Lervig

Norway probably isn’t the first country most people associate with modern craft beer, largely because it spent years quietly getting on with things while everybody else shouted about hazy IPA releases online. Lervig changed that fairly quickly.

Founded in Stavanger in 2003, Lervig started life as a fairly conventional local brewery before Mike Murphy arrived and things became considerably more interesting. Since then, the brewery has built a reputation for big, expressive beers that somehow still retain balance underneath all the hops, adjuncts and Scandinavian enthusiasm for pushing boundaries.

Their core range covers everything from crisp pilsners to soft juicy pale ales, but Lervig really gained international attention through imperial stouts and heavily hopped IPAs. The stouts especially can get gloriously excessive. Maple syrup, coffee, coconut, chocolate, marshmallow, sometimes all appearing at once like a dessert trolley that’s lost control of the situation. Yet they rarely feel clumsy. There’s usually enough bitterness, roast or booze structure to hold things together.

What makes Lervig work is that the brewery understands restraint even when making ridiculous beers. The cleaner lagers and pale ales are often excellent too, which tends to separate genuinely skilled breweries from ones relying entirely on pastry stout chaos. Their sour programme deserves attention as well, balancing acidity and fruit properly rather than tasting like somebody dissolved sweets into vinegar.

Stavanger itself feels oddly appropriate for Lervig. Wealthy oil city on the North Sea, modern Scandinavian design everywhere, terrible weather outside half the year. Strong stout territory, really.