Hullaballoo,
and a very Happy New Year! Aah, a phrase best used...um about 16 or 17 days ago. But never mind, have been otherwise engaged and this is my first blog post of 2017. Here is what happened when myself and Mr P did our first Wanderiains of 2017.....
Twas the first Friday and I met Mr P after work to catch the 20. Didn't wait long, didn't take long, and we ended up at a pub I have never previously visited, the Sportsman on Harvey Clough Road. I know the late, great George, or rather Keith Laycock went there to do the quiz - although that may have been the Mount Pleasant, but either way, it was my first visit and Mr P's first for a couple of decades or more. For info, before setting out, George often used to say "am just going to change a tenner" or, "am just going to see a man about a dog". We all knew he was going to the quiz....
Inside I understand little has changed, Mr P recognised the layout, and on the large bar there were two real ales, of which we both had halves of Abbeydale Moonshine at a price which may have been below £3.00. The beer was well kept and this was an enjoyable start to our crawl. I also paid on card for two halves, which very much suits me down to the ground.
Nearby we visited the Mount Pleasant. In through the front this time (!) and I didn't see Gwynneth (?) or her Sister behind the bar, instead a jolly lass who was discussing the merits or otherwise of the Chrizznussly themed ale from a National Brewery. I think Mr P had a pint and I had a pint of the excellent Adnams Ghost Ship.
The pub seems unaltered since my first visit five years or more ago and that's to its credit. Its has a traditional layout with a lovely lounge on the left and a very small bar in the...um..bar. Room. An excellent place to stop for a beer as always.
Further down the Road Mr P asked if we could go in the Prince of Wales. I can't say I was blown away by it last time but I agreed, if nothing else to hear him read his poem he wrote after being told not to come in anymore when he was in his late teens. An excellent poem, I have to say. On the bar this time were two beers and I think one of them was from Wychwood, which we had a half of each. It was OK, a bit Wychwoody, but that's not a criticism of how it was kept.
Further down the road is the Cross Scythes. Still a Thornbridge pub selling numerous real ales and kegs (and flavoured pork scratchings), I went "mad" and bought myself a pint and Mr a half of the 7 or above% Huck from Thornbridge. I have to say I really liked it, but agree with Edd that you could expect more from a hoppy pale ale at that strength.
Having bumped into Steve in the loos, we headed his way - down Derbyshire Lane, to the main road and walked along to the White Lion. A guy whose surname I think is Miles (who I saw at the Bath Hotel do an excellent version of John the Revelator, unaccompanied of course) was doing a set at the back. We got pints - myself am fairly certain of Abduction., and sat near the stage having watched the first five or six of his songs from the steps.
As always the Abduction was on top form and it was good to see the pub absolutely heaving - testament of course to the sterling work done by Jon and Mandy since they took over (and Jon may have lost an H, sorry Jon....)
So ended an entertaining and enjoyable crawl of some new and old favourite boozers in Sheffield to kick start Drinkuary in fab sunny Sheffield.
Drink! Drink! Drink!
With regards,
Wee Beefy
Showing posts with label Wanderians. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wanderians. Show all posts
Tuesday, 17 January 2017
Saturday, 9 November 2013
Beer - perfect for "when I jetmjnh aidus. (Hijjs)"
Beer text.
A message that makes perfect sense to the sender, despite a distinct lack of co-ordination between their brain, fingers and eyesight. The kind of message which is always of the utmost importance, delivered with the highest expediency, and which will always read back just fine the next day.
But, I hear you ask, what sequence of events might make one clamber aboard the magic beer typewriter? What manner of tavern haunting and amber research could warrant such an action? Here's a few details of my thirst for knowledge over the last few days to put you in the picture....
Wednesday was Wanderians day so we headed up into town with the intention of having a change - and visiting the Sportsman on Cambridge Street. On entering there were two handpumps turned round. Journalistic rigor meant I had to ask if the beer was on, even though it clearly wasn't - and the nice man informed me that Trooper and another real ale would be on tomorrow. Still, that represents a hundred percent increase in the number of real ales in the Sportsman, should it happen.
Mr P was unswayed by the suggestion of Henrys and reluctant to trek to the Bath so we adjournment to DAda. DAda have recently introduced a new concept - comfortable seating. Which means that no matter how hip, pretentious or genuine you are, you needn't sup your ale sat on a fold-able metal chair. Which is nice. To celebrate, we had pints of the rather excellent Thornbridge Otters Tears, brewed for the Indy Man beer conference that everyone but me went to. A perfect hoppy citrus bite and a very drinkable body made for an excellent drink. Mr P moved down a percentage to sup a pint of the Red Willow Headless, whilst I stuck with the tears. I finished on two halves - one of Hardknott Azimuth, which was fantastic, and one of the ever excellent Thornbridge Halcyon.
I say "finished" but in reality Mr P was sensible enough to go home whilst I, labouring under the self delusion of needing to "go sopping" headed to West Street where I accidentally went to the Bath Hotel. Here I had an excellent pint of Pictish Chinook, which was on good form, if steep at £3.40 a go.
Last night as an end of week reward for our having had housemaids knee for 5 days we were supposed to be going to the Tap. Arriving we noticed a party of students carrying massive models of buildings had made passage to the bar almost impossible and there was a bad smell and an even worse atmosphere. So we decamped to the Rutland Arms. We had pints of the excellent Brew Company Oat Stout and sat outside in the beer garden for a chat and some restorative fresh air.
Back inside we noted the Hopcraft New Dawn Fades we'd had our eye on had faded altogether so we had pints of Acorn Bishop IPA. Another Excellent single hop IPA (I imagine Bishop is a hop?) which didn't seem to last very long. So we had another pint, this time accompanied by a half of Magic Rock High Wire which was £2.16 a half on the Keykeg. This 5.5% beer was on top form and not served too cold, so didn't really last very long. So much so in fact that we had to order another half, along with some food - a plate of Italian cheese, meat, olives and bread which was much needed.
We had been sat upstairs but as the pub was less busy we headed down to commandeer the juke box and to buy several more pints of High Wire. For our final rounds, Miss N stayed on the High Wire and I moved onto Hop Studio XS which was also on fine form. It was nice to bump into the Sheffield Sound Collective (Pete, Dan, Mark, Daniel and Vinnie) and friends who were back from seeing seminal 90's band Cud. We hooked up with them for the last hour before having a final round of drinks and getting a rather inexpensive taxi home.
And yes, as you may have guessed, somebody did make the mistake of trying to send a text. As you do when you've had about 7 pints. And it was every bit as nonsensical as the words in the post title. In fact, it virtually was the post title....
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
Note - if you can suggest 3 English words that I might have been attempting to text then you, and indeed I, could win the prize of knowledge......
A message that makes perfect sense to the sender, despite a distinct lack of co-ordination between their brain, fingers and eyesight. The kind of message which is always of the utmost importance, delivered with the highest expediency, and which will always read back just fine the next day.
But, I hear you ask, what sequence of events might make one clamber aboard the magic beer typewriter? What manner of tavern haunting and amber research could warrant such an action? Here's a few details of my thirst for knowledge over the last few days to put you in the picture....
Wednesday was Wanderians day so we headed up into town with the intention of having a change - and visiting the Sportsman on Cambridge Street. On entering there were two handpumps turned round. Journalistic rigor meant I had to ask if the beer was on, even though it clearly wasn't - and the nice man informed me that Trooper and another real ale would be on tomorrow. Still, that represents a hundred percent increase in the number of real ales in the Sportsman, should it happen.
Mr P was unswayed by the suggestion of Henrys and reluctant to trek to the Bath so we adjournment to DAda. DAda have recently introduced a new concept - comfortable seating. Which means that no matter how hip, pretentious or genuine you are, you needn't sup your ale sat on a fold-able metal chair. Which is nice. To celebrate, we had pints of the rather excellent Thornbridge Otters Tears, brewed for the Indy Man beer conference that everyone but me went to. A perfect hoppy citrus bite and a very drinkable body made for an excellent drink. Mr P moved down a percentage to sup a pint of the Red Willow Headless, whilst I stuck with the tears. I finished on two halves - one of Hardknott Azimuth, which was fantastic, and one of the ever excellent Thornbridge Halcyon.
I say "finished" but in reality Mr P was sensible enough to go home whilst I, labouring under the self delusion of needing to "go sopping" headed to West Street where I accidentally went to the Bath Hotel. Here I had an excellent pint of Pictish Chinook, which was on good form, if steep at £3.40 a go.
Last night as an end of week reward for our having had housemaids knee for 5 days we were supposed to be going to the Tap. Arriving we noticed a party of students carrying massive models of buildings had made passage to the bar almost impossible and there was a bad smell and an even worse atmosphere. So we decamped to the Rutland Arms. We had pints of the excellent Brew Company Oat Stout and sat outside in the beer garden for a chat and some restorative fresh air.
Back inside we noted the Hopcraft New Dawn Fades we'd had our eye on had faded altogether so we had pints of Acorn Bishop IPA. Another Excellent single hop IPA (I imagine Bishop is a hop?) which didn't seem to last very long. So we had another pint, this time accompanied by a half of Magic Rock High Wire which was £2.16 a half on the Keykeg. This 5.5% beer was on top form and not served too cold, so didn't really last very long. So much so in fact that we had to order another half, along with some food - a plate of Italian cheese, meat, olives and bread which was much needed.
We had been sat upstairs but as the pub was less busy we headed down to commandeer the juke box and to buy several more pints of High Wire. For our final rounds, Miss N stayed on the High Wire and I moved onto Hop Studio XS which was also on fine form. It was nice to bump into the Sheffield Sound Collective (Pete, Dan, Mark, Daniel and Vinnie) and friends who were back from seeing seminal 90's band Cud. We hooked up with them for the last hour before having a final round of drinks and getting a rather inexpensive taxi home.
And yes, as you may have guessed, somebody did make the mistake of trying to send a text. As you do when you've had about 7 pints. And it was every bit as nonsensical as the words in the post title. In fact, it virtually was the post title....
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
Note - if you can suggest 3 English words that I might have been attempting to text then you, and indeed I, could win the prize of knowledge......
Wednesday, 22 May 2013
A crapulence of Wanderiains
Hello again,
as previously mentioned (possibly?), the primary reason for my self enforced abstinence this week is recognition that I have somewhat overdone May so far. Having been out almost every night for two weeks even I had the remaining brain power to surmise that actually I'd been very silly. Not that I hadn't enjoyed being very silly. Its rather fun, I tend to find.
Anyhoo, this shaky procession of dry hours gives me the chance to catch up on some news about said events, which I hope to accurately convey hereafter.
Wednesday (not today, keep up!) was Wanderiains day, and since it was switching between sunshine and pouring rain so it seemed only sensible to walk to the Gardeners Rest. This time we broke with tradition and settled in the snug on the left, taking with us pints of Long Itch Light relief for me and a weaker offering of theirs for Mr P. Neither were exactly accomplished beers, but were refreshing, so we quickly dispatched them and moved onto a pint of Pennine Test match for Mr P and a pint of Blue Bee Brown Ball for me. And yes, it really is the bitterest brown beer in Sheffield.
A quick walk round to the Ship followed but in our haste we had arrived early so decamped to the Wellington for halves of Little Ale Cart Sir William something with an A in it (my notes offer Blake, Sage and Gage - chances are its none). Then we nipped back over the road to find the footy on in the Ship, where I had a pint and a half of the Deception and Mr P a surprisingly palatable Bradfield Rhubarb bitter. It was nice to sit in the left hand side watching the sun stream through the windows, and it was a shame to leave to be honest.
I finished in Shakespeares where I chatted to Keith and big Ron about pubs and supped a pint of Rat Brewery Light Mild and Hop Studio Black IPA, both of which were in good nick.
Thursday was supposed to be my "day off" but a wall of brain achingly complex work and a weird text from Christingpher about 16.00 heralded another reckless night of refreshments. We met at Shakespeares and I started with a pint of Mallinsons Bramling, which was every bit as good as I'd expected, and went to sit with Christingpher in the beer yard. Alas, the warm sunshine had deserted the area hours ago and before long it was raining so we headed inside, where we both had pints of the same.
Next we traveled to Commonside to visit the Closed Shop where we bumped into Mr Stephens (hardly surprising) and also Dave, AKA Closed Shop Kate. As you know, I;m a big fan of humour by repetition, so in only two years I'll definitely have tired of referring to Dave as Dave. Instead of Kate....
Here there was more glorious beer talk as well as a decent smattering of noise on the jukebox. Christingpher was very sensibly on the Raw Majjic Mild whilst I had two pints of the also excellent Welbeck Abbey Cavendish, before we undertook the rather lengthy but downhill walk to the Ship at Shalesmoor.
So began my second ever proper session in here, ensconced near the jukebox and putting away an ominous number of pints of the Bradfield Rhubarb Bitter. Three hours passed with conversation ranging from random events from our childhood, to classic arguments we'd had with friends. In some ways, a drinking session with some one you've known 35 years is hard to beat. In the end, it was only my ongoing employment that brought this festival of slaking to an end.
Friday I was going out with my dear friend Middlemarch but alas she caught a debilitating illness that meant she didn't even want to go out drinking. So, instead of leaving early for pints I diligently stayed at work til late - then caved in and ran away to the Closed Shop for beer and solace. Luckily, I bumped into Vinnie and Daniel who I'd met at Pete Green's birthday the other day and so ended up gatecrashing their get together.
Here I was on a mixture of Raw Dark Peak Stout, and Blue Bee Blue Ball (not in the same glass you understand) as we got through many hours of chat and numerous pints. It was great getting to know Vinnie and Daniel, along with Mark, Leila, and Steve, and catching up with Father O'Matic and Kiri, but eventually, and unfortunately, it became something past one and I had to go home.
My last night out of this post (there will be a separate one about another Manchester area crawl to come) saw me out for the unofficial Carlos' birthday night out. To be quite honest by this time I was starting to sense that I was pushing my luck living-wise so decreed to meet as late as possible and leave at a sensible time. In the end everyone was late, as befits a Carlos do, and I made the last bus.
We started in the Hop and I had a pint of Green Jack Trawler Boys, which tasted fine but by the end had developed a detectable compost bin nose, so I moved onto Abbeydale Devotion next. We sat upstairs with Jambon (for a bit), Carlos, Mole, Angie, Wee Keefy and Toastie, before the band started playing, and the situation with the blocked men's urinal started to tell. One final pint was supped in here, Ossett Challenger, which was the best so far, before we headed to the Washington.
The Washington is the default later on destination of virtually everyone my age. Its always had a place in my heart and I've had many fab nights there. Plus, the eclectic crowd and somehow always palatable cloudy Moonshine wins it many plaudits. However, it seems to be fast securing a place in my mind as one of the stranger pubs in Sheffield. Its like it was 50 when I first visited 20 years ago (it actually opened in 1839, but lets not confuse my metaphor) and now its a much loved, slightly doddery place where flashbacks and confusion abound.
On Saturday we got in about 22.00 and it was not too busy (I mean, no-one goes in before midnight, right?) and having secured our pint of surprisingly ace Moonshine we ventured into the "Deep End" i.e the two rooms to the right with the glitter balls and DJ in. The room was virtually empty and it was easy to imagine why.
It smelled like urine and cat food. A man who thought he was Bez shambled ambidextrously between the bar and an imaginary cliff edge near the seating, while a selection of weird but oft enjoyable surf rock and other poorly recorded oddities blasted distortedly out of the straining speakers. Yep. This was to be our night mapped out. Significantly more Moonshine would be required....
Wherein lies, of course, the trick, since before I knew it I was having a bloody great time as I should have remembered I always do in the Washie. Great friends, great beer and the amusing irregularity of its disheveled features made this, and continues to make this, an excellent venue.
So concludes my round up of a thirsty week. Not a plan of action I recommend you try and copy, but on the other hand, if you are going to take 5 days off the grog, it may as well be for a good reason.
Your very best health
WB
as previously mentioned (possibly?), the primary reason for my self enforced abstinence this week is recognition that I have somewhat overdone May so far. Having been out almost every night for two weeks even I had the remaining brain power to surmise that actually I'd been very silly. Not that I hadn't enjoyed being very silly. Its rather fun, I tend to find.
Anyhoo, this shaky procession of dry hours gives me the chance to catch up on some news about said events, which I hope to accurately convey hereafter.
Wednesday (not today, keep up!) was Wanderiains day, and since it was switching between sunshine and pouring rain so it seemed only sensible to walk to the Gardeners Rest. This time we broke with tradition and settled in the snug on the left, taking with us pints of Long Itch Light relief for me and a weaker offering of theirs for Mr P. Neither were exactly accomplished beers, but were refreshing, so we quickly dispatched them and moved onto a pint of Pennine Test match for Mr P and a pint of Blue Bee Brown Ball for me. And yes, it really is the bitterest brown beer in Sheffield.
A quick walk round to the Ship followed but in our haste we had arrived early so decamped to the Wellington for halves of Little Ale Cart Sir William something with an A in it (my notes offer Blake, Sage and Gage - chances are its none). Then we nipped back over the road to find the footy on in the Ship, where I had a pint and a half of the Deception and Mr P a surprisingly palatable Bradfield Rhubarb bitter. It was nice to sit in the left hand side watching the sun stream through the windows, and it was a shame to leave to be honest.
I finished in Shakespeares where I chatted to Keith and big Ron about pubs and supped a pint of Rat Brewery Light Mild and Hop Studio Black IPA, both of which were in good nick.
Thursday was supposed to be my "day off" but a wall of brain achingly complex work and a weird text from Christingpher about 16.00 heralded another reckless night of refreshments. We met at Shakespeares and I started with a pint of Mallinsons Bramling, which was every bit as good as I'd expected, and went to sit with Christingpher in the beer yard. Alas, the warm sunshine had deserted the area hours ago and before long it was raining so we headed inside, where we both had pints of the same.
Next we traveled to Commonside to visit the Closed Shop where we bumped into Mr Stephens (hardly surprising) and also Dave, AKA Closed Shop Kate. As you know, I;m a big fan of humour by repetition, so in only two years I'll definitely have tired of referring to Dave as Dave. Instead of Kate....
Here there was more glorious beer talk as well as a decent smattering of noise on the jukebox. Christingpher was very sensibly on the Raw Majjic Mild whilst I had two pints of the also excellent Welbeck Abbey Cavendish, before we undertook the rather lengthy but downhill walk to the Ship at Shalesmoor.
So began my second ever proper session in here, ensconced near the jukebox and putting away an ominous number of pints of the Bradfield Rhubarb Bitter. Three hours passed with conversation ranging from random events from our childhood, to classic arguments we'd had with friends. In some ways, a drinking session with some one you've known 35 years is hard to beat. In the end, it was only my ongoing employment that brought this festival of slaking to an end.
Friday I was going out with my dear friend Middlemarch but alas she caught a debilitating illness that meant she didn't even want to go out drinking. So, instead of leaving early for pints I diligently stayed at work til late - then caved in and ran away to the Closed Shop for beer and solace. Luckily, I bumped into Vinnie and Daniel who I'd met at Pete Green's birthday the other day and so ended up gatecrashing their get together.
Here I was on a mixture of Raw Dark Peak Stout, and Blue Bee Blue Ball (not in the same glass you understand) as we got through many hours of chat and numerous pints. It was great getting to know Vinnie and Daniel, along with Mark, Leila, and Steve, and catching up with Father O'Matic and Kiri, but eventually, and unfortunately, it became something past one and I had to go home.
My last night out of this post (there will be a separate one about another Manchester area crawl to come) saw me out for the unofficial Carlos' birthday night out. To be quite honest by this time I was starting to sense that I was pushing my luck living-wise so decreed to meet as late as possible and leave at a sensible time. In the end everyone was late, as befits a Carlos do, and I made the last bus.
We started in the Hop and I had a pint of Green Jack Trawler Boys, which tasted fine but by the end had developed a detectable compost bin nose, so I moved onto Abbeydale Devotion next. We sat upstairs with Jambon (for a bit), Carlos, Mole, Angie, Wee Keefy and Toastie, before the band started playing, and the situation with the blocked men's urinal started to tell. One final pint was supped in here, Ossett Challenger, which was the best so far, before we headed to the Washington.
The Washington is the default later on destination of virtually everyone my age. Its always had a place in my heart and I've had many fab nights there. Plus, the eclectic crowd and somehow always palatable cloudy Moonshine wins it many plaudits. However, it seems to be fast securing a place in my mind as one of the stranger pubs in Sheffield. Its like it was 50 when I first visited 20 years ago (it actually opened in 1839, but lets not confuse my metaphor) and now its a much loved, slightly doddery place where flashbacks and confusion abound.
On Saturday we got in about 22.00 and it was not too busy (I mean, no-one goes in before midnight, right?) and having secured our pint of surprisingly ace Moonshine we ventured into the "Deep End" i.e the two rooms to the right with the glitter balls and DJ in. The room was virtually empty and it was easy to imagine why.
It smelled like urine and cat food. A man who thought he was Bez shambled ambidextrously between the bar and an imaginary cliff edge near the seating, while a selection of weird but oft enjoyable surf rock and other poorly recorded oddities blasted distortedly out of the straining speakers. Yep. This was to be our night mapped out. Significantly more Moonshine would be required....
Wherein lies, of course, the trick, since before I knew it I was having a bloody great time as I should have remembered I always do in the Washie. Great friends, great beer and the amusing irregularity of its disheveled features made this, and continues to make this, an excellent venue.
So concludes my round up of a thirsty week. Not a plan of action I recommend you try and copy, but on the other hand, if you are going to take 5 days off the grog, it may as well be for a good reason.
Your very best health
WB
Sunday, 3 March 2013
Celebration crawl
Evening,
myself and Mr P finally got out on our Wanderians on Wednesday, the day I found out I'd got a job interview. Not quite as tankard clinking and boisterous a piece of news as getting the bugger, but reason enough to celebrate. Because, you know. Normally I lead a virtually dry Methodist existence, with alcohol only passing my lips under duress. Di blah.
I had hoped for a Commonside jaunt as The Closed Shop is rapidly becoming my new favourite pub - more to come on that subject no doubt over the next month. One thing I'll quickly say is that its testament to the hard work of Mr Stephens from the death star canteen, to access the widest possible range of beers within the terms of his lease, that he has so consistently put on exceptional beer. Not every micro brewery is good, is kind of what I'm saying.
Anyhoo, this wander started after a brisk yomp through the unpromising territory of Neepsend, and up to Rutland Street, and the Woodside Inn. Landlord Gary was on hand to dispense warm greetings and cool beer. Better still, he had the Toolmakers Razmataz on. The former Forest pub, is the nearest licensed premises to the brewery.
I was a little confused when he said they'd only been in a week; not knowing much about the rapidly changing licensing history of the pub I didn't want to seem like I knew nothing, when in reality that is the case. I thought it reopened before Christmas, sorry, I know it reopened before Christmas, but that the incumbents then were still there now. Either way it didn't matter. Because the beer was good, and it was only £2.50 a pint. Or similar....
We stopped for two in the end, I had a brief chat with Gary about ales and his intention to regularly stock Toolmakers products. He actually had two Wood Street beers on as well, and I was offered a try of the Golden Larch. It wasn't in bad condition, but it was an odd mix of sweet malt with a bitter bite in the aftertaste. Interestingly, talking to Shakespeare Martin (no relation to the pub) at Magna yesterday, he said their beers had been on top form at The Hillsborough. Perhaps I should pop down to try them. And get over myself.
Off to the Gardeners Rest next and back on familiar Wanderians territory. Here I had a pint of Mulberry Duck brewery Wildfowler Mild, alas I forget what Mr P had but it was a pleasant pale ale. The Wildfowler was, erm, interesting. It probably comes under the category twiggy, but there was no crystal malt lurking in the mix - there was just too much mix. Not unpleasant though. Far better was my half of Early Dawn from Hayrake brewery, which was very enjoyable.
Our final, Mr P's anyway, stop was the Ship. As always 3 excellent beers were on, and we both had pints of Chantry Brewery Iron and Steel, a 4.0% darkish bitter at £2.65 a pint. As always there was an enjoyable mix of catchy, fiendishly catchy and achingly uncool tunes from the past to keep us amused, and a decent number of customers to drown out my somewhat late toasts.
After Mr P had headed home I popped in the Wellington across the roundabout and had an excellent half of the Little Ale Cart Darlington and what might have been their latest single hopped ale - in fact, it was, but I cleverly deleted the text containing this information in a bid to free up space on my creakily slow phone. For precisely no benefit.
I jumped off the tram at the University next and went to the Bath Hotel for a pint of Dark Star Festival and the brilliant 1910 Porter, which I topped off with a sneaky Halcyon, possibly on cask, but am not sure (last night it was on Keykeg and cask). It was nice to get to try some new (to me) Dark Star beers, and equally enjoyable to slake some Halcyon. Talking of which, as above, I was also in last night supping a couple of pints of that fantastic haze maker. It was great to finish on such an epic beer, and to catch up with Geoff, and John, from the now disbanded Sheffield beer board. A scheme or concept that none of you know anything about, because, erm, we never set it up, and I never mentioned it...
Business ideas eh!
Wee Beefy
myself and Mr P finally got out on our Wanderians on Wednesday, the day I found out I'd got a job interview. Not quite as tankard clinking and boisterous a piece of news as getting the bugger, but reason enough to celebrate. Because, you know. Normally I lead a virtually dry Methodist existence, with alcohol only passing my lips under duress. Di blah.
I had hoped for a Commonside jaunt as The Closed Shop is rapidly becoming my new favourite pub - more to come on that subject no doubt over the next month. One thing I'll quickly say is that its testament to the hard work of Mr Stephens from the death star canteen, to access the widest possible range of beers within the terms of his lease, that he has so consistently put on exceptional beer. Not every micro brewery is good, is kind of what I'm saying.
Anyhoo, this wander started after a brisk yomp through the unpromising territory of Neepsend, and up to Rutland Street, and the Woodside Inn. Landlord Gary was on hand to dispense warm greetings and cool beer. Better still, he had the Toolmakers Razmataz on. The former Forest pub, is the nearest licensed premises to the brewery.
I was a little confused when he said they'd only been in a week; not knowing much about the rapidly changing licensing history of the pub I didn't want to seem like I knew nothing, when in reality that is the case. I thought it reopened before Christmas, sorry, I know it reopened before Christmas, but that the incumbents then were still there now. Either way it didn't matter. Because the beer was good, and it was only £2.50 a pint. Or similar....
We stopped for two in the end, I had a brief chat with Gary about ales and his intention to regularly stock Toolmakers products. He actually had two Wood Street beers on as well, and I was offered a try of the Golden Larch. It wasn't in bad condition, but it was an odd mix of sweet malt with a bitter bite in the aftertaste. Interestingly, talking to Shakespeare Martin (no relation to the pub) at Magna yesterday, he said their beers had been on top form at The Hillsborough. Perhaps I should pop down to try them. And get over myself.
Off to the Gardeners Rest next and back on familiar Wanderians territory. Here I had a pint of Mulberry Duck brewery Wildfowler Mild, alas I forget what Mr P had but it was a pleasant pale ale. The Wildfowler was, erm, interesting. It probably comes under the category twiggy, but there was no crystal malt lurking in the mix - there was just too much mix. Not unpleasant though. Far better was my half of Early Dawn from Hayrake brewery, which was very enjoyable.
Our final, Mr P's anyway, stop was the Ship. As always 3 excellent beers were on, and we both had pints of Chantry Brewery Iron and Steel, a 4.0% darkish bitter at £2.65 a pint. As always there was an enjoyable mix of catchy, fiendishly catchy and achingly uncool tunes from the past to keep us amused, and a decent number of customers to drown out my somewhat late toasts.
After Mr P had headed home I popped in the Wellington across the roundabout and had an excellent half of the Little Ale Cart Darlington and what might have been their latest single hopped ale - in fact, it was, but I cleverly deleted the text containing this information in a bid to free up space on my creakily slow phone. For precisely no benefit.
I jumped off the tram at the University next and went to the Bath Hotel for a pint of Dark Star Festival and the brilliant 1910 Porter, which I topped off with a sneaky Halcyon, possibly on cask, but am not sure (last night it was on Keykeg and cask). It was nice to get to try some new (to me) Dark Star beers, and equally enjoyable to slake some Halcyon. Talking of which, as above, I was also in last night supping a couple of pints of that fantastic haze maker. It was great to finish on such an epic beer, and to catch up with Geoff, and John, from the now disbanded Sheffield beer board. A scheme or concept that none of you know anything about, because, erm, we never set it up, and I never mentioned it...
Business ideas eh!
Wee Beefy
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