Beer – #205 – Wychwood -WychCraft
Continuing my English beer redux – the Wychwood WychCraft, Brewed by Wychwood (Marstons plc) in the style of a Golden Ale/Blond Ale and that be in Witney, England, possible the middle of no-where Oxfordshire.
What’s clear is that having lived in England for half my life I never went anywhere 🙂
A pale golden potion with delicate red hues, WychCraft has a heady burst of fresh citrus aroma derived from three infusions of Styrian golding hops. A sprig of gentle warming malty flavour finishes with a dry biscuit note and a counterpoise of bitterness. WychCraft’s innovative new recipe includes adding three infusions of Styrian Goldings hops to the copper, to create a highly aromatic brew, bursting with succulent citrus and lime hop character. A light base of delicately flavoured English Fuggles hops, and the use of a lager malt, help retain the signature hop character and create a wonderfully aromatic and fragrant summertime beer. Beguiling to the end.
Or lets talk a lot and then you’ll be bored and just grateful to get to the drink. A brewer who’s more into himself than the output?
500ml of a .5% ABV beer, around and a bouts 2.3 stand drink units.
This has the same dull metallic aroma that other English Beers have, the bready yeasty thing. I checked, yes I did, now, not before I brought it. 31st October as a best before date. Get in! 🙂
Pale Golden rrange with a sort of finger of head, and you can get a whole noseful of the same yeasty aroma, I don’t know as much as this is an English thing. It seem to be a theme. The head as it was has left he building.
There is a serious sour under-note to this. Enough to make me talk aloud and MrsPdubyah to ask if I’d cut myself.
So sour like a Belgium Blonde beer, check. . . . . . . . . and . . . . . .. well. . . . . . . and nothing. What the deuce! It has that sourness that you might like\enjoy\expect with a Blonde beer (Belgium Beer Style) the kicker for the alcohol in the back. But this is just sour without. A new thing.
Recap then: Bready yeast upfront \ Sour underneath \ thin\ no length and no aroma.
Almost a review of the potent England Football Team.
The pdubyah-o-meter says 3. Avoid.
There is possibly nothing sadder than a whistfull remembrance of things past than a tribute shop, and Union Jacks is that, where do I go when I’ve left England to get things I got in England, the shallow end of things, the tastes, the familiar packets of gravy granules and packets of biscuits. Beer that for a good reason has been packed for export.
Off to sit in a corner and write lines.
A life just as ordinary 