Verbatim:Another beer from the island that gives me my beloved Highland Park whisky. This was a Christmas present to myself, and enjoyed on the occasion of a big family barbeque when my Aunt and Uncle were over from Canada. It’s bordering on midstrength / sessionable at 4.0%, and is a very appealing bright ambery gold with nice fine bubbles that make for an enduring smooth head. It’s only very subtly hopped on the nose and has a wonderfully fresh malt body to it. Loveliness, really.
Afterthoughts, November 2010: No proper Diary entry here, and even the photo was taken on a borrowed camera. Unaccountably, I hadn’t taken my bag with me out to the parents’ house. Habits are often very useful; it takes some doing to find a workaround when you don’t follow them, sometimes.
My payment for helping George and Robyn (mostly Robyn, actually, since George was wounded) move their furniture around in readiness for renovations.
It’s basically a ruthlessly traditional IPA. Originally, IPA was what happened when the English over-hopped and strengthened up their ales, so they’d survive the commute out to the colonials in India. This one is oak barrel aged, to simulate some of that, and so despite being bottle conditioned, it pours flat as a pancake. It’s a nice muted reddy brown, and has a good apricotty hoppiness at the start and a citrusy zing in the tail. George and I thought it was great fun, and nicely quaffable — especially considering it’s actually 6.5%. I can easily imagine it’d be hated by many, even by many who consider themselves IPA fans. But I’ve long thought that you get extra points for being ballsy enough to be hated by some people, if it means doing a very-particular thing well. (See also, e.g., South coast Islay whisky.)
Verbatim: Peak Brewery Monkey Point IPA. 27/1/09 500ml 6.5%. Payment for lugging stuff. Understatedly organic. Seems hugely traditional. Oak aged IPA, which they would be, of course, in transit. Nearly flat, despite bottle conditioning. Apricotty and indeed oakey, it’s mild with a little fresh citrusy back end. Quite quaffable.
(Also, on Australia Day yesterday: a Creatures Pale, a Cooper’s Sparkling longneck and Pale. And a VB.)
Afterthoughts, November 2010: Here’s me, falling into the Captivating But Wrong Old Story about IPA. It turns out that IPA wasn’t at all “designed” to be shipped out to the colonies; the story is much more accidental and circumstantial than that. As you’d be right to expect, Martyn Cornell has nicely dealt with the topic on his blogthing.
I must also warn that this brewery, while capable of producing some lovely beers, does have a shockingly-bad occasional problem with infected batches / bottles. And when this one goes bad, as it too-often does, it goes horrid; full of a fizzy, strawberry-yoghurt flavour. Ranker than rank. Although one memorable customer at work one night did come in asking if we had the “strawberry-flavoured Peak beer” — he’d evidently had an infected bottle, and enjoyed it. To each their own, I suppose.
By “blonde”, here, they mean “golden ale”. You can see I’ve developed an obsession. It’s a great bright gold with lively racing bubbles that make a fine head which lasts all the way down the glass and make for an notably (but enjoyably) fizzy feel. It’s perhaps not as aromatic as billed — the text on the bottle is full of zesty and bursty and exclamatory tone that makes me want to counsel them to just calm down and embrace the nature of the lovely mild ale instead. (As I mentioned with the previous beer, some people expect too much of golden ales — it’s just odd that, here, it seems to be the people marketing one that miss the point a touch. But I forgive them.)
It does have a definite zing, and is brilliantly refreshing. There’s a solid passionfruitiness to it, which is apparently a hallmark of the Riwaka hops used — and probably accounts for the label’s colour scheme, too.
Diary entry #76, Renaissance 'Paradox' Blonde
Verbatim: Renaissance ‘Paradox’ Blonde. 21/1/09 $7 at Kirks. 500ml 4%. Further adventures in golden ale. Nice bright gold with lively racing bubbles + fine head. Not as aromatic as billed, maybe — the pitch is over-enthused; embrace the mild ale, boys. Definite zing in the flavour. Very refreshing. Solid passionfruitiness; apparently a Riwaka hop hallmark. The bubbles stay around and dominate the feel a bit.
Afterthoughts, November 2010: “Blonde” is one of those abused / overused words in the beer world where you really have to ask someone exactly what they mean by it before you can talk to them if they strike up a conversation / ask a question. If you’re European, it’s Belgian-ish boozy light-ish ale; if you’re American, it’s wheat beer, usually more Belgian-ish than German-ish; if you’re Australian, it’s low-carb lager. It does get confusing.
This brewery’s self-proclaimed ‘flagship beer’, and a hugely-awarded one at that. Bottle-conditioning makes it a conspicuously-hazy warm gold, and it’s quite a lot fuller and maltier in the body than a lot of the Goldens I’ve been having lately. If it makes any sense, I almost want to say it’s more of a singly-capitalised golden Ale than what is (maybe mostly just to me) a doubly-capitalised Golden Ale. But for similar reasons, it’d make a great Gateway Golden for lagerheads, being all crisp and yum as it is.
Verbatim: Hopback ‘Summer Lightning’ Golden Ale. 20/1/09 $7 at Rumbles 500ml %5. A nice warm gold with slight haze — bottle conditioned. Quite a lot maltier than my other recent Goldens. Flagship beer of Hopback, and hugely awarded. More full bitterness not bad, just another expectations issue. (Lots of point-missing reviews.) Crisp +yum. Gateway Golden for lager-heads.
Diary entry #75, Hopback 'Summer Lightning'
Afterthoughts, November 2010: The reference to ‘point-missing reviews’ comes from that fact that a lot of self-identified beer geeks don’t ‘get’ golden ale; you’ll see people harping about how the flavour is so light and soft and non-full-on. Which is exactly the idea. Not every damn beer has to be a punch in the face, people. There’s a lot of merit to be had in easy-going yumness.
Also, perhaps I’m just being picky, but that is the worst beer photo I’ve taken in ages. I’m not even sure why I dislike it so much; the glass, the focus, the wonky angle. Maybe the perilously-boozy beer before it softened my standards / ability again. But I certainly made up for it the next day.
This was one of the original beers in the famous chilly bin that George gave me. I remember being hugely impressed, and so leapt at a recent chance for another.
It’s a gorgeously-coloured strong Italian(!) doppelbock. It’s a sweet, caramelly, stupidly drinkable thing for 7.2%, with a nice little hoppy zing on the back end. I’ve just discovered it’s actually brewed by Heineken (and was when I first had it), so I feel morally peculiar, but I’m still a big fan.
Oh, and yes. That is indeed a chippie sandwich in the background. I am a Master Mongrelistic Beer & Food Matcher
Unnumbered diary entry, Birra Moretti 'La Rossa'
Verbatim: Having another go at La Rossa. (20/1/09) It’s a strong Italian doppelbock. Sweet and caramelly, absurdly drinkable for 7.2%. Nice late hoppy zing to it, too. Even better than I remembered.
Afterthoughts, November 2010: My numbering system for what counted as a ‘proper’ Diary entry, and what was just an unnumbered note is pretty seriously idiosyncratic. Sufficiently so that I have no idea, now, what it was then. I was probably thinking that since this was a re-sampling of something already-noted, it didn’t need a full entry again. But in fairly short order, I’ll go on to break that ‘rule’ — if that was indeed the ‘rule’ I had in mind. It’s not that I’m fickle; I just have a terrible memory, sometimes.
A keg of this arrived at work, so I gave it another go, and was grateful I did. It will taste a little different off tap, of course — but my last try of it was also after a long day of dark beers; not the best sampling conditions. It’s fresher and less blunt than I remember, but still very much drier and punchier than the traditional after-work Tuatara Pilsner. That said, I still find it nicely smooth and refreshing.
Verbatim: Three Boys Pils. 17/1/09 $9 at work 425ml 5.5%. On tap, briefly. And I’m liking it a whole lot better. Fresher, less blunt Steinlagery nose to it. Very much drier than a Tuatara, but still smooth + refreshing.
Diary entry #74, Three Boys Pils
Afterthoughts, November 2010: And herein lies a good lesson about tasting beers; try not to do too many at once, and pay a lot of attention to what you’ve just been having before you had the thing you’re trying. These cross-pint effects are huge, with beer, I find.
Which makes for another reason why a proper Beer Nerd will take ages to answer the usual “What’s your favourite beer?” question, if they answer it at all, rather than simply objecting to its terms. Favourite for what? For when? When I’m drinking what else? When I’m eating what? When the weather is how? If I’m planning on having how many? Be very suspicious of anyone with a predictable, perennial pint; they’re probably not a Proper Nerd.
Although winner of its class at the relatively-recent Beer Festival here in town, I hadn’t gotten around to trying one. And damn, was I missing out. It’s genuinely fantastic. Originally (the story goes) brewed to go with the food from the curry house near the brewery (hence the name), it’ll give people who dismiss lagers as uninteresting something to think about. It’s got light fruity flavours swimming around in it — a limey citrusiness, passionfruit, and even a suitable drift of mango — but they’re only there through clever choices of malts and hops; no cheating additions of fruit juice or whatnot. It’s nicely dry and crisp, and would indeed go gangbusters with a curry.
Diary entry #73, Invercargill 'Biman'
Verbatim: Invercargill ‘Biman’. 17/1/09 $8 at work. 330ml 5.2%. Golden lager, made to match the curry at the place near the brewery. Fruity, but only through Cleverness. No cheating. Citrusy, and with suitable mangoness in there. Quite dry, and crisp. Would indeed be magic w/ curry.
Afterthoughts, November 2010: To quote the brewery’s website: “In 2009, in an attempt to clarify pronunciation, the beer was rebranded, B.man.” To my mind, that’s sad. Not because there’s one too-many commas — I’m definitely not in a position to judge about comma overuse — but because of the running-away in the face of the fairly predictable shall-we-say ‘sexuality-based’ mockery the actual spelling attracted. ‘Biman’ is the name of the man who ran the curry-house which inspired the beer. To hell with the cavemen and their lame humour; stick with the actual inspiration.
A wonderful little amber ale with a very nice silky and enduring froth on top — and so perfectly amber that it’d make for a good colour chart entry, or something to point to if someone doesn’t know what the word means. It’s only very subtly hopped, leaving loads of room for sweet, fruity malty characters (some from wheat) to knock around. The balancing bitterness has an assertive first grab with a nice smooth follow-through.
The apparently-slightly-bonkers Scotsmen who make it assert that “there is no proper actual physics in this bottle”, but that’s — obviously — just bad metaphysics. I can forgive them that, though. The chronically-bored are hereby directed to the entry on ‘Supervenience’ in the Wikipedia, and then in the Stanford Online Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
Diary entry #72, BrewDog 'The Physics'
Verbatim: Brew Dog ‘The Physics’. 13/1/09 $7 330ml 5% at home. Bloody marvellous amber ale. Lovely smooth head, perfectly amber in colour. Only subtley hopped, letting malty fruitiness drive. Curranty, with an assertive first grab, then a nice smooth follow-through.
Afterthoughts, November 2010: Oh yeah, Beer Nerd, regular-type Computer / Gadget Nerd, Comic Book Nerd — and also Philosophy Nerd. With a degree and everything. Seriously, though, supervenience is fascinating. Lovely to have that philosophy-headache moment next time you do something seemingly-mundane but physics-nightmarish as knocking on a door.
We’d been lucky enough to have this and the Pale (which is further back in the Diaries) on tap at work once, so I already knew I was a fan of this, and it seemed like the perfect consolatory beer after a bit of a Day. It’s lovely, really. (They also do a ‘Hef’ wheat beer, which is decent, and good for evangelism; a Gateway wheat, really — I prefer mine a bit more full-on.) It’s got a blunter, more bitter hoppy nose to it than the ubiquitous Tuatara Pilsner, but actually opens into a lighter, fruitier flavour. Lusciously smooth, where other pilses tend crisp.
Diary entry #71, Croucher Pilsner
Verbatim: Croucher Pilsner. 13/1/09 $3 330ml 5% at home. Another one of those days. Compensatory beer. Had it on tap at work before, and I’m a big fan. As opp. a Tuatara, it’s got a blunter, bitterer hoppy nose, but a lighter, fruitier flavour. Lusciously smooth.
Afterthoughts, November 2010: I lived at this place on Willis Street just briefly — between my Terrace apartment and my house on Mount Victoria — and while it was nice in its own way, it was very difficult to take good beer photography in. Just something weird about the lighting. Though that strange Freemasonry building in the background does come out looking unfairly good.
I’m increasingly certain that my nomination for Under-rated Beer Style is golden ale. I’ve got a few more sitting on my bookcase ready to try soon, but I’d also never gotten around to trying this one that we’ve had at work for ages. And it’s pretty bloody lovely, really. Compared against the Three Boys Golden Ale, it’s conspicuously more honeyish, with a fizzier, ‘larger’ liveliness to it. They’ve added some wheat malt to the mix, here, so doubtless that’s where the extra complexity and more numerous fruity notes come from.
Diary entry #70, Invercargill 'Wasp'
Verbatim: Invercargill Wasp. 10/1/09 $8 @ work 4.2%. Another Golden Ale; my vote for underrated style. More honeyish, with a fizzyer feel. Like ‘larger’ liveliness. Some wheat malt, so more complex, slightly hazy.
Afterthoughts, November 2010: Invercargill, a generally damn-good and under-rated brewery, have never quite been sure what to do with this beer. Originally, I believe it was a crystal (filtered) wheat, then (as here) it was a golden ale, and as at the time I’m writing, it’s now a pilsner. Always with the honeyishness, but with the ‘base’ constantly and inexplicably changing. By all accounts, my timing was right; this was it at its best.
