Assorted naughtiness

Rascals did a brand refresh recently, and with it came a new core-range IPA, called Sidekick. It's 5.3% ABV and promises "retro" citrus and resin. In the glass it's a clear golden-amber colour, quite reminiscent of Sierra Nevada pale ale. Is that the aim? The aroma has a modicum of modernity about it, smelling bright and juicy rather than zestily sharp. The flavour opens on a certain floral note -- a reminder that American beers of this kind are cousins of English bitter -- before the harder grapefruit and pine arrives to make the middle and finish. Happily, the lighter, more tropical, fruit side is tasteable too, bringing a more sophisticated balancing sweetness than you'd get from crystal malt's toffee alone. Overall it's rather enjoyable, and does tick the retro box quite nicely. It slightly calls into question Rascals's positioning as a trend-loving yoof-orientated brewery, but maybe we all have to grow up eventually. Learning to enjoy Cascade is part of that.

The last beer to bear the old logo was Haywire, a saison produced in collaboration with Kinnegar. It's a gentle affair, only 3.8% ABV and sunny yellow colour, looking like a witbier. There's plenty of flavour, however: zesty lemon for days, with a dry grain crunch and just a hint of earthy farmhouse goings-on. A smear of tropical fruit becomes apparent when it warms. It could stand to be even drier, and the only thing I can ding it on is a somewhat sugary lemon squash effect, particularly in the aroma. The label tells us it's made with Motueka hops and cardamom, one of which must be responsible for the lemon zest/squash character but I couldn't tell you which: the beer doesn't really taste of either ingredient. It's good, though, and well suited to outdoor drinking on a warm day. Don't expect a masterpiece of dry farmyard complexity and you'll be fine on it.

A tap takeover at UnderDog in early April presented the opportunity to try a couple of beers from the pilot range, and what appears to be a regular, but draught only, stout. That's called Bullseye and seems to be pitched right at the mainstream, being 4% ABV and nitrogenated. Well, a bit nitrogenated. The pint wasn't exactly a ball of cream. Although the head was thick, it faded quickly, like it didn't have the necessary amount of the foam-preserving gas. That left it feeling quite flat. Still, the flavour was very decent, avoiding any possible accusation of blandness and showing a healthy quantity of milk chocolate and sweet wafer biscuit. A little more roast or hop bittering would have balanced it nicely, and I got an unwelcome twang of buttery diacetyl. So, it's not stout perfection, but it will serve, and it's good to see another Irish microbrewery recognise that stout like this still has a place among the IPAs and whatnot.

The pilots at the same event started with a New Zealand Pilsner, a light 4.3% ABV while dark and moody in appearance; rose gold, almost red, though perfectly clear. As an expression of Kiwi hops it's magnificent, providing a gorgeous mix of ripe stonefruit and a hard herbal bitterness. I wasn't expecting the bonus oily sweetness of marzipan, but welcomed it when it arrived near the end. The texture is full and rounded, something I'm guessing might have something to do with all the oily hops, more than the gravity. At the same time it has a refreshing crisp bite in keeping with the strictures of the style. I loved how such a kaleidoscope of hop flavour could fit into what remains an accessible drinking lager. My only real criticism is that it may not go any further than the one-off pilot kit series. It deserves a wider audience, I say selfishly.

It couldn't be a Rascals rundown without something a bit silly, and today it was Smoothie Sour, one of those fingerpaint purple-to-grey jobs, this one including blackberry, gooseberry and strawberry. It's not usually my thing but I gave it a fair shake and, no, it's not really for me. There is a certain amount of sourness, but no more than you'd get in a yoghurt, and with the thick fruit mulch added in, that's what it tasted like more than a beer. I can't say I could identify any gooseberry in the flavour, and the other two give it merely a generic berry effect: I would have guessed raspberry. While I'm getting the digs in, 6% ABV is too strong for something so candified. I think I would have preferred this to be either a fully-attenuated, properly sour, mixed fermentation beer, or one loaded up with lactose and vanilla for a full-on and unapologetic tooth-rotting milkshake. This doesn't fit either genre and left me shrugging. Won't somebody please think of the beer reviewers.

That's all the Rascalling for now. The brewery doesn't make a whole lot of lager, and while it has a perfectly serviceable core-range one in Jailbreak, there's definitely room for getting creative in the cool-fermented space. It is nearly summer, after all.

Browns around

Everyone loves an American brown ale. In fact I don't think I've met anyone who has expressed the contrary opinion, yet new examples of the style are thin on the ground around here, and most everywhere else. Luckily, this most basic need is met by the one Rye River makes for Lidl on a permanent basis, though still it's a cause for celebration when a different one appears.

This one is from Dublin's own Outer Place brewing and is called Silent Orbit. It's a big lad, at a properly American 6.2% ABV. The head is an attractive and wholesome off-white over a crystal-clear dark garnet body. It could stand to be browner, was my first impression.

The aroma is gently floral, a summery bower of roses and honeysuckle, with no more than a hint of roasted grain. It takes a bit of warming for the latter to unfold in the flavour, where it's mostly gooey caramel and a little milk chocolate, with merely the faintest bite of dry toastiness at the end. The flowers continue to billow in the breeze, showing that there's definitely hops involved here, just not at punchy American levels. 

I liked the soft subtlety here: too many breweries don't bother with that, especially if they're putting "American" on the label. At the same time, the label claims it's late- and dry-hopped with Idaho 7, Ekuanot and Galaxy, and I think I'm within my rights to expect more fruity fun from all that, as well as a bigger malt-driven body, given the strength. I can't be too critical as it's a fine and well-made beer, deliciously drinkable in the style's own way. A few extra kilos of yee-haw wouldn't have gone amiss, however.

It seems Rathcoole has become a new centre of excellence for brown ale, as not long after, Outer Place's host brewery Lineman released a new one of their own. Big Beans is a coffee-enhanced version of their Big Calm, released in 2021.

That one was not short of coffee character, befitting the style. Adding actual coffee changes it significantly, reducing the roast and adding a cakey sweetness, presumably from the oil in the beans. It's not subtle, showing all the taste and aroma of actual cold-brew. Served cold on draught, the mouthfeel is a little thin for 6% ABV but it does round out as it warms. If the barman in The Black Sheep offers you a chilled glass, just say no. I should have known that.

While this is tasty, I couldn't help thinking it's better suited to coffee beer fans than the brown ale brigade. The addition has kind of replaced the brown ale character, to the point where the base beer could have been anything.

All my gripes today are minor ones. These are both very good beers, and appreciated especially for not being yet more IPA. I have no objection to even more brown ale coming out of Lineman's brewery, or anyone else's.

A glass, please

Galway Bay has been one of the more prolific breweries in 2024, which I very much welcome. Their third new beer of 2024 landed in mid-March, an imperial stout called Obsidian. The name references more than just the colour: it's on a Mexican theme, with chillis and chocolate, plus vanilla and cinnamon for the hot chocolate effect.

That sounds like a lot of novelty but it's worn lightly. At heart it's a dense 12% ABV stout with lots of old-fashioned bitterness, suggesting very high-cocoa dark chocolate rather than a sweetened gimmick. It's rare to encounter vanilla being so understated, detectable only once it's warmed up a bit. I was a little disappointed that the chilli wasn't more prominent: no spiciness on the tongue or afterburn in the belly, only a light sneezy dusting of paprika.

Still, it's not any way bland and has its own delicious character, totally separate from the add-ins. The bitter chocolate taste is enjoyable and the huge chewy texture even more so. That's plenty. This beer is plenty.

Full immersion

I was back in England for yet more family business a couple of weeks ago. This time the destination was the most genteel city of Bath. It's not exactly known for its quality beer offer, but I think I made out OK, and had no trouble finding decent pubs and decent beer. Indeed, I didn't put much effort into it, which is why you don't have to tell me about places I don't mention.

Stop one was not an Austenesque tearoom but an Indian restaurant: Bikanos, across the river in Widcombe. I had a pint of Cobra, meh, and then noticed they had a draught beer not on the menu, so presumably the illuminated keg font is new. Eazy is a Camden Town beer I'd never seen before. The name appears to be a squirmingly awkward pun on "hazy", because it's a hazy IPA. 5% ABV seems a little on the high side for what England regards as easy drinking. They've more or less got the flavour basics down: an inoffensive blend of ripe mandarin and a rub of garlic, the latter to complement your naan. Its mainstream credentials are shown in the barely-hazy copper colour, fairly typical of hazy IPA made by breweries with no enthusiasm for something they've decided to brew in vast quantities. Where it excels, however, is in the texture. It's beautifully soft and unfizzy, adding to the flavour's richness and suiting the food particularly well. I don't know if restaurants are its main stomping ground, but I can see why they would be. These days, Camden Town tends to make broadly reliable accessible beers, and here's another one. Where next?

My lodgings were at The Black Fox, a sparsely-furnished, broadly maritime-feeling pub at the edge of the old centre. They like to stick with local beers and I had a cask pint of It's Gonna Be May from Bath's own Electric Bear. This is another hazy one, though properly easy at just 3.8% ABV. The texture is nicely smooth, making for a very sinkable pint. There was something very strange going on with the hopping: a coconut and fruit sweetness that hits hard in the foretaste and lasts all the way through. Turns out it's done using Sabro with Azacca, which makes sense. It works. This is undemanding, like the beer before it, but has bags more character. I don't know how far from Bath Electric Bear gets, but I'll be watching out for them. Modern twists on traditional British brewing don't always work, but on this evidence they seem to know what they're doing.

Not far up the street from here is Bath Brew House, which I visited last time I was in town, almost a decade ago. It hasn't changed much: still a bit of a drinking barn with a roomy beer garden out back. But their heart's in the right place as regards the beer they brew.

Seeking refreshment, I started on Valkyrie, their take on Kölsch, kegged. I wasn't expecting much from this but was wowed, right out of the traps. It's mostly clear and a slightly dark shade of golden, the recipe leaning heavily into Vienna malt, I'm told. While it's perfectly clean (and not all brewpub lagers are) it's not crisp, wearing instead a subtle yet delicious cookie-like sweetness. This matches an almost creamy low-carbonation texture. I found it to be a great session starter, but equally there's enough to keep one interested here for another pint or two straight after. Just watch out for that 5% ABV, English lightweights.

After that, I thought I would try my luck with another kegged one: Avena, BBH's stout. This is 6.2% ABV so I opted for a half, and was glad I did. In the glass it's a dirty brown colour, and without nitrogen the head looks quite forlorn. The badge doesn't advertise it as a milk stout, but it appears to be one: intensely sweet with the added tang of salt one gets from milk chocolate, building to an unpleasantly sweaty tang by the end of just the half pint. In its favour, it's not heavy so it doesn't get cloying, but it was still tough drinking for me. A little drying out with some balancing roast would have helped it a lot.

Over to the cask taps, then. Senator is a table beer, which is not something I've seen on cask before, I think. At 3.2% ABV it's not massively different from several mainstream bitters, I suppose. It's a hazy pale yellow and does have an excellently full body, given that very modest strength. Lemon cookies open the flavour, building in bitterness as it goes, and properly sharp in a stimulating, mouth-watering, way by the end. I got both crispness and chewiness from it, making it an excellent all-rounder: full-flavoured and not at all compromised.

Last time I hadn't noticed just how much of a rugby town Bath was, but it very much is. Bath Brew House made a special bitter for the 2024 Six Nations. They called it Victory. LOL. It's 4.3% ABV and amber-coloured. Brown bitter, then? Technically yes, but they've made a great job of it, packing in fresh and leafy green English hops, set on a superbly refreshing dry and tannic base. A tiny bit of peppery spice finishes it with a flourish. It's another very moreish beer, on the plain and unchallenging side, but utterly delicious in that way good bitter does so well.

A big ol' IPA to finish the session here: Hercules, labouring away at 6% ABV. This one doesn't seem to be in the English style, having big and bitter citrus notes up front, leading to harder resin and pine later on. It's a west-coast Hercules then. The zest keeps it drinkable and the malt side is restrained, not bothering with balance, and not really needing to. There's a certain spiciness which I would say is more English, but otherwise it's American all the way, and beautifully done. Here we have yet another fantastic drinking beer, though one with a hint of danger too.

Stout aside, I could have very happily started from the top once more for another round of everything, but it was time to move on.

That brought us to another pub we'd been in before, Bath's famous The Raven. I chose a porter from the wickets, named Captain Pigwash (yum yum), brewed by Potbelly in Northamptonshire. It's a bit of a sticky affair: a full 5% ABV with loads of roast plus a smoky, rather phenolic, twang. At times it felt like drinking a barbecue marinade more than a beer. I got through my pint in due course, but it's not one you can rush. I think I prefer my cask porters to be more easy-going than this, not that I'm in any position to be fussy about such things.

And in a reverse of the norm, herself went with an IPA of 5.1% ABV, called Falcon Punch, supplied by Essex's Brentwood Brewing. The name is from its use of the Falconer's Flight hop blend, which I haven't seen mentioned in a while, plus Mosaic and Citra. Mosaic has won that particular fight and the beer isn't punchy at all. Instead it's soft and peachy, with dessertish meringue pie overtones. Perhaps the Citra builds into more of a bitterness on drinking more than the taster I had. As a hop-forward cask ale it still did an excellent job. Brentwood has had a couple of beers in the Irish branches of Wetherspoon over the years, but this is the first of theirs that impressed me in any way.

From the outside, I liked the look of Sam Weller's pub, nestled in among the winding streets of central Bath, and inside it's nice too, plush and comfortable with boutique hotel lounge vibes. The beer selection was modest, and I picked one from Black Sheep, perhaps one of the Yorkshire brewer's attempts at cool craft beer which landed them insolvent. It was a 4% ABV session IPA called Respire. It's far from all-American in character, however, the zingy citrus sitting next to a very northern waxy bitterness of the sort I associate with Timothy Taylor Landlord or Marble's Pint. It works well, in a best-of-both-worlds kind of way. If you want to treat it as a modern, hopped up, US-influenced pale ale, you can do so quite validly, but it's equally a clean and clear Yorkshire bitter with plenty of characterful punch.

Finally, The Star. This pub was only on my radar because I wanted to check in again with cask Bass, especially with the looming danger of Carlsberg-Marston's getting rid of it. The Star specialises in jugs of Bass served on gravity, and I had a pint, and it was perfectly pleasant, though I don't really get what all the fuss is about with this beer, other than its history. The pub itself is as traditional as can be: a series of tiny rooms, one with a tiny bar counter, tiny stillage and very large jar of pickled eggs. It's all kinds of charming, and on a sunny Saturday when downtown Bath was thronged, is just far enough out to avoid any undesirable passing trade. What would such types know of cask Bass?

It also seems to be connected to Abbey Ales of Bath, and serves their flagship, Bath Bellringer. This is a golden-coloured bitter, shading to amber, and 4.2% ABV. For all that it's lauded throughout the premises, it's a rather plain affair, offering little more than a simple squeeze of lemon essence -- not quite intense enough to be zest -- plus some waxiness and pale grains which lend it an air of pilsner, to my mind. I was unimpressed, and any patrons looking for a simple and decent bitter would be better served with the Bass. Up your game, Abbey.

Before leaving, I had another British take on American IPA, this time from Asahi Fuller's Meantime Dark Star, and called Revelation. It's another goldy-amber one, and a full 5.7% ABV. It needs that to balance out the very heavy and acidic hop resins, sharply bitter at first, then tailing off into a long citric finish. It's a bit of an assault to begin with, but I got used to it quickly, and was fully enjoying the beer by the second mouthful. For all the hefty punch, there's a certain amount of balance on display as well, those hops somewhat calmed by a chewy, golden syrup malt sweetness. It takes skill to make something that's this big but not difficult to drink at the same time. A revelation, you might say, if you wanted to end your blog post on a trite note.

Ahead of this trip I'm not sure I would have considered Bath as a weekend destination by itself, having been quite satisfied with it as a daytrip when based in Bristol. There's lots to explore beyond the famous sights, however. I could have punched in another day or two, having barely scratched the surface of what ciders it has to offer, for example. That's for next time.

Party in my mouth

Today marks nineteen years since this blog got underway, and my al fresco celebration beer is the new special edition from Rye River: Piñata Party. It's a daring recipe, created in collaboration with Cervecería Morenos in México City, and is a sour ale with pineapple, lime, chilli and smoke. How does that play out?

It looks innocent enough, a light and hazy shade of yellow, suggesting a beer built for summer. The relatively modest 5% ABV suggests so too. The intense sweetness of tinned pineapple is the only thing I get from the aroma, so everything so far points to this being nothing fancier than pineapple juice. It's light-bodied, fizzy and refreshing, so starts off well on the first sip. But then...

I have no objection to smoked pineapple. The seasoned, roasted fruit that comes at the end of a rodizio session is often welcome, though I've usually eaten too much by this stage. Anyway, it's a nice touch. This seems to have been aiming for that in beer form but misses the mark. The smoke is its own thing, right at the front of the flavour, and tastes acrid and fishy. It's a brief blip, however, and the fresh and juicy pineapple lands in immediately behind it, then the base beer: a light and zippy sour ale without pretensions. Finally, the finish adds a pleasant squirt of lime zest to give it more of a cocktail vibe. There's not much chilli, but still it would all have worked beautifully were it not for the ill-advised smoke component.

Smoke as a seasoning is difficult thing to pull off, especially in a pale beer. The rubbery burnt factor on show here is all too common, and I admire Rye River's optimism in thinking it wouldn't affect them. This beer isn't a complete disaster, and I appreciate a fruited sour ale that's actually sour for once. If you're less sensitive to the chlorophenols than I am, you might get on fine with it.

A wine time

There seems to have been a bit of a slowdown in new release beer from Otterbank, though there have been welcome rebrews of old favourites like Gimp Mask and Just the One. The most recent set included just the two which were brand new to me.

Wild Muff owes its puerile name to the yeast, harvested from a forest near the brewery. Based on Chevalier barley, it was fermented out in Sauvignon Blanc casks, left for 27 months to let the yeast ply its trade. The result is a sparkling golden amber beer of 5.8% ABV, looking like something from a Dutch renaissance painting. 

The white wine is apparent from the aroma, mellow and melony, with just a naughty nip of tartness alongside. The texture is light and brisk, and the flavour reminds me of Flanders red in particular: balsamic resins, macerated cherries and a charming matured warmth. At the same time it's definitely a pale beer, with a crispness not dissimilar to geuze.

If this was an experiment, it's one well worth repeating. The result is very pleasant drinking and shows all the hallmarks of good Belgian-style sour ale with none of the shortcuts. I suppose that taking over two years to produce means it would really want to.

To follow, Oíche Mhaith is a Burgundy barrel aged mixed fermentation vatted porter (12% ABV) which, at time of writing this introductory sentence, I have not yet tasted. It looks nice -- black with cola-red edging -- and smells a little of vermouth and a lot of balsamic vinegar.

The flavour is rather mellower, I'm happy to say. I assume the vats are made of oak because there's a lot of smooth, assured and matured, vanilla on display here. Spanish wine comes to mind: the correct level of Rioja richness; the ripe-to-bursting grape juice effect meeting more astringent raisin and sparks of black pepper and old leather.

This is pretty much exactly what anyone would want agéd, oakéd porter to be: bold, distinctive, yet worringly drinkable. If you didn't like it, tell me why and I'll explain why you're wrong.

It's a delightful luxury to have so much wine-barrel-aged beer coming out of Irish breweries who know how to do it well (see also Wednesday's post). Long may this niche remain viable.

Wild for the Chardonnay

The quarterly Wicklow Wolf Locavore series has really hit its stride in recent years, with some truly creative and high-end beers. It may be a bit of a gimmick -- all ingredients are acquired locally, mostly on the brewery's own land -- but the commitment to quality comes as standard. That said, the spring release last year was nothing more adventurous than a weissbier, so I was pleased that Locavore Spring 2024 has them back playing with barrels and Brettanomyces again.

To be precise, it's a "Barrel aged farmhouse ale with Brettanomyces", presumably starting life as some class of saison before getting the wild yeast treatment and 16 months in Chardonnay casks. The result is 7.2% ABV and a bright, though murky, golden colour. The best of these have a flavour profile in common with lambic, but this is nothing so wild and sour. The Brett is the more cuddly sort, giving the aroma and flavour big soothing notes of ripe apricot and tinned lychee. There's a certain amount of peppery spice, but not as much as I would like. As it warms, the white wine character emerges, complementing the stonefruit elements, but adding a little alcohol poke, which shouldn't be unexpected, given the strength.

Although it's no masterpiece of mixed-fermentation complexity, it's very nice stuff. I see it working well as an aperitif, in place of white port or cocktails based on dry vermouth. By the end of the glass I had become aware that lazy summer evenings aren't too far away. Get a few of these in for that, and thank me later.