Temple Pale Ale

After Gage Road's less than inspiring Lager, the decision was made to return to my go to style of beer - the American Pale Ale.  These days the APA market is as gargantuan as Felix Baumgartner's testicles, and breaking into it is about as easy as bobsledding down a sand dune.  Temple is a brewery based on the northern side of the Yarra, in the hipster haven of Brunswick, and they have written the word 'beer' in no less than seven different languages on the bottle.  Not unlike a menu from a Fitzroy restaurant.  They have a decent range of beers from what I've seen on the shelf, but this will be the first cab off the rank for yours truly.

The pour of the beer is admittedly underwhelming.  The initial appearance is attractive, like a glass full of darkened honey in colour, but the body does present a bit like Kate Moss after a 3 day bender where she's only managed to eat a Salada and three Tic Tacs.  There is no haze or granulated elements in the body, it's just a clear glass of beer.  Lacking is that solid oomph that the stronger Pale Ales tend to pull off.

Taste-wise however, it doesn't really take many wrong steps.  The supporting flavours are very delicate, which does work seamlessly with the smooth feel of the beer.  Imagine headbutting a silk pillow, covered in caramel, malt and nuts.  It's all very laid back, except for the usual life of the party.  The hops aren't hiding away in the corner, and are as pronounced as John Travolta's chin during a 3D screening at IMAX.  It feels slightly off kilter at first, and while the pendulum never quite returns to center, there's enough balance to earn a passing grade.  If you like a smooth, hopped Pale Ale, then this is a solid beer.  Those who are looking for more of a firecracker will probably be disappointed.

There's enough to go off here to say that I would be interested in trying some other beers from Temple.  There is a time and a place for everything, and while this would never be my first choice, on a hot day it would still trump the watery beers that most people go for under these conditions.  I'm looking at you Corona.

6.5/10

Gage Roads Premium Lager

The last Gage Roads' beer that I had was their ambitiously titled 'Atomic Ale', which was most certainly a tasty and sessionable ale, but the problem with the marketing of that beer was that it was in fact about as atomic as Ethiopia's nuclear weapons program.  It was overall a very restrained and safe pale ale, that never quite picked up the nerve to take off it's seat belt.  It's probably logical to assume that a lager from the same brewery is not going to bring the house down, but given it was on sale and I was thirsty, in to the trolley it went.

Anyone that has been around the block once or twice on the beer circuit knows that seeing the words 'Premium', and 'Lager',  together on a bottle is more likely the firing of a warning shot to send you running, rather than a cunning ploy to lure drinkers in to a delicious ambush.  You see it all the time on a big brewer's labels, when in actual fact what lurks inside is watery fizzy yellow crap that you would only otherwise drink at an office christmas party or a wedding, because it's free and, well let's be honest, it still does the job when consumed in large quantities.  'Premium' in the beer world is more an attempt at compensation, rather than braggadocio.  It is the Porsche Cayenne of beer basically.

Gage's entry in to the world of 'Premium Lagers' starts off with a bang the size of a small cap gun, being fired by a midget, riding a Shetland pony.  The beer pours a light amber/yellow colour, with a weak fizz that eventuates in to nothingness.  The excitement I felt while eyeing off the glass was reminiscent of the the first time you watched Matrix Revolutions.  You know they've probably fucked it up, but you can always hope for the best.  The feel of the beer is sharp, and the carbonation has that biting sting to it.  It's slightly overkill and makes the beer feel artificial in my eyes.  The flavours though, are not bad at all.  The taste is light and grassy, with feint grains and malts.  Nothing exciting at all, but it's all taped together well enough that it doesn't fall apart on you like a Chinese motorcycle.

This is not a terrible beer, nor is it a good beer.  It's a 'slightly-better-than-the-big-guys' lager, but to be frank there are better alternatives on the market if you're into the bottom fermented variety of the world's favourite beverage.  I don't recommend you go out and buy it, but if you had to choose between this and a Pure Blonde or something, then Gage Roads would win by a nose.

4.5/10

2012 Sierra Nevada Southern Hemisphere Harvest Fresh Hop Ale

Last year I tried the 2011 SN Northern Hemisphere Harvest, which is described as a 'wet hop' ale as opposed to the 'fresh hop' ale moniker that adorns the version derived from the bottom end of the Earth.  Drinking that beer was a gargantuan undertaking, as it was the equivalent of 3.8 standard drinks, and the 'wet hop' element meant that the hops were added without being dried out first, and I can sure as hell tell you it made a difference.  The oily bitterness was a synergy of pain and pleasure that has to be experienced rather than be explained.  Or you could perhaps just go to an S & M Club.  50 shades of hops.

Being a North American brewer, I was not aware that they did a Southern version and was keen to give this one a whirl.  While 'fresh hops' sounds more enticing and less deadly than 'wet hops', I imagine the difference is akin to nothing more than trading in a taipan bite for that of a tiger snake.

Sierra Nevada beers always look great in the glass and this is no exception to the rule.  The beer pours a rich amber/orange colour, synonymous with this type of beer, below a soft fluffy head.  To give you a firmer idea of the colour, think a jar of rich marmalade.  Resinous hops are at the forefront of the beer as is to be expected, but the delivery is far more familiar than when I sampled the 'wet hop' version.  There isn't that same sock to the jaw.  You can look at it from different angles I suppose, there is not as much of a surprise element here, but at the same time it's easier to digest.  Along with the heavy handed hops, there are tones of citrus and caramel, and in the end the combination bears the fruits of a brilliant IPA.

It is an expensive beer, and I'm having an internal battle with myself as to whether it is worth the price of admission or not.  Sometimes when you drop this amount of coin on a rare once off beer then you want somewhat of a unique experience.  If you've been around the block once or twice with Sierra Nevada and IPAs in general then you won't be caught off guard here.  What you will get though, is a fantastic IPA.  Should you be asking more than that?  I am not entirely sure.  So on that note, I will give it the same score as the Northern Hemisphere version and let you decide for yourself.

8.5/10

Mad Brewers Hoppy Hefe

The Hefeweizen can be a bland style of beer, often because the ingredients are for the most part the same, and the difference from one brew to the next can be subtle at best.   When it comes down to it, the Hefeweizen is the vanilla at the Gelati stand, the Corolla in the car yard, or the iPhone of beers... perhaps without the vicious lawsuits.   Once you peel away the packaging, and strip the marketing garb, the bare bones you are left with form essentially the same product as the last.   I do enjoy a good wheat beer when thoroughly parched on a hot summers day, but have yet to really embrace the genre, as there is never enough meat on the bones to justify the class as a versatile beer.   Enter Mad Brewers' Hoppy Hefe.  

A 7% Hefeweizen that comes only in a 640ml bottle, brewed by our own Malt Shovel (of James Squire fame).   The label firmly declares that 'sweet and spicy' German wheat beers could do with a lashing of hops, and be all the better for it.   I certainly can't argue with that.   I am at a point in my life where Maccas could just about put me in a diabetic clinic by releasing a McHop Burger.

The pour of the 'Hoppy Hefe' is visually striking.   The body is incredibly thick with colour.  Think shades of orange, amber, and burnt peach, all working in intertwining circular layers as if it were brewed by an intergalactic crop artist.   You can actually swirl the liquid around in your glass, and watch the different shades and pigments glide around.   Compared to your average beer, this belongs in the Louvre.   A thin fluffy head sits perfectly atop the body in a crowning fashion.   The nose is pleasant, and smells like a resinous pine tree that has been genetically modified to bear fruit.   Monsanto would be incredibly jealous.

The tone of the beer is as much a Hefe, as Chris Farley was an inspiration for anorexia.   The feel is weighted, and moderately heavy like a good American Pale Ale.   There is a mild oily slickness to it, but the delicacy is something that I have rarely encountered.   It's akin to being brutally socked in the jaw... by a feather bat.   Being swung by a fluffy cloud.   The addition of hops have wrought havoc upon the light carbonated sting that normally accompanies a wheat beer.   The flavours are complex, but balanced, with passion fruit and nectarine-like fruits vying for supremacy amongst sweetened wheat, and bitter hops.   Nothing is truly allowed to dominate, and where a dead heat might normally leave a crowd feeling numb and unfulfilled, this is full of life and breeds nothing but contentment.

This is one of the best Hefeweizens I've ever drunk.   The truth is though, had the word 'Hefe' not been printed on the label I likely would not have considered it to be so.   This is really an American Wheat Ale, for want of a more accurate term.   But lets not descend into genre arguments, for that is why God invented YouTube.


8.5/10

Red Duck White Garden

I had been wanting to keep reviewing beers on a more regular basis, but alas, life has gotten in the way.  After weeks of drinking cases of the same beer, over and over, I decided the funk must be broken.  There were a few random stowaway beers at the back of the fridge, and the first one I picked up was Red Duck's White Garden.  Red Duck are a very small brewery based in Victoria, whose wares I have sampled before.  In general, they are an above average brewer so I wasn't intimidated by the chances of this one being a dud.

It's hard to imagine what one might be doing when entering 'White Garden'.  You could simply be walking in to a large collection of daisies, or perhaps the ceremonial grounds of the Ku Klux Klan.  The write up on the label describes the ale as a mixture of various malts, combined with Raspberry and Rhubarb Jam.  Boy, that escalated quickly.  I wasn't expecting

'White Garden' to be the moniker of a beer brewed with condiments that are, for the most part, red.  The name is all in the appearance.  The ale pours a very light whitish/yellow, and hardly even looks like a beer.  The body is not translucent however, and has a serious murkiness to it.  It is littered with 'floaters', and resembles the Atlantic Ocean amidst the aftermath  of the Titanic.  Much like the disastrous event, the majority of these floaters perilously sink to the bottom.  We all know there was room for two people on that piece of wood Kate Winslet, you selfish bitch. 

If you've followed my reviews you'll know that I don't often pay much to credence to the appearance and 'nose' of a beer, unlike many other wankfest beer writers, but Jesus Christ the smell that eminates from this beer is something horrific.  The aroma is confoundedly tart, almost to the point of being rotten.  Basically, it smells like Madonna.  I know you probably think I'm being comedic here, but I honestly would not be surprised if Madonna smelt like this beer.

Just when you think you may have some sort of a grasp over this concoction, you end up taking a sip.  It doesn't taste like raspberry, or rhubarb.  The sweetness you might have been expecting has been brutally beaten to death by what can only be described as a sour mess.  The feel of the beer is flimsy and watery, and adds nothing to the overall experience whatsoever.  I cannot think of any circumstance that anyone would 'want' to drink this.  Then just to add insult to injury

as you approach the final third of the drink, which is a considerable amount, you are confronted with a naval minefield of floating crap that not even the Red October could navigate it's way through.

The overall 'taste' of the beer is not bad, it's drinkable, but the entire package as a whole is unrefined, unnecessary, and essentially useless.  Avoid.

3.5/10

Mornington Pale

Mornington Peninsula Brewery is another Victorian micro that has been making a bit of noise lately, with this Pale Ale in particular gathering some favourable reviews around the traps. 

The logo on the bottle has a bit of a cheeky history to go with it.  The symbol is derived from 16th Century alchemy, and signifies 'drinkable gold'.  Apparently 'drinkable gold' at one point was sold as a fail safe remedy to 'cure all illness'.  Medieval times were fascinating in this regard, as mankind had managed to escalate the advancement of death dealing weaponry and disease, yet hadn't succeeded in keeping medicine anywhere as nearly up to scratch.  Whereas now you might leave the doctor's office with some antihistamines, back in the day you likely would have been carrying two raven feathers and an eye of newt for the same ailment.  Nevertheless, you can't argue with a beer brewer using such a symbol to hawk their wares.

The Mornington Pale pours a crisp orange colour, and stands up to it's billing as an American style Pale Ale in appearance at least.  It looks similar to a Little Creature's Pale Ale, with a touch less cloudiness blurring the atmosphere.  Immediately as you raise the glass, a striking waft of fruity aromas spear your nostrils like a blade forged by Hattori Hanzo himself.  The significance of which I struggle to accentuate through words, but it resembles a party at Tony Montana's house after all the coke has run out, and everyone has resorted to chopping up passion fruits and mandarins out of sheer desperation.

The taste of the beer is an exact replica of it's nose.  The blend of light citrus and passion fruit is absolutely seamless.  To be honest I wouldn't have bothered trying to muscle in on the American Pale Ale crowd because this deserves it's own genre.  Like the Stone & Wood Pacific Ale, this is a tropical paradise in a bottle.  It should be drunk under an umbrella on the beach while a lovely lady massages your beautiful brake foot.  I doubt as to whether even Katut could bring you a drink as delicious as this.  The body is light and refreshing, and there are marginal hints of resin and sweet malt, but the assemblage of the tropical style fruits is the sure fire party stealer.

I've drunk a few fruit powered beers that don't always get the balance right.  Mornington Peninsula Brewery have hit the nail square on the head.  It isn't a beer for all occasions, and doesn't quite boast the versatility of other Pale Ales, but what it does do is execute with the enthusiasm of a Texan judge.  Fantastic summer beer, and one that I will look out for when the scorching sun finally returns to Melbourne.

Cheers.

8/10

Karl Strauss Tower 10 IPA

After spending the last while drinking standard ales and lagers, I started getting that itching feeling.  My skin felt like it was burning, my eyes were twitching uncontrollably...  I couldn't sleep...  I couldn't concentrate.  I needed another hit of hops.  It was time for a fix.

HOOK IT TO MY VEIN.

I picked up this at the same time as the Dundee IPA, this number was only $17 for a six pack and is an imported IPA from San Diego, California.  The story goes that in the 1980s, under Lifeguard 'Tower 10', two college grads and an old brew master drew up plans to start the first craft brewhouse in the area.  This West Coast style IPA pays homage to this moment of grandeur, so lets hope that it delivers truly.

The Tower pours an amber colour with tones of copper, bearing a lovely orange hue bursting through it with some light in the room.  It looks pretty good, a bit thin, but West Coast IPAs are generally a few kilos lighter than those from the Eastern Conference.  The first impression this beer leaves is deeper than the Chicxulub Crater.  The word bitter does not even cut the mustard.  Once it really lays the boot in, the bitterness factor of this beer is more assertive than Joseph Stalin's dominatrix.   The feel has that slick oily resin element, but it is extremely subtle for a powerful IPA.  The balance between meaty flavours and refreshing texture is quite astounding, and is something that has to be experienced.

I recommend this beer.  It does come with a warning however.  If you have never tinkered with this genre of beer before, then you may walk out of this experience looking somewhat like a napalm victim.  There are some subtle citrus fruits and sweet tones, but above all it's a gatling gun full of pine needles coated in a residue so bitter it may have been sourced from Eddie McGuire's tears after last year's Grand Final.

A solid, refreshing IPA at an affordable price.  Definitely not amongst my favourite beers, but I still give a nod of acknowledgement in it's general direction.

7.5/10