As an aside, now I will discuss the beer scene in Ireland. One of our stops in Dublin, obviously, was the Guinness Storehouse, a giant Disneyland of history for any aficionado of The Black Stuff. It may be Diageo now and they may be making a dozen different brews, but the iconic Irish dry stout is still mother’s milk to millions of fans around the world, myself included. So here’s my first blockbuster revelation of the trip:
(glances around furtively, whispers) It wasn’t that different.
Guinness in Ireland is like Cuban cigars: the quality threshold is a lot higher, and you’re more likely to get the good stuff, but if you know what to look for in the States – that is, a place that goes through a LOT of Guinness, sells it as fast as they get it in and keeps it impeccably with a good nitrogen system and clean lines and knows how to pull a proper pint – the experience is almost as good. The 4P’s did this, and I can vouch for a place or two around here. Nevertheless, my first pint of Guinness was drunk in the Gravity Bar at the top of the Storehouse with a 360-degree view of Dublin’s fair city. The experience alone made it remarkable. Thing is, in Ireland, you’ll get a five-star pint almost everywhere you go, and if it isn’t, it’ll be a four-star pint, whereas in the US, you have to scuffle some to find a four-star pint. But it can be done.
A little more about the beers of Ireland. I mentioned earlier that Guinness is on two taps if not three everywhere. Smithwick’s Red, with a different logo, is almost everywhere, and many if not most places also had their newer blond and pale ales. Carlsberg was the most pervasive lager, with Heineken a close second, but a lot of places were selling Guinness’s new Hop House 13 lager – which was rich and flavorful and better than most lagers I’ve ever had, and was a perfect accompaniment to fish and chips. Bulmers (sold as Magners abroad) was the universal cider, on tap most anywhere. The only American beer with any penetration, shockingly, was Coors Light, which brings us to the next point:
Irish beer isn’t generally all that strong.
This is the whole point, to be honest. Guinness is 4.2% ABV. Smithwicks is around 4.5%. Coors Light, as it happens, is around 4.2. When you drink beer in 20 ounce servings, 7% ABV American IPAs turn into a ballbreaker pretty quickly. The various craft beers I tried – like the delightful Buried At Sea milk stout by Galway Bay Brewing Company – were all around 4% ABV, as are the other dry stouts in the Cork area like Murphy’s and Beamish (both owned by Heineken now). Beers like that, sold in the 10 oz “just a glass” size (aka the Cheeky Half) are perfect for a quick bend of the elbow.
Ireland also knows how to balance an IPA. The hops are sharp and flavorful, piney and citrus, without overwhelming the malt of the beer or being too bitter to sip. The Galway Hooker (it’s a fishing boat, you perverts) session IPA is crisp and refreshing, not a stunt beverage with a ridiculous IBU count. Franciscan Well in Cork or Sullivan’s in Kilkenny will brew you a red ale that tastes like the best of autumn in a glass. And I did find Kilkenny Cream Ale, which I’ve now only had in two pubs ever: one in Kilkenny and one in Sunnyvale. But more on that later.
The thing that saved me, though, was Guinness Mid-Strength. It looks like Guinness, but it’s only 2.8% ABV. I spotted it on the taps at the Merry Ploughboy, locked in and tried it, and it turned out to taste exactly like Guinness tastes after you’ve already had eight pints of Guinness. I had been warned not to keep pace with one of our Irish compatriots, and rightly so as it turned out – but thanks to the Mid-Strength, I did it, and got home at 1 AM just fine and up and out the next morning without harm. And then, looking at Wikipedia, I saw that “Guinness Mid-Strength was test-marketed in Limerick and Dublin from 2008.” I don’t think that tap would be there if you went back today. I think God or Loki or St Brigid or someone put it there to protect me that night, and I am thoroughly grateful.
The moral of the whole thing is that on this trip, by various instruments, I re-learned that you can have a whole Imperial pint of a flavorful beer that you pull at slowly for an hour and a half and be just fine. I intend to pursue this at home with my 20 oz Yeti tumbler and a jug of the brown ale from the local brewpub, because Ireland has figured out how to drink smart and drink well. Now if only I could find a pub around here with a flagstone floor and an open fireplace and live traditional music and a comfy chair…