Bitterness is like spiciness– the more you get used to it, the more you want it, and the more your tolerance rises.

Though sometimes it can all feel a bit macho: how spicy, how strong, how bitter, how sour, like the guy on the TV show Man v Food who tries to eat the biggest or spiciest meat concoction ever made.

I’ve never been sure what the point is, but it is certainly not appreciation of the food.

Double and triple IPAs are like the Rambos of the craft world: tonnes of hops, seriously bitter and high in alcohol. Done wrong and they can be throat-achingly bitter and will annihilate your palate for the evening. Done right and they’re strong but full of complexity and subtle undertones.

In the US, the home of double IPAs, Vinnie Cilurzo from the Russian River brewery described the beer drinker’s growing tolerance of bitterness as the Lupulin Threshold Shift. (Lupulin is found in hops and contains the compounds that make beer bitter.) Basically, it’s what happens when “a double IPA just isn’t enough”.

Hop fanatics can sometimes be heard talking about IBU’s (International Bittering Units), which measure how bitter a beer is – especially if they’re on the higher end of the scale. I am not the biggest fan of double IPAs, to be honest. Drinking one always feels like a big investment: it’s going to be higher in alcohol and bitterness, and needs to be pretty impressive to justify it.

Like Galway Bay’s Of Foam and Fury, which is a double IPA at 8.5 per cent, with a richly fruity and piney aroma and taste.

Or Brewdog’s Jack Hammer, which has a floral, citrus character and is 7.2 per cent, though not technically a double IPA. Both are big, bitter beers and deserve a big occasion, I reckon.

Or maybe just a quiet spot to put your feet up and sip away slowly. beerista@irishtimes.com @ITbeerista