O’Hara’s Irish Stout (4.3%)

As tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day, meaning that much Irish stout will be consumed, I figured that today is as good a time as any to get something off my chest. It relates to a myopia that affects even seasoned craft beer snobs and is, to me, a somewhat bizarre miscomprehension.

Because the fact is that Guinness is not even close to as good as many people think it is.

It was, at one point, a pretty good stout. Indeed, in the case of the old bottle-conditioned quarts that were once ubiquitous in proper pubs throughout Ireland, but the production of which was discontinued around the turn of the millennium, it was a great stout.

But whether on tap or in the can, Guinness is sadly no longer great. In fact, it’s barely even good.

Beer aficionados, however, tend to give it a pass because of the slight roasted malt character it still manages to express, even if that is but a fraction of what it once had. They cite it as a good go-to when nothing particularly good is on a bar’s taps, as if bottled beer or a decent wine or whisky, or lovely gin and tonic, are not also alternatives. Or they point out that it’s a more flavourful beer that is approachable for mainstream lager drinkers, implying that being dull enough that even a Coors Light drinker can enjoy it is some sort of positive attribute.

But you know what really is a very good, pretty widely available Irish stout? O’Hara’s, and if it’s a beer you do not know, you should take pains to change that this St. Paddy’s Day.

Packaged in a nitro can for the cascading foam pour, just like Guinness, it pours black, like Guinness, with a thick collar of creamy foam, also like Guinness. But that is where the similarities end.

To my mind, these days Guinness doesn’t taste like much of anything, especially at the very cold temperature it is served at in many, perhaps most North American bars and pubs. O’Hara’s, on the other hand, has a lovely and roasty dark chocolate aroma, accented by notes of medium roast coffee, hints of anise, and even a faint touch of cooked vanilla. Just a whiff of its dry complexity is enough to get you salivating.

The palate entry is predictably creamy, a function of the nitro widget in the can, with a mocha-flavoured custard quality, hints of burnt cream, and just a suggestion of sweet black licorice. On the mid-palate, coffee and chocolate flavours combine in a delightfully drying character that adds complexity with a slightly earthy hop character and hints of dark raisins. The finish dries completely, leaving a lightly bitter, dark roast coffee and high cocoa content chocolate taste lingering.

It takes a bold brewery to emerge out of nowhere and challenge the might of Diageo-owned Guinness, not to mention the more minor weight of Heineken-owned Beamish and Murphy’s, but thankfully that’s precisely what Carlow Brewing did when it opened in 1996. And with its thirtieth anniversary on the horizon, I am equally glad that it has persisted, indeed thrived, for so long, reminding drinkers of how an Irish stout is supposed to taste.

88 ($3.75/ 440 ml)