this is harsh criticism indeed. And so on to what seems to be common aspect of my travel articles; a green beer. My last trip out of the country to Prague turned up a green beer made with nettles and so too this trip presented one. There were no nettles in Edinburgh, but the beer was greener than the last one and it came from Wiltshire. Sign of Spring from the Stonehendge Brewery proved quite popular with the locals, which was understandable perhaps because it tasted of little and had a certain novelty appeal. I couldn't detect anything in it which would account for the green colour, and it was forgettable aside for its curious hue.

Along with cask ales, most of the free houses carried taps for other quality imported beers such as Pilsner Urquell and surprisingly, Budvar Dark. If you find the right pub there is a real appreciation for beer in all forms and much pleasure to be had chatting with the helpful and enthusiastic staff. Coupled with this are the off licenses which have reasonable selection of beer, but it seems to me that the real beer treats are to found in a chain of shops called The Whisky Store where I chanced upon numerous Scottish ales and, much to my excitement, some Brew Dog Paradox Stout which had been aged in Scotch whisky barrels before bottling. Overall, while a great many of the cask ales available proved to be a disappointment, there is enough to keep the average beer lover busy in Edinburgh and much can be learned from the helpful staff of the free houses around the city.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Tullibardine Update

My recent trip trip to Edinburgh turned up some more information the Tullibardine 1488 Whisky Ale I posted about a while back. From chatting from a whisky tour guide and reading some information I brought back, I have discovered that there was a brewery on the site of the distillery around 500 years ago. Nowadays it is considered a very progressive distillery offering interesting finishes to its whiskies by placing the spirit in unusual casks for a period before bottling and their whisky cask aged beer seems to be part of this progressive attitude.

To set The Beer Nut's mind at ease I can inform him that the beer is brewed in Blackford, Perthshire though why this can't be added to the bottle instead of a rather barren looking postcode is beyond me.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Northern Lights

My trip to Edinburgh turned up a few interesting bottled beers that I bought from off licenses, but curiously the best of them came from a whisky shop. I did feel a little strange leaving a whisky shop with an armful of ale when there were so many malts on offer, but fear not, I did sample some wonderful whisky, the highlight of which was a collection of 20 year old single malts. I learned a great deal about whisky while there, and even tried a blended whisky that had been finished in an ale cask. I couldn't detect any ale, and I figured if there was any ale flavour to be had I'd pick it up.

The Orkney Brewery features quite prominently in these shops, but my experience of their wares did not go beyond Skullsplitter which I recall being a a very satisfying strong beer, so I was quite surprised to see a 3.4% golden ale on the shelf by the same brewery because my limited experience of Scottish beer led me to expect more of the Skullsplitter variety. Raven Ale proved to be a eminently drinkable golden ale with a very curious and satisfying mealy malt character.
The second of their beers was also a golden ale. Northern Light is zestier than Raven Ale, more hop driven but with good juicy malt to back it up. I tried a number of cask golden ales while in Edinburgh's free houses, but all lacked the malt support that this beer gives, resulting in a disappointing beer that gave up the ghost long before the end of the glass. I also found some much anticipated Brew Dog Paradox Stout aged in whisky casks. Not only did I find this beer, but I found two editions, each aged in a different type of cask. But that's for another day and another post. It might be some time because I tend to save such beers for a quite a while.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Dark Side of the Brew Moon


I took a brief trip to Edinburgh last week which turned up a number of unexpected beer related treats. They were all the more pleasant because I didn't go with beer in mind for this trip, it being a birthday present to my fiancee who isn't really into the beer scene. An article will turn up shortly on the ICB website about the trip when the layabout Mods over there return from various holidays.

My beer this evening is Brew Moon's Dark Side (of the moon) stout. It's the first time I've come across it in Dublin, though their pale ale has been around a while. I know little about their set up but fell in love with them upon trying their pale ale because it was nice and hoppy, but mainly because the abv on most of the bottles was hand written on a sticker which had been placed over the pre printed abv figure on the label. I love the idea of the brewer arseing up his original or final gravity, but because they are a small set up they had no choice but to sell the stuff and conscripted some unfortunate staff member into hand writing the achieved abv on hundreds of bottles. They state on the bottle that 600 litres is the average batch size, which is positively homebrew like compared to the bigger boys. I suppose this another thing that draws me to them because it really seems like their beer is truly hand crafted.

Their stout comes in an unusually ample serving of 640ml, perhaps a unit conversion hangover from whatever units they use in New Zealand. At 6% abv it is certainly a hefty measure, and a little strange because it is bottle conditioned and impossible to pour in one go into any glass that I possess. This is not a major issue for a stout because yeast haze doesn't really feature, but it would be problematic for a paler beer. Perhaps they want us to share the bottle with a chum? Not bloody likely. It's a lovely drop and I want it all to myself. It's rich roasty stuff with warming alcohol, satisfying fullness and a tan head that won't go away.

Thursday, May 1, 2008

A shaky start but a strong finish

Boak and Bailey have asked us to think about when it all started for us beer-wise. When did we start drinking 'good' beer?

The first time I tasted a beer I really didn't like it. It was a sneaky sup of foam from the voluminous frothy head of my mother's glass of Guinness that she had unwittingly left lying around the house. It was nasty and intensely bitter to my 7 or 8 year old taste buds, and I couldn't fathom the slightest reason why she would willingly drink it. I've since learned that the head is always more harshly bitter than the body of the beer because hop compounds rise up with C02 and impregnate the foam. Perhaps if I had delved a little deeper into the glass my experience would have been different.


I'll jump along decade or so now and tell you about the first 'proper' beer I tried. My girlfriend of a few months, and now my wife to be, took a trip to Prague in 1999 and brought me back a Budvar gift pack containing two cans of the illustrious lager and a tall porcelain receptacle painted with jaunty looking fellows enjoying some of the local produce. I think I was supposed to drink from this, but really didn't like the idea of not being able to see the beer within. I still hold this prejudice today. Sadly this was another beer related assault on my tender taste buds. I thought it too bitter and struggled to enjoy it. I'll hold my hands up and admit that up to this point my beer tastes did not extend much beyond the macro produced fizzy yellow fluids that the student bar was knocking out on the cheap, so a true Bohemian hoppy lager was quite an assault on my palate. Still, it was good news for my Dad because he greedily finished of the remains of my can and dispatched with the remaining can just as deftly.


So, the Irish couldn't do it for me, and the Czechs fared little better. Who was to come along and rescue me from a life in the beer wilderness? Well, it was the Germans with their more approachable wheat beers sporting almost novelty like foam and a curious haziness. I recall an evening shortly after the Budvar affair when I insisted my girlfriend take a walk with me to one of the more progressive Dublin off licenses that stocked Erdinger. You see, while these more flavourful beers weren't exactly working out for me, I knew I had to persevere because a little voice told me that there were wonders to behold if only I could find the right beer to ease my way in. Erdinger proved to be that beer, and I still think that the more inoffensive wheat beers are the perfect gateway beer for neophytes because you have the sensation of drinking something completely different to your usual tipple, but it doesn't offend the senses too much. I got a little cocky however, and rather than progress to perhaps a Schneider or Paulaner weisse, I spied a bottle of Aventinus in Dublin's one craft beer pub and jumped right in. Needless to say I couldn't finish it, and I decided to take things a little easier from then on. An evening in Dublin's Porterhouse with a half German friend of mine proved to cement my love of beer. I tried a great many beers with him over a number of weeks and got to grips with numerous styles, but I knew the transition had been completed when, after a number of months seeking out and drinking exclusively craft beer, I tried a pint of my former favourite tipple and wondered where all the flavour had gone. I know now of course that there was little or no flavour there in the first place, but it was quite an eye opener and I realised I could never go back.


I brew my own now, and probably produce some of the most bitter beer in the country from my small kitchen brewery. I can't get enough of hop flavour, aroma and bitterness. Funny how things work out, isn't it?

Holy Hopfen Weisse

I was fortunate enough to try the Schneider-Brooklyner Hopfen Weisse collaboration the other week in the Bull and Castle during Knut Albert's brief visit to Ireland. In a typical B & C act of generosity two bottles of this beer was set upon the table for our pleasure. I enjoyed this small taster but the unusually large amount of sediment in the bottle made it hard to share out, and while I didn't get the worst of it, it was a little more nutritious than I am accustomed to. It was very pleasant, but I swore to myself that I would hunt down a bottle all of my own and try it in a slightly less yeasty state.

The beer proved easier to track down than I anticipated because I had been led to believe that it was a limited edition brew with a sparse supply hitting the Irish shores, but thankfully this does not appear to be the case, and I soon had a bottle all of my own.

The first thing that crossed my mind when I heard of this beer was how on earth the Americans sold the idea to the Germans. The Americans are at the very forefront of radical beer brewing so this concept would not be terribly strange to them, after all imperial IPAs and stouts are ten a penny in the States, but an imperial wheat beer is not something I had heard much about, let alone one which was aggressively dry hopped. On paper it looks like it shouldn't work at all, and as a traditionalist I must admit to being slightly horrified by the prospect, but it patently does work when you get to grips with the actual beer. Upon opening, the initial hiss of gas brought with it the unmistakable smell of bubblegum, an aroma I have heard described many times in reviews of wheat beers but never found myself. There was no mistaking it here, and it was one of many curious aromas emanating from the towering foam of this beer. It has a Jackel and Hyde like quality which causes the beer to catch you off guard with powerful dry hop aroma one moment swiftly switching to classic Bavarian wheat beer character.

Two other curiosities include the hugely understated alcohol content and the vast amount of sediment in the bottle. At 8.2% ABV one would expect a considerable kick, but it slips down the throat with nay a hint of the massive potential for intoxication it carries. The yeast content of the bottle seems excessive even for a wheat beer, but I managed to pour it reasonably well, making it resemble a more typical wheat beer rather than some of my earlier attempts at bottled home brew, which were more yeast than beer. All this seems perfectly fine to me though because such a unique beer is to be expected from the unlikely collaboration of these two master brewers. Let's hope that any future trans Atlantic collaborations are as successful as this one.