Review: Neapolitan Bonaparte

Review: Neapolitan Bonaparte

The Crafty Pint | 18 July 2024

The country's foremost devotees of white stouts have served up a bourbon barrel-aged mix of the beer served three ways. To kick things off, let's go with the first slice from a box of Peter's and the flavour that always seems to vanish faster than any other: Chocolate...

Author: Will Ziebell, The Crafty Pint
Original Article published on 18 July 2024

Until about the age of 15, I was convinced that Neapolitan ice cream was named after Napoleon Bonaparte, rather than having any connection to Naples. I'm pretty sure I held similar views on Neapolitan pizzas too but, in my defence, growing up in a small country town how was I supposed to know the frozen BBQ chicken served on cardboard from a supermarket was meant to hail from Italy rather than France?

Given the release of Hawkers' Neapolitan Bonaparte trio, it seems the brewery has a lot to still learn about ice cream, pizza and the spelling of French dictators' names (but, to be fair, they are still a fair bit younger than I was when the penny dropped).

All of that is to say that the country's foremost devotees of white stouts have served up a bourbon barrel-aged mix of the beer served three ways. To kick things off, let's go with the first slice from a box of Peter's and the flavour that always seems to vanish faster than any other: Chocolate. [Not in my household, mate. Chocolate was always last to go – Editor] Unsurprisingly, it's the darkest of the three and the brown hue is a clear clue to the cocoa that makes its presence felt while joined by coffee, vanilla and cream.

Next up is Vanilla Caramel. Why vanilla AND caramel? Because Hawkers aren't suckers and know that vanilla is just plain ice cream and is enjoyed by the least exciting member of any friendship group. Here, that combination more brings to mind butterscotch and caramel frosting that you'd serve on top of a sponge cake.

Which leaves Strawberry in which the sweetness kicks in like milkshake from a school cafeteria, but with enough bitterness to make it a far more adult experience.