Day 141, Beer 141 - Sharp's Brewery & Rick Stein's "Chalky's Bite"

Today's Beer

Name – Chalky's Bite

Brewer – Sharp's in collaboration with Rick Stein

Classification – Aged beer (with wild fennel)

Strength – 6.8% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Deep straw gold.

On the nose – Vivid high note citrus. Faint aniseed.

On the tongue – A uniquely flavoured 'Belgian' homage. Powerful and immediate, yet equally poised and elegant.

On the subject – Fans of the much loved brewery Sharp's (now under the protection of Molson Coors) and fans of the much loved chef Rick Stein (now under the protection of BBC 2) have been brought together by one of contemporary western society's most cherished concepts – the 'Celebrity Beer Collaboration'. Gentle cynicism aside, the end result is rather wonderful in this particular case, and that's probably because both parties got where they are today on good old fashioned merit. Stein's fondly remembered pooch has two beers dedicated to him, the other being the ginger infused Chalky's Bark. 

On the market – Your best chances will be in Cornwall, but word seems to be spreading fast. In the meantime, why not go online and buy from Chalky's former owner himself.

On the whole – 8.5/10

Full Review

Until embarrassingly recently, fennel was out there in the great food unkown as far as my palate was concerened.

I knew fennel quite well, and had eaten it in various dishes over the years, but it was really the point of it that I hadn't grasped.

However, thanks to my blindingly attractive girlfriend and a wholesale change of eating habits – fennel is now among my very favourite edible things.

But drinkable fennel? 

Was I quite ready for that?

Well, if my reaction to Chalky's Bite is anything to go by, then I am absolutely ready.

Described as being 'naturally flavoured with wild Cornish fennel', this bottle had me slightly spooked at first glance. But there was something about the names Sharp's and Rick Stein which made me wonder whether this beer could possibly be anything other than very special.

And having now consumed a glassful with the greatest of ease, I can reveal that 'very special' is exactly what it is.

These two giants of their respective trades have come together and delivered on the substantial promise which such a collaboration suggests. 

It's a splendid creation. A big, hearty beer with a delicate, genteel soul is how I might sum it up. A grizzly bear with Victorian sensibilities.

The label waffles on (as so many labels love to do) about the various why's and wherefore's behind the product's existence, and amongst all of this is a claim that they were bearing in mind the 'Belgian greats' when they began to concoct the recipe.

Well, it's hard to know precisely what a 'Belgian great' means (about as hard as precisely defining a contemporary British beer), but the fact is that you can really get a sense of that thought process in the final result. It doesn't scream 'I'm brewed in the style of a Belgian great' but it cleverly evokes the feel of such a statement, as though the drink itself is quite literally bearing Belgium in mind as it tumbles into your mouth.

It's very cleverly done.

And the cleverness doesn't stop there.

The flavours have been assembled in the most refined and 'pitch perfect' way, and the sequence in which they occur to you is mesmerising and really quite remarkable in terms of execution. It feels like a whole new batch of precise mathematical principles have been applied to this flavouring process, with one theme leading on to another in an almost endless loop of sublime taste.

It's a spicy, resinous affair, with a warming richness and a tremendous sweet versus sour dynamic which does plenty to keep that Belgian flag fluttering.

Spiced apples, grapefruit and gooseberry from the hops are held aloft in fine style by some richly nutty malts – and all of this is held together by that fresh, vibrant fennel. The delicate licorice, pine and aniseed elements which the fennel brings to the beer are ceaselessly entertaining. I was held in thrall by them to the very last.

To say that I approached this collaboration with high hopes is perhaps an understatement. But to have seen those expectations greatly surpassed has been a genuine thrill.

Chalky bit me very hard.

And I loved it.

Day 35, Beer 35 - Rodenbach's "Grand Cru"

Today's Beer

Name – Grand Cru

Brewer – Rodenbach

Classification – Unique... and that's about as kind as this review is going to get.

Strength – 6% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Darkest autumnal reds and copper. At the viewing stage - you'd think this was beer.

On the nose – Sweet vinegar. Burnt glacé cherries on PCP.

On the tongue – Can I skip this...please! Just read on...

On the subject – This beer is one of the great feats of all human endeavour...apparently. Why do I feel like the guy pointing at the naked Emperor?

On the market – I'm electing not to say. (I'm unwilling to actively help you to do this to yourselves.)

On the whole – 3.5/10  (A score of any sort is to honour the fact that it made an impact - by golly did it do that – and that's more than can be said for some mass market beverages.)

Full Review

This beer made me feel like a visitor from space.

In fact, after a single sip, I was no longer a resident of the Milky Way....I didn't know quite where I was, but I certainly wasn't in Kansas any more.

I was a cosmic pioneer in a distant galaxy, sampling the curious liquids of a semi-humanoid race who dwell on the gaseous planet of 'Sherb-hurt' – named in honour of their highly prized adult confectionery drink, which has many similar properties and a slightly similar name to a certain sweet treat back in my own world. Although, the version back in my own world was always known to bring pleasure, which this alien brew clearly was not.

Here on this strange new world, 'sherbet' really does 'hurt.'

Please forgive this unhelpful flight of fancy, but I'm having to speak figuratively to avoid any direct recollection of the experience I just endured.

I remember reading an item about this beer many moons ago, in which a fairly eminent beer expert told the reader not to be put off by their first experience of it, warning the uninitiated about the extremities of taste which lie in wait behind the glass.

Not many beers are introduced with such words of caution... and in my mind, that's a good thing.

And today, turning to the web for more information in something of a mild panic, I found various claims that the taste of this liquid is 'acquired.' Still in the unrelenting grip of the drink at this point, these claims merely brought to mind various other things which might somehow be 'acquired.'

Like rabies.

Foot and mouth.

And bad debts.

The point is, if I tried this beer a thousand times I would never like it, and what's more... along the way I would have become miserable with a wild intensity of the kind that even this drink couldn't hope to equal.

If I can briefly bring myself to recall – it essentially drinks like a fruit beer (cherry is the nearest I can get) which has been laced with peach vodka, poured into a half-full jar of Marmite and left on a jungle floor to evolve and mutate for several decades.

The reality, though, is that this is a 'combination' of a 'young beer' and another beer which has been left to 'mature for two years in oak casks'.

Left by who, I can't help but wonder? And was it left there on purpose?

Did the 'oak casks' in question have a previous role to play in the nuclear weapons industry?

They also add extra sugar at some stage (the 'ingredients' reveal this in small print) and this was probably what triggered my subsequent Sherbet-themed hallucinations – and there just has to be some other stuff in there which didn't make it onto the label.

I will refrain from guessing, if only for legal reasons.

Seriously, without any trace of irony, I take my hat off to those of you who – hand on heart – actively enjoy this drink experience.

Lord knows the evidence suggests there are many of you out there.

However, I also feel partly inclined to ask all of you a very simple question...

How often do you get to visit your home planet?

Day Eighteen, Beer Eighteen - Van Eecke's "Watou's Wit Bier"

Today's Beer

Name – Watou's Wit Bier

Brewer – N.V Brouwerij Van Eecke

Classification – Wheat beer.

Strength – 5% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Exemplary. A gorgeously misty, wheat beer glow.

On the nose – Marvel at that implied lemon slice!

On the tongue – Delightful consistency, with a lightness and a depth which rarely coincide.

On the subject – The heritage of this 'abbey' beer (one rung beneath 'Trappist' in the hierarchy of Belgian beers) can be traced back to 1629, but the sheer freshness of this beer will have you scratching your head at such statistics.

On the market – Selected outlets. Grabbed mine at Selfridges. (In store only.)

On the whole – 8.5/10

Full Review

After years of wilfully ignoring the signs, it has now become clear that I have a problem with wheat beers.

Or rather, wheat beer's have a problem with me.

No matter how much adoration I send in their general direction – these beautiful concoctions always wind up making me sneeze.

After many a year in denial, I'm now having to accept that I'm allergic to one of the beer world's greatest treasures.

So, at this present moment, having finally given in to the obvious, I'm not only feeling annoyingly nasal – I'm also feeling pretty glum.

I grow even more morose when I contemplate the unpleasant fact that the very beer which has finally convinced me I have an allergy issue – this here bottle of Watou's Wit Bier – just happens to be one of the finest example of it's kind I've ever tasted.

The effortless sophistication of this drink is nothing short of gob smacking. It purrs across the tongue like your old family cat might ease across the arm of its favourite couch. The drink's overall impact is understated and refined, but it zings with just the right amount of lemony high notes to make this the most delightful and ingenious battle between bitter and sweet.

Like many of the finest Belgian creations, this beer isn't brash or self-enamoured, though goodness knows many of this nation's brews would have every right to start getting just a little bit full of themselves.

But no, there's no showing off going on here. Nor, for that matter, is there any level of shrinking timidity. As with many of the best Belgian brands – there is unquestionably a quiet grandeur about the beer, but there's also very little doubt that this is – as many an English brewer would say of his or her own ales – a very 'honest' drink. It is a self-possessed but equally unassuming rendition of a famously quench-slaying beer variety.

Quite obviously, my only regret is that there is some elusive aspect of this delightful beer-type's unique make up which leaves me snuffling like a grumpy baby.

One beer among all, and it has to be one of the greats...

Just my luck!