Tag Archives: Beer drinking Kaliningrad

German Recipe Beer in Kaliningrad

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 16: German Recipe

Published: 25 October 2021 ~ German Recipe Beer in Kaliningrad

On 26 April 2021, purely in the interests of writing these reviews and not because I have a drink problem ~ our local shop is well stocked with beers, is only a short walk away and is the same distance coming back, so no problem there ~ I wrote about Czech Recipe beer from Russian brewers, Lipetskpivo.

Finding it to be a zesty, hoppy beer with a refreshing aftertaste, I decided to improve my geographical knowledge by unscrewing the top on its sister beer, German Recipe. Disappointed that the 1.3 litre bottle did not come with a free moustache or the original helmet worn by the Kaiser, nevertheless, I was not deterred. There is something so German about drinking German beer or a beer with a German name in an old German house in Königsberg, and, although I was not expecting the taste to be earth-shattering, as I had enjoyed its sister so much, not to drink it would be bunkers.

I had already swotted up on the background of its brewery and the claims its brewers were making. They say that in 2005 the brewery underwent a large-scale modernisation programme and that, with the assistance of technologists from other parts of the world, they were able to fine tune their production to meet world-quality standards. An important end result from this investment was that it allowed them to produce beers to a microbiological excellence that negated the need to include all of the preservative gubbins often required for extending shelf-life, which, let’s not be coy about this, can only be a good thing.

My one wish is that I could find a way to extend my shelf life, but as I was drinking German Recipe in 2021, not August of 1944, at least I could drink with the relative confidence that, unless history was about to repeat itself, I would not have to grab my bottle and glass and hurry off to the shelter.

German Recipe Beer in Kaliningrad

So, settled in the attic, I ‘cocked a deaf ‘un’ to the air-raid sirens, which, thankfully, I was not around to hear 77 years ago, and boldly unscrewed the cap. No sooner had I done so than a strong whiff gave vent to the air. It was malty, peaty and definitely robust.

Putting the gas mask away, as it did nothing for my Tootal cravat or ties, I braced myself for the penultimate moment of truth and poured the liquid into my glass and then held it up to the light. Yes, I realise that this was inexcusably pretentious of me, but you must understand that in the UK real-ale devotees always do this sort of thing to elevate themselves in their own minds, whether at bar or at beer festival ~ particularly at beer festivals. Fortunately, after three or four pints they are forced to drop the ritual, partly because of alcohol-induced amnesia and also because by this time and quantity, they can no longer tell their glass from their elbow, and even if they could they are in no stable condition to prosecute the pretension further for fear of falling over. This, of course, is not the reason why I only hold my first glass of beer up toward the light, and then quickly leave it at that.

Anyway, drinking sensibly, as they say, having noted a light-brown haziness looking like the mist lifting slowly above the Curonian Lagoon, and a good dissolving head ~ beer drinkers get a lot of those, especially in the mornings ~ I went for the ultimate test: the first sip.

German Recipe Beer in Kaliningrad

The first thing I noticed from the first sip about this ‘German beer’ brewed in Russia was (shock, it’s Germanisation!) that the smell was stronger than the taste. This differential did not phase me, as the second and third sip were like ‘papers please’, and this brew had all its credentials. In fact, it could not have been more convincing had I been drinking it with my QR code tattooed on my buttock. Nothing counterfeit here! This German was surprisingly bright and fragrant (I once worked with someone like that; he was as bright and fragrant as a rainbow.) and, just like its Czech sister, was well zesty with a refreshing finish.

The after taste, and here I really mean the after-after taste, mirrored its appearance in the glass: it was a little bit clingy. It reminded me of the type of women whom I never knew but thought I would meet one day as I had often seen them in films.

With an OG of 4.7%, I felt confident that if I drank a couple of bottles I would not be clinging on to things to keep myself upright, except for the glass itself, which proved to me by the end of the session that my palate must have approved.

To be a little picky ~ I said ‘picky’ ~ after my third pint It did occur to me that the clinginess was becoming a trifle galvanised, and I hoped it would not go further so that the roof of my mouth would feel as if I’d been drinking Anderson Shelter. But the apprehension passed almost as swiftly as a low flying Messerschmidt and, before you could say the end of the war, I knew that I had enjoyed it.

So, thumbs up and chocks away. Buy a bottle of German today.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: German Recipe
Brewer: Lipetskpivo
Where it is brewed: Lipetsk, Russia
Bottle capacity: 1.3 litre
Strength: 4.7%
Price: It cost me about 165 roubles (£1.72)
Appearance: Mid-amber
Aroma: Full bodied, hoppy and malty
Taste: Fragrant, bright
Fizz amplitude: 7/10
Label/Marketing: Suitably Germanic
Would you buy it again? I have done
Marks out of 10: 6

*Note that the beers that feature in this review series only include bottled beer types that are routinely sold through supermarket outlets and in no way reflect the variety of beer and/or quality available in Kaliningrad from speciality outlets and/or through bars and restaurants.

Czech Recipe Beer in Kaliningrad

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 13: Czech Recipe Beer

Published: 26 April 2021

Hitler may have referred to England as a nation of shopkeepers, but back in the day when England was England, before it became what it is today (R.I.P. England), I, and many of my contemporaries, considered England to be not only a nation of beer drinkers, but the nation of beer drinkers. So, it might surprise you to learn that it is in fact Czechoslovakia that holds the official title of being the most beer-sodden country in the world.

According to official beer-drinking records, the boozy Czechs knock back more beer per capita than anybody else, anywhere else. But take heart dear Brits! As beer in Czechoslovakia is, like everywhere else on the opposite side of the Channel, lager, and in Czechoslovakia dominated by Pilsner lager, we Brits can still claim with pride and satisfaction that the UK is the only country in the world in which two great institutions, real ale and the public house, have come together over the centuries to form a unique drinking culture. (Spirit-lifting background music of ‘Real Ale Britannia, Real Ale rules the craves, thanks to Fox and Farage Brits will never be PC slaves!’)

“Good evening landlord, a pint of Farage please.”

“Would that be a pint of ‘Farage Best He Made Them Bitter’ or a pint of ‘Farage Patriot’?”

But we are not here today to talk about national institutions, history and how the unholy trinity, Politics~Globalism~Pandemic-scare, are out to eradicate them, or to dwell forlornly on poor cold, wet and shivering Brits sitting in pub beer gardens six feet apart from one another sipping ale through a useless mask. No, we are here today, in the here and now, to consider the merits/demerits of a Russian beer known as Czech Recipe. Whether the recipe is Czech or simply called Czech Recipe, as Czechs and beer go together like volume and ringing cash registers, I will leave to your discretion.

Nowhere near as exciting by name as Farage’s ‘EU Looking at Me!’ bitter, or BLM’s ‘Churchill Still Stands’ jet-black porter, Czech Recipe might sound like a cake mix, which comes in a bottle just short of 1.5 litres, has a green label and the name in olde worlde script, but contrarily this light, filtered, live beer produced by the Lipetsk brewery is quite a tasty brew.

Green in colour, until you take the top off the bottle and pour it into your glass, Czech Recipe has a pale golden hue, a faint aroma of no particular kind (so forget about all those pretentious beer reviews that compare it to Elton John’s piano, with ‘notes’ of this and ‘notes’ of that) and a foamy head that could not recede faster were it wearing a loose-fitting toupée.

Sip ~ it’s zesty.

Sip ~ it’s tangy.

Gulp ~ it’s crisp.

Gulp gone ~ it is very refreshing …

Czech Recipe is all these things, and it is also 4.7%.

The aftertaste, which is so important whatever beer you are quaffing, because it is this that keeps you quaffing, is dry. In fact, it is very dry. ‘Nuts!’ you say, and you are right. The dry, crisp aftertaste is what makes it the perfect complement to nuts and other snacks. It teases the palate, without raping it, and offers a flirtatious relationship free from guilt ~ even though it is not real ale. It is, in fact, the sort of Czech you could easily take home to meet your mum. Strong to a degree but, as Leonard Cohen sang (I don’t know whether he drank it?) ‘It’s light, light enough to let it go …’

Czech Recipe Beer in Kaliningrad

The world’s perception of Czech beer is Pilsner and, since I am no great fan of Pilsner, I get all suspicious and cautious about buying it. Usually, I will stand there in the shop staring at it, thinking ‘dare I’? Czech Recipe could have been a recipe for a taste disaster, but it bucked the trend (yes, I have spelt it right) and once sampled left me feeling as happy as a pig in … a large grass field.

A lot of the beers that I have been drinking in Kaliningrad ~ not that I have been drinking a lot, you understand, it’s just an expression ~ is much stronger than the 4.2 percent I would normally go for was I drinking in England (voice in the two and six pennies, “Yeah, leave it out …!”). But, I have found that often the lighter strength beers here are light on taste and flavour, and you need to buy something with a bit more welly to compensate (same voice, “Strewth, I’ve ‘eard it all now!”).

Czech Recipe fills the gap in the market and fills it nicely. It is a reasonably strong beer, but one that is more concerned with delivering taste than with blowing your pants and socks off ~ and that’s fine by me, for the last thing that I want is to be left standing there with a Czech in my hand wearing nothing but my cravat.

Well, my bars nearly open, so note the essentials below, put your trainers on and hot foot it down to the shop. Buy yourself some of the Recipe and see for yourself.

If my appraisal is wrong, I’ll let you buy me a bottle.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Czech Recipe
Brewer: Lipetsk Brewery
Where it is brewed: Lipetsk, Russia
Bottle capacity: 1.42 litres
Strength: 4.7%
Price: It cost me about 147 rubles (£1.41)
Appearance: Pale golden
Aroma: I haven’t decided
Taste: Zesty, refreshing, hoppy with dry aftertaste
Fizz amplitude: 6/10
Label/Marketing: Old School
Would you buy it again? I have done
Marks out of 10: 6.5+

>>>>>>>The Lipetsk Brewery Russia

Lifting the bridge on Leningradskoe beer

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 12: Leningradskoe

Published: 29 March 2021 ~ Lifting the bridge on Leningradskoe beer

Over the past few weeks, I have been playing it safe. Whenever I have had ‘the ‘ankerings’, as my old East London friend used to call the acute desire for beer, I have gone for something tried, tested and approved, which in my case has been Lidskae and Ostmark. But what’s life without a bit of diversity (not too much, mind; look what it’s done to the UK!)?

Lifting the bridge on Leningradskoe beer

You don’t drink the label but, as with all that we consume, appearance and packaging is everything. The same rule applies whether you are shopping in the supermarket for pasta or shopping in your local nightclub. Being a lover of the past, it is not surprising that I usually go for beers the bottles of which are labelled as though they belong in the archives of a library’s historic records section or carry a typeface and/or image that speaks of the quality of things that were and which can never be again.

On this drinking occasion, a few weeks ago, I chose something that on first consideration might seem to go against the selective criteria grain, inasmuch as the branding has a stark, cold, metallic-feel about it, but, if you look again, you will see that the purchase compulsion was inspired in much the same way as it was when I chose Gold Mine beer. In fact, if you compare the labels of the two products the dissimilarities are insignificant. Both incorporate cool blue, white and gold colours and both favour cityscape skylines, silhouettes picked out by a mystical luminosity, somewhere between the aegis of dusk and dawn.

Then I was talking about Gold Mine beer; here I am referring to the beer Leningradskoe. In the case of the latter, the imagery concerns itself with Leniningrad, an open river bridge set against the domes and spires of St Petersburg (formerly Leningrad, after it was St Petersburg ~ if you know what I mean?). So, although it is not a million years ago, the historical connection still holds true. I suppose the attraction lies in the disequilibrium, the nearness and distance evoked by the reversing memory of the Soviet Union.

Lifting the bridge on Leningradskoe beer

So, purchase compulsion explained, let’s get down to the drinking of it.

The initial aroma is one of strong corn, in other words it is grainy rather than anything else. It arrives in the glass looking like Gold Mine’s long, lost brother ~ bright and golden. The head fizzes, rises to an inch but dissolves rather smartishly, leaving just a trace ~ a little bit like a lifting draw bridge: up one minute and down the next. The beer’s carbonation does not, from its appearance within the glass, have an overwhelming disposition, but there is sufficient of it to ensure that it holds up the relatively low flavour, rather like a pair of 1940s’ braces. In fact, I suspect that it is the carbonation that keeps the body of the beer afloat, the cunning adjunct that delivers the touch-of-bitter taste which sets it apart from bog-standard lager.

The aftertaste is not strong, but it is palatable, becoming more so after the initial twang has died. To my mind, and tastebuds, it is this feature, two pints later, that most distinguishes and recommends it. In the last analysis, it is a kind of half-way house, occupying a surprising place somewhere between keg bitter and lager, and because in its earlier stages it is clear and crisp, although I was drinking it on the outskirts of winter, in the midst of a nice summer’s day, whilst sitting back in the garden watching your wife do the weeding, I anticipate that it would be cool ~ as cool as the label suggests ~ and also rather refreshing.

So, whilst you are buying your wife a trowel in preparation for summer, don’t forget to treat yourself to a bottle of Leningradskoe. You know, if nobody else does, that you deserve it!

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Leningradskoe
Brewer: Baltika Breweries
Where it is brewed: St Petersburg
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.7%
Price: It cost me about 137 rubles (£1.32)
Appearance: Pale golden
Aroma: Strong corn
Taste: Hybrid lager & keg bitter with satisfying after taste
Fizz amplitude: 5/10
Label/Marketing: Soviet
Would you buy it again? Would do
Marks out of 10: 6

Oak & Hoop Beer in Kaliningrad

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 11: Oak & Hoop beer

Published: 31 January 2021

I developed a taste for beer when I was about 14 years old, about the time that they turned a blind eye to my age and began to let me through the doors of the village local. Some might say that is a very tender age to be supping and that I should be ashamed of myself, but, of course, I am not. The one thing I have learnt, or subscribed to, as I approach the senior years of my life is that there is nothing so true as the philosophical adage, ‘live life whilst you are young’. I know this to be the touchstone of our brief earthly existence because now that I am older I cannot drink half as much beer as I could when I should not have been drinking it. Ahh, happy days: vitals in their unsullied prime and Courage Tavern on tap. It was “What your right arm’s for”, or so went the advertising slogan, possibly to remind those pub-going blokes back in the 1970s that it was not just something with a fist on the end that you threw after several pints.

But we must leave reminiscences of real pubs, real men and the days of pre-real ale to focus on the latest addition to my bottled beers of Kaliningrad review, which today features another one of those offerings served up in squat dumpy bottles.

All of the beers in this series of reviews are available through general supermarkets, and this is no exception.

Oak & Hoop Beer in Kaliningrad

Oak & Hoop beer comes from the same brewery, the Trisosensky Plant, from which the beer Soft Barley derives, which was the subject of my previous review, and, as with the previous review, I have only good things to say.

First off, you’ve just got to love the advertising. Not only a small plastic beer barrel, but one adorned with a crafted piece of card attached to the pouring top and draped Mason’s apron style from head to toe. The alluring impression is instantaneously craft beer. A crafted piece of card craftily cut and composed to convince the consumer that what lies within is craft. The image of mallet, barrel and stool, all in wood, naturally, with vintage-leaning display type and mellow beer-brown colours all contribute handsomely to the presentation, promise and promotion of a traditional, quality beverage. Oh, and lookee here, notice the awards attained, signified by the august presence of three gold medallions.

I had to buy it. I had to drink it. I liked it.

NOTE: More information on the brewery in my previous article Soft Barley beer in Kaliningrad

I deduced from the first nasal observation a seductive compilation enticingly in favour of roasted malts and caramel, which corresponded perfectly with my long-standing prejudice for brews whilst though they may not be ales as such yet display certain defining characteristics making them more akin to ale than their pallid pilsner counterparts, for which I make no secret of courting less than great affection.

But we are not here to sniff it. We will leave that pleasure for wine drinkers and let them spit it out.

**Award-winning Oak & Hoop beer in Kaliningrad, Russia**

As first tastes go, there was no doubt in my mind that I had spent my 147 rubles wisely. The caramel and malt bouquet delivered the taste promised by the aroma. Rounded and mellow with just a hint of bitterness, the sweet incipience gives way to a dry, satisfying, lingering taste, the parity of which makes strange bedfellows out of any critical notion that the two could live apart.

This subtle liaison discreetly belies its AVG manliness, which, at 4.9%, packs a not unreasonable clout, but then let’s not be bashful, it’s what your right arms for.

Oak & Hoop Beer in Kaliningrad

If I have learnt anything about beer it is that the first likeable sip does not necessarily equate in taste to love at first sight; you may like, you may love, or imagine you do, but if it be love that willingly takes you happily to the end of the glass, then be sure that it will be lust that brings you back for more.

We are continually reminded, bordello fashion, that pleasures in life have to be paid for, and the pleasure of Oak & Hoop is worth every penny and every ruble, so go for it before you get too old!

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Oak & Hoop
Brewer: Trisosensky brewery
Where it is brewed: Ulyanovsk and Dimitrovgrad, Russia
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.9%
Price: It cost me about 137 rubles (£1.32)
Appearance: Pale golden
Aroma: Hops & caramel
Taste: Subtle, attractive blend of sweet & dry with caramel
Fizz amplitude: 5/10
Label/Marketing: Traditional
Would you buy it again? I intend to.
Marks out of 10: 9

NOTE: More information on the brewery in my previous article Soft Barley beer in Kaliningrad

Soft Barley beer in Kaliningrad Russia

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 10: Soft Barley beer

Published: 14 December 2020

None of us want to be told that we are going soft, do we? But, unless you are one of these old-fashioned he-men who pumps weights, never cries and walk around as if their arms don’t fit, there is nothing wrong with a little bit of mellowness, when the mood so takes you, which is not why I chose Soft Barley as the latest in a succession of bottled beers widely available through Kaliningrad supermarkets as an aid to my research.

Among the all-shapes-and-sizes 1.5 litre beer bottles that congregate enticingly on Kaliningrad’s shop shelves, the ones that really stand out from the crowd are, in fact, the simplest. They are squat, fat, dumpy-looking things, shaped purposefully to resemble small beer barrels. They are to beer advertising what Body Shop is to shampoos and body lotions, their simple packaging and minimalist presentation emphasising good, natural, salt-of-the-earth products, free from artificial additives: Nature’s best at its best.

When all’s said and done, that’s quite a gob full to live up to and, whilst the advertising works a treat, the question is does the product fulfil the promise?

Soft Barley beer in Kaliningrad Russia

Soft Barley has a soft natural label ~ note the ears of corn ~ and when you take the top off the bottle what do you get? Sniff! Sniff! Nothing really. Unless I am losing my sense of smell (no, let’s rephrase that symptom quickly!) ~ unless my olfactory senses deceive me, there is no distinctive aroma other than, perhaps, a faintly discernible ‘softness’.

When poured, this underwhelming neutrality does not escape from the glass. The beer fizzes, an ephemeral head appears, retreats and then dissolves. This is only depressing if you like ‘a big creamy ‘ed on your pint’, but I am not from Yorkshire, so I don’t.

Nevertheless, from the first sip to the last the taste is consistently palatable. There are no sharp notes to undermine the ‘soft’, as in subtle, and almost any corn bitterness is reduced to a hint, playing second fiddle to the rounded buttery overtones.

This beer is not, by Russian standards, a strong brew; if it was, I suppose they would have called it ‘Strong Barley’, but neither at 4.2% is it limp-wristed. It has just enough bottle, taste and flavour to make it the perfect complement to light snacks and ‘bitings’, an à la carte beer which speaks to me of warm summer afternoons, picnic tables and straw hats, although, being a bit of a renegade, I can close my ears and carry on drinking it until the snow has melted.

Aficionados and advocates of seriously head-banging beers may well pour scorn upon your choice, but pour scorn is not poor corn and drinking Soft Barley does not mean that you are going soft, just that you have a soft spot for the finer beers in life.

ABOUT THE BREWERY
The Trisosensky brewery has a proud and noble brewing history, its origins dating to 1888. Its name comes from the three great pine trees on the idyllic lakeside spot where it was founded by the merchant family Markov.

One of the first Russian breweries to produce beer using European technology, the quality of its products quickly established the company’s reputation at home and facilitated expansion into the export market.

The brewery’s Black, Pilsen, Czech and Vienna beers were particularly held in high regard, so much so that in 1910 the brewery was honoured with the official title ‘Supplier to the Court of His Imperial Majesty’.

Although the Ulyanovsk brewery was assimilated more recently into the company, its brewing history actually pre-dates that of Trisosensky, when Alexander Dmitrievich Sachkov, an honorary citizen of the city of Simbirsk, founded his honey brewery at Ulyanovsk in 1862.

Today, the Trisosensky brewery prides itself on the historic continuity of its classic brewing techniques, brewing traditional beers to traditional recipes using natural ingredients and talented brewers.

Its efforts have garnered it various prestigious awards including: the World Beer Awards; the International Beer Challenge; Gold Awards, the DLG Quality Test for Beer and Mixed Beer Beverages, Frankfurt am Main, 2016; Monde Selection 2017 awards; and awards in the ‘International Tasting Competition’, The Beer Awards 2017.

Soft Barley beer in Kaliningrad Russia

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Soft Barley
Brewer: Trisosensky brewery
Where it is brewed: Ulyanovsk, Russia
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.2%
Price: It cost me about 127 rubles (£1.31)
Appearance: Pale golden
Aroma: Very nearly silent
Taste: Lightly bitter, mellow, buttery
Fizz amplitude: 6/10
Label/Marketing: Naturalistic
Would you buy it again? I would and I have.
Marks out of 10: 8

Ostmark Beer in Kaliningrad is Top Quality

Top Marks for Ostmark

Published: 15 October 2020 ~ Ostmark Beer in Kaliningrad is Top Quality

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 8: Ostmark Strong

My previous review of bottled beer in Kaliningrad, sampled from the brands that can be purchased every day from most supermarkets, was written on 2 September 2020. I could claim that I have not written anything about beer since 2 September 2020 since that is the last time that I had a bottle, but that would be about as believable, not to say as ridiculous, as declaring that I voted to remain in the European Union.

Mick’s Place (aka, Mick’s Attic Bar) has been functioning as normal, but I have drunk elsewhere ~ on the outside seating areas of various bars and hotels and at friends’ houses ~ calculating that as the dark days of winter approach, with them cometh more grim coronavirus news and consequent restrictions, all of which will mean more Attic Bar and less drinking on location.

So, what have I been drinking at home, and have I enjoyed it?

Out of the beers that I have sampled so far, the Belarus beer Lidskae Aksamitnae is my beer of choice. In fact, I would go so far as to say that it wins hands down. Nevertheless, if you were to ask me, and I am sure you will, have I discovered another beer that in taste and quality equals Lidskae Aksamitnae then I would have to say yes ~ and that beer is Ostmark.

Ostmark beer in Kaliningrad

Now, as far as I can tell there are several popular variants of Ostmark. The one that is the subject of my reverence, however, is Ostmark Strong, the ABV (Alcohol by Volume) of which comes in at a not insignificant 7.1%.

I do not buy beers for their strength and, as a matter of fact, when I drink real ale in the UK I usually choose something that is within the range of 4–4.2%. I am happy with that. But Ostmark Strong appeals to me because, whilst it may be a strong-by-alcohol-content beer, it is also strong on taste.

The first test for any beer is the olfactory one. Ostmark Strong has a strong aroma. It hits you as soon as you take the top from the bottle. There is nothing limp-wristed about this brew. It is deep, dark and smokey. If it could wear tattoos, it would be the kind that real men wore, not the arty-farty slate-grey type that are everywhere today and to which even women resort to violate their bodies, as if forgetting that they and their tats will not stay young forever. Alas, for the fleeting fads of fashion and the relentless indifference of the march of time …

Ostmark beer in Kaliningrad

But enough of this idle banter! Into the glass with Ostmark, and what have you got?

You’ve got a dark-coloured beer that settles nicely into the bacal (glass) and whose head does not immediately die, but neither does it sit on top like a foaming ice cream sundae.

The first sip is yummy. It is so yummy that I have to take several more before I can ask myself, flavour? Its caramel and malts, plus a good toasty aftertaste, the type of aftertaste best described as moreish. And this is not an insuperable problem, because once you have finished one glass you can simply pour another.

Ostmark Strong has a good strong label ~ no wishy-washy rainbow colours here! Dark brown, deep red and silver tones complement each other. The design is simple, instantly recognisable and carries with it the hallmark of history.

Ostmark beer in Kaliningrad

Now, Ostmark made its debut in 1910 and was originally brewed in Königsberg, which was, of course, Kaliningrad’s predecessor, but be that as it may, and for all my love for Königsberg, as I had no knowledge of Ostmark’s pedigree when first I purchased and quaffed it, I refute any implication that my judgement may have been swayed by where it was born and when. But, since its history is no longer the mystery that it was when I started out, it would be remiss of me if I did not mention that Ostmark was first brewed at the Brauerei Ostmark Brewery and that after passing through various hands is now produced by the Heineken Group.

Rumour has it that throughout its change of ownership the brew retained its original recipe, and we who love beer and history have no contention with that. But as to where it is brewed today, I am not at liberty to say, because in October 2016 the trail runs cold. It was then that Heineken announced that come the following year its Kaliningrad brewery would close.

Some folk here in Kaliningrad who I have interviewed swear ~ usually at me ~ that Ostmark is still brewed here, and in the same brewery where it has always been brewed, that is here in the city of Kaliningrad, but some say otherwise, others don’t know and still others don’t seem to care, they just buy it and then they drink it.

As Ostmark is not a phantom, as phantoms as a rule do not come with hangovers, wherever Ostmark is secretly brewed I can recommend it, so much so that as I sit here reviewing it, I can honestly say that I would rather be sitting here drinking it.

A word of warning to the uncautious, however: The enticing taste and session-like character of this very fine quality beer belies its superior strength. “Everything in moderation, including moderation,” said Oscar Wilde. And who can doubt his wisdom? But how much of a good thing is too much? Until you try it, you will never know.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Ostmark Strong
Brewer: Heineken Group
Where it is brewed: Somewhere
Bottle capacity: 1.35 litres
Strength: 7.1%
Price: It cost me about 136 rubles (£1.36) from our local shop
Appearance: Darky
Aroma: Divinely smoky
Taste: Subtle blend of caramel & malts with an after allegiance
Fizz amplitude: 4/10
Label/Marketing: Just so right
Would you buy it again? As soon as the opportunity arises (update February 2022 ~ bought many times!)
Marks out of 10: 8.5

Ostmark Beer in Kaliningrad

Baltika 3 in Kaliningrad

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Published: 2 September 2020

Article 7: Baltika 3

It is, alas, customary for reviewers of almost anything these days that when confronted with something that they judge negatively to pan the product/experience with such acidity that you might well suspect that they own a moped and live somewhere like Streatham.

Subscribing to the modern misconception that recourse to expletives is the new humour rather than a substitute for lack thereof, these would-be social-media wits ‘gobshite’ it out as if there was no tomorrow, when the real pity is that that they were with us yesterday and are still with us today.

With this misfortune in mind, I shall, like the true English gentleman that I aspire to be, exercise restraint when I say that so far Baltika 3 is, in my opinion, not the best beer that I have drunk since coming to Kaliningrad.

“You don’t want to drink that,” snorted an acquaintance of ours, whilst driving us to the seaside, “It’s traction oil!!”

I used to work in publishing so, naturally, I never believe anything I read or anything anybody says, so when next I went to the supermarket to buy a bottle of beer, what did I do? Exactly, I bought Baltika.

First off, I did not like the bottle, well, not the bottle exactly, rather the label design. It said ‘Baltika 3’, which we will not carp about because that is what it is, but the shimmering blue and steel silver hues made me wonder if the graphic designers had not filched their ‘modern’ look from a motor vehicle advert.

I thought, “this is going to be very metallic, like that other lager ~ how does the advert go? ‘Possibly the nastiest and most metallic lager in the world’”.

It wasn’t. But guess who it is brewed by?

I took the cap off, mainly because I have not yet found an easier way to get to the contents of a bottle ~ as I have said, the bottle was fine ~ and took a poser’s sniff. Even if I had not smelt it before, and I had, because I used to work with heavy-plant machinery, I would recognise traction oil. It would not be fair to say that it did smell like this, but I struggled to determine what it did smell like.

I poured my premiere sample into an old Soviet bacal ~ a dimpled glass tankard ~ recently acquired, and tentatively, and with great trepidation, took my inaugural sip!

Not wanting to be scathing, the beer I had drunk previously, Lidskae Aksamitnae, had been so delectable that the inferior flavour of Baltika 3 could have suffered a severe case of amplification in consequence.

Being the nice chap that I am, I am willing to give Baltika 3 the benefit of this doubt. But I still cannot believe that Baltika is Russia’s most popular beer, and that this claim is out there. In 2018, Baltika 3 Classic received the silver medal in the Pilsner category of the British International Beer Challenge, so not all of my fellow countrymen agree with me on this one.

All I can say is, and all I am willing to say is, that if Baltika 3 is anything to go by, I dread to think what the higher numbers of Baltika beer are like.

I suppose the only way to find out is to drink them.

Life, as they say, is a lottery!

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Baltika 3
Brewer: Carlsberg Group
Where it is brewed: St Petersburg, Russia
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.8%
Price: It cost me about 160 rubles (£1.62)
Appearance: Pale to light brown
Aroma: Barley malt (I think)
Taste: I am still working on it
Fizz amplitude: 7/10
Label/Marketing: Modernistic
Would you buy it again? I would drink it if it was bought for me

Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer in Kaliningrad

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Published: 20 August 2020 ~ Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer in Kaliningrad

Article 6: Lidskae Aksamitnae

I am most concerned about what is happening in Belarussia (I mean, Belarus) at the moment, not least because I have just discovered Lidskae Aksamitnae, a dark, rich, full-bodied beer with a deeply refreshing flavour.

**Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer in Kaliningrad**

Prejudiced against dark beers, with a proud aversion to the twangy-harp taste of Guinness and generally unseated by the intensified sweetness that seems to be the signature of dark, strong, British ales, I hesitated both in the purchase of Lidskae and, once that threshold had been crossed, the subsequent quaffing of it.

Removing the lid from my 1.5 litre bottle, I sniffed at it gingerly. It did not have a strong treacly smell and, I am glad to say, there were no twangy notes of a suspect brogue nature. What was this aroma that was hurtling up my hooter? Chocolate? Toasty? Someone’s nuts roasting? Whatever it was, I liked it.

Out of the bottle and into my glass it was as black as Brickstun (the name of my neighbour’s cat). But, within seconds of pouring it, an effervescence occurred that brought to the surface a white head, which stood out in stark contrast to the mass from whence it had come. I eyed it with the cautious way one would before entering Taste Alley. Dark beers had always been no-go areas for me, and I knew I was taking a risk. I recalled a stormy night in Portland. I had drunk black beer there and had felt bad for about 80 days.

I took my first sip. What was the verdict? Guilty!! It had only been a thought, but I was clearly inciting beery hatred. Contrary to my expectations, this brew had a rich, malty taste. It was not a riot, not even demonstrative on one’s taste buds. It did not try to sell you something you would rather not have, nor did it mug you. I felt that feeling one must get in taking one’s case to the European Court of Beery Rights and having it ruled in my flavour. I was not just relieved but rewarded ~ disproportionately compensated, for so I secretly thought, by a richness I did not deserve ~ well not for £1.40, which is what the beer had cost.

Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer Belarus — **Belarus beer at its best!** **Lidskae Aksamitnae**

Lidskae Aksamitnae Beer in Kaliningrad

Like most things of value, Lidskae Aksamitnae’s pedigree is firmly rooted in history and in heritage.

As the date on the label testifies, the Lida Beer Brewery began life in 1876. It is one of the oldest breweries in Belarus, the brainchild of Nosel Pupko, and it remained within his family for three generations.

By the turn of the 20^th century, Lidskoe beer, as it was then known, was already a winner in Europe, garnering various awards at respected exhibitions. Come the Soviet period, GOST standards meant standard beer; regional beers were restricted to the republic of its origin. But good news travel fast, as they say, and Lida’s reputation for producing tasty, quality brews somehow got out.

Today, with investment, ideas and technological input from companies in Finland and the Czech Republic, Lidskae beer continues to flourish, collecting international awards as high-class products and, more importantly, retaining and making old fans and new (such as me, the drinking Englishman) who certainly have no qualms when it comes to putting money where their mouths are.

They say you live and learn, and if I have learnt one thing and one thing only from buying and drinking this beer, it is BBM ~ Black Beers Matter!

Quality Belarus Beer — **Lidskae Aksamitnae** – **Gone but not forgotten ..**.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Lidskae Aksamitnae
Brewer: Lidskoe Pivo
Where it is brewed: Belarus
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.8%
Price: It cost me about 136 rubles (£1.40) from Spa (so near and also so far!)
Appearance: As black as your hoody
Aroma: Nutty and toasted
Taste: Smooth, rich, malty with a little sweetness and light bitterness
Fizz amplitude: 4/10
Label/Marketing: Proud heritage
Would you buy it again? Too right!

Brewery website> Lidskoe beer – Official site of Lidskoe Pivo company (lidskae.by)

Zhigulevskoye Beer Kaliningrad Russia

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 5: Zhigulevskoye Beer

As stated in my last beer review, my choice of supermarket-bought bottled beer in Kaliningrad is not influenced in any way by recommendation of any kind, which includes word of mouth. Neither do I purchase beer on the basis of its strength. The only selection criteria that I use is (i) have I drunk it before? (ii) do I like the label? As I know my Russian A Б B, I can sometimes cobble the name of the beer together. Not that it means very much, but as you might guess that was not the case with this particular brand, which when translated into English spells ‘Zhigulevskoye’.

Previous articles in this series:
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad
Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad
Gold Mine Beer in Kaliningrad

I was attracted to this particular beer, as opposed to the many others on offer, as the label has a distinctly nostalgic resonance. Look at it: The lower half of the label is the colour of ripe corn, the upper a bright blue sky. In the foreground, stationed on the yellow bed, stands one of those old Soviet roadside tankers, the ones that used to dispense peeva (beer) but which, in later years, were phased out as mobile meeting points with the greater uptake of conventional bars.

When I first came to Kaliningrad in the year 2000, there were still quite a few of these little yellow containers on wheels in evidence, but as the popularity of bars and licensed restaurants increased they were put out to pasture, making a comeback in later years for the dispensation of one of Russia’s most popular drinks, Kvass, an unusual beverage with an acquired taste made from fermented rye bread. Not that this would interest you lushes, as Kvass is alcohol-free.

In this pictorial incarnation, the one on the beer bottle, the little two-wheeled tanker proudly displays the word ‘beer’, peeva, in Cyrillic script. At the dispensing end, a young lady sits, a small shelf in front of her on which can be seen two ‘pint’ glasses. There are trees in the background and peeping through them the red pantiled rooftops and tall rustic chimneys of small cottages. The scene is one of perfect idyll. It captures superbly the Soviet concept of harmonic relationship between people and Mother Earth, and the impression is made complete by one of the USSR’s most simple but potent symbols, the yellow ear of wheat.

The name of the beer (which, as history denotes, is fairly unpronounceable in English) is written at a sloping angle across the front of the label in a deep-blue flowing Cyrillic script and the whole ensemble edified by an award-winning stamp of quality, a circular medallion containing a strong and manly thumbs-up symbol.

When I asked my wife, Olga, what the unpronounceable name of the beer meant in English, she was unable to translate, but, after several attempts to solve the riddle with the help of the internet, it turned out that the name equated to a motor vehicle! So, here I was sitting in my Russian attic drinking a pint of Lada!

As my friend John Hynes would say, and does say, “You couldn’t make it up!” Actually, he would say, and does say, “You couldn’t make this shit up!” but as the expletive can only confer an inapplicable derogation, for the sake of propriety and for accuracy we will dispense with this unfortunate word and focus instead on dispensing the beer.

Intrigued by the vehicle anomaly, Olga took to the internet via her mobile phone and connecting with a Russian site she was soon able to supply me with some interesting background information.

History of Zhigulevskoye Beer Kaliningrad Russia

The story goes that originally Zhigulevskoye was called ‘Viennese Beer’. It first saw life when Austrian aristocrat and businessman Alfred von Vacano established his Zhiguli Brewery in Samara in the early 1880s. The beer proved to be extremely popular but unfortunately for Alfred, come the Russian revolution in 1917, he was not. He ended up in Austria, his brewery confiscated, passed into the hands of the new Russian state.

Thus captured, Alfred’s extremely popular beer fell victim to the communist zeal for outlawing anything and everything that had a suspect bourgeoisie ring to it, and this was reflected in the beer’s name change from something that once could have been very well easy to say to Zhigulevskoye ~ proudly named after a Soviet car.

In Soviet times the brand had the best kind of monopoly that any beer can have ~ it was almost if not exclusive. At the height of its popularity, it was dispensed from 700 breweries and was exported to a number of different countries. Ironically, its international success was hampered by its name, which was not only difficult to pronounce but in some countries resembled words of a vulgar or impolite nature. The crude connotations of similar sounding words did not apply in England, where the beer was exported for a short while but simply did not catch on. How could it when we had Watney’s Pale Ale!!

Following the dissolution of the USSR, former satellite countries continued to brew Zhigulevskoye, most notably Carlsberg and Baltika brewers from their outlets in the Ukraine. Nevertheless, purists, romanticists and nostalgic drinkers stick firmly to their revolutionary guns where Zhigulevskoye is concerned, refusing to acknowledge true Zhigulevskoye unless it is brewed in Samara.

Voice off stage: Get on with it!

So, how did I find my 2020 version of Zhigulevskoye?

For all that I have read and for all that I have said, I am afraid to say that I cannot commit myself to use any other evaluative word other than that of ‘moderate’. The beer has a golden hue, a soft, mellow, traditional lager taste, is light on the palate, with a distant scent of hops, is easy to drink and quite refreshing, but what Alfred von Vacano would make of it, is anybody’s guess.

Call me an old (no, that’s reserved for people who really know me and liberals who think they do), old sentimentalist, but what I could not discern in flavour I derived more, as I supped away at Zhigulevskoye, from the label on the bottle. Even had there been nothing to recommend it, and this is not true, I could never bring myself to trash such an emblem of historic import. I know this lacks impartiality, but then this is why I named this series of posts, Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers in Kaliningrad.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Zhigulevskoye (after 2 x 1.5 litre bottles you can pronounce it)
Brewer: More than one, including Baltika and Carlsberg
Where it is brewed: Lots of places but Samara is its original birth place
Bottle capacity: 1.5 litres
Strength: 4.5% (strength varies depending on brewery)
Price: It cost me about 112 rubles (£1.16)
Appearance: A lovely yellow corn
Aroma: Faint this ‘n’ that
Taste: Light, traditional pale lager taste
Fizz amplitude: 5/10
Label/Marketing: Nostalgists heaven
Would you buy it again? Yes, whenever I am in a Soviet mood

Gold Mine Beer in Kaliningrad

**Mick Hart’s totally biased review of bottled beers* in Kaliningrad (or how to live without British real ale!)**

Article 4: Gold Mine Beer

Published: 24 July 2020

The bottled beer that I am reviewing today goes by the very enticing name of Gold Mine. As with all beers in this series of reviews, they are widely available throughout Kaliningrad, Russia, from most supermarkets, and, as with all of the beers that I intend to review here, they have been selected on an ad-hoc basis. Why did I choose Gold Mine? Because I liked the name and the label.

Previous articles in this series:
Bottled Beer in Kaliningrad
Variety of Beer in Kaliningrad
Cedar Wood Beer in Kaliningrad

Labelling and product presentation plays a crucial role in leveraging purchasing decisions at every level, but is particularly important when it comes to impulse purchasing an unknown, untried and untested brand of, in this case, beer without recommendation or information to act as a guide.

The seductability value of a bottled beer’s label design is especially important if you are operating on a quick-decision buy-it-now basis. Nowhere is this more true if you are buying a beer that is produced in a country that is not your home country, where you may have no knowledge of, or only an elementary grasp of, the written language of that country. In this case, your purchasing decision will almost certainly be made according to visual appeal. In my case, as my command of the Russian language is limited, as is the time that we have on this Earth, making a purchasing decision from what is written on the bottle would leave me little time to drink it before its sell by date expired. So, for me here in Russia, labelling, as well as beer strength (since even I can read the percentage on the bottle), are the two criteria that I use before parting with my rubles.

Marketing wise, Gold Mine is great. The label has a retro feel to it, which is bound to be attractive to an old vintage and antique dealer like myself who has never moved out of the past. The label, which is unsurprisingly gold coloured, has an American bias. The words Gold Mine Beer (in English) romp brassily across the front of a dark-blue and gold-rimmed shield, reminiscent of a 1960s’ US police officer’s badge. The shield is surmounted by a New York City skyscape, a group of sketched skyscrapers and big city office blocks, one bearing the word ‘Urban’ written sideways and travelling vertically and another, in bold, ‘Light’. The US city design continues as a series of abstract shapes and line-drawn tower blocks that fade in and out of the golden background. The collar label above wears a complementary image, denoting skyscraper and suspension bridge together with the words ‘100% Light Beer’ and ‘fresh’, ‘premium’. What does all this mean? Well, nothing much, but the words are in different weights and scripts and as my Russian wife would say, when she gets her words in a mucking fuddle, it good looks.

We do not buy beer to look at the label, do we? That is about as daft as suggesting that we buy anything with alcohol in it to drink sensibly, because if we wanted to do that we would confine ourselves to mineral water, but, at the risk of repeating myself and sounding vaguely sexist, when it comes to trying something new appearance is everything and a bit more besides.

Leering at it in the supermarket cooler it occurred to me that if the product delivered as much as the labelling, it would be a darn good drink.

So, I bought it. Took it home. Retired with it to my gentleman’s drinking room, Mick’s Place, secreted in the attic, and plumbed the depths.

Gold Mine Beer in Kaliningrad

Verdict: Gold Mine Beer does have a colour that lives up to its name. It is a light, golden, lager beer. I have seen it described as crisp, but I would disagree with that: it has a soft, mellow taste with a standard, traditional lager finish. There is also a faint after taste, but not exciting enough for me to want to write home about it. Having said that, the texture is quite full bodied. It suits my palate in that its carbonation soon gives out, so it does not fizz up one’s nose like a glass of Andrew’s Liver Salts (sorry for mentioning the liver in a beer review).

Would I drink it again?

Yes. A 1.35 litre bottle retails in our local store for about 90 rubles (just over a quid). It is not the bees’ knees of beers but then neither is it the roadman’s wellingtons. It is drinkable and more. Real ale connoisseurs may well have a problem with it, but I suspect seasoned lager drinkers used to finding less ‘gold in them thar pilsners’ than they would like, might reasonably discover when prospecting this brand that it was good enough to bottle it.

😁TRAINSPOTTING & ANORAKS
Name of Beer: Gold Mine Beer
Brewer: World Beers
Where it is brewed: California, USA
Bottle capacity: 1.35 litres
Strength: 4.5%
Price: It cost me about 90 rubles (98 pence)
Appearance: You won’t believe it ~ Gold
Aroma: Corny
Taste: Soft, traditional, light-coloured lager tang with one or two hops struggling to the surface
Fizz amplitude: 6/10
Label/Marketing: As good as, if not better than, gold
Would you buy it again? Yes. But I wouldn’t go looking for it