Fifty Beers for 2025: The Full Pour
My Kind of Beer
Around this time last year I penned a series that began with an account of my tastes in beer, followed by an exploration of the kinds of beers I like. The series ended with a list of twenty-five beers that had caught my attention over the previous year.
The latter post resonated particularly well (people seem to love lists), so I’m back this year with a selection of beers worth seeking out in 2025. Since 2024 was a busy year for travel for me, I’m spotlighting fifty beers this year. You might also want to pair this list with the one I wrote last year. That’ll give you an additional twenty-five beers for your beer hunting adventures.
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Accounting for My Tastes in Beer
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A Few Notes
Selection: As with last year, I confine my selection to beers I drank during the previous year. I returned to some places I hadn’t visited in decades, and visited some cities and regions for the first time. You’ll see beers from the Allgäu (a region that straddles Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg), Heidelberg, Karlsruhe, northern Germany (Lübeck, Stralsund, Berlin), and also Central Germany (Goslar, Göttingen). You’ll also see plenty of beers from Belgium, which I visited for the first time since the pandemic. What you won’t see are many beers from North America. That’s not a commentary on all the fine beers that surround me here.
Rating “top beers”: Last year I wrote about my decision to do away with awarding one to three tankards to notable beers. My tankards were a concession to the general desire for ratings. But the system confused people. At any rate, the system is gone but not forgotten. It’s safe to say that almost every beer on this list would have garnered two to three tankards. I’ll note with an asterisk which ones really caught my attention.
Availability: Great, you might be thinking. How am I going to get my hands on any of these beers? Admittedly, you probably won’t find many of these beers in the bottle shop just around the corner. You might find some of them in larger cities. Others might involve a plane ride. But they are all out there in some way, shape, or form. With the exception of the beer from Ithaca Beer Co. (which I bought in 2018), I purchased all these beers in 2024 at bottle shops, taprooms, taverns, beer cafes, or breweries, even the relative rarities.
Last but not least, I went back and forth between posting this as a two-parter or as a “full pour.” I opted for the latter so you don’t have to click back and forth between lists. Pour yourself a beer and dig in. Read it in one go, read it in chunks, bookmark it for later, or read it on the train in Europe. Whatever the case, it’s all here, so you can return to it any time you like.
Prost, everyone! Here’s to finding some of these beers in the wild in 2025.
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Fifty Beers Worth Your Time
*Listed in alphabetical order.
Badisch Brauhaus (Karlsruhe), Badish Hell-Feinherb. Fruity in that “Hausbrauerei” way (white grapes mingling stone fruit), with a hint of residual honeyed sweetness. Round and spicy, and “feinherb” as advertised. (Feinherb requires a circumlocution in English: finely bittered with a touch of astringency.) A superb beer for spring and summer!
Big Friendly (Oklahoma City), Universal Beings (Saison).* If lager carried the day last year with this Oklahoma powerhouse, this year the Big Friendly top spot goes to their deft saison. And it’s a looker with its meringue foam capping a glass of lemon yellow sunshine. Pineapple, tropical fruit, honeyed malt, coriander, sage, and peach marmalade make common cause in this full-flavoured but eminently drinkable beer seasoned with a dusting of spicy hops.
Big Friendly, Deciphering the Message (Czech Pale Lager). The message here is one of intense spicy-floral hops with plenty of black pepper and a scent of rose layered over spicy graham cracker and a supple note of fresh hay. Fully deciphered, that means beautifully hop forward, but with a decent malt backdrop, taut but not thin, with snappy but smooth bitterness. This is about as close as you come to Central Europe in these parts.
Birra Messina (Sicily), Cristalli di Sale. Festbier meets pale Bock, but in a beer that clocks in at 5% ABV. Richly malt forward, with white nougat, marzipan, and honey over light toast. Freshly mown hay and meadows in bloom. Peppery hops on the horizon. And then there’s that beguiling trace of sea salt, subtle but present. Refreshing on a warm day.
Brandholz Brauerei (Melkendorf), Golden Brown Bier. Johannes Lang brews the kind of sui generis beer you’d find only in Franconia. Amber-orange, this richly satisfying beer brings aromas of peppery fresh hops to the table, the perfect spice for all that toast, roasted almonds, and lush caramel. Chalky minerality and a subtle bitterness add depth and character. Brandholz doesn’t bottle its beer, so you’ll have to stop by and hope that Lang is tending the brewery.
Brauerei Ott (Oberleinleiter), Export. If you’re a fan of Augustiner’s Edelstoff or Tegernseer’s Spezial, you’ll love this Franconian rendition with its full-bore aromas and flavours of country bread, acacia honey, freshly crushed malt, peppery hops, and spring meadows in bloom. Since this is Franconia, the beer is drier and slightly more bitter than its counterparts down south, but this only makes it all the more quaffable.
Brauerei Penning-Zeißler (Hetzelsdorf), Vollbier. If you walk into a Franconian inn or brewery tap and order a Vollbier, you’ll get a beer that ranges in colour from sunshine yellow to amber to copper, one that might be satisfyingly rich, or taut and focused, or bracingly bitter. This lean and athletic crowd pleaser straddles the threshold of burnished gold and orange-amber, and gets its brisk bitterness from a combo of hops and a walnut-like tannic note. Hints of sweet tobacco and dried cherry complete the portrait of Franconian uniqueness.
Brauerei Kundmüller (Weiher), Weiherer Bock Bier. Not a rough edge on this beer anywhere. Silky smooth, rich and honeyed. A Heller Bock master class, from the glistening golden hue to the velvet-gloved malt heft to the subtly spicy hop notes that keep all that autumn honey, white nougat, and marzipan in check. Kundmüller brews a dizzying array of beers, from standards like Kellerbier to IPAs and barrel-aged behemoths. It’s because of its relative size and scope that Kundmüller occasionally comes in for heat from even the most open-minded Franconian beer enthusiasts. And I understand the sentiment. Sure, Kundmüller could trim their offerings to focus on a narrower range. But their broad palette of generally top-notch beers is a fine calling card for the region.
Brauhaus Goslar (Goslar), Gose Hell. You’ve likely heard of Gose, that pleasantly tart Leipzig beer brewed with wheat, coriander, and a pinch of salt. That beer originated in Goslar, where it is said that the brewing water drawn from the Gose River contained enough salinity that it registered in the beer itself. This isn’t completely surprising, given all the minerals buried in the hills of the Harz Mountains. (Goslar is also home to the Rammelsberg mine, a centuries’ old warren of shafts now a UNESCO world heritage site.) What’s more surprising is that Brauhaus Goslar brews a “clean” Gose, apparently because, according to one of the senior serving staff, Goslar Gose never was sour. Rather, it soured en route to Leipzig, where the Leipzigers eventually found a way to replicate this by letting lactobacillus on the wheat do its thing. This has a whiff of plausibility, though I’m inclined to think the account apocryphal. Whatever the case, Brauhaus Goslar’s Gose bears plenty of resemblance to its Leipzig cousin, sans lassi-like tartness. The coriander blooms nicely as the beer warms, joining notes of peach, orange blossom honey, a distinct but subtle minerality, and a hint of refined Bergsalz.
Brauw (Genk, Limburg), Jef Gosemans Gose. Another Gose, and from Belgium, no less! I’ve yet to find much information about Brauw, or why they decided to brew a Gose in the first place. (Gose’s heyday has passed, after all.) But I don’t need that background info to confirm what my senses tell me. This beer is everything a Gose should be: freshly ground coriander, a subtle wheat grass background note mingling with peach, a tartness reminiscent of yogurt, and just the right amount of salt. A fine recommendation from the serving staff at Café Rose Red in Bruges!
Brouwerij Kerkom (St. Truiden), Winterbinkske.* This warming winter ale looks like black coffee wearing a tan cap. And it’s a malthead’s dream. Malt balls, rum-raisin, chocolate fig cake, ganache, chocolate chip cookie dough, vanilla bean, hazelnut cocoa spread, Ovaltine, and Schwarzbrot — it’s all there. Full bodied, elegant, and silky, with a cola and anise note balancing the rich mocha, chocolate, Calmyrna figs, and residual caramel sweetness.
Brouwerij Verhaeghe (Vichte), Barbe Noir. We came to Vichte for the Duchesse de Bourgogne (one of my all-time faves) but stayed for a sampling of all that Verhaeghe has to offer. And pleasant surprises aplenty there were, including Barbe Noir. Straddling the divide between a quad and a stout, this beer as black as the night is long packs in all the malty goodness a malthead could ask for: toffee, malt balls, chocolate milk, and Spanish chocolate fig cake. For folks who like a hint of fruit in their ales, there’s also candied dark cherries wrapped in ganache, and even a suggestion of cassis. Hefty and warming.
Chodovar (Chodová Planá), Černé. We laced up our boots, strapped on our backpacks, and headed out bright and early with one aim: Bohemian beer. By mid-afternoon we had traversed meadows and forests in the Oberpfalz, crossed from Bavaria into Bohemia, and found ourselves at Pension Pleš, the only remaining building in this village razed in the wake of WWII. The story of this ghost village is fascinating, but I’ll save that for now to focus on the luscious Černé from Chodovar. Černé means black, and this ebony beer bears a family resemblance to the Schwarzbier of Saxony, Thuringia, and eastern Franconia. A complex tableau of cocoa, dark chocolate, mocha, and malted milk, it’s like sipping on a café au lait fortified with jaggery, kurosato (Japanese black sugar), and a dusting of anise and licorice.
De Cam (Gooik, Payottenland), Pinot Noir De Cam (2023). We bought this festively hued pinkish-purple beer at De Cam in mid-December, then opened it with Christmas dinner. Aroma-wise, there’s plenty of French apple cider mingling with funky notes reminiscent of horses and fiacres, but also Pinot Noir grape notes (cherry). Tannins from the grape skins and the barrel do what they can to temper this exuberant ale. Worthy of celebratory days.
De Cam, Kwee-peer-appel (quince fruit lambic).* Karel Goddeau uses 1000 kilos of quince per 1500 liters of beer to create this masterpiece. Unsurprisingly, pome fruit predominates, with a symphony of apple, pear, and quince (of course), joined by herbal notes, lemon pith, and wood. Reminiscent of crisp apple cider, and accented by tannins and green apple tartness, but not so tart that you feel your teeth enamel dissolving. An exceptional beer.
De Dolle (Esen, West Flanders), Boskeun. Special Paasbier (2024). This heady golden-orange Easter beer is more opulent than your average strong golden ale. A host of aromas swirl together into a colourful tapestry of herbs, spice, and gingerbread. Nicely balanced, with shortbread and herbal ripe banana (tarragon and winter mint). And a spice box worth of yeast aromatics: clove-allspice, white pepper, coriander, and even a dusting of cardamom. Creamy but effervescent, with a nice residual sweetness (light brown sugar syrup and honey) despite the attenuation.
De Koninck (Antwerp), Tripel d’Anvers. Famous for their pale ale, the pride of Antwerp also brews an elegant Tripel with all the hops and malt you’d expect from Belgium’s amped up answer to lager: herbal hops and jasmine hovering above spiced brioche and acacia honey, all accented by Belgian yeast (clove-allspice) and a sprinkle of orange zest mingling with banana. Effervescent and minerally, with a smooth bitterness and warming alcohol.
Edelweiss (Linz), Gamsbock. A pleasant surprise from this brewery owned by Brau Union (which is, in turn, controlled by Heineken), and also one of the most affordable on this list. This satisfying orange-bronze Weizenbock conceals its alcohol (7.1% ABV) beneath a comfy malt blanket of banana custard, sugar biscuits, autumn honey, and marzipan. But that’s not the only reason this beer piqued my interest: alongside the coriander, clove, and orange zest notes reminiscent of Witbier, there’s a subtle but beguiling aroma of incense. In short, a unique and complex beer fit for winter.
Freistädter (Freistadt), Black Bock.* A black Bock? I’d never had one, let alone seen one. By the end of the year, though, I had cultivated a tidy forest of empty bottles from this communal brewery in Austria’s Mühlviertel. It’s black, as advertised. Not in that motor oil kind of way, but refined, like black coffee. And oh, those wonderful malt aromas! Schwarzbrot, chocolate milk, a dusting of cocoa over ganache, dried black cherry. Light roasty notes of dark chocolate. A touch of earthiness, licorice-like. And even a hint of blackberry jam over toast. This is the kind of Doppelbock I love: malty, rich, and chocolatey.
Heldbräu (Oberailsfeld), Dunkles Bauernbier. There’s nothing rustic at all about Heldbräu’s unfiltered yet elegant homage to rural brewing. Cinnamon hop spice leavens malty notes of mocha, fresh cream, and Lebkuchen in this taut yet refreshing beer with notes of dried black cherry and a baker’s chocolate bitterness. Blink and you’d almost miss that subtle suggestion of smoked or air-dried meat from the roasted malt.
Hirschbräu (Sonthofen), Der Weisse Hirsch. I’d been on the hunt for this “white hart” since I had it in Berlin fifteen years ago. I finally rousted it in Sonthofen, an Allgäu town in the shadow of the Alps. Hirschbräu’s Weissbier doles out banana custard leavened with plenty of clove, all accented by vanilla and orange zest. Acacia honey and light brown sugar buttress the ensemble. Round and creamy, but also with a classic Weissbier effervescence, this is the beer you’re looking for after a day of hiking in the Alps.
In de Verzekering tegen de Grote Dorst (Payottenland). Fans of geuze and lambic may well be scratching your heads wondering why I included one of Flanders’ most illustrious beer cafes in place of a beer. Simple: Until this past December, I hadn’t managed to visit this tavern in the village of Eizeringen. (It’s open only on Sundays.) So when I got there, I plunged into all those new or re-established lambic brewers and geuze blenderies that had opened their doors in the past seven years. I didn’t get a chance to list the beers from favourite to least favourite in my notebook, so here’s the next best thing: the lambic from Kluysbosch and Sako stood out, as did Lambiek Fabriek’s Pluri-Elle (a geuze with blueberry, raspberry, blackberry, and strawberry).
Innstadt-Bräu (Passau), Weizen. When I see a Weissbier I haven’t had yet, it’s a no-brainer. In the basket it goes. Some Hefeweizens are cut with a kind of citrus or green apple acidity, others are richly textured. Innstadt’s is in the latter camp. Honeyed malt, vanilla bean, and banana custard richness lay down the bass, while a pleasant mix of clove, a suggestion of mint, and a sprinkle of orange zest provide the top notes in this silky beer. There’s even a hint of strawberry toffee in aftertaste.
Irseeer Klosterbräu (Irsee), Urtrunk.* Getting to this opulent monastery in the Allgäu countryside is half the fun. And if you follow the pilgrimage route from Kaufbeuren during spring haying, you’re sure to inhale all those grassy, peppery, and floral fragrances that go into my oft-used descriptors “freshly mown hay” or “meadows in bloom.” Irsee’s Urtrunk, an unfiltered Export-strength beer (5.4%), exudes these aromas in spades. Fragrant meadows, freshly baked country bread, honey, and a dash of pungent and peppery flowers — they’re all aromas of a piece with the surrounding countryside. Tempered by a steely minerality, this dangerously drinkable flavour explosion went down in less than a minute. So did the next one.
Ithaca Beer Co. 20/20 Hindsight Anniversary Ale (2018). I always looked forward to Ithaca Beer Co.’s anniversary releases when I lived in the Finger Lakes region. All featured some sort of twist, and many were the product of mixed/wild fermentation. Their 20th anniversary beer was the last of my IBC beers, and time did it proud. Fermented with Brett and hopped with Galaxy, Mosaic, Citra, and Nelson Sauvin, this lively and complex farmhouse ale sends forth a medley of tropical fruit (a combo of pineapple syrup, sugared mango, and a hint of passion fruit) that shares the stage with rich honey, old hay, white pepper, horse barn, and French apple cider. Tart but not “shiver me timbers” so. Worth seeking out if you can find it.
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Beer Photo Gallery (click on a thumbnail to enlarge)
Kasteel Brouwerij (Izegem), Filou Belgisch Strekenbier. Strong blonde meets Tripel. Spot-on Belgian yeast aromatics (clove-coriander with ripe banana and pear) meld with banana custard, honey, and a dash of vanilla. Round, rich, and smooth on the palate. Very “dessert-like,” despite its high attenuation. A bit like vanilla ice cream with a dash of freshly ground coriander.
Kulturbrauerei (Heidelberg), Scheffels Kräusen. Nomen est omen, but only to an extent with this beer. The name, Kräusen, tells us that this lively unfiltered beer uses a traditional method — the addition of actively fermenting beer — to derive its effervescence. But that’s only the beginning. You might be surprised, as I was, at the fragrance of honeydew melon, orange zest, fir needles, and pepper that jump out of the glass ahead of honeyed malt aromas and bread dough. That’s because this Kräusen beer is dry-hopped with Citra after a hefty hopping with Tettnang in the brew kettle. The result is a playful draught tailor-made for spring days.
Lemke (Berlin), Budike Weisse. Lemke’s lightly tart and refreshingly effervescent Berliner Weisse is as fine an intro to the style as any. Fragrances of French apple cider, pears, spiced apple pie filling, and bread yeast set the stage for this light and playful ale with cheerful peach notes and a gentle, lassi-like tartness. Lemke was among the first breweries in Berlin to dabble in the city’s historic style once dubbed “the Champagne of the North.”
Moor (Bristol), Two Threads Brett. Moor’s “threads” project probes the history of stouts and porters as blended beers made up of young and old ales. Two Threads combines a barrel-aged Brett beer with a “clean” imperial stout to create this complex drop. The sour cherry acidity is subtle, while the leathery “horse barn” Brett notes provide an interesting counterpoint to the cocoa powder, bakers’ chocolate, and black cherry from the imperial stout. This is what I love about places like Muted Horn in Berlin, where I drank Two Threads: You’ll always find something unique, the kinds of beers that challenge our notion of what beer can be.
Neighbourhood Brewing (Penticton), Pursuit Pils. Neighbourhood Brewing happened to be on the way between my parents’ small apartment and the B&B I had found near the shore of Lake Okanagan. I stopped in every evening for a nightcap and zeroed in on their Pils. I hadn’t expected to find a stellar Czech-style Pils in the Okanagan, but here I was, drinking this crisp and hoppy antidote to the summer heat every night.
Põhjala (Tallin), Öö, Imperial Baltic Porter. “A Baltic Porter as dark as the Estonian winter,” reads the label notes. And did they ever get that right. Inky black like a starless night, the kind of darkness that portends a cascade of malty goodness. Mocha, cocoa powder, Schwarzbrot, bakers’ chocolate, burnt caramel, and a hint of BBQ char. And nocturnal notes of licorice and prunes leavened with sassafras and dried cherry. The perfect beer for an evening in Vienna with an ice storm raging outside. Quaffable it’s not, but it’s still dangerously drinkable. And it’s a fine example of what you can do when you focus on beer’s four main ingredients.
Rhanerbräu (Schöntal), 1283 Hell. This sunny beer from a brewery in the northeastern reaches of Bavaria is no show-stopper, but that’s precisely the point of a Helles. This one’s classic, with that fresh country bread richness and lightly honeyed hint of sweetness. When the Zoiglstube in Eslarn was closed, this was the beer that fueled our hikes.
Schlägl Stiftsbrauerei (Aigen-Schlägl), Urquell Märzen. Schlägl brews its Märzen with water from a centuries’ old spring in the Bohemian Woods — hence its name, Urquell. The water passes through primeval layers of granite, yielding soft water that’s ideal for brewing pale lagers. It’s this kind of water that made famous a certain Pilsner brewed 150 km to the north, and the effect here is a smooth yet crisp Austrian Märzen. Fragrances of Alpine meadows, orange zest (that lightly peppery aroma when you scratch the peel), and herbaceous hop notes reminiscent of mint or basil lead the way. White nougat joins the ensemble later, along with honey, crushed malt, and freshly mown hay. (Wondering what an Austrian Märzen is? Check out the podcast I did a few summers back with Beervana’s Jeff Alworth.)
Schneeeule (Berlin), Sandy, fruited Berliner Weisse.* It was one of the first truly warm evenings of late spring, and I spent it talking history and politics with Ulrike Genz and her partner, Peter. We also talked Berliner Weisse and drank more than a few bottles. Made with Sanddornbirne (sea buckthorn), Sandy stood out among those fascinating beers. Sea buckthorn is a shrub with orange berries that are high in vitamins. (All the more reason to drink up!) Genz foraged the berries for Sandy along a riverbank in Brandenburg — quite the undertaking, she recounted — then added them to a Berliner Weisse during secondary fermentation. The result: A light-bodied yet full-flavoured effervescent ale with aromas of stone fruit and blossoms, flavours of peach lassi and sour yellow plum, and a subtle Brett funk.
Schwarze Rose (Mainz), Hoppenworth & Ploch. Brew Noir Coffee Stout. Drinking this beer is like stepping into a vintage shop. Coffee stouts are now decades old, but this equivalent of a vinyl record doesn’t skip a beat. In fact, it’s everything a coffee stout should be — roasty and taut, with a bitter jolt to wake you up. Unsurprisingly, coffee aromas predominate: dark-roast coffee beans, freshly ground coffee, and that green “jalapeno” note that accompanies many coffee stouts. I’m already hooked. But then comes the cascade of aromas that round out the coffee: blackberry jam over toast in the, along with wild raspberry. A touch of sweet char mingling with mocha and burnt caramel. And a scent of licorice in the depths. Of note for hopheads: Schwarze Rose is one of the darlings of the German IPA scene.
Scholar (Göttingen), Magister Pils. Popular with the student crowd, Scholar’s beers are university-themed. The Magister (master’s) is a hazy gold “new school” Pils with peppery orange-citrus hops floating over spring meadows, hay, a light papaya note, and chalky minerality. Residual yeast roundness, a bit like a Zwickl. Clean and crisp, with peppery effervescence and a snappy bitterness. You’ll be inclined to order more than one, which is just fine, especially if you want to forget about that term paper due on Monday.
Sonnen-Bräu (Mürsbach), Hefeweizen. Hefeweizen was the beer that opened my eyes to a world beyond fizzy yellow liquid. But such is the ebb and flow of imbibing that we sometimes pass over our tried-and-trues in favour of something new. Not in 2024, which is why you’ll find a comparatively large number of Weissbiers on this list. Sonnen-Bräu’s Hefeweizen is in the same league as Ayinger, Gutmann, Jakob, Schneider Weisse, and Weihenstephaner. And that’s saying something. Steeped in tradition, Sonnen-Bräu fires its kettles with wood and open-ferments its Weissbier. The latter encourages the development of more intense phenols (clove) and esters (banana). And Sonnen-Bräu’s Hefeweizen is rich in both, a tapestry of ripe banana and elegant clove-allspice underpinned by a pillowy foundation of vanilla-scented honeyed malt.
Störtebeker (Stralsund), Nordik Porter. Störtebeker isn’t afraid to play with our preconceptions surrounding beer styles. Take, for example, this fine-looking ruby-chestnut porter. A Baltic Porter, perhaps, given Störtebeker’s maritime location? No, this majestic beer mingling dark chocolate, Schwarzbrot, cola, nougat, and spice box is actually the Eisbock version (9.1% ABV) of their delicious Starkbier, which is a Doppelbock. The flavours and aromas don’t just stop there in this exquisite beer. Dates and honeyed figs mingling with dried dark cherry. Mocha and ganache. A background hop flavour of Lebkuchen spice sprinkled on lush caramel and honeyed figs. And nimble on the palate.
Störtebeker, Pazifik Ale. A nod to West Coast IPA, but spiced up with wheat and four hops (Comet, Mosaic, Citra, and Topaz) from three continents. A fine beer that blends the fruitiness and juiciness of contemporary IPAs with the focus and crispness of older IPAs. Candied grapefruit zest, peppery tangerine, and toasted pine needles evoke West Coast hops, while passion fruit, peach, pineapple juice, and sugared mango gesture toward hop fields elsewhere. Bitter though it is, the fruity hops take center stage, with just enough toasty and honeyed malt to keep things interesting. Worth noting: Störtebeker brews a wide range of styles, from classic to “craft” to Hansa historical. And what’s not to like about a brewery named after a pirate?
Straßenbräu (Berlin), Sticke Altbier. Berlin’s answer to the Altbiers of Düsseldorf. Copper hued, with rich malt accented by elegant, spicy hops. Schwarzbrot, Leibnitz biscuit, hazelnuts, candied and roasted almonds, with a mist of baking spice floating on top.
Strehern (Eslarn), Zoigl. It took me several years, but I finally made it to the last of the five communal brewing towns of the Oberpfalz. And it was well worth the wait for one of the best Zoigls out there. Zoigl doesn’t fit neatly into any categories, and that’s what folks love about it. Strehern’s Zoigl swirls together honey over toast, milk caramel, and bruschetta with fragrances of freshly mown hay that evoke the fields surrounding Eslarn. And it’s got a zippy bitterness and refreshing quality that compels you to order round upon round.
Struise (Vleteren), Tsjeeses Reserva Belgian X/Mas Ale Port Barrel Aged (2013).* In this year of a thousand beers, Struise’s X/Mas Ale stood out. Simply put, this dark strong beer aged in port barrels is an incredible beer from start to finish. Its modest foam cap and carbonation level belie its eleven years of age. Underneath that sheltering foam cap are dreamy fragrances of fudge, toffee, maple syrup, rum-raisin, malt balls, Spanish fig cake, caramel, ganache, and a whole lot more. Round, rich, creamy. And none the worse for age.
Sudden Death (Lübeck), Fury Along the Pass, Cold IPA. Clean, crisp, and clear as a bell. As its name suggests, Fury is a cloudburst that rains down a fruit basket of peppery tangerine zest, spiced mango, and passion fruit on a spare malt landscape of acacia honey and light brown sugar. It’s a dual-spirited beer, like a Kölsch in its cleanness, and like an American IPA in its fragrant intensity. Hopheads take note: this is only one of dozens of IPAs that Sudden Death has released to critical acclaim.
Thornbridge (Bakewell), Bracia. Bracia is a brooding, inky-black beer infused with chestnut honey from the Alps of northern Italy. It’s also like no other big beer I’ve had. The dark fruit, bitter chocolate, and licorice are all there in this unctuous sipper. So, too, are other wonderfully malty aromas of toasted toffee, salted caramel, hazelnuts with cocoa, and chocolate liqueur underpinning dried dark cherry, plums soaked in liqueur, and anise. It’s expansive, accentuated by dried black cherry and aged sherry (Oloroso meets Pedro Ximenez). But here’s where things get even more interesting. It’s bracingly bitter, like an amaro. And the bitterness lingers, wrapping itself around the licorice, the dried dark fruit, and the raspberry note that emerges out of nowhere. A perfect digestif.
Thornbridge, Wonderland. Chocolate Porter. This jet-black beer certainly lives up to its name. It’s richly chocolatey, a symphony that span chocolate’s gustatory spectrum from bass tones to top notes: milk chocolate, fruity dark chocolate, mocha, cocoa, and also succulent chocolate syrup. Hazelnuts and vanilla join the score mid-beat, with chocolate-covered dark cherry and anise rounding out the harmony.
Vogelbräu (Karlsruhe), Sommerbier (naturtrüb). Hazy straw-yellow like the sky after sunrise, this satisfying rich yet quaffable beer has all the hallmarks of a Zwickl: honeyed malt, freshly mown meadows, peppery orange zest, and a stone fruit minerality. Naturtrüb means unfiltered, which gives the beer its roundness. But there’s also a zippy undertone of bitterness that forms a crisp counterpoint to the bready fullness. A glass of summer sunshine.
Weißbierbrauerei Hopf (Miesbach), Weißer Bock.* Glinting like liquid caramel in the twilight filtering into the Wirtshaus, this harmonious tour de force offers up rich banana custard, brioche, autumn honey, elegant allspice, and a hint of vanilla. Full bodied and peppery-silky, with banana bread and raisin bread against a backdrop of milk caramel, and with an effervescence to keep the residual honey sweetness in check.
Weißbierbrauerei Hopf, Muospacher Bockfotz’n.* Before we get into the wonders of this chai-brown Weizen Doppelbock, a quick lesson on Bavarian idiomatic expressions is in order: Muospach means Miesbach, where the brewery is located, and Fotz’n is Bavarian for Ohrfeige (slap). Fortunately, drinking this beer on New Year’s Eve wasn’t like getting my ears boxed. Instead, the warmth in this beer redolent of crème brûlée, banana custard, Lebkuchen, and chocolate chips is like the gentle heat of a Kachelofen. There’s even a touch of dried dark cherry and a hint of treacle. Rich and creamy, with just enough effervescence peeking through to keep the caramel malt heft in check. Capping it all is a harmonious blend of warm spice aromatics (clove, cinnamon, allspice) fit for snowy nights.
Zötler (Rettenberg), Kellerbier. Perhaps it was the stunning Alpine setting that made this beer taste so good. Or maybe it was the invigorating hike to the Berggasthof Gerstruben above Oberstdorf. Regardless, Zötler’s satisfyingly rich yet crisply bitter Kellerbier underscores why I’m drawn to this style, especially during a hike. It exudes aromas of fresh-cone hops, all pepper and spice. And then there’s that nice minerality with a touch of stone fruit and sulfur. If you’ve ever walked into a brewery’s fermentation room, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Spicy hops jump to the fore on the palate, along with a yeasty roundness, with the country bread and honeyed malt notes content to remain in the background. An Allgäu beer worth the walk!
Zwettler (Zwettl) Kuenringer Festbock. Austrian Heller Bock is usually on the boozy side, but not this festive beer of burnished gold redolent of Central European fruit cake (candied cherries and candied ginger). Honeyed malt, baguette, and marzipan take center stage, with the scent of Alpine meadows and baking spice drifting in from the wings. A pleasant surprise on par with the pale Franconian Bocks I’ve had over the years.
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Beer Photo Gallery (click on a thumbnail to enlarge)
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