The BeerCast

The other week during the recording of one of our podcasts, we started to discuss the concept of Evening Beer, and what it meant. After a bit more thought, this could become a definite category for ales – more or less the exact opposite of Session Beer, that great British invention. I mean that sincerely by the way – the traditional 4%abv beer definitely still has its place, even if some more modern brewers look down their noses at the thought. A visit to the pub – surely one of the great things about being British – requires a few hours (unless it’s lunchtime). Drinking lower abv beers is really the only option, unless you possess a lead-lined stomach.

The new wave of American or US-inspired breweries may not like the idea, but session beer still has a concrete place in the British pub-going setup. That’s not to say we’re a nation of effeminate 3% drinkers, unable or unwilling to tolerate flavour – there’s just a time and a place. This is where Evening Beer comes in. When drinking at home many people I know would prefer one or two full-flavoured stronger beers, rather than attempting to replicate the pub experience and have half a dozen bottles of Cairngorm’s Trade Winds and a packet of dry roasted. So the criteria for an Evening beer are along the following lines:-

Pack a punch
This can be either pure alcohol strength, or simply a hefty taste from a specific ingredient. Session Beers are usually rounded and moreish, Evening Beers need to give you that bang for your buck if you’re only having the one. Anything from Stone for example, such as their Supremely Self-Righteous Ale (8.7%).

Go overseas
Certainly pubs are now very different to ten years ago – even average boozers will have a few imported bottles or (dare we suggest) foreign lagers. The good ones will have a range of US-imports or Belgian sippers. At home of an evening, the wallet’s the limit – time to break out the Westmalle Tripel (9.0%), assuming you’ve got the correct glassware.

Something exceptional
The pub is all about the experience, outgoing, sharing. As Evening Beers are usually drunk alone, and in a more refined setting than somewhere with sticky carpets and strange smells from the toilet – time to break out a collaboration beer, or a limited edition. BrewDog Abstrakt AB:02 for example, a mighty imperial red ale. And at 18%, not one for the weekly darts night at the Red Lion.

Go seasonal
Again, the modern British pub should give you a range of golden ales in the early summer and porters once the clocks go back, but for that one-off wonder at home, get it right. Saisons, Harvest ales, Pumpkin ales – match it to the season and find that bottle opener. Sierra Nevada Estate (6.7%) is king of the harvest ales.

It’s up to you
Having said all that, the prime criteria for an Evening Beer is that it’s whatever you say it is. If you’re at work and looking forward to that one bottle once the kids have gone to bed, it doesn’t really matter what it is. Drink a Dark Island Reserve in summer. Pair a Goose Island Matilda with lukewarm fish fingers and chips. Take a Westvleteren 12 into the shower. You’re the boss, after all…

It may not pour well, but it tasted pretty good…

A couple of weeks ago we had a small BeerCast night out at Hanam’s, one of the very few authentic Kurdish restaurants in Scotland. Having been a couple of times before, I knew it has no licence and is BYOB. However, beer is to be found on the drinks menu – it’s just that all of them are alcohol free, of course. Marketing these kinds of beers can prove to be pretty difficult (aside from highlighting the conscientious angle for designated drivers) – historically low and non-alcohol beers have been either bland, plain nasty, or both. On the menu however were a few I’d never heard of – including the enticing Dark Cheers, with no other description other than it was “Sem Álcool”.

Brewed by Unicer Bebidas in Santarém, Portugal, Dark Cheers (or Cheers Preta in the Portuguese) was the first alcohol-free black beer on the market in that country, having been launched ten years ago. It comes in at ‘not more’ than 0.5%abv, so might not strictly be alcohol-free – but it’s rare enough to see a dark one amidst the Kaliber (which incidentally is 0.05%), and other lager brands that put out a reduced strength namesake (such as Cobra, Bavaria, Becks etc). Whilst I’d not be too bothered to ever sample any of those, the prospect of a dark one intrigued me enough to give it a go.

It’s certainly dark, there’s no denying that. The head retains for an impressive amount of time, as the carbonation levels are quite high. There’s almost no aroma whatsoever from the beer – maybe a slight malty sweetness, but without any real hop levels and no alcohol (aside from the 0.5%), it pretty much just sits there, looking like a cola/porter half and half. Tastewise it’s an improvement, but as you’d expect with so little to back it up, the flavour struggles to make an impression. It’s very sweet, a bit vegetal, and reminds me of a watered-down session porter. It probably lies towards the top-end of the alcohol-free beer spectrum, but that’s not really saying much.

A while ago we started to discuss one of the ‘unmentionable’ aspects of drinking beer – the custom of adding something to alter the taste. Clearly this practice is frowned upon by most beery aficionados – but for certain people or situations it’s increasingly common. The BeerCast concentrates primarily on real ale, American craft beer and the like – but as we also talk about lagers (see our regular Lagerboy feature) we’re not outside the boundaries of experimentation. So, when my father told me of a very peculiar habit in a small part of Yorkshire we had to investigate.

It may be an apocryphal story – or an urban myth – but apparently the Asian taxi drivers of Huddersfield have developed a taste for Guinness and Lucozade. I’m not really sure why, and a search for clues found absolutely nothing to shed light on the claims. Guinness shandy (i.e. with lemonade added) was rumoured to have been invented by the New Zealand rugby team during a tour of the UK, putting a slightly different twist on the usual bitter shandy. That fact came direct from the Guinness website, so it may have some substance to it – even if it sounds unlikely that Jonah Lomu and friends would drink anything diluted.

Of course, there’s only one way to discover what the combination tastes like, and that’s to try it. The wishy-washy nature of the Huddersfield rumour doesn’t help when it comes to purchasing the ingredients – is it canned Guinness or bottled? Original or widgeted? And what flavour of Lucozade to pick? I ended up with the most basic, and therefore readily available varieties – canned stout and original Glucose Lucozade. The next hurdle was the ratios – I started off with about 2/3 Guinness to 1/3 sugary sports drink, before frantically adding more stout to take the taste away.

It really is awful – the sweetness of the Lucozade totally overpowers the stout, which is something I had not expected at all. Looking at the pint glass, the resulting blend is slightly less opaque than unadulterated stout, but not by much. The whole thing tastes like a swizzle stick from a tuck shop Sherbet Dab. Adding a second slug of Guinness doesn’t alter the taste that much – sweet glucose is still the dominant flavour, there’s just a slightly longer dark taste fighting a losing battle. It’s really not nice at all – although if you don’t like the acrid edge to Guinness it might be a good entry level alternative. Good for the taxi drivers of Huddersfield that they’ve found something unique to drink, but they can keep it.

We’ve been considering for a while the idea of recording a podcast involving canned beer rather than bottled – although we’ve not managed one as yet. In late 2007 I was in Japan and picked up four cans of interesting-looking jibiru with a view to recording our first ever canned episode. But it always seemed to slip away and we’d be onto something else more exciting instead – including two bottled Japanese specials (BeerCast 7 and BeerCast 18). So the metalbound foursome remained in the back of my cupboard. Recently though I’ve been wondering what exactly they would taste like being so far out of date. Well, there’s only one way to find out I guess. I doubted any of the other panellists would have been up for this one, so this is a solo blog post rather than a podcast. Thankfully…

1. Suntory MALT’S (5.0%abv) 330ml can
Suntory, Katsura, Kyoto.
Best Before Date: April 2008

Suntory’s Katsura plant in greater Kyoto produce several of their mainstay beers, such as Suntory SUPER HOPS and Suntory MALT’S (sic). Being the largest alcohol producer in the country they must know a thing or two about the stuff. Mind you, according to their website they are also involved in “pharmaceuticals, restaurant operation, sports, music and film, resort development, publishing and information services.”

What They Say – “Made with 100% malt and 100% natural water, and bringing out the full fragrance of the finest quality aroma hops, MALT’S has been received huge acclaim from beer lovers.” [Official Website]

What it’s Like…
It pours very frothily at first but then totally loses the head (not surprisingly). There’s a couple of faint trails of carbonation rising, but it tastes very flat. Colour is slightly cloudy straw, vaguely urine-like quality, and it smells of damp hay that has lain too long in a stable. Tastewise, it’s like drinking a dead pint from a long-abandoned table at closing time. No discernable alcohol, and a long malty aftertaste. Or should that be a long MALT’Y aftertaste?

2. Ginga Kogen Weizen Beer (5.0%abv) 330ml can
Ginga Kogen Brewery, Sawauchi, Iwate Prefecture.
Best Before Date: November 2007

Ginga Kogen started in 1996, and the preparatory members visited the beer producers of Germany before building the brewery, drinking 80 kinds of beer in one week. Iwate apparently has a similar climate to Bavaria too, so you’d expect the odd wheatbeer to feature in their range. They named the brewery after the recurring galaxy themes of local poet Kenji Miyazawa, and are situated near the wonderfully named Oouu Mountains. One for Scrabble fans there.

What They Say – “Enjoy and taste live yeast. Refrigerated and delivered fresh from our brewery on the tablelands. The fruity aroma and rich flavour is original to Ginga Kogen.” [Official Website]

What it’s Like…
If there’s one thing that would be interesting 16 months after expiry date, it would be live yeast – this particular one is an unfiltered hefeweizen. It froths up spectacularly and was almost totally cloudy, I could hardly see my hand behind the glass. Looking like a stagnant pond (although thankfully not green), the small grey clumps of yeast slowly spiralled their way to the bottom through the dark golden suspension. Remarkably, it tastes like a regular wheatbeer – albeit slightly vinegary towards the end. It lingers quite a lot and isn’t that nice – but is that because it’s out of date or because it’s a wheatbeer?

3. Kirin Ichiban Shibori Stout (5.0%abv) 330ml can
Kirin, Yokohama.
Best Before Date: May 2008

Kirin – now owned by Mitsubishi – are another of Japan’s largest brewers. But they were actually founded by a Norwegian, Johan Martinius Thoresen, who opened Yokohama’s Spring Valley Brewery in 1869. Sadly he sold up when his wife died, but the concern was re-opened and by 1888 renamed Kirin after the half-horse half-dragon creature from Chinese mythology. Thoresen died in 1901, and Kirin employees still leave tins of beer at his grave. Despite the name, Ichiban Shibori Stout isn’t a stout – it’s a dark lager they first released in 2007.

What They Say – “Just taste Ichibanshibori Stout. The first wort gives a marvellously deep taste. The aroma of roasted malt and smooth creamy foam enrich your precious time.” [Official Website]

What it’s Like…
Well my time is precious, there’s no doubt about that – otherwise why would I be drinking expired tins of Japanese beer on a cold March night? This one looks like a slightly darker glass of Coca Cola and is impossible to see through. The smell is intriguingly of dark treacle, but the taste is a highly unpleasant burnt metallic coffee with hints of cigarettes. Massive coffee aftertaste. One to avoid, as I get the feeling it was probably like this when fresh from the brew copper.

4. Tokyo Black (5.0%abv) 330ml can
Yo-Ho Brewery, Nagano.
Best Before Date: January 2008

Yo-Ho are based in Karuizawa in Nagano Prefecture, and unlike the behemoths of Suntory and Kirin are one of Japan’s leading microbreweries. They produce a few beers, notably Yona Yona Real Ale – which I tried unsuccessfully to find on cask when I was over there – and their ‘chocolatey porter’, Tokyo Black. If nothing else, it has a fantastic label – a Sumo wrestler staring challengingly up at the moon, hiding behind a big grey cloud. Nagano is the only city in the world to have hosted events at both a summer and winter Olympic games, if you were wondering.

What They Say – “Tokyo Black is the second brand at Yo-Ho. A robust porter, well balanced between the malt and the hops. The complex chocolate and roast flavours of dark specialty malts are combined with a floral and slightly spiciness from Perle hops.” [Official Website]

What it’s Like…
This one looks like a proper porter straight away – with a lovely thick dark cream-coloured head, similar to opening a bottle of old-style Guinness. Not as strong as the Kirin, it has it’s own rather odd porter flavours. There’s an almost smoked cheese taste at first, which thankfully gives way to dark tangy malts and portery backgrounds. This one’s pretty interesting, and given it’s a year out of date, not at all bad.

Look out for a proper canned BeerCast sometime soon. If you’d like to suggest possible entrants – send us an email to thebeercast@googlemail.com…