Tag Archives: Imperial mild

Tasting Notes: BrewDog Nanny State

Brewdog Nanny StateBrewery: BrewDog
Location: Freserburgh, Scotland
ABV: 1.1%
Version: Bottled
Source: BrewDog

Regular visitors to the beerblogosphere will most likely be familiar with the story of this beer’s creation, but in case you missed it: BrewDog were taken to task by the Portman Group and much of the mainstream media over the strength of their (exquisite, superb) Tokyo* Imperial Stout. In response, they announced the creation of Nanny State, an “Imperial Mild”, weighing in at a mere 1.1% abv but uber-hopped up to an incredible 225 theoretical IBUs (International Bitterness Units – 20-40 or so being the usual for a bitter ale). A gesture of defiance, a deliberate slap in the face of the over-bearing, over-ignorant, over-reactive powers-that-be and a beer that – in its current, young, green state at least – I’m sorry to have to report I thought was unpleasant to the point of being pretty much undrinkable.

There, I’ve said it. An undrinkable beer from Brewdog – not a phrase I ever expected to type on this blog, I have to admit. Largely as a result of BrewDog’s sterling efforts (Hardcore IPA, Punk IPA, Chaos Theory IPA) I’ve learned to love big, hoppy beers; a style I wasn’t anywhere near as keen on this time last year. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I opened my bottle of Nanny State, but based on the last Imperial Mild that BrewDog released – the challengingly bitter but still quite suppable How to Disappear Completely – I think I was expecting a beer I could likewise learn to love after a bottle or two, however viciously ascerbic it might turn out to be.

A faintly rank odour emanated from the bottle when I opened it – not the best omen, but understandable considering the top-heavy hop content – and although the beer poured a pleasantly deep red-brown, my first sip dispelled any notions that this would be one I could even finish, never mind drink again. It was thin to the point of being watery and the flavour was dominated by a vegetative sourness that had more to do with stewed grass clippings than a clean, hoppy-freshness. The overall impression was one of cold coffee. And not ‘cold coffee’ as in “Extra shot mocha frappacino, hold the whipped cream, please”, either. More like “How long has this cup of supermarket own-brand instant been sitting here? Three days? Oh, well, I’m sure it won’t hurt…”

Seriously. It was really, really unpleasant, to the point of being downright nasty. I struggled manfully on for another couple of sips, then headed for the kitchen sink…

Caveat time: this one could have gone off in the bottle, of course. Plus, as I mentioned, it is still a very young beer, and based on Pete Brown’s description (in Hops and Glory) of the way changes in hop-profiles can affect the flavour of beer over time, I’m planning on saving my second bottle (I bought two, just in case) for at least six months, and then I’ll re-sample and re-visit. I have no idea if a 1.1% abv beer will survive six months intact, but it can’t get much more undrinkable than it currently is, so I’m willing to give it a go.

But something about the whole situation is still bugging me and I have questions.
Assuming the bottle I opened hadn’t actually gone off, is Nanny State supposed to taste this bad? And if so, is that a gag too far? I’m a huge fan of BrewDog’s brewing and I enjoy their hugely tongue-in-cheek philosophy. I cheer every time they send a two-fingered salute in the direction of the hypocritically ineffective Portman Group and all the other engines of Nanny State-ism, because it’s fun to see them take the piss out of self-righteous, pompous kill-joys. But surely they shouldn’t also be taking the piss out of their paying customers as well?

By all means, show the Nanny Staters that you can easily brew a small beer that still tastes great (you just choose not to). And yes, if you want to, have a laugh at their expense by brewing something weak but undrinkable just for the publicity of it and then send them all free samples. But in the latter case, where’s the sense in flogging it at £2.50 a shot to your loyal fans and customers at the same time? Has the Punk attitude gone so far that BrewDog have decided they don’t need loyal fans and customers any more?

Brewdog’s own take, back when they first announced the beer, was:

“Nanny State is an extraordinary little beer. It contains more hops than any other beer we have ever brewed. There is over 60 kilos used in our tiny 20HL batch. It contains more hops than any other beer ever brewed in the UK. It has a theoretical IBU of 225. It is jam packed with our favourite hops and already tastes amazing.”

Okay, I guess I’m wrong about the deliberate nastiness. Ah well, chalk it up to my novice palate, perhaps. And anyhow, one bad experience with Nanny State isn’t going to be enough to turn me against BrewDog or their beers – I have half a beer cupboard full of BrewDogs and I’m looking forward to all of them – but I will admit I’m a little less enamoured of them than I was before I opened my bottle of Nanny State. And I’ll be taking their next gimmick-beer with a much bigger pinch of salt.

Nanny State around the Beerblogosphere

  • Barm had better luck with it than me, over at I Might Have a Glass of Beer
  • Mark Dredge came to pretty much the same conclusion as me and says so over at Pencil and Spoon (“…it’s just too bitter to be drinkable and the whole point of a 1.1% beer is for it to be drinkable”).
  • Gunmakers landlord Jeffo wasn’t at all impressed either: “It was dark brown and flat as a witch’s tit. It tastes harsh and astringent. It wasn’t too thin – a surprise – but there wasn’t much else but that unpleasant hop flavour … So, in short, I think this is rubbish.”

Anyone else tried it yet? Please do comment…

Tasting Notes: BrewDog How to Disappear Completely

BrewDog How to Disappear CompletelyBrewery: BrewDog
Loctation: Fraserburgh, Scotland
ABV: 3.5%
Version: Bottled
Source: BrewDog.com

BrewDog are billing their How to Disappear Completely as a ‘Fake-Fix Double IPA’ and an ‘Imperial Mild’ and both are pretty good descriptions. The ABV is relatively low at 3.5% – definitely mild territory – and yet the sheer volume of hops involved in the production of the beer is decidedly IPA. Weighing in at an eye-watering, tongue-scouring 198 theoretical IBUs (International Bitterness Units) compared to 20 – 35 or so for a typical English bitter, How to Disappear Completely is an absolute hop-monster.

If you’re familiar with BrewDog’s own Punk IPA and Chaos Theory – and if you’re not, then a) where have you been? and b) look out for them both in the Sainsbury’s Summer Ale promotion next month – then you’ll probably have an idea of what to expect, but even so, the end product may take you by surprise.

How to Disappear Completely certainly took my missus, Jo, by surprise; one sip earning an immediate WTF-face reaction that was pure comedy gold (sorry, love!) and I can’t say I blame her. Even fore-warned, I was taken aback myself by the sheer ascerbic force of the brew. Flavour-wise it’s probably best described as an acquired taste. Obviously it’s extremely hoppy and incredibly sharp, but there’s still just a hint of maltiness in there somewhere and it has a palate-cleansing freshness that keeps it drinkable.

Definitely one to try if you like your beers positively Saharan, or even if you just fancy trying an IPA-equivalent that won see you flat on your back and singing along with the fairies after a few bottles. I enjoyed the experience myself (good job, too, as I have another two bottles to look forward to) and I might even end up adding it to my beer-cupboard roster on a regular basis, along with Punk IPA. I’ve normally got a pretty definite malt-tooth, but How to Disappear Completely offers a massive contrast for those times when I feel like something a bit different.