Ordinary is an interesting concept. If something is ordinary we assume it’s middle of the road, average, boring.
But ordinary could just mean nothing unusual. In this case, this IS an ordinary bitter, it doesn’t have many weird additions or funky methods to the way it’s brewed: it’s ordinary. But it’s not average.
It uses traditional bitter brewing methods and an old school East Kent goldings hop, but there is a nod to the new world with a load of chinook hops bunged in to create a little spiciness to the bitter.
In a world of fruity triple hopped double d’d IPAs and face-crunchingly sharp sours, an ordinary bitter is, in a way, unusual in itself.
It smells like you would expect bitter to smell, kind of fusty but comforting. Reminiscent of cosy firesides in local pubs all over the country that haven’t changed for centuries.
The taste is smooth and malty, with a touch of sweetness that’s delicate enough to offset the bitterness but not make it unpleasant. The piney aromas of the chinook come more towards the rear and into the aftertaste, which is lightly spiced and reminded me a lot of a mild mince pie kind of flavour.
I find bitters very comforting, a hark back to my early drinking days of pinching my Dad’s Tetley’s and Smith’s from the fridge, and this is an excellent version of a stoic English classic.
The Ordinary Bitter is a unique can design that really caught my eye. A light purple background with the design almost etched out of it, making it stand out and giving you a textured feel in the hand.
The design itself is a nod to the two ages this beer represents, with the Victorian era chap with his massive tripod camera and top hat juxtaposed against the hipster-y guy with his DSLR camera a visual representation of old world meets new.
We got ours in a Brew Republic box, but you can get it yourself and experience this clash-of-worlds for just £2.95 for members of Honest Brew - or £3.19 for non-members which is still a bargain.
