Page 24 Bière de Noël (6.9%) - Brasserie St. Germain, Nord-Pas-de Calais region, France

A few weeks into the New Year and still a few Christmas brews left, I'm faced with the choice of ploughing through them before the winter months are up or putting them aside for next year. Of course, I opt for the former.

Page 24 Bière de Noël pours a dark chestnut colour with bubbles rising lazily to a surface topped with a modest off-white head.

My first aromatic experience was an alarming but undeniable whiff of soy sauce through the bottle neck. Double-taking to make sure I hadn't picked up the wrong bottle and going in for more, I was delightfully confused to be getting more of the same.

The aromas are more complex once swished around the glass, sweet toffee and rich treacle dominating with notes of dark forest fruits. Although not as pungent the soy sauce remains present, but this time accompanied by tart apples and spirity, alcoholic notes that were slightly overbearing even for 6.9% ABV.

Not feeling optimistic at this point, I go in for the kill. I'm happy to get more dark forest fruits with bags of chocolate and caramel malt, this time with a lingering and persistent butterscotch after taste, which might be enjoyable if I could be certain it was supposed to be there and not the unintended consequence of diacetyl.

The texture is smooth with the addition of a slight malty graininess, developing into a sticky, cloying warmth.

With plenty going on to pique my curiosity from start to finish, I left this beer with the overall impression that its many characteristics don't necessarily complement each other and frankly, aren't that enjoyable.

Its full-bodied richness, intensity and warmth are good qualities to have in a Christmas beer, but however chaleureuse it might be, whether it's conviviale I'm not so sure.

Appearance 3/5

Aroma 2/5

Flavour 2/5

Mouthfeel 3/5

Summary 5/10

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

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

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