Hello,
the subject of the CAMRA campaign to, in essence, endorse a bottle conditioned beer as being just that is widely recognised to be a well meant disaster that is unhelpful and counterproductive. A slightly negative outlook perhaps, but as someone who has drunk and sold Bottle Conditioned Beers (BCA's) for years, I've had first hand experience of the toxic stock of affirming that something you can't hope to know the taste of is how you define real ale.
Not being a member of the CAMRA (you've seen the CAMRA) I decided to look at their website regarding the above subject here. To be fair, assuming you can get over the sloppiness that leads to them writing "bottle beers" instead of bottled beers, there is a lot more information and useful clarification than I was expecting.
It all sounds very positive and there are good reasons listed for supping a BCA. Disappointingly though, there is no mention of how a brewer gets their product stamped with the logo, and therefore no suggestion of a quality processes. And more damning is reason number 10 for drinking real ale in a bottle - that it tastes better.
To avoid going over old ground lets just remember that a lot of BCA, or, if you must, RAIB, tastes like drek. Sour, soupy, frothing, blobbing, earthy, tart murkiness that usually ends up making its final journey down your sink.
Against that backdrop its notable just how many breweries stick the logo on their bottle labels. What I hadn't thought about was, quite a lot don't. Why?
As you know, on Sunday I held a beer tasting at Beefy Towers (not sure about this moniker...) and we drank some stupendously good beer. What struck me today putting the empty bottles in the recycle bin (ooh get me!) was that only 2 of them carried the CAMRA logo. That, despite the fact that 9 of the 16 beers we drunk were bottle conditioned. Worse, but almost predictably so, the 2 that carried the logo were the least enjoyable of the night.
Admittedly I don't know when the logo started to be used so perhaps the 2006,2007 and 2008 Thornbridge and Fullers beers did not have it to use but Kernel's beers were all BCA as was Ilkley's. Fullers continue to produce their Vintage ale and I don't think I've spotted the CAMRA logo on it.
All sorts of contributory factors can lead to a BCA being a disappointment but in this line up the BCA's sporting the logo were the poor cousins of some impeccable bottled royalty.
Given the huge number of dire producers and products proudly informing the consumer that this is what CAMRA thinks beer should taste like (because its not immediately obvious that its an indicator of secondary fermentation) is it possible perhaps that Ilkley, Kernel and Thornbridge don't think the logo is necessary?
Or do they just not want to be associated with a white elephant concept synonymous with hobby bottlers and undrinkable beer?
Wee Beefy
Showing posts with label CAMRA says this is real ale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CAMRA says this is real ale. Show all posts
Thursday, 24 January 2013
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
The Devil's in the detail
Morning,
I have to stifle a snigger when I read the phrase of the title because its one of many I have attributed to "management" at my employer, and is therefore, of course, to be used sarcastically, and to mock the inconsistencies of messages received from such people.
How apt then, that this cliche applies to bottle conditioned beer labelling, what I see plenty of.
I know from years of experience of Bottle Conditioned Beers (BCA), that there's a tried and tested formula to avoiding fountains, fobbing, foam and frustration. Admittedly this formula relies on the product being drinkable, and Christ, that's a whole other story, but for now I am concentrating on beers you can, or at least could, drink.
I usually chill the BCA in the fridge for half an hour, then let it come back to room temperature. That way its less lively on opening but can still be drunk less chilled if desired. Yet only recently have I noticed any suggestion on BCA bottle labels that the beer should be served cool, or that it could be lively. Here is a range of advice found across a number of excellent bottles, giving mixed messages to the consumer:
Brampton Winter Bock, one of the best bottled beers I tried this year, simply advises that for best results the beer should be "served cooled but not cold, at between 12 and 14 degrees Centigrade".
The Durham Jubilate India Pale Ale advises "Serve at 10 degrees C. This beer may be lively so have a glass to hand when opening". Their 2010 vintage of Temptation advises only "do not serve below 8 degrees C.", and the May 2007 vintage advises that to enjoy the full complexity of flavour it is "best not to chill".
Thornbridge Islay cask reserve stout, bottled 2006, advises only that you "store upright in a dark cool place and pour carefully". Their Alliance sherry cask strong ale, confirms that the bottle contains champagne yeast, and instructs the drinker to "age upright in a cool dark place and pour slowly to allow the natural sediment to remain in the bottle".
Dunham Massey Porter is significantly less verbose and states only that the beer should be served between 12-13 C.
Meanwhile Blue Anchor Spingo advises to "serve slightly chilled and pour with care".
George Gales Prize Old Ale advises "stand for some hours at room temperature" and then, "carefully withdraw the cork and pour slowly"
And finally, Penlon Stock Ram Stout, advises you put the bottle in the fridge for 30 minutes before opening as it is lively! Hurrah! Some decent advice at last! *
The problem with these mixed messages comes when a lack of info results in a poor drinking experience for the consumer. Because the only consistent message seems to be to drink at 8-14 degrees C., and to pour carefully. Only the Spingo (which is an unfailingly dire BCA) suggests chilling to any extent, along with the Penlon beers. The Gales advice is quite detailed, which is ironic, considering how unsophisticated their sherry like offering was, but crucially none of the stronger ales including those you are positively encouraged to age, make any proviso for the obvious result of natural carbonation from the live yeast. Why?
BCA is already a seriously maligned concept suffering from terrible practitioners and poor retailer knowledge. As this shows, a lack of useful labelling advice potentially exacerbates the problem. The label is the producers last chance to influence the consumer's drinking experience, so, whilst label space is limited, maybe include words along the lines of "this beer is conditioned naturally in the bottle and can be lively on opening. For best results please open the bottle chilled to reduce the carbonation. The beer can then be left to reach room temperature, allowing you to fully appreciate the flavours."?
OK, so there's no career for me writing succinct bottle instructions, but the label content is a manageable factor for producers in their products journey to the glass, and easier to control than elements such as the vagaries of staff and retailer knowledge.
Some BCA's don't need chilling. Very few. If chilling reduces the likelihood of more indefensible fountains of failure, then surely that's good advice to impart?
Wee Beefy
*amusingly, Wee Fatha keeps all his BCA's in his "chilled" hallway (non scientific, not always accurate). Without reading the Penlon label I went to open the bottle from the hall at the table, since, last time, there had been a war of attrition between me and Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha to persuade him to refrigerate a wheat beer, which he vehemently opposed as beer "shouldn't need to go in the fridge". And when the Penlon escaped in foam all over his table? He said " you should have put that in the fridge". Thanks for that. The Devil's in the detail it seems....
I have to stifle a snigger when I read the phrase of the title because its one of many I have attributed to "management" at my employer, and is therefore, of course, to be used sarcastically, and to mock the inconsistencies of messages received from such people.
How apt then, that this cliche applies to bottle conditioned beer labelling, what I see plenty of.
I know from years of experience of Bottle Conditioned Beers (BCA), that there's a tried and tested formula to avoiding fountains, fobbing, foam and frustration. Admittedly this formula relies on the product being drinkable, and Christ, that's a whole other story, but for now I am concentrating on beers you can, or at least could, drink.
I usually chill the BCA in the fridge for half an hour, then let it come back to room temperature. That way its less lively on opening but can still be drunk less chilled if desired. Yet only recently have I noticed any suggestion on BCA bottle labels that the beer should be served cool, or that it could be lively. Here is a range of advice found across a number of excellent bottles, giving mixed messages to the consumer:
Brampton Winter Bock, one of the best bottled beers I tried this year, simply advises that for best results the beer should be "served cooled but not cold, at between 12 and 14 degrees Centigrade".
The Durham Jubilate India Pale Ale advises "Serve at 10 degrees C. This beer may be lively so have a glass to hand when opening". Their 2010 vintage of Temptation advises only "do not serve below 8 degrees C.", and the May 2007 vintage advises that to enjoy the full complexity of flavour it is "best not to chill".
Thornbridge Islay cask reserve stout, bottled 2006, advises only that you "store upright in a dark cool place and pour carefully". Their Alliance sherry cask strong ale, confirms that the bottle contains champagne yeast, and instructs the drinker to "age upright in a cool dark place and pour slowly to allow the natural sediment to remain in the bottle".
Dunham Massey Porter is significantly less verbose and states only that the beer should be served between 12-13 C.
Meanwhile Blue Anchor Spingo advises to "serve slightly chilled and pour with care".
George Gales Prize Old Ale advises "stand for some hours at room temperature" and then, "carefully withdraw the cork and pour slowly"
And finally, Penlon Stock Ram Stout, advises you put the bottle in the fridge for 30 minutes before opening as it is lively! Hurrah! Some decent advice at last! *
The problem with these mixed messages comes when a lack of info results in a poor drinking experience for the consumer. Because the only consistent message seems to be to drink at 8-14 degrees C., and to pour carefully. Only the Spingo (which is an unfailingly dire BCA) suggests chilling to any extent, along with the Penlon beers. The Gales advice is quite detailed, which is ironic, considering how unsophisticated their sherry like offering was, but crucially none of the stronger ales including those you are positively encouraged to age, make any proviso for the obvious result of natural carbonation from the live yeast. Why?
BCA is already a seriously maligned concept suffering from terrible practitioners and poor retailer knowledge. As this shows, a lack of useful labelling advice potentially exacerbates the problem. The label is the producers last chance to influence the consumer's drinking experience, so, whilst label space is limited, maybe include words along the lines of "this beer is conditioned naturally in the bottle and can be lively on opening. For best results please open the bottle chilled to reduce the carbonation. The beer can then be left to reach room temperature, allowing you to fully appreciate the flavours."?
OK, so there's no career for me writing succinct bottle instructions, but the label content is a manageable factor for producers in their products journey to the glass, and easier to control than elements such as the vagaries of staff and retailer knowledge.
Some BCA's don't need chilling. Very few. If chilling reduces the likelihood of more indefensible fountains of failure, then surely that's good advice to impart?
Wee Beefy
*amusingly, Wee Fatha keeps all his BCA's in his "chilled" hallway (non scientific, not always accurate). Without reading the Penlon label I went to open the bottle from the hall at the table, since, last time, there had been a war of attrition between me and Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha to persuade him to refrigerate a wheat beer, which he vehemently opposed as beer "shouldn't need to go in the fridge". And when the Penlon escaped in foam all over his table? He said " you should have put that in the fridge". Thanks for that. The Devil's in the detail it seems....
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Open It Big Lad! Open it man!
Good evening,
there I was Saturday night, preparing myself for a very important early kick off in the realm of association football the very next day, and I decided to unleash the wild exotic flavours of one of my old stored beers, maybe as an emboldening of will, or a pre-emptive soother of hurt feelings. As it turned out, this random unplanned decision seemed to accidentally tie in with an event on that Twitter.
Despite not being a Tweetoid, I noted from reading a couple of beer blogs (the first two both in dear old Sheff) that something was on the cards, or rather, that it had been and was now finished. Over the next few days I noticed that a lot of prominent bloggers had partook. The event? #Open It!
Now, putting aside my pickiness about the hash key* (!*=x#!) I perceived that this event was recklessly encouraging the despoiling of a treasured collection of ales. My collection is nearing 20 years old now and is continuously added to. The above justification for opening my bottle reflects the daunting magnitude of the coming event, but I was a little uneasy about the idea that all of a sudden half of the world's aged beers would be lost in a drunken tweet induced haze.
That said, this is not the root cause of my lack or partaking, that lies expressly in my lack of Twitter registration. But it still serves as a rubbish excuse for my being out of the loop, and reporting on something almost a week late....
Anyhoo, to clarify, Open It saw lots of folks across Twitter opening their saved bottles of beer. For more details and a handy logo see the article at the excellent Barl Fire blog (Open it at Barl Fire ). Now I was clear what the idea was, I could rejoice in the random happenstance of my opening an aged beer at the very same time as bloggers and tweeters the world over were accessing their hoards of special occasion bottles. And now I had a beer to tell you about into the bargain. Happy days.
My first offering was Abbaye Des Rocs Speciale Noel, 9.0% from Belgium. I bought it at ARBS yonks ago, and it may be from 2007. Maybe 2008.
It pours dark chestnut brown, almost black, with a thick consistency. It smells like all good aged beer does, but there are a lot of complex alcohol hints in there, particularly brandy, and sherry. There is also marmalade, orange zest and malt. It says "sit down fat boy. You 'll need a rest".
The taste is almost overpowering but quickly becomes sensational with tangerine, sweet alcoholic bite and sherry tones. This initial burst peters out a little and balance comes from the strengthened malt overtones, and a complimentary yeasty taste, which seems to make the mouthfeel warmer and somehow, more alcoholic. As you continue drinking the alcohol is most detectable in the nose.... and the legs. The overall might of flavours is simultaneously enjoyable, but lets you know you have had a strong beer.
There is no head retention until you add the yeast - arguably the yeast perhaps ought to be added in the first instance.
Overall - 8.8 - a scintillating lesson in layered flavours and complimentary ageing of an ale, in the redoubtable Belgian style.
After that joyous experiment I decided to find out what others had experienced whilst joining in. Reading some of the beers that other bloggers have dispatched in the name of Open It, its clearly been a celebration of some of the best and alas, the worst, of beer bottling from around the world. This made me think that I should perhaps open a second of my collection..... So, next up is a beer that I bought from the Dram Shop, Commonside.
I bought 3 bottles of Old Bear brewery beer at the same time. I have had two (both Bruin mild, and WF had one; they have all been rank, undrinkable caskets of cack). So, I thought, I had nothing to lose. I knew Dave had opened his (bottle of this) and poured that away as well, so all I was doing in opening this beer was saving myself disappointment later on.
So the beer chosen was Old Bear Capstan F.S 12.5 %.
My concern was immediately roused by the Best Before date. Given that a 12.5% BCA beer should last about 4 to 20 years with the right yeast, September 2011 seemed a little cautious - granted I don't know when it was bottled, but I only bought it in 2009 or 2010. What could explain such reticence?
Well, all too quickly, my trepidation was justified.
Firstly, there was no carbonation. It poured, clear, and I was able to leave the yeast in the bottle, bar a few clumps of odd coloured detritus that sunk to the bottom of the glass. The smell, whilst I was (essentially) photographing the brew, was initially pleasing. A whole surge of aged alcohol and malt came to the fore but all too quickly was tinged with yeasty badness.
The colour however, was a revelation - a vibrant chestnut brown, with dark amber notes, but with almost no head, except for a microfiine Disprin tidemark as you drank.
In reality Disprin would have been a delicious addition to this one dimensional morass of grim features.
The aroma has quickly shifted form friend to foe. The strong alcohol waft does not dissipate but too soon the yeasty sour fruits arrive and you are left wondering where the hints of balanced malt and bitter in the initial aroma have gone. All these jarring grimace inducing pongs assemble in the first taste. And worse is to come.
Once sips two and three pass your lips you're moustache deep in a trough of sharp yeast. Now the subtle hints of orange and remaining alcohol notes give way to a more prevalent off beer hum. Fruit flavours become soured and apart form a suggestion of peach preserved in alcohol, its yeast in the driving seat from now on.
Its neither as good as it looks or originally smelt. Its unsubtle and utterly one dimensional. As I offered the beer to Chala to get a fresh palate assessment, she refused even to taste it, but said the smell reminded her or sour cherry - I thought of rotting plums when you tip them in the compost bin. Adding the yeast in a desperate attempt to coax some balance from the tangy soup only serves to exacerbate the problem. Its simply an unpleasant beer, half of which I pour away...
So there you have it.
Storing beer for a special occasion (or social media experiment) is a joyous and disappointing experience, depending on which beers you try. Its been encouraging to see good reviews of beers I still have stored, as well as evidence that some beers don't age, or that the yeast is not up to scratch.
The major downsides are pertinent though.
Who says this is real ale?
Firstly, people usually buy strong bottled beer at a premium price, and many years before they intend to open it. Receipts are tricky in such cases, especially if you get them off a market stall or when on holiday.
Worst of all though, this dreadful offering proudly proclaims "CAMRA says this is real ale!". Once more, the folly of encouraging brewers to pour beer and yeast into a bottle and allowing the label to pronounce that this is how beer should taste is writ large. This bizarre promotional claim is either misguided, arrogant or stupid. If I didn't drink real ale and tasted that beer, what conclusion would I draw? That real ale was a nice drink?
Of course not. Its the most damaging idea CAMRA have had since they pursued taking pubs out of the GBG that sold fake-pump Addlestones. And in the end, they get to share the shame of the brewer for producing a product not fit for sale.
Lets try a new scheme instead - "The brewer of this beer wants you to tell them what you think".
To avoid the prevarication and timely efforts of finding the brewers address and wording your letter to suit, just bang some brief comments on a specially set up website or postal address, for all brewers foisting BCA's on us to see, and let them read (or hear) just how crap their offerings so often are - and then publish the results each month. Soon put off the hobby bottlers and novelty short run brewers.....
Humph.
Wee Beefy.
*(surely any title starting with a hash symbol or octothorpe means its a measurement of something - in America it can relate to the cost, I see it as a number in a series, but the twitosphere intend it to mean a keyword or phrase about something. In my day (etc).....)
there I was Saturday night, preparing myself for a very important early kick off in the realm of association football the very next day, and I decided to unleash the wild exotic flavours of one of my old stored beers, maybe as an emboldening of will, or a pre-emptive soother of hurt feelings. As it turned out, this random unplanned decision seemed to accidentally tie in with an event on that Twitter.
Despite not being a Tweetoid, I noted from reading a couple of beer blogs (the first two both in dear old Sheff) that something was on the cards, or rather, that it had been and was now finished. Over the next few days I noticed that a lot of prominent bloggers had partook. The event? #Open It!
Now, putting aside my pickiness about the hash key* (!*=x#!) I perceived that this event was recklessly encouraging the despoiling of a treasured collection of ales. My collection is nearing 20 years old now and is continuously added to. The above justification for opening my bottle reflects the daunting magnitude of the coming event, but I was a little uneasy about the idea that all of a sudden half of the world's aged beers would be lost in a drunken tweet induced haze.
That said, this is not the root cause of my lack or partaking, that lies expressly in my lack of Twitter registration. But it still serves as a rubbish excuse for my being out of the loop, and reporting on something almost a week late....
Anyhoo, to clarify, Open It saw lots of folks across Twitter opening their saved bottles of beer. For more details and a handy logo see the article at the excellent Barl Fire blog (Open it at Barl Fire ). Now I was clear what the idea was, I could rejoice in the random happenstance of my opening an aged beer at the very same time as bloggers and tweeters the world over were accessing their hoards of special occasion bottles. And now I had a beer to tell you about into the bargain. Happy days.
My first offering was Abbaye Des Rocs Speciale Noel, 9.0% from Belgium. I bought it at ARBS yonks ago, and it may be from 2007. Maybe 2008.
It pours dark chestnut brown, almost black, with a thick consistency. It smells like all good aged beer does, but there are a lot of complex alcohol hints in there, particularly brandy, and sherry. There is also marmalade, orange zest and malt. It says "sit down fat boy. You 'll need a rest".
The taste is almost overpowering but quickly becomes sensational with tangerine, sweet alcoholic bite and sherry tones. This initial burst peters out a little and balance comes from the strengthened malt overtones, and a complimentary yeasty taste, which seems to make the mouthfeel warmer and somehow, more alcoholic. As you continue drinking the alcohol is most detectable in the nose.... and the legs. The overall might of flavours is simultaneously enjoyable, but lets you know you have had a strong beer.
There is no head retention until you add the yeast - arguably the yeast perhaps ought to be added in the first instance.
Overall - 8.8 - a scintillating lesson in layered flavours and complimentary ageing of an ale, in the redoubtable Belgian style.
After that joyous experiment I decided to find out what others had experienced whilst joining in. Reading some of the beers that other bloggers have dispatched in the name of Open It, its clearly been a celebration of some of the best and alas, the worst, of beer bottling from around the world. This made me think that I should perhaps open a second of my collection..... So, next up is a beer that I bought from the Dram Shop, Commonside.
I bought 3 bottles of Old Bear brewery beer at the same time. I have had two (both Bruin mild, and WF had one; they have all been rank, undrinkable caskets of cack). So, I thought, I had nothing to lose. I knew Dave had opened his (bottle of this) and poured that away as well, so all I was doing in opening this beer was saving myself disappointment later on.
So the beer chosen was Old Bear Capstan F.S 12.5 %.
My concern was immediately roused by the Best Before date. Given that a 12.5% BCA beer should last about 4 to 20 years with the right yeast, September 2011 seemed a little cautious - granted I don't know when it was bottled, but I only bought it in 2009 or 2010. What could explain such reticence?
Well, all too quickly, my trepidation was justified.
Firstly, there was no carbonation. It poured, clear, and I was able to leave the yeast in the bottle, bar a few clumps of odd coloured detritus that sunk to the bottom of the glass. The smell, whilst I was (essentially) photographing the brew, was initially pleasing. A whole surge of aged alcohol and malt came to the fore but all too quickly was tinged with yeasty badness.
The colour however, was a revelation - a vibrant chestnut brown, with dark amber notes, but with almost no head, except for a microfiine Disprin tidemark as you drank.
In reality Disprin would have been a delicious addition to this one dimensional morass of grim features.
The aroma has quickly shifted form friend to foe. The strong alcohol waft does not dissipate but too soon the yeasty sour fruits arrive and you are left wondering where the hints of balanced malt and bitter in the initial aroma have gone. All these jarring grimace inducing pongs assemble in the first taste. And worse is to come.
Once sips two and three pass your lips you're moustache deep in a trough of sharp yeast. Now the subtle hints of orange and remaining alcohol notes give way to a more prevalent off beer hum. Fruit flavours become soured and apart form a suggestion of peach preserved in alcohol, its yeast in the driving seat from now on.
Its neither as good as it looks or originally smelt. Its unsubtle and utterly one dimensional. As I offered the beer to Chala to get a fresh palate assessment, she refused even to taste it, but said the smell reminded her or sour cherry - I thought of rotting plums when you tip them in the compost bin. Adding the yeast in a desperate attempt to coax some balance from the tangy soup only serves to exacerbate the problem. Its simply an unpleasant beer, half of which I pour away...
So there you have it.
Storing beer for a special occasion (or social media experiment) is a joyous and disappointing experience, depending on which beers you try. Its been encouraging to see good reviews of beers I still have stored, as well as evidence that some beers don't age, or that the yeast is not up to scratch.
The major downsides are pertinent though.
Who says this is real ale?
Firstly, people usually buy strong bottled beer at a premium price, and many years before they intend to open it. Receipts are tricky in such cases, especially if you get them off a market stall or when on holiday.
Worst of all though, this dreadful offering proudly proclaims "CAMRA says this is real ale!". Once more, the folly of encouraging brewers to pour beer and yeast into a bottle and allowing the label to pronounce that this is how beer should taste is writ large. This bizarre promotional claim is either misguided, arrogant or stupid. If I didn't drink real ale and tasted that beer, what conclusion would I draw? That real ale was a nice drink?
Of course not. Its the most damaging idea CAMRA have had since they pursued taking pubs out of the GBG that sold fake-pump Addlestones. And in the end, they get to share the shame of the brewer for producing a product not fit for sale.
Lets try a new scheme instead - "The brewer of this beer wants you to tell them what you think".
To avoid the prevarication and timely efforts of finding the brewers address and wording your letter to suit, just bang some brief comments on a specially set up website or postal address, for all brewers foisting BCA's on us to see, and let them read (or hear) just how crap their offerings so often are - and then publish the results each month. Soon put off the hobby bottlers and novelty short run brewers.....
Humph.
Wee Beefy.
*(surely any title starting with a hash symbol or octothorpe means its a measurement of something - in America it can relate to the cost, I see it as a number in a series, but the twitosphere intend it to mean a keyword or phrase about something. In my day (etc).....)
Sunday, 1 January 2012
Wee Beefys 2012 beer bites - 2 bottled beer reviews
Hello again,
regrettably (or mercifully), 2012 beer bites is not a series of 2,012 separate pieces of information regarding pubs and real ale. Instead its just a title, which I have used before, that has been adapted slightly. So don't panic, you do have time to read this post.
So, here are my reviews of two of my Christmas beer bottle selection this year.
Brewery : Dunham Massey, Cheshire
Name : Milk Stout
Strength : 4.0%
BCA/none BCA? : BCA.
Purchased : Dunham Massey brewery shop.
Here is the beer pictured modelling my rather fetching retro Tolly glass that I was kindly given by the Rutland in Sheffield - cheers gents. Alas the bottle pic did not make it....
Colour : Jet black, with a thin white head
Carbonation/Pouring : low, poured flat, with some latter bubbles joining the head, however the lack of carbonation was a benefit as excessive fizz disturbs the yeast sediment.
Aroma : Oh dear.
I had smelt the particular aroma that greeted me on opening the bottle, and then on pouring into the glass, before. It was the rank smell of sour beer and nasty yeast. Dear god, I thought, here I am about to review a beer, a bottle conditioned one at that, and from a brewery I reckon have nailed bottle conditioning, and its only gone and been orf! I sighed whilst looking at the "CAMRA says this is real ale" logo and remembered disconsolately how many times that sticker adhered to the label of a bottle of undrinkable filth, and how bad that was for real ale, and how I would have to solemnlyy concede to Wee Keefy that even a brewery I rated had got it wrong, and then I had a sip. And it was fine.
Taste : somehow the first swig, despite the smell, tasted of dark beer, and in the second, somehow that initial grimace making aroma was gone. Now almost all I could smell was roast malt.
The main flavour that hits you is a very ascorbic dry roast malt, like a much meatier stout than one you might find labelled milk stout (the milk, of course, is just lactose but it still usually renders the stout sweet). In the second taste the roast malt gives way to a light creaminess, before a further wave or roast malt bitterness comes through.
As you take more slakes there is a strange but by no means unpleasant lemon sherbets fizz in the mix, I wondered if this might be the sweetness of the lactose fighting through the roast malts. The beer is described on the label as a sweet stout but, it certainly isn't that, which is maybe to its credit.
Head retention - the head is very thin and very quickly moves to the edge of the glass and slips slowly lower with the beer, leaving no trace on the glass, and looking not unlike a thin halo of white icing that hasn't separated from the cake.
WBrating : 6.5
Loses points for scaring off less trusting drinkers with its initial aroma, and for being, although nice, not much like it claims to be.
Beer number 2:
Brewery : Tatton brewery company, Cheshire
Name : Ale
Strength : 3.7%
BCA/none BCA? : none.
Purchased - Tatton brewery shop
Colour : dark varnished wood, virtually red, with a lustrous frothy head.
Carbonation/Pouring : very lively if not well chilled, however the beer does settle down quickly allowing you to enjoy mostly burp free beer. The carbonation does remain throughout however.
Aroma : strangely, almost no malt or hops, just subtle spice, apples and grapefruit.
Taste : Grapefruit, and biscuity malt hit you initially with a long dry fizzy hop finish. Its startlingly snappy for a lower gravity ale, and although the bitterness is warmed by malt in the background it still has a very pleasing bite, albeit more traditional English than Nelson Sauvin as is often found in bitter beer these days.
The second taste is even more bitter, but its tamed by a sweeter flavour perhaps the malt. As you continue drinking, the long bitter grapefruit finish seems to increase its bite. The beer would probably lose its sharpness if chilled so make sure you serve it at room temperature. Despite my attention being drawn by the bitterness its not unpleasant or overpowering and is a very well balanced beer overall.
Head retention - the head is quite large, possibly a temperature issue, but it follows the beer loyally down the glass leaving sparkling white trails behind it, and remains sat in the middle as well as round the edges to the bottom of the glass, which is pleasing on the eye.
WBrating : 8.5
Gains extra points for being far more astringent and packing in much more flavour than the ABV suggests.
Happy supping!
Wee Beefy.
regrettably (or mercifully), 2012 beer bites is not a series of 2,012 separate pieces of information regarding pubs and real ale. Instead its just a title, which I have used before, that has been adapted slightly. So don't panic, you do have time to read this post.
So, here are my reviews of two of my Christmas beer bottle selection this year.
Brewery : Dunham Massey, Cheshire
Name : Milk Stout
Strength : 4.0%
BCA/none BCA? : BCA.
Purchased : Dunham Massey brewery shop.
Here is the beer pictured modelling my rather fetching retro Tolly glass that I was kindly given by the Rutland in Sheffield - cheers gents. Alas the bottle pic did not make it....
Colour : Jet black, with a thin white head
Carbonation/Pouring : low, poured flat, with some latter bubbles joining the head, however the lack of carbonation was a benefit as excessive fizz disturbs the yeast sediment.
Aroma : Oh dear.
I had smelt the particular aroma that greeted me on opening the bottle, and then on pouring into the glass, before. It was the rank smell of sour beer and nasty yeast. Dear god, I thought, here I am about to review a beer, a bottle conditioned one at that, and from a brewery I reckon have nailed bottle conditioning, and its only gone and been orf! I sighed whilst looking at the "CAMRA says this is real ale" logo and remembered disconsolately how many times that sticker adhered to the label of a bottle of undrinkable filth, and how bad that was for real ale, and how I would have to solemnlyy concede to Wee Keefy that even a brewery I rated had got it wrong, and then I had a sip. And it was fine.
Taste : somehow the first swig, despite the smell, tasted of dark beer, and in the second, somehow that initial grimace making aroma was gone. Now almost all I could smell was roast malt.
The main flavour that hits you is a very ascorbic dry roast malt, like a much meatier stout than one you might find labelled milk stout (the milk, of course, is just lactose but it still usually renders the stout sweet). In the second taste the roast malt gives way to a light creaminess, before a further wave or roast malt bitterness comes through.
As you take more slakes there is a strange but by no means unpleasant lemon sherbets fizz in the mix, I wondered if this might be the sweetness of the lactose fighting through the roast malts. The beer is described on the label as a sweet stout but, it certainly isn't that, which is maybe to its credit.
Head retention - the head is very thin and very quickly moves to the edge of the glass and slips slowly lower with the beer, leaving no trace on the glass, and looking not unlike a thin halo of white icing that hasn't separated from the cake.
WBrating : 6.5
Loses points for scaring off less trusting drinkers with its initial aroma, and for being, although nice, not much like it claims to be.
Beer number 2:
Brewery : Tatton brewery company, Cheshire
Name : Ale
Strength : 3.7%
BCA/none BCA? : none.
Purchased - Tatton brewery shop
Colour : dark varnished wood, virtually red, with a lustrous frothy head.
Carbonation/Pouring : very lively if not well chilled, however the beer does settle down quickly allowing you to enjoy mostly burp free beer. The carbonation does remain throughout however.
Aroma : strangely, almost no malt or hops, just subtle spice, apples and grapefruit.
Taste : Grapefruit, and biscuity malt hit you initially with a long dry fizzy hop finish. Its startlingly snappy for a lower gravity ale, and although the bitterness is warmed by malt in the background it still has a very pleasing bite, albeit more traditional English than Nelson Sauvin as is often found in bitter beer these days.
The second taste is even more bitter, but its tamed by a sweeter flavour perhaps the malt. As you continue drinking, the long bitter grapefruit finish seems to increase its bite. The beer would probably lose its sharpness if chilled so make sure you serve it at room temperature. Despite my attention being drawn by the bitterness its not unpleasant or overpowering and is a very well balanced beer overall.
Head retention - the head is quite large, possibly a temperature issue, but it follows the beer loyally down the glass leaving sparkling white trails behind it, and remains sat in the middle as well as round the edges to the bottom of the glass, which is pleasing on the eye.
WBrating : 8.5
Gains extra points for being far more astringent and packing in much more flavour than the ABV suggests.
Happy supping!
Wee Beefy.
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