Day 157, Beer 157 - Wye Valley's "Butty Bach"

Today's Beer

Name – Butty Bach

Brewer – Wye Valley

Classification – Premium Ale

Strength – 4.5% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Caramelised, honeyed apricot.

On the nose – A whole world of malted buttery loveliness.

On the tongue – A proper classic-style bitter. Nutty, fruity, and laced with pleasing hints of British woodland foliage. Sounds great doesn't it, so why am I sobbing in the corner? (Read on...)

On the subject – Herefordshire's Wye Valley Brewery have, courtesy of this beer, brought my entire life to a crucial moment. (Read on...)

On the market – This company's reach has been increasing of late, with various supermarkets now getting the message which, obviously, is great for them. If only this could be said of so many other fabulous British breweries of similar size. I weep. Anyway, contact the brewery direct for sales info.

On the whole – 8/10

Full Review

There ain't nothing wrong with this beer.

Now, it could be argued that opening lines such as the one you have just read are deliberately ambiguous. Sometimes, sentences of this kind in beer reviews are significant purely in terms of what they don't say.

After all, just because a brew is largely free of faults, it doesn't necessarily follow that it's overrun with plus points.

Personally, I'd say I must have imbibed hundreds of 'faultless' beers which I'd completely forgotten about seconds after they've been swallowed.

An awful beer, on the other hand, will almost never leave you alone, even if you only took a couple of sips from it over twenty years ago. This is a devastating reality which ruins not only individual evenings, but can also set back careers, break up families and end worlds.

I'm exaggerating only very slightly there, as anyone who's ever had to politely sit through an entire glassful of their mate's rubbish home-brew will know only too well.

But the far more widely experienced reality here on Earth comes in the form of that extensive bunch of beers which fall into the rather curious category of 'being perfectly pleasant.'

In fact, probably the majority of the beers we'll ever taste will fall within that catchment.

Now, given that I'm talking in these terms here today, you would be forgiven for suspecting I'm going to include Butty Bach in this pretty enormous group of ales.

Well, for a while, that's exactly what I thought was going to happen, until I took a moment to put the sampling of this beer into context, and what happened next was rather profound.

Before this beer, I had reviewed several beers which represent (in stunning fashion) the very best of what is increasingly referred to as either 'contemporary', 'new wave' or perhaps most commonly 'craft' beer.

I'm talking about beers such as Oakham's 'Green Devil IPA', Odell's '5Barrel Pale Ale', Moor's 'Revival' and Thornbridge's 'Chiron' – each of which is quite simply 'big' in its impact upon your body and soul. As is arguably the defining characteristic of craft beer, 'more is always more' with these creations, whether it be in terms of flavour, process, or the sheer amount of ingredients.

As my reviews of these beers make clear, I happen to like these brews a heck of a lot. I've welcomed all beers of 'this kind' to the party and I sincerely hope they stay until the very end.

But my response to these beers has triggered an unfortunate side effect.

When I subsequently sit back down with a beer like today's – which faithfully represents the sort of drink which got me interested in 'beer' in the first place – the closest I can get to a full-on positive reaction is nearly always the same...

“There's nothing wrong with this.”

For someone who has loved beer for so long, this is a pretty grim experience to find yourself having.

I'd really like to hear from anyone else who has faced this situation head on, either now or previously, because I'd very much like to know what can be done about it.

In the meantime, let me just say that Butty Bach, for all I know, is probably an exceptional example of a beer style I'm a little bit indifferent to right at this moment. It's got some excellent malt elements – rich and buttery, nutty, with soft caramel and granary loaf undertones – it also has a good range of fruit notes, it's woody and herbal in just the right places, it's bitter but not harsh, it's sweet but not syrupy... it really sounds like I'm talking about a very good beer here.

And I probably am.

Maybe Wye Valley could take everything this drink is already doing and simply 'ramp it up' a little, and make it come at me with a bit more conviction, perhaps even with a little bit of a swagger. But wouldn't that just be inviting the beer to cross over into the 'other' camp, thereby depriving it of the very identity it always intended to have?

I think I'm a bit confused.

I think my allegiance to all my 'old favourite' beers is probably now officially in question.

I think perhaps 'craft beer' has lot of bloody explaining to do.

For now, though, let me end like this...

Butty Bach is a very good example of a classic style English premium ale – and the significance of that conclusion is very different today to what it would have been 157 beer reviews ago.

And I honestly don't know how I feel about that...

Day 148, Beer 148 - Windsor & Eton's "Canberra"

Today's Beer

Name – Canberra

Brewer – Windsor & Eton

Classification – Commonwealth Ale (Confused? Read on...)

Strength – 4.0% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Deep, lustrous chestnut. Like some gloriously implausible rum and molasses cocktail.

On the nose – Good God! Big hops with equal treacle (which should be a band name) underscored with delicious smoky liquorice (which definitely should not be a band name).

On the tongue – Rich, rewarding and complex with fabulously zesty hops, all kinds of complimentary sub-flavours and an overall punch far greater than its strength ought to allow.

On the subject – This is the final beer of three brewed by Windsor & Eton to commemorate ‘Jubilee 2012’, and it’s arguable they've saved the very best for last. (See one of them reviewed here, and trust me that the other was totally ace.)

On the market – Another ‘grab it while you can’ beer arrives on The Bottled Beer Year, with the safest bet of doing so being to purchase from the brewery direct.

On the whole – 9/10

Full Review

As the inevitable 'end of year reviews' begin to clog up every last media outlet over the coming weeks, much will be said about what has been (in any UK-linked territory at least) the 50^th anniversary of Queen Elizabeth’s time spent having to shake hands with unwell, poorly paid taxpayers – otherwise known as The Diamond Jubilee.

What might not be mentioned during all this dewy-eyed hullabaloo – not nearly as much as it should be, at least – is the relatively small contribution made to these festivities by a certain UK brewery, in the form of three enormously lovely (and even more enormously diverse) commemorative beers.

Long before this year-long national party had started, the magicians at Windsor & Eton had been quietly impressing me and thousands of other ale fundamentalists with an ever growing roster of astonishing beers, each of which manages to combine cutting edge characteristics and flavour themes with an equally immediate sense of tradition – an elusive little trick which few other breweries ever quite manage to pull off.

Uniquely, Canberra is called a ‘Commonwealth Ale’, and whilst that’s probably just the brewery entering into the spirit of their own idea and having a bit of fun with the royal theme, it’s also perfectly fitting that they should essentially invent an entirely new beer style for this brew because in my experience there just ain’t nothing like it currently available on the open market.

From the moment of contact with the lips this stuff begins racing around the full flavour spectrum like the proverbial bat out of Berkshire, and before you can properly identify any specific notes – it’s already begun firing barrages of new tastes at you as though it genuinely intends to kill you.

And this pleasantly aggressive characteristic is one of the things that most impresses about Canberra. After you remind yourself of the relatively benign alcohol content (4.0% ABV),  you realise it beggars belief how they've managed to empower this drink with such a wealth of robust flavours as well as its almost menacing sense of inner might.

Specifically, the flavours at play here are spiced orange citrus, ginger cake, green figs, fennel, restrained cocoa, delicate traces of maple syrup – and the malts underpin all of this with a super-unique roasted nut, char-grilled tree sap kind of a twang which, frankly, leaves you wanting to sit the hell down and contemplate the inside of your own mouth for a good old while.

This really is a genuinely dynamic and hugely rewarding concoction.

All in all, this three beer salute to the British monarch has been imbued with a majesty every bit as grand as the one it was intended to reflect. The only difference being that this Windsor brewery has taken just a few short years to generate the same glorious heritage which a certain other local resident needed half a century to acquire.

An exaggeration?

Sip it and see.

Day 145, Beer 145 - Oldershaw's "St Wulfram's Summit"

Today's Beer

Name – St Wulfram's Summit

Brewer – Oldershaw

Classification – Bitter

Strength – 4.3% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Deviously traditional. A 'new wave' beer walking among us disguised as an old favourite.

On the nose – Tree bark. Tree sap. Tree fruits. Tree mendous. (I tried not to write that. I honestly did.)

On the tongue – Peppery, sharp citrus bitterness, pine nut and savoury biscuit malts. Decidedly 'unbad.' (My word. Leave it alone.)

On the subject – Proof positive that this brewery, having taken recent giant strides, is now among the most exciting micros in the land. The branding is new, the bottle-conditioning has been greatly refined, and somehow their beers just keep getting better. 

On the market – This was initially brewed to showcase the restoration of Grantham's principle landmark, but responses have been so positive things may be looking more long term. Contact the brewery for the latest on this.

On the whole – 8.5%

Full Review

In some ways, Oldershaw Brewery have spent the last few years spoiling their own party.

And my life.

The good news is that they've simultaneously been planning a much better party, and thereby giving people like me the chance to live much richer lives - in place of lives that were actually far less fulfilling than we'd ever realised.

Let me explain.

A few short years ago, a beer like today's beer would have shot straight to the top of my high score chart. After all, today's beer – for all it's contemporary use of multiple high citrus hops sourced from across the world – is essentially a beautifully balanced amber bitter.

Since those days, Oldershaw's glorious party-wrecking has got well under way, and this has come in the form of some extraordinarily dynamic and creative beer creations, which have quietly placed this small brewery right at the heart of the modern 'hop-concious' craft beer scene.

Basically, the beers which Oldershaw and certain others have been producing (such as Blonde Volupta, Regal Blonde and Alchemy) are possesive of so much which is dynamic, vibrant, complex, exciting and just plain old delicious – that after while they make all the old classics seem just a little bit dull.

Personally, I now find even a well kept pint of Pedigree to be somewhat underwhelming. That's rather like an Archbishop losing interest in the Bible.

But as surprising and distressing as this apathy towards established favourites is, the rewards derived from these new beers are numerous enough to more than compensate.

However, what the beer world has needed for a long time now, is for some of the most exciting breweries to take a fresh look at a beer style which has fallen out of favour during this recent period of creativity. Falling out of favour is bad enough, but far more significant in these PR concious times is the fact they've fallen out of fashion. Fashion has become a dominant force in the world of craft beer, and one beer style in particular has become its victim.

That beer style can loosely be described as 'amber bitter.'  Or 'the browns', as they are so often referred to by those who would have them disappear for good.

It's actually not rocket science. We've simply needed someone to step up and create a 'brown' which has a sense of it's own place in time. Less of a Gordon Brown, and more of a James, or an Ian, or even a Cleveland Brown.

For a good few years now, the beer world has been in urgent need of a 'cool' brown. And – slowly but surely – such creations are gradually beginning to emerge.

Breweries who care just a little bit more about beer than they do about new-media lead popularity contests are starting to sneak out some amber, bitter-style beers which are, in themselves, every bit aware of the recent developments in beer recipe creation and the huge changes in the wider public's preferences that these developments have inspired.

Admittedly, even with this new approach, these new browns still feel less abundantly and immediately attention-grabbing than the ultra-hopped golden beers or even the sumptuous new breed of 'roasty toasty' darks, but making a massive instantaneous impact is not the only purpose of beer, and I firmly believe that a permanent loss of this middle ground beer style will spell disaster for Planet Ale in the long term.

These beers have been the rock against which all the recent displays of flair and ingenuity have been tethered. Many 'browns' were the very inspiration for all of the magnificent creativity we've all benefited from over recent times. But the way in which the beer scene has turned against them – like teenagers turning on their devoted parents – has been pretty regrettable in my opinion, and the potential for their permanent disappearance is worrying to say the least.

And so, even though Oldershaw brew beers which are clearly more 'jaw-dropping' and 'mind bending' than this beer, I'm possibly more glad of it's arrival than I have been about any other title on their list.

'Summit' has zero sweetness, a dynamic and refreshing bitterness, with a subtle savoury biscuit/nut base, and it has been brewed by a company who stand at the forefront of the recent march away from boring brown beer.

This is exactly the kind of product that the market needs.

A distinctly modern beer for the traditionalists to savour, and for the fashion victims to be reminded that the world of beer is a lot less 'black and white' than they've recently been telling themselves.

Brown is the new black.

And it's tasting great. 

Day 142, Beer 142 - J.W. Lees & Marco Pierre White's "The Governor"

Today's Beer

Name – The Governor

Brewer – J.W. Lees with Marco Pierre White

Classification – 'All malt' beer/Bitter

Strength – 4.1% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Rich, vivid amber.

On the nose – Buttery nuts and lemon zest.

On the tongue – A tale in itself. Possibly the most courageous beer in history... (read on)

On the subject – Manchester based J.W. Lees are one of northern England's most established and most esteemed breweries. This team-up with Marco Pierre White (one of northern England's most established and most esteemed chefs) makes perfect sense on almost every level.

On the market – The Morrison's chain leapt on this one early, but for those without the inclination to leave the house can try the brewery's own online store.

On the whole – 8.5/10

Full Review

Okay, so this is the highly regarded J.W. Lees brewery in collaboration with one of modern cuisine's most celebrated maestros Marco Pierre White.

Basically, what I'm saying here, is that it's hard not to have some very specific expectations growing in your mind when you sit down to review a product such as this. It's so easy to fall into the trap of anticipating something ultra-this or hyper-that which will fly at you with all kinds of bells, whistles and la-di-dah.

Try as I might not to fall victim to this trap, there's no question that I did – and as a consequence, the lid on this bottle was opened with the very same kind of excitement that the younger version of myself would have opened a parcel at Christmas.

But I have to say that things didn't quite turn out as I'd expected.

In fact, by the time I'd taken my first two sips, I was left wearing a similar expression to the one I wore on Christmas Day 1983 when I learned that my biggest present was a giant framed poster of E.T. and not a small snooker table.

Not exactly disappointed, but not exactly blown away.

This beer's initial impact was so remarkably understated, that in those first few moments I could even have claimed that I found it 'lacking'.

There was certainly nothing wrong with it, and the essential 'feel' of the drink was exactly as you would expect from a brewery of such standing. But where was Marco Pierre White? Where were all those years of attention to flavour detail, the diligent assemblage and construction of themes, and the playful interaction of one nuance pitted against another?

Where was the signature of a great artist?

Simply put, I was somewhat bemused. But finding myself convinced that this couldn't be the full story, I downed tools (I put my pen down) and I just sat with the drink for a while – in exactly the way I would have done if beer reviews were not a part of my life.

And, it soon transpired that both the beer and I were greatly appreciative of this unscheduled tea break, because what should begin to emerge after a few extra sips...?

Nothing less than the scrawled, flamboyant autograph of a truly great artist.

What began to dawn on me during these further sips, was that this beer had been subtly tinkering with the workings of my mind. Instead of allowing me to dictate the circumstances surrounding this taste test, the beer itself had taken charge. We were going to do this it's way – not mine – and in the first instance, this required me to kick back and take some proper time.

This beer is not a drink which sets out to bedazzle you upon first contact. In fact, it has no interest whatsoever in tickling your fancy or providing a quick thrill. This beer is in it for the long haul, and it wants to be your friend for life.

By the time I was just over halfway through, I looked back at the bottle and reminded myself of the relatively benign 4.1% ABV, and suddenly the whole thing made sense. I could go on drinking this beer not just all evening, but pretty much forever more.

It plays the long game, skilfully giving you just the right amount of each of its characteristics to maximise the enjoyment of a series of glasses – instead of sweeping you off your feet in an instant, only to become irksome or overwhelming shortly afterwards. (A problem which a great many contemporary 'impact beers' have in spades.)

For a new beer to have the confidence to take this slow burn approach is seriously impressive. Though, I gather 'confidence' is not something Mr White is massively short of, so perhaps it should come as little surprise.

Nutty, lightly fruited by pear, peach and apple, with some lovely sponge cake and caramel undertones, this is a light-bodied, refreshing beer which I simply cannot imagine myself ever tiring of.

I can think of very few beers that I could so confidently make such a claim about.

Some beers are for life, not just for Christmas.

This is one of them.

-

Day 138, Beer 138 - Shepherd Neame's "Canterbury Jack"

Today's Beer

Name – Canterbury Jack

Brewer – Shepherd Neame

Classification – Bitter

Strength – 4.0% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Deep, vibrant orange gold.

On the nose – Nutty. In fact, this is a very serious nut-case, bordering on insane. (Yes, I know. Poor gag.)

On the tongue – Well, there's a real story here. (Read on...)

On the subject – Legend has it that the cask version of this started life as an occasional beer, but punter power was victorious yet again, and Shepherd Neame grasped the opportunity to entirely funk-up the recipe as well as the branding. And, for the benefit of all you cynics out there – yes, 'funk-up' was spelled correctly.

On the market – Perhaps not the most ubiquitous title of the Shepherd Neame range, but still found regularly in Tesco. For the housebound, the agrophobic and the downright lazy there's always Tesco.com.

On the whole – 8.5/10

Full Review

What do we really mean by 'proper' beer?

Well, due to the abundant variety of humanoids currently active in this mortal realm, I'd say we all mean something every so slightly different when we use such subjective words.

So let me quickly narrow it down and simply deal with what I mean by 'proper' beer.

I'm feeling the need to do this because as soon as I'd taken my first sip of today's beer, I found myself declaring (actually out loud) that 'proper beer' was exactly what this ale was.

But a few short moments later, and I began to wonder what this spontaneous statement actually meant, and I soon realised it's nothing like as straightforward as I'd first imagined.

Having eventually set aside a bunch of unsatisfactory definitions for 'proper' such as 'superior', 'conventional', 'normal' and even 'as God intended' - I was finally left with the only definition which seemed to comfortably fit with Canterbury Jack.

'Proper, traditional tasting beer'.

However, this was actually quite a surprising conclusion to reach, given the label's claim that this a 'contemporary ale', a claim which is ably enhanced by some uncharacteristically 'groovy' Shepherd Neame branding. (Uncharacteristic, but also rather nice.)

So what had gone wrong here? Why did the label and the branding say one thing, whilst the beer itself was saying something quite different, albeit deliciously so?

It didn't take long for this question to be answered, and the solution came in the form of a few further sips. Sips which revealed that some seriously clever work has gone on in the Shepherd Neame brewhouse.

What they've managed to do here, is create a beer which takes all the best aspects of 'traditional ale' and then puts the most marvellous and ingeniously subtle ultra-modern 'spin' on its own identity.

By steering clear of heavy syrupy malts, by keeping the malt flavour contributions limited to savoury biscuit and nut themes, and by then ramping up the citrus via some vividly bitter hops, they've created a beer which bridges that pesky ever-widening gap between the two increasingly divergent and resolute camps of 'old beer' and 'new beer'.

As such bridging attempts go (and there are quite a few on the market these days) this is easily one of the most successful. Whether these bridge beers will ultimately manage to keep the warring camps connected is yet to be seen. Many would argue that its a question of either/or, and there's no hope for the 'in-betweeners', but I'm pretty sure that fine beers like this one are enough to make anyone stop and reconsider.

I really can't imagine any beer lover not finding this brew 'perfectly drinkable' at the very least, and I can imagine plenty more who would notch it up as an instant favourite. It's just a question of those drinkers and these bottles coming together in the first place, and that all depends on bridging beers 'catching on'.

Personally, I think it's something of a missed opportunity in the industry at present. The recent surge in creativity and experimentation within the world of craft brewing has created a divide, everyone knows it, and these 'bridge beers' should now be announcing themselves as such, taking on a clear self-identity all of their own, rather than trying to appeal to both opposing factions all at once which can make them appear aimless, mercenary, or as something which ultimately reflects nothing that either side really 'stands for'.

With the creation an entirely separate 'third way' camp – a clearly defined middle-ground alternative wherein good all-round, well-balanced beers are the name of the game – a whole new following could be found.

I live in hope...

In the meantime, this is a perfect example of this new, connective kind of beer.

Nutty, biscuity, richly bitter, medium bodied, crisp, dry, and greatly enhanced by dynamic highly-hopped citrus – this truly is a beer to suit every taste.

And, on reflection, perhaps that's what I really meant by 'proper beer'.

Day 108, Beer 108 - Liverpool Organic's "Joseph Williamson"

Today's Beer

Name – Joseph Williamson

Brewer – Liverpool Organic

Classification – Bitter

Strength – 4.1% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Lustrous deep red chestnut. Stunning.

On the nose – Solid tantalising malts and vivid spiced-citrus hops.

On the tongue – The most complete bitter I've yet discovered. Nothing less than a religious experience.

On the subject – If a sense of this brewery is what you're looking for, I think it's probably better to read on...

On the market – I could summon thunder with indignation! What I mean is, this beer is way too hard to come by as things stand. If you're outside of Liverpool, try the brewery's own online store.

On the whole – 9.5/10

Full Review

It would be extremely reckless and hotheaded for me to begin this review by blurting out an insanely sweeping statement along the lines of “this brewery is currently producing the best bottled beers in Britain” – so I'm going to take whatever steps necessary to avoid saying that, or anything else remotely along those lines.

I'm going to avoid it so determinedly because such a statement would be a dangerous combination of unscientific (I haven't tried bottled beers from every other brewery in Britain), sensationalist (there are ways of praising a company's efforts without singling them out so dramatically), and most crucially – it would be downright risky (my already questionable reputation would be in danger of total collapse if I were to go so far out on a limb for just one relatively small firm.)

I mean – let's just be perfectly honest here. There's little doubt that any writer who opened with such a bold claim as 'this brewery is currently producing the best bottled beers in Britain' – would clearly have little interest in journalistic values or the search for ultimate truth, they would quite obviously be far more interested in attention-grabbing sound bites and the sort of smutty, reductive titillation that appeals only to the most spineless and amoral demographic.

There really is no question about any of that.

In this particular case, however, my chief obstacle when trying to avoid use of such sweeping statements happens to be a very significant obstacle, and that obstacle comes in the shape of the following fact...

This brewery is currently producing the best bottled beers in Britain.

You see my dilemma.

Like I say, there was very little left of my reputation anyway – so what the hell.

One way or another, this is how I see it. The extensive range of bottled beers that Liverpool Organic are churning out at this point in time are – without doubt – the freshest, most vivid, most immediate and ultimately the most impressive brews on the open market.

Other beers may match the quality of these ales, but it would be a rare beer indeed which bettered them.

I've sampled around half of the full spread of ales that they have to offer so far (with some reviews already out and more to follow), but that's enough for me to get to the point where I simply cannot contain myself any longer. There are literally a small a handful of trend-setting breweries in this country at present, whom all other breweries (micro sized and larger) look to for inspiration and ideas, and it can sometimes seem that those 'hot' breweries are simply those with the greatest number of Tweets and Facebook updates. (Run the numbers on this theory if you have time, you'll be amazed at the link between 'social networking', 'influence' and ultimately 'sales'. I've long argued that the wireless hub has now become the most important tool in the brewhouse.)

Imagine a world where beer, and beer alone, builds reputations. In that world, I believe Liverpool Organic would currently wear the bottled crown.

But, as we are all obliged to live in this world, I can only suggest that L.O. get themselves a Twitter account as rapidly as possible and start sending out a semi-constant barrage of meaningless drivel.

Because it works.

Sales will triple in eighteen months, and I'll be able to stop putting my reputation on the line with sweeping statements about how superior their beers are – because everyone will already know.

This particular beer of theirs, 'Joseph Williamson' (part of their 'Heroes Of Liverpool' range) has a somewhat unfortunate title. Joseph Williamson himself was a real-life champion of the working people of Liverpool, and as such he has every right to have things named after him, such as libraries, museums, social clubs, roads, leisure centres, a bridge, a stadium or anything with an important public profile. But not a beer. And certainly not the finest craft bitter in the nation. The problem with the title Joseph Williamson that is 'says', or 'suggests', or 'conjures up a sense of' absolutely nothing to most people in the world. Consequently, most people will have no idea about what to expect from this beer, and most consumers would be put off by that.

This problem is elevated from nuisance level to far greater severity by the fact that it's not even called a 'bitter' on the label. It's called 'TunnAle.' This, basically, is a private joke between the brewers and any people in Liverpool who have an above-average knowledge of local history. Anyone outside of Liverpool is left to wonder what a strange and curious thing a 'tunnale' might be, before deciding not to risk any money on it and buying themselves a bitter instead.

Now, I wouldn't normally bother with such trivialities as branding (the bottle does actually look lovely, and there's no problem at all with the general styling of the brewery's 'image') but when the beer in question is as good as this, I feel duty bound to get it poured down the necks of as many people as possible – and that (sadly, but truly) is often the point where branding becomes every bit as important as the product. A name or a bit of bad design can so easily prove a hindrance to an excellent beer. In this case, I just wish they'd found a more creative way to 'honour' this man without simply using his name. Did he not have a nickname, or an unusual hobby? Or why not just call the beer 'TunnAle', keep the gentleman's very nice portrait on the front, and tell us all about the link on the back? It would still be in his honour, and we'd all know what we were buying. Or if it absolutely has to be called Joseph Williamson, it should at least say 'bitter' somewhere to help us out, instead of a 'joke' beer variety, which is guaranteed to amuse far fewer people than it will bewilder.

Anyway, enough of all this.

I suppose I'd better say a little something about what this beer is actually like.

Don't think I can't hear those groans of relief!

Well, believe me, this is no easy task. Focussing on a single beer in Liverpool Organic's range is like trying to focus on a single star in the clearest of night skies. However, the one advantage that Joseph Williamson has over all the other liquid miracles on the list – is that this is perhaps the most magnificent.

As I've already suggested above, this is the most complete bitter I've yet to find during this project, and easily as good as any I'd found in all the years before.

A dry, crisp, lightly smoked and spiced, sharply citrus, richly nutty, medium bodied, easy drinking festival of a beer. There's nothing remotely 'old school' about it, and yet there is an instant sense of familiarity, and I find this element alone to be an essential part of any favourite beer.

It's an enigmatic ale, but it's no show off. It is refined and elegant, but it feels 'inclusive', like a drink which wishes to be enjoyed rather than admired.

But admire it you just do. It leaves you with no choice.

The hops are dynamic and vivid, but they merely co-exist with the sumptuous malts, which themselves never stray into outright sweetness – but tantalize you with the feeling that they might.

The true highlight, though – as with all of this brewery's offerings – is the exceptional freshness of the drink. The sense of 'nature alive' (probably stemming from the all-organic ingredients and the very well executed bottle-conditioning) is as stunning and as vibrant as ever here. Beer can seldom taste more fresh, in bottled form or any other.

Rounding things off is the gentlest and most mesmerising 'finish', which floats airily around in the mouth like the kindly ghosts of all cherished beers past, present and future. I did try to explain it with less whimsy, but this really is the closest description I can provide.

All in all, I was genuinely moved by this drink.

It was only a glass a beer, so that really shouldn't have been possible.

But it's all very true, and I suspect that only by drinking this ale could you ever properly understand.

I urge you to go and do so.

(UPDATE - 08/11 - Six days after this was posted, Liverpool Organic were up and running on Twitter. Would I be so deluded and egocentric to imagine this post was responsible? You bet I would! Either way - it's a great development! Find them at @LivOrganicBrew)

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