On an uncharacteristically sunny late winter afternoon in Lugo I was walking a route I take regularly when I noticed that a retail outlet which I'd passed countless times before had its doors open. Highly unassuming from the outside (lacking so much as a sign) my curiosity had led me to peer through its windows on previous occasions, and I was thrilled to see that in amongst a varied selection of wine bottles, there was shelf space devoted to a number of unique-looking beers. It was just a question of accessing them.
Now presented with an open door to a pre- or post-siesta bottle shop, I seized the moment and scampered in with haste. My excitement was soon marred by the discovery that a good number of the beers were out of date, a fact the shopkeeper was keen to highlight and dismiss in the same breath. Eager not to part with 2,50€ for a brew that should have been ingested at least two months before, I inspected my way to an unexpired brew from the Galician town of Ourense and purchased it speedily before leaving.
Now presented with an open door to a pre- or post-siesta bottle shop, I seized the moment and scampered in with haste. My excitement was soon marred by the discovery that a good number of the beers were out of date, a fact the shopkeeper was keen to highlight and dismiss in the same breath. Eager not to part with 2,50€ for a brew that should have been ingested at least two months before, I inspected my way to an unexpired brew from the Galician town of Ourense and purchased it speedily before leaving.
The label is an eye-catching one, the horned, muscular, skull-faced, red-irised individual holding an electric guitar above his head surrounded by flames making for an interesting choice of design, and fuelling my anxiety to find out what an Ourensano interpretation of a modern-day IPA would resemble. My experience began on a positive note as the brew poured a gorgeous amber colour, cloudy in my case as I let the sediment slide its way in to enjoy the party. A tremendous fluffy head gradually took shape, one which left some spectacular lacing down the glass.
The aroma immediately provided the familiar old scents of juicy, tropical pine, awakening memories of my former IPA-guzzling days which would occur routinely in my UK abode. From the whiff alone, it certainly seemed to be an IPA as I knew it.
Diving in for a slurp I was equally pleased: a sharp citrus bitterness swooped in to cut through the juicy tropical pine resin, with added herbal, peppery hints. The slight spicy sensation of the peppery notes coupled with an alcoholic warmth might have inspired the name, although I wouldn't describe it as burning alive; it's a pleasant and probably far more enjoyable sensation.
The mouthfeel is a tad gassy for my liking, creating a light and airy quality that compromises the body. Saying that, the prickle which the carbonation imposes on the tongue coupled with the bitter, spicy hop flavours do prove to work well with the image of the evil tormenter on the label, and impart a character as rocky and rugged as the Galician coast itself.
Appearance 5/5
Aroma 4/5
Flavour 4/5
Mouthfeel 3/5
Overall 8/10
