All the threes

Collaboration, collaboration, collaboration -- that's where the action is at the geek-focused breweries around the world at the moment: get some extra wow factor into your beer by inviting someone else who brews highly-sought-after beer to work on one with you. Credibility for all!

Sometimes, though, two breweries just isn't enough. Which is why California legends Stone got together with their neighbours to the south Alesmith, then roped in the globetrotting king of the Danish beer geeks Mikkel Borg Bjergsø, to brew a beer. What style? Why a tripel, of course.

The result is Alesmith Mikkeller Stone Belgian Style Tripel Ale, seemingly just another in the growing list of hopped-up Belgian-style strong blonde ales. I was expecting something along the lines of Houblon Chouffe or Hop-It, but I was wrong.

The first clue was the lack of clumpy or hazy Belgian yeast residue. It's a very clear amber colour, with just a few bits hanging suspended, as in jelly. It follows from this that the body is a big'un, supporting a thunking 8.7% ABV: thick and greasy is how I'd describe it, very unBelgian. The dominant taste is mandarin fruitiness from some very generous American hopping, and absolutely delicious it is too. There's not a whole lot else -- a gentle sparkle, a pleasant warmth -- but mostly it's clean, hoppy and distinctly Californian. It's the simpler sort of three-brewer, transatlantic, hybrid style ale. I didn't miss the Belgian yeast complexity one little bit.

Belgian, however you look at it

I was underwhelmed with my last Urthel experience, but was looking forward to Hop-It, a "superieur hoppig blond". It's 9.5% ABV and boasts "large quantities of aroma hops". Naturally I was expecting something in an American vein from the Belgian.

As usual, I was way off. No major hoppy aroma hit me on opening, nor even when poured into a chalice glass. It is a lovely colour, though: a pale amber gold with one of those typically Belgian creamy heads.

And on tasting... it's a tripel, straight up, no messing tripel. The bitterness is that very Belgian spicy sort, redolent of pine and lemon juice without a trace of grapefruit or sherbet. There's a hefty malt profile too, giving the bitter flavour a stickiness that keeps it on the lips for ages.

On mature reflection (one paragraph later) perhaps tripel isn't the best analogy. Instead, imagine Duvel with less fizz and the bitterness turned waaay up. Regardless, this is a highly enjoyable sipper: not one I'd drink a whole lot of, but a superb standalone.