Enigmatic one

Kölsch. Surely the must elegant of beers. The most refined. Hence the fancy stemware. Apparently an ale but taste a lot like lager. Kind of lagery on the nose with a bit of sulphur and yeast. Pale as you like, with all the dryness and some of the fruitiness of white wine.

There is a certain aura around it; stories about Irish craft breweries falling foul of geographical protection law, begging to get permission to brew seasonal kölsch in Dublin. The tiny glasses it is served in in Cologne, carried around in purpose made trugs by slightly strange waiters who take their responsibility very seriously indeed all add to the intrigue.

Redeemer

Every so often a beer comes along that makes you sit up and pay attention. The experience of a deep draught catches you by surprise and induces you to hold the glass before you at arm's length and stare in slight bemusement. Thornbridge's Kipling invoked just such a reaction in me. Never have I smelled such a potent and promising hop bouquet coming from a glass. The smell of fresh tropical fruit was so satisfying that I doubted the flavour could back it up. It did. In spades. The malt is on a par with the hops for freshness and body creating a beer that was designed to be guzzled.

The golden hue was threaded with haze, a sight in the past usually attributed to age or poor storage and generally foretelling an unpleasant experience before the glass got near your mouth. It now suggests the polar opposite. Haze in a great many commercial craft beers and all home brew nowadays is invariably chill haze and suggests a light touch filtration. This is almost always a good thing; it means that no flavour has been stripped from the beer. While beer can still taste exceptional after filtration, eliminating it altogether leaves the beer in its natural state. Cask ale lives like this all the time of course, but it is becoming more prominent in bottled beer and some keg. The most important aspect is perhaps the drinking public's acceptance of beer throwing a slight haze. Sure, those who slug pints of lager purely for the neurochemical effects will still baulk at a hazy pint but the steadily growing cohort of craft beer lovers are not at all put off. It is almost reassuring to see haze, and many brewers wear the unfiltered badge with pride.

This beer is what craft brewing is all about. It tastes as much like beer as Bud Lite doesn't. That makes for quite an experience.

To the Darkside

It's always nice to find a twist in the mundane. I long ago started overlooking Krombacher Pils when gazing into pub fridges or perusing shop shelves. Many other lagers do exactly what it does and some of them do it much better. It makes me an ingrate I know, because at one time it was a welcome beer and I was happy to have it as an alternative to the macro lagers that swamped the Irish beerscape. The sight of the Krombacher label in dark ink grabbed my attention with precisely the equal but opposite degree of interest the pilsner label generates in my simple mind. We're quite well served for dark lager in Ireland. Budvar's is available, as is Köstritzer if you're lucky, not to mention the various more obscure ones found in the Czech Inn. Nonetheless, another is always welcome and Krombacher's proved to be very interesting, offering a little more than merely roasted notes on the back of an otherwise clean lager. I found lovely dark bread crust from the foam but more vinous alcoholic note in the mouth. Like rich cake with a hefty dose of dark spirit in it. It was surprise to find such dark ale like notes in a lager - perhaps they shouldn't be there at all, but it has certainly brought brand Krombacher back to my attention.

Limp Kiwi

When I glanced at this beer on the shelf I initially dismissed it on the strength of the 'west coast' printed on the label. I thought it to be another American pale ale of the hop driven variety, that while more than likely a satisfying drop, could be overlooked in favour of something a little more eclectic. But then the '1868' in smaller print caused me to reconsider what with the craft beer scene in the US being unable to claim such a vintage. Turns out this beer is from New Zealand and so perfectly fitted my whimsy for something a little different.



I might have done better to leave it on the shelf. The label boasts of burnt sugars and blackberry - which are there without doubt, particularly the blackberry, but the whole thing is weak and insipid and even looked worn out, not managing to retain the slightest bit of the wispy foam that I coaxed from it. A bit of a disappointment but not entirely unexpected. Beer from the southern hemisphere isn't renowned for its challenging flavour but I held out hope after my experience of Brew Moon a few years ago. It's all part of the fun when hunting beer.

One wants more flavour

Foolish notions of pouring the 'perfect pint' were beamed around the world this week thanks to the ever resourceful PR people at Diageo. It is unfortunate that such guff was attached to The Queen's visit but on the whole is was positive to see one of Ireland's traditional industries acknowledged, even if the brewing behind St James's Gate is carried out in a far from traditional way nowadays. The Queen seemed to look aghast at the pint as it was placed in front if her. No doubt the Diageo PR crew were willing with all their heart she might reach out, lift the pint and take a sip. But no. The reason for this may be many; it was a little early in the day, or perhaps she couldn't risk spilling any on her designer outfit. I know the real reason. She was disappointed that she was served a pint of very average ice cold nitrogenated stout when she in fact was hankering for a bottle of Foreign Extra off the shelf. Yes, that's the reason for her abstinence. There is no compare between the nitro pint in the pub and the full bodied, bitter roasted goodness of Guinness Foreign Extra. It seems that Guinness don't just do PR well, they can brew the odd decent beer too.

Hello old friend

In the past on my walk home from work I was fortunate to have the option of two off licences selling good beer in the days when good beer wasn't all that common in Dublin. Closest was Sweeney's, a small pleasant smelling shop with a vast amount of wine crammed in it and, for the time, an excellent selection of beer. I distinctly remember having my first conversation about craft beer - Sierra Nevada pale ale - with the bloke who worked there and was astounded that, firstly, he knew what SNPA was and secondly, he actually had an opinion about it. Sweeney's was a wonderful source of decent after work beer for a few years until the shop was closed and the business moved to a much larger, finer building a kilometre away, but sadly not on my work route. It was bitter sweet because while I was irked by the removal of a very handy supply of good beer, the new shop expanded its stock and really took craft beer to its heart, stocking a very impressive range of beer, and not all that far from where I lived.

This left me with my second home bound off licence - Sheils, about 400 metres up the street on the opposite side to Sweeney's. The selection was never as good as Sweeney's but it was solid and more importantly for today's missive, it introduced me to Jever Pilsner. Back then I found it on special offer in a six pack of 330ml bottles. I had never heard of it, but it was cheap, German and in a handy cardboard carrier. All positives to my mind. I took a pack home and never had reason to regret my decision. It was packed with flavour and hugely satisfying. I later found out that Jever has something of a cult following in parts of its homeland. I can see why because it does offer a great deal more than most of the mass produced German lagers. Sadly Sheils has also closed down, a victim of the recession rather than any hopes of expansion and thus I am left bereft of beer options on my walk home.

I chanced upon Jever once again a few weeks ago in Mc Hugh's, another fine Dublin off licence. This time it came in a more respectable 500ml bottle and while purchasing some for the bank holiday weekend I mused over whether this beer would still offer me what it did all those years ago. There are many more miles on my palate since then, including beers that are more than a match in the flavour stakes for Jever. Thankfully it stood the test of time, offering a crisp hop profile and uncompromising bitterness. I appreciated the malt aspect a bit more, not really recalling it at all last time, but the hops and bitterness were a novelty back then.

St Petersberg. Leningrad. A stout by any other name....

Stout, but with more. Even the bottle means business. It is pointy and purposeful, swathed in foil and adorned with strange, dark Gothic symbols. In short, it's an attractive bottle fully worthy to house the imperial stout within. The beer itself doesn't disappoint, pouring as black and ominous as the creepy symbol on the bottle neck. Yet again I served this stout too cold but a little time spent enjoying the coffee and dark chocolate aroma while also admiring the tightly packed foam topped inky blackness in the glass passed the ten minutes or so required to get the most from the sumptuous mix of roasted malt this beer was engineered with. At 7.7% abv this is a proper stab at an imperial stout, if perhaps a little on the low side, but the alcohol doesn't really feature in the show at all. Sure, you're aware that this beer is not to be trifled with, but the effortless blend of bitterness and coffee wrapped in full body is the memory taken away.

Get your Freon on

I wouldn't want to hazard a guess at the the finishing gravity of this beer. It is a big, big beer tasting all of the 10% abv crammed into the equally imposing bottle. The good people at the Cigar City Brewery recommend that any Floridians drinking this beer crank the air conditioning way  down low to maximise the winter warmer effect. A winter warmer this beer is without doubt, but I find it hard to imagine any air conditioner could provide the temperature required.
It's a strange encounter. Rich, sweet malt and sugar mingled with a reasonable dash of hops manages to get through the whipped cream tan foam and grab the nose giving the expectation of the non negotiable bitterness associated with so many American barley wines, but it doesn't come. Instead there is an immense sweetness that lingers, and lingers until sensory habituation of the sweet receptors occurs and some bitterness creeps in where it is apt to do so. It makes for a boozy, heavy, toffee/liquorice affair with hops playing second fiddle - the way a winter warmer should be.

Nice stout. Pity about the label

Stout in a clear glass bottle is curious thing. It is never seen. In much the

Oirsh. To be sure.

same way paler ales are alluring in flint - and no doubt this is why brewers do it - the black bottles on the shelf of my local Lidl grabbed my attention. That was the first thing to attract me, followed very shortly afterwards by the appalling label. I understand that this label is likely to be an affront only to those who are fully integrated into Irish society, and no doubt not an eyelid was batted in other countries at those shamrocks. Indeed shamrocks are doing quite well at the moment with approximately two billion people spying them on the collar of the newly married Duke of Cambridge as he stood resplendent on the alter of Westminster Abbey in the dress uniform of the Irish Guards last week. To put it in context, overdoing the blarney on Irish beer labels is like the offensive Dolmio adverts featuring those bushy eyebrowed Calambrian puppets. No doubt a lazy stereotype that would never be aired in Italy.

Anyway, the beer. It looks like stout, smells like stout and pours like stout complete with appetising tan foam. My first few mouthfuls suffered a little because the beer was too cold and I casually dismissed it as a Diageo clone, my attitude tainted a little by certain of English brewers to be in thrall of the almighty G, but then things started to get better as the stout warmed up; hops appeared, roasted notes surfaced and the lovely vanilla like hint found in the best of stouts emerged. A nice pint and in keeping with many stouts, best served off the shelf.

A big, busty, boozy babe

I haven't had much luck with strong Italian beer. Most of the time it is merely a stronger version of a bland thirst slaker that curiously manages to taste of just as little.

I picked up this 'Birra Artiganale' in a fabulous Roman shop richly stocked with a truly mind boggling selection of wine, olive oil, pasta, meat, cheese and chocolate. Predictably the beer selection was limited, but it gave an inkling of the small yet tenacious craft brewing industry that is taking shape in Italy.

The marketing is crass (this is but one of the beers I bought. The others included a busty red head and curvaceous brunette) but it is not entirely surprising coming from the land of Silvio Berlusconi. I can't imagine that the matronly woman on the label would be invited to one of Berlusconi's infamous 'bunga bunga' parties. He likes his women younger and slimmer if the tabloids are to be believed.

La Tabachera is a big hitting beer - the 10% abv is evident on the nose and on the tongue, but is surprisingly light for such a big beer. It is warming with whipped cream foam that faded all to quickly. The colour is an attractive copper, something not very often seen in Italian beer and more surprisingly it throws a chill haze demonstrating the brewer's commitment to unflitered ale. There's plenty of sweet honey malt to keep up the interest without any cloying, no hops to speak of but a slight chemical note bordering on industrial makes it hard to fully enjoy things.

This beer certainly stands out from all other Italian beer, even the handful of craft ales available. You can't help but think that the future of Italian craft beer rests on the ample shoulders of this woman and her equally well endowed friends.

Three in a row

Lidl often have a few Shepheard Neame bottles about the place but I tend to shy from them because of the clear glass and homogeneity of hue. This time I decided to grab all three on offer and taste them all at once.

They share a lot in common; all are 4% abv, all require a degree of scrutiny to distinguish a difference in colour and all are faintly light struck. How do they differ? By quite a bit thankfully. When tasted sequentially they prove to be an interesting waltz through the world of Kentish ale. Autumn Blaze is perhaps most quintessentially English giving toffee, a full body, lovely Goldings hops up front and some cold tea tannins. Tapping the Admiral is a lighter affair - sweetish with a marshmallow like sensation on the tongue, little on the nose and worst afflicted by light strike. Can't say I tasted too much of the brandy mentioned on the label,  but the sweetness got to me after a while. Thumping in last of all came Rudolph's Revenge, a seasonal offering packed full of earthy hops and a lingering bitterness resting on reassuring malt. There was something festive in there that I couldn't quite place, but it added a little something to an already solid ale and made it the best of them for my money.

Dog Beer

I've been a away a while. Partly taking a break from the world of the internet and also because I was busy working on other things. This is not the best beer to give my blog the kick start it badly needs, but it'll do. Gimmicky doesn't begin to cover this stuff but I was unashamedly drawn right in. I bought it for the hound dog that patrols the land around my in-laws farm in Mayo. He loved the stuff, as well he might because there is a healthy does of beef extract in it. Along with the beef there is lactic acid and malt extract. I can't give you any tasting notes because I was reluctant to drink it. Also the ingredients don't inspire confidence, even for our canine friends; 'crude protein, crude fat, crude fibre and crude ash' are the main constituents, so I'm thinking snouts, trotters and tripe as the source. The glaring exception in the make up of the 'beer' is of course hops. None to be had, which is probably just as well because I more than likely would have tasted it if there had been. Wouldn't you?

Doppelgänger

Does this label look a lot like Pilsner Urquell, or is it just me? It provoked a double take on my part when I spotted it out of the corner of my eye in the local Spar. For a moment I thought it was some manner of re-branding by the big Czech brewer, but soon realised it was a lookalike attempting to piggy back on hard won marketing of Pilsner Urquell. Interestingly this beer is brewed in Slovakia by a no doubt once proud independent brewer that is now owned by Heineken. I wonder if Slovak brewers are at all jealous of the huge success enjoyed by their once countrymen in the Czech Republic? Zlaty Bazant isn't quite as enjoyable as Pilsner Urquell; it is harsher without the effortless mellow character that I like in latter, but the nose is similar with wonder floral hops and the body has the same satisfying and distinctive malt found in lager from around those parts. Overall it's a heavier, boozier affair with a bit more DMS too, giving a slight veggie note that I don't particularly care for.


I suppose I have fallen into an inevitable comparison with Pilsner Urquell, but that's what you get when you market your beer in a perilously similar way to one of the most enjoyable lagers in the world. Sadly it was also inevitable that the comparison would be unfavourable.

Just Peachy

One of the finest aspects of the many hop varieties available to brewers is the myriad fruit flavours and aromas that these little green leaves add to beer. Citrus notes are very pleasant, as are tropical fruit flavours such as mango. Golden Glory from Badger has a 'floral blend of aromatic and bitter hops', but there is no way that these hops alone can account for the fruity smell and flavour. The beer reeks of peaches and melon - surely the result of the addition of some fresh fruit or essence. I have never come across an ale with such a fruity aroma and flavour and find it hard to believe that it stems from hops alone. There is no mention on the label of fruit being added during the brew but the 'unmistakable peach aroma' is acknowledged.

Despite the fruity kick in the face, this beer is quite pleasant. It is sweet but not in the sickly way that Blandford Fly assaulted the palate. The body and bitterness blend well with the sweetness and make this an enjoyable experience. Summer is undoubtedly the time to fully appreciate this beer - it is refreshing, but the pong from the glass really takes some getting over.

It looks good, tastes good and, by golly, it does you good!

I'm doing well in the low alcohol beer stakes. Manns Brown Ale satisfied me earlier and now a few cans of Mackeson Stout picked up during a trip to Northern Ireland are doing the job just as well. I've had an interest in Mackeson stout ever since my father declared that one of my first attempts at a home brewed stout tasted like it, and recited with gusto the now defunked Mackeson advertising slogan: "It Looks good, tastes good and, by golly, it does you good!" He remembered clearly the days when this stout was recommended to nursing mothers and anyone else in need of nourishment. Nowadays such statements fall foul of all kinds of advertising standards political correctness insanity despite the obvious truth to the statement. It is nutritional, and taken in moderation is a valid and welcome part of anyone's diet.

Looking back it is no surprise he drew the comparison between my stout and this one. Mine was made from heavy, sickly bitter sweet dark liquid malt extract and finished up with a high final gravity, providing plenty of residual sweetness. That's what Mackeson stout gives up too - a sweet/bitter mix with plenty of body. The full body and sweetness comes from the addition of lactose, a sugar that brewers' yeast cannot metabolise, leaving it in the finished beer. Once again, like Manns this little beer is satisfying and full despite the wee 3% abv. I must admit to having more respect for Manns because the brewers have made the beer satisfying through skilful use of malts and mashing, while brewers of Mackeson stout use lactose to pad things out, which let's face it, is cheating. It is a shame that Inbev now produce this lovely little beer because it is the very antithesis of big industry, in its little can that provides all of one unit of alcohol.

Beer, but not as we know it

Ginger is featuring a lot in my beer drinking. This time it's a bit different. This is ginger beer in the true sense of the word - an alcoholic version of the stuff bought in the local shop. I suppose it's a viable form of beer - it's all too easy to get trapped into the restricted thinking of beer being composed solely of malt and hops, but ginger beer has neither. Most of us can live with our beer being spiced with vegetative items other than hops, and can also countenance grains other than barley, but is this stuff beer in the sense we understand it? I don't really care to be honest.

The ginger leaps from the glass and pulls the hair from your nostrils, making the eyes almost water. I love this in decent ginger beer. The heat on the tongue matches the zing in the nose, but it's sweet - too much for me, but to make things worse there is an unpleasant after taste that is the unmistakable faintly bitter note of artificial sweetener, which is a shame. Perhaps a dose of hops might fix that...

Recognition

M&S can always be relied upon to provide some of the tastiest nibbles on the high street. Sadly the beer selection often does not match the quality of the food on offer. In Ireland we generally don't get the beer that is on sale in the UK. I do not know who decides which of the available M&S beers make their way to Irish shelves, but he/she must be influenced by sales alone because until recently only the blandest of English ale made it. I imagine their thought processes were along the lines of the Irish not being interested in English ale, what with all the Guinness we have to drink over here. In part they are correct - except that the Irish are in fact much like the British in that the beer of choice is lager, every bit as cold and bland as that on sale in the UK. Being persistently disappointed by the beer on offer has curtailed my trips to M&S, but last weekend I hit pay dirt in one of the larger stores in west Dublin. I was greeted with a wide range of beers from around Europe, not to mention some promising English ale. I grabbed a few and headed for the till.

Another strange aspect of the beer from M&S is the mysterious nature of it. Rarely is the brewery listed on the bottle - we merely have to accept that M&S source only the very best of food and drink. This practise left Irish beer lovers trying to figure out who was brewing the M&S Irish Stout that was on sale all over the UK. It turned out to be The Carlow Brewing Company, and true to their selection strategy, they couldn't have picked a better stout. Another example of this was their Cornish IPA, which turned out to be St Austell's hop packed Proper Job  - a beer not made available in Ireland.

The guessing games are over now. On these most recent bottles full recognition is given to the brewery, and not before time. As a result we now know that their solid Norfolk Bitter comes from Woodeforde's. While the silky sweet Cheshire Chocolate Porter comes from Unicorn Brewery of Stockport, and their rich malty Southwold Winter Beer can be attributed to Adnams and is likely a derivation of their Broadside recipe.

It is important to know who brews the beer we drink so we might give recognition for great achievement, or know to steer clear in the future.

Sweet Fire Fly

My last run in with an ale spiced with ginger was a hit and miss affair. The colour was great, as was the dry warmth the ginger added, but it was gassy and thin. Blandford Fly from Badger is an eqully mixed bag, but for different reasons. Once again the colour is alluring, as is the distinct ginger whiff from the rich foam. On the tongue the ginger asserts itself as a none too subtle heat that lingers on the roof of the mouth. The carbonation is just about right, and this, coupled with full body makes for satisfying drinking. Something didn't quite sit right though. The mild bitterness seems to fight against a distinct sweetness that grew more unpalatable with each return to the glass, until, with half the bottle gone, I declared myself sick of it. Where does this sweetness come from? Maple syrup. I hadn't given the label my full attention and did not notice it on the blurb, so was quite surprised when I scrutinised the bottle more carefully. I don't see the need for it. The ginger addition was well balanced adding a nice zing, but the sweetness overpowered my ailing palate. Perhaps the beer would not be the same at all without the maple syrup - it is very likely responsible for the full body I enjoyed. It seems like a strange combo too, making the beer like some manner of dessert. Perhaps a small glass, just after dinner is the way to enjoy this strange ale.

No better Mann

Brewing beer with low alcohol content and therefore utilising small quantities of malt during the brew, but still managing to make the beer satisfying is quite a challenge. English brewers are rather good at it, knocking out any number of moreish ales at 3.5% abv. However most of these beers are at their best on cask and do not take well to being captured in a bottle. Young's Bitter comes to mind - gorgeous on cask but thin and gassy in the bottle. So, how have brewers of Manns Brown Ale managed to produce an ale of a mere 2.8% abv that is very satisfying despite being shoved in  a bottle? It's a trick I would like to learn. I don't like the way that the label seems to push the beer as a mere cooking ingredient because it holds its own very well as a stand alone drink. There is surprisingly rich roasted notes, but more importantly the malt satisfies, and this is often the big let down in beer of this strength. What am I saying, 'this strength'? This stuff is far weaker than the average pint of session ale on offer in Britain which makes its drinkability all the more surprising.

Surprise delivery

I've been away awhile. Haven't much to write amount in truth. I had the privilege of working Christmas day in the lab, which proved to be more depressing than I thought it would be. I was kept busy with incidents of gastroenteritis, no doubt a result of poorly prepared Christmas dinners. I didn't get out to a single pub over the holiday season either. A couple of days before a roaring open fire in the windswept West of Ireland did my heart good as did a lively wedding just after New Year. There was little in the way of interesting beer to be had until a surprise delivery from the nice people at CAMRA arrived. It seems the lads at Realale.com fixed their delivery issues by using a courier that I suggested to them. So bottled real ale is flowing in my house once again. I grazed on the delivery over the last week or so and declare myself quite happy with it.

Hobson's Choice proved to be a golden ale I could really get on with. I have griped about English golden ale in the past, with good reason, but this one really bucked the trend with lip smacking bitterness, full body and rounded malt.

Cheddar Ale's Totty Pot started a little weak wristed but soon gave up the goods upon warming - treacle like roasted notes were the reward for not rushing.  

Grumpling Old Ale was a solid, if uneventful ruby ale. Plenty of malt and fullness but fairly typical of many other ales. There are a lot of these ales in CAMRA deliveries, but it doesn't stop me from enjoying them.

Palmerston's Folly was unusual for a winter selection - a sweet ale with a decent dose of wheat made for refreshing drinking, but seemed incongruous among the heavier ales.

The most striking ale came from Wiltshire in the shape of Chimera IPA - heftily hopped with English fare and authentic at 7% abv. A fine beer with uncompromising bitterness and malt to match.

Deliveries are bimonthly now, instead of quarterly so I can look forward to even more tasty beer this year than last. True, there are quite often a dud beer or two to be had but on the whole my CAMRA beer instalment is well worth anticipating.