Lager of the week — Carlsberg Cold
From Northampton with love. In a quiet corner of the Bridge, Saturday afternoon reflections, sunlight spearing in through the window, a spotlight on the carpet, I lift a glass of Carlsberg Cold. It’s the colour of the sort of cellophane that shopkeepers once hung in their windows to keep out flies (or Lucozade bottles used to be wrapped in). Can of sweetcorn opened 30 minutes ago on the nose, it’s cold and crisp in the mouth and has a hint of lemon-flavoured boiled sweets — then there’s a dryness developing. It’s slightly sharp, but there’s no real flavour. It’s refreshing enough in the way a glass of shandy does the honours after a particularly ferocious game of squash. It doesn’t float my boat, but it’s not as frightening and fiendish as who-have-you-converted-to-real-ale-today types would have us believe. It’s there, it’s here, it’s beer. I leave my glass half full and order a draught Budvar, I’m intrigued to note that the Carlsberg Cold develops a burnt rubber note on the nose as it cools. Landlady Rachel passes by and agrees with me. What’s this burnt rubber all about then?- If I’m going to write about lager then I cannot ignore this bestseller, well I can but at the moment I’m saving all my ignoring for the monstrous Bedlam that is Britain’s Got Talent.
From Northampton with love. In a quiet corner of the Bridge, Saturday afternoon reflections, sunlight spearing in through the window, a spotlight on the carpet, I lift a glass of Carlsberg Cold. It’s the colour of the sort of cellophane that shopkeepers once hung in their windows to keep out flies (or Lucozade bottles used to be wrapped in). Can of sweetcorn opened 30 minutes ago on the nose, it’s cold and crisp in the mouth and has a hint of lemon-flavoured boiled sweets — then there’s a dryness developing. It’s slightly sharp, but there’s no real flavour. It’s refreshing enough in the way a glass of shandy does the honours after a particularly ferocious game of squash. It doesn’t float my boat, but it’s not as frightening and fiendish as who-have-you-converted-to-real-ale-today types would have us believe. It’s there, it’s here, it’s beer. I leave my glass half full and order a draught Budvar, I’m intrigued to note that the Carlsberg Cold develops a burnt rubber note on the nose as it cools. Landlady Rachel passes by and agrees with me. What’s this burnt rubber all about then?
Burnt rubber is the taste I get from light struk beer. What colour was the bottle?
ReplyDeleteIt was draught, I was sitting in t’pub; lord knows what it was but it was peculiar and not pleasant.
ReplyDeleteI think rubber in wine is mercaptan, and Googling beer rubber mercaptan supports Ed's suggestion
ReplyDeleteI read this thinking I was reading Cooking Lager's blog, and saying to myself, "crikey, his writing is improving."
ReplyDeleteI'm remembering "burnt rubber", gotta learn from the best Barm, and Ade is the Daddy of Lager Louts.
ReplyDeleteZak — how does it get lightstruck in a keg, but hold on it was in my glass for say 20 mins and it was sunny outside, could it go lightstruck that quick or is it something to do with all the cider yeast in the air down here?
ReplyDeleteBarm — good to be compared with the best
Cooking — well I was certainly feeling my age yesterday ;-)
Hi Adrian, if the beer didn't have the burnt rubber to start with then it is most likley light struck. It develops very quickly in bright sun. Other flavours can hide it for a while but if there wasn't much to it to start with.........
ReplyDelete