Review: McChouffe

Brasserie d'Achouffe
Draught
8.00% ABV

It was destined to be drunk. I’d already seen its gnome logo waving and winking at me from the back of the bar. Lurking beyond all the other hand pumps and beneath a wonky blackboard acclaiming its Ardennes origins, its Scottish influence and its ‘premium’ price. But it was that Sunday night that fate took my hand, pushed into my pocket and pulled out £1.90. For a half.

I was innocently wandering home after an evening visiting parents. Meandering towards an empty house and a re-heated meal for one when my brain remembered that it likes beer. Perhaps a pint and quick peruse of the otherwise un-crumpled paper in my pocket could be the salve for my jaded soul? No, I must go home.

That is when my iPod shuffled me up an American ale podcast. I can’t remember which one, there are so many, and they burble away in the background ranking pints of West Coast IPA by their life-threatening IBUs. But for once the podcasting pair caught my ear as they were talking about my pub-flirtation - the McChouffe.

And they praised, they fawned and they mewed. Superlatives gushed into my ear like Stephen Fry Reads Roget: Chapter 19: Track 244: Sublime. Clearly these two knew rather a lot about beer and the brewing process, but this was bordering on the fulsome. First ‘prunes and strawberry jam’ were mentioned then ‘peat smoke, fruit and flowers’ were added to the mix. Soon it became a cavalcade of ‘heavenly glows’ and ‘maple syrup’. Finally ‘potpourri appeared as a supporting player on the outside of the tongue’ with ‘sweet unroasted barley’.

It seemed to go with everything too. From fried chicken to soy sauce or bread pudding and crème brûlée, you could drink it with anything and anyone. And yet my steely resolve remained unbent as I strode past the open pub door and into the darkness beyond. That was until I saw two long-lost former co-workers coming the other way. Serendipity, chance, design - call it what you want but fate had patted me down for small change and I followed them inside.

And what about this ambrosial ale, the much talked about Mc Chouffe? Well, it was nice. The sweetness was soft and sugary, the malt had a touch of nuttiness to it and there was also a hint of chocolate richness. There might have been a little dried fruit too.

Now obviously it wasn’t worth the hype, nothing could ever be. But it did confirm four fundamental truths:

1. A lot of Belgian beer is crushingly over-rated.
2. Never trust American podcasts on the subject of Belgian beers that are influenced by sweet Scottish ales.
3. Tartan trousers might suit gnomes as much as they suit Johnny Lydon, but gnomes have more dignity.
4. If God exists, he/she is dead from the tastebuds down.