#387: Mescing

At one point in time you might have referred to Mescan as Ireland's resident Belgophiles, but these days I can think of two or three other brewers who might count themselves as such a thing. Still, none other have opted for the stubby Duvel skittle bottles or have pitched themselves as something like a local village abbey brewery, and for that alone Mescan deserve some credit. And so, to celebrate Lá Fhéile Bríde recently it seemed apt to opt for Westport Blond, twelve years after its first appearance on the blog (and since the last mention of Mescan on the blog at all).

Such a plain billing as blond doesn't usually get me excited even when the beer comes from a Low Country but my pleasant surprise with Moinette Blond - along with the fact that so many of the world's most beautiful beers could concievably be called blond ale - leaves me hoping for something fun. What I'm hoping for from a sub-5%-er is a bit of quaffable and quenching yeasty prickle. It's not quite what you get. The spicing here (and of course I'm just referring to the fermentation esters on show) are more wit-like in character; lemon zest and lemongrass abound, with an almost juicy quality thanks to the slightly tart finish. As the beer warms a little there is a simply wonderful and uncanny ripe raspbery aroma that follows through on the palate. If blindfolded and going by the aroma alone, I reckon there's a good chance I might have pegged this for being fruited. There's no sugaryness to the taste though, to the extent where it could actually have used more. As a result it ends up feeling slightly thin and wan, relying on a rush of spirited carbonation, a mild wheaty body and just a hint of lemony tartness to quench the thirst.

And it does quench the thirst. A rainy bank holiday in February is not the worst time for any beer, but this will clearly come into its element in high summer. 

All in all, while slightly plainer than I'd hoped, it more than delivers as a plain Belgian quaffer, with more of a fruity wheaty slant than a dry spicy one. 

Stepping things up is the Red Tripel, which isn't really red but it certainly is a tripel. While lowish on aromatic heft the details are all there - the slightly heady strength, leafy herbals, a sprinking of pepper. The slightly hazy amber doesn't look particularly red but it does suggest some body and this is delivered in the form of honey, marshmallow and warm fermentation sweetness. Over time a touch of banana edges into the aroma and manages to add jollity rather than cloying nonsense. Warm, estery aromatics do develop further over time but never to the extent that you might get from one of the more aromatic tripels or even the (in my opinion) more sweet dominated Westmalle. Ultimately, it's a lovely simple sipper with plenty of cockle-warming credentials and that's more than enough for me. 

#234: Divine Inspiration

When I heard that there was an Irish brewery starting up with a mission to commercially brew Belgian beer styles - with dedication to the point of using classic Belgian Duvel style stubby bottles - I was very excited. That brewery was Holy Mountain in Mayo. Much hard work in the neat farmhouse brewery (documented here) as well as a name change to Mescan, and beers are finally flowing. Distribution is low, so it took a trip to Mayo by what must be a very dedicated Bierhaus team for me to get my hands on a trio of bottles.

I started with the Stout, which pours suspiciously pale for the style, showing plenty of light through its red/brown depths. There's nothing iffy about the nose though; slightly smoky dark fruit and a hint of tobacco, which much of the same on the palate. Blackberries and roasty malts fight to be heard over a very effervescent delivery but just about get the job done. While hinting towards the darker, more savoury aspects of Foreign Extra, it remains resolutely conservative, and more drinkable for it. Not bad at all.

The White followed, and just like the stout, it proved incredibly drinkable fare. Despite not listing any spice among the ingredients, this white delivers a heavy handed hit of coriander and clove atop the light, citrusy wheatiness. This perfectly offsets the sweetness of said malts, avoiding flirtation with cloying over-sweetness in a way that Olé Olé couldn't. A solid wit to add to Ireland's roster.

I finished on the Blond, which, despite once again being a quite sinkable affair, failed to produce as much notable characteristics as the other two. Sure, there's the background of caramel biscuit, a whiff of citrus fruitiness, and a finish that pines towards a spiciness that is just unwilling to attend, but this beer passes by too easily for my liking. Unlike the other two, which managed to be eminently drinkable while asserting their own character, the Blond fails to perform for me.

All in all, a good showing from Mescan who, despite all the hard work to date, are still at very early stage. I look forward to seeing what they do with the bigger Belgian styles.