#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.

#377: Crisp de Burghs

Illness has thwarted by grand designs to take part in the most recent Session, where hosts Boak and Bailey ask What is the best beer you can have at home right now? When able, I'd like to rehash my planned contribution into a sort of post about the house beer situation. Spoiler alert, its liable to be a German lager.

But for now, we settle for reflecttion on the previous week's German lager, the highly regarded Hopburgh Helles from the Alpine idyll of Smithfield, Dublin 7. It pours the colour of golden syrup and despite a fairly lively carbonation the head is loose with big wobbly bubbles that disappear all to quickly. That's about the last wobble of the evening though, because this beer is lovely; big stalky bitterness and, would you believe it, golden syrup on the nose. On the palate there's a suggestion of lemongrass and marshmallow, simultaneously bringing to mind not just native German helles but also Bohemian pils. In this way it's not unlike the Leikeim Pils from a couple of weeks ago, although I would take the Hopburgh over that beer any day. Beautiful, and when it costs more than an Augustiner, it ought to be. 

Not wasting any time we dive straight into the Hopburgh Schwarzbier. I fancy all types of dark lager but this is probably the one I have the loosest grasp on. Like the Helles it pours perfectly clear but in the colour a dark and particularly reddish cola. The foam is slightly more stable on this one too which is a nice bonus. There's a hint of smoke on the nose, rather surprisingly, but this doesn't follow up on the palate, rather unsurprisingly. Instead it's a delightful twirl of raisin and chocolate, with Café Noir biscuit underscoring the finish. Over time the bitterness - always there but rather subtle to begin with - intensifies and combines with the sweeter malts to give a sort of liquorice effect. Beautiful.

Both of these beers are triumphs, and worth the admittedly eyebrow-raising price attached to them.

 

#376: Dieu et Moinette

Surprisingly, this is my first time getting up close and personal with a Moinette despite being a card carrying member of the Dupont fanclub.

Described only as a blond, Moinette Blonde pours much like its more famous little brother the Saison Dupont, pale and highly effervescent with some sediment that demands careful decanting. It also has a touch of the saison's aroma; loads of white pepper and a touch of lemongrass, but the main event even on the nose is a rich and boozy honey and caramel. It's incredibly inviting so I don't dally too long. There's a beautiful malted biscuit on the palate with more of that gentle sprinkling of pepper and some green herbal crunch, maybe a dusting of rosemary? It's subtle enough that note, with yeast coming to the fore mainly as as Dupont white pepper and only moreso as the beer warms up and oxidises, bringing with it some lovely dried and candied fruit notes. 

For all the sweetness - and I must emphasise that this is mainly a sweet affair - the finish winds down to dry almond, making the whole thing delightfully moreish.

There's an argument that this sort of thing isn't the most complex or multi layered beer, something that, at a demanding 8.5%, could be a real bummer. As I see it, its simplicity is its virtue. For an unashamed fan of knuckledragging sugarbooze as well as refined biéres d'art there's plenty here to enjoy, especially with so much of that familiar Dupont yeast character on show. 

Why isn't this called a tripel? I don't know, but the unassuming moniker of Blonde may be a classic case of under-promise, over-deliver. 

#375: Leikeim? I Hardly Know 'em!

 I don't know what a landbier is. In fact, a landbier might be nothing at all. A quick click around Google tells us it's simply - predictably - land beer or beer of the land or country beer. Essentially, a marketing name for any beer from a (presumably rural) German brewer that doesn't fit neatly into an established category of its own. As vague as that may be, I'm happy to roll with it. 

Leikeim Landbier tastes every bit a lager, more of a helles than a pils and with a lovely fullsome grain to it. It's not particularly hoppy but it is well balanced, with just a pale suggestion of grass. At 5.4% it's a bit chewy, dare I say even flabby, its full strength not quite delivering much value. A perfectly nice lager then, but the most distinctive thing about this is its landbier 'designation'. 

We're on much firmer ground with Leikeim Pils. This one is a more standard 4.9% and pours a wonderfully crystal pale straw. It's enticingly fresh and grassy, perhaps not as much as Jever (my personal benchmark for a German pils) but after the relative non-event of the Landbier its nice to have more assertive nobles on show. Leikeim are a Franconian outfit and there's something distinctly Franconian to be found in the malt profile here - not the clean grain nothings of the nordsee, nor the pillowy marshmallow of Bohemia, but just as in its geography it is closer to the latter than the former. This gently sweet biscuit wouldn't be out of place in a Helles but it's certainly lighter, paler and cleaner than most of its Bavarian cousins. Malt is fun! The beer is fun too, a perfectly pleasant pils, if not the bitter noble skunk of my heart's desire.

We round out the trio with the Steinbier, a word that exists in my mind mainly as a segment in an episode of Michael Jackson's Beer Hunter TV series. I watched those six episodes to death in the very earliest days of my beer obsession, fascinated by the styles and traditions described but more infatuated with this glimpse of a world, a culture that was (at my time of viewing) already old and changed immeasurably.

Tasting a beer like a Steinbier is exciting for the same reason - here is a living relic, a thing that is done not because it is easy or convenient but because this is how it's done, we like it this way. To my mind, the hot stones added to the mash of a steinbier are supposed to caramelise some malt sugars and impart some wisp of smoke. There's not much of either going on in this one. OK, it is sweet, but not excessively or unusually so. Its mildly raisiny malt and toffeeish stuff is about is distinct as it gets. Like the Landbier, this one doesn't achieve great value for its ABV either, in this case 5.8%. The body is about right, being 'medium' or so, but you'll have had fuller bodies in weaker helles'.

Maybe I'm nitpicking - and missing the point - but this modern drinker was hoping for more novelty from this novel tradition. 

A decent set, but the pils is clearly going to be my pick if I'm ever back among the Leikeims.