English Bay Pale Ale (5%) - Granville Island Brewing, Vancouver, Canada

English Bay, Vancouver. A charming part of the city with sea, sandy beaches, shiny skyscrapers and tree-covered, snow-capped mountains all in one view. For an English Bay, it's anything but English.

My girlfriend and I went on many walks there during our trip back in April, and if I could take a piece of it back to Blighty with me in the form of a beer then all the better (wrapping it up snugly for its ten-hour flight home, of course).

 

I grabbed this bottle at Granville Island Brewing itself, not far from English Bay. In a 341ml bottle (a measurement this beer-swilling Brit hadn’t come across before), the label features the brewery’s logo on it with their slogan “It’s good to be here”. I don’t know where they’re referring to, but if it’s anywhere in the general Vancouver area then I can’t help but agree.

The beer poured a darker amber than I’d expected from a pale ale, with shades of copper up against certain light. As the label suggests, the aroma is very much on the malty side of things with sweet caramel and toffee aromas coming through – “West Coast character” as they call it – and hints of treacle and chocolate. Hops provide some fruity berries and earthy characteristics. A decent waft of a very pleasant aroma on the whole and one I was very keen to dive into.

With an aroma that reminded me more of an English bitter, the flavour had some surprises in store. Mild as the label suggests, with caramels and some fruity woodland berries coming through again, but with a tasty nutty undercurrent that lingered on in the aftertaste. The flavours began to emerge nicely as it approached room temperature, but remained modestly mild rather than jumping out at me in typical North American fashion. It's nicely carbonated and smooth, but not full enough in body.

Overall I was pleasantly surprised by English Bay Pale Ale. Granville Island Brewing have come up with something complex, unique and very drinkable, but this beer might leave you with the feeling that its thin body doesn't let you get the most out of its character, compromising on some otherwise very enjoyable flavours.

Appearance 4/5

Aroma 4/5

Flavour 3.5/5

Mouthfeel 2/5

Beer Belly’s rating: 7/10

La Bière du Démon (12%) - Brasserie de Gayant, Nord-Pas-De-Calais region, France

It's been many months since my beer trip to France and Belgium and the assortment I hauled back with me is only just starting to show signs of thinning out. One in particular jumped out at me as the most obvious choice for Hallowe'en, and in a spooktacular display of bucking the trend on my part, it doesn't contain a single trace of pumpkin. Surfing the online beer-o-blog-o-sphere, you'd be forgiven for thinking that pumpkin beer is all you can get your hands on at this time of year, whereas in reality my little corner of England yields nothing of the sort. If they're anything like the pumpkin spiced latte then I'm not missing out, or at least I'll just keep telling myself that. 

In any case, I thought it wouldn't hurt to throw something completely different into the cauldron, and that brings me to this devilish brew: La Bière du Démon, or "the Demon's beer".

My main reason for picking it up was the eye-catching, reflective-golden label, but how could I have ignored a 12% beer conceived by the evil tormentor himself? I assume the disgruntled, bearded man pictured on the front is the demon in question. Either that, or Colonel Sanders made an unexpected career change.

The beer also claims to be 12% of diabolical pleasure, but it soon became clear that the Demon and I don't share all the same tastes.

It pours a crystal clear apple-juice coloured liquid that’s fairly highly carbonated with a lively, white head that fizzles down to a weak frothy patch.

Having no idea what to expect from the Demon's beer, I found the aroma intriguing. A light aroma of subtle, sweet honey along with marzipan, a dose of sour apples and some nail varnish remover wafted up.

My intrigue vanished in a puff of smoke as I took a swig and the 12% ABV began burning away at my mouth, jabbing it with a pitchfork and roaring with laughter in my face.

Sickly sweet malty and honey flavours come through, followed by an extremely bitter, metallic and spirity attack on the back of the tongue, with a glug of washing up liquid for good measure.

Full-bodied and thick in texture, its warmth permeated every inch of its way to my bowel like a cough medicine.

It’s not hard to see why the devil himself would take a shine to this beer. Having given up half way and poured away the other 155ml, I asked myself why this was available in six-packs at the supermarket.

This beer has hardly any merits worth mentioning apart from the novelty factor of 12% alcohol, but nothing that would convince me to try this again. Far from being a “diabolical pleasure”, it's just plain diabolical.

In fact, I don’t think the picture on the front of the bottle is of a grimacing devil at all. It’s the face that you make after you’ve tasted this beer. Now, where can I find me some of that pumpkin stuff?

Appearance 3/5

Aroma 2/5

Flavour 1/5

Mouthfeel 2/5

Beer Belly's Rating: 4/10

Angel Amber Ale (4.3%) - Wylam Brewery, Northumberland, England

On a trip up to the rich, green and wooded landscape of Northumberland, I happened upon a coffee shop in the middle of nowhere that emerged out of obscurity like a mirage. I was relieved to find it because I was in severe need of a coffee, but was even more relieved when a refrigerator presented itself to me within, several different local beers perched atop its shelves. Thankfully, this was no mirage.

Having to choose between them, I went for Angel Amber Ale from Wylam Brewery, partly due to the iconic Angel of the North pictured on the label that the beer itself was brewed to celebrate in 2008. If it had stood the test of time since then, then it had to be worth a try.

Northumberland within England

The beer pours an amber colour as promised on the label, producing a fairly small head that fizzles out.

The combination of four different malts and Cascade hops revealed on the label sounded like they would give way to an interesting mix of sweet, citrusy and herbal characteristics, leaving me not quite knowing what to expect. The aroma turned out to be very pleasant, presenting sweet toffee and chocolate notes from the malts, the hops bringing out very floral and aromatic characteristics with nutmeggy and herbal notes. Sultanas and glazed cherries could be detected in there too, evoking the gorgeous scent of a fruitcake. 

Everything comes at you at once when you take a swig, all the flavours working very well together. Every part of your tongue gets to enjoy the various characteristics in this beer, sweet toffee offset by bitter treacle and fruity woodland berries along with spicy herbal notes, all in all producing something extremely rich and wholesome. The Cascade hops liven it up to no end bringing out all its best characteristics, like a well-seasoned steak.

A long, dry finish leaves you with hints of fruitcake and a nice light black tea flavour that linger on once you've swallowed.

This beer impressed me. An interesting combination of malts an hops has produced something that's quite familiar yet unique, traditional but spiced up. This, as it mentions on the label, is "proper beer". Whyaye man!

Appearance 3/5

Aroma 4.5/5

Flavour 5/5

Mouthfeel 4/5

Beer Belly's rating 8/10

Brewery details

Website: www.wylambrewery.co.uk

Twitter: @wylambrewery

La Goudale (7.2%) - Brasserie de Gayant, Nord-Pas-De-Calais Region, France

I nabbed this beer (along with a trolley-load of others) from a French supermarket on the way to Belgium a few months ago, and after trying a few from this part of the world it's become clear that there's one prevalent style to have emerged from France and that's the farmhouse ale, or "keeping beer". Farmhouse-style being free-style in nature, though, means it's not necessarily predictable as we're about to find out.

La Goudale describes itself on the label as a traditional blonde beer of "high fermentation". What it means by that is that it's brewed in the style of an ale rather than a continental lager (i.e. with top-fermenting yeasts), which brings me to the name of the beer. "Goudale", as it explains on the label, was how the people of 14th century France would describe "good beer". In other words, "goudale" is a corruption of "good ale". And as if looking across the channel towards Blighty for a term to describe decent beer wasn't a big enough compliment, they went one step further to take the English term and make a new word out of it that even we don't have by referring to people who sold the stuff as "goudaliers".

It's a simple yellow-coloured label with the name of the beer printed on it in a kind of calligraphy style font and two small motifs of some hops and barley.

The beer itself is a nice clear, golden-copper colour (not represented in the photographs, I must admit) topped with a smooth, white head with good retention and some superb lacing down the glass once you get round to sipping it down. Bubbling lively from the bottom (of the glass, that is), it almost looks like a slightly darker lager. Since both other French farmhouse ales I've tried have been cloudy with sediment suspended in the glass, I was surprised to see this one pour clear. In this case, they must have decided to filter it.

On the nose it’s very, very gentle. There was something sweet lurking in there with the faintest hint of something herbal, but nothing concrete I could put my finger on. 

In the flavour, though, I wasn't disappointed. The first thing that came to mind once I'd had a sip was that it tasted different from the other ales I'd had from the same style (which isn't that unusual, given that it's a bit of an "anything goes" style, although you normally get similarities across the board).

My second impression came after a few seconds when, out of nowhere, the flavour developed into something else. Starting off fairly nondescript like the aroma, a bit of a malty sweetness going on with a slight herbal influence, you're suddenly faced with a wave of bready malts and honey and some stone fruits, along with some spicy hops and some Belgian-tasting clove flavours too. This then washes down when you swallow, allowing the 7.2% abv to warm your throat on the way down.

This lively wash of flavours makes it hard to pin down exactly what’s going on with the flavour, but what I can be sure of is a total absence of the mustiness I've experienced in other French keeping beers. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing.

After tasting the beer, with a helping hand from the effects of retro-nasal olfaction, you actually get more from the aroma when you go back to it. This time you can pick out more stone fruits, even some apple in there, and the bready aromas are complemented by some more hoppy, spicy and floral ones.

It’s medium-bodied with moderate carbonation, leaving a smooth mouthfeel overall, not leaving the musty dryness that, again, would normally come with a French keeping beer.

In fact, La Goudale seems so clean on every level that I was left to wonder just how "traditional" it was, as it claims to be on the label.

Saying that, it has a few surprises in store with a flavour that waits until it's washing around comfortably in your mouth before showing what it's capable of. And, even at a respectable 7.2%, it remains very drinkable.

Appearance 4/5

Aroma 3/5

Flavour 3/5

Mouthfeel 3.5/5

Beer Belly's rating: 7/10

Brewery details

Website: www.brasseurs-gayant.com  
Twitter: @brasseursgayant

Chimay Brune (7%) - Chimay Brewery, Hainaut Province, Belgium

It was tough work picking out a brew from such a tempting selection of Belgian beers that I hauled back from my recent trip to Belgium, but after 20 minutes of gawping indecisively at various bottles and studying the labels one by one, I finally opted to explore my inner monk with this exciting number.

Chimay Brune as it's called on the bottle (but Chimay Rouge seemingly everywhere else) is a 7% strong Belgian Trappist double from Chimay Brewery in the Hainaut province of Belgium. The brewery itself is located at the Scourmont Abbey where the beer is brewed by monks according to strict Trappist criteria, making it one of only 10 authentic Trappist breweries in the world. These pious souls spend their days happily brewing away, selling beer not for profit but to just about cover their own living expenses, giving the rest away to charity. I'll be honest that I had no idea about this when I shoved this one into my shopping basket, but the moment I discovered that the bottle I held before me was a product of this now rare tradition, my excitement became a lot more uncontainable. I also briefly considered becoming a monk.

In case you're wondering what makes it a double or dubbel, this comes from a traditional labelling system when crosses were used to indicate a particular brew's strength, "XX" (double) coming logically between X (single) and XXX (triple), a tradition that's stuck to this day for some. With this supposedly middle-strength beer coming in at 7%, it's clear those quiet Trappist monks still know how to live it up. 

Chimay Brune comes in a charming little 33ml bottle with “Abbaye de Scourmont” embossed on it. The label is quite simple, showing a golden shield with the Chimay logo sitting under two fleurs-de-lis. It pours a stunning ruby-copper colour almost matching the label and is topped off with a decent sized, creamy off-white head. Of course, with an appreciation for the real deal the monks don't bother themselves with pasteurisation, conditioning the beer naturally in the bottle. As far as appearances go, it’s nothing short of drool-inducingly gorgeous. 

The aroma is slight but immediately distinctive, with sweet, wheaty, fruity, apricot aromas coming out, fairly unique from other Belgian beers and worlds apart from any British beers.

The flavour carries on in a similar vein with sweet and wheaty flavours along with some dried apricots. The addition of earthy and peppery hops cuts through a sweet and malty undercurrent, and carries much more of a punch than expected. The flavours are swirled around by the lively carbonation before settling down to leave you with a gentle, fruity aftertaste that gradually fades with a warming finish. Chimay rushes in there, sweeps you off your feet and then elegantly puts you down again like some kind of holy beery revelation.

For a brew conceived by some modest Trappist monks, Chimay Brune has so much going on not just in the flavour but in the mouthfeel and texture as well. It has a gentle aroma, a flavour that erupts in your mouth before calming down again, and is every bit as sexy to look at as the Notre-Dame de Scourmont herself.

Appearance 5/5

Aroma 4/5

Flavour 4/5

Mouthfeel 4/5

Beer Belly's Rating 8.5/10

Brewery details
Website: http://www.chimay.com
Twitter: @ChimayUSA (don't ask why)

L'Escampette (6%) - Brasserie Forest, Nord-Pas-De-Calais Region, France

As the first review on this blog for a beer to hail from outside the British Isles, it might come as a surprise that rather than opting for somewhere in central Europe or North America, which would seem like the most obvious choices, I've in fact gone for France, a country otherwise known for specialising in the production of alcoholic grape juice.

Picked up in a Carrefour supermarket near Calais on a recent trip across the channel, L'Escampette is an example of the one and only beer style originating in France, known as bière de garde (or "keeping beer"), typical of the region of Nord-Pas-De-Calais and traditionally brewed in farmhouses throughout the dark and cold winter months. This would not only allow consistent and quality results by keeping the beer cool, but also avoid any wild yeasts infiltrating the brews during the summer. These days, these French farmhouse-style ales are brewed all year round and are fairly open to interpretation, in true rustic spirit.

L'Escampette, brewed since 2001 in Monceau St Waast, comes in a charming 33ml bottle in a curvy shape resembling that of roof gables on the buildings in Belgium, which happens to be just down the road from this part of France. It's not clear what the significance of the blue-eyed, blonde haired woman holding the three litre-glasses of beer is, but for the sake of the style let's say she's serving up some sweaty fermiers who have returned from a long day out on the fields.

The beer pours a golden amber colour with a small amount of sediment suspended in the glass owing to the fact that it's unfiltered. A nice foam settles on top, lacing the glass on its way down. 

The aroma is fairly gentle: some stone fruits with tropical hints present a sweet aroma with otherwise earthy and musty undertones. A slightly rotten apple can be detected in there as well.

Things liven up when you take a swig, a strong malty core suddenly coming to the fore with the same sweet fruity and earthy, herbal flavours emerging around it and becoming much more pronounced, with a faint spiciness presenting itself as well. Again, it's got that slightly musty, funky quality to it that's typical of French farmhouse ales.

It's lightly carbonated, full-bodied and dry with a heavy, long-lasting, musty aftertaste. The 6% abv presents itself in the form of a pleasant warming sensation.

L'Escampette is definitely an intriguing one, if only for the style it represents. Complex overall, with contradicting qualities of fruitiness followed by mustiness, it's got bags of rustic character. Despite the musty qualities, though, it's still very quenching, and I imagine it to be a great end to a day out on the fields (not that I'd know what that feels like).

Appearance 4/5

Aroma 3/5

Flavour 3.5/5

Mouthfeel 3.5/5

Beer Belly's Overall Rating: 7/10

Santa's Reserve (5.2%) - Ascot Ales, Surrey, England

You'd be forgiven for thinking that at the time of posting this, on the day of the Spring equinox, this is a late entry for a Christmas ale. But of the many different festive brews I sampled throughout the Christmas period (and I stocked up so well that I haven't even got through them all yet) this was one of the more unique ones I tried that was given to me as a well-received gift, and as a seasonal beer not everyone's heard of I thought I'd share it with you.

A little known fact about Santa is that when he isn't busy in his workshop he loves nothing more than to indulge in a bit of homebrewing, and so he's pictured on the bottle of Santa's Reserve kicking back with one of his ales as he relaxes by the fire. The same beer is served from a cask in local pubs under the name of Winter Reserve.

It pours a dark, murky mahogany colour with an enormous and lively cappuccino coloured head that settles into a puffy, snowy cushion. You'll also notice some sediment at the bottom of the bottle, an extra pinch of yeast that produces a natural effervescence and keeps the brew alive from Santa's cask all the way to your mouth. This traditional method is a good indicator that you're drinking something of quality, that a small team of elves have put their blood, sweat and tears into.

Surrey within England

On the nose you get all the things you want from a Christmas ale: chocolatey, fruity and spicy aromas, all smelling natural and not artificial. With a touch of ginger and cinnamon in there, the spicy aromas are the most dominant.

The sweet chocolate malts come through more noticeably in the taste, but spicy, bitter hops prevail, with peppery and herbal flavours leaving a dry finish on the pallet. The full body leaves you with a nice, Christmassy warming sensation.  

While you might expect richer, chocolatier and fruitier flavours from a Christmas ale, Ascot Ales seem to have focused on bringing out the festive spices instead, producing a beer that's probably more bitter and hoppy than you might expect. Whether it's to your taste or not, though, you know you're drinking something of quality, brewed in small batches and handcrafted (with the help of a few elves).

Beer Belly's Rating:

Appearance 5/5

Aroma 3/5

Flavour 3/5

Mouthfeel 4/5

Summary 7.5/10

English B Bock (6%) - Batemans Brewery, Lincolnshire, England

On my perusal of the beer aisles in a Sainsbury's one evening I noticed a label I hadn't seen in any other supermarkets. That's because English B Bock, from Batemans Brewery in Wainfleet, Lincolnshire was the winner of the Sainsbury's 2013 Beer Challenge and is therefore exclusively available there. It's the second year in a row that a Batemans beer has won a place in all of Sainsbury's stores, and that's all the persuasion I needed to take one home with me. 

Lincolnshire within England

The label is eye-catching if only for its in-your-face simplicity, depicting a hostile-looking billygoat on a bright red background. If you're wondering what the goat has to do with anything, don't worry, it has nothing to do with the ingredients, but the name. "Bock" is the name given to a particular German beer style which originated in a northern German town called Einbeck, but when Bavarians in the south started brewing it and talking about it in their native Bavarian accents, they would pronounce it Oanbock, giving rise to the name of the beer style "bock", which already happened to be the German word for "goat". So for those purely accidental linguistic reasons you'll more often than not see a picture of a goat on a bottle of bock as a charming visual joke. Who said the Germans didn't have a sense of humour? As for what the first "B" stands for, that's anyone's guess. "Batemans"? "Belligerent goat"?

The description "Bavarian style strong ale" might raise an eyebrow or two among anyone who's spent any time in the area as, if you were sober enough to remember, lager is the refreshment of choice in that part of the world. Still, this is an English twist on the German-inspired theme and Batemans Brewery have done a heck of a job. 

The beer pours a wonderful deep mahogany, although the head was feeble next to the powerful froth typical of the style it's emulating, but as soon as it's left the bottle it's already as pleasant to the nose as it is the eyes. With toffee, rum and raisin and some floral and peppery notes, you can tell it's going to be rich.

Well, it's not just rich, it's extreme. Jam-packed full of six different malts, that billygoat smacks you over the tongue with the malts and tramples them right in. Toffee, licorice, tobacco, wheat, raisins and sultanas all come through, and an alcoholic flavour is present in that it almost tastes as if it's been aged in a whisky barrel. The Bavarian Hallertau hops add some peppery and floral flavours, and there are some punchy sour notes in there too.

The texture is full-bodied with a heavy layer of malts coating the tongue and lingering on and on, and a nice warming sensation comes from the 6% ABV (which, by the way, although strong by UK standards is weak compared with German bocks which range from 6-12%).

It's clear the aim wasn't to replicate the bock style but to pay tribute to it in an English way, and this rich and complex yet very drinkable and quenching beer is a fantastic achievement. Batemans suggest a food pairing of pork pies on the back of the bottle, and I can wholeheartedly agree that would be a damn fine accompaniment. 

Beer Belly's rating:

Appearance 4/5

Aroma 5/5

Flavour 5/5

Mouthfeel 5/5

Total 9.5/10