Rating: ★★★★★★★★½☆

I’ve been wanting to feature this cider since I tried it, in Autumn 2011, at the International Craft Cider Festival, held in some god forsaken Welsh valley. I was at a talk on English cider, and I still didn’t quite get English cider, so I wasn’t expecting much. However, I truly had my mind blow by the demonstration there. Firstly, I the speaker absolutely convinced me that ciders made from a single variety of apple are in no way inherently superior, and often inferior, and, that amazing ciders can be made from eating apples. And if you don’t believe me, you need to order yourself some of this cider, and I think you’ll see my point.

So the “Beauty of Bath” is an early harvest apple, (from Bath, England), which fell from popularity due to its short season and poor keeping quality. However, the folks at Broom Farm (aka Ross on Wye Cider) planted some, and found it made for some pretty tasty cider. They wouldn’t tell me all the details, but they ferment it to dry, and then brought the sweetness level back up with cane sugar.

This is still cider, with a rich straw cold hue. The nose has subtle brettanomyces notes (very subtle for a British cider) but also a lot of apples esters, some cut grass and something perfumey or flowery that, to me, really sets the cider apart.  The sweetness is medium-ish cider (specific gravity of 1007), but it is not cloying or dull. There is a lot of fresh apple flavours and some subtle tannins and moderate acidity that keep it exciting. Though I’ve got to say, I’m tempted to strap a soda stream to this and see what it’s like with some fizz (though maybe that’s because whenever I have medium/sweet ciders they are usually French and fizzy). The finish has waves of the complex fruity aromatic perfume that I can’t really put my finger on, and the brettanomyces asserting itself. Wonderful.

This a fantastic medium cider. It proves, to any doubters, that a fantastic cider can be made from (the right) eating apples. There really isn’t any room for complaints here. Drink it cold. Available from the usual places in the UK (cideronline and the Bristol Cider Shop), and small amounts are making it to the US I believe. 8.5/10 (Almost a 9).

 

 

Here we have Gosling’s entry level rum (Black Seal), versus its premium rum (Old). The question I want to answer for you is, is it worth the difference between £18/$25 for the Black Seal vs the £45/$55 for the Old.

Black Seal: Cheap bottle. Plastic cap. They could have at least sprung for metal. The nose is unsurprisingly sweet molasses… but also with a somewhat unpleasant solventy/acetony backing. Not much else to report. The taste is foremost sweetness, molasses, some stewed fruit. The finish is long and sweet, but with that solventy nature asserting itself more and more. I know they already sell this in a 140 (70%) and a 151 (75%) proof version, but I’d love to see them make this at about 47-52%… I think it would do better with more of a kick, but as it is, it’s just a bit boring. One dimensional. Make yourself a dark and stormy with it. You can sip it if you have to, but I wouldn’t get excited about it.

Old Rum: The bottle has all sorts of attempts at nice touches. Comes in a wooden (plywood) box, with a clear (perspex) front, and olde timey packaging (shredded paper). Wax topped (annoying) and stopped with a cork (I approve). While almost identical to the eye, straight away the nose is a different beast. More accurately, a 2nd cousin to our Black Seal, a lot of similarities, but different enough. Of course, molasses sweetness, but vanilla, cloves, almond… presumably from the extended oak aging. The taste is also significantly improved, without losing its roots. The molasses comes much later, and has an earthy quality. The first hit is just a zing of alcohol and sweetness. Dying away to a rich, woody, warming glow.

No question, the Old is a much better drink than the Black Seal. But is it worth twice as much? That depends on your budget. To me, it seems a bit pricey, but ultimately, while drinks lie on a continuum of value, each of us have a line in the sand. On one side: Meh, on the other: Yum. Black Seal is on one side, Old Rum is on the other.

Black Seal: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Old Rum: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

Dark and Stormy

Unlike most cocktails that are defined by the quality of the booze, the Dark and Stormy is won or lost by the ginger beer. It’s got to be spicy as all hell, and as dry as you can find. If you use cheap sweet flavourless stuff, your drink is going to be boring, and there is nothing you can do about it. If you’re Australian, Bundaberg ginger beer is a good start, Barritt’s in the US. In the UK, Schweppes will not do! The exact ratio of ginger beer to rum is key. 2:1 is often quoted, but I think this doesn’t quite hit the spot.

4 Oz Goslings Black Seal

6 Oz of Ginger Beer

3 slices of peeled root ginger

Optional 3 cloves, Slice of lime

In the bottom of your Boston shaker, bruise the slices of ginger. Don’t destroy them, or you’ll get little bits of ginger fibre in your cocktail. If you’re trying the cloves, add them in and just give them a little tap. Pour in your ginger beer and your rum and stir. Pour into a collins glass full of big chunks of ice. Drop in a slice of lime if you must. But seriously guys, leave out the ounce of lime juice. If your ginger beer is up to the task, the lime just makes stuff taste weird.

 

Rating: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Britain has a very busy craft cider scene. True, it has a massive industrial cider presence as well. But the family run cider business is alive and well in Britain. And Ralph’s is one of them, based in West Wales, near places with names such as Llanfihangel Rhydithon or the poetic sounding Crug. I suspect a lot of my US readers have never had a real British Cider (Bulmers, Strongbow or Thatchers doesn’t count), so let me impart this to you, most real British cider uses solely the yeast that grows on the fruit when it is stored, and this can lead to some very interesting flavors. And what am I talking about? Brettanomyces of course, the British Fungus. And to my taste, a lot of British ciders would do better if they tried to calm down its presence, because it can get a little heady. But Ralph’s Perry finds a better balance than average.

We have a very pale, almost with a touch of green, completely still perry here.  To me, the aroma is foremost of Brett. Band aids and antiseptic. But away at the back, there is a subtle sweet smell, and an estery, fruity aroma, that is perhaps pear. And maybe just a touch of caramel. The taste is medium sweetness with a good punch of acidity. And a tiny touch of tannins. The finish is the Brett, same as the aroma.

Look, this is a lovely perry. I could drink it all night. But it doesn’t get me excited. Maybe I’m just a heathen, or maybe because I’m not British I can’t truly appreciate it. And to be fair, this is an Award winning cider. But to me, there is just too much Brett. You can’t go around having a big song and dance about how your perry is pure organic juice, if I can hardly taste the damn pears. Still, it’s nice. Drink it ice cold. 7/10

 

Rating: ★★★★★★★★½☆

To be completely honest, I’d never heard the The Kernel Brewery until I was wondering, lost as a child, in the elises of the only decent beer store in Cardiff. In a daze, my eyes were drawn to a solitary brown bottle. The bottle called out to me for one simple reason: it had the name of the hops it was brewed with stamped on the label. (and I mean literally stamped on with a rubber stamp).

Since then I’ve learned a bit about the Kernel Brewery. Based in London, they are very new. Not quite two years old. They are unusal, in the they really only make two kinds of beers: Porters and Pale ales. If you want to be a bit more precise, Porters, Stouts IPAs and pale ales. But I think you take my point.

Currently, I’m getting quite sozzled off one of their Delta Chinook Pale Ales. A relative lightweight at 5.3%, this, like all of the pale ales of theirs I have tried, is a hops forward tongue tingler. But lets go through this. Appearance: Semi opaque Straw. Aroma: Hear my prayers God above, if you are great and good, take me in the middle of a sniff of this. Piney hops so clean and clear you could make a Broadway soloist from it. Undertones of other things: lemon, thyme, honey. This is the delta hops singing loud and proud. And the taste is more of the same, with a bitter finish asserting itself more with each sip owing, I assume, to the chinook. The malt is hiding in the background with with chorus girls, and I have neither the patience nor the inclination to go looking for it. Let it stay back there. The hops has center stage and it’s name on the marquee. I can not see how the malt could improve matters. This beer has one star, and her name is hops. (Are we done with the musical metaphores?)

I have a hard time rating this beer, as it is a perfect session beer, but on the other hand, it is lacking anything outstanding or novel. Still. 8.5/10

 

Rating: ★★★★★★★★½☆

So a lot of people first heard of BrewDog when they released Tactical Thermonuclear Penguin, which was, at the time, the worlds strongest beer (32%; since been topped by themselves with Sink the Bismark at 41%, as well as a few other limited editions). But apart from making insane beers, the also make normal beers. And if the Punk IPA is anything to go by, they are very good beers too.

I’ve recently moved to the UK, (hence the 5 months of silence) and I really wanted the first thing I reviewed to be from the UK. I’ve tried quite a few beers here, but none of it has been worth blogging about. Here’s a tip for any would be UK publicans: don’t discharge your goddamn beer with nitrogen unless it’s a stout! But that may be the subject for another time. Anyway…

Back to BrewDog. They’re Scottish. From the far North. Fraserburgh. If you’re not from the UK, that’s about 100 miles north of the latitude at which Alaska starts. They breed them hard as nails up there. That’s why I’m surprised that this is (and I’m scared to say this as some mad Scottsman yelling ‘freedom’ may jump out and slash me in two)  such a refined beer. I expected enough bitterness to kill a goat. Or maybe just something flat and boring and dour. Maybe I got it wrong, and this is some kind of weapon designed to lull the English into a coma so the Scots can attack and claim independence (though judging by my experience of English beers so far, they wouldn’t touch the stuff, as it tastes too much of hops).

Moving on. When I cracked the bottle, I felt like MacBeth “Is this hops which I smell before me? The aroma towards my nose. Come, let me taste thee.” But it was no hallucination. It was rich, resinous, piney, amazing, wonderful hops. Fresh hops. REAL HOPS. Indeed, it is no surprise that this beer appeals to me so much, as we have New Zealand sauvin hops, as well as chinook, simcoe and ahtanum. The last two hop varieties are new to me, but my sources tell me that ahtanum is very much like cascade, as is simcoe, but  the latter has more pine and bitterness. Which fits well, as that is just what my nose reports: a gorgeous piney citrusy wave, with an undertone of biscuity malt (Marris pale).  And there is something else a bit floral… but all in all, this nose: wow. I don’t want to down play how happy I am to be drinking this beer right now, but the taste did not quite live up to the aroma. I expected to be hit over the head with hops. But no. Hence my comment about this beer being refined. I’m sure to some, this mixture of amazingly powerful, zesty, enlivening aroma, with a mild IPA flavor would be very well received. And maybe it is just that I have been drinking nothing but flavorless beers for 5 months, but I was a little let down. But to be fair, it is very well balanced. Not too sweet, not to bitter, not too hoppy or malty. Balance. The finish is bitter, and increasingly so with every sip.

Is this a classical IPA? Not in my books, not by a long shot, but I could care less, because it is fantastic. This is a session IPA. This is outstanding. This is the best beer I’ve drunk from the UK in 5 months. I could happily (very happily) sink 6 of these with dinner (though I might try to keep it to 4 if I didn’t want to offend anyone). Get some. 8½ stars.

 

Vintage:2001

Rating: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

Serralunga d’Alba, with its famous castle, is a tiny village on the other side of the hills about 2 miles east of Barolo proper. Despite the huge famousness of the wine from here, very few people appreciate the fact that the comune (municipality) of Barolo has a population of just under 1000 people, and Serralunga d’Alba has one house more than 500 people: Tiny place. Big wine.

Barolo: the name alone evokes gasps and bulging eyes in wine geeks around the world. I could go on an on, but the simple story goes like this. The historical (I avoid saying classical) Barolo was made from fermenting wine on its skins for around a month. This led to a tannin rich product which then needed to be aged for a decade to smooth out the tannins, reducing all of the fruit in the wine to a ghost.  Of course, in the 70′s and 80′s Americans came along and started clamoring for fruity wines. Yada Yada… some vineyards started making fruity, low tannin Barolos, some vineyards stuck with the traditional approach. New style producers called the traditionalists ‘medieval’, the traditionalists call the modernists ‘sell outs’.  However, thankfully (depending on how you look at it), improved vine management led to reduced tannin loads in the grapes and the juice generally only sits on the skins for about 5-20 days.  The temperature of the fermentation plays a big part. Cool fermentation leads to big fruit, hotter leads to more tannins. The final important factor is how long the wine is left to age in oak, and the size of the vessels it is in. Lots of new oak breaks the back of any aggressive tannins, but kills the rose flavor that Barolo is known for.

Barolo is, of course, fantastically expensive. And to be honest with you, I can’t afford the best Barolo. Hence, I’m stuck with the pervasive Fontanafredda brand. However, it is still an expensive product. So expensive, I have kept it for some time. Indeed, tomorrow, I am moving from New Zealand to the UK, and so, I have opened my last bottle of wine.

However, lets go to this wine… The color is typically aged Barolo, very very brick. Almost as brown as it is garnet. Aroma: strongly alcoholic. There is a mild vanilla and spice aroma. This might sound a little insane, but I swear there are notes of walnuts in here. I can not detect any rose. The palate starts to get a bit more exciting. There is a constant presence of strong, yet velvety tannins, that are, quite frankly, deeply exciting to me. There is a clear presence of oak here, but in no way is it overpowering. It is dry, and not strongly fruity. There is, as I said before, the ghost of fruits left. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. Indeed, this is largely a classically produced wine:  about 30 days of fermentation on the skins (15 days of which is malolactic fermentation) which is 30°C, and 2 years in large French and Croatian oak casks. The finish, unsurprisingly, is a long, winding, tannic road.

I had this wine twice, once with duck confit with a raspberry sauce, and again with some pork fillet with a spicy plum sauce. Ultimately, however, I think it is best enjoyed by itself. Perhaps some rich blue cheese. Either way, save it till after dinner.

 

Vintage:2006

Rating: ★★★★★★★½☆☆

C J Pask is a New Zealand vineyard, and in my opinion, it produces some of the best reds in the Hawkes Bay region, under its Distinction label. Its Gimblett Road label is its mid range product, but it’s still pretty good (for references sakes, the Gimblett Road Cabernet Sauvignon  is just outstanding).

The nose is a little flat, bramble fruits and oak. Nothing much else to report. Disappointing. On the palate, things get somewhat more exciting. There is a very interesting oakiness to this, and a lot of people could learn from it. It’s not aggressive vanilla, it’s beautiful, complex woody tannins. I don’t know, but I would swear it was French oak (it was aged for 14 months in oak for the record). A clear fruit flavor rings out as well, cherries, boysenberries and a touch of strawberries and liquorice. And a good knock of sweetness. The finish is of slowly diminishing fruit, and a wonderfully smooth tannic tickle.

It’s very nice, and is a beautiful table wine. This is the kind of wine you’d drink with a meal (how about some New Zealand lamb?) and have a great time, but not the kind of wine you’d put aside an afternoon to savor. 7½/10

 

Rating: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Pommeau. As cider is to wine, and calvados is to brandy; pommeau is to pineau. Pommeau is not equivelant to sherry, because sherry is made from wine fortified with brandy. Pommeau is made from unfermented apple juice mixed with calvados (about 3 to 1). The mixture is then aged in oak for at least 14 months. Pommeau comes in two AOC recognized variants, Normandie and Bretagne, and I will be completely honest, apart from geography, I only know one difference in the style of these two. Pommeau de Bretagne is supposed to be slightly more tannic.

Le Père Jules Pommeau de Normandie pours a wonderfully warm amber color. The nose is surprisingly ethanolic considering it is only 17% alcohol. Indeed, it is packing quite a lot of solventy aromas. e.g. acetone. Of course there is apple, and a lot of buttery sweetness. This was aged for 5 years in oak, and it clearly shows in the vanilla-y smells, though they are in no way overpowering. If you’ve never had pommeau before, I think the first time you try it, you’re going to be surprised by the subtlety of the alcoholic impact on the palate. The medium body is very nice; if it was much heavier, it would be very cloying. Of course, it is very sweet, with a clear taste of apple. There is a hint of tannins, which, if absent, would leave this pommeau very boring. The finish is dominated by sweetness and the tannins. There is nothing wrong with this pommeau, but it doesn’t excite me in any way. Basically, too much sweetness, not enough apple, and no wow. 7 stars.

Strictly speaking an aperitif, but I can’t see why you wouldn’t drink it after dinner. Drink it chilled.

 

Rating: ★★★★★★★★★☆

The Stone Vertical. First bottled on the 2nd of the 2nd 2002. Each beer bottle a year, a month, and a day after the last. With the point that they should all be drunk, one after the other, on the 12th of the 12th of 2012. In reality, I’m sure Stone are well aware that most people don’t have the fortitude to cellar a beer for a decade, so these beers are all ready to drink now. On the other hand, I’m sure it would be pretty amazing to open the full collection on 12.12.12.

What we have here is a Belgian pale ale. So Belgian Yeast and Pale Malt. Furthemore we have some tricale malt and perle hops. But then things get interesting. After the wort has been boiling with the malt, chamomile is added. Then after primary fermentation, juice from Muscat, Sav Blanc and Gewurztraminer grapes are added to start off a secondary fermentation.

In the glass, this beer has the most beautiful golden straw coloring. It formed a good inch of head (with a bit of encouragement), but this quickly dissipated to a fine lace. The main aroma is a twin punch of malt and Belgian yeast. There are background hints of apple, pear and banana esters, and cloves. There is something very light and floral in the background, but I can’t put my finger on it. As it warms, the solventy smell of the 9.5% ethanol gets more pronounced. A lot of reviews I’ve read have people saying “very vinous” or “smells just like Sauvignon Blanc”. I literally have no idea what these people are talking about. It smells like a Belgian Pale Ale with a hint of something interesting to me.

Taste? Oh things start to get really good here. Well of course, malt. But everything is built off of a fascinating mouth feel. There is plenty of acidity here. Not like a lambic, but just, a solid acidity. There is also something bitter here. But this is not hops bitterness. It does not feel like astringent tannin bitterness. Honestly, I don’t know what it is. But it is morish and intriguing. I hate to think that after 2 years of age, this is lost, but I hope not. If you like Belgian Ales, you really should try this. Again, I couldn’t call it wine-like. But I assume the acidity comes from the grapes. I can’t really taste chamomile either. But it may be in there, just lending some bassy complexity.

9/10 Really easy to get excited about and really easy to get drunk off.

 

Vintage: 2006

Rating: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆

The Barossa. Inarguably Australia’s most well known and prestigious wine growing region. I’m not going to give you a lesson on it. Let’s just remember that it’s pretty hot. And getting good acidity, and non-diabetic level of sugars, has always been the challenge. This is why most of the crop was turned into fortified wine for the first 100 years of wine production there.

The Stonehouse range by Kaesler is a ‘drink now’ kind of product (read “entry level)”. Most of what I know about the wine I could have guessed after tasting it. Malo-lactic fermentation, most of it aged in old oak for 12 months. In the glass, this wine has a dark scarlet color and a youthful edge to it, even after 5 years. The nose is sweet and alcoholic, not surprising for the whopping 15.5% alcohol. Furthermore there is cherry, plum and subtle oak, but I can not detect much in the way of spice.  The taste is fruit forward and sweet, and for my tastes, out of balance for the level of acidity and tannins. And how strong are the tannins? Very weak, and what is there is very soft, giving this wine a very round soft mouth feel. The oak is very subtle… just a hint. There is a touch of liquorice if you search for it. And while I think the sweetness is frankly over the top, there is something savory going on here too.

Overall, this is a fine wine. Soft and sweet. But it doesn’t scream classical Barossa. 7/10

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