A fine tasting ale, this.
A pale beer with its strength belied by its pale yellow colour. However it's a remarkably hoppy beer - I'd say the brewery's description of it as having "moderate bitterness" is putting it mildly, if you will pardon the pun. The bitterness - clean, citrussy bitterness from hops that had enjoyable lives - is all over this delicious, light-tasting beer. But it's 5.5% alcohol - so be careful!
On the Grebbels scale I'd give it 4.5 Cardinals.
Showing posts with label Beer Tasting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beer Tasting. Show all posts
Sunday, 5 February 2012
Friday, 22 July 2011
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes - Cocky Blonde
A lovely golden ale, this. Jennings can be proud of another great production.
A light golden colour, a certain briskness about the initial taste. And then all those lovely, lovely, bitter hops. Enjoy on a summer evening with a decent book on Steam Locos. I'll give it 5152 milliSchofields.
A light golden colour, a certain briskness about the initial taste. And then all those lovely, lovely, bitter hops. Enjoy on a summer evening with a decent book on Steam Locos. I'll give it 5152 milliSchofields.
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes - Welland Truly
Dear Readers (and fellow-ale-drinkers) - Potbelly Brewery's Welland Truly is truly (ho, ho - I should stop it, really) a fine beer.
It looks like a summer golden ale. It's brewed with lager malt and German Spalt hops. I could not say it was a terribly authentic German beer. But it is slightly sweet, full of body, full of mouth-feel and taste and a reasonable alcoholic strength. This is a good beer if you want to sit in the sun and drink not too many beers. 5/6 on the Charlene Scale.
It looks like a summer golden ale. It's brewed with lager malt and German Spalt hops. I could not say it was a terribly authentic German beer. But it is slightly sweet, full of body, full of mouth-feel and taste and a reasonable alcoholic strength. This is a good beer if you want to sit in the sun and drink not too many beers. 5/6 on the Charlene Scale.
Monday, 23 May 2011
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes - Thoroughly Modern Mild
Gadds Thoroughly Modern Mild. What can we say about this?
The obvious comment is that it is not a mild in any normal sense of the world. It is a hazy, pale beer like a golden ale. It is strongly bitter-sweet - and weighing in at 6% it has a strong alcoholic taste. In short it isn't very mild at all.
It seems to have more in common with a golden Belgian abbey ale in the Leffe line than anything else. But it is strong, warming and mor-eish. A total category error. But a nice beer. 6.2 on the Dirac scale.
The obvious comment is that it is not a mild in any normal sense of the world. It is a hazy, pale beer like a golden ale. It is strongly bitter-sweet - and weighing in at 6% it has a strong alcoholic taste. In short it isn't very mild at all.
It seems to have more in common with a golden Belgian abbey ale in the Leffe line than anything else. But it is strong, warming and mor-eish. A total category error. But a nice beer. 6.2 on the Dirac scale.
Monday, 25 April 2011
No beer at royal wedding
According to the Daily Mail and others, the consumption of beer has been banned from the Wedding of the Year.
Apparently William and Kate wish to have a "sophisticated" experience. Quite right too. After all, a couple of glasses of Blue Nun or Lambrusco and I'm as ready to read Proust and swap Wildean bons mots* as the next Archdruid. Whereas beer - well, that would be the drink of working class people, who need to drink greater volumes of their chosen bevvy to replace all the sweat they've lost while working down coal mines. And therefore appreciate the lower alcoholic content, as it enables them to drink eight or nine pints before they get the urge to have a union jack tattooed on their stomachs and then go off to trash a restaurant or two in Thame or another suitable location. Lucky they've not invited anyone like that to the wedding.
There was a church hall not far from here, that used to have a list of rules on the wall. And one was that, while beer was banned, it was acceptable to drink wine at social functions. And the message was that while good well-behaved Christian folk could drink wine, given a crack at the juice of the malt they would run amok. Or, to look at it another way, Christianity is middle-class. You want to be a good Christian, you gotta act like the Normans and Romans. Or, to look at it another, another way, "we don't want your sort in here".
I hope the reports are wrong. Instead of drinking fizzy French wine, I hope the Royal Family will be enjoying the delights of Titanic's Royal Ale, Adnams' Royal Wedding Ale or the many others that are currently being brewed in the belief that the natural drink of choice for the English people, when celebrating a British event, is English beer.
For a list of suitable Royal bons mots, you may like to read this from the Guardian. Sophisticated chaps, those wine drinkers.
Apparently William and Kate wish to have a "sophisticated" experience. Quite right too. After all, a couple of glasses of Blue Nun or Lambrusco and I'm as ready to read Proust and swap Wildean bons mots* as the next Archdruid. Whereas beer - well, that would be the drink of working class people, who need to drink greater volumes of their chosen bevvy to replace all the sweat they've lost while working down coal mines. And therefore appreciate the lower alcoholic content, as it enables them to drink eight or nine pints before they get the urge to have a union jack tattooed on their stomachs and then go off to trash a restaurant or two in Thame or another suitable location. Lucky they've not invited anyone like that to the wedding.
There was a church hall not far from here, that used to have a list of rules on the wall. And one was that, while beer was banned, it was acceptable to drink wine at social functions. And the message was that while good well-behaved Christian folk could drink wine, given a crack at the juice of the malt they would run amok. Or, to look at it another way, Christianity is middle-class. You want to be a good Christian, you gotta act like the Normans and Romans. Or, to look at it another, another way, "we don't want your sort in here".
I hope the reports are wrong. Instead of drinking fizzy French wine, I hope the Royal Family will be enjoying the delights of Titanic's Royal Ale, Adnams' Royal Wedding Ale or the many others that are currently being brewed in the belief that the natural drink of choice for the English people, when celebrating a British event, is English beer.
For a list of suitable Royal bons mots, you may like to read this from the Guardian. Sophisticated chaps, those wine drinkers.
Saturday, 16 April 2011
Out of the depths I rise
It has been a most challenging day, Dear Readers.
An enjoyable morning - I went along, at Drayton's advice, to hear Bishop Pete talk about worship. Although Drayton himself went to find something that wasn't being co-led by a woman. And I was most taken by the concept of the "Greeting" - the part where the congregation greets each other - as Eileen sometimes says, when she's in one of her Tridentine moods, "Pax vobiscum", and the congregation responds "et cum spiritu tuo".It's a short life but a varied one, in the Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley.
And I was musing on the beautiful call and response as I was on my way back from Burgh le Marsh this afternoon on my bike.
I don't know if you know Burgh le Marsh? An interesting place - mounted up on a hill above the fens like Mount Zion. But with less Sanhedrins and general trouble. The Fleece used to sell a nice pint of Olde Trip, but since Hardy & Hanson were taken over by Greene King they've got Speckled Hen instead. Which was still a very nice pint. Slightly sweet, heavy but with a good hop bite. In the Fleece, 9/10 in anyone's money.
And I was heading back to Butlins, swerving along the fen lanes, with the view of Skyline ahead of me in the distance. Like the view of the Celestial City in that book Drayton keeps going on about, or the view of Oxford that Jude the Obscure gets in that book whose name I can't remember, but which the Archdruid likes because there's a nice, pointless and poignant death in in it. Excep in the film with Dr Who in it, where Jude's still alive at the end.
And as I barrelled along the lane, I realised that someone was beeping his horn repeatedly at me. Taking my headphones off (I had been enjoying a nice bit of Kraftwerk) I turned round to see a man driving a Ford Mondeo.
"Whoi don't yew get out o' t'way, you gr't steaming poil o' donkey droppins'?" he asked. (I can't do the accent).
"And also with you," I replied, without thinking much what I was saying.
That ditch was very muddy. And the bike was much harder to ride after I'd dragged it out. And I'm very smelly now. And I'm not totally sure he was into liturgy, now I think about it. It was probably that which upset him.
An enjoyable morning - I went along, at Drayton's advice, to hear Bishop Pete talk about worship. Although Drayton himself went to find something that wasn't being co-led by a woman. And I was most taken by the concept of the "Greeting" - the part where the congregation greets each other - as Eileen sometimes says, when she's in one of her Tridentine moods, "Pax vobiscum", and the congregation responds "et cum spiritu tuo".It's a short life but a varied one, in the Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley.
And I was musing on the beautiful call and response as I was on my way back from Burgh le Marsh this afternoon on my bike.
I don't know if you know Burgh le Marsh? An interesting place - mounted up on a hill above the fens like Mount Zion. But with less Sanhedrins and general trouble. The Fleece used to sell a nice pint of Olde Trip, but since Hardy & Hanson were taken over by Greene King they've got Speckled Hen instead. Which was still a very nice pint. Slightly sweet, heavy but with a good hop bite. In the Fleece, 9/10 in anyone's money.
And I was heading back to Butlins, swerving along the fen lanes, with the view of Skyline ahead of me in the distance. Like the view of the Celestial City in that book Drayton keeps going on about, or the view of Oxford that Jude the Obscure gets in that book whose name I can't remember, but which the Archdruid likes because there's a nice, pointless and poignant death in in it. Excep in the film with Dr Who in it, where Jude's still alive at the end.
And as I barrelled along the lane, I realised that someone was beeping his horn repeatedly at me. Taking my headphones off (I had been enjoying a nice bit of Kraftwerk) I turned round to see a man driving a Ford Mondeo.
"Whoi don't yew get out o' t'way, you gr't steaming poil o' donkey droppins'?" he asked. (I can't do the accent).
"And also with you," I replied, without thinking much what I was saying.
That ditch was very muddy. And the bike was much harder to ride after I'd dragged it out. And I'm very smelly now. And I'm not totally sure he was into liturgy, now I think about it. It was probably that which upset him.
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes - Olde Trip
Named after the beautiful, historic and rather pleasant (hic) surroundings of the Olde Trip to Jerusalem - allegedly the oldest pub in England - although I suspect Ye Olde Fighting Cocks in St Albans may have as good a claim.
I have a strong link with the Olde Trip. For my many-greats grand sire, Sir Guillaume de Burton-Dassett, was the accountant at the court of King Richard, and followed him on his Crusades, counting the shields and assessing the damage to suits of armour. However, it is unlikely that Sir Guillaume would have travelled to Nottingham on his way to the Crusades. More likely he would have taken the Akeman Street down through Aylesbury, and joined up with the Nottingham contingent at St Albans (change at Luton Parkway).
the beer named after the inn is a well-balanced, darkish, medium-strength best bitter. Tastes better in the Olde Trip than elsewhere, I suspect. But will never re-create the glories of the days when it was actually brewed in the Nottingham area. How often is that the case? Old Speckled Hen tasted better when it was from Abingdon than now, from Bury St Edmunds. Ruddles County never recovered from being brewed in another county. And Carlsberg tastes just the same, wherever it's brewed.
I have a strong link with the Olde Trip. For my many-greats grand sire, Sir Guillaume de Burton-Dassett, was the accountant at the court of King Richard, and followed him on his Crusades, counting the shields and assessing the damage to suits of armour. However, it is unlikely that Sir Guillaume would have travelled to Nottingham on his way to the Crusades. More likely he would have taken the Akeman Street down through Aylesbury, and joined up with the Nottingham contingent at St Albans (change at Luton Parkway).
the beer named after the inn is a well-balanced, darkish, medium-strength best bitter. Tastes better in the Olde Trip than elsewhere, I suspect. But will never re-create the glories of the days when it was actually brewed in the Nottingham area. How often is that the case? Old Speckled Hen tasted better when it was from Abingdon than now, from Bury St Edmunds. Ruddles County never recovered from being brewed in another county. And Carlsberg tastes just the same, wherever it's brewed.
Friday, 11 March 2011
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes - Whippling
Dear Readers, what a fine ale I have to report to you today. Belvoir Ale's "Whippling".
A superb drink. A typical golden bitter to look at - if it were not for the lack of a head you might think it was a lager, till you tried it. But then you taste it.
No boy's beer this, no matter what the alcoholic strength (3.6%). A sensible beer of which you can quaff more than one pint. With a deep, deep bitterness that goes on and on. A lovely pint.
I will admit, Dear Reader, that I may have had what the Archdruid referred to as a "stupid grin" on my face when I returned to the Community. She asked me what I'd been up to. I replied, "Whippling". She told me not to be so vile. I responded that I thought she would also enjoy Whippling, if she gave it a try. She hit me on the chin, and it took me ten minutes to stand up.
Sometimes, Dear Reader, I don't understand women. Or, to be honest, people.
A superb drink. A typical golden bitter to look at - if it were not for the lack of a head you might think it was a lager, till you tried it. But then you taste it.
No boy's beer this, no matter what the alcoholic strength (3.6%). A sensible beer of which you can quaff more than one pint. With a deep, deep bitterness that goes on and on. A lovely pint.
I will admit, Dear Reader, that I may have had what the Archdruid referred to as a "stupid grin" on my face when I returned to the Community. She asked me what I'd been up to. I replied, "Whippling". She told me not to be so vile. I responded that I thought she would also enjoy Whippling, if she gave it a try. She hit me on the chin, and it took me ten minutes to stand up.
Sometimes, Dear Reader, I don't understand women. Or, to be honest, people.
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Burton's Beer (Cider) Tasting Notes
Dear Readers!
I am delighted to be addressing you again, albeit in such unexpected circumstances.
It seems a mere 6 months ago - for indeed that is what it was - that I was advising Archdruid Eileen on the tax advantages of living in the 19th century. When she unexpectedly disappeared, I realised it was time to pursue other interests. Not least because a bunch of Serbians in bomber jackets roughed me up a bit before throwing me out of the grounds of the Great House.
So imagine my surprise, while sitting supping a gentle Welsh brew in the games bar of a little estate pub in Kettering, when the sound of a smashed-up Porsche Cayenne was heard outside. Hnaef and Archdruid Eileen rushed in, grabbed me by the anorak, and dragged me into the car. Thankfully I still have the glass with me, although I promise to return it next time I'm in Kettering. In the meantime:
Gwynt y Ddraig Kingston Black cider - it's not light on alcohol this, so be responsible. It's like a sweet, still, apple-y autumn wine. Like the remembrance of a first love, but without all the bitterness and rejection. And the court injunction. A must-have. But not in great volumes. Don't forget, they may serve it in pints but it's got the strength of a light wine.
Now if you will excuse me, I have six months of tax to avoid. There's no rest for the wicked.
I am delighted to be addressing you again, albeit in such unexpected circumstances.
It seems a mere 6 months ago - for indeed that is what it was - that I was advising Archdruid Eileen on the tax advantages of living in the 19th century. When she unexpectedly disappeared, I realised it was time to pursue other interests. Not least because a bunch of Serbians in bomber jackets roughed me up a bit before throwing me out of the grounds of the Great House.
So imagine my surprise, while sitting supping a gentle Welsh brew in the games bar of a little estate pub in Kettering, when the sound of a smashed-up Porsche Cayenne was heard outside. Hnaef and Archdruid Eileen rushed in, grabbed me by the anorak, and dragged me into the car. Thankfully I still have the glass with me, although I promise to return it next time I'm in Kettering. In the meantime:
Gwynt y Ddraig Kingston Black cider - it's not light on alcohol this, so be responsible. It's like a sweet, still, apple-y autumn wine. Like the remembrance of a first love, but without all the bitterness and rejection. And the court injunction. A must-have. But not in great volumes. Don't forget, they may serve it in pints but it's got the strength of a light wine.
Now if you will excuse me, I have six months of tax to avoid. There's no rest for the wicked.
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Poor Old Rosie Suffers from Darling
Apart from graphs, Dear Readers, nothing animates me more than the subject of Real (as opposed to gassy, mass-produced, unnatural) cider and real ale.
The sale of real ales and ciders has taken a terrible bashing in pubs, mostly due to the smoking ban and now it faces yesterday's introduction of a 10% duty rise on cider.
Now I wouldn't like you to think I'm recommending you support "binge" drinking, or anything like that. But I hope you can see the difference between a craft product and something fizzy designed purely to make you feel fuzzy. And don't forget that "Real" cider is a Zero-Carbon product*.
Therefore can I recommend you to the petition for reduced duty on Real beers and ciders, to be found at the No 10 website - here. http://petitions.number10.gov.uk/Realciderbeerale/
* Actually I've no idea if this is true, but it may well be. You think of all the CO2 those trees soak up. And it sounds good.
The sale of real ales and ciders has taken a terrible bashing in pubs, mostly due to the smoking ban and now it faces yesterday's introduction of a 10% duty rise on cider.
Now I wouldn't like you to think I'm recommending you support "binge" drinking, or anything like that. But I hope you can see the difference between a craft product and something fizzy designed purely to make you feel fuzzy. And don't forget that "Real" cider is a Zero-Carbon product*.
Therefore can I recommend you to the petition for reduced duty on Real beers and ciders, to be found at the No 10 website - here. http://petitions.number10.gov.uk/Realciderbeerale/
* Actually I've no idea if this is true, but it may well be. You think of all the CO2 those trees soak up. And it sounds good.
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes - Circle Master, Wayland Smithy
So two very Beaker-ish beers to consider here, dear Readers. Both bottled, as I'm a bit afeared to go out tonight, what with the Shucks, Badgers, Toads etc wandering the place.
Wayland Smithy - named after the Neolithic burial chamber on the downs above the Vale of the White Horse. Dark-ish, more-ish, pretty nice. On the Sarsen rating, I'll give it a 2.2.
Circle Master from the ubiquitous Hobgoblin brewery of Witney. And why does the Hobgoblin pub in Bedford not sell decent beer? I only ask... but Circle master, described as a "Golden Pale Ale" is spicy, dry as a piece of sandpaper on a warm July evening. Lovely, light, but on the evidence of "just the one", quite refreshing and thirst-quenching but above all... yes, hoppy. "Target" hops, apparently. On the Sarsen scale I give it the full trilithon.
Wayland Smithy - named after the Neolithic burial chamber on the downs above the Vale of the White Horse. Dark-ish, more-ish, pretty nice. On the Sarsen rating, I'll give it a 2.2.
Circle Master from the ubiquitous Hobgoblin brewery of Witney. And why does the Hobgoblin pub in Bedford not sell decent beer? I only ask... but Circle master, described as a "Golden Pale Ale" is spicy, dry as a piece of sandpaper on a warm July evening. Lovely, light, but on the evidence of "just the one", quite refreshing and thirst-quenching but above all... yes, hoppy. "Target" hops, apparently. On the Sarsen scale I give it the full trilithon.
Tuesday, 26 January 2010
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes - Exmoor Beast
Since Hnaef's brought it up (the subject, that is - not the beer) - I thought I'd bring you, my loyal readers, up to speed with this most marvellous brew that is Exmoor Beast.
Fond indeed was I, many years since - much water has flowed under Waterloo Bridge since the days when, after a Tuesday-night Bridge session at the palatial offices of Mr John Lewis and Partners, I would adjourn with chums to the Weatherspoon's in Victoria Station. And many and oft a time we would quaff a cheery noggin of Exmoor Beast. So when I heard that Hnaef had ordered a firkin of same for his rather nerdy celebration of the number 555, I tell you I was thrilled. I tell you, I haven't been so excited since I managed to find my way to a pub where they were selling the legendary batch of Marston's Oyster Stout that they'd accidentally brewed with Saaz hops. And what an evening that was.
So returning to the wonderful Exmoor Beast. Just looking at it tells you a lot. Dark, dark, dark. A real, strong, traditional old London-style porter. Ironically for a beer from the West Country.
It's on the sweet side, but never sickly so. Dark, complex, with as many layers as Ruth Gledhill's journalism. Offering you more with every sip. A tasting beer, not a drinking beer - and one that keeps on giving. On the Julius scale it rates a 54 or 55 BC. And you can't say better than that.
Best music to drink it to: "How do you solve a problem like Maria"?
Sunday, 10 January 2010
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes - Young's Winter Warmer
Ah, dear readers of my manifold wandering, truly many of us can recall the Young's of old. Brewed in Wandsworth, the Special in particular was a kind of revelation when you drank it. I remember the odd pint, on the way back from particularly strenuous audits, in the Square Tavern in Tolmer's Square, London. A decent pub in a surprising location. And handy for Euston Station. Which, if you're heading back to Milton Keynes from Central London, is the place to be. Oh yes, you can go to Liverpool Street, but you won't end up in CMK or Bletchley.
Best music to drink it with: "I need you" by N-Dubz.
But by the late 90s Young's were clearly in a downward spiral. They weren't the brewery they were. And so it was no great disaster, given where things had got to, when all the production moved to Charles Wells at Bedford. A stronger financial base, a collaboration of brewing and pubs companies - and all brewed with the gentle water of the Great Ouse. The Great Ouse, holding the record for the widest river in Bedford.
And so what, gentle reader, do we make of Young's Winter Warmer, as brewed in Bedford? A dark beer - that is the first thing that strikes the eye. With an aroma of - is that liquorice? You think it may well be. Then a strong foretaste of liquorice is followed by a dominant taste of liquorish. With the after-taste being... well, liquorish, frankly. As an ale, it's an experience that is not unlike drinking boiled-up "Imps" sweets.
But as you get into the experience you realise that the liquorice is not an unpleasant taste. The roundness of the beer starts to soak into your soul. It is a full-bodied dark ale, of that there is no doubt. A resolute mouth-feel. And just the hint of - what? Liquorice? And the beer is indeed a warmer. You set out on the trek through the snow knowing you'll make it.
Overall: A rating of 6.2 on the Dasset scale.
Best music to drink it with: "I need you" by N-Dubz.
Sunday, 3 January 2010
Burton's Beer Tasting Notes
You know, being an accountant, one thing I have learnt is how to categorise things quite precisely. And one thing I've not learnt is that generally other people aren't that interested. When I explain to them that the brew of Old Lanyard's Exhibition Peculiar we're drinking is just a little short because they ran out of hops and had to substitute Erzatz hops for Fuddles, they tend to glaze over and get a bit shirty with me.
But the good news is that, being an accountant, I never notice. Which is why I'm happy to give you this first instalment in Burton Dasset's Beer Tasting notes.
1) Vale Brewery's "Good King Senseless". Vale are, as the name would suggest if you lived near Aylesbury, out in the Vale of Aylesbury - Witchert country. "Good King Senseless" is a real Christmas Pudding of a beer, 5% +, fruity and maybe a little cloying. 3/5.
Best drunk with - "2000 miles", by the Pretenders.
2) Everards' Sleigh Bells. 4 and a bit percent, dryer than the Vale, of course. Not too Leicester-y in the way that Tiger can be. A decent session-and-a-bit ale. 4/5.
Best drunk with - "Fairytale of New York", by Kirsty and the Pogues.
So - both decent Christmas ales, the Everard's not so Christmas-y but maybe more drinkable as a result. Maybe next year you can give them a try. Overall, I'd recommend Wadworth's Old Timer. A beer to fight your friends on.
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)