So, Dunkel. An perennially underloved style over here, despite the recent upswing in interest in lagered beers, this is where you should look if you like the smooth clean lines of German brewing, but want a little more character. Darker and maltier than the pale lagered beers (Dunkel translates as German for "dark") you usually see. There is some divergence within the style, but you can expect something amber-to-dark-brown with the delightful body that Munich malt gives a beer. Alongside that colour is a gentle sweetness reminiscent of darker sugars balanced by fairly discreet hopping. The malt character here bridges everything from hearty brown bread, toast, biscuits, sugars and caramel light to dark, liquorice, cocoa and coffee. Don't be afraid of those latter flavours, this isn't porter or stout and those elements will be subtle, not dominant.

It makes the English race to the bottom when the big breweries moved to keg fifty or sixty years ago all the sadder, as Dunkel could almost be the path we didn't travel. Imagine top quality best bitters, brown ales, winter warmers or ESB translated into a German idiom, rather than the horror of Watney's Red Barrel et al. that CAMRA was brought into existence to rage against. Point is, this is drinking beer par excellence. Here are two examples we are very happy to be stocking for our current Oktoberfest doings:

Firstly, the Augustiner. Purveyor of an impeccable Lagerbier Hell, not to mention their Edelstoff and Oktoberfestbier, the brewery are what you might consider well-established, claiming roots back to 1328. With that history, you won't be surprised that they are an operation that does things properly. As such, their Dunkel is clean, classic and eminently drinkable.

A deep copper in the glass, the nose is fairly understated, but hints at malty bread, smooth dark sugars and a touch of herbal German hops. It drinks delightfully smoothly - growing layers of Demerara sugar, granary loaf, toffee, hints of cocoa and a balanced bitterness. The finish is clean, a delicate bitterness holding out over immediate sweet notes, before fading out to a backnote of dry caramel that invites another sip. For all that this description might make it sound rich, the body is light for the colour and strength (5.6%) and, in the grand German tradition, incredibly drinkable - I'd knocked through half the glass before I realised that I should be taking notes!
​
The second offering comes from Schönramer. Less well known over here, and with a mere two and a half centuries of experience, they've a deeply loyal following for their beers, which adhere rigorously to the edicts of quality and purity that the Bavarians have somehow read into the Reinheitsgebot, a glorified bit of weights and measures regulation. Part of the respect in which they are held is due to the quiet attention to detail and exacting standards of their brewmaster Eric Toft, a rare American brewer to be held in high regard by his German peers. If you see their Pils or Hell around, rest assured that it's the good stuff.

Slightly darker than Augustiner's Dunkel, the Schönramer has a ruby-chestnut hue in the glass, with a lovely polished clarity. The nose is slightly sweeter, with hints of cinder toffee. It drinks, again, deeply easily - the body is lighter than expected, edging you effortlessly towards the promised toffee notes, with dark caramel, a tweak of liquorice and and some cocoa notes coming in over the expected wholemeal bread malt base. It finishes comparatively dry, with a beautifully judged bitterness that naturally leads to the next mouthful.

Five Points are, by the novelty-addicted sugar-rush standards of the craft scene, a reassuring presence. They’ve been about since the heady days of 2013 and one of their lovely, warm, minimal labels says now, as it always has - “I don’t have to worry that this is going to be anything less than solid.” This might sound like I’m edging into faint praise, but in a brewing scene as delighted by novelty as ours can be, consistent quality should be applauded.

While their Best is also available in cask (and you can rest assured that you’ll enjoy it on draught), the bottled variant is a slightly different beast. We’ve currently got in the version hopped with Fuggles, a grand and storied hop that has, unfairly, fallen out of fashion.

Anyhow, you can expect to pour out a half litre of polished beer that glows a light, burnished copper, with a fine white head. The carbonation is a little higher than the cask variant, but still fine and gentle enough not to obscure subtleties. The body is lighter than you might think and crisp, with malt shading from biscuit to toffee, all a little honeyed. Hops, as mentioned before, are classic fuggles - coppery, a touch of mint-led herbal notes, some spice and a little earthiness. It has a clean finish, with the residual malt sweetness intertwined with a balanced bitterness that compels another sip.

As you might be guessing, we’re in recognisably classic bitter territory, and all the better for it. That said, it’s a little cleaner and brighter with that additional carbonation, making for a deeply refreshing drop this summer.. Should the heat and humidity be getting to you, a bottle of Best might just be the cure for what ails you.

Goes excellently with pizza (in this case an nduja/pepperoni and aubergine/parmesan split, if you were wondering).

I mean, really well.

I had intended to start talking about Burnt Mill (founded a few years ago in rural Suffolk, early hype status has translated into consistently excellent beer, with a confident touch on the hazy numbers) for context, maybe throw in an anecdote for interest and then reel you in with the tasting notes, but then I cracked open the can to go with a takeout pizza on a too-hot Sunday evening and was transported.

Given how fast it's selling, go grab one pronto, and then have it with slice of something good in the summer gloaming, just as temperatures are approaching bearable.

Oh, you actually want to know what it tastes of before sourcing some? Hmm, well, ok...
Dank notes, lemon/pineapple aromas.
Weed, citrus, hints of gooseberry and elderflower,  on a soft, but not heavy, body where the soft malt merges delightfully with melon and grape. A well-judged light bitterness comes in at the end, emerging from that earlier dankness. Repeat sips a necessity.

Balances well at the colder end of the normal drinking temperature range, so don't be abashed about having it straight from a cold fridge. As you might have guessed, pairs well with hearty food, like, I don't know, pizza?

Pastore are an outfit hailing from the famously hilly landscape of Cambridgeshire, second only to Flanders' vertiginous horizons. They're new to me, and focus on mixed-fermentation and sour beers, with some interesting winemaker collaborations and a recent brew with the similarly minded, and generally excellent, Little Earth Project.

Whilst fruited sours are delightful when done well, they also tend to be pretty straightforward - depending on the strength and what's added, you usually have an idea of what you'll get. Pastore have neatly upended such presumptions by switching out a standard ale yeast for the current brewing hotness, a kveik strain. Kveik is a loose family of yeasts unified mainly by the fact they've been harvested from Norwegian farmers' traditional brewing cultures. They've all sorts of unexpected properties, but as certain strains add lovely soft and tropical fruit notes, you see them being used in hazy IPAs (look up Lars Marius Garshol's blog - https://www.garshol.priv.no/blog/ - and accompanying book for a better explanation).

So, at the very least, this adds an element of surprise to my drink, but how is it? Well, it pours a soft, almost glowing, opaque purple-pink, with a white fluffy head that succumbs quickly.
The nose is both recognisably a fruited kettle sour, with fresh, lush blackcurrants and a tart edge, but there's a whole other element in there - almost beetroot sherbet - and hints of blueberry and a coppery note.

To drink, it feels remarkably full-bodied for its strength (4.3%) and acidity, with a decent carbonation keeping it spritzy. The fruit is immediately apparent, with a big hit of freshly picked blackcurrants rather than Ribena, but other elements come through - very ripe apricot, slightly underripe peach, watermelon, gooseberry and, at the finish, that beetroot hint comes through again as an earthy note. The lactobacillus culture gives you a lovely coolness, gooseberry fool on a hot day, and the finish is dry with a hint of raspberry pips.

I'm worried that my description might make it all sound a bit disco, but this is a really delightful spin on something that was getting a bit too familiar. Kveik has occasionally just been used as a gimmick or for the novelty, but here it adds a marvelous extra dimension.

Now, I'm just jealous that I've not been able to try out the Passionfruit and guava version the Folkestone branch had on tap...

Those of you who have been into The Beer Shop on a few occasions will have most certainly have met our long standing beer pourer, Richard Davie. He joined us in 2015, not long after we opened, so it's ridiculous to think that it's taken nearly six years for both parties to realise that his beer knowledge, excellent palate and writing skills would be put to pretty good use in a beer blog!

Every few weeks Richard will delve into a beer of his choice from our range and then share his thoughts right here on this blog.

So, whilst most of the posts here will be written by Richard, every now and again myself or Lee might have something to say so we'll try to make that clear. Although, to be fair, I think our writing style will give it away... 

Anyway, we are delighted to introduce Richard, and look forward to sharing his words about beer with you.

Cheers!
Lauren & Lee