Innis and Gunn have been steadily expanding their range of barrel-aged beers in the last few years. I've never been a great fan of the too-sweet Original beer in the range, but some of the specials have had a pleasant twist. The brewery sent me through a few samples; I was keen on finding out whether they could deliver a spirited finish beyond their initial sweetness.

The 6% Blonde pushed its way out of the fridge first. Now, I'm sceptical about beers that promise subtle fruity nuances whilst at the same time insisting on being served chilled. The vanilla was more to the fore here than in the Original, albeit delivering clean oak notes rather than a sweet-toothed muddle. A reasonable malt base maintained the flavour, though any hop lift was lost through the chill. There were some soft citric notes in there, but the vanilla sweetness outweighed them as the beer warmed. As a standalone beer, it didn't really stand out - but (too late) I thought it could have make for a great dessert-course beer, perhaps something caramel-laden or a good 'n chunky rice pudding.

At 7.4%, the Rum Cask Finish sounds like a beer to be enjoyed with cheese & crackers & repeats of Top Gear in front of a roaring fire. But out of the fridge, I feared it would be too cold to enjoy in such a manner. The temperature wasn't the issue, though - the sweetness and washy rum reminded me of a badly-made cocktail. Rather than warming in a spicy fashion, the rum finish seemed to have stripped the cask of astringency and delivered it alongside a dollop of sugar into the bottle. Too heavy-handed for me.

So it was with a little trepidation that I reached for the Canadian Cask version. But I was glad that I did. Seventy-one days in an unspecified Canadian whisky cask seems to have worked wonders - or perhaps it was the addition of malted rye that gave it some gorgeous toffee and raisin notes. The vanilla sweetness was suppressed, the malts balanced finer, the oak notes supportive rather than smothering. Easily the most accomplished and balanced Innis & Gunn beer I've tried.

The only downside here is that the Canadian Cask version was a limited export-only edition. Bugger. The others are available in Sainsburys, so at least I can try the Blonde again the next time I fancy a beer to go alongside a creme caramel.

Thanks to Innis & Gunn for the samples. >

It's Ash Wednesday, I'm ready for a beer and I need to give up something for Lent. After due consideration, I've decided to give up pancakes, so I better enjoy the batter while I can. And splash some ale into the pan at the same time.



My darling mother-in-law fed me a bellyfull of pancakes yesterday so I'm ready again for a plate of crepe-related goodness: you can't have enough of it in your life, can you? A quick trawl of the tinternet for beery pancake recipes brought up a couple of possibilities; the Black Sheep batter looked interesting though I wasn't too sure about the Greene King version.

But as luck would have it, that rock n rolla beer n food blogger Mark Dredge had some great pancake ideas over on his site, Pencil & Spoon. So I hatched a plan; make up a batch of batter using Mark's recipe, try them with a couple of beers and then make another batch using the beers themselves.

Mark recommended several beers to try and, by sheer luck, I had a couple of them to hand; a Great Divide Yeti Imperial Stout that I picked up a few weeks ago and a bottle of Innis & Gunn Oak Aged that a PR agency had just mailed to me. First off, a batch of pancakes.

I can't remember the last time I made pancakes, so this was going to end with either a tasty batch of goodness or a fiery pan of death. So I was more than surprised when the first one ended up all crispy and moist and tasty. Superb with a squeeze of lemon and a hefty pinch of sugar. And with the Innis & Gunn?

Better than I expected, to be honest. I'm sceptical about beers that hint at sweet complexity but insist on being served 'well chilled'. In this case, it worked; the honey, toffee notes of the beer worked well with the sharpness of lemon and the palate-softening pancake.

How would the pancakes fair with the Great Divide Yeti? I was unsure; the dirty tan head and matt black body belied an unseemly hoppy feel. Yes, there was freshly cracked dark chocolate and cold coffee in there, but the hops kept bouncing back. Against the pancake, mind, it worked surprisingly well. At first. Liked the initial coffeeness - if you've ever gorged yourself at breakfast on a stack of pancakes and as many coffee refills as the waitress will serve before she lamps you, you know how the inside of your mouth feels just wonderful - but that creeping bitterness needed a gum-wincing sugar sprinkle to even begin the balancing act.

Then there was the pancake-beer batter. I never convinced myself that the Yeti batter would work. In fact, it wasn't bad - better around the crispy edges than the rather blobby middle, coffee flavours came to the fore, but the beer unbalanced the dish.

The Innis & Gunn batter, though, was a revelation. That nutty/honey sweetness shone through with just enough alcohol still lurking. Even Mrs Reluctant preferred this pancake to the all-milk version.

So: Yeti is a great beer to drink after pancakes, Innis & Gunn is a great beer to put into pancakes. And pancakes at home are lovely but not as good as when a top-heavy blonde brings you a full stack with blueberries and as much steaming Java as your lower colon can take.
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