Youth and Sir Thomas Brewing Company's Hangklip IPA

Drinking in the Future's Shadow

What better way to honour the youth than by sitting in the sun drinking a beer? Sure, it's not what the holiday is about and we ought not forget past sacrifices. Yet, if freedom from oppression doesn't include casual drinking with a diverse crowd in a northern suburban park, then we still have a long way to go. Besides, really, what do the young like better than beer? That's right, nothing. And while young'uns might not all line up behind Sir Thomas Brewing's Hangklip's IPA, there's going to be some who do. Those are the ones to watch; they're going places. As I drank it surrounded by tykes and food trucks at Parkview's food truck festival in George Hay Park, I toasted their prospects and quietly celebrated the future generations. 

Let's be honest, this is an IPA for the people; a journeyman for the jol. It is unlikely to please snobbish connoisseurs and even modest critics will easily recognise its failure to crest the pinnacle of taste and balance. (We followed the Hangklip with a smuggled Rogue 7 Hop IPA, a masterly brew bursting with botanical bounty.) That said, it was a solid entry offering little to offend and plenty to please. The nose was generally hoppy although missing many of the flowery scents found in its more sophisticated cousins. Bitterness dominated on the tongue with no distinguishable citrus, pine or resin flavours despite the strong hop presence. One reviewer found dates and grapefruit in there, but we couldn't. If there was something resembling dates it came from the malt which offered more general sweetness than specific flavours. What somehow managed to punch through were hints of a Belgian-like yeast, a taste unexpected for a South African IPA but not unpleasant (Belgian inspired IPAs have established a niche elsewhere). The cloudiness could also help it make a play with the Walloons although the slightly harsh over-carbonation – possibly a result of drinking this at Jozi altitudes – might see it side-lined. At only five percent alcohol, it is a beer for the everyday and the everyman (and woman). Some might dismiss it as milquetoast but such an approach may well help win over generation next. 

Cloudy with a Chance of Tasty

I found this beer at Norman Goodfellows in Illovo for about thirty odd. If you hit the shop you'll see it has one of the best selections of bottled South African beers in the country (and the only place I've seen Hangklip). Many of those on offer will similarly dent your wallet and look just as pretty on your shelf. Ultimately the selling point should be taste. Although Hangklip may not be everyone's favourite, it's a solid offering that adds depth to the mzansi IPA stable. In honour of our youth, past and present, it's certainly worth a turn. Sir, yes sir.

Devil's Peak Revisited: IPAs Standing Tall

Filled to the brim with Cape Townians

It's not my way to revisit old haunting grounds, but as my last visit to Devil's Peak's Salt River taproom was curtailed by a private party, it seemed just the place to start a beery Cape Town weekend. As much as Jozi may rightfully claim its place as the country's economic engine, there's no place as good as the Western Cape to sample South Africa's burgeoning beer scene. 

Once again the place was packed as one might expect on a Friday evening. Turns out it was end of term for the nearby Universities and a running club decided there could be no better place for post-run hydration. I couldn't agree more. That this place officially serves the best beer in South Africa only boosts the busy.

Looking at the menu, I was drawn to two tap-only offerings. The first was a blaster - the black IPA. Given my almost idolotrous love for their 'regular' King's Blockhouse, I knew this one was going to be full of flavour (and to be fair, I had tasted it in December, but in a rush). Described in the menu as dark, hoppy and rich but crisp, it certainly didn't disappoint. My benchmark here is Firestone Walker's Wookey Jack, one of my all time stars. But since I hadn't had that one in months, a direct comparison wasn't possible. Still, there's little doubt the Cape Townian could hold its own. Lighter in alcohol than the Wookey and with the double IPA maltiness, the crisp flavour stood tall alongside the dark roasted malt which lent it the almost charred bitterness of a nice porter. Despite the intensity, it retained a light mouthfeel even if the glass remains dark when held up to the bright kitchen lights. The hops are a bit flatter than the King's Blockhouse without the citrus buzz, but the beer was still swimming with the precious flowers. When we asked which ones, 'European hops' is all the barman could or would reveal.

TheIPAs stand tall

Speaking of Europeans and barmen, apart from those working the taps, this was by far the darkest thing in the place. I'm sure there are those comforted by these last enclaves. It seems if you want entry here you need an electronic cigarette, a beard (if you're a dude), part of your head shaved (men and women) or vanilla dreads. That the bleached blond next to me spoke with the one white bartender of the, "little Indian man" who had served them earlier made me glad to live in Jozi.

A hunk of beer battered deliciousness

The second round was meant to go to the rye saison, described on the menu as medium to strong fruity/spicy. Alas, its tap had run dry so I was 'forced' into tasting their Imperial IPA, something that's not (yet?) bottled and had escaped me until now. Almost the same colour as the Blockhouse, there was a slighter fainter citrus nose with more of the resinous tones wafting into the nose. Thicker on the tongue and rich down the throat the maltiness was well balanced. This is something like a hot rod version of the regular IPA: slightly less delicate but nonetheless controlled and bursting with vooma. Delicious and well suited to warm one's cockles during the forthcoming Cape Town winter.

Although I came for the beer, it's worth noting the food wasn't too shabby. Sure, this is not where you go to sample Cape Town's finest cuisine, but for it's simple menu, they do the dishes right. Saison battered fish with chops and a flavour rich broccoli and goat cheese salad.The neighbour's pizza made me hope he'd look the other way so I could grab a slice.

About half way through the evening, one of Cape Town's hapless youth sidled up to bar asking the bartender for a Castle draught and Coke Zero. Asked to repeat himself, he confirmed what he was after. Taken aback and almost speechless, the bar tender stumbled over his words as he looked in exasperation for an empathetic eye. Rolling his, he informed the young man that the Castle was fresh out, but perhaps he could be happy with the beers made on site. Chastened he left with a First Light and Coke Light. Not sure which was for the lady.  

Only down side of the evening was at some point the place ran out of pint glasses and couldn't serve. Either lots of Cape Townians are filling their cupboards with these vessels or someone forgot to do their washing.

Jozi Craft Beer Fest 2014

Walked through jam packed parking lot to make it to the 2014 Jozi Craft beer Fest. Credit to the good people at League of Beers for organising the mechanical bull and

ride'm cowboy

ping pong tables. True Jozi style? Don't know much about the city's cowboy heritage but all can be forgiven when bathed in that gorgeous autumn sun with just enough high  clouds to keep us from roasting.

Speaking of roasting, there was food too. The vittles will be largely familiar to regular Johannesburg market goers: mustachioed Balkan Burger, overpriced pulled pork tacos absent any Mexican zest, undercooked paella seasoned with what tasted like aromat, and slightly spendy but solid fire roasted pizza. In true Mzansi style, there wasn't much for the vegetarians among us. For the few still eating dairy, the homemade ice cream looked good but we weren't in the mood for a float. Rather, it was the beers calling.

Swimming in Aromat

And there were beers.  Almost all the well knowns and a few local start-ups made the cut filling almost 30 tents with bottles and kegs.  Among them were a couple of distillers and one anachronistic (yet delicious) Scottish brewing company. For the most part, the staff were friendly, knowledgeable and proud of their pours. Yet there were a few baffling exceptions where the local ambassadors knew almost nothing of what they're serving. Telling you that a beer is popular is not quite up to snuff. But let me not judge -- at a place like this there is always another tap waiting for attention.

The first beer catching our eye was a Haarties local that had somehow escaped my lips for too long. From their good variety, we plopped our tokens down for Chameleon Brewhouse's American pale ale. Made with amarillo and cascade hops - words that sound so sweet with a heavy Afrikaans accent -- its captivating fragrance reassured us that it wasn't brewed with water from the nearby dam. The dark brown beer was capped with a good frothy head that stuck around until the very end. On the tongue it was smooth and fruitily hoppy - as one would expect from those hops - with a touch of sourness on the finish but nothing to erase the round balance at the beer's center. I half expected a hint of mampoer but certainly wasn't disappointed with what I got. Turned out to be one of the day's surprises.

Haarties hits Jozi

Next up was Aces Brew Worx (sic) IPA. I've tasted their middle of the road lager before and can't say I've been much impressed. This is the first time seeing any other offerings most which were brewed especially for the festival on contract by an ex-Bavarian beermaker at Swagger brewery in Alberton. These trial balloons included a blond, a red, a pale ale, and an IPA. Not surprisingly we went Indian. At only 4.5% ABV - a good 2-3 points below what it should be - I was skeptical. They said it was made with cascade hops but since it was sub-contracted they couldn't be sure. In the sun the beer looked like a dark rooibos tea with a corporate looking head of big bubbles. The smell was fresh but faint and a bit lagerish. Things didn't improve much past the lips where there was almost no hop profile and the malt presented no sweetness or warmth. That wasn't so bad, but the chlorine finish was made less pleasant with evocations of President Zuma's fire pool. If this was a test, it passed like a Limpopo maths student. (To be fair we shared it with a couple others who proclaimed it creamy and delish, so to each his own. But I won't budge on something: that ain't no IPA). 

Wondering why the chameleon's not turning blue

After that disappointment, we took a break from beer to try out Drayman's single malt whiskey. I'm always pleased to see South Africa trying it's hand beyond brandy and as a whiskey drinker, what choice did I have but to give it a go? Their festival neighbours, Jorgensen's Distillery, have already established a fine reputation even if it's not nearly as tastily innovative as Inverroche (who were nowhere to be seen). Jorgies was showing off a 500 rand bottle of absinthe which I didn't have the courage (or the cash) to try so I stuck with Drayman's. While their Emporer IPA fell short earlier in the year, this was a perfectly drinkable whiskey that could rival an entry level Scotch. That they served the single malt with ice with nary a thought did make me wonder what they were hiding. That it was R400 made me think maybe they were hiding just how overpriced it was. At 200 I'd go local and buy, but not at twice the price.

Three's Company

Back to the beer and Standeaven Brewery's Three Hop IPA. I haven't been particularly chuffed by their wide variety of widely available offerings but the hoppy promise drew me to this one. The eponymous trinity included an experimental offering from Charles Glass mixed with the country's homegrown Southern Promise and Southern Passion. Shaun Standeaven took a break from pouring to explain that they made this festival special specifically to highlight the oft overlooked -- and somewhat maligned -- local hop offerings. Although it's not available anywhere else just yet, I hope it will be. It poured out with creamy head comprised of ultra fine bubbles. While it's cloudiness made it look like a slightly coppery wheat beer, its nose had enough floral hop aroma and light citrus lilt to claim its place as an IPA.  The fruitiness was there too as you drank although it faded as the glass emptied. So while it doesn't bang you with IBUs, it has a flavour that is comfortably distinctive. Sure, it is a bit watery without an alcohol punch, but it's balanced nonetheless. By far the best foot they've put forward. Maybe a new category: African IPA or, better yet, session IPA? I could certainly drink a few. And big props to Shaun and his fam for sticking South and highlighting what Mzansi has to offer. 

Back to Jozi with Smack Republic and their Braamfontein Brawler IPA. Unlike Standeavan, these guys went all-American with imported cascade and amarillo hops. Having been on sale for a year - almost always on draft - it apparently isn't keeping pace with their golden ale and honey rooibos. Still, the brewers claim it sells and they're going to keep it flowing. At 4.1 percent it's also low on the alcohol, a persistent problem with the local IPAs. What it lacked in punch it made up for with its rich red copper color and a finely laced head. While their saison is seasoned with spicy black pepper, this one smelled sour. Alas, it tasted sour too. There's hops and malt but they were lost behind a kind of tamarind forwardness that might help explain why this isn't a best seller. I'd tasted it before at their brewery in in Maboneng and had fonder memories. From here on out, I'll stick with their Maboneng Maverick complete with rooibos and honey. No sourness there. 

Brewhog's Apiwe Nxusani, free (from SAB) at last

Mark's Park Massive

As things for us were winding down, we passed by the Brewhog's barrel and got to wondering what they were about. Turns out it's a new brewery in Kyalami with an SAB refugee making a premium pilsner and an original red lager. Still small and not yet bottling, they sell largely through the Hogshead restaurants and pubs. Although not normally inclined to lagers, I felt compelled to give them a go.  As it turns out, the red was tasty if mainly malty, as reds are wont to be. Served very cold and lightly carbonated it had a blockier, more corporate taste than anything else I had, but with an underlying freshness. Finished solid with a touch of sweetness from the malt. Maybe not my cup of tea but an undeniably nice beer and a giant step for womankind. 

With our final tokens we revisited an old friend: the King's Block House IPA from Devil's Peak. I've reviewed the beer elsewhere and have no reason to redact any of my praise. That this nectar won South African beer of the year is no surprise given that it already clinched top spot in Mzansi Beer's IPA smack-down. That we got a full glass for half the price was a pleasant one. That they may open a brewhouse in Jozi by the end of 2014 is enough to make the heart sing. The rest of you better bring your A game.

Welcome to paradise

A big hand to the folks at League of Beers and Jozi beer fest for pulling this together. Whoever you are, you know how to throw a party.

Cockpit in Cullinan: Mustang meets Spitfire

One of the local pioneers of the local craft beer movement, I was drawn to Cockpit's the Mustang American Pale when it won the best of beer prize a few years back. At that point, I was convinced that Andre, the brewer, was making one of the best beers in the country.  Clearly others agreed. 

And while he imports his hops (and it shows), he doesn't do much to distribute his beer. If you want his stuff, you you've got to make the trip. And that's exactly what we did.

We pulled in to the reinvented mining town of Cullinan after almost running over a few billy goats and street hawkers on the journey through Mamelodi. Set in a strip of old mine managers' houses, the  The Cockpit Brewhouse was but one in a strip of sunny, rambling gardens filled with folks enjoying a warm autumn afternoon. So while her majesty, the Queen of England may have ended up with the town's most famous product, Spanakopita, eisbein, mystical Himalayan salt and crystals, or kitsch jewelery are on offer for us commoners. Meandering down the the street could hear live music from the Cockpit.  Knowing that classic rock and beer always gel, we hurried down the road and grabbed the last free picnic table outside. Once the band took a break, it became a relaxed local feel with a smattering of yanks and uitlanders like us.

After being greeted by the friendly staff, we ordered up the Mustang American Pale and the Spitfire

English Ale. The menu claims the latter to be a 'true session' beer while the Mustang was described as a showcase for tropical and citrus fruit. Only taste will tell.

When it arrived, the Spitfire looked right: lightly carbonated with small, fine bubbles making a pancake of a head. In the glass it was slightly cloudy with a rich, red tinged coppery colour. It proved light on the nose with hints of sourness. By the time it got on the tongue, that sourness blossomed into a sourdough like taste. Having spent my fair share of time in blighty's pubs, this is not quite what I expected as the English bitters tends towards light and fruity if anything. Still, on its own terms it was not unpleasant to be sure and boasts considerably more flavour than many a limey pint. The Kenyan pondered that it might be nice at the end of a long run to rehydrate and re-energise: a kind of alcoholic gatorade. We also agreed it would probably do well with bar food. Since we weren't likely to go jogging off into the veld any time soon, we opened up the meat-heavy bar menu. As it turns out, it did indeed go nicely with our fish & chips and the pulled pork special. So, while not a remarkable offerring, it is indeed a solid one.

Pulled Pig

Yeehaw, I said, let's tame that Mustang. This American champ came in a tall hourglass glass, considerably headier than its British counterpart. Despite this, it showed up only fine bubbles and was far more lightly carbonated than many yankee brews. It also looked like it had spent a bit more time in the sun and had become cloudier and more browned than the Spitfire: a golden caramel up and down. The smell was generally beery with faint citrus that was overwhelmed by the smoker at the next table. In the mouth the hops jump forward in their citrusy fullness. Malt counters for a nice combination of tastes. Still, it felt somehow feels pushed together - almost like a malty beer blended with a hoppy one in ways that don't yet completely fit. Tastes with food we lost a bit of the hoppiness and tasted more caramel sweetness. There was no doubt I would pick this over the spitfire to be sure but no long certain I would drive the hour to come get it when there's beer springing up in town. As an outing, it's more than worth the drive although one has to be sure of making it home safe. And at 30 rand a pint, this has to be one of the better craft beer values around.

The British Spitfire and its more mighty American cousin

Copperlake Jozi Pale Ale

The Radium Beer Hall is one of the best places to grab a drink in Joburg. Although not in the most stylish part of town, you simply can't beat the vibe at rush hour with traffic honking its way down Louis Botha en route to Alex and beyond. The owners claim it's the second oldest bar in town and it looks like some of the regulars have been there since opening day.  But the natives are friendly and

Always Beer O'clock

it is one of the few places you'll find such diversity of people -- colour, class, and even a smattering of single professional women (not the 'working girl' variety) -- lounging together. The food is predictable and priced right and the beer selection has become increasingly varied. As long as I can remember, they've had Hansa, Black Label, Castle and Kilkenny on top. Back in the dark-days of local brewing, I was grateful for even this smattering. Some time back they installed a Mitchell's tap which made the drive to Orange Grove worth the effort. They've now traded that it for two locally made specialities. The Ace's Lager will have to wait for another time. Even if they have cool glasses, I'll almost always take an ale first. And that's just what I did.

To be fair, when I started out, I wasn't entirely sure what I was drinking. The friendly bar tender served this up as Ace's Pale Ale. Although it came spilling over the top of a Guinness glass, the guy next to me was drinking his out of an Ace's pint glass so I soldiered on in my ignorance. As I walked out I double checked the tap and realised he was mistaken. The barman didn't have much else to add about the beer other than its popular, they often sell out, and he didn't quite understand why people would want to drink it.  

Truth be told, after having made it through the pint, I was also not fully convinced why anyone would want to drink it. Sure, there are worse beers out there, plenty of them, but if there's a choice, this would probably not be mine. The beer arrived (incognito) looking good: it was dark bronzy gold with a head of fairly large bubbles capping the thing with all the pride of an EFF beret. Not to impugn the EFF lest they try to nationalise mzansi beer for the good of the people, but what was under this beery beret had about as much credentials as the party's commander in chief. Up close and personal, the

smell was fairly rich and beery with some strong earthy notes, but otherwise without much to draw you in. It could probably pass in a blind taste test as a strong lager.

Copperlake atop the Famous Ferreirastown Bar

On the tongue?  To its credit, the beer has taste. It's just not the kind of taste I was looking for. Rather, it offered a sourness that lingered on the middle of the mouth for too long after the beer itself went down my gullet. There was an almost a tamarind-like tang but without the balance that makes Asian food sing. I thought that perhaps the tap had been open too long or it was otherwise skunked but the beer man assured me it was freshly tapped and fresh from the distributor.  But then again, what does he know?  

So, just as we're all excited to see new players on the political agenda, we should applaud Copperlake's appearance on the Radium's roster. Showing up gets you a look and taste, but if you want to stick around, you're going to have to offer more than the right look and a fancy hat. If someone bought me another round of this one, I'd probably drink it. If I'm paying for myself, I'd pick the Hansa.

Once you go black? Three-way stout family taste off

It’s not a normal weeknight when a motley group gathers to taste 13 beers from the extended stout family. But on a late February evening, we did just that. Building on last year’s successful three way IPA throw down, Mzansi Beer assembled a diverse group of aficionados, visitors and newbies to sample some diverse offerings from the British Isles, the United States and, of course, the Republic of South Africa. The comments below reflect what this merry band – a lawyer, an Irish playwright/journalist, a public health specialist, a human rights campaigner, and an assortment of others – had to say. Special thanks goes to Alaska-native Mark Gross for smuggling in the Americans and sourcing the others in and around Joburg.  

Standing Stout: Bravely Facing Their Destiny

Following form from the last taste-off, each beer was organised into a cluster before getting wrapped in paper and assigned a number. The first was the mega-producers: SAB, Guinness, Youngs and Marston. Figuring that this would set a general standard for the night before we moved on. The next group we termed the ‘S-Class,’ or standard, straight up stouts, a category including the highest proportion of South African micros. After a scheduled dinner break of pizza and prawns–the latter bought fresh the day before from Cyrildene–we broke ranks with a group of ‘outliers’  including porters and other stout brothers or cousins. This being the new South Africa and all, we didn’t feel it right to exclude just because they didn't pass a stout purity test. Our pudding was a couple of American imperials.

Things started a bit slower than expected. Mark, Helen and Tor (who until that night hadn't known beer was made with barley) arrived first. No sooner were they in the door than Helen was on the phone busting a colleague from a holding cell at OR Tambo International. While that drama unfolded, Colin the itinerant playwright walked in newly relieved of his phone, SatNav, and a fistful of Rand.  Mark, who spends his days researching township crime and vigilantism, lost interest in the story when he heard it happened downtown, but the rest of us pressed him for details while Helen lit up the switchboard assaulting an ever intransigent Department of Home Affairs. Remarkably, she ultimately prevailed and the dude was released. Colin, on the other hand, ran back to Dublin with only his story to tell.

After finally settling down, we confronted the momentous task ahead: thirteen beers on a weeknight and it was already well past eight. Not to be dissuaded, we forged ahead. Alas, in this smack-down, South Africa was flattened.  As you’ll read below, there were no Mzansi standouts although South Africa’s champions were by no means the worst on offer. Is this surprising? Thick heavy beers in the tropical sun? For a drinking public accustomed to light lagers? That said, there’s nothing as satisfying like a hearty beer on a cold evening. For those without under floor heating, there are a couple of locals worth drinking. However, if you want the real deal, you’re still better off going with the exotics .

Round One: the Macros

Castle Milk Stout (RSA): We unwittingly started the evening off with this true South African stalwart. Hero to the working man, we found the distinctive, lactose aided stout had a relatively flat flavour. As one might expect, we found it slightly sweet, but with a bit of not altogether pleasant sourness at the end.  With its light carbonation, someone at the table described it as slightly thin (although you wouldn’t be if you drank too many of these).  Others identified an almost metallic scent on the nose. This evolved into the taste of burnt or stale coffee after a few swigs.  Although we all agreed it was a pretty standard stout, no one was dying for a refill. Nonetheless, it came in a respectable second (of four) in the macro-category.

Second on the agenda was the global standard bearer: Guinness (Ireland/RSA?). This one, brewed in Cape Town S.A., went unrecognised by our Irish guest, although he admitted he hadn’t drank his native son in years. The rest of us found it slightly more carbonated than the Castle with a little bit of creaminess countered by a higher level of carbonation. The first reactions related to being ‘fruity up front.” That quickly faded with the fruit giving way to what one might sprouting find beneath the trees. “Yes, I’ll take fungal,” shouted the Alaskan. Indeed, there was something musty and, well, fungal in the taste albeit not in an unpleasant way. With its heightened bitterness and fruit-fungal flavours, we agreed it had more character and was just that more, ‘stouty.’ After the big reveal, we were surprised to find it was a Guinness, and a little surprised that the Irish flagship is quite so popular.

Young’s Double Chocolate (UK): The beer poured almost jet black in the glass with a thin, creamy head – like you might find on a nicely shot espresso. Given the name, it should come as little surprise that the taste was sweet and chocolately, a bit like one of those chocolate pinotages in vogue these days. After we started thinking wine, someone mentioned tastes of black cherry. Fruit, yes. But the sweetness was countered by a pleasant bitterness on the back side which lets you know there’s some hops in there. Although it wasn’t on the after-dinner menu, it could easily pass as a beer to go with pudding. Or, better yet, as desert all its own. And like most deserts, this one would be good to share – its richness might be overbearing for a singleton. Although it was thinly textured and had poor lacing, we liked the carbonation, we enjoyed the lingering chocolate taste in our mouth and elected it our clear category winner.

Marston’s Oyster Stout (UK) drew last on this dance card in more ways than one. It poured out with the strongest head of the groups with a slightly red tint in the beer. A bit of chocolate on the nose, but far fainter than the one before.  Beneath that chocolate was a bit of barley scent, a hint of grape nuts past. Once it was in the mouth, it came across as almost watery on the tongue. The light chocolate tasted complemented with a bit of nothing: almost like a ‘stout lite’, diet beer, or watered down cola.  In the end, we agreed it looked like stout, poured like a stout but sure didn’t taste like a stout.  While it might pass as a kind of black IPA, it lacks the flavour profile. The clear loser.

Mzansi vs. Wilford Brimley

Round Two: S-Class (Standard Stouts)

Having downed the big boys, we moved to the group including the highest proportion of South African competitors.  It's also worth noting that the Notties draught snuck into this category due to a clerical error.  That said, it wouldn't have managed any better amidst the outliers where it belonged. Despite our best efforts to stack the deck, the one alien in the group managed to claim to the crown. Read why:

Mitchell's Raven Stout (RSA): Brewed in Knysna by one of South Africa’s best-established craft brewers, this one poured out with a fruity, almost herbal and flowery scent that percolated through a big, foamy head. On the tongue the first thing we noticed was the carbonation behind that head.  Given the big smell, we were all a little surprised by just how thin the beer was on the tongue. Still, we found the fruit and an almost black currant taste: berry but with a bitter kick. Tasty, but also just a bit too watery with the pleasant berryness eventually faded to something pretty dry leaving you with a final, almost sour or overly bitter taste. The beer was fine, but no one would go out of their way to drink the thing. Sure, it had more complex and nuanced flavours than the mass action, but not yet did we find satisfaction.  Despite its thrown togetherness, it came in second of the four.

Nottingham Road Brewing Pickled Pig Porter (RSA)  came up next from the crowded coolerbox. The only beer of the night to pour from a can, it showed up with an extremely creamy head and firm bubbles. Someone smelled roses in the glass. Another less generously scented toothpaste. I first thought the thing hinted at anti-septic but was then convinced to switch my assessment to ‘metal’.  Someone added that it was more of a bubble-gum or cough syrup. Before long we were divided. One side of the table couldn’t finish their glasses while Tor, the Brooklynite, was so into it the florally toothpasty taste he filled his glass with the others’ leavings. He later admitted growing up on malt liquor. Looking on with disgust, the Irishman elegantly described the aftertaste as beer poured through an ashtray. If you’re after a 4 AM nightclub kind of beer, fill your glass. The rest of us (apart from Tor) thought this was by far the worst of the crowd.

Darkhorse One Oatmeal Stout (USA): Back out of the bottle, this one poured with almost no head but released some find bubbles when swirled. Caramel, chocolate and roasted malt with a bit of dark fruit and coffee. Generally had a good mouth feel – no wateriness like the others. Instead it was creamy and consistent.  This, we thought, is what Guinness was supposed to taste and feel like. South African Stephen didn’t jive with the bitterness and burnt taste so much, but still thought it better than the previous two. Overall, consensus was this was this was what a stout should taste like. A clear winner for the Americans. They may not have won much in Sochi, but this is theirs. When it came to choosing our overall winner for the night, this was right up there.  If Mark wasn’t such a Goose Island chauvinist, it would have prevailed.

Press Club Stout, Standeaven Brewery (RSA): The final of the four took us back to South Africa.  This came to the glass super-duper foamy, almost like someone had dropped in some soap. After spilling all over the table, we took the glasses outside and finished pouring. When finally got past the foam, we were confronted with a sour, metal taste complemented by and a slight toastiness on the nose that carried through to the taste. Bitterness was okay, but it was generally flat and boring and Hardly worth the sticky mess. No one needed a second sip but it was hardly inoffensive. Third place for the press club.

Outliers

Here we pushed to the edge of the stout family with a few beers that look like a stout from outside the bottle but make no claims to being one.

Black Mist and Candy Corn

Robinson Old Tom with Chocolate (UK): Out of its dark packaging, we quickly realised that this was not a stout at all, but really a dark ale.  The colour was ambery and the smell woody with some vanilla; far more fragrant than what we’ve been drinking up till now. As soon as it hit the tongue, someone proclaimed it tasted like ‘a bag of Halloween candy.’ We agreed the taste profile was basically 'candy corn.’ The Kenyan was convinced that they’d added something to corrupt the brew. No one could figure how you'd get an orangey corn syrup flavour without additions. To its credit, it had a nice light head and good carbonated. Still, someone feared they’d get a cavity if they kept drinking, probably not what most are not looking for. “I quite like it” says Steven, which kind of summed up the feeling. Oddly, probably the best of the bunch, but not a clear winner.

Robinson Old Tom ‘The Original' (UK):  Back to a more stout like visual profile this one poured out with a small head and light carbonation. Even with the nose in the glass, there was almost no scent. Someone thought they caught a whiff of swimming pool. Another one – the doctor – thought it tasted like Actifed while the Alaskan dismissed it as 'Steel Reserve' with chocolate. Vic, another New Yorker, tasted drain cleaner. The remainder settled on cough syrup. Riding the wave, a corner of the table wasn’t convinced that cough syrup was so bad. I mean, teens get drunk off it all the time, right? The Irishman liked it even if it had a bit too much alcohol for the taste (it is 8.5%).  By the end, only one at the table thought he might buy it again even if the bottle claims it was the ‘best ale in the world.’ 

Darling Brew Black Mist (RSA): The only South African in this crowd, this one showed up darker than the rest, but without much else. Like many of the other South Africans, this offered up a ‘metal’ taste, probably a result of limited local malts. Someone quickly dismissed the beer as ‘pointless’. Colin offered that it tasted like sparkling water mixed with a bit of leftovers from before  A few people thought that wasn’t so bad and could be a better session beer, although they admitted that there were far options out there that tasted better and would be slower to bloat your belly. Mark agreed you could drink it all night but feared lead poisoning. It came in second place: middling but certainly drinkable.

Imperials

With but two, very different contenders, we had no clear winner.  Basically, it came down to taste and it split the table down the middle. Well, not really. Mark and I stuck with bourbon county while the Lagunitas rounded up the rest.

The Imperial Strikes Last

Lagunitas Imperial Stout (USA): This one was all dark chocolate and hops countered with light bubbles. Like many Lagunitas beers, this one was sweet; almost syrupy on the tongue in fact.  Mark felt there was a beef jerky taste. Michael, who’d lived in South Africa a bit longer agreed on meat but better described it as ‘biltongy.’ Whatever the taste, it coats your tongue with the meaty maltiness. It lets you know it’s around before passing through. Appropriate for the end of a long night, it was almost like drinking a post-meal (if meaty) brandy. Once you got past the biltong, there certainly were rich fruity tastes that almost shrouded the 9% alcohol.  Should probably be drank at cellar temperature rather than chilled. Generally delicious.   

Goose Island Bourbon County (USA):  The most distinctive of the night, this bourbon barrel aged beer pours like oil into the glass. Helen thought you could probably drive your car on this. Judging from the taste, there is certainly enough alcohol in this to fire up a science class full of Bunsen burners (15%). Colin thought it smelled like blood, but that might just be his earlier trauma coming back to haunt him.  Others sense it had a Port like taste, probably the result of its barrel aging.  Tor argued that this was not beer at all, but was kind of like a desert wine in a Halloween costume.  “This taste like mixing your drinks,” Colin said, “a glass of wine and Guinness all at once. that’s just wrong”.  Helen felt it was like toffee with chocolate in the middle.  Whatever you say, those small bubbles on the tongue and the strong taste were something you could love or hate. I loved it. On a cold winter’s night, there would be nothing like it.  

Dissimulating Drayman: Emperor IPA

Sometime before Christmas, I made my way to the Bryanston Organic Market to seek out a gift or two for family and friends. Despite strong endorsement from people I generally trust, the market was cloying, lily-white, and about as far from a farmer's market as Makro's frozen food aisle (but without the bargains). Like Makro, the market's redemption lay in the various tipples on offer. After tasting sips of deliciously chilled white wine, I stumbled on the Drayman beer booth: an evident oasis in the mass of oppressive faux-hippie elitism.  

 

Gateway to Garden Gnomes

Having long hankered to taste a Drayman, I hoped their taps and cooler boxes would offer consolation for my temporary captivity while promising Pretoria's best for the discerning drinker. Although leaning towards German-style beers, I was titillated by the appearance of an India Pale Ale in their stable. Having to continue my holiday shopping elsewhere, I got in the queue with hopes of asking a few questions and scoring a few bottles. Perhaps the proprietor had been hitting the taps or was just overwhelmed by the heat and the market, but he was struggling to manage the increasingly pink, boisterous men lining up to fill their glasses. When I managed to get his attention he proved surprisingly cagey about the beers. at odds with geeky beer culture, he refused to even hint at the hops or malts being used or reveal anything about production. Put off but not deterred, I nevertheless bought a bottle of the Emperor IPA and high tailed it out of there. (The website includes no detail apart from the label, so there's no scoring details there either.)

The IPA in its plastic litre

With the holidays come and gone, I finally found a sunny Sunday afternoon suitable for a casual tasting. My first surprise was that the Emperor was only four percent alcohol, two or three percent below most IPAs and even further below an imperial IPA. Turns out I could have drank the thing and made it back from Bryanston. Indeed, you could drink it all day and still make it home on your donkey or trike.

The question is, would you want to spend your day drinking the thing. If you're after an IPA, the answer squarely lands in the 'no' column. Although the beer is hoppy and crisp, there's not a huge amount of flavour or anything distinct on the nose. In fact, while it is fresh there's no distinguishable hop profile -- no citrus, no pine, just some basic bittering.  Even for a Tuetonic IPA (including the fairly tasty and comparable Handwerk All Day IPA), this is a pretty flat offering.

If you're keen on a crisp beer and can't be bothered about labels, this is a surprisingly versatile offering. It's a bit cloudy, natural tasting and comes complete with a nice fine froth that sticks to the glass even after the beer is gone. Again, there's heavy carbonation for an IPA, but its perfectly bouncy and sharp bubbles are well suited to a crisp picnic ale. That it comes in a big, one litre plastic bottle makes it practically perfect for drinking under the sun. If you peel off the elephantine label, you could probably convince the local cop that you're downing a ginger ale.  In this election season, shedding the cute elephants might help avoid unwanted cadre attention offended by your implicit IFP support.

In conclusion, this is a fine ale shrouded in IPA clothing: simple, straightforward, and sure to quench a summer thirst.  But if you're after a hoppy beer filled with rich, floral tones, this one is not for you.