Drinking You (Down)Under the Table

A Comparison of Three Australian Ales

I can't with honesty say it's my search for fine craft beer that's landed me in Australia; but in finding myself in Sydney, it's my love of suds that has me searching for fine Aussie craft brews. As if trying to find a new job and support myself in the most expensive city in the world weren't hard enough, finding Australian pale ales that don't pale in comparison to their American counterparts is dampening my Down Under spirits. Today, I'd like to review three craft pale ales from three emerging breweries here in Australia. Admittedly, these are the more accessible ales, but for any Australian brew-newcomers, let this serve as a welcome guide.

There are a few things to remember about beer in Australia...

1. Australians like to drink. A lot. Damn near a sport, it's as omnipresent as cricket, footy, and surfing, and they do it just as often, often at the same time. This means that quantity counts. Like the general American beer ethos, quantity often trumps quality.
2. For a colony of ex-convicts and exiles of Britain, Oz maintains many social connections with the UK. "Mind the gap," is a common slogan around the rail systems, not to mention the conspicuously positioned Union Jack. Unfortunately, similarities come through in the brew process as well, notably in the general disregard for copious hops and alcohol content. (5.0% ABV is considered strong. Someone needs to introduce these blokes to DIPAs!)
3. EVERYTHING is expensive in Australia. Like, another pint, another mortgage expensive. (For that matter, the 3rd 1/2 thing you need to know is Australia doesn't have pints, but schooners: the slightly belittled little brother of what most of us are used to.) This tends to reify otherwise unforgivable choices at the bottle shops, aka liquor stores, aka Loan Sharks.

Oi! On top the Ales!

That being said, not all Aussie beers are bad. With a rare few, you can happily wet your palate, even if it doesn't go to your head.

Photo: twistcap.wordpress.com

Fat Yak: 3.5 stars. 

Fuller taste and crisp mouthfeel. Slightly hoppy, but fairly light compared to American-style ales. Nice finish, but ultimately forgettable.

I stole this from a website. I forget which.

Coopers: 2 stars (2.5 if on tap). 

Coopers' strong point is that it's a kosher, non-additive, non-preservative ale, but the downfall is it simply doesn't do well out of the bottle. This means anywhere further than Papua New Guinea, Australia's nearest neighbour, is going to really taste the shipping degradation. Rolling it, like you're to do a Shock Top (beer-friends, please pardon the blasphemy), to excite the sediment is a recommended trick, but, like Shock Top's approach, just a trick. The real key, however, is to have on draft, where it's allowed to be more palatable. This Coopers ad actually sums the taste up very accurately. Hey, at least they're honest.

Photo: Drunken Speculation

James Squire - One Fifty Tales: 3 stars

Slightly lighter in colour than Fat Yak, darker than the Coopers contemporary. Sticking to the de facto practice, the hops remain illusive, though perhaps not so much to a more tender tongue.

More Australian pale ales exist out there, ones harder to find at the local pub. I'm especially eager to try Little Creatures What's more is that culture must be taken into account when sampling the local flare, no matter where your travels take you. Ten years ago you'd have an impossible time convincing me that America had any beer worth drinking. As my palate evolved, I used to say, "Left Hand Nitro Milk Stout is my favourite American beer," the inclusion of "American" accentuating my erstwhile opinion. Now, I'm pretty well convinced the rest of the world is in dire need of stepping up its game. Belgium has perfected Doubels, Tripels, and the oh-so-lovely-if-done-well Quadrupel. Germany has got the lagers and bachs down to a T. America does ales, taking the invention of Britain and making it better. But that's just my humble opinion. Take that of the Twist Cap author (though, it's hard to take twist caps seriously, isn't it?). 

Samuel Adams Boston Lager is the worst beer I have tasted to date. I tried this beer on Saturday night at a bar in The Valley, and I struggled to finish it while tapping down some notes on my phone.

This beer has an almost sickly sweet maraschino cherry smell and a single distinct flavour that stings the back of your tongue.

Mate, that stinging in the back of your tongue is called bitterness; it's the taste hops make. Learn to like it, it will change your life for the bitter better. I say this in full confidence, being a disliker of Sam Adams beer in general. But Oz lagers, as well as the typical American ones, wouldn't hurt from taking a few tips.

My suggestion to anyone planning a visit Down Under is to err away from the beer. Explore new avenues. Like wine, or abstinence. If you want an alcoholic beverage, wait until happy hour or buy all the necessary ingredients to concoct a little wind down or pre-game yourself. But obviously sometimes one just wants to sample the local offerings. To which I suggest: wait a few weeks, until I've found a job and saved enough money to do the dirty work for you.

Next post, I sample porters. Stay tuned. In the mean time, get dehydrated.