Wherever you go in Portugal, you’re likely to discover that Super Bock is the order of the day. Super Bock is – in spite of the alluring name – the standard, ordinary, some might say slightly boring pilsner-style lager that you find in southern European countries.
Super Bock is all-pervasive; its circular red logo stares down at you from billboards, and winks at you from bar taps. The last time I was in Lisbon, four years ago, I mistakenly thought that Super Bock only made, um, Super Bock.
But that’s not quite true. Dinner in the docks in Lisbon produced an unexpected treat – a restaurant with a beer menu. So, this time I was able to eschew the ordinary Super Bock, and try two of the company’s other brews.
Super Bock Abadia is presented, on the white label, as “an artisan brew”. It’s amber-looking; much darker than the standard pils – and pleasantly strong, at 6.3% or thereabouts. And its taste was surprising. Here was a Portuguese brewer making a beer that was a passable imitation of a Belgian ambrée. I could happily have had more. Later, I discover that it should be served in goblet-shaped glasses – again, the correct glass for a Belgian beer like this – and not in the flute-type glasses I was served in.
Super Bock Aluminio sounded interesting. I asked what it was. “It’s just like a Super Bock”, said the waitress, “except it’s in an aluminium bottle”. Like the smart, premium, bottles from Heineken, I expect. But given that the beer was the same, I didn’t choose it – style over substance, I grumbled under my breath, like a middle-aged grumpy man.
The interesting-sounding Super Bock Green didn’t get a look in (turns out it’s lemon beer). Nor did I choose the Super Bock alcohol-free – I’m not against alcohol-free beers, but I’ve yet to find an alcohol-free beer that doesn’t either taste of toffee, like Kronenbourg’s, or burnt newspaper, like Kaliber.
Instead, I went for the Super Bock Stout. According to the label of the bottle, it is the beer with “a strong and mysterious personality”. On the pour it looks similar to, well, Coca-Cola. Or Guinness Original (the fizzy stuff without the widget). The head quickly dissipated; and I discover that the Super Bock Stout isn’t, really, a stout. If anything, this 5% beer is closest to a German black lager (or an Asahi black) – still thirst-quenching and very tasty, but sweet-tasting and light. It’s almost what I’d expect a stout to be like if it was served in a hot country – not heavy, like Guinness, and not thick and spiced like the rather marvellous Midnight Sun (which has, thanks to a ‘buy three get a special price’ promotion at Tesco, been the choice at home for the past few weeks). With the proviso that it’s got the wrong label on it, this is a good beer.
The moral of the story is that perceptions are not always reality. There’s a great amount of interesting-tasting beers in Portugal. You just need to find them.
