BrewDogging #2; Cult Lager

It's not the bastard son of Dean Friedman. It's the too-close country cousin of Hop Rocker. Cult Lager took what Hop Rocker started and buggered it up. Gone are the delicate flowers. Instead we have cardboardy malts. All rather wet, if you know what I mean (if you don't , mail me and I'll send you a diagram). Some redeeming and unexpected spice - my tasting was rather tardy in respect to its best before date, which may explain that.

But when it warmed a little, there was a four-minute window when the sweetness and light malt almost worked. Before it sluiced off down the path and joined the crap supermarket lager brigade, busy scrawling obscenities on the bins with marker pens.

Cult doesn't give lager a bad name. But it does make inappropriate gestures.