Top Beer

I was going to write a WW2 period piece for this one. I got as far as ‘Belgium, 1944’. It was going to be the Belgian monks disabling the Germans with their easy drinking, lethal strength beer. Writing war stuff is impossible, because you don’t want to get things wrong and dishonour the dead, or indeed the living. So, unlike those great warriors, I gave up and went for the easy way out. Duvel is a pale golden beer from Belgium. It was first brewed to commemorate the end of the first World War, and was originally named Victory Ale. It was renamed when a drinker remarked that it was ‘a real devil’ due to it’s strong alcohol content (more of which later) and the name ‘Duvel’ (literally Devil in Brabantian) stuck. Duvel is incredible. It’s the perfect example of what a Belgian beer should be, strong, flavoursome, complex but above all easy to drink. Pouring is difficult; Duvel has it’s own ‘special’ glass (see picture above) when served in pubs and bars, so tipping it into your ‘Best Baldy Ever’ pint pot might leave you with some serious froth. This can be reduced by pouring slowly into a glass tilted at 45 degrees. The ‘special’ glass has a rounded bulb shape and allows the beer to flow down the shape and settle correctly in the base of the glass, giving just enough froth. Duvel tastes fruity, and slightly acidic; it’s obviously a carefully made beer with plenty going on, but never stoops to being heavy and difficult. It goes down like a strong lager, a Stella Artois or a Becks. Take your time with it, drink it like you would a fine wine, and it’s literally beautiful. Be warned though! Duvel is 8.5%, and as such should not be bandied about as a session beer unless you are the reincarnation of Oliver Reed or Keith Moon. You will feel this in your system after a couple of bottles.  Overall, an absolute star performer. One of the finest I’ve tasted and imagine ever will taste. 10/10

Another guest review, this time from Emma Inkles, or filiem, or Ms Lass to suggest some of her many titles. I suspect she is either a master criminal on the run from the law, or spends much of her time typing in user IDs and shouting at monitors. She’s been kind enough to review that favourite tipple of Scottish park-bench-dwellers, Tennent’s Super…

Before I start, don’t get me wrong. I like lager. I love it in fact. However I don’t make a habit of consuming Tennent’s Super on a regular basis, in fact today is my first time. Let’s just say my dear mother thought she was being a good host by getting “some lagers in” for me. As someone who is used to the much more tame 4% and 5% fizzy stuff, this was going to be interesting.

The can itself is ominous. Looking more like an ale than a lager, a creepily simple design and a massive “9.0% VOL - PLEASE DRINK RESPONSIBLY” warning near the base, Tennent’s Super is not for the faint hearted. As a woman, by drinking one 400ml can (4 units) I am going over my recommended daily alcohol intake (2-3 units).

And so on to the tasting. It’s certainly a strange one but nowhere as vile as I first imagined. The first unusual sensation for me is Super’s “weight”. It seems to bear down on the tongue much more than a regular lager. As it bears down the taste splits, the roof of the mouth receives a dull and not altogether great flavour. Think the aroma of the back alley behind a nightclub on a Sunday morning.

The flavour hitting the tongue though is very different. It’s sharp, acidic almost, then fades gradually. It hangs around the mouth for about 10 seconds in total, the sharpness topping off a heavier undertone. There would be no way you could get away with a “cheeky can” without anyone within a 100 metre radius knowing what you had been up to, however. It’s heavy, sticky, and clings to your breath with an alarming skill. Mouth fresheners are a must after this beverage.

I think perhaps I prejudged Tennent’s Super before trying it. Yes: it’s very strong and its main purpose is, I suppose, to get the consumer as pished as possible with the least can-lifting effort required to achieve this. But, it’s not completely undrinkable and it’s certainly not revolting. On a list of lagers I would buy, Super would be low down, but it would still make the list - just.

Quickly marking it before my eyes stop working and I forget my name:

2/5 - Not as bad as I thought it would be, but that doesn’t make it great

Thanks to Bill for this review, which should have been on here ages ago, but I’ve been busy, not lazy, busy.

Innis and Gunn Cask Aged beer can be found nestled unassumingly amongst the larger and more boldy monickered bottles that festoon the bottled ales section of most supermarkets and speciality off licenses. Coming in at the same price as it’s larger brethren, this beer packs a hefty punch; at 6.6% you might have less liquid sliding into your gullet however you’ll still be imbibing as much the same amount of good, healthy, lovely alcohol as you would be if you were to go for, say, a bottle of Spitfire or Badgers “insert cute subtag here”.

However, with Innis and Gun you are also getting something very special. The unique brewing process was discoverd by accident, surplus ale was stored in old whiskey casks (I don’t know why, maybe they ran out of Scottish people to dispose of it in) and, prior to be discarded, sampled. The unusual oaks and caramel finish was remarked upon as being something rather special and, lo, Innis and Gun was found.

In almost a mirror image of this hallowed event I discovered Innis and Gunn in the same way, I noticed it, bought it and drank it. Lo, my love for Innis and Gunn was established. I then passed it to my wife to sample. Lo, my wife’s refusal to allow any other alcoholic beverage other than this very beer (until she finally od’ed a few moneths later) was cemented. Seriously, it is that good. I would say this is the nicest tasting beer that exists in the world, and I have drunk them all, bar one or two. Certainly all the beers that come in bottles from every supermarket in Belfast. It is strong, sweet, you can taste the oak and has very obvious caramel overtones without the oft times cloying artificial sweetness that you can get in most honey beers.

It comes in 330ml (which is the same price as most of the 500ml on the shelves, but many places also stock a 660ml bottle for a roughly doubled price. This size is ideal for people who want to have large bottles of beer. You may scoff, however many people who like large bottles of beer like large bottles of beer as plea “I’ll only have the couple” suddenly is a lot more viable when faced with this behemoth of booze imbued splendour.

Best served well chilled, but not super chilled like lager. This is one for people who like beautiful flavours. Not for a staunch real ale/bitter purist. It’s the Bailey’s of real ale. Only better.

The best beer there is.

G’day. Bonzer. Barbie. Dag. Some words that should legally not be allowed in a review, just because the subject matter hails from down under. However, they are superb words to start this review, and increase your word count when the subject matter hails from down under but is very difficult to write about. Just how do you review something that everybody (possibly in the world, ever) has sampled? It’s like reviewing fresh air.

Foster’s, one of the few lagers to use a grammatical concept in it’s name, is probably the most widely sold lager in the UK at the moment. where a pub or bar would once be guaranteed to have Carling, they now have ‘the amber nectar’ in it’s place. So why so popular? Well, for a start, it’s such an easy beer to drink; no real flavour complexity (to the point that when cold it doesn’t really taste of much at all) and an invigorating fizz, rather than Carling’s relentless carbonation.

A taste reveals a dull, beery flavour with a hint of sulphur in the smell, and a slight vegetable aftertaste accompanied by a tickle of fizz on the tongue. It’s immensely drinkable, and seems to get tastier the more you drink, making it ideal for when you, er, chuck another prawn on the barbecue.

Overall - 4/5 Purists will disagree, but you will enjoy your session on the Foster’s, I guarantee it.

Three more guest reviews, from fellow OI contributor Dan, or r10t3r as he prefers to be known (I suspect he’s related to 1980’s boy-android D.A.R.Y.L). Thanks!

Paulaner Original Münchner Dunkel

I was inspired to write having read the previous review of Franziskaner Weißbier, a beer which is considered one of the better white/wheat variety producers in Germany. Paulaner is not much different at first glance, a traditional big brewer from Munich and is a major rival to the former. Therefore, in true Bavarian fashion, one is expected to enjoy a mid morning sausage (wurst) with a refreshing Paulaner wheat beer, at least in Munich. Which brings me to the natural progression of beer drinking throughout the day. When you are tired from your afternoons exertions, have completed our days tasks efficiently or are just plain sick and tired of invading neighbouring countries, one opts for a Dunkel beer.  

Dunkel, a word that couldn’t sound more German if it tried, means dark. Dark to us mere mortals just means Guinness. And Guinness, this is not. This is a smooth, slightly bitter beer which has a sweet aroma. It can be found on draft in most German towns and cities, and can be found frequently bottled, often in 0.5l bottles. Like many beers of this type you will struggle to consume this in any great quantity. And this is a good thing, a taste to be savoured, a 5% alcohol content, sunshine on your face and an afternoon to lose by the river, things can turn bad quickly.

I’m reliably informed this can be tracked down in the large UK supermarkets and decent European frequented bars (hotels) in England.

Overall 3/5 

Berliner Kindl

The beauty of living and working in a new place is that you spot the local themes. In Berlin, beer is big, fiercely protected, drinks are poured to discuss politics, sex and just the liquid in your hand. Of all the beers that puzzled me was Berliner Kindl. A fizzy, mid strength European lager available in every bar, pub, club, post office and street corner. It’s reputation is poor largely because of its competition. Germany produces fine beer that is internationally renowned. Berliner Kindl is not one of them. It holds its own locally against the mighty powers, the reliable Amstel, the consistent Warsteiner and the Heniekens of this world. But it has nothing to differentiate itself from the competition, therefore, Berliner Kindl can go no further, it punches above it’s weight in Berlin and other German cities have their own variant flying the flag.

Which is the strange thing. Because, if you compare like for like, Berliner Kindl is the Carling of Berlin. Only, German’s would not settle for the abysmal taste, flavour and fizz of Carling. Indeed, they certainly wouldn’t even wash their streets with it. And as a result you have a really good beer that has hit a glass ceiling. If you launched Kindl in the UK for the price they sell it in Berlin you would be checking the labels on the bottles, the change in your hand and politely asking if there has been a mistake.

This beer gives you a great smooth taste, is well balanced and retains a wholesome after-taste as well. If you want a surprise, a hidden pleasure stored amongst the dusty imports at your local off licence, cast a glance Berliner Kindl’s way.

Overall 3/5

Sternburg 

Sternburg is the in joke in Berlin. The locals will sometimes jibe with you that this is the tramp beer. It’s the beer you buy if payday hasn’t come, or if you need something to quench your thirst between underground stops. And yet, it’s perfectly palatable, pleasant and beats most draught lagers pumped out in the UK today. The reason for this is quite simple, Germany’s strict brewing laws and the fact that it has its routes as the beer of choice in the East and beyond. Further; a hard-working East German is not the kind of person you want to disappoint in the bar at the end of a hard days slog.

Coming in a distinctive red labelled bottle you can pick this bargain up for about a Euro a bottle (for 0.5l) virtually everywhere. Venture around and you can pick it up at up to half this price. Which is what makes me a little sad when I see it labelled (and priced accordingly) as a speciality beer on the rare occasion I spot this in the UK. Because this is not what this beer stands for, a straightforward, uncomplicated pint. You won’t be taken with the complex tastes, but you will get a decent refreshing beer. Which as any discerning consumer will confirm, is half the battle. So don’t expect to be blown away, there are no fireworks here, but you won’t be disappointed. Your 1 Euro is safe.

Keep a keen eye out for this brand should you spot it lurking in a shop or off licence, or on a foray into continental Europe. You will wonder why our nation cannot knock out a value beer that does what it says on the tin, that can be enjoyed by all and which doesn’t betray its roots to make a quick buck.

Overall 4/5 

In the beginning, there was beer. Man had made beer to please the Gods, and to give themselves something to drink on a night after they were sick of the free coffee at work. For a long time, man and beer lived as one.

But then…

One day, some monks in Belgium decided that what the Gods really wanted was to cross contaminate the pure, lovely, pleasurable beer with cherries. “Cherries were invented by God, beer was invented by us,” they chanted “what could possibly go wrong?”

And so…

Soon, the mongrel beer was ready. It was offered to the Gods for sampling. Would it please the Gods? Would these Belgian monks be made living saints through their superior brewing skills? Would the beer itself be sanctified as the most holy of all ales?

But wait…

The God took a sip of the mighty brew. With a great bellow of his Godly lungs, he spat the mixture with all of his might. “What is the meaning of this?” he cried (in Walloon). “Lord,” replied the monks, “this is our greatest achievement! Amixture of our holy beer and your holy fruit!”

“But no!” boomed the God (in Dutch), “This is a freak of nature; a travesty against tradition! It tastes merely of cherries, and there is almost no taste of the brew!”

“Of course it does our heavenly Lord, replied the monks, “cherries are cheap while beer is expensive!”

“Pah!” thundered the God (in Walloon), “What is the point? You might as well drink cherryade, had it have been invented yet! Anyway, how potent is this morello monstronsity?”

“My Lord, our scientist monks have valued it at a beer-goggle-tastic 3.4%!”

“Nonsense!” Shrieked the God (in French), all the while becoming more and more enraged, “I have pissed stronger!”

And in a mighty fury, the God took flight, and cursed the monks to forever be held within their own country, and then for good measure ensured that Belgium would forever be known as the dullest country on the planet, despite it’s main attractions being chips, beer and chocolate.

Yeah, very funny. Of course it’s a beer, not the actual cleric’s digit. Bishop’s is a ‘proper man’s beer’. By which I mean it’s a flattish, evil smelling deep brown beer, the kind of beer that’s drunk by men with cattle farms and tractors and beards.

It’s a lovely beery taste, very strong but not very alcholic tasting despite it’s 5.4% ABV, with hints of fruit and smoky working men’s clubs. Like a Christmas cake in booze form. Pouring gives virtually no foam at all, which was slightly disappointing. It looks so inviting in deep brown that it looks slightly incomplete without an ice-cream top.

On the downside, it’s maybe a little too heavy. Half a pint in and I’m already feeling the weight of it on my belly, and slightly dreading sinking the rest of it. It’s a slow burner this one, a 3 pints in a night job. Not a session beer at all, unless you have a lead lined stomach and a determination to kill yourself with liquid Christmas cake.

I can quite often be found pondering life’s more challenging questions on the ObscureInternet forums (Jaffa Cake; cake or biscuit?), where I mentioned that I had started reviewing booze, and could anybody contribute? Of course they could - It’s just getting drunk and writing drunken words, after all. So, in association with OI, here’s 3 reviews for your beer critique-ing pleasure.

First up is ‘Mexican’ lager Desperados, in a review submitted by the oddly named DaveC3323.

I tried a beer for the second time the other day called ” Desperados”. I know from that name alone your probably thinking about Tequila and sweaty Mexicans in sombreros. Well, you wouldn’t be far off. It’s a very sweet tasting lager, I say sweet, some may find it bitter due to the flavouring of Tequila that has been added. The beer itself starts off tasting really nice but then after a while it starts to get a bit sickly. You know when you get to the bottom of a Corona bottle and its just dregs and lime? Well thats what it tastes like after a while. 

I can only describe it as a poor alternative for beers Like Corona or San Miguel. Its not something you will find in your local boozer but im sure it’ll be on offer at your local Off license 365 days a year.

Next up are a pair of reviews from Ramblingpaul, who describes booze from both ends of the beer, er, spectrum.

ASDA’s ‘Biere de Belgique’

Biere De Belgique literally translates to “beer similar to Belgium”. This should of alerted me to the possibility of blandness.  However the bargain price temporarily blinded me.

The “Extra Strength” and “5%” tag had given me hope for a decent taste with a bit of a kick, I have to say I was disappointed, it may be 5% but it tasted like Federation ACE.

Those not familiar with Ace please pop into the kitchen, get a glass of water, add three drips of baby piss and you will have a fairly accurate  taste and strength. After drinking all 12 bottles I was embarrassingly sober, unable to bring myself to either sing on the Karaoke or eat an elephant leg sandwich.

Thankfully I had a half bottle of vodka in the freezer to drown my disappointment. Having said this I think there is a place in the market for this beer,  I’m thinking hot summer afternoon, BBQ, the ones where you want to maintain a level of fuzziness throughout the day and show off to your mates that you can binge drink “strong” lager,  this may be the beer for you.

It’s not for me though.  Poor taste and poor strength knocks any sort of benefit the cheap price tag offers. There is a reason tramps drink Special Brew, and this demonstrates the reason in a 250ml bottle.

As with all 250ml bottles of lager, to avoid unnecessary exercise its best open 2 at the same time.

Overall 2/5: Another example of you pay for what you get.

Badger ‘Golden Champion’

This light coloured beer from Asda’s range of “Real” ale has surprisingly pungent aroma and taste, it’s not a thirst quencher however it does grab your attention and demands to be noticed, like a red headed child, ignored by his parents in favour of their less ugly children, will suddenly and inexpertly set fire to the house, this beer slips down your throat and then tries to slit it.

But in a good way.

It’s got that “I’m proper beer me” quality, the sort of taste that would put kids off drinking for life but seasoned pissheads will wax lyrical about. 

OK, it tastes like shit mixed with dirt, but expertly brewed, traditional shitty dirt that gets you pissed, 4 bottles of this and I was hammered.

Overall 3/5: Propa beer

 Firstly, an education. Weißbier, or weissbier (as the character ß is a pain to type) is a Bavarian speciality beer which is made by replacing a large amount of the malted barley with wheat. Due to the different ways that wheat and barley react, this gives the wheat beer a different falvour to normal ales and a extremely foamy head. Weissbier means ‘white beer’, as originally the beer was a paler shade than the other beers being brewed at the time.

All of this makes it sound like a real real ale job, but as we’re sure to discover over the months and years that we drink beer, the Germans don’t just make beers to call them ‘old fartenacker’, they make them because they are superb to drink. 

Franziskaner Weissbier was on offer at ASDA, at a pound a bottle. I grabbed a couple of bottles, despite the labels being in incomprehensible German, apart from the word ‘imported’ on the neck. This was a step into the unknown.

Even getting it into the glass was a tough ask. The wheat reaction causes the head to froth at an alarming rate, and I emptied a quarter of the bottle and filled a pint glass. Using the little known ‘rub your nose to remove your head’ trick (more of which another day, maybe) I managed to carefully pour the rest of the bottle. By treating it like sulphuric acid.

It’s a delicious slurp. A heavy beer taste is highlighted by flavours of banana, leaving a pleasant fruity aftertaste. It’s not a session beer though, by any means. The same reaction that causes the foam makes it quite a bloating beer, and I was certainly full of gas after the second bottle. That same gas returned with a vengeance later in the night, when I managed to jolt myself awake by burping. I never, ever burp.  

Overall 4/5: An excellent beer, but don’t expect to sink 15 bottles on a summer’s afternoon. Unless you want to seriously fall out with your other half after burping repeatedly in their face.

You know that Sandra Bullock? You know those films she makes? The films aimed at the 30 something lady, where she adopts some kids or inspires some kids. Not the one where she drives a bus. Well, if you’ve watched those films then you’ll not be able to remember a single thing about them. 

Sandra Bullock ensures that she only stars in films that will appeal to everybody. There is no controversy at all in them. No swearing, no fighting, no revolutionary ideas, no digs at organised religion. Sandra won’t entertain anything near the knuckle. Truth is, she’s so far from the knuckle she might as well be a knee cap.

And hey, that’s fine, I suppose, if you’re looking to make money. Sandra has been knocking out these 120 minutes nothing-fests for years and I assume she is quite well off by now. You would assume then that making things bland and offense-less is a fast track to stardom and riches beyond your wildest imagination.

But, er, no. I’ve been drinking Tyskie. Never heard of it? Thought not, unless you’re a Pole, by which I don’t mean a long thin piece of metal or wood. I bought it from Sainsburys, so you might have seen it, but it just looks a bit uninspiring so you probably passed it by and bought something in a nice green bottle with a flashy song based logo. Inoffensive doesn’t mean automatic popularity, then.

Tyskie is the lager equivalent of Sandra Bullock’s films. It doesn’t really taste of anything, and leaves almost no aftertaste. You’ll need another mouthful soon, to remember what it’s all about. Completely forgettable in every way. It’s not a bad thing by any means, it doesn’t linger in the mouth after drinking like a proper man’s beer can. In fact, on a hot summer’s day it would be ideal. But it all just seems a bit empty, and pointless. It’s a nice flavour, maybe a bit metallic in places, but you’d hope it would transform with time in the mouth, and it certainly doesn’t. 

It’s quite strong too. At 5.6% I am typing this through a Tyskie and Champions League haze, and it’s most enjoyable. When summer does finally arrive, this should be a tipple to try when the barbecue is lit. Careful though, because forgettable flavour plus high alcohol content could lead to you being both literally and figuratively off your chops.

Overall - 3/5: Not bad by any means, but commits a sin by not being committed to  your memory.