#384: Not Like the Others

 Of Foam and Fury was a bit of a bombshell back in the day - rightfully scooping Beoir's Beer of the Year for 2013 (I think?) with it's proper heft and blast of hops. From my first draught pull I was impressed, but it's been years since I've gone back.

Good timing then for a bit of a revival, albeit modernised and embellished with some Riwaka in celebration of its twelfth year. There's something immediately anachronistic going on here, as Of Foam and Fury Riwaka Edition pours pale and hazy. Another crank of the 'modernise' dial has led to a nose that is sweet and juicy with passion fruit tropicals and a heavy lean toward stone fruit. So far so pleasant, if not entirely in line with the original flavour profile (which, to be fair, is loudly announced on the label of the beer). 

The true novelty and queerness of the beer is apparent on the palate though, where there's an initial wash of what I initially could only describe as butter. No, not diacetyl or any fermentation wonk; it's the strangest thing, a particular creamy sweetness that almost does suggest butterscotch and that is quite at odds with the zestier notes also making themselves known.  This might not sound too promising but arguably even queerer is how the palate quickly adjusts to it, as it turns to a more conventional vanilla. This vanilla along with lime maramalade, tangerine and sparkly sherbert are a sweetish bounty that fill the mouth before calming and rounding down to pineapple and apricot. It's unconventional, it's unexpected, it's delicious. Gone is the crystalline caramel of the old beer - this is almost always the first thing to go with these sort of throuwback beers - but the new hazy vanilla body is not quite the standard NEIPA mode, though it's clearly in that ballpark.

This is nothing like Of Foam and Fury of old, and more importantly - and impressively - it's nothing like most of the more modern/hazy IPAs around at the moment. Mission accomplished.

#383: Bullish

To break the monotony of German or German-inspired beer I've got some actually fresh IPA to chew through from the lovely Bullhouse Brew Co.

First up is the NEIPA Merc Bro, which pours shockingly dark for the style, a shady orange as opposed to the usual pale yellow. The nose is immediately met with sweet strawberry and apricot jam, enticing and genuinely interesting, but the promise of this is not really matched on the palate. Not that it's unpleasant - it's not - but it's also not the cleanest or brightest example of this sort of thing going around. It tastes almost as murky as it looks, a but muddy and indistinct, and is far stickier than the 6.5% ABV would normally suggest. Some of the fruit survives, again in the form of stone fruit and sweet jam, but I was quite glad to move on to the next one.

Which is King Size, a double IPA of 8%. This one is immediately more promising, or at least more conventional for a modern hazy IPA as I expect to find them; it's a good deal paler, even if it is still just as opaque. Again there's oozing sweet juice and again there's sweet strawberry, but this time there's a lot more fun to be had. Heady, fumey pear makes that 8% initially seem closer to 10%, but this is just aromatic bloom. What follows is a suerbly indulgent and enjoyable modern strong IPA, with all the trappings of such; sweet, juicy, tonnes of fruit and a distinct lack of yeast bite. That last bit is in spite of the fact that there are definitely yeast solids in the can, so pour with care. 

King Size is definitely the more successful of the two for me but the Merc Bro could well be doing something for you.

#382: Gafflasch

Gaffel Kölsch is a new one on me, and the style is another slightly mystifiying one for me. My only experience of a Kölsch is with the obviously ubiquitous Früh, which I fancy a pleasant pillowy quaffer even if I don't often get around to it. 

At the core of the Gaffel is a nice cereal sweetness, and this core expands almost to fill the whole experience of the beer. With a bit of diligence and optimism you can pull accents of celery, leafy greens and a touch of apple seed, that bitter, woody punctuation. It's almost pilsy and doesn't seem as soft and round as the Früh but at this stage I'm just splitting hairs.

In all, its just simple and pleasant and that's enough. 

To beef up this post and give this stray German a home, here's a quick cameo from Andechser Weissbier Hell, trailing behind his stablemates from the previous post. Unlike a Kölsch, which is a regular enough pickup for me, it's some time since I've had the hankering for a weissbier, but here in the first stirrings of warm weather the fancy has taken me, and when it does, nothing else will do.

Honey, sweet lemon and lemon balm leaves are the immediate impressions and I am impressed. In fact, this is a quite refined weissbier; it's not dry of course, but there's a certain quickness to it, where the sweetness is more aromatic than anything else if that makes sense. No cloying banana or bubblegum here, just an enticingly juicy thirst quencher that, like the Gaffel above, lends itself readily to quaffing, but with far more panache along the way. 

#381: Kloster Buster

All of Klosterbraueri Andechs' beers are new to me, and we start with their helles, which I guess they are calling Andescher Hell. Lo! Melanoidin! Munich malt is presumably the heavy contributor here though the beer is as pale as any other helles, but that intense malted biscuit and light toffee is there, almost suggestive of a darker beer. A great example of what helles should be in contrast to, say, German pils. Bitterness is fairly mild as expected, just a rock solid rounded lager that leans enthusiastically into its Bavarian malt heritage. Dare I say a textbook helles.

Andechs Doppelbock Dunkel pours a clear mahogany, truly a perfect appearance. The aroma is faint enough though, offering only transient whiffs of coppery cola and marzipan. Not the most promising opening for a dark beer of 7.1%, but thankfully its a classic case of under promise, over deliver, because this is rather delicious. Cola dominates again, that softly bittersweet brown sugar and warmly spiced character that is so pleasant in a beer (and indeed a cola). It's also raisiny, but it defies all of these dark and quite rich flavours by remaining quaffable, perhaps dangerously so. This is because the palate is actually quite dry, helping that moreish quality. Which time, it becomes chocolatey, but as the head retention wobbles and fades, you start to notice that the alcohol leaves a tickle of a burn in the throat but, mercifully, not to the sever detriment of the the beer's drinkability. There's even a touch of marker pen in that latent bitterness, another half mark to be docked. 

With the head gone, it feels more like a doppelbock than a dunkel, and the alcohol does begin to show, even in the appearance. Compared to the two doppelbocks featured in my previous post it definitely skirts closer to the excellent Illuminator than the Salvator and does display an impressive level of compexity even accounting for its strength, but it's only fair to say that a few of the rougher edges you naturally encounter when making a big beer like this haven't been fully smoothed out. 

Still, it's a very pleasant affair that I'd be happy to see again, even if it's not going to be the final word in doppelbock.

Andechs Spezial Hell is a festbier of sorts, according to their website. The strength has been dialled up to 5.9% from the core's 4.8% but I don't see what we're getting for that. Ultimately it's another helles. Not as melanoidiny as the above, showing just sweet grain, soft caramel and a wisp of vegetal bitterness. It's very sinkable, enjoyable and forgettable. That's fine, not everything needs to be remembered. Sometimes a beer is just a beer. That being said, we get more from the 4.8% helles than this rather un-festive festbier. 

The standard hell is the pick of the bunch here, but all of these beers are at least worthy of a punt. I look forward to trying any more I come across, extra points granted for beautiful packaging and monkish credentials. 

#380: Seeing Doppel

A couple of years ago I found a pair of Paulaner Salvator mugs in a Mitchelstown charity shop. They date from the 60s or 70s and carry a respectable 25cl each, perfect for splitting a half litre of doppelbock in front of the fire. It's been years since I've had Salvator but when I finally picked one up again, it had been shrunk down to a disappointing but arguably sensible 330ml package. Nevermind sharing then. 

Paulaner Salvator pours mostly clear and paler than I expected, a bright muddy red. Marzipan and milk chocolate ooze from the aroma and follow though to the palate, but there's also a touch of the permanent marker I found off-putting all those years ago. Initially the beer passes by pleasant, though one-dimensional, but after a while the sense of hot booze only grows more prominent. 

Like pretty much every time I've had a Paulaner Salvator it starts fine but tapers eventually towards slight disappointment. It's seemingly more available these days in its new (and admittedly quite nice) packaging, and while maybe not an essential classic it's a compelling enough  purchase at the price and I'm glad to see it knocking around. Still, it has a long way to improve before becoming anything like a go-to pickup for the style. Not that you asked, but that would be Celebrator (for nuance) or Doppel Hirsch (for brute force).

Or it might even be Galway Bay's Illuminator. I've had this a handful of times since release (editorial-repeat purchases are essential, especially in a world of such infinite and ever-changing choice and high competition as beer) and it is easily one of the best doppelbocks I've ever had. By comparison with the Salvator it's a good deal darker, with a red glow emanating from its mahogany tone and offering a beautiful aroma that suggests raisin and concentrated chewy toffee. The palate is stunning, mouth coating without being sticky and giving milk chocolate, toffee, figs and even a hint of that Pedro Ximinez dark fruit concentration that delights me in a strong dark beer. Still, we're only at 7.9% and we are getting serious value for that; it feels bigger. Not boozier, or even stronger at all, just bigger, broader and more long-lived on the palate. 

There's a proper robust bitterness too, that lingers like a wisp of coffee but also cleans up that malt intensity to make it far more drinkable than my tasting notes might be suggesting. Yes, you can quite justifiably sip this fireside as a digestif (and I kind of did, from my wine glass) but you can also grasp a ceramic mug and quaff this (which I definitely did), much like those pious lads depicted on aforementioned mug.

Where the Salvator feels like a good song but with the bass stripped out and the treble all dialled up, Illuminator has the full dynamic range; its rounder, fuller, more complex and far more interesting. Having both of these beers in the same evening was, in hindsight, a terribly unfair exercise for the poor old Salvator. 

#379: In the Headlights

Hopfully don't feature regularly enough on this blog, but towards the end of last year and the beginning of this one my craving for modern IPAs brought me regularly to their door. 

Headlights drew me in with its listing of Citra and Nelson Sauvin, both of them worthy of being a headliner on their own, and my first impression is that it's beautiful. Pale and opaque, there's an initial ooze of sweet juice - pineapple, melon and grape combining for a convincingly tropical effect. The palate is fairly sweet, though to be fair the beer is three months old at this stage. In any case it's moreish and delicious, with ripe orange, honeydew melon and some slightly sticky mango syrupy stuff. There's every chance that the bit of age has dulled some of the nuance of the hops in question, especially the somewhat delicate Nelson Sauvin, but I found plenty here to enjoy regardless

As I did in Closet, a DIPA of 7.6%. At only 1.3% stronger than the Headlights, it doesn't quite do enough to make it feel much different. Again it's pale and hazy, again it's sweet and tropical, again we have citrus and pineapple and melon. This time though, sweetness is very much the only thing on show. It's not unpleasant, and I can tolerate this more than a savoury yeast stink or acidic hop burn, but I don't think we're getting the full value of the strength on show. 

For the money and the alcohol involved, Headlights is probably the better bet for bang for your buck, by my barometer. It has all the saisfying mouthfeel you would have wanted from a strong IPA and offers more expressive hop fun. 

#378: Off Season

My son picked this beer out for me, otherwise I probably wouldn't have picked it up. No offence to Bullhouse Brew Co, I just don't get particularly animated about St Patrick's Day and beer tie-ins thereof. It was a good chance though to finally feature Bullhouse on the blog - I recently enjoyed their excellent Saisons In the Sun (no review, check out the Beer Nut's here). The artwork in particular is something I've long admired. Who would look at this and think some horrible AI slop would be better? 

Rolling Patrick pours totally opaque and flashes a promising whiff of sharp citrus and juicy tropicals, enticing and fruity. This reappears on the palate too but only for a flash; thereafter remains a beer that is all texture and very little flavour. To be fair there are shades of dank IPA stuff in here somewhere, but it's not particularly expressive, instead just delivering vanilla, grass and the empty promise of a pillowy body. It's sweeter and stickier than it ought to be at 4.2%, especially while doing not much else.

While we're talking about seasonals, this next one (still appropriately branded for St Patrick's Day) was one I thoroughly enjoyed over Christmas, and I've been unsuccessfully trying to replace it since then. 

The beer is Tara, from Lough Gill's dizzying lineup of archaeologically themed barrel aged series for the winter just past. While big barrel-aged stouts haven't been my bag as much lately as they would have been about five years ago, so I only picked up the one that looked most promising to me, this Pedro Ximinez-aged 13%-er. Expectations are high with that sort of pedigree, and they are immediately met; for as thick and slick and chocolatey as the stout of Tara is at its core, I am delighted by the amount of concentrated raisin and figgy wine. The dried fruit and almond is admittedly a secondary characteristic, the main event being dominated by a thumping great big stout that offers vanilla, dark bitter chocolate and sweet malted milk. It's heady at times, pleasantly and alluringly boozy, but never hot and always moreish. For a beer of  this strength and complexity, that's quite the feat. 

The other beers in the series have made a miraculous reappearance in my local off licence, hopefully the Tara will do the same.