Day 150, Beer 150 - Oakham's "Green Devil IPA"

Today's Beer

Name – Green Devil IPA

Brewer – Oakham Ales

Classification – Please don't make me write 'IPA'. (Dammit!)

Strength – 6.0% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – A hoax. A deception. A trick. Making you believe it's just an ordinary light golden beer. Do not believe the lie.

On the nose – Not just hops, but actual hop vines. Tropical fruits and jungle foliage. All the multifarious aromas of a well stocked greenhouse. Not to mention the crushed nettles, the wildflowers, the nuclear grade citrus and the abundant fresh tears from your own eyes brought about by unbridled joy. Getting the picture?

On the tongue – Summarise? This stuff? Do me a favour!

On the subject – Many will consider this beer to be Oakham's 'big' version of their much celebrated 'Citra' IPA. It may be a lot more complicated than that in terms of how differently these two brews are created, but it's otherwise not a bad way of looking at it. If your mere human imagination can stretch far enough, try to imagine a version of Citra that is not only 'bigger' but also markedly better. Impossible concept?... Apparently not.

On the market – Hardly. Specialist outlets and the brewery itself are your only real options. This one came courtesy of The Real Ale Store.

On the whole – 9.5/10

Full Review

Possibly the best contemporary, ultra-hopped beer currently on the market.

There was very little point opening this review in any other way.

Now, before any of you start slamming your pints down and protesting about how all 'contemporary ultra-hopped beers' are just one trick ponies with very little to offer beyond making peoples eyes widen in semi-acute shock – let me just say that I've slammed many a pint down in protest about that too. I 'get' that argument, and there was a time when I had more than my share of sympathy for it.

But my view has shifted considerably since then, prompted mostly by my drinking a fair old selection of these new beers, and as a result I'd say that anyone who could drink a full bottle of today's beer without coming away grinning uncontrollably – probably just hasn't wrestled with enough of these beasts yet. That's not meant in any kind of disparaging way, it's really just a recognition of the fact that many people need to acclimatise to this style of beer, one which is pretty darned extreme in a whole bunch of very deliberate ways. Ultra-hopped beers need no time whatsoever to make an impact, but they can require more time than many other brews to properly get to know.

Obviously, there will always be those drinkers who get their kicks by disliking stuff, and they'll never listen even if you get your frail old granny to ask them nicely. I reckon a fair portion of the people claiming to dislike this beer will be those who just enjoy the sensation of swimming against the popular tide.

But I fear there's also a whole bunch of people who sit much further in from the extremes who don't feel able to properly familiarise themselves with these kinds of beers due to the unfortunate fact that, over recent years, things have been getting increasingly tribal and territorial in the world of 'proper' beer. The community is even arguing these days about what to call the very stuff that they are drinking. Is it 'real ale', or is it 'craft beer', and can anyone even remember why it matters?

This 'them and us' dynamic might be a source of amusing (and, sadly, sometimes overly heated) debate on social media outlets, but it's my increasingly strong belief that it will be bad for beer in the longer term.

What I see happening is that beers like Green Devil have, in some quarters, found themselves the victims of an often intolerant campaign against the entire notion of change. It's not so much the contemporary beers themselves which invite hostility, it's the perception of difference which the beers represent. Such has been the hype surrounding the recent developments in beer experimentation, and so wide-ranging have the effects been on the type of beers now being brewed, that these new beers can be sometimes be seen as threats, whether to traditional ales themselves, or to the atmosphere which surrounds the appreciation of beer in general.

It can appear to some that the new world of faux-punk, self-reverential swagger and dubious designer-stubble has simply stormed in and usurped the old world of honest straight talk, fireside sing songs and dubious non-designer-stubble.

In reality, the two apparently opposing camps aren't actually all that different from each other, but they've both successfully convinced themselves they are – so opposing attitudes are upheld regardless. In amongst all of this pointless posturing, the saddest consequence is that both sides routinely 'pooh-pooh' and actively avoid each others preferred beer styles, when the truth of the matter is that without this perceived conflict of ideologies everyone would be sat together enjoying what is only ever just beautifully engineered beer in all manner of interesting and delicious varieties.

Anyway, in hope that it might make a difference, let me invite you to set aside any preconceptions for a few moments whilst I tell you exactly why I found Green Devil to be such a monumentally rewarding experience.

As with many of these stealth-weapon beers, the first thing you notice about it is that it looks utterly unremarkable. Once in the glass, you can't help but look back at the demonic face on the label and wonder what its connection could possibly be to this unassuming, almost placid looking light golden beverage.

The only real clues as to the hugely dynamic and potent complexity which lurks within come from the aromas. Putting an 's' on the end of the word 'aroma' has never made more sense, because there are precisely eleven billion separately identifiable themes present in the fragrance of this beer. And don't go doubting my accuracy because I counted them.

Most delicious and unique among the myriad whiffs is the smell of the vines from which the hops were plucked. That's a pretty darned incredible characteristic to find. The hops themselves also have a tremendous presence, as you might expect, but to get that additional sense of the very plants upon which the hops were grown sets a new benchmark in terms of aromatic freshness in beer. Not since maniacally sniffing the rims of 'just cracked' bottles from Liverpool Organic have I been so concious of the word 'fresh' when first discovering a new drink.

But such matters of appearance and fragrance pale into near insignificance when this stuff finally reaches your mouth.

Oh boy.

Instantaneously, the concepts of refreshment and invigoration begin scrambling for new and more emphatic ways of defining themselves, as a liquid rock-slide of zesty, sumptuous bitterness collides deliciously with every region of your tongue. It's not brutal, and I've been dismissive of the term 'hop bomb' only very recently – but the dynamism, intensity and all round clarity of the taste is wonderfully bewildering and cannot fail to raise the heart-rate of any human who is alive at the point of contact.

The usual citrus and 'high-note' fruit suspects are all present (passion-fruit, gooseberry, razor sharp pineapple among many more) but the dominant battle here is between grapefruit and blood orange, with each of these two performing ever more stylish moves on its rival only to be outclassed by an effective countermeasure every time. It's thrilling to just sit back and let them tear each other to delicious shreds.

I could try to focus on the malts, and the sense of overall balance between high notes and low, but there's obviously not a lot of that going on here – and this is what can upset many lovers of established classic ales.

But we should all just accept that these beers were never meant to do any of that. That's really the point of it all. It's a different kind of experience, for a different kind of mood, presented in a different kind of way.

Ultra-hopped beers are not here to replace our old favourites – they've simply arrived to widen our options. 

Standing right at the forefront of this fresh set of options is a hugely fearsome and devilish creature, whom every last one of us should be learning to love.

Day 149, Beer 149 - Blue Monkey's "Black Howler"

Today's Beer

Name – Black Howler

Brewer – Blue Monkey

Classification – Black IPA

Strength – 5.9% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Satan's blood. In a good way.

On the nose – Citrus infused licorice, Tabasco-heavy Bloody Mary, and raw fear.

On the tongue – A toasty, spicy, juicy instant classic.

On the subject – Just like me, Blue Monkey Brewery was born in Nottingham in 2008. (Yes, I am in fact a four year old, as my ex-wife will be more than happy to confirm.) This 'local connection' filled me a certain amount of trepidation as I was very keen not to have to find fault with a company of such extraordinarily noble birth. Turns out I needn't have worried...

On the market – Considering the number of awards this company have collected over recent years, I expect national coverage to rise rapidly, but some searching may be needed for now. This one came from TheReal Ale Store.

On the whole – 8.5/10

Full Review

I love Black IPA's.

Now, obviously, there's every chance that such a dangerously generalised claim will come back to haunt me some day soon, perhaps when some of the less gifted breweries start 'having a go' at them and failing catastrophically – but the happy fact is that every company that's produced a Black IPA thus far has done so with tremendous success, and the delicious result of all this fevered experimentation is that the benchmark definition of this young beer style is transforming all the time.

It's a kind of supersonic evolution we're witnessing, with new interpretations on the essential 'theme' of this style (rich complex dark beer meets ultra-hopped light-bodied beer) hitting the shelves like dark matter bullets shot from some extra-dimensional realm.

To be clear about it – within the world that might be called 'cutting edge craft beer' Black IPA's have gone from non-existence to near domination in little over a year, and no serious contender for the (dubious) prize of 'coolest brewery' can afford to be without at least one of these beers in their portfolio.

And this brings us neatly to Blue Monkey Brewery. Already a certain contender for Kings of Cool with their standard range alone, these guys have made their claim even stronger by releasing a smaller selection of more experimental 'rare and one-off' brews under a totally separate label which they've named 'Endangered Species'. Black Howler is one of these.

So damn cool are these beers – that you won't even find them on the brewery's official website! Not even a mention. When a company starts denying the very existence of one of its own products, you just know you are stepping into the higher realms of serious bloody cool.

But of course none of this necessarily means that today's beer will actually be any good. As many of us who follow 'beer' learn more and more each day – any company's insistence on 'being cool' tells us nothing whatsoever about the quality of the products which lie behind the branding. In fact these days, a well trained beer-buying eye can detect the tell-tale signs of enforced cool and use it as a handy warning. 'Contains Toxic Self Awareness. Avoid Contact With Lips.'

Let's face it, brewery's can fail embarrassingly badly when they try to combine serious attempts at brewing beer with serious attempts at looking cool. Anyone can tell you that any serious attempt at looking cool is self defeating because the whole point of cool is that it's achieved without effort. There's obviously no better example of the self-defeating effects of coolness overkill than that of Brew Dog, a company whose genuinely excellent beers now have to enjoyed in secret by most serious minded drinkers.

So are Blue Monkey about to join Brew Dog in that murky territory where exemplary brewing talent inexplicably gives way to unrestrained vanity?

Well, not on this evidence, and that's not because Black Howler isn't a good enough beer in the first place – because believe me it is – it's simply because there are very clear signs that any vanity is being kept firmly at bay here. Firstly, the marketing of this range seems to be based on a genuine curiosity about the 'possibilities' of beer creation (they simply don't brew enough of these to be secretly fleecing us) and secondly because this great beer has been brewed and brought to market entirely without my knowledge. Brew Dog would never – ever – allow that to happen!

Black Howler is then – in marketing terms at least – a quiet beer. It's part of this brewery's exploration of the further reaches of beer experience, which people can chose to explore too if they so happen to come across it. In other words – it's actually pretty cool.

And it tastes pretty cool too. Lots of subtle spices, dark berried fruit, powerful licorice, toasted granary bread, glorious high reaching citrus (the key 'trick' of any good Black), roast chestnuts, char-grilled Cobra venom (I'd put money on it!) – this thing is just packed with all kinds of light-bodied zings, twangs and thwacks that keep you guessing (hence the Cobra venom), smiling, and of course sipping in equal amounts.

There's a fabulously ruthless bitterness in the finish which, to my taste at least, eventually leads to the licorice element lingering too long all by itself when I'd have liked some of the other complementary flavour themes to have stuck around longer with it, but that's me getting very picky considering the wealth of delicious positives.

This brew makes it clear to me that Blue Monkey are a force to be reckoned with. They are striding with impressive confidence across the new world of beer creativity, and finding some seriously impressive recipes along the way.

To my mind, that's exactly what contemporary brewing is all about.

When companies create products as unique and enjoyable as this one, those products need no further assistance to become cool.

When its brewed as expertly as this – beer is born cool. 

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 147, Beer 147 - Thwaites 'Triple C'

Today's Beer

Name – Triple C

Brewer – Thwaites

Classification – Blonde Ale

Strength – 4.4% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Brooding orange amber. Eye-catching carbonation makes for the only (microscopic) blot on this beer's copybook.

On the nose – Understated citrus hops. You might even say 'stealth' hops, given the true scale of what lies beneath...

On the tongue – Traffic-stopping, jaw-dropping citrus, yet not without some sense of restraint. Vivid, dynamic, and utterly delicious.

On the subject – Thwaites have been an established part of the cosy beer landscape in Britain for a good old while now, so this ultra-modern brew came to me as the most welcome shock. The reality is that an 'internal revolution' has been underway at the brewery for quite a while now, making for a portfolio of beers which hints at something of a split personality. Half their range is proudly traditional, whilst the other half swaggers around like it couldn't give a monkey's about such tedious things as 'heritage'. This beer is from the latter half of that spilt personality, and I can reveal that the substance behind that 'swagger' is nothing less than diamond hard.

On the market – Fairly strong national presence, with the likes of Morrison's stocking this and plenty more from Thwaites' borderline-schizophrenic output.

On the whole – 9.5/10

Full Review

Does the following statement apply to you?

"Since discovering the new wave of massively hopped beers, I find all my old favourites boring."

If your answer is 'Yes' you are by no means alone, as this sort of sentiment represents a growing phenomenon in the beer loving world which, left unacknowledged, could eventually pose a significant problem for the beer industry.

That 'problem' is essentially described as follows. Those of us who are brazen enough to consider ourselves 'clued up' about the contemporary beer scene will inevitably have sampled a number of the so-called 'hop bomb' beers which dominate the output of the modern 'craft beer' market – but many of us have subsequently found that going back to our established favourites after discovering these new beers can be an alarmingly unrewarding experience.

It's a fairly straightforward, one-way-street type of a scenario. Once you've experienced a bottle of Thornbridge's 'Jaipur', going back to buying bottles of Badger's 'Golden Champion' seems a fairly pointless endeavour.

Similarly, a glass of BrewDog's '5AMSaint' served straight from your own fridge reduces the enjoyment of shop bought Marston's 'Pedigree' by around 73.6%. Roughly speaking.

Of course I'm being ridiculously unscientific here, but although my point may be crudely put – I'm absolutely certain that the essential core of this argument is dangerously near the knuckle. And it's an argument more and more people are having to grudgingly admit.

The best 'contemporary craft' beers make the best 'old classics' taste dull.

And that statement comes from a guy who once said he'd happily die before saying anything remotely like it.

The truth which I've since had to accept is now crystal clear to me. Once you've seen the world through the prism of cutting edge craft brewed beer, it's difficult to imagine how you could ever look at it in any other way.

The comforting news, perhaps, is that the beer world is so vast, complex and enduring that any permanent shift is never going to be quite as straightforward as I'm making it seem. It's very likely that those old favourites of ours will win back a lot of the ground they might initially appear to have lost forever. Like with many aspects of life, it's really just a matter of letting new and exciting things have their moment, before they too take their place in our established experience base and thereby become every bit as boring as every other thing we've grown used to.

But for those of you still caught in the delicious glare of those 'new wave beer' headlights, today's brew is likely to become a mainstay in your fridge for a good old while.

In short, Triple C is everything a 'hop head' could wish for.

Tellingly, the widely lauded Cascade hop variety has been added at every stage of the brewing process (which happens to be three times, giving us the 'Triple' and the 'C'). The result being that this beer engulfs you with repeated swathes of vivid grapefruit, gooseberry, lime, orange peel and Bramley apple, each of which is pitched just at that mesmerising point at one extreme of the taste spectrum where any fruit sweetness inherent in the citrus begins to cross the impossible line into an almost salty bitterness, leaving your taste buds in a frenzied state of delicious bewilderment, grasping desperately at explanations as to what might be causing this glorious feeling to occur to them.

It's a massively rewarding first few sips, and it only gets better.

I want to make something absolutely clear though. This may be a hop-heavy brew, but it's certainly no 'bomb.'

'Hop bomb' is a widely used expression for beers such as this, and it's a phrase I dislike because it tends to imply that little of what happens to the drinker was a specifically targeted experience brought about by those who created the drink in the first place. Bombs, after all, are among the messiest weapons humans ever conceived of and their outcomes, once triggered, are fairly arbitrary. 'Bomb' really says very little about the enormous levels of skill found in most brewhouses these days.

If we absolutely must use multiple-casualty-devices to describe the experience of drinking a beer (snore) then Triple C has to be far closer to a 'guided-missile' than a mere explosive. It knows exactly where it's going, and it hits that target with devastating accuracy each and every time.

So, having established that there is a distinctly modern, hop-lead feel to this beer, I should add that Triple C has very little of that aforementioned new beer 'swagger'. Thwaites have been careful to keep this brew's 'traditionalist' feet sufficiently on the ground to appeal to that other (ever shrinking) section of the beer loving community whose inhabitants steadfastly refuse to be dazzled by the twinkly lights of 'so-called progress.' The sense of balance hasn't been entirely flung out of the equation as can happen with more aggressive beers of this kind – and just enough savoury biscuit malt has been left in play to keep the old guard from reaching for their torches and pitchforks.

On reflection, perhaps that's actually the best thing about this monumentally likeable drink. It has been so brilliantly conceived, so expertly brewed and so carefully brought to market in these deceptively unassuming bottles – that I don't think anyone who claims to like beer could possibly find any aspect of it not to like.

In fact, I'm now feeling so emboldened by my own super-confident rhetoric, I hereby urge everyone of legal age to go out immediately and buy one.

Trust me, there's no tastier way to work on your swagger.

Day 146, Beer 146 - Windsor & Eton's "Kohinoor"

Today's Beer

Name – Kohinoor

Brewer – Windsor & Eton

Classification – Commonwealth IPA  (And, children, that stands for Commonwealth 'Indies' Pale Ale as opposed to Commonwealth 'India' Pale Ale, m'kay!)

Strength – 5.0% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – Deep, rich, almost aristocratic amber. One might even offer forth a daft nonsensical word like 'amberstocratic' if one were a spineless, bottom-feeding cretin. (Doh!)

On the nose – Citrus Kong, high on steroids, tearing up an Asian herb garden. A deadly fragrance, but a beautiful one.

On the tongue – Punchy bitterness, surprisingly full bodied, and with an array of delicate herbal and spiced notes which put the ‘India’ right back into ‘IPA’.

On the subject – One of three beers brewed to commemorate the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee by one of the most exciting breweries in all of Britain, the Commonwealth, and the world.

On the market – All of the usual W&E stockists as listed on their website here. But wherever you find it, buy it quickly. This won’t be around forever.

On the whole – 8.5/10

Full Review

This is not my favourite Windsor & Eton beer.

I laughed to myself when I wrote that opening line, because it’s rather like some wealthy aristocratic lady declaring “sapphires aren’t my favourite blue jewels.”

The reality is that this brewery are responsible for some of my very favourite bottled beers, so when one of their creations isn’t quite as jaw dropping as one of their others – chances are it’s still probably far better than the vast majority of ales in the universe. So, on reflection, maybe that’s actually a more accurate way to begin this review...

‘This beer is far better than most other beers in the universe.’

Yes, that’s much better.

As I’ve already hinted above, one of the most instantly impressive characteristics of this beer (arguably its defining trait) is the playful way in which it introduces flavours and aromas from the Indian subcontinent. I say ‘playful’ because one can’t help but assume this is a nostalgic nod to the former British Empire and the “days of the Raj” – the very days that this beer variety was first created. But in all my years of enjoying IPA’s in all there multifarious forms, I’ve never before tasted one that evokes such a sense of India itself, and the results are both delicious and amusing.

But the fact is that these guys have such finely honed skills alongside their famously good instincts for recipe building, that they can literally chose to be playful as well as merely brilliant.

The levels of nuance are just bewildering. Some of the herbal and dried fruit 'twangs' (to name just two of many more) are almost there as flavours which you can ‘select’ to experience at your leisure, tuning your taste buds into them as and when you please, or switching certain tastes off in favour of others when the mood takes you. This, then, is rather like ‘interactive ale’, which the ‘user’ can engage with at any level that he/she desires. User defined beer is not simple to brew. These guys have the vast amounts of talent required.

The potency of the overall flavour theme and the perceived alcohol ‘thwack’ are both far bolder than the 5.0% ABV should really allow, which again shows us that these Berkshire magicians know how to maximise results from every ingredient in every part of the process.

It’s got a nicely robust salty bitterness, but there’s also a welcome sub-flavour of Jamaican Ginger Cake which brings with it enough of a subtle syrupy quality to counteract the saltiness and keep everything evenly balanced.

Overall, Kohinoor has enough ‘quirkiness’ to justify its classification as a ‘special edition’, and in many ways it is a very unique beer. But there’s also enough sheer class at play here to ensure that if this IPA decides to stick around long after the national party is over – I for one will not be complaining.

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. 

Craft Beer In Hollywood.

I came, I saw, I drank their beer.

Although, in actual fact, I didn't drink a lot of their beer, and that became a surprising source of frustration.

The truth is that the craft beer scene in Los Angeles - whilst evolving nicely - makes it somewhat difficult for you to get your hands (and, more significantly, your taste buds) on American-brewed craft beer.

How weird is that? 

I certainly wasn't expecting it.

Sure, most of the craft beer bars in this part of the world tend to dazzle you with huge selections of taps at any one time, (imagine The Euston Tap on various banned steroids) but I was staggered by the tendency to avoid home-brewed US creations (in my opinion, the most exciting beers in the world at this moment in history) in favour of the European beers which inspired them. A modest portion of these ales hail from the UK, and include titles I was appalled to find being showcased in this new mecca of the craft beer world. Old Speckled Hen and Boddingtons were literally everywhere, as were my tears after a few days.

However, in spite of this apparent institutional reticence to get 'out and proud' about just how excellent their own products are, most other aspects of the scene in LA, particularly in Hollywood where I happened to be based, are extremely positive.

There are three venues I ended up frequenting more than others, and I'm going to say a few things about each, but the final of these mentions is also effectively an appeal, because whilst I was over there this fabulous and much loved joint was forced to close down for reasons beyond its own control and it may never be able to open its doors ever again.

First up, however, is BoHo, which sits in the fairly shocking setting of the H&H complex on the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Highland Avenue (hence the acronymous name). The H&H is a self-knowingly mighty, ultra modern structure which would appear at first glance only to appeal to tourists or people who enjoy feeling a sense of their own comparative insignificance in relation to giant media-focussed corporations.

Sounds grim, right?

Well, the journey up to the second floor terrace - however harrowing - is worth it every time.

BoHo has an average of 25 working taps, a clearly constructed beer list with knowledgeable assistance freely available from the affable bar-staff, and a great 'taster rack' option (a fabulous concept not unique to this part of the world, but ubiquitous within it) where smaller measures of a selection of beers can be enjoyed before committing to a larger glass of your favourite among them. (Or simply ordering another rack!) BoHo even add the nice touch of serving each measure separately to ensure every one is tasted at optimum temperature.  

The décor is typically 'aiming at' a style based on a perception of 'European' reality, but that fails to make it tacky despite the fact that it absolutely should. The food - prepared with equal pride as the beer - is excellent, including the very best French-Fries I can ever recall indulging in. 

This is a first class venue, and the one to which I returned most often during my stay.

Second up is Stout - Burgers & Beers (more often known simply as 'Stout') which sits in a far more 'authentic' street setting along Cahuenga Boulevard in between Hollywood Boulevard and Selma Avenue. 

I found this place a little irritating every time I went, which was a big shame because so much about it is otherwise perfect and I really wanted to like it more. However, I'll deal with the positive aspects first because they really are very positive indeed.

I couldn't count the taps which jut out of every spare inch of the back wall of the curved bar area, but let's just say there are probably as many taps as there are states in the Union. (Okay, maybe a bit less, but there are plenty!)

Again, the foreign brews outnumbered the domestics, but the selection is large enough to keep you happy without Europeans having to 'go back home' during a session. (Isn't it odd how US and UK beers seem to be revered more by their opposite numbers than by themselves at the present time!) The bartenders are always responsive to a 'geek level' enquiry (partly as I sensed most punters at this place just want 'a beer' and are far more interested in those other items referred to in this venue's full name which, incidentally account for a greater overall chunk of the place's considerable local reputation.) 

The open air 'beach hut' feel to the joint is nice and the vibe among the punters is relaxed and unpretentious. 

My unassailable gripe was simply with the members staff who work on the 'room side' of the bar, who carry themselves around the place as though it were perfectly obvious that they are of far greater significance within the confines of this establishment than any visitor could ever be. I once saw one poor guy sat near me at the bar ask a passing waitress for a bowl of fries and, with a look of undisguised contempt, she informed him that any customer sat in his position needed to "speak with the bar tender about that". It's one of those places (actually pretty rare in LA, in my experience) where there is no attempt to hide the fact that certain people are only nice to you because of the possibility that you will eventually show your appreciation for such friendliness in the form of a tip. You can almost smell the sense of - "Why be nice to people sat at the bar when protocol dictates that the bartender will eventually be taking their money?"

Making things yet worse, was the staff's tendency to conduct their conversations with each other (about whatever was on the 'after-hours' agenda) across the room at whatever volume was necessary, even if it meant leaving menu-clutching punters open mouthed in the middle of placing their order whilst they waited for the chat to conclude. (Which, on one occasion I witnessed, was a moment that never actually came!...The waitress in question in this case continued a conversation with a colleague across the room - pad in hand with half of the customer's food order already written down - until the folks who were trying to complete that order eventually made a decision among themselves to get up and leave. A proactive measure which the waitress herself remained oblivious to until they were long departed.)

All of the beer at Stout left a great taste in my mouth.

Some of the staff at Stout left an ulcer in it.

This brings me nicely on to the third venue, a place where great beer, great food and great atmosphere was very much enhanced by concious and diligent employees. What this third venue has been let down by, however, is the small print in its own tenancy agreement.

The Blue Palms Brewhouse, situated (or at least it was until very recently) on Sunset Boulevard near Gower Avenue, quickly became a favourite with proper brew loving Los Angelinos, and it's sudden closure - on the very day after I first discovered it - is a cruel blow to the entire craft beer identity of the city. 

Totally unaware of the imminent downing of tools, I chose this place to watch the Superbowl (an event which I learned much about from a fellow punter - the generally malt-preferring Brian - who succeeded in revealing to me that American Football is actually pretty damn riveting once you know what the hell is going on!)

It was only after the game was nearing its conclusion that word began to pass through the bar that this was actually its last night of business for the foreseeable future. Details emerged that ownership of the larger 'parent' building next-door (a cinema) had changed hands, and that new owners had ideas of their own about best use of the site. New ideas which were unlikely to revolve around the serving and enjoying of immaculately kept craft beer.

The closest we could get to the truth that night was that the closure was "Temporary... hopefully!" (Three weeks later, there has been little subsequent change in that night's unsettling assessment, and fears of a permanent 'lights out' are growing ever stronger.)

This, then, was a really mixed night for me. The discovery of the (long hidden) joys of the NFL, and the simultaneous discovery of a genuinely outstanding bar, one which was about to be comprehensively undiscovered through no fault whatsoever of its own.

To mention a few things that made (make) the Palms special are the beer list itself  (a giant screen looming over the bar like an airport departure board and filled with more beers than you ever thought could coexist under one roof), the sheer quality of the beer which appears shortly after a choice from that screen has been made, the terrific staff members who assist you with that choice and bring the chosen beer to you, and the relaxed but comfortable feel of the place in which you sit back and drink it. 

Those marvellous staff members, by the way, deserve far better in my opinion than to be left in limbo like there appear to have been. 

As well as the enormous choice on the screen, there is a separate Bottled Beer menu (pictured below, among a few other shots of this venue), and the fiendish lure of this particular list was one which I manifestly failed to resist. (Those of you who know this website will have guessed that I didn't actually attempt to resist it at all. Not one little bit.) 


So, all in, the loss of The Blue Palms is one which should absolutely be prevented if at all possible. I can only think to suggest to beer lovers across the world - who view any closures of such places as a seriously bad thing - that they 'tweet' their support to the staff themselves via this link or give a shout out on their own website here, in the hope that a large enough show of support might tip the balance in their favour.

Overall, there are a fair number of other fine craft beer joints in the Hollywood area of LA (Mowhawk Bend also comes highly recommended), and although this city still lags behind many other US destinations in this regard, it is certainly way ahead in a great many others, and the sooner this famous town has as many such bars as it merits the better. In the meantime I'd say it needs to fight as hard as it can to keep the excellent ones it already has.

It would be a bad time for LA to start losing what has become some very healthy momentum. 

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(Here's a badly shot visual flavour of The Blue Palms, including my bottle of Avery Brewing Co's anniversary brew 'Seventeen' - a very decent dry hopped black IPA. Oily, 'roasty', hopped with restraint, and with an alcohol content which must have been deviously concealed by Darth Avery himself, assuming such a malevolent figure exists.)

Yes, I know, the Avery has a big head. 

It was the Superbowl! 

It's hard to pour beer in that kind of atmosphere!