Hello,
the subject of the CAMRA campaign to, in essence, endorse a bottle conditioned beer as being just that is widely recognised to be a well meant disaster that is unhelpful and counterproductive. A slightly negative outlook perhaps, but as someone who has drunk and sold Bottle Conditioned Beers (BCA's) for years, I've had first hand experience of the toxic stock of affirming that something you can't hope to know the taste of is how you define real ale.
Not being a member of the CAMRA (you've seen the CAMRA) I decided to look at their website regarding the above subject here. To be fair, assuming you can get over the sloppiness that leads to them writing "bottle beers" instead of bottled beers, there is a lot more information and useful clarification than I was expecting.
It all sounds very positive and there are good reasons listed for supping a BCA. Disappointingly though, there is no mention of how a brewer gets their product stamped with the logo, and therefore no suggestion of a quality processes. And more damning is reason number 10 for drinking real ale in a bottle - that it tastes better.
To avoid going over old ground lets just remember that a lot of BCA, or, if you must, RAIB, tastes like drek. Sour, soupy, frothing, blobbing, earthy, tart murkiness that usually ends up making its final journey down your sink.
Against that backdrop its notable just how many breweries stick the logo on their bottle labels. What I hadn't thought about was, quite a lot don't. Why?
As you know, on Sunday I held a beer tasting at Beefy Towers (not sure about this moniker...) and we drank some stupendously good beer. What struck me today putting the empty bottles in the recycle bin (ooh get me!) was that only 2 of them carried the CAMRA logo. That, despite the fact that 9 of the 16 beers we drunk were bottle conditioned. Worse, but almost predictably so, the 2 that carried the logo were the least enjoyable of the night.
Admittedly I don't know when the logo started to be used so perhaps the 2006,2007 and 2008 Thornbridge and Fullers beers did not have it to use but Kernel's beers were all BCA as was Ilkley's. Fullers continue to produce their Vintage ale and I don't think I've spotted the CAMRA logo on it.
All sorts of contributory factors can lead to a BCA being a disappointment but in this line up the BCA's sporting the logo were the poor cousins of some impeccable bottled royalty.
Given the huge number of dire producers and products proudly informing the consumer that this is what CAMRA thinks beer should taste like (because its not immediately obvious that its an indicator of secondary fermentation) is it possible perhaps that Ilkley, Kernel and Thornbridge don't think the logo is necessary?
Or do they just not want to be associated with a white elephant concept synonymous with hobby bottlers and undrinkable beer?
Wee Beefy
Showing posts with label off beer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label off beer. Show all posts
Thursday, 24 January 2013
Tuesday, 11 September 2012
The Devil's in the detail
Morning,
I have to stifle a snigger when I read the phrase of the title because its one of many I have attributed to "management" at my employer, and is therefore, of course, to be used sarcastically, and to mock the inconsistencies of messages received from such people.
How apt then, that this cliche applies to bottle conditioned beer labelling, what I see plenty of.
I know from years of experience of Bottle Conditioned Beers (BCA), that there's a tried and tested formula to avoiding fountains, fobbing, foam and frustration. Admittedly this formula relies on the product being drinkable, and Christ, that's a whole other story, but for now I am concentrating on beers you can, or at least could, drink.
I usually chill the BCA in the fridge for half an hour, then let it come back to room temperature. That way its less lively on opening but can still be drunk less chilled if desired. Yet only recently have I noticed any suggestion on BCA bottle labels that the beer should be served cool, or that it could be lively. Here is a range of advice found across a number of excellent bottles, giving mixed messages to the consumer:
Brampton Winter Bock, one of the best bottled beers I tried this year, simply advises that for best results the beer should be "served cooled but not cold, at between 12 and 14 degrees Centigrade".
The Durham Jubilate India Pale Ale advises "Serve at 10 degrees C. This beer may be lively so have a glass to hand when opening". Their 2010 vintage of Temptation advises only "do not serve below 8 degrees C.", and the May 2007 vintage advises that to enjoy the full complexity of flavour it is "best not to chill".
Thornbridge Islay cask reserve stout, bottled 2006, advises only that you "store upright in a dark cool place and pour carefully". Their Alliance sherry cask strong ale, confirms that the bottle contains champagne yeast, and instructs the drinker to "age upright in a cool dark place and pour slowly to allow the natural sediment to remain in the bottle".
Dunham Massey Porter is significantly less verbose and states only that the beer should be served between 12-13 C.
Meanwhile Blue Anchor Spingo advises to "serve slightly chilled and pour with care".
George Gales Prize Old Ale advises "stand for some hours at room temperature" and then, "carefully withdraw the cork and pour slowly"
And finally, Penlon Stock Ram Stout, advises you put the bottle in the fridge for 30 minutes before opening as it is lively! Hurrah! Some decent advice at last! *
The problem with these mixed messages comes when a lack of info results in a poor drinking experience for the consumer. Because the only consistent message seems to be to drink at 8-14 degrees C., and to pour carefully. Only the Spingo (which is an unfailingly dire BCA) suggests chilling to any extent, along with the Penlon beers. The Gales advice is quite detailed, which is ironic, considering how unsophisticated their sherry like offering was, but crucially none of the stronger ales including those you are positively encouraged to age, make any proviso for the obvious result of natural carbonation from the live yeast. Why?
BCA is already a seriously maligned concept suffering from terrible practitioners and poor retailer knowledge. As this shows, a lack of useful labelling advice potentially exacerbates the problem. The label is the producers last chance to influence the consumer's drinking experience, so, whilst label space is limited, maybe include words along the lines of "this beer is conditioned naturally in the bottle and can be lively on opening. For best results please open the bottle chilled to reduce the carbonation. The beer can then be left to reach room temperature, allowing you to fully appreciate the flavours."?
OK, so there's no career for me writing succinct bottle instructions, but the label content is a manageable factor for producers in their products journey to the glass, and easier to control than elements such as the vagaries of staff and retailer knowledge.
Some BCA's don't need chilling. Very few. If chilling reduces the likelihood of more indefensible fountains of failure, then surely that's good advice to impart?
Wee Beefy
*amusingly, Wee Fatha keeps all his BCA's in his "chilled" hallway (non scientific, not always accurate). Without reading the Penlon label I went to open the bottle from the hall at the table, since, last time, there had been a war of attrition between me and Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha to persuade him to refrigerate a wheat beer, which he vehemently opposed as beer "shouldn't need to go in the fridge". And when the Penlon escaped in foam all over his table? He said " you should have put that in the fridge". Thanks for that. The Devil's in the detail it seems....
I have to stifle a snigger when I read the phrase of the title because its one of many I have attributed to "management" at my employer, and is therefore, of course, to be used sarcastically, and to mock the inconsistencies of messages received from such people.
How apt then, that this cliche applies to bottle conditioned beer labelling, what I see plenty of.
I know from years of experience of Bottle Conditioned Beers (BCA), that there's a tried and tested formula to avoiding fountains, fobbing, foam and frustration. Admittedly this formula relies on the product being drinkable, and Christ, that's a whole other story, but for now I am concentrating on beers you can, or at least could, drink.
I usually chill the BCA in the fridge for half an hour, then let it come back to room temperature. That way its less lively on opening but can still be drunk less chilled if desired. Yet only recently have I noticed any suggestion on BCA bottle labels that the beer should be served cool, or that it could be lively. Here is a range of advice found across a number of excellent bottles, giving mixed messages to the consumer:
Brampton Winter Bock, one of the best bottled beers I tried this year, simply advises that for best results the beer should be "served cooled but not cold, at between 12 and 14 degrees Centigrade".
The Durham Jubilate India Pale Ale advises "Serve at 10 degrees C. This beer may be lively so have a glass to hand when opening". Their 2010 vintage of Temptation advises only "do not serve below 8 degrees C.", and the May 2007 vintage advises that to enjoy the full complexity of flavour it is "best not to chill".
Thornbridge Islay cask reserve stout, bottled 2006, advises only that you "store upright in a dark cool place and pour carefully". Their Alliance sherry cask strong ale, confirms that the bottle contains champagne yeast, and instructs the drinker to "age upright in a cool dark place and pour slowly to allow the natural sediment to remain in the bottle".
Dunham Massey Porter is significantly less verbose and states only that the beer should be served between 12-13 C.
Meanwhile Blue Anchor Spingo advises to "serve slightly chilled and pour with care".
George Gales Prize Old Ale advises "stand for some hours at room temperature" and then, "carefully withdraw the cork and pour slowly"
And finally, Penlon Stock Ram Stout, advises you put the bottle in the fridge for 30 minutes before opening as it is lively! Hurrah! Some decent advice at last! *
The problem with these mixed messages comes when a lack of info results in a poor drinking experience for the consumer. Because the only consistent message seems to be to drink at 8-14 degrees C., and to pour carefully. Only the Spingo (which is an unfailingly dire BCA) suggests chilling to any extent, along with the Penlon beers. The Gales advice is quite detailed, which is ironic, considering how unsophisticated their sherry like offering was, but crucially none of the stronger ales including those you are positively encouraged to age, make any proviso for the obvious result of natural carbonation from the live yeast. Why?
BCA is already a seriously maligned concept suffering from terrible practitioners and poor retailer knowledge. As this shows, a lack of useful labelling advice potentially exacerbates the problem. The label is the producers last chance to influence the consumer's drinking experience, so, whilst label space is limited, maybe include words along the lines of "this beer is conditioned naturally in the bottle and can be lively on opening. For best results please open the bottle chilled to reduce the carbonation. The beer can then be left to reach room temperature, allowing you to fully appreciate the flavours."?
OK, so there's no career for me writing succinct bottle instructions, but the label content is a manageable factor for producers in their products journey to the glass, and easier to control than elements such as the vagaries of staff and retailer knowledge.
Some BCA's don't need chilling. Very few. If chilling reduces the likelihood of more indefensible fountains of failure, then surely that's good advice to impart?
Wee Beefy
*amusingly, Wee Fatha keeps all his BCA's in his "chilled" hallway (non scientific, not always accurate). Without reading the Penlon label I went to open the bottle from the hall at the table, since, last time, there had been a war of attrition between me and Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha to persuade him to refrigerate a wheat beer, which he vehemently opposed as beer "shouldn't need to go in the fridge". And when the Penlon escaped in foam all over his table? He said " you should have put that in the fridge". Thanks for that. The Devil's in the detail it seems....
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Open It Big Lad! Open it man!
Good evening,
there I was Saturday night, preparing myself for a very important early kick off in the realm of association football the very next day, and I decided to unleash the wild exotic flavours of one of my old stored beers, maybe as an emboldening of will, or a pre-emptive soother of hurt feelings. As it turned out, this random unplanned decision seemed to accidentally tie in with an event on that Twitter.
Despite not being a Tweetoid, I noted from reading a couple of beer blogs (the first two both in dear old Sheff) that something was on the cards, or rather, that it had been and was now finished. Over the next few days I noticed that a lot of prominent bloggers had partook. The event? #Open It!
Now, putting aside my pickiness about the hash key* (!*=x#!) I perceived that this event was recklessly encouraging the despoiling of a treasured collection of ales. My collection is nearing 20 years old now and is continuously added to. The above justification for opening my bottle reflects the daunting magnitude of the coming event, but I was a little uneasy about the idea that all of a sudden half of the world's aged beers would be lost in a drunken tweet induced haze.
That said, this is not the root cause of my lack or partaking, that lies expressly in my lack of Twitter registration. But it still serves as a rubbish excuse for my being out of the loop, and reporting on something almost a week late....
Anyhoo, to clarify, Open It saw lots of folks across Twitter opening their saved bottles of beer. For more details and a handy logo see the article at the excellent Barl Fire blog (Open it at Barl Fire ). Now I was clear what the idea was, I could rejoice in the random happenstance of my opening an aged beer at the very same time as bloggers and tweeters the world over were accessing their hoards of special occasion bottles. And now I had a beer to tell you about into the bargain. Happy days.
My first offering was Abbaye Des Rocs Speciale Noel, 9.0% from Belgium. I bought it at ARBS yonks ago, and it may be from 2007. Maybe 2008.
It pours dark chestnut brown, almost black, with a thick consistency. It smells like all good aged beer does, but there are a lot of complex alcohol hints in there, particularly brandy, and sherry. There is also marmalade, orange zest and malt. It says "sit down fat boy. You 'll need a rest".
The taste is almost overpowering but quickly becomes sensational with tangerine, sweet alcoholic bite and sherry tones. This initial burst peters out a little and balance comes from the strengthened malt overtones, and a complimentary yeasty taste, which seems to make the mouthfeel warmer and somehow, more alcoholic. As you continue drinking the alcohol is most detectable in the nose.... and the legs. The overall might of flavours is simultaneously enjoyable, but lets you know you have had a strong beer.
There is no head retention until you add the yeast - arguably the yeast perhaps ought to be added in the first instance.
Overall - 8.8 - a scintillating lesson in layered flavours and complimentary ageing of an ale, in the redoubtable Belgian style.
After that joyous experiment I decided to find out what others had experienced whilst joining in. Reading some of the beers that other bloggers have dispatched in the name of Open It, its clearly been a celebration of some of the best and alas, the worst, of beer bottling from around the world. This made me think that I should perhaps open a second of my collection..... So, next up is a beer that I bought from the Dram Shop, Commonside.
I bought 3 bottles of Old Bear brewery beer at the same time. I have had two (both Bruin mild, and WF had one; they have all been rank, undrinkable caskets of cack). So, I thought, I had nothing to lose. I knew Dave had opened his (bottle of this) and poured that away as well, so all I was doing in opening this beer was saving myself disappointment later on.
So the beer chosen was Old Bear Capstan F.S 12.5 %.
My concern was immediately roused by the Best Before date. Given that a 12.5% BCA beer should last about 4 to 20 years with the right yeast, September 2011 seemed a little cautious - granted I don't know when it was bottled, but I only bought it in 2009 or 2010. What could explain such reticence?
Well, all too quickly, my trepidation was justified.
Firstly, there was no carbonation. It poured, clear, and I was able to leave the yeast in the bottle, bar a few clumps of odd coloured detritus that sunk to the bottom of the glass. The smell, whilst I was (essentially) photographing the brew, was initially pleasing. A whole surge of aged alcohol and malt came to the fore but all too quickly was tinged with yeasty badness.
The colour however, was a revelation - a vibrant chestnut brown, with dark amber notes, but with almost no head, except for a microfiine Disprin tidemark as you drank.
In reality Disprin would have been a delicious addition to this one dimensional morass of grim features.
The aroma has quickly shifted form friend to foe. The strong alcohol waft does not dissipate but too soon the yeasty sour fruits arrive and you are left wondering where the hints of balanced malt and bitter in the initial aroma have gone. All these jarring grimace inducing pongs assemble in the first taste. And worse is to come.
Once sips two and three pass your lips you're moustache deep in a trough of sharp yeast. Now the subtle hints of orange and remaining alcohol notes give way to a more prevalent off beer hum. Fruit flavours become soured and apart form a suggestion of peach preserved in alcohol, its yeast in the driving seat from now on.
Its neither as good as it looks or originally smelt. Its unsubtle and utterly one dimensional. As I offered the beer to Chala to get a fresh palate assessment, she refused even to taste it, but said the smell reminded her or sour cherry - I thought of rotting plums when you tip them in the compost bin. Adding the yeast in a desperate attempt to coax some balance from the tangy soup only serves to exacerbate the problem. Its simply an unpleasant beer, half of which I pour away...
So there you have it.
Storing beer for a special occasion (or social media experiment) is a joyous and disappointing experience, depending on which beers you try. Its been encouraging to see good reviews of beers I still have stored, as well as evidence that some beers don't age, or that the yeast is not up to scratch.
The major downsides are pertinent though.
Who says this is real ale?
Firstly, people usually buy strong bottled beer at a premium price, and many years before they intend to open it. Receipts are tricky in such cases, especially if you get them off a market stall or when on holiday.
Worst of all though, this dreadful offering proudly proclaims "CAMRA says this is real ale!". Once more, the folly of encouraging brewers to pour beer and yeast into a bottle and allowing the label to pronounce that this is how beer should taste is writ large. This bizarre promotional claim is either misguided, arrogant or stupid. If I didn't drink real ale and tasted that beer, what conclusion would I draw? That real ale was a nice drink?
Of course not. Its the most damaging idea CAMRA have had since they pursued taking pubs out of the GBG that sold fake-pump Addlestones. And in the end, they get to share the shame of the brewer for producing a product not fit for sale.
Lets try a new scheme instead - "The brewer of this beer wants you to tell them what you think".
To avoid the prevarication and timely efforts of finding the brewers address and wording your letter to suit, just bang some brief comments on a specially set up website or postal address, for all brewers foisting BCA's on us to see, and let them read (or hear) just how crap their offerings so often are - and then publish the results each month. Soon put off the hobby bottlers and novelty short run brewers.....
Humph.
Wee Beefy.
*(surely any title starting with a hash symbol or octothorpe means its a measurement of something - in America it can relate to the cost, I see it as a number in a series, but the twitosphere intend it to mean a keyword or phrase about something. In my day (etc).....)
there I was Saturday night, preparing myself for a very important early kick off in the realm of association football the very next day, and I decided to unleash the wild exotic flavours of one of my old stored beers, maybe as an emboldening of will, or a pre-emptive soother of hurt feelings. As it turned out, this random unplanned decision seemed to accidentally tie in with an event on that Twitter.
Despite not being a Tweetoid, I noted from reading a couple of beer blogs (the first two both in dear old Sheff) that something was on the cards, or rather, that it had been and was now finished. Over the next few days I noticed that a lot of prominent bloggers had partook. The event? #Open It!
Now, putting aside my pickiness about the hash key* (!*=x#!) I perceived that this event was recklessly encouraging the despoiling of a treasured collection of ales. My collection is nearing 20 years old now and is continuously added to. The above justification for opening my bottle reflects the daunting magnitude of the coming event, but I was a little uneasy about the idea that all of a sudden half of the world's aged beers would be lost in a drunken tweet induced haze.
That said, this is not the root cause of my lack or partaking, that lies expressly in my lack of Twitter registration. But it still serves as a rubbish excuse for my being out of the loop, and reporting on something almost a week late....
Anyhoo, to clarify, Open It saw lots of folks across Twitter opening their saved bottles of beer. For more details and a handy logo see the article at the excellent Barl Fire blog (Open it at Barl Fire ). Now I was clear what the idea was, I could rejoice in the random happenstance of my opening an aged beer at the very same time as bloggers and tweeters the world over were accessing their hoards of special occasion bottles. And now I had a beer to tell you about into the bargain. Happy days.
My first offering was Abbaye Des Rocs Speciale Noel, 9.0% from Belgium. I bought it at ARBS yonks ago, and it may be from 2007. Maybe 2008.
It pours dark chestnut brown, almost black, with a thick consistency. It smells like all good aged beer does, but there are a lot of complex alcohol hints in there, particularly brandy, and sherry. There is also marmalade, orange zest and malt. It says "sit down fat boy. You 'll need a rest".
The taste is almost overpowering but quickly becomes sensational with tangerine, sweet alcoholic bite and sherry tones. This initial burst peters out a little and balance comes from the strengthened malt overtones, and a complimentary yeasty taste, which seems to make the mouthfeel warmer and somehow, more alcoholic. As you continue drinking the alcohol is most detectable in the nose.... and the legs. The overall might of flavours is simultaneously enjoyable, but lets you know you have had a strong beer.
There is no head retention until you add the yeast - arguably the yeast perhaps ought to be added in the first instance.
Overall - 8.8 - a scintillating lesson in layered flavours and complimentary ageing of an ale, in the redoubtable Belgian style.
After that joyous experiment I decided to find out what others had experienced whilst joining in. Reading some of the beers that other bloggers have dispatched in the name of Open It, its clearly been a celebration of some of the best and alas, the worst, of beer bottling from around the world. This made me think that I should perhaps open a second of my collection..... So, next up is a beer that I bought from the Dram Shop, Commonside.
I bought 3 bottles of Old Bear brewery beer at the same time. I have had two (both Bruin mild, and WF had one; they have all been rank, undrinkable caskets of cack). So, I thought, I had nothing to lose. I knew Dave had opened his (bottle of this) and poured that away as well, so all I was doing in opening this beer was saving myself disappointment later on.
So the beer chosen was Old Bear Capstan F.S 12.5 %.
My concern was immediately roused by the Best Before date. Given that a 12.5% BCA beer should last about 4 to 20 years with the right yeast, September 2011 seemed a little cautious - granted I don't know when it was bottled, but I only bought it in 2009 or 2010. What could explain such reticence?
Well, all too quickly, my trepidation was justified.
Firstly, there was no carbonation. It poured, clear, and I was able to leave the yeast in the bottle, bar a few clumps of odd coloured detritus that sunk to the bottom of the glass. The smell, whilst I was (essentially) photographing the brew, was initially pleasing. A whole surge of aged alcohol and malt came to the fore but all too quickly was tinged with yeasty badness.
The colour however, was a revelation - a vibrant chestnut brown, with dark amber notes, but with almost no head, except for a microfiine Disprin tidemark as you drank.
In reality Disprin would have been a delicious addition to this one dimensional morass of grim features.
The aroma has quickly shifted form friend to foe. The strong alcohol waft does not dissipate but too soon the yeasty sour fruits arrive and you are left wondering where the hints of balanced malt and bitter in the initial aroma have gone. All these jarring grimace inducing pongs assemble in the first taste. And worse is to come.
Once sips two and three pass your lips you're moustache deep in a trough of sharp yeast. Now the subtle hints of orange and remaining alcohol notes give way to a more prevalent off beer hum. Fruit flavours become soured and apart form a suggestion of peach preserved in alcohol, its yeast in the driving seat from now on.
Its neither as good as it looks or originally smelt. Its unsubtle and utterly one dimensional. As I offered the beer to Chala to get a fresh palate assessment, she refused even to taste it, but said the smell reminded her or sour cherry - I thought of rotting plums when you tip them in the compost bin. Adding the yeast in a desperate attempt to coax some balance from the tangy soup only serves to exacerbate the problem. Its simply an unpleasant beer, half of which I pour away...
So there you have it.
Storing beer for a special occasion (or social media experiment) is a joyous and disappointing experience, depending on which beers you try. Its been encouraging to see good reviews of beers I still have stored, as well as evidence that some beers don't age, or that the yeast is not up to scratch.
The major downsides are pertinent though.
Who says this is real ale?
Firstly, people usually buy strong bottled beer at a premium price, and many years before they intend to open it. Receipts are tricky in such cases, especially if you get them off a market stall or when on holiday.
Worst of all though, this dreadful offering proudly proclaims "CAMRA says this is real ale!". Once more, the folly of encouraging brewers to pour beer and yeast into a bottle and allowing the label to pronounce that this is how beer should taste is writ large. This bizarre promotional claim is either misguided, arrogant or stupid. If I didn't drink real ale and tasted that beer, what conclusion would I draw? That real ale was a nice drink?
Of course not. Its the most damaging idea CAMRA have had since they pursued taking pubs out of the GBG that sold fake-pump Addlestones. And in the end, they get to share the shame of the brewer for producing a product not fit for sale.
Lets try a new scheme instead - "The brewer of this beer wants you to tell them what you think".
To avoid the prevarication and timely efforts of finding the brewers address and wording your letter to suit, just bang some brief comments on a specially set up website or postal address, for all brewers foisting BCA's on us to see, and let them read (or hear) just how crap their offerings so often are - and then publish the results each month. Soon put off the hobby bottlers and novelty short run brewers.....
Humph.
Wee Beefy.
*(surely any title starting with a hash symbol or octothorpe means its a measurement of something - in America it can relate to the cost, I see it as a number in a series, but the twitosphere intend it to mean a keyword or phrase about something. In my day (etc).....)
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
New years beers in West Sheffield, Crosspool and nearer home.
Ay up beer monsters,
I have quite a lo to tell you about today so will do two posts in order to make the info more easy to digest. First, here are the details of my trip to West Sheffield yesterday, and some beer news from way back in December which eluded me.
Sportsman, Crosspool
Back in 2011 I was in here to meet up with Bobert, Coops, Big G and Mick amongst others, for a pre Christmas drink. The Sportsman, whilst never having been my hostelry of choice in the area (I used to go in the Bell Hagg in the nineties, and never really felt compelled to drink in the Crosspool Tavern at any time) and its a while since I was last in before this visit - I seem to remember it was early nineties and me and pathos Brian were in to share a half prior to meeting friends. It wasn't resolutely traditional then, but did at least have the now novel feature of separate rooms, as all pubs should.
It was with some dismay that I noticed the homogenised signatures of the Ember Inns chain, indicating to me that i would virtually know the much changed interior already : lots of pale wood, a big dark chunky bar, many dividing walls replaced with boxes of sawn down pine logs, and much soft furnishings. And so it was to be, my Mystic Meg predictions came true, but what I hadn't forseen was the beer range.
On the bar were Tetleys cask (now brewed in Northampton or somewhere ), Leeds Pale, Keltek King, Orkney Dark Island and another offering that I have managed to forget. Both the Leeds and the Orkney were tried, and were found to be in good nick, and not too expensive either - I think the Leeds came in at about £2.60 a pint. Round the corner of the bar, the upcoming brews were advertised by being on the furthest pump clips. This practice is guaranteed to wind me up as it creates a false expectation but at least I was intercepted en route to inspecting the pumps by a member of staff who made it clear they were coming soon (and on closer inspection there were small "flags " atop each pump clip attesting the same).
So, overall this was a surprising and quite pleasant discovery. I thank my lucky stars that i don't have to make a food pub my local, since its atmosphere vacuum means its a transient rather than a long comfortable session venue, but the beer range shows imagination and the pricing is logical and sensible. At least you can be assured of something worth drinking if you end up in the Sportsman.
West of Sheffield wander.
I went up to see Davefromtshop in his native Woodseats and we went on a brief but interesting crawl around some of the pubs that the area had to offer, starting on Fraser Road at the Ale house, previously known as the Sheaf.
The Ale House
Owing to the period between New Years day and the first proper weekend of the new year also being a weird time in terms of pub openings, we approached the pub with trepidation - partly because of its design, a modern possibly 1960's bungalow style estate pub making it seem dark and unopen almost all of the time during the day. Luckily and gratefully we spotted the door open and went inside for a look.
The bar sports 7 handpumps, but two beers had run out over the busy new year period. As Tony the gaffer pointed out, he is a massive fan of Saltaire beers so there were 4 of them, and one other, that being Gorlovka stout from Acorn. I tried the Saltaire Winter Tipple but despite it not being listed sniffed out some unwarranted spice shenanigans, so I went for a pint of the Cacscade, described as the Ale House beer of the year, and fully deserving the accolade. Dave had a half of the winter and the Triple chocolate. All 3 beers were very well kept, and having enjoyed a chat with Tony we decided to stop for an extra half - both of us had the excellent Gorlovka.
If you want to stay up to date with the pub and bands that they may be having on, or sometimes details of upcoming ales, you can find them on Facebook at Ale House Sheffield .
White Lion, Heeley
Next we took a walk down Cawthorne Grove out onto Archer road and down Little London Road to the White Lion at Heeley. This was reassuringly lit up, which was good news, since we had figured we had plenty of time to kill before we could be sure that our final destination was going to be open. A range of about 7 real ales was on, and to our delight, the bar snug was empty so we had chance to sit in there and soak up the atmosphere.
I had a pint of the Thornbridge Sequoia, which am warming to, and Dave the Ossett Silver King. Both were in good form, with the Sequoia perhaps edging it for me. It was also nice to soak up the sense of history in this redoubtable old boozer in the impressively retained original snug, a credit to Tetley that they took enough interest in the pub to retain its original layout (even if the rooms at the back are a recent addition).
The grim spectre of expectation
This visit allowed us chance to discuss and see in actinon the concept of expectation and opinion, in relation to pubs. Expectation, I think, plays a crucial and unavoidable role in your assessment of a pub or its beers. It also of course prevails in other aspects of daily life, which was manifest in the coming discourse, and in an interesting rule I noticed pinned up behind the bar. It advised that persons wearing a hoodie or baseball cap (and assuming not politely offering to remove them) will be asked to leave the premises.
Me and Dave both thought this was a rarely seen edict, and this is what started our discussion over two delicious halves of Thornbridge Jaipur. The rule was not one that either of us disagreed with - but then you have to ask yourself - why is this an issue? Well, because once more, expectations, perhaps here crossing over into prejudice, are at work.
I can only assume that the rule came about because of either perceived behaviour associated with persons wearing such attire, or actual encountered behaviour from the same. I have always found dress codes a contentious issue, but this seems to conveniently open apply when they affect me! I was once denied entry to a Wetherspoons in Ayr because I was wearing walking boots - behind the bouncer were people chucking fag ends and ash onto the floor, swilling from bottles and using a breathtaking array of middle English. Luckily, for the sake of humanity, none of them had stooped so low as to wear boots, thank God!
Curiously here though, I recognised that I like the rule writer had an expectation that a person wearing the above attire may well be one bringing trouble, and that's interesting - I don't own a hoodie or a baseball cap, because I am a mature adult not a 12 year old boy - but here was an expectation that I had, matched by the licensee, which quite blatantly painted a huge group of persons as being unsuitable visitors to the pub. I wondered how many other pubs carried out so specific a dress code,and what the reasons were - does anyone know of any others in Shiny Sheffield?
Our next study of expectations surrounded our final destination, the Broadfield Ale House on Abbeydale Road. I used to visit the pub a lot in the days when it was run by an experienced landlord, under the iron grip of Pub maniacs Sherwood Inns. I remember its faux antique furnishings, expensive beer, and odd layout, but also its excellent jukebox and the helpful bar staff who used to give us tastes of increasingly perilously hot chilli sauces that they kept buying. Meanwhile, I have been to the Old House and the York, and their shared ownership with the Broadfield meant I had a clear expectation of what I would find.
The snug was quickly filled up with drinkers returning from a visit to said pub. One was quick to provide a soundbite "shite" and was quickly backed by his companions who elucidated further. Choice comments included "its not how I remember it", "I had a lager served in a warm glass" and, tellingly "the stout was an OK drink of beer, but it didn't taste of chocolate at all, it was nothing like the description on the sign in front of the pump". This nugget was most interesting because the story changed when repeated to the licensee, to "I had two shit pints of beer", which could have been to appease the person dispensing their pint, but was a notable shift in recollection in just a couple of minutes. Notwithstanding the fact that I noted the complainants listed a Guinness and a Carlsberg in their menu of favourite drinks, it occurred to me that there were at least 3 faults which were likely tthe result of expectations not met.
If the lager is warm, use the magic of speech to convey this, and get it replaced - it only needs a slightly colder glass after all. If you expect a beer to taste of chocolate, firstly, that's a slightly odd flavour to desire, but if it doesn't, then advise a staff member, and maybe enquire if something similar is available (bearing in mind that the detection of flavours in beer is entirely subjective). Finally, if your overall expectation is that nothing will have changed, or if its made up of a series of expectations set in narrow parameters that must be met, take a step back! I myself am regularly guilty of making an assessment based purely on what I had expected not being so, rather than whether something is good in its own right. Its the devil on my shoulder all too often and am starting to realise now that it plays an important role in my and most oher peoples assessments.
Shakespeare Well Road
With our brains tired from our discussion, we left the White. Our penultimate venue was a brisk uphill walk from Ponsfords. Having decided that the Sheaf View would be rammed, and that the Shakespeare was likely worthy of a reassessment since I visited in the summer, we had decided to pop in here for a half. On entering up the steps I noted a cider handpump but no signs of real ale. Nervous disappointment spread across our faces as we contemplated having to sneak back out unnoticed - but I spotted the landlady and asked about the availability of the glorious drink, and the option was Doom Bar from Coors. We sighed and decided to stop for a half.
We sat as always (well, that is only twice) in the room that sticks out opposite the bar and overlooks the sheaf valley, and having secured the football results, enjoyed what was a surprisingly decent drink of Doom Bar. What the cellar person had done, was turn a drab market saturated brown beer and made it interesting. Not wishing to overuse the expectation concept, its worth mentioning our expectations that there would be a couple of real ales on at least, and that the Doom Bar would be crap. Neither were met, and our visit was still an enjoyable one. Time now to try and have them met at the Broadfield....
Broadfield Ale House
We entered through the right hand door which used to take you into the separate and far less salubrious right hand games room, but now it takes you into the left hand side, which, erm, well now isn't, its all one large albeit multi-textured and full of different areas, single room. Earlier in the day Dave had remarked that it was hard to find all the handpumps and this proved accurate, they were in 3 separate sections all round the bar and there was no indication that you needed to seek them out because there was no list of the real ales on sale. This was a flawed approach, but one we had expected!
My obvious beer choice was the Abbeydale Chocs Away stout - the unchocolatey beer maligned in the White. Dave had the equally dark and interestingly more stout like Springhead Leveller which was very nice, and both beers were £2.85, which is on par with other pubs nearby. And the stout? Well, it did taste of chocolate, but chocolate malt, not actual dairy milk. Perhaps the description should have made this clear (I didn't see one) but its subjective like I said. And honestly, who expects beer to taste like chocolate anyway? Beer tastes of beer and its inclusive ingredients, any similarities except in the case of an actual chocolate beer are therefore entirely co-incidental.
We found a seat in the busy pub over to the left of the pub facing the bar with the whisky selection behind - curiously, the visitors we saw earlier had failed to pick up on this incredible and impressive collection, although, with a beer tasting ahead, I neglected to try one. Although a couple of tables were reserved, which is incredibly frustrating if all you want is to sit down and sup a pint, a kind couple, Sadie and Gareth, let us squeeze onto their table, and even shared a taste of their food with us. It was now that I noticed teher was a delectable menu of comforting fare available. Lets face it, any pub with a separate pie and sausage menu is onto a winner..
We enjoyed our friendly company and our beers and despite being a little disappointed with the beer selling approach, its clearly a pub to revisit in the future. Alas, all too soon we had to escape to Handsworth for our tea, which afforded us a last pub expectation experiment on the way home.
White Rose, Handsworth Road
The White Rose, by virtue of being physically nearer to my house than any other licensed building, is therefore my local. However, apart from a brief mid noughties period where we often went in after work for a meal, I almost never go in, because its really not to my taste. A large modern bungalow style new build, but with none of the character attempted and achieved in the Ale House. A pool table, a restaurant, legions of smokers outside, massive noisy TV screens and a bar groaning with mass market dross. Despite this, it did seem to always at least sell one real ale. So we expected to fit in a quick half of whatever was on offer before we arrived at Beefy Towers (note - this is not a euphemism).
Tetley was the only cask on offer, and having been served and paid £2.25 for our 2 halves, we sat down at the table to discuss where we thought the Tetley's was brewed before simultaneously smelling our beers and pulling a face like a man biting into a mouldy sandwich. It was truly foul. Never mind that it was soupy in appearance, I had been in and had a half of soupy Black Sheep last year which was tolerable, but this was rank.
We took it back to someone who may have been the manager. "Your Tetley's off mate" I helpfully advised. Straightaway the man tried to discredit our claim, by saying it had been tapped for 4 days. Erm, what? This had nothing to do with anything since it was clearly rancid. Dave asked him to taste the beer but he insisted a number of times that it was against company policy, in fact I'm not even sure he accepted our invitation to smell it. He was quite happy to get us something else, but having established that there was no other cask on offer, we asked for our money back instead. The question that bothers me here is, how long has that been on sale, with no-one noticing its foul smell when pulling it through, even assuming anyone had bought any at all since it went on? And why had no-one thought to taste it at anytime? Does company policy forbid the cellarman to test if the beer is suitable for consumption, never mind sale?
Overall, the White Rose may well not be the most suitable pub to sell cask. I have heard staff comment in the past that it sells OK "because the older folks drink it" which is always a a nice thing to hear after you have just ordered it, but its clear that those punters are either staying away or switching to smooth. Once again, expectations kill an experience if they are, in this case so profoundly, not met. So best keep punters expectations to a minimum by making it clear that real ale is not available.
More details later of me and Davefromtshop's beer tasting...
Wee Beefy.
I have quite a lo to tell you about today so will do two posts in order to make the info more easy to digest. First, here are the details of my trip to West Sheffield yesterday, and some beer news from way back in December which eluded me.
Sportsman, Crosspool
Back in 2011 I was in here to meet up with Bobert, Coops, Big G and Mick amongst others, for a pre Christmas drink. The Sportsman, whilst never having been my hostelry of choice in the area (I used to go in the Bell Hagg in the nineties, and never really felt compelled to drink in the Crosspool Tavern at any time) and its a while since I was last in before this visit - I seem to remember it was early nineties and me and pathos Brian were in to share a half prior to meeting friends. It wasn't resolutely traditional then, but did at least have the now novel feature of separate rooms, as all pubs should.
It was with some dismay that I noticed the homogenised signatures of the Ember Inns chain, indicating to me that i would virtually know the much changed interior already : lots of pale wood, a big dark chunky bar, many dividing walls replaced with boxes of sawn down pine logs, and much soft furnishings. And so it was to be, my Mystic Meg predictions came true, but what I hadn't forseen was the beer range.
On the bar were Tetleys cask (now brewed in Northampton or somewhere ), Leeds Pale, Keltek King, Orkney Dark Island and another offering that I have managed to forget. Both the Leeds and the Orkney were tried, and were found to be in good nick, and not too expensive either - I think the Leeds came in at about £2.60 a pint. Round the corner of the bar, the upcoming brews were advertised by being on the furthest pump clips. This practice is guaranteed to wind me up as it creates a false expectation but at least I was intercepted en route to inspecting the pumps by a member of staff who made it clear they were coming soon (and on closer inspection there were small "flags " atop each pump clip attesting the same).
So, overall this was a surprising and quite pleasant discovery. I thank my lucky stars that i don't have to make a food pub my local, since its atmosphere vacuum means its a transient rather than a long comfortable session venue, but the beer range shows imagination and the pricing is logical and sensible. At least you can be assured of something worth drinking if you end up in the Sportsman.
West of Sheffield wander.
I went up to see Davefromtshop in his native Woodseats and we went on a brief but interesting crawl around some of the pubs that the area had to offer, starting on Fraser Road at the Ale house, previously known as the Sheaf.
The Ale House
Owing to the period between New Years day and the first proper weekend of the new year also being a weird time in terms of pub openings, we approached the pub with trepidation - partly because of its design, a modern possibly 1960's bungalow style estate pub making it seem dark and unopen almost all of the time during the day. Luckily and gratefully we spotted the door open and went inside for a look.
The bar sports 7 handpumps, but two beers had run out over the busy new year period. As Tony the gaffer pointed out, he is a massive fan of Saltaire beers so there were 4 of them, and one other, that being Gorlovka stout from Acorn. I tried the Saltaire Winter Tipple but despite it not being listed sniffed out some unwarranted spice shenanigans, so I went for a pint of the Cacscade, described as the Ale House beer of the year, and fully deserving the accolade. Dave had a half of the winter and the Triple chocolate. All 3 beers were very well kept, and having enjoyed a chat with Tony we decided to stop for an extra half - both of us had the excellent Gorlovka.
If you want to stay up to date with the pub and bands that they may be having on, or sometimes details of upcoming ales, you can find them on Facebook at Ale House Sheffield .
White Lion, Heeley
Next we took a walk down Cawthorne Grove out onto Archer road and down Little London Road to the White Lion at Heeley. This was reassuringly lit up, which was good news, since we had figured we had plenty of time to kill before we could be sure that our final destination was going to be open. A range of about 7 real ales was on, and to our delight, the bar snug was empty so we had chance to sit in there and soak up the atmosphere.
I had a pint of the Thornbridge Sequoia, which am warming to, and Dave the Ossett Silver King. Both were in good form, with the Sequoia perhaps edging it for me. It was also nice to soak up the sense of history in this redoubtable old boozer in the impressively retained original snug, a credit to Tetley that they took enough interest in the pub to retain its original layout (even if the rooms at the back are a recent addition).
The grim spectre of expectation
This visit allowed us chance to discuss and see in actinon the concept of expectation and opinion, in relation to pubs. Expectation, I think, plays a crucial and unavoidable role in your assessment of a pub or its beers. It also of course prevails in other aspects of daily life, which was manifest in the coming discourse, and in an interesting rule I noticed pinned up behind the bar. It advised that persons wearing a hoodie or baseball cap (and assuming not politely offering to remove them) will be asked to leave the premises.
Me and Dave both thought this was a rarely seen edict, and this is what started our discussion over two delicious halves of Thornbridge Jaipur. The rule was not one that either of us disagreed with - but then you have to ask yourself - why is this an issue? Well, because once more, expectations, perhaps here crossing over into prejudice, are at work.
I can only assume that the rule came about because of either perceived behaviour associated with persons wearing such attire, or actual encountered behaviour from the same. I have always found dress codes a contentious issue, but this seems to conveniently open apply when they affect me! I was once denied entry to a Wetherspoons in Ayr because I was wearing walking boots - behind the bouncer were people chucking fag ends and ash onto the floor, swilling from bottles and using a breathtaking array of middle English. Luckily, for the sake of humanity, none of them had stooped so low as to wear boots, thank God!
Curiously here though, I recognised that I like the rule writer had an expectation that a person wearing the above attire may well be one bringing trouble, and that's interesting - I don't own a hoodie or a baseball cap, because I am a mature adult not a 12 year old boy - but here was an expectation that I had, matched by the licensee, which quite blatantly painted a huge group of persons as being unsuitable visitors to the pub. I wondered how many other pubs carried out so specific a dress code,and what the reasons were - does anyone know of any others in Shiny Sheffield?
Our next study of expectations surrounded our final destination, the Broadfield Ale House on Abbeydale Road. I used to visit the pub a lot in the days when it was run by an experienced landlord, under the iron grip of Pub maniacs Sherwood Inns. I remember its faux antique furnishings, expensive beer, and odd layout, but also its excellent jukebox and the helpful bar staff who used to give us tastes of increasingly perilously hot chilli sauces that they kept buying. Meanwhile, I have been to the Old House and the York, and their shared ownership with the Broadfield meant I had a clear expectation of what I would find.
The snug was quickly filled up with drinkers returning from a visit to said pub. One was quick to provide a soundbite "shite" and was quickly backed by his companions who elucidated further. Choice comments included "its not how I remember it", "I had a lager served in a warm glass" and, tellingly "the stout was an OK drink of beer, but it didn't taste of chocolate at all, it was nothing like the description on the sign in front of the pump". This nugget was most interesting because the story changed when repeated to the licensee, to "I had two shit pints of beer", which could have been to appease the person dispensing their pint, but was a notable shift in recollection in just a couple of minutes. Notwithstanding the fact that I noted the complainants listed a Guinness and a Carlsberg in their menu of favourite drinks, it occurred to me that there were at least 3 faults which were likely tthe result of expectations not met.
If the lager is warm, use the magic of speech to convey this, and get it replaced - it only needs a slightly colder glass after all. If you expect a beer to taste of chocolate, firstly, that's a slightly odd flavour to desire, but if it doesn't, then advise a staff member, and maybe enquire if something similar is available (bearing in mind that the detection of flavours in beer is entirely subjective). Finally, if your overall expectation is that nothing will have changed, or if its made up of a series of expectations set in narrow parameters that must be met, take a step back! I myself am regularly guilty of making an assessment based purely on what I had expected not being so, rather than whether something is good in its own right. Its the devil on my shoulder all too often and am starting to realise now that it plays an important role in my and most oher peoples assessments.
Shakespeare Well Road
With our brains tired from our discussion, we left the White. Our penultimate venue was a brisk uphill walk from Ponsfords. Having decided that the Sheaf View would be rammed, and that the Shakespeare was likely worthy of a reassessment since I visited in the summer, we had decided to pop in here for a half. On entering up the steps I noted a cider handpump but no signs of real ale. Nervous disappointment spread across our faces as we contemplated having to sneak back out unnoticed - but I spotted the landlady and asked about the availability of the glorious drink, and the option was Doom Bar from Coors. We sighed and decided to stop for a half.
We sat as always (well, that is only twice) in the room that sticks out opposite the bar and overlooks the sheaf valley, and having secured the football results, enjoyed what was a surprisingly decent drink of Doom Bar. What the cellar person had done, was turn a drab market saturated brown beer and made it interesting. Not wishing to overuse the expectation concept, its worth mentioning our expectations that there would be a couple of real ales on at least, and that the Doom Bar would be crap. Neither were met, and our visit was still an enjoyable one. Time now to try and have them met at the Broadfield....
Broadfield Ale House
We entered through the right hand door which used to take you into the separate and far less salubrious right hand games room, but now it takes you into the left hand side, which, erm, well now isn't, its all one large albeit multi-textured and full of different areas, single room. Earlier in the day Dave had remarked that it was hard to find all the handpumps and this proved accurate, they were in 3 separate sections all round the bar and there was no indication that you needed to seek them out because there was no list of the real ales on sale. This was a flawed approach, but one we had expected!
My obvious beer choice was the Abbeydale Chocs Away stout - the unchocolatey beer maligned in the White. Dave had the equally dark and interestingly more stout like Springhead Leveller which was very nice, and both beers were £2.85, which is on par with other pubs nearby. And the stout? Well, it did taste of chocolate, but chocolate malt, not actual dairy milk. Perhaps the description should have made this clear (I didn't see one) but its subjective like I said. And honestly, who expects beer to taste like chocolate anyway? Beer tastes of beer and its inclusive ingredients, any similarities except in the case of an actual chocolate beer are therefore entirely co-incidental.
We found a seat in the busy pub over to the left of the pub facing the bar with the whisky selection behind - curiously, the visitors we saw earlier had failed to pick up on this incredible and impressive collection, although, with a beer tasting ahead, I neglected to try one. Although a couple of tables were reserved, which is incredibly frustrating if all you want is to sit down and sup a pint, a kind couple, Sadie and Gareth, let us squeeze onto their table, and even shared a taste of their food with us. It was now that I noticed teher was a delectable menu of comforting fare available. Lets face it, any pub with a separate pie and sausage menu is onto a winner..
We enjoyed our friendly company and our beers and despite being a little disappointed with the beer selling approach, its clearly a pub to revisit in the future. Alas, all too soon we had to escape to Handsworth for our tea, which afforded us a last pub expectation experiment on the way home.
White Rose, Handsworth Road
The White Rose, by virtue of being physically nearer to my house than any other licensed building, is therefore my local. However, apart from a brief mid noughties period where we often went in after work for a meal, I almost never go in, because its really not to my taste. A large modern bungalow style new build, but with none of the character attempted and achieved in the Ale House. A pool table, a restaurant, legions of smokers outside, massive noisy TV screens and a bar groaning with mass market dross. Despite this, it did seem to always at least sell one real ale. So we expected to fit in a quick half of whatever was on offer before we arrived at Beefy Towers (note - this is not a euphemism).
Tetley was the only cask on offer, and having been served and paid £2.25 for our 2 halves, we sat down at the table to discuss where we thought the Tetley's was brewed before simultaneously smelling our beers and pulling a face like a man biting into a mouldy sandwich. It was truly foul. Never mind that it was soupy in appearance, I had been in and had a half of soupy Black Sheep last year which was tolerable, but this was rank.
We took it back to someone who may have been the manager. "Your Tetley's off mate" I helpfully advised. Straightaway the man tried to discredit our claim, by saying it had been tapped for 4 days. Erm, what? This had nothing to do with anything since it was clearly rancid. Dave asked him to taste the beer but he insisted a number of times that it was against company policy, in fact I'm not even sure he accepted our invitation to smell it. He was quite happy to get us something else, but having established that there was no other cask on offer, we asked for our money back instead. The question that bothers me here is, how long has that been on sale, with no-one noticing its foul smell when pulling it through, even assuming anyone had bought any at all since it went on? And why had no-one thought to taste it at anytime? Does company policy forbid the cellarman to test if the beer is suitable for consumption, never mind sale?
Overall, the White Rose may well not be the most suitable pub to sell cask. I have heard staff comment in the past that it sells OK "because the older folks drink it" which is always a a nice thing to hear after you have just ordered it, but its clear that those punters are either staying away or switching to smooth. Once again, expectations kill an experience if they are, in this case so profoundly, not met. So best keep punters expectations to a minimum by making it clear that real ale is not available.
More details later of me and Davefromtshop's beer tasting...
Wee Beefy.
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