Wednesday beer — Bitburger X Sierra Nevada Triple Hop’d Lager, 5.8%

Who would have thought it, boring old Bitburger whose beer is easy to drink but can cause a sigh of desperation if it is the only beer on the tap — who would have thought that the brewery would have combined with Sierra Nevada towards the end of 2019 (for the second time), ordered in locally grown Cascade, their unique hop blend Bitburger Siegelhopfen (also locally grown), alongside Chinook and Centennial to come up with this elegant lager, dressed up and pomaded as if ready for a night on the town, but cool enough to have a copy of Kafka in the side pocket. I suppose I’m being unfair to Bitburger by calling them boring, as its signature beer is crisp and refreshing, slightly bitter in the finish but — I suppose here’s the damning word — rather inoffensive, even if it’s one of the best selling draft beers in the German market. But what about this beer, I hear from an echo in the cave that is beer writing these days? Ok then, I detect guava and a suggestion of lavender on the nose, accompanied by a floral headiness, plus some spice in the background. Swig after swig reveals tropical fruit (that guava again) alongside a breadiness (or the aromas of baking you get when standing across the road from a bakery), plus herbal suggestions and a lingering bitter finish. This is a friendly and fulsome beer, which engages itself with the palate reminiscent of the joy of two old friends meeting for the first time in ages — I now have a plate and a knife and fork and on that plate are the words ‘boring old Bitburger’. Anyone got any condiments? 

Available from www.adnams.co.uk/beer/bitburger.htm

Lager of the week: Brio Number 1

Currently reading Gavin Francis’ True North, a fascinating account of his travels through the Shetlands, Faroe Islands, Iceland and Greenland — so it’s entirely pertinent that this little beauty from Borg brewery in Iceland turns up on my desk. It’s a fairly pale creature — the sun is a stranger, maybe a result of spending time in the caverns of maturation; though the paleness is of the golden ilk and so perhaps we’re thinking of fields of barley ripening in the sun. Whatever, it looks pretty beautiful with bubbles lazily tracing their way up the glass to meet their destiny in the Kate Moss thinness of the collar of foam. Bavarian-style Pilsener is apparently the aim (with Mittelfruh adding nobility, though the website talks of Pilsen), and according to the can I have (yes it’s a craft can or whatever you want to call it) the beer was developed in close collaboration with several pubs in Iceland.

There’s a gorgeous freshness about the nose, a sensation of freshly kilned lager malt, a bath salts freshness, a brewery source freshness that amazes me given its long travails from the far north (to be drunk in tandem with a hot spring perhaps?). The palate has a great lemony snickett of hop notedness that I adore in noble hops (when I wrote said entry for the OCB I was amazed to discover that the whole concept only went back to the 1970s), along with a quenching semi-bitter, bitter lemon bite that Pilseners seem to emerge into the world with. The finish has a dry and Wildean crispness about it, with lemony hints rushing backwards and forwards. It’s a rather delicious Pilsener and I for one are now thinking of how I can get to Reykjavik to taste it in situ (perhaps in a hot spring). 

Glass of new wave Brit craft lager please

The sun is out (well it will be soon out here in cloudy Exmoor) and I fancy a Helles, or do I have a Pilsner? Or a cool Dunkel? Or even an Imperial (or imperious…) Pilsner — definition of which could be: Special Brew that you can show your girlfriend without her thinking that lounging in wet trousers on a park bench is your ultimate aim in life. My guide to 10 Brit craft lagers on the ever-excellent Sabotage Times website can be found here. 

Lager of the week — Charlie, Fred & Ken’s 30th anniversary Imperial Helles Bock

Those who dislike the American penchant for ramping up beers to imperial strength can look away now. In the post courtesy of Vertical Drinks comes this Imperial Helles Bock, which has been produced by Sierra Nevada in conjunction with Fred Eckhardt and Charlie Papazian. It’s a sort of tribute to their work in advocating and writing about beer in the past three decades (there are a couple of other beers produced including a barley wine in which US craft brewing pioneer Jack McAuliffe has had a hand). It’s presented in a big 750ml bottle and is therefore ideal for sharing with your invisible friend who doesn’t like beer, so there’s more for you. Let’s take a drop. It’s the colour of Golden Syrup and has a rich, fat, bitter and alcoholic nose, all perfectly in balance as if they were figures doing their Tai-Chi in a Saturday afternoon park; I’m also put in mind of lychees if steeped in alcohol, while the petrol like nose reminds me of a Riesling. And just when I think I have got the nose to a tee along comes the scent of honeyed dates. These notes return on the palate, making me initially think of a Sauternes-like beer, a dessert beer — yet that’s too easy. It has a lazy Sunday afternoon, sitting in a hammock ease about it one moment and then a complex dissertation on the human condition with Joyce in mind next. My mind keeps working on it —a golden bock with a fistful of hops here, big blast of grapefruit there, oh and there’s a real gorgeous pungent hop character as well. It’s a luxury Helles, but it’s also pungent and dirty, robust and rollicking in its ride across the tongue; clean it is not. I like the idea of imperial Pilsners/Helles in the same way that I liked the way Joy Division ramped up the Doors. Why not fuss about with a beer, what works works, what doesn’t doesn’t (Doug Odell told me in an email the other day about the Wild Pils he tried to make — it didn’t work). So is it a style? Of course not, it’s a variation on a theme, a riff on a note, a symphonic dance and if you want to be basic, a pretty fine beer. 

Lager of the week — Schloss Eggenberg Hopfen König

Austrian brewery Schloss Eggenberg is better known for Samischlaus, that Bad Santa of a beer that the brewery started producing after Hürlimann gave up the ghost on it. It’s a lovely fiery drop, which at 14% is not something on health and safety grounds I would leave out on Christmas Eve (after all you don’t want to be responsible for Santacide as Tim Allen was in The Santa Clause do you?). I picked up a bottle of the brewery’s Hopfen König recently, and this is much more manageable at 5.1%. Pale gold in colour, it’s got a mineral iron sweetness on the nose (rather a delectable combo) with some stern bitter-lemon (minus the sweetness) in the background. Soft and bitter and dry in stages, I found it an attractively bitter Pils, very German in its tightness of flavour as opposed to what I often think is the expansive character of a Světlý Ležák. It’s rather delicious as an aperitif or handsome with a piece of grilled haddock that hasn’t been lying around on the supermarket counter for too long (the haddock in its pre-grilled state of course). And all this reminds me that I should get in some Samischlaus for Christmas (now that James is 12 there’s none of that note by the fireplace nonsense anymore).

Lager of the week — Mongozo Premium Pilsener

Gluten-free beers. Good cause, filthy stuff in my experience, and you have to feel sorry for someone who likes a beer but can’t stomach the barley. Several years back I was sent a gluten-free beer. It was Hell in the Pacific in the mouth — Lee Marvin and Toshirô Mifune battling it out on a small Pacific island translated into varnish and Cherry Blossom boot polish rattling each others’ cages on my tongue; I remember thinking: well at least it’s wet. Result: have stayed clear of them until now.

In the middle of researching a ‘whither Pilsner’ piece for All About Beer, I spot that Beer Merchants have got a g/f Pilsner from Huyghe, under the Mongozo brand (was the ‘banana lambic’ I sampled in an Antwerp beer festival in 1996 one of theirs I wonder?). It’s Fair Trade and organic as well, but I’m not chucking my hat onto that particular ethical table. A quick email to BM’s Phil Lowry and he sends me a couple (along with some other Pilsners, thanks Phil — the Rothaus Tannen Zäpfle is monstrously glorious, a cavalry charge of noble hops) and with a sinking heart I pour myself a glass…

Believe it or not it’s great to be wrong, especially when it comes to beer. This Premium Pilsener is easily the best g/f beer I have tasted. For a start it tastes like a good version of a Pilsner, even with rice in the mix (I’m a firm believer of rice in risotto rather than beer but that’s for another debate and there are respected brewers of my acquaintance who will actually argue that rice is not the devil) — it’s pale gold in colour with a nose that’s suggestive of bitter lemon, though lacking the sour-sweet poke in the eye of a lemon. There’s a mineral-like firmness on the palate (rather than that flabby syrup-sweetness you get with many commodity lagers), a pleasant sweetness in the mouthfeel and the slightest of bitter finishes that gets me going back for more. Gluten-free beers have obviously come on since I last carpet-bombed my palate in a good cause. 

Lager of the week — St Austell’s Korev

Here’s a delightful bottle of St Austell’s lager, Korev, apparently Cornish for beer (contrast with Breton Coreff and Welsh Cwrw). Pale yellow in the glass, the colour of a wispy, watery sunshine; here’s why according to brewery head brewer Roger Ryman: ‘We blend a little flaked maize with the malt to lighten the colour further, plus a small amount of CaraGold for sweetness and body. So it’s not a Reinheitsgebot grist bill, but we in the UK do not operate under the straitjacket of German brewers.’ Now the aroma: lemony boiled sweets, sugar-free if there’s such a thing, so you don’t get a massive sugary hit. It’s a light and gossamer like nose. The lemony delicacy continues on the palate, a German-style Pils character reference — maybe something like Warsteiner — it’s crisp and light in the mouth, tickles with a gentle carbonation (rather than the rasping bite I get from commodity lagers), and then proceeds to its demise with a lingering bitter finish. For me it’s got a good refreshment value, and it’s a pleasure to drink. I now hope Ryman does a dunkel or has a bash at a bock.

 This is the first lager from St Austell (though Ryman has produced one for the brewery’s exemplary beer festival, which I thoroughly recommend all and sundry to attend), and yet another addition to the continuing renaissance of British craft lager beer (and please don’t write in to tell me that St Austell aren’t craft, I’m far too busy trying to count the angels on a pinhead). BTW, here’s a link to my piece on said renaissance in All About Beer, if you’re interested in having a gander.

And if you want to know a bit more about the technical specs here’s Ryman again: ‘Fermentation is with a genuine Bavarian bottom fermenting lager strain. The beer will initially be brewed in our squares, but we are installing some cylindroconical vessels for production of bottled beers, so when these are available the fermentation will be moved to these. Collection is at genuine low fermentation temperature 8˚C, with the top heat of the fermentation regulated to 12˚C. Primary fermentation will last two weeks, as opposed to one week for our ales. We will then check that the diacetyl level is in spec before chilling and transferring to lager tank at -1˚C. We will hold in the lager tank for as long as is practical, but we only have four tanks, through which all the beer for our bottling line must pass. We will therefore have to move the beer after about three weeks as there will be other beer waiting behind it that we need to get into the tanks. On balance, given more tank storage capacity, I would perhaps opt for a longer lagering time, but I think this is more from a 'feel good' perspective rather than any real technical reason.’

So there you have it, Cornish lager, available only in bottle at the moment, a great antidote to my memories of the tasteless stuff that was Newquay Steam Lager, which I remember being available back in the late 1980s in a Crouch End gaff called Dick’s Bar (it’s now apparently called Bar Rocca and one review on Beer in the evening is rather funny: ‘If Timmy Mallet married Jade Goody, they would have the reception here.’).

Lager of the week — Your Mother

Now this is a lager and a half. Tasted at the Vermont Brewers Festival last Friday in Burlington, held on open ground right next to Lake Champlain, a stunning location that beat a municipal hall in England or Belgium any day.  It was brewed by Alchemist Pub and Brewery (sadly closed when I visited next day), an imperial Pilsner I would say given that its IBU was 65 and it had been lagered for 14 weeks (longer even than Budvar’s 90 days). I loved it. Despite the IBU extremity it was soft floral and piney in its hop character and certainly not palate rasping. There was a lemon/grapefruit nose with a light peachy/apricot character clanging away in the mouth alongside a sensous centre of malt before a magnificent bitter finish. It’s a lager, it’s hoppy and it’s wonderful and the fact I went back for it twice says something. As the Three Degrees once sang, When will I See You Again. Great fest as well — all sorts of folk there, with the only drag being the queues for a beer as the evening progressed. 

Lager of the week: the Helles are alive…

‘Enjoy the sound of brewing’ and ‘climb every lauter tun’: class (or not) repartee from folk when I told them that I was going to visit the Von Trapp brewery high up in the hills of central Vermont. Saturday afternoon saw me climb the mountain road, shirt wringing wet in the heatwave, but salivating as I considered a glass of Helles, about which I had been told so many good things. The folk who let me into this secret weren’t wrong either — Von Trapp Helles is a gorgeous pale golden drop of sun in the glass with a delicate floral nose, a voluptuous body and a crisp dry finish. Brewmaster Allen Van Anda has created a wondrous Helles that — if I closed my eyes — transported me to an elegant beer garden somewhere in Bavaria (or should that be Vienna?). It was magnificent. The Vienna (crisp, hints of toffee) was a dream with some Vermont blue cheese and the Dunkel (a work in progress according to Van Anda) had luscious chocolate and milky coffee notes. As I mountain biked (courtesy of Sam Von Trapp who had tucked into the beer with equal gusto) back to the hotel in Stowe (where I was staying at Ye Olde English Inn with its marvellous selection of taps), the Helles were certain alive with the sound of music. 

Lager of the week — Jever Pilsener

I loved the idea of the Hanseatic League when I learnt about them in history, all fur coats, big boats and barrels of herrings (I got a similar frisson upon finally conquering Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain  in 1989 after several years of aborted attempts, it’s one of the greatest European novels, I recommend it with gusto). I would have loved the League even more if I had known of the keen interest they took in beer.

When I organised the British Guild of Beer Writers’ Lager seminar in 2008 I got Meantime’s Alastair Hook on board who then proceeded to take the whole affair by the scruff of the neck and give it a sense of authority. We met in the brewery’s pub in Greenwich over a couple of glasses of Meantime Union (a svelte and sexy black polo-necked French existentialist babe of a beer) and I felt the old feelings return as he emphasised the role of the Hanseatic League in the origins of lagered beer (or beer in general).

Which leads me to Jever Pilsener, one of my favourite lagered beers, a beer that has — rightly or wrongly — been classified as a North German Pilsner. I love it. I love that gentle nose that reminds me of white bread that has been toasted just enough for a bit of browning to show; I love the fact that the gentle first note of the nose is also joined and conjoined with an iron-like note of minerally freshness, a great contrast, a yin and yang; I love that crisp, cracker-like, appetising palate, the bite of the carbonation that would grab a herring by the hand and lead it a merry dance about the palate; I love the dry and biting finish that makes me want to lift another glass to the mouth. It’s a rollicking ride of a lagered beer — I need more herrings. 

Lager of the week — Sam Smith’s Pure Brewed Lager

I once had a lovely stemmed tulip shaped glass, branded with the name of this brewery and its beer, an elegant and temperate half pint size, and picked up for a song in Dulverton’s Thirft Shop (if you fancy paying very much under the odds for beer glasses, especially those with a pedigree, then these establishments can often reveal some great treasures). But then I dropped it when I’d had — perhaps — too many Rocheforts (or was it the three pints of Salvator conjoined with after the pub?). Anyway, Sam Smith’s Pure Brewed Lager is not complaining about the fact it isn’t in its own glass. 

  The brewery used to produce Ayinger’s lagers under license, but they stopped doing it, but who’s to know what influence this spot of contract brewing had on Pure Brewed. 

   So here we go: pale yellow, Saxon blond hair the colour in the glass, flaxen even; nose a pleasing mixture of restrained lemon curd on gently toasted white bread, very breakfast-like — spend too many breakfasts supping on these and my only link with journalism will be selling the Big Issue. Palate is watery bitter lemon (no bad thing), a full, pleasing voluptuous mouthfeel and a dry and bittersweet finish. Halfway between a Bavarian Helles and a Světlý Ležák — some bigots (a phrase I think we’re all familiar with at the moment) might not believe that this gorgeous blonde of a beer can emerge from the gritty bowels of this most traditional of northern beermakers, but it does and it’s a beer well worth courting.

Talking of Sam Smith’s, I’m reminded of the Inspector Morse episode where the bereaved father of the arty murdered man looks around the deserted studio, picks up an empty bottle of Old Brewery Pale Ale and intones, ‘he was always a good friend of the Smith family’. Classic, makes me want to stand up and cheer. How sad is that.  

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.

Lager of the week — Löwenbräu’s Triumphator

Craft brewers aren’t the only ones who make decent beer — I’m told that this is a controversial statement. With that in mind, this week’s lager is Löwenbräu’s Triumphator, a doppelbock from a brewery owned by Am-Bev, or whatever they call themselves these days. To some people in the beer communication business they are the very devil, while I have nothing to do with them so out of sight out of mind: though I do recall back in 2005 the furore that ensued when the British Guild of Beer Writers got some sponsorship for them for their awards (as I was sitting on the committee as I still do this was more of an internal thing that something out in the open). The award was named after Artois Bock, a beer that they received some good reviews for from some very respected people but the thing about that beer was that even though they were obviously trying to get some respect when you saw it at a quid a pop in Tesco’s you realised it was just the same as any other loss leader. 

However, this post is about the beer in the glass, which in this case is the colour of a well-burnished conker. The nose is heady, fruity and boozy, there’s also some toffee, plus a hint of stollen cake and dried straw; the mouthfeel is chewy, boozy, vinous, sultanas, but also soft and nourishing. The finish is sweetish, almost like a sweet sherry with more of that grainy like strawness. It’s thinner and less elegant than some of the best of the style such as Ayinger, Andechser or Weltenburg, though it doesn’t have the alcoholic burn of strong Euro beers either. It’s not craft, it’s not macro, but it’s very drinkable; what are we to do with it?

Lager of the week — Freedom Four

Here we are, another lager of the week, one that several people have already blogged about, but what the hell (es). I think Freedom have it under trial at the moment but I reckon it’s good enough to be out there soon. In the glass it’s exceedingly pale, like it’s seen a ghost. First thoughts on taking a sniff is that it’s a Helles, has that grainy cereal Weetabix character to it, a canvas for lemony notes to add some colour. Resiny, pungent hop notes appear on the nose as well; they’re  not in your face but fresh and sensual. It’s crisp and fresh on the palate with lemon citrus, breakfast cereal notes; zesty and refreshing; grainy, dusty finish reminiscent of a dry barn in the summer when it hasn’t rained for a while. Gentle carbonation, absolutely delicious. Oh and if you haven’t guessed, it’s 4%. As lager of the week does not always have to have the judgement call, the next one will be a fully considered tasting of the tosh my mate Herby drinks, Carlsberg, the one with what feels like a can of Jolly Green Giant on the nose and a finish as quick as the guillotine blade on some sap’s head during the rule of the Committee of Public Safety in 1793 (which makes me wonder — was there any beer in the French Revolution? I know Napoleon’s troops are supposed to have referred to Berliner Weisse as the champagne of the North, but what was the tipple of choice in and around Calais, was beer unpatriotic?). Now if you must excuse me I must get back to Christopher Andrew’s The Defence of the Realm, which incidentally has a quote from Protzy on page 660 (and he’s not talking about beer).

Lager of the week — Kloster Scheyern Gold Hell

Not come across this before, but thought I would give it a whirl. It’s dark gold, topped with a meriangue white foam; there’s an alcoholic bitter lemon on the nose, lingering in the background a gentle aroma that makes me think the toasting machine on 1 for a bit of brioche, summoning up thoughts of breakfast. If this be toast then a doppelbock will be coffee. The bitter lemon character on the palate is more to the fore than on the nose, it’s easy to drink despite the strength (5.4%), deceptive, a deceiver; grainy, dusty, straw-like finish, dry and slightly boozy. No world-beater, but not a wife-beater either. I wonder what this would be like fresh from the tap? As I said I’ve not come across this lot before; if they are Aldi or Lidl staples then so what? It’s perfectly pleasant but it doesn’t have the wow that I find in beers that come from LöwenBräu Buttenheim for instance. 

Lager of the week — Cotswold Dark Lager

Went to the Cotswold Brewing Company today, a great set-up, the Premium straight from the tank is as good a pale lager beer as I have had anywhere in a similar situation on the continent. Afterwards, shipping on board a coffee in a pub in Burford, I was pleased to see two of Richard Keene’s lagers on keg, setting up a lager craft brewery ain’t easy (talking of keg am preparing a post on it, time nettles were grasped, past prejudices put aside, that sort of thing). Anyway, here’s what’s rocking my boat tonight: dark gleaming amber; the nose is a soft and soothing confection of milk chocolate, buttery toffee (almost close to Chardonnay’s soft buttery nose but with a bit more spine), toasted rye bread and some blackcurrant; milk chocolate, vanilla, milky mocha coffee with a sprinkle of cocoa on top, more of that blackcurrant-like fruitiness, a whisper in the shadows; the finish is dry, suggestively bitter, lasting and lingering; utterly butterly delicious. Drink now to toast the imminent end of winter (we hope). 

Lager of the week — Leeds Brewery’s Leodis

This is a dark lager I discovered at the Leeds Brewery Tap last week. This is very much a space based on the American model, light and airy, modern; upstairs the brew-kit stands behind glass, a theatre of beer. In the glass Leodis is as dark as treacle with crimson highlights and topped with a crown of bone-white foam. The nose has a resiny hop character with wisps of smoke, while there are smoky, bitter and dry notes on the palate with some toffee/treacle whispers joining in with the fun. It’s appetising and refreshing. Here’s a conundrum: is it a Dunkel or a Bohemian dark or is it very much its own man, perhaps a British craft dark lager.  A neat little discovery while the modernity of the Tap (along with the interior of the excellent Northbar, which I also visited) demonstrates even more and more that beer is being taken seriously — and in Leodis’ case the same is true for lager. Neat neat neat.  

Lager of the week — Freedom Organic Dark Lager

Not so sure about the presentation, clear glass bottle, 330ml size, beer has an almost cherry red glow to it, pours with a good head, almost off white, beneath which toffee, near-vanilla and even the faintest memory of cherry brandy aromas arise; warming and soothing though not the sort of warming that suggests a big bonfire of the vanities (or bonfire toffee for that matter), more like a hug from someone you love. Soft and sweet on the palate with a bitter and dry finish; some sweetness retained in the finish. There’s also an earthiness that I like, presumably from the hop, which is — well I don’t know and does it matter? I’m getting a Jacob’s Cracker-like crispness and dryness on the palate, which would suggest pairing it with cheese, so I try it with a creamy, salty, sweaty Devon blue, but all it did was vanish totally in its embrace, though a fragrant note I hadn’t noticed before emerged; but it wasn’t hideous, it just didn’t enhance either, so drink alone (or drink with friends). It’s not in a Bohemian dark tradition, neither a Vienna amber one, rather it’s a British craft lager tradition of ‘let’s see what happens when we add crystal and caramalt’ to our pilsner. Good work lads.

Lager of the week — St Mungo

What on earth is going on? This is a seriously good British (or should I say Scottish?) craft lagered beer. West is inspired by the enviable beer culture of Franconia, but their best seller St Mungo reminds me of a Bohemian Pils — whatever side of the border it falls on it’s a pretty stupendous lager, emanating from the home of Tennant’s, the grandfather and grandmother of cooking lagers. The nose is resiny, I’m thinking good Pilsner Urquell, a bodacious and sensual body with a dry bitter finish, a very dry finish that suggests you might need another (and I bloody will have another). I would contend it’s closer to a Bohemian Pilsner than a Helles, but I would also say this is a very modern lager, and perhaps indicative of the attitude that Franconia has to beer as opposed to the Reinheitsgebot-happy drones of a lot of the German brewing industry (though West do adhere to the Law). It’s fantastic and it’s probably one of the best British craft lagers I have had for ages (I also worship at the feet of Meantime’s Vienna, Pils and Festbier, while Taddington, Cotswold and Freedom, as well as a growing clutch of others, have my vote — and just in case you are interested, this is all part of ongoing research for a feature). West: where have you been all my life?

Lager of the week — Nils Oscar God Lager

This is a Swedish beer which has long been a favourite of mine: dark orange-gold in colour, while the nose is soft and sweetish, reminiscent of gently toasted white bread; there’s also a sort of dry biscuit/cracker character on the nose as well, with a restrained citrus orange in the background. A breakfast beer perhaps? Initial impressions in the mouth are of its intense bitterness and a lasting dry finish reminiscent of the breakfast cereal Grape Nuts; or imagine a hay barn in the summer when it hasn’t rained for a while and you can almost taste the dryness in the air. The beer delivers a vigorous piney and resiny palate-scrubbing effect to the palate, there’s also a light bittersweet side; it’s a sexy Marilyn Monroe of a lagered beer, a beer that sways onto the palate expressing big bold flavour colours as well as soft and seductive notes. In other words I like it — should you? I do.