Here I am, on the road again, blogging from the phone. Technically I’m actually on the sea, somewhere over the Cook Straight, but y’know.
Back to last night though, when I was still at Dad’s place in Wellington. I had this Coronado IPA – and it’s about bloody time, because I’ve already mentioned it in at least four posts before this one.
The first time I had this it was at Galbraith’s on tap, and I was so taken with it’s luscious fruit and intense caramel that I declared it the best IPA I’d ever tasted.
I’ve had it a few times since then, and while it’s always been delicious, it’s never quite lived up to the legendary status of that first one. Funny how that happens so often.
Last night it was the same. It poured a lovely colour, and smelled of juicy grapefruit, pineapple, pine and melted marshmallow.
In the mouth there was loads of caramel upfront, but at the back of the palate it turned bitter – which is where I don’t like it so much. It was an orange seed, pine needle bitterness, and it lingered forever in the mouth.
As Kjetil, the Nogne O brewer said the other day “at the end of a beer you should want to drink another one” (or something like that), and with this one the harsh bitter finish meant I didn’t.
I was pondering this, and the fact that it impressed me less than it had the first time, and I wondered if (dare I say it), my love of uber-hoppy IPAs might not actually be waning a bit.
And on that cliffhanger ending (“Has she fallen out of love with IPAs? If so who for?”), I leave to disembark at Picton – gateway to the Land of Craft Beer. Uh oh.