Skip to main content

Advent Calendar Window 9 - Julebryg

I'm beginning to question 7.5% as a percentage gravity. It seems a little too common and predictable. Are they sure it's not 7.4% or 7.6% - how is it always 7.5%?
Needless observations aside, Window 9 has a beer I picked up in Belgium assuming it was a Christmas beer based on the term "Jule" in Det Lille Bryggeri's Julebryg 7.5%. Quickly shoving the beer into my basket having never heard of the brewery, I expected to find Det Lille Bryggeri to be a French brewer from Lille. However, as it turns out what we have here is a Danish brewer from the island of Zealand. New to me, whilst I'm not a huge fan of the branding, I like the look of the styles of beers they brew from their website. Discovering a new brewer when judging them at Christmas time seems hardly fair but needs must.
"Oh my love we've had our share of tears
Oh my friends we've had our hopes and fears
Oh my friends it's been a long hard year
But now it's Christmas..."
Bubbling up like champagne over a murky swamp water umber, Julebryg has scents of cherries, caramac and chip shop vinegar. It is initially overpoweringly sweet to taste, with those cherry notes mixed in with all manner of berries and a thick fudge spine. As it sits a tartness overcomes the glass creating a different dimension to this beer, like a warm cherry pie. Grassy hops provide a decent bitter, medium bodied finish that's different without being over complicated. Not exactly Christmas in a glass, but a lovely beer alternative to a Christmas sherry and a new style for me to contemplate. A good little seasonal beer that I would love to pick up a Vintage of some time and would like to see more from this brewery.
Purchased at De Hopduvel, Ghent, November 2013
Drank alongside a chocolate lamb that frowned upon yet another chocolate snowman from Cadbury's. The lamb's bell rang in disgust.


Popular posts from this blog

Children and Dogs in Pubs and Bars

  I once took my niece to the pub. She was either 1 or 2 years of age. I often looked after her on Saturdays and on one of our weekly walks, for the first time, I stopped by the local pub, mainly because my friend was there with his daughter of similar age. The two kids got on well together and it was a lovely couple of hours; a perfect showcase of adult friends and their children existing in public houses. But my sister was furious. She didn’t rant or rave but her lips were purser than a 90s children’s show teacher. It was here that I learned of the effect that our childhood had had upon her. She recalls many an afternoon being bored in the corner of pubs that our Dad had dragged us to, arms folded in the corner with nothing to do, and she doesn’t want the same for her children. The idea of her first born being taken to pubs infuriates her; fearful that they would be subjected to the same unhappy experiences that she was.  I don’t recall those times in the same way as my s

The Ten Pubs That Made Me - Part 3: Dr Okell's / My Foley's Tap House and Leeds

A pint in Mr Foley's Tap House from December 2022     This is Part 3 (the fourth post) of an ongoing project. Please see the beginning of Part 0 for details.    Come the end of this journey, there may be a lesson in procrastination that I am unlikely to heed. These posts stem from a list that I made three years ago and a series that I embarked on 18 months ago. We’ve only now reached a 30% completion rate and with this post we are back to fail for the second time.   This odyssey began with a trip to Mr Foley’s Tap House in February 2022 – named Dr Okell’s bar on my first visits in 2005 – only to discover that it was closed. It did reopen by the time that the post was coming out and I managed a brief visit in December 2022. However, my July 1 st 2023 trip to Leeds, on which this post is based, is met with this sign at the door of the bar:      A quick check of social media shows an Instagram post from the day before (June 30 th ) announcing the closure of the

"They Had Their Issues, So..."

      There’s a set of garages to rent as storage units near my workplace. One of them is taken by a local florist that uses it to store flower arrangements for various events, that are more often than not funerals.   As such, at least once a week at 8am I will pass a car being loaded up with flowers arranged into heart shaped patterns or the letters M U M. It is a grounding reminder that, as I mentally grumble my way through the upcoming arbitrary grievances of my ordinary working day, a group of family and friends locally is going through the hardest time. It provides much needed perspective on days when I could do with being reminded of all that I have to be thankful for.   These little moments explain to me why it is possible for us to share a communal loss when a celebrity passes away. Grief is often a personal and lonely experience, shared between a minority of people in your life. When a co-worker loses a relative or friend, it has little affect on me, bar signing of