I’M not going to pretend to be objective. Beer is a matter of taste, so no ratings, and advance apologies to those who disagree. Also, I’m not tasting the best beers in the world, trekking the bars for that perfect draught of obscure brew; rather beers that are easily available, and refreshingly suit our climate. And no cans, they give a horrible clunky taste, just the bottle.
Keo, 4.5%
In the great Keo/Carlsberg divide, I’ve always been a Keo. Yet putting on my taster’s cap I couldn’t pin it down, which underlines the subjective nature of drinking. Keo may not make it on to a world top ten, but it wipes the slate clean after a day’s work, it’s perfect coming out of the sea on a hot summer’s day, and it’s got enough bite to stand up to a heaving barbecue. A bitter twang and a rounded taste. The first sip (or gulp) on a hot summer’s day is one of the great little pleasures of life.
Carlsberg, 4.6%
See above. I tried, but still it leaves me cold. Yes, it’s a very clean beer and probably refreshing, but that’s it for me. Neither bitter, nor sweet and too fizzy. I know half of Cyprus disagrees, so please write in and tell me why Carlsberg makes you click and Keo doesn’t ([email protected]). I doubt I’ll be converted – prejudice is stubborn.
Leon, 4.5%
I remember liking this beer when it first came out, but somehow never took it up, so welcomed the excuse to taste it again. A darker gold than the big two, and stronger on the taste buds, with a warm glow of hazelnuts (beginning to sound like a wine snob, but it does…). Yet the taste fades fast and there’s has too much fizz. Still, a welcome and very pleasant alternative.
Amstel, 5%
Couple of Greek beers next. OK, I know Amstel is Dutch, but it’s brewed in Greece and will always be associated with island holidays. Landing by a pool in the magnificent courtyard of a restored Venetian mansion in Rethymnon after walking the whole town in search of a hotel in July, Amstel was a vision of paradise. It remains a favourite: well-balanced, its chocolate warmth offset by a lovely twang of bitterness.
Mythos, 5%
Another association: this time Athens a year before the Olympics, a small bar in a side street behind Ermou; the sound of drills, concrete dust and urban heat: Mythos had the virility to stand up to it all. This is the bitterest of the seven, a muscular beer with a strong taste of hops, yet still deeply refreshing.
Efes, 5%
Reviewed in the interests of rapprochement. My first taste of Turkey’s national beer came in the bar of the Pera Palace in Istanbul, in all its faded fin-de-siècle grandeur. At the end of a long journey via Athens it was the perfect pick me up. Very different from the Cypriot beers, Efes is stronger, with a lingering nutty flavour. I love the taste, but it doesn’t love me – the second bottle leaves me battling a nasty headache.
Leffe blonde, 6.6%
Doesn’t really fit in with the rest, but this Belgian monastery beer is my indulgence, a memory of left-bank student days in Paris, the smell of Gauloises, the clinking of coffee cups and shouting of waiters. Smoky like an Islay malt with a beautifully caramelised flavour and powerful aftertaste, yet refreshing enough to stand up to the Cyprus heat.
