Brewery: Canterbury Ales
Beer: The Wife of Bath’s
Category: Hoppy Golden Bitter
ABV: 3.9%
Ah well, it’s April Fool’s Day, and this beer has miraculously survived from Xmas. Ahm no’ kidding! A most pleasant pressie to receive, thanks to Mrs Jockose, who is well known for her appreciation of the finer things in life, like me. Read that how ye will.
As with all things, I try to be open minded and balanced when appraising something critical in life, like the future of the environment, lavatories in China, and beer. Not being the fussy type, I only insist on a few things:- pleasing presentation, good head, moderate-to-high burp inducing capacity, reasonable alcohol content, colour – not too dark please, and lastly but not leastly, taste & drinkability. So, I’m hopeful that, just like Mrs Jockose, this beer will be a sunny, hoppy, golden, delectable and tasty treat!
All sounds very promising, ye might think. But akin to my cheffing, the proof is in the haggis. All will be revealed, beer fans…hold yer salivating tongues, and kicking livers – the best things in life are worth waiting for. My instinct is ‘The Wife of Bath’s’ will rank very highly on the gashometer, hence it’s scoop-free existence, until now, on this sunny outdoor April evening. But,… I am seemingly known to be wrong more than just that one time, when I thought we’d beat Peru in 1978.
Mrs Jockose1 & my other faithful pooch2 – on standby, ready to rescue me.
Right, let’s have a look. Hmmm. I can safely and quite kindly say, without meaning any insult whatsoever, the label looks cheap and nasty, and unworthy of wiping a doggie’s bottom with. No offence Wolfers. It’s a mid-yellow colour with red and black text and graphics, in a matt finish. But as the famous mathematician Enid Blyton once said, one should never judge a beer by its cover. Reading advises this is a ‘light, spicy golden bitter, with citrus hops and a long dry finish’.
Where’s Wolfy gone? She’s nowhere to be seen.
I’ll move to the bottom of the garden, and like Mrs B, catch a sunspot or two.
Ah ha – here comes ma wee duggy. She gives me the ‘not-another-beer, dad!’ look, but smiles faintly, a wee bit worried looking. She’s probably hoping for a tasty treat at some point.
Wolfy looking worried3
Ah well, here goes. Taps aff! Holy moly, it’s a lively number!As one might expect from her name, the rather buxom Mrs Bath, who has pride of place front and right, gets soaked, with rivers of beer streaming (is rivering a word?) all over her. Certainly nothing dry about that finish.
This drink can’t wait to erupt from the bottle4, and Mrs Bath gets foamed all over5
Poor Mrs Bath does look quite a sorry case, with questionable head gear and advanced tooth decay, which was all the rage in the 10th century. The barbers and dentists of Canterbury have come on quite modestly since then, although I do like a dodgy hairdo myself from time to time – even when I ask for one, and I’m almost nearly gumsy too! She must’ve been an Insta sensation back in the day. She is smiling and blessed with a complete nose with nostrils and two eyes, with only the smallest scattering of pox marks on her cheeks and surrounding areas. Clearly, imbibing several flaggons of this stuff every day did her the world of good. She’s what’s known in modern parlance as ‘a looker’.
After soaking Mrs Bath, I pour, and partly due to my consistently unprofessional technique, a significant head arises.
Wolfy instantly runs over to inspect and ensure this won’t be life-threatening to her beloved treat-giver. She somehow manages to retain her stomach contents, which is a fine achievement, and gives a quick wag of approval. Maybe this won’t be too gash after all.
Beer with a mighty head & fizzy body6, but worth a sniff7
Here we go!…First four gulps – hmm gassy, dry, a wee bit hoppy-citrus-y and boring. Decent burp instantly erupts. This is a fruity one! Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp!
Wolfy springs a grey eyebrow.
Overall, I think it’s a bit weird. Sure, the burps are supersonic top marks stuff- but taste-wise, this is a cross between a regular sort of bitter with some random hops, and essence of Chernobyl. Fizzy slops, anyone? There may be some significant pre-dinner activity in the intestines department.
Hmmm. Next four swallows cause some severe blotage, and if I didn’t weigh 24 stone, I might float off like Augustus Gloop from Willy Wonka’s factory. Which, BTW, is one of the finest publications ever. Hmm, wonder if Roald Dahl made beers as well. How’s about ‘Ales of the Unexpected?’.
Ooooh, the next four gulps are challenging. There’s no getting away from that, that was a tough imbibe, calling on my 60 years’ experience of downing pints. This beer, if truth be told, is a bit minging. Oh noooo, there’s some yeasty crappy bits at the bottom tooo. Truly filthy. I sense the gashometer rising. Wolfy barks then does a runner inside the hoose, probably to call the emergency services. I burp almightily, like the Lion King stepping on a piece of Lego, causing her to sprint back, thinking it’s ball time!
With a re-assuring pat on the head, Wolfy settles herself into the shack and I join her. She’s had a tough session, so helps herself to a sip out of the bottle, has a long draw from her cigarette, and relaxes. Surprisingly, she doesn’t burp but let’s rip with a fruity one, so I open the doors wide to share with the neighbours.
Wolfers relaxes, and lets rip with one of her finest.8
A very well-deserved Scooby snack for wee Wolfy.9
Overall, an unquestionable, thoroughly merited 10/10 on the gashometer. This beer is clatty, minging, howfing, bowfing and almost totally undrinkable.
This is a beer I would not drink again…even if parched in a sauna on a desert island.
Never did like Chaucer, anyway. Roald Dahl is more my thing.
Sources
1-9: Ally Grant photos, April 2024.