So many of you* have written in to ask how this beer turned out, that it’d be a public disservice if I didn’t write this review.
And god knows it’s nice to hear from people from time-to-time. Very often blogging is like casting pearls to the wind; and people, that’s one mixed metaphor you certainly won’t have heard before.
(*alright, so it was actually two people: Dan and Simon…but I was very happy to hear from them all the same…)
Anyway. Here is the post about making the Grapefruit IPA:
Annoyingly, the half keg of it I had kicked half-way through a barbecue, so I had to break out some very nicely-aged Brett Pale Ale instead . The rest was bottled – which are way more “fridgeable” than the corny keg.
The Grapefruit IPA arrives in a glass with a fearful chill-haze; but, hey, it’s an American-style IPA and they’re always hazy so everyone wins.
The head is magnificently retentive and that’s down to the wheat malt (as is, probably, the chill haze…)
Bear in mind, that because it’s 7.7% it has to be served cold, and there’s no two ways about it: warm it’s like Gold Label (Barley Wine) from the days of yore. Cold: it’s refreshing, fruity, zesty and suicidally drinkable.
There’s more than enough aroma, which is all West Coast hops with not so much dankness, but more of the fruitiness and juiciness that I was looking for.
It’s a big old taste, with lashings of warming alcohol, fruity hops and a solid bitterness – after that comes a wave of fairly pokey citrus ‘n’ grapefruit.
All-in-all, it’s just what I was hoping for. It runs the Ballast point Grapefruit Sculpin pretty close – and on that basis alone, I’m happy.
Honestly, it’s the best beer I’ve made this year; and do you know what? I might end up adding citrus zest to all of my hoppy beers – as the hops fade the zest takes over and seems to elongate the sensation of hoppiness.
Again, as with some of my other beery efforts, those who have tried it have offered to buy it in quantity. But I couldn’t do that… the thought of the excise men battering down my door in the middle of the night leaves me cold and clammy.
God, I wish very small-batch brewers (i.e. under a barrel – 117Litres per month) were allowed to flog their beer like the cider farmers can.
I’d only sell to make a tiny profit, meaning the rest covered the cost of ingredients and electrics.
Essentially it would mean that I’d be able to do more of what I enjoy, and that’s making lots of beer and have people buy, drink and enjoy it.