Guineu - IPA Amarillo
On a previous trip to Spain, I was really impressed by a double IPA Guineu brewed in collaboration with the Bavarian BrauKunstKeller. On
the strength of that, I opted for two of their IPAs from the bulging Beer Store
shelves. This one is resolutely old school in approach – British IPAs seem to have become paler and paler over the past few years, but this pours an attractive hazy red-gold, with a thick,
tight white head. Peach and orange aromas jump out immediately, with lots of
peach carrying into the flavour along with apricot and some grapefruit. There’s
a savoury element to the beer which almost recalls tomato (possibly a
characteristic of some of the darker malts? I often get the same thing in red
ales) which sounds weird but does kind of work, and the finish is notably
bitter but not excessively so. It reminds me of the IPAs doing the rounds when
I first fell in love the style – not-so-pale, not afraid to bump up the IBUs –
and it definitely still hits the spot.
I was hoping for something like a white IPA, my current
favourite pseudo-style, from this, but it doesn’t have any of the estery or
phenolic flavours of either a Belgian wit or a German weisse beer, seemingly
brewed with a standard ale yeast with wheat mainly contributing some extra
body. There’s a sweet-ish candy sugar
thing going on which, along with the hops, presents as a summery stone fruit
character before a long, bitter finish. It’s kind of non-descript and a little
disappointing given the label’s reference to dry-hopping – it doesn’t have that
juicy, amped up hop flavour and aroma you’d expect, possibly because the malty
sweetness refuses to let the hops sing.
The motivation stated on this beer’s label is refreshment in
sticky Barcelona weather, and in that respect, Apassionada absolutely knocks it
out of the park. A passion fruit beer in the generic ‘sour’ category, its
flavour is incredibly vibrant and has
all of the freshness and complexity of the fruit itself. A restrained honey
sweetness, a floral note, rich tropical juiciness and a light tart finish. It’s
deftly managed - any sweeter and you could almost believe you were drinking a
can of Rio rather than a beer, any more acidic and it would become hard work –
and extremely accomplished.
How could I resist that branding? And the BrewDog-aping
isn’t the only British influence on this beer. Described as an English-style
bitter on the back of the label and table beer on the front, it has a
super-pale malt base (100% Marris Otter) and a big, juicy hop character in an
otherwise relatively small beer. I could be wrong, but I’d wager that this is
modelled on The Kernel’s majestic Table Beer. The aroma is beautiful, a big
burst of sherbet, and in the mouth there are tangerines and grapefruits and
something almost herbal or botanical which recalls gin. For one of the
lowest-ABV beers on the shelf, this is packing a huge amount of hop flavour and
was undoubtedly the best beer of the whole trip.
One of a healthy number of brown ales on offer, La Nina
Barbuda pours a translucent cola-brown with a tight off-white head. There’s
wholemeal bread and boozy Christmas pudding on the nose, and the flavour is
exactly what I want from a modern brown ale – cola, cereal, savoury cereals and
the peach and clementine flavours characteristic of a meeting between New World
hops and darker malts. Its drawback is its pointlessly high 7% ABV – some
mouthfuls have a kind of boozy spikiness which just clashes with the otherwise
smooth flavours. Knock this down to 5% and you’d have an excellent brown ale.
I was drawn in by the beautiful label on this beer – not the
best way to choose, but faced with hundreds of bottles from unfamiliar breweries,
what else do you have to go on? This is just one of the reasons why beer
branding is important. This is far, far darker than I’d like an IPA, veering
towards amber ale territory. The malt brings a kind of caramel and candy floss
foundation for a smooth mango hop character before a slightly spicy and bitter
finish. There’s great promise here -that tropical hop flavour is gorgeous, but
I’d suggest lighter malt character would accentuate it a little further.
Having recently re-read this old post from Mark Dredge on the 'pale and hoppy' cask ale, a style that's remained prominent in the UK, I started to ponder my reservations with the malt character of a couple of these beers. Many modern British breweries favour a very pale malt base, at least in beers which prominently showcase American and Southern Hemisphere hops - consider the Juicy Banger and the latest breed of IPAs favouring ever-later hop additions and geared towards massive, booming hop aroma and flavour (the Cloudwater DIPA and BrewDog Born to Die series spring to mind here). It's telling that the beer I most enjoyed was the BeerCat, which acknowledges a British influence - I like beers like this, and they're also what I've become used to drinking. I hope this doesn't come across as a suggestion that this is what beer should be like - I'm just stating a preference.
Having recently re-read this old post from Mark Dredge on the 'pale and hoppy' cask ale, a style that's remained prominent in the UK, I started to ponder my reservations with the malt character of a couple of these beers. Many modern British breweries favour a very pale malt base, at least in beers which prominently showcase American and Southern Hemisphere hops - consider the Juicy Banger and the latest breed of IPAs favouring ever-later hop additions and geared towards massive, booming hop aroma and flavour (the Cloudwater DIPA and BrewDog Born to Die series spring to mind here). It's telling that the beer I most enjoyed was the BeerCat, which acknowledges a British influence - I like beers like this, and they're also what I've become used to drinking. I hope this doesn't come across as a suggestion that this is what beer should be like - I'm just stating a preference.
