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.

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

Finally, our first of several trips north of the border to Scotland. I’m wondering if this will be a nostalgic experience, reminiscent of my student years drinking 80/- ales in the pubs and bars of Edinburgh until 3am.

That said, my only actual experience of Harviestoun’s beers dates from far more recently, here in London. I’ve had their Old Engine Oil porter a few times in The Commercial, SE24, and couldn’t get enough of it.

This one seems a bit of an enigma though. Its Clackmannanshire provenance suggests a smooth Scottish ale, the name suggests it might be a bitter, but the label tells me it’s a blond beer. There’s only one way to settle this.

Fair enough, it’s a blond, bitter Scottish ale, and very nice it is too. As is often the case in Scotland, it’s made from Barley, Wheat and Oats, which is about the only thing it has in common with Bosteels Karmeliet Tripel.

At 4.2% the Bitter and Twisted is eminently sessionable. In that respect, we’re vaguely into the territory inhabited by the recent Timothy Taylor’s Landlord, but I have to say this one is noticeably more exciting and indeed satisfying.

This is a really good, hoppy bitter and it’s hopelessly drinkable. I’m not sure I picked up on the “like the twist of a lemon” notes that the bottle promises, but that’s probably for the best given my tastes. The hops are front and centre, and deliver a mouthwatering bitterness, while the restrained use of carbonation prevents things getting gassy.

Good stuff, and I’d certainly knock back another bottle if I had one. Perhaps more to the point, I’d love to find this in more London pubs in place of the relentless tide of Doom Bar and London Pride that we’re usually offered.

Facts and Figures