Category Archives: Beers

The beers

33. Rochefort 6

Still more Belgian monk beer for us to try, and yet this is only the first of three Trappistes Rochefort offerings that we have to work our way through.

The Rochefort beers are numbered 6, 8 and 10, with this one being the weakest of the triptych at a mere 7.5% ABV. One starts to wonder whether the cloistered Trappist lifestyle is quite as sober as they make it out to be.

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Rochefort 6 pours a rather nice looking, fairish golden ruby colour. There’s an overwhelming amount of froth, which dissipates so slowly that it’s difficult to pour, let alone drink, the beer.

There’s very little on the nose, just a faint beery smell with a tiny hint of the esters for which Belgian beer is known.

To taste, though, it’s fruit, fruit, fruit. In that regard Rochefort 6 is not unlike our previous Trappist beer, the Westmalle Dubbel, though it’s somewhat lighter, with a sweetness that’s a little reminiscent of a barleywine.

For all of its 7.5% ABV payload, Rochefort 6 is surprisingly refreshing, though the strength is not hidden. With its vinous finish, I can picture it working well after dinner, perhaps with strong cheeses. I haven’t actually tried that so don’t quote me on it. (I drank mine stood in the kitchen with a large cat on my shoulder, perhaps not the ideal use case).

All in all, I’m starting to see why “Trappist Beer” warrants its own section in The Book, as a style quite separate from the Belgian blonde beers such as Bosteels Karmeliet Tripel and Achouffe La Chouffe. While the latter exude noxious herbal esters and overbearing, imminent-hangover alcohol, the Trappist beers are all fruit, with a malty depth and comforting, warming booziness. I know which I prefer.

As I mentioned, there are two more Trappistes Rochefort beers to track down, which I’ll try to do in short order.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Abbaye Notre-Dame de Saint-Remy, Rochefort, Belgium
Style: Trappist Beers
ABV: 7.5%
Found at: Bossman Wines, Lordship Lane, London SE22
Dispense: 330ml Bottle

32. Thornbridge Jaipur IPA

Now, here’s a post that I could probably write without even drinking the beer, being rather well acquainted with Thornbridge Jaipur IPA already.

Having said that, there are rules we must follow on this blog. I’m simply obliged to go and buy another bottle. Such hardship.

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Thornbridge are one of the success stories of contemporary British brewing. Beginning life as a tiny craft outfit just eight years ago, they’ve managed to marry a traditional product—real ale—with bang up-to-date science and technology, along with an obvious nose and drive for business. In doing so, they’ve grown into one of the biggest names in the field today.

Over the years, Thornbridge have created a prolific range of beers, all of them innovative and of the highest quality, and at the same time, a burgeoning pub empire has emerged, particularly in and around Sheffield in the north of England.

Of their beers, Jaipur is probably the best known and most widely available, and it’s fast becoming the modern British IPA against which all are to be compared. It’s the epitome of a contemporary citrus hop bomb.

I must confess I’m a little spoilt when it comes to Jaipur, having last year enjoyed a couple of pints kept and presented to absolute perfection in one of Thornbridge’s own pubs, the rather lovely Coach & Horses in Dronfield.

Served from cask, the smooth head and restrained natural carbonation help to balance out those zingy hops, resulting in a terrifically satisfying, moreish pint.

In a bottle, Jaipur is a somewhat different proposal, as you’re hit full in the face by the huge fresh, bitter hops with their quite literally mouth-watering lemon and grapefruit nose.

It’s a bracing beer, yet served lightly chilled Jaipur is thoroughly refreshing. Then, as it warms towards room temperature, a biscuity, malty depth emerges and the finish gets longer and longer. This is an unmistakeable sign of a top notch IPA.

Jaipur is one of those beers that fits any occasion, but it’d be especially suitable as a chilled summer beer, as well as being the perfect accompaniment to a good curry. I simply can’t think of a better beer to go with a chicken biryani, for example, and that’s exactly how I enjoyed this one.

A true modern classic.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Thornbridge, Bakewell, Derbyshire, England
Style: India Pale Ales
ABV: 5.9%
Found at: Waitrose, Whitecross Street, London EC1
Dispense: 500ml Bottle

31. Westmalle Dubbel

Our latest offering from the many brewing monks of Belgian comes from Westmalle, the second largest of the country’s Trappist breweries after Chimay.

Speaking of whom, I’m vaguely expecting Westmalle Dubbel to be reminiscent of Chimay Rouge, their both being 7.0% ABV Trappist beers with, er, with red labels. But appearances can be deceptive, so it’s time once again to fire up the trusty bottle opener and find out.

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Westmalle Dubbel pours a lovely deep ruby colour, not dissimilar to, but darker and less cloudy than the Chimay Rouge, and with a big, fluffy white head that soon condenses to a dark beige lacing.

There’s a lovely, fruity, berry-like nose with inviting, boozy alcohol notes. I’m reminded immediately of Brakspear Triple, and can’t help but remark what an achievement is it for that plucky Oxfordshire brewery to be making beers that compare so well with these revered, ancient Belgian brews.

There are similarities in the flavour too: there’s yet more dark, sinister fruit, toasty malts and butterscotch sweetness. The body is surprisingly light, though far from watery, and I wonder how that would change if one were to age a bottle for a couple of years or more.

There’s a lightish finish too, with more toasty, slightly bitter butterscotch. That’s a result of the brewing process, which sees the wort being boiled over a direct flame, allowing some of the sugars to caramelise.

Finally there’s a pleasant warming afterglow from the alcohol, which I suppose there should be at 7% ABV, though it’s curious how that starts to seem like quite a low number after some other Belgian beers I’ve recently blogged!

All in all, Westmalle Dubbel is really quite a wonderful beer and I’ve no doubt I would buy it again. There’s also a Westmalle Tripel to track down—at a mere 9.5% ABV or so—and I’ll certainly be looking forward to that.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Brouwerij der Trappisten van Westmalle, Westmalle, Belgium
Style: Trappist Beers
ABV: 7.0%
Found at: Bossman Wines, Lordship Lane, London SE22
Dispense: 330ml Bottle

30. Franziskaner Weissbier

As we reach one tenth of our way through The Book, we’d probably better tick off another of the many wheat beers.

Whilst I won’t pretend the style is my favourite, the two examples I’ve covered so far—the Weihenstephaner Hefe Weissbier and the 8.2% ABV Schneider Aventinus—didn’t turn out to be too much of an ordeal, so let’s try another one.

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Franziskaner certainly looks the part, being a cloudy blonde colour with a large white head. There’s the usual reference to monks on the label and in the naming, as seems to be almost obligatory in Northern Europe.

As for the flavour, to me this tastes like a typical wheat beer: more so than the surprisingly delicate Weihenstephaner, which is probably why I’m enjoying it less. On the other hand it’s less interesting than the Schneider Aventinus, whilst thankfully being more restrained in flavour than the ubiquitous Hoegaarden.

It’s hard to find anything particularly interesting to say about Franziskaner Weissbier. Nothing really jumps out about the flavour, but if you want a fairly standard wheat beer that’s widely available in supermarkets and the like, you could probably do a lot worse.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Spaten-Franziskaner-Bräu GmbH, Munich, Germany
Style: Wheat Beers
Strength: 5.0% ABV
Found at: Sainsbury’s, Westow Street, London SE19
Serving: 500ml Bottle

29. Orval

The quite frankly prodigious contribution of Belgian monks to the world of beer continues with this Trappist ale from the tiny village of Villers-devant-Orval.

Orval

Orval pours a little darker than I expected, a fairly deep honey colour, though nowhere approaching the darkness of, say, Chimay Rouge. It’s slightly hazy, though perhaps I could have let it settle a while longer before opening. There’s more head than beer at first, but it fades quite promptly.

Labelled at a comparatively shandy-drinking 6.2% ABV, I think this might be the weakest Belgian beer so far, though it is bottle-conditioned, and there are apparently enough hops and sugar in the bottle that subsequent fermentation can see it reach about 7.0%.

It’s actually, and perhaps thankfully, somewhat different to a lot of the blonde Belgians we’ve seen. It’s smoother, and there’s none of that strange “Belgian” flavour that I can’t really describe, but would recognise a mile off (think Leffe Blonde).

It’s very drinkable, but there’s enough depth to savour, and there’s a gigantic hoppy finish. The bitterness is initially quite satisfying, but it’s so intense that it soon becomes distinctly salty, specifically sea salt. That’s something I’ve only previously noticed with Beavertown’s Black Betty black IPA. I’m not sure if it’s to do with the use of dry hopping (adding a handful of hops to the finished beer) but it really is quite prominent.

Whilst not a patch on the Chimay Bleue, Orval is up there among my favourite Belgian beers so far, but that saltiness means I’ll stick at one for now.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Brasserie d’Orval s.a., Villers-devant-Orval, Belgium
Style: Trappist Beers
Strength: 6.2% ABV
Found at: Bossman Wines, Lordship Lane, London SE22
Serving: 330ml bottle

28. Innis & Gunn Oak Aged Beer

Back north of the border we go, for this strong Scottish ale. And this is no ordinary ale as, once brewed, Innis & Gunn Original is matured for over 70 days, 30 of which are in oak barrels of the type more typically used to age wines and spirits, such as cognac.

This is actually one beer that I’m already familiar with. At the risk of spoiling the surprise, I happen to think this is a bit of a cracker.

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Innis & Gunn Original is a lovely, deep honey colour, and it’s no surprise that they’ve chosen a colourless bottle to show it off. In fact, a lot of pride has gone into the presentation in general, for example that ornate, shiny label.

The beer pours with little to no head, just a light lacing. There’s a distinctive aroma suggesting that this is something a little different, with the oakiness immediately becoming apparent, and reminiscent of an oaked Chardonnay.

The oak carries across into the flavour, where it’s smoky and fat, and is joined by butterscotch, toffee, bitter orange, strong vanilla and even cognac-like notes. There’s just enough sweetness to balance out the 6.6% strength.

This is a very complex beer indeed, and it really works, since all the flavours combine perfectly into something a bit special.

Strangely enough, though, I don’t think I could manage more than one. It’s such a rich beer, and the sweetness could become a little cloying, but enjoyed in moderation it’s unusually good.

Very much a favourite, and incidentally, there is also a “Rum Finish” version of this beer, which is aged in casks which—as the name suggests—have previously held dark rum. The rum notes are very noticeable, and it works remarkably well.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Innis & Gunn Brewing Co, Edinburgh, Scotland
Style: Scottish Ales
ABV: 6.6%
Found at: Waitrose, Whitecross Street, London EC1
Dispense: 330ml Bottle

27. Kirin Ichiban

Now then. Finally an actual bottle of pale lager that has no pretensions of being anything else. There are—perhaps unsurprisingly—very few of these in The Book, and whilst I’m by no means a lager drinker, I’m willing to consider that the handful that are in there are chosen for a reason.

Apparently Ichiban (meaning “the first”) is made with the single, first pressing of the wort in the mash tun. The finer points of the mechanics of brewing are lost on me, but I suppose that must be the beery equivalent of making extra virgin olive oil.

Kirin Ichiban

Kirin Ichiban certainly looks the part, with its very smart silver and gold embossed label featuring Japanese text and an ornate depiction of what seems to be a horse/dragon hybrid creature.

It’s pretty fizzy and pale, as befits a lager, with a generous frothy white head. There’s a nice malty whiff to it that I’m starting to learn is typical of the better quality examples of the style.

Ichiban is actually rather tasty. It’s fuller-bodied than expected, and very refreshing, but with enough of bitter finish to make this really quite a satisfying bottle of beer. Not bad at all.

Incidentally, I note that my bottle is actually brewed under licence in the UK, by Wells & Young’s of all people. It would be interesting to see how the original Japanese version compares.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Wells and Young’s, Bedford, England
Style: Pale Lagers
ABV: 5.0%
Found at: Bossman Wines, Lordship Lane, London SE22
Dispense: 330ml Bottle

26. Achouffe La Chouffe

Time for yet another super-strength Belgian blonde beer. This time, however, the label forgoes the standard allusions to monks, abbeys and the Middle Ages. Instead we have this funny little bearded cartoon gnome character—the eponymous “La Chouffe”.

In fact, rather than tracing its heritage back to some distant historical legend involving cloistered friars and royal benefactors, the Brasserie d’Achouffe dates from the 1970s, when two Belgian home brewers decided to give up their day jobs. This could be interesting.

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While it pours somewhat darker, La Chouffe doesn’t taste a great deal different to Bosteels Karmeliet Tripel but is smoother, dryer and a little fuller-bodied. It’s drinkable enough, and doesn’t taste as strong as 8% ABV.

Apparently the beer is flavoured with coriander. I couldn’t detect it at all, but I may be alone in that, since others could.

I don’t mind La Chouffe at all, though on the other hand I still find it hard to get excited by beers of this style.

Perhaps the reason that a lot of these extra strong Belgian beers are lost on me is to do with context. A beverage like this probably isn’t designed for an icy South London evening. Drinking it in the sun outside a Sainte-Catherine café bar with Moules-frites might be quite a different experience.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Brasserie d’Achouffe, Achouffe, Belgium
Style: Golden Ales
ABV: 8.0%
Found at: City Beverage Company, Old Street, London EC1
Dispense: 330ml Bottle

25. Greene King Abbot Ale

Time for another of the many widely-available, slightly less than exciting English bitters that pervade The Book.

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Unfortunately Abbot Ale does little to counter my growing ennui with the style. It tastes like an English bitter, though it’s a little smoother than many. The malt and hops are very well balanced, but there’s a faintly stinky whiff to it that also comes across in the flavour.

If you concentrate, there’s a slightly dry, bitter finish, but at a mere 26 bitterness units we are going to require chess Grandmaster levels of concentration to spot it.

It seems possible that Abbot Ale has the potential to be a much better beer on cask, if well-kept and served at its best, but I won’t go out of my way to find out, since it has been quite unremarkable the few times I have had it in pubs.

On a more positive note, I can recommend the seasonal, and much stronger Abbot Reserve, if you can find it.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Greene King Brewery, Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk, England
Style: Best Bitters
ABV: 5.0%
Found at: Maxy Supermarket, Norwood Road, London SE24
Dispense: 500ml Bottle

24. Anchor Liberty Ale

Having been so pleasantly surprised by Anchor Steam Beer, I was impatient to crack on with the second in the triumvirate of Anchor beers in The Book (on which note, if anyone knows where I can find the Old Foghorn in London, do let me know).

Anchor Liberty Ale comes in a similar bottle to the Steam Beer, but with its very own sailor tattoo. Let’s see how it compares.

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Liberty Ale pours a nice enough, slightly hazy golden colour, and is relatively pale even for a Pale Ale.

In our big yellow bible of beer, Roger Protz describes Liberty Ale as “massively” hoppy, and “an assault of pine and grapefruit”, followed by a “long and lingering finish”. He must have more sensitive tastebuds than me, because to me it just tastes a little bit hoppy, and a little bit plain, with something a bit funky going on in the aftertaste. That’s the bad kind of funk rather than the Nile Rodgers kind.

In some ways I’m not surprised to learn the Liberty Ale was inspired by fairly dull English bitters like Timothy Taylor’s Landlord and the Marston’s Pedigree I bought some time ago and haven’t troubled myself to drink yet.

It’s not a patch on the Anchor Steam Beer, and once again I feel I’m being slightly unfair in comparing one beer to a quite different beer that I just happened to like, but there you go, it’s my blog. It’s not a bad beer, but to my tastes, nothing to write home about.

Facts and Figures

Brewery: Anchor Brewing Co, San Francisco, CA
Style: Pale Ales
ABV: 5.9%
Found at: Bossman Wines, Lordship Lane, London SE22
Dispense: 355ml Bottle