#343: Amsterdam

It's taken me six years of regular Amsterdam visits to finally get to Biercafe Gollem and when I landed there on a sunny and mild October afternoon I found the perfect beer to mark the occasion; another surprising absence from my book of ticks, regular old Boon Oude Geuze.

It's simple and workmanlike, the kind of farmhouse beer that one can actually imagine coming from and belonging in a Belgian farmhouse of old, quenching a labourer's thirst. It did mine, and all I did was get up at 4am to catch a flight to a bar across the sea. There's a decent amount of acidity, lower than the Mariage Parfait or Black Label, but strong enough to give the tongue a good scouring and the palate a welcome jolt. Behind it comes a rather watery wheaty body, lacking the fulsome satisfaction of its older siblings but doing a solid job throughout. 

Something more local next, and the season and setting surely dictates a bokbier. This is Château Akkerman Bokbier from Oedipus, and it's characteristically dark red-brown with a worryingly dull appearance. This whisper of homebrewish amateurism continues in the taste; it works like a disappointingly average beer I'd make at home - something I had high hopes for and, while it didn't mutate horribly into phenolic or acidic doom, just fails to taste alive. In other words, it's muddy yet thin and has unwelcome tannins even though the red berry and toffee characteristics try their level best to keep things cheerful. I left quite a bit of it at my table and went off. 

On a later visit, I stuck with what I know; the wonderful Oerbier.

Northern Farm Eagle

All of the rest of the drinking about town (bar one bottle-read on) happened in the Arendsnest. This time it was properly warmish in the sun so we settled in to our canalside seating and I settled in to De Natte Gijt's 7e Gijtje. This is a session rye saison of just 2.5% and I am pleased to say it is fabulous. It comes bright orange and gives wafts of properly grassy hops, fresh bread and very soft spice of the typical peppery sort. It is by far and way the best beer of this strength or similar that I've tried, the rye being refreshing and bright yet padding out the tiny body admirably. Impressive and delicious, though absolutely sinful to serve in such low quantities. 

Sparked up and in the mood I went for more saison, this a hoppy one named Northern Farm Eagle and, yes, it's a Nordt/Morebeer thing. There's yet more spice in this one in the form of a slightly Dupont-y nose. The body, though, is sweeter than the 7e Gijtje at 5.5%. Again it's got fresh and leafy hops in spades to go with a touch of caramel in its body. More lovely refreshing stuff.

De Prael RIS

By now I was almost too refreshed, so I went for De Prael's R.I.S. It's a good, robust stout of 8.7%, something a more old-fashioned brewer may have called an extra stout, at least in flavour. There is none of the concentration of malt flavour veined with alcohol that many imperial stouts might give you; just solid roast, coffee, tobacco leaf and light milk chocolate on a slick and light body. Decent and uncomplicated.

The next day I returned and commenced my own personal Bokbierfest (not affiliated with the actual PINT Bokbierfest that I always conspire to miss).

First, though, was Uiltje's Commissaris Rex, because its the first time I've seen anything pouring from cask on one of my visits. It's billed as a doppel sticke, so is an altbier of sorts, and arrives a foamy mohogany colour and suggests plenty of bock-like chewy toffee and raisin on the nose. There's a robust bitterness that does great work in balancing that slick, smooth dark malt core, as well as a slight suggestion of booze somewhere in the middle in spite of its inherent drinkability. This is gloriously hearty and satisfying and is truly flourishing on cask, though I'd be happy to find it again in any form possible.

On to bock then with Slot Oostende's Schorrebock. Things take a turn for the sweeter here, showing red berries and marzipan before the finish does its best to dry up, leaving behind forest fruits and caramel. After the fun I had with Rex, it's an unmistakable step down, but serviceable all the same.

SNAB Ezelenbok

Staff here are always thar barr and my server on the day nursed me through my bokbierfest FOMO by offering me samples of the other bocks on offer, her favourite being Kees! Indian Summer Doppelbock. It should be heavy for 8.5% but plays quite light, except there's a light string of hammy smoke running through the pale caramel chewy body. Smoke is something I rarely crave in a beer, and when I do, I find it difficult to see past Schlenkerla. Call me a philistine, I don't care. I passed. 

I didn't pass on SNAB's Ezelenbok 2016, another red-brown number with a big doppelbock-like nose of toffee and orange peel. Beyond that it's rather simple, sweet stuff. 

Also quite simple but in a less enjoyable manner is Leckere's Rode Toren, which is redder and meatier than the Ezelenbok. There's some coarse cereal stuff too, on a powdery milk chocolate base. 

There weren't as many sneaky bottles in accommodation this time around, but I couldn't pass on an Oude Mûre à l'Ancienne from Tilquin. It's murky and flat and an unappealing pink-brown colour. Acid is to the fore here , with the fruit relegated to the latter stages. There's almost no fizz to carry this, making it harder work than I'd like from a Tilquin, but the eye-watering price tag you soldier on.

Much easier going was Datisandere Koekoek from Amsterdammers Bird Brewery, though this was brewed at Jopen. It's a saison and it's actuaslly quite delightful, with white pepper playing off lemongrass effervescence to make for a simple, easy drinker that packs in all the essential saison bits rather neatly. 

There was no rest for the liver thereafter as the following weekend had the Franciscan Well's oft-maligned (by me) October beer festival, but that's for another time.

#342: Edublirghin

It was the start of June and the day was sweaty and dry and I had a few hours to kill in the Christchurch area so it only made sense that I would hobble thirstily into the Beer Market just after opening.

The Sober Destrier was down the road getting tattooed for a couple of hours so the extensive beer list was my liquid oyster yet, despite an embarrassment of mostly imported guest taps, I had to go for a house beer.

Careen is a lager that I believe was billed as German-style without much of an indication as to what that is, but it was bright gold and ever-so-slightly hazy so I'm happy.

I'm happy with the taste too; a softly sweet barley syrup lays the foundation for a fairly robust bitterness. It wavers back and forth between stalky German pils and melanoidin-y malty Helles but either way makes for incredibly refreshing and enjoyable quaffing.

I had a second, with a hape of big chunky chips.

I followed that with Godspeed. This one arrives as a solid, turbid orange scoop. A tart front of mango and pineapple leads the way for sweet creamy sorbet in the finish, staying tropical throughout. There's a flash of soapiness that a cynic might cling to, but for me it was just a passing wave and a common enough risk when a beer goes into Lilt territory. In any case it's tasty and drinkable and a properly fruity palate cleansing sour.

The eve-cap was Banished Sun, an imperial porter of 8%. It comes black and almost headless in the glass. Bittersweet dark chocolate is the main effect of the beer, and it's laid on pretty thick and creamy. There's a time and place for this kind of thing, and this probably wasn't it. In any case it's a bit simple for the strength, lacking anything that would call me back for seconds in future.

And that was Dublin. Not long after that, in the beginning of July, more college work brought the Sober Destrier to Edinburgh, and, though the trip was short and not beer-orientated, it was thrilling to finally set foot in Scotland after many years of delay.

The place 2 b for fancy beers is the Hanging Bat and my first in the door was a Kernel of all things. Their Table Beer it was, a 3.1% that comes pale, slightly hazy and a fun start of new world hop stuff, more tropical than citrus. However, all turns to onion pretty fast which is especially disappointing in such a light and tweensy beer. Such savoury bang makes it way too hard to drink to be anything like a functional table beer so I'm miffed.

So miffed that I dive straight into the deep end with Dry & Bitter/Pyrata's Black Flag collaboration, a thick and oily 13% stout. It has all the expected hallmarks of such a beer minus excessive heat. Funnily enough there's a mild savoury edge to this one too but in a completely different form; here it's a touch of slightly salty soy sauce, a turn I usually associate with a strong black beer that's been aged, barrelled or both, though I don't believe either of those things apply to Black Flag. This is just an aside from the main event, which is a celebration of sweet vanilla and coconut against coffee and dark bitter chocolate.  Lovely stuff, even if it did mean I had to go away and have a nice lie down.

The rest of the beering happened in the naff student accommodation we'd booked in the form of bottles bought at The Salt Horse, a rather smart bottle shop with on-site drinking next door, I think. 

As the last two were forn I went native with Six Degrees North, though this is a native brewery with very Belgian designs for life. This first bottle is a collaboration with D.O.M. brewing, ATC 1.4. It's billed as a Belgian brown fermented in whisky barrels from Speyside, Lowland and Islay blended together. For all that remarkable information it's hardly surprising when the thing comes out weird. It's brown in a Yorkshire relish kind of way, approaching tartness before this is curbed by wood and whisky. At 7.8% there are flares of booze here and there and a finish of apple skin tannins. The afters offer more unusual flair, with blooms of smoke that speak of Islay in a kind of chemically/painty way. Bloody quare fare, and not exactly the kind of thing I'm going to be runing back to, but there you have it.

I was even less impressed by 6°N's collab with Twelve Triangles, ATC 2.2, enticingly featuring sourdough and intriguingly featuring only 2.4% alcohol. A sourdough starter is the thing here, and it hasn't done much. The resulting beer is murky, orange and flat, while a very generous taster will note mild acidity, mild bread and nothing else. Even this is a stretch, with the glass seeming to last for way too long.

A step in the right direction is Brevet Saison from the same brewer, starting out pretty well with soft pepper and floral notes. Unfortunately this turns to syrupy lemon that cloys and destroys. This is #NotMySaison.

The helpful staff in The Salt Horse recommended the wares of Little Earth Project of Suffolk so I went away with Hedgerow Sour - Blackberry and Nettle. As I was warned this one pours dead flat too and cola brown. Excitement comes in the form of a blast of balsamic, wood, sour fruit and acid. Dark fruity malts lay a fairly robust backbone for just 4.7%, but there's none of the cocoa powder softness you might find in other sour brown powerhouses like Rodenbach Grand Cru. For all it's serious puckering sourness it's actually fairly easy and refreshing going down, with a touch of jammy sweetness doing its utmost in the interest of balance. There's plenty of evidence of fruit additions, through not so much of the nettle. This isn't important, as ultimately the experience is a good one.

Similarly uncarbonated is Little Earth's South Island Sour. As the name suggests it does recall flashes of sauvignon blanc, channelling its light acidity and rounder fruit. There's no tropical fruit, though, just a slick presence of lemon and lime with waxy bitterness to offset that light sourness. Decent and enjoyable stuff.