Too Smooth with a Galway Hooker

We have loads of good Irish beers to write about (more than you could shake a shillelaugh at) -- but rather than start at the beginning (of our time in Ireland, that is), let's flash back all the way to last weekend. Jenny and I spent it in and around Galway (ostensibly for the launch of my program's anthology), but of course we sampled a couple new brews while we were there.

In all honesty, we were too busy flying hawks and leaning over cliffs to spend much time in the pub our first three days in the west. However, after a harrowing day of driving Mario-Kart style (invincibility star included...ie full insurance), Thursday evening called for a pre-dinner relaxation. We popped into Richardson's on the north-east corner of Eyre Square, and I ordered a beer I'd never heard of before -- a Caledonia Smooth.

I asked the bartender if it was a local brew, and he had no idea. One of the fellers (let's just call them regulars...so regular they could help themselves to drinks and crisps) at the bar sounded off pretty quickly that it must be Scottish because of the name, but no one (granted, there were all of six people in the building, and two of them were us) knew much of anything about the beer. It came in a handsome enough glass, one side lightly etched and the other side with a touch of gold leaf, and the clear ale certainly had a pleasing mellow tan look to it (the kind of tan women long for in a new pair of springtime loafers).

We sat in our little nook and I eagerly sipped the beer (I opted for a hot whiskey hoping to raise my temperature and lower my blood pressure). The beer was, as advertised, smooth... too smooth. (You mean like a baby's bottom or a bald guy's forehead?) The posters around the pub which advertised this particular brew pitched it as "triple hopped," and there may well be three kinds of hops in this beer. There's just not any significant amount of any of them. I'm no hophead (isn't that what they all say?), but I appreciate the snap that they add to the back end of a good beer. The flavor on the front of the tongue was crisp and hinted at warmth (much like a date with a bank teller), but the taste going down was flat, watery, and disappointing (yeah, that's what she said). My particular glass was cool, and I wondered if the taste might grow richer as the ale warmed -- after all, most ales aren't meant to be chilled. Yet we sat there for an hour, and the beer hardly raised a temperature. I almost wonder if the glass was made to hold the cold. I'll be fair -- the flavors became slightly more noticeable as my tongue acclimated to the liquid (kinda like insisting on holding your tongue to the prongs of a 9-volt battery), so that the swallow was not quite so bland. But it was still nothing remarkable. I suspected at the time that maybe this was a beer made to appeal to the masses: enough flavor to be different from the usual Irish offerings, but weak enough to be inoffensive to most (Oh, like the Labor Party, says our Irish friend Katie).

My post-trip research proved that I wasn't wrong. The beer was made to seem craft-brewed (a disturbing if not at all shocking trend in brewing -- the big boys pretending to be craft is happening all over the place), but is really made by the same folks who produce Bulmer's, the ubiquitous cider. That is to say, it's not exactly made by two people risking their day-jobs to follow their passion. (It's what I'm labeling a "glamour-craft." A crummy beer disguised as craft, but made and distributed by a multi-million dollar company to trick the craft beer lovers and supporters.)

Caledonia is currently only available in Ireland (and only since about March of this year), though it is made in Glasgow (guess that barfly did know something after all--besides where the crisps were stashed). It's brewed to appeal to the 28-44 age group who want a better session beer -- and based on the language from Bulmer's Director of Marketing, this beer was indeed made to be middle-of-the-road: not too gassy or too flat, not too bitter or too sweet. They were actually looking to brew a beer "somewhere in the middle" -- which to me means it may not be anyone's favorite, but it certainly won't be anyone's least favorite (Oh, like Ron Paul?).

Now that I read that again, this beer sounds like many politicians (he says before I've snarked this post--amazing!). And it may work well for marketing (or running for Congress! Vote Caledonia 2013) -- just like so many politicians manage to get elected -- but it's not what I want in a beer (yes, but would you have a beer with...oh...hey, wait a sec...).

Saturday evening after our book launch proved to be at least a bit more interesting. To celebrate, my lovely Jenny decided to treat me to a Hooker of my very own (I'm a firm believer in positive reinforcement!). I think everyone else in the group was averse to trying a Hooker (in their defense, they are grad students), but I'm learning that most people are pretty bland in their tastes and their experiences, unwilling to branch out into the unfamiliar (again, in their defense: grad students). Why give up what's comfy and familiar for a Hooker that might not go down so well (or more than once)? Whereas my attitude is that you don't know how a Hooker'll work for you until you try one (or four).

In Galway, Hookers always stand out -- they're so much taller than all the other options, top-heavy and nicely tapered. I don't remember the name of the place where we all went after dinner (not the alcohol's fault -- I never knew the name) , but the band was playing decent covers of John Cougar Mellencamp and we were all cozy in one dark-wooden corner near the stage and no one seemed bothered by my enjoying the Hooker. There's not many feelings quite like celebrating on an evening out, one arm around your lady and your lips to a Hooker. When I finished, I saw that everyone else was still enjoying themselves, so I got greedy and opted for a second Hooker -- Jenny didn't treat me this time, it was all up to me (like I said, positive reinforcement). Unfortunately, by the time I returned, I realized that everyone else had moved on to their glasses of water and were preparing to pack it in before heading to some other part of town. So I had to rush -- and the slow pleasure was ruined by having to pound my second Hooker so quickly.

Okay, I've had my fun -- Galway Hooker seems to be one of the better-known craft breweries in Ireland, though we were disappointed to find that it's actually brewed in Roscommon, not Galway, so we weren't able to visit the brewery itself on this trip. It's named for a famous type of ship that traditionally sailed out of Galway, not for nightwalkers at all (though the brewers certainly have fun with the name, too). And... I have to be honest, the Hooker isn't for me. It's better than a lot of the usual options in an Irish bar, if only because it's made locally, freshly, and doesn't have all the chemicals and preservatives. But think about it: it's a Pale Ale served in a Hefeweizen-style glass (what's that, like Brittney Spears in a chautauqua show?)... and that's sort of the combination of the taste, too. It tends to carry a nice, frothy (if not too thick) head, and has a good range of flavors to look for. But the particular combination of hoppy-and-fruity just doesn't quite cut it for me. (Jenny's had bad after-the-fact luck with this beer, too, though my system didn't seem to have trouble with it that night or the next morning.) (He's being polite, but I'd pull out my soapbox on this issue in a heartbeat! Not enough talk or time or effort goes into the serious prevention of bad-beer farts. Note where that hyphen is, people. Bad beers cause bad-beer farts, and well, friends don't let friends suffer the Dutch-oven rumblers! And another thing -- oh, Zach's telling me I have to put my soapbox away now...sigh.) 

Boy, does it feel good to be posting about beer again. We'll have to do a post soon on our favorite Dublin brewpub... but gee, to refresh my memory on all nine or ten of their beers, we might have to conduct some refreshing refresher research...