Evening all,
many weeks ago there wasn't such a thing as new-fangled humid 21degree nights and unbroken sunshine, because we had just stumbled into a meteorologically muddled June. This was the time that I chose to head off for 7 days in Scotland, the country of my birth, the bestower of my nickname, and provider of my most interesting antecedents.
Wee Fatha was to be driver, human guide book and gracious coverer of costs for some of the nights, since originally this was to be a mere 3 night escapade arranged as a present for me and Chala. We started our adventure at 08.00 on Saturday 4th June and set out for the long haul oop north.
Following the snake and some motorways with 6's in them, we headed through the lune valley gorge before stopping at Milnthorpe in that Lancashire for morning coffee. Alas too early for a licensed beverage, we nevertheless had an enjoyable break sat under a tree on the green admiring the church and the sunshine, which was ominously predicted to shrink away before we got to Carlisle - and so it did.
As soon as we entered the lake district the lights went off and the clouds blew in, but it wasn't dull, or indeed cold as we crossed the border, just average. Our first stop proper was Moffat and the Buccluech Hotel. The GBG could perhaps have been a bit more precise in its details but essentially the hotel has a tiny bar with no real ale, but next door is what looks like a separate business, the Coachmans bar.
Here there was the inescapable Deuchars, a shame since on past visits under independent ownership the quality far outshone the pale copy that abounds today; also on the bar was Inkie Pinky from Inveralmond Brewery. This was a pale refreshing beer with a nice malt and balance of bitterness which didn't last very long, but then neither did we. What with much to cram in, and despite an interesting chat with a gent at the bar, we all too soon had to leave for pastures new.
These were Larkhall, on the outskirts of Glasgow, perhaps not as fearsomely lawless as WF made out as he insisted we packed all but our coats into the boot, but nevertheless looking like it may well have seen better times, a considerable number of years ago.
The Village Tavern is on the National Inventory of historic pub interiors (N.I) and comprises two entrances and essentially two different drinking areas either side of the bar, with bench seating along each side, and loos at the end giving the interior a pleasing 1930's design symmetry (although the layout is older ). Much of the old seating area on the left is basic which suits the functional bar fittings, with, I am told, a separate area to the right which may have been a snug or off sales jug and bottle bar. Alas there is no real ale, but we did at least get some acceptable McEwans 60/-. Its an inescapable fact that real ale is probably even less prevalent in traditional pubs on the inventory, so where possible I try and get a 60/- or a "best" to lessen the impact of how grim my drink is. Further disappointment came in the form of the pub being so packed as to make getting a photo impossible, which is a shame.
Next we headed East for the former mining village of Shotts, which was perhaps a good day to visit since the whole place was buzzing with the highland games on up the road, and many people dressed in kilts and full traditional regalia, or put another way, dressed as Americans would assume everyone did in Scotland's urban industrial heartland.
We were uncertain if our intended stop would be open at all though, with WF having got no joy with the phone number provided or from directory enquiries, but having taken a wrong turn and had a drive around Shotts fairly glum environs, we arrived at the Old Wine Store on Shottskirk Road. That said, I only knew this because I recognised it from a picture, and because WF had advised there might no longer be a sign. There is not, just a board where it will one day go, the only written identification being a blue McEwans sign with Old Wine Store in small letters along the bottom.
Now seemingly only on the regional Scottish inventory, it is still obvious what the unique feature is here - its the magnificent bar gantry housing 4 huge old spirit casks that still dispense whisky. Round the far corner of the small bar, with high ceilings and a low partitioned seating area on the right, a couple of ancient handpumps suggest a real ale may have been available once, but its keg only unfortunately. So I had a pint of the Belhaven Best and WF a rather odd choice of McEwans Tartan, a beer from my past when I had no idea what I was drinking that sends shivers down my spine, usually based on how cold its served to mask its barely detectable one dimensional flavour.
The gantry, or at least the ends of the wooden bar back, looks to have a couple of A shapes on it, I wondered if these were part of the design, i.e just shapes/patterns, or were a nod to former ownership by Alloa or Aitkens brewery. There is also a famed miniature mirror round the back left of the bar which WF reckons to have spotted, but even given the friendliness of the staff and the locals, I dind't fancy jostling at the bar for no apparent reason and staring intently at people in line with the said mirror.
We said our farewells after getting a few pics, and headed off up the road to West Calder, and the imposing visage of the Railway Hotel, also on the N.I and complete with a small tower at the left hand end as you look straight at it. Still no real ale here, so Belhaven by default and tomato juice for WF.
The interior of this grand pub was the best thus far. Being busy with regulars watching the England match on a giant screen in the right hand bar, we sat in the quieter left, having walked all the way around the island bar from the entrance and along a slatted wooden walkway at the back. This is a handy feature, not least because the bar splits at the end to allow staff into a room directly behind it, perhaps previously a traditional Scottish managers room, now likely a kitchen.
The thin single bar fitting straddles the exact middle of the island bar and features ornate woodwork, and to the right of the far end of the bar is a corridor to a second room (given that the bar does not reach the ceiling there is no partition and thus essentially only one room), which also provides access to the loos, as well as a snooker room with dark wood panelling at the end. In the left hand bar where we sat is a small window at the end of the bar structure which reminded me of one at Bennetts in Edinburgh, and some nice coloured glass windows.
The lights are in a gas lamp style which adds to the authentic feel, and there is noticable grooved dark wood at the edge of every window, making the frame look as though its as thick as the walls. A decorative old fireplace topped by a Belhaven mirror on the left wall facing the bar completes the scene, in what makes for quite a narrow room.
Our next stop was not drink related but the likely now private Niddry castle - the OS map has the words restored in brackets, which often means its privately owned. There is still a brown sign to follow near the network of local cycleways and paths in the area but we only wandered up the track for a peak, and a pic. Our next stop was more closely related to Mary Queen of Scots, as she is supposed to have stayed at Niddry, that being Linlithgow.
This magnificent town boasts a Palace, which was alas shut, at the top of a steep road above a grand fronted edifice which is probably the council house, and the Linlithgow cross. We walked up to take a look at the Palace and St Michael's church, and then walked down to the loch which we walked round part of in conveniently arrived bright sunshine, admiring the bird life and looking back to the mount with the palace and church on.
We then headed into town and into the Four Marys on High Street. This is one of two GBG listed pubs in the town and halted our real ale drought in some style, with 7 or 8 handpumps dispensing almost exclusively Scottish ales including the Belhaven 4 Marys, which I had a half of, and Houston Peters Well (untried), Williams Bros Ceilidh, and a fantastic pint of the Fyne Ales Avalanche,which had been a highlight of the recent 3 Valleys festival.
We left to watch an impressive circular parade round the square and up and down the main street, which explained the plethora of cones along every pavement, and was likely part of the Linlithgow Festival of the Marches. We then headed out of the town and made good progress over the Forth bridge to our accommodation in Clackmannan outside Alloa. We only briefly checked in before driving out to nearby Sauchie for tea at the famous Mansfield Arms brewpub.
We knew they were serving food until late and we were nearing the end of a long day travelling so just wanted to turn up. eat, and drink some decent real ale, which the Mansfield Arms is perfectly geared up to let you do. The pub, more precisely their Devon Ales brewery, is one of a handful of long established breweries that that have filled the void left by giants like Alloa Ales and Maclays in the area, and is a real ale survivor.
As the market started taking off in a big way in England there was a valiant but unsuccessful surge North of the Border. Here, Bothwell, Alice, Strathalbyn and Devanha breweries (to name but a few) opened and closed during the late seventies and early eighties, suggesting, with the exception of stalwarts like Harviestoun, that real ale and microbreweries didn't suit the Scottish market. The Mansfield Arms however has been brewing since 1993 (1992 according to their website ) and have seemingly gone from strength to strength. The brewery now produces 4 real ales and a smooth/cold version to suit the tastes of the younger regulars.
Real ale is served under air pressure from fonts but its cask conditioned so this makes only a marginal difference to the flavour - I did try them on gravity at Wakefield Beer Festival about a million years ago and recall little difference in taste. With our enormous portions of food we tried a pint ( for me ) of the Devon original at £2.10, WF having a half, a pint of the Thick Black, and a half of the Pride, which may also be called 90/-. All the ales were in good nick and were the perfect accompaniment to our food.
Luckily we had left room for a further drink sort of on our way back to the B&B. We popped in (having spent 10 minutes finding it, even for a 3rd visit ) to the unique survival that is the Railway Tavern in Kincardine. All that suggests there is a pub is a small beermat sized plate above the door stating J Dobie licensee, and a smokers wall mounted ashtray next to the blue door. Inside there is a small room on the right which is usually unused, only opened as an emergency overspill, a corridor off which leads the ladies and the gents at the end, a door on the left to the bar room, and, confusingly, another door on the left to the bar, literally. Given that ther can't be more than 30 square foot behind the bar fittings included, its merciful that this door opens out....
In the bar room is a fireplace as you enter on the pubs left wall and a couple of stools at the bar. Immediately on your left in the window, is a large table which seats 8. And that's it. You may be able to get 6 standing 2 sat at the bar and the table full but that would be absolutely rammed. This seating arrangement makes best use of the minute available space, and has led the regulars to develop an innovative purchasing arrangement. This usually involves a designated orderer being sat at the bar and taking the money from and the products to those sat at the window end of the table.
We were in early enough ( anytime before 21.30 ) to get a seat at the table, with myself occupying the seat against the window, luckily I chose an early point at which to go to the toilet. I had a pint of the Tennents Light, which just to make things clear is a dark beer, and settled down to listen in on the topics of conversation of the evening, including leeks and potato growing, highland blizzards, and catching up on the daily lives of the locals.
All night the blokes who I remembered seeing in there on my first visit were all drinking virtually the same drink - a half a beer and a whisky, sometimes with a cheeky lemonade or ginger beer added. Perhaps this cuts down on disruptive trips to the gents when the bar gets busy. Time passed very quickly even though we were there over an hour, but we had to head off all too soon to get a well earned kip after our lengthy first day.
Next - Loch Leven castle, some Dundee N.I pubs, Dunottar Castle, Stonehaven and Banchory.
Wee Beefy
Monday, 27 June 2011
Thursday, 23 June 2011
Leeds and Huddersfield pubs, Magic Rock brewery launch, Cask Vs Keg - what to be scared of.
Hello surfing slakers
I have been back from my epic journey around old Alba (ironically Scotland may even have been called Albion, a word which always conjures up an image of England ) for nearly two weeks now, but have been too overwhelmed by the prospect of writing up my travels to have managed an entry since.
However, I have returned early yesterday morning from a trip round Leeds and to a brewery launch night, and this is what I will tell you about today.
Waaaarf was off on holiday with Thangor the Motherinlaw and I was instructed, sorry asked, to accompany the Shirley Valentines to the airport to rub in the fact I was staying at home, oh, and to see them off. This co-incidentally was the same date as a brewery launch in Huddersfield and formed the basis of a plan. Having waved them into the terminal from a torrential rainstorm at LBA, we headed off along Kirkstall Road and parked behind the Cardigan Arms, an entry on the National Inventory of unspoilt pub interiors.
The idea was that Davefromtshop would arrive in Leeds by coach at midday and then get a bus up to the pub for about 12.30. We arrived a little before him, getting some good photo's of the exterior before settling down in the public bar on the left.
There is a Tetley's draught poster in the tiled entrance proclaiming its price and alluding to its availability, alas it transpires real ale is only sold later in the week, as they have a delivery on a Wednesday. Had it been on, there would have been a choice between cask Tetley's from Marston's or somewhere, and Leeds Pale from Leeds, making the poster in the lobby doubly ironic.
Wee Fatha opted for a tomato juice and I closed my eyes and tried not to think of the trespass I was committing on my body by having a Tetley smooth or other horror, being as they'd also ran out of Guinness. After Dave joined us I asked if I could take some pictures of the interior, a question which usually elicits some puzzlement, but rarely the single word "why?". Sufficient explanations provided, I got my pass and set off round the large interior snapping away.
What I didn't know was that whilst I was in the smoke room taking some shots, the landlord/licensee asked Dave and WF if they were the police. Now, I don't know what you think, but having been asked that only by drunk customers before, one wonders what reason he thought the police would have taking photo's of the pub's interior ?
This aside, the interior is worth photographing, there is a wide drinking lobby as you enter with the smoke room on the right, and the door to the public bar on the left. Further forward is a small back room labelled Oak Room, a corridor out to the street on the left and the back of the very impressive 3 sided bar with a gantry running all along the top. Immediately left of the passage running next to the stairs is another room with the door closed - I wondered if this was still in use or whether it had been reclaimed for storage. There is excellent etched glass throughout and some impressive tiling. Dave tells me that they are renowned for gigs and other events being on upstairs so hopefully the pub's future can be assured. If visiting, perhaps make it Thursday to Sunday to be sure of real ale.
Next we headed towards Kirkstall Abbey over the canal and down Pollards Lane to the Abbey Inn at Newlay, next to both the railway line and, I assumed, the Leeds Liverpool canal. This free house serves about 8 guest beers and was maintaining an excellent range. WF had a half of the Leeds Pale and from an excellent selection of breweries there was really no question that me and Dave would go for the Kirkstall Brewery Black Band Porter, a sumptuous oaty bitter black beer, which was smooth drinking at 5.5%.
The original Kirkstall brewery buildings nearby are now flats, apparently the new ventures buildings back onto the canal so its a truly local beer for the pub. The landlord of the Abbey told me that the man behind the brewery was Dave Sanders, of Eastwood and Sanders and Elland and Barge and Barrel brewery fame. This explains why such a new brewery had managed to so quickly produce an excellent beer.
We couldn't stop for long as we had to get through Leeds to Hunslet and the ornate Garden Gate Inn, also on the N.I, and almost impossible to reach by car thanks to dreary and inscrutable blobs of new housing. After driving round in circles for 10 minutes we found a road taking us behind the shopping centre and even then could only espy the pub down a footpath, so parked nearby and walked.
The Garden Gate is an incredible site. Its ornate tiled frontage makes it stand out from the modern environs, but arguably even if it were flanked by other buildings of a similar age I reckon you'd still notice it.
Inside 2 doors lead off a main entrance, one straight ahead down a lavish etched glass hallway with a lounge off first right, a small room now used as a kitchen next right, and two further comfortably appointed rooms on the right and left after the bar counter. The left hand door leads to the large bar room which is the only room to have a bar front, an impressive tiled and ceramic half moon shape with an ornate single bar back.
On the bar are 5 handpumps, all from Leeds Brewery. On our visit, their Best, Pale, Midnight Bell and Quality Pays, were all available. The latter is a cheeky and yet brilliant reference to Carlsberg's outrageous decision to close a viable brewery and wipe out an admittedly maligned but nevertheless important brewing tradition in pursuit of a quick profit, leaving Leeds brewery as the only one in the city. The pump clip shows a huntsman's hat and a monocle but no face or body, perhaps a reference to faceless Carlsberg output, but pertinently avoiding copyright infringement, with the words " Tetley's have called time in Leeds " and the phrase "Join us!" in huntsman era red writing below.
WF had some of the darker midnight Bell whilst me and Dave both tried the Leeds best, a surprisingly creamy malty beer perhaps aping the better characteristics of the widely abused Tetley bitter, and one which was actually quite a meaty pint to drink down. We finished on halves of the quality pays which is 5.2% and only £2.50 a pint. This was a heady ale, similar to the Tetley subsidiary Walkers Wild Rover special that they used to roll out now and again to give tied house punters some respite from the same limited choice.
Having received a nod for a potential pub to visit from a bloke called John, the pub I think was the Dock Green on Harehills road, we soon had to leave as they shut at 15.00 during the week. WF went back to the car to drive home, and me and Dave went to catch a bus into Leeds to get the train to Huddersfield.
Whilst trying to find out where best to alight for the station we happened upon the Adelphi, another Inventory offering, and also a good view of the doomed Tetley's site, which will no doubt become "essential" high end housing for a minority of rich city workers or a themed retail park before you know it. The Adelphi is another of the Leeds Gin Palace style pubs, with fabulous etched glass windows throughout and rooms leading off an impressive central corridor. We went to inspect the bar offerings in the public bar on the left and opted for halves of Wayfarer, which was a very bitter pale beer which simply stated "brewed oop north " and half of the Hopdaemon Incubus, which came to a rather frightening £3.15 - I don't think either beer topped 4%...
We decamped to the smoke room on the second right of the corridor to eat our similarly eclectically priced snacks before I headed off for a tour and to try and take some pictures without flash, a task made much less easy by the effects of our early 5.5% beverage and the residual effects of my birthday barbecue a few days earlier.
From here we made our way to the station and the train got us into Huddersfield for 17.00. We went straight into the Head of Steam and had halves of Ossett Mild and Great Newsome Jem Stout, which came to £2.80. The Ossett was a bit fierce for a mild, having quite a lot of bitterness from the roast malt, whereas and the Jem stout was a smooth and drinkable bitter black ale that went down a little too well, given that we were saving ourselves for the brewery launch later. Here we also bumped into Dave Williams form that Camra and everything, who pointed us in the direction of the Sportsman for our pre launch entertainment.
Heading across St Georges square we walked left under the railway bridge and the Sportsman, a 19330's art deco designed pub, was on the street corner on the left. Inside is a fabulous sweeping semi circular bar and small austere wooden drinking booths, and a striking 1930's mirror on the wall. The bar has about 10 handpumps with a good choice of local beers, including the two we tried.
The lady behind the bar explained that the Sportsman Brewing Co was their own brewery, but that it was still being built at present and they were using kit at Golcar brewery in the meantime. This sent a shiver down our spines, as both me and Dave remembered Golcar bitter as being perhaps the dullest and most wearisome beer ever tasted. I don't want to go off on a tangent here but we went to the Golcar Lilly pub a few years ago and they had their bitter and Adnams Old on. It says something about your own pub's beer that the guest ale far outshone the Golcar bitter on all fronts.
Mercifully the Sportsman chaps appear to be the ones brewing so there is no worries of a repeat of the Golcar drudgery, and me and Dave both enjoyed our halves of Pigeon Bridge Porter and Alpha Ale. The porter was uncompromising with massive roast bitter flavours and the Alpha was similarly astringent but with a lot of enjoyable floral notes to balance it out. Definiteky requiring an M in its title to denote its authority.
From here we made our way up to the Grove inn for the brewery launch night. Inside is a two roomed ale mecca with at least 14 handpumps. and an impressive range of keg fonts for continental and UK micro brewery ales. Really its too popular for its size - it could easily have a third large room and still be packed out although I realise that a brewery launch night serves as an explanation for the numbers present.
Magic Rock the Boat
The range of keg beers at the Grove inn raises a few interesting questions about real ale and Camra and the consumption of beers other than cask. It seems, based on the fact that at their launch even brand new Magic Rock brewery appeared to have provided a keg beer, that its both viable and easy to produce both keg and cask ales, and that the desire to do this amongst UK microbreweries is increasing.
In the bad old days only regional brewers tinkered with the gaseous demons, and produced usually dreadful smooth or extra cold versions of their ales to suit dyed in the wool keg only customers across their estate. From the crop of micros currently doing this, I have only tasted the Bradfield offering, and that was nothing like the dread awful fizzy crap of the past, but it was palatable, and its genre seems to divide opinion and rankle Camra.
So here's the background.
Long of tooth and perhaps narrow in outlook, some stalwart Camra members are horrified by the idea of micro brewers keg beers. This is understandable for the more vintage campaigners - Camra was set up in the 1970's to stop the decline of real ale and to try and stem an almost inescapable tide of dreadful fizzy keg rubbish which had nothing to offer the refined palate other than boredom, pneumonia and dyspepsia. I am not a Camra member myself, but I used to be involved, and recall that almost anything that interfered with the determined campaign to secure the survival of real ale was treated with contempt.
In the 90's even traditional cider was seen as an irrelevant sideline to real ale, not helped by the Addlestones fake handpump hoo ha, as a result of which successive Sheffield Beer festival cider lists became more and more tedious and reliant on dross like Saxon which is made with apple-ade or something, and any deviation into perhaps giving a shit about traditional pubs, that god forbid, might be unique time warps but not sell real ale, was also of no interest to the campaign. So unwillingness to concentrate on anything but real ale is both understandable and historically prevalent in Camra.
Against that background, what are the pros and cons of micro brewed keg beer ?
Cons :
1. Brewers may stop brewing real ale.
This seems unlikely. So far I have seen keg offerings from Thornbridge ( actually I only head about this, not saw it!), Brew Dog, Gadds, Bradfield and Magic Rock. I have also heard that Dark Star and Marble have or are to produce keg. I think 5 or 7 out of probably 800 does not represent a threat, especially when, with a question mark over Brew Dog, all these brewers produce a range of excellent real ales and some have won awards for them.
2. It diverts attention from real ale.
Does it ? Everyone knows the difference between the two, and for that reason the two styles should and do promise different things to the customer. Everyone has a favourite style or choice of dispense and everyone knows what they want and expect from a beer. So its surprising then that the idea of kegs at festivals is such a non starter. As a case in point, Camra don't want keg at a real ale festival, and that makes sense, its not real ale after all, but at the recent Grampian festival local brewer Brew Dog wanted to provide only their new keg offerings, not the cask version.
I understand why the Grampian folks turned them down, but playing devils advocate here, what have they to be scared of ? Assuming, as is the central plank of the campaign, that real ale holds its own and outshines the flavour and aroma of keg, surely a keg alternative at a festival would only serve to show drinkers that real ale is best ? Unless of course, it isn't? I know that its best, you know its best, but what if it can't stand up to a keg equivalent, in the eyes of an undecided customer ? Perhaps in that case, consumers will have a hand in steering the UK real ale market towards a more flexible mixed format business plan, with equal emphasis on keg, bottled and cask....
3.Its not real ale. I only drink real ale.
Well, this should be a forceful basic argument - there is after all no arguing with that. The thing is however, all of us, to some degree, probably drink non real ale at some point already. I've never spoken to a beer lover who doesn't have a default choice in case of a lack of real ale such as at parties, or in restaurants or when abroad. Obviously we all want real ale all the time but that's not realistic, so rather like your second third and fourth favourite football teams whose results you rely on when your team plays crap, most people really do have other options, and use them.
Take a continental beer like Franziskaner wheat. You are in a pub selling two real ales and a large number of overseas bottled and draught beers including wheat beers, alt biers, lagers and fruit beers. Its 90 degrees and the beer is warm and of unpromising choice so you opt for a cold refreshing wheat beer. And why not ? Slake your thirst with a cold one and then enjoy the flavours in the cask.
Or maybe you are in a restaurant (or come to think of it, any bar overseas) and don't want to pay out for wine or pissy cold Heineken. You find that in amongst the usual selection of Becks and Carlsberg bottles they have an Alhambra Reserve 5.9% lager, or a Peroni Gran Reserva, bursting with malt flavours and subtle bitterness. This is likely a good choice as opposed to having a soft drink, and you are drinking the best of whats available.
And how many times have we seen, amongst the range of beers in a supermarket (which undoubtedly means only one BCA if you are lucky ) a tempting and impressive Brew Dog offering ? You know it will be bursting with uncompromising flavours and deliver what it says on the label ( except Punk IPA, as previously mentioned ) so who wouldn't try that ? The answer is, we probably all would, just like in the days when real ale was scarce, and Camra members relied upon bottle conditioned Guinness Original or unfiltered Pilsner Urquell. And that's before we even start to think about bottle conditioned beers at home. Basically, we all drink real ale alternatives, and it doesn't have to ruin our taste buds, or diminish our dedication to real ale...
So now the pros.
No need for a list here, as the plus points really all mushroom from the same central idea, that is that the diversity of the changing drinks market is and has to be reflected in the brewers determination to diversify their product.
In reality, brew Dog are in some ways a cataclysm for the above. They brew fantastic bottled beers and very little, and recently no, real ale. Their reputation stretches globally and they have opened a number of keg only outlets, which of course could no doubt serve real ale if they wanted. This has been the case in many of the UK's swanky brew restaurants for years - brew 4 keg beers in continental and classic British ale styles, and have one cask for those who prefer. Beers and breweries like this demonstrate that none cask beer has plenty to offer in terms of flavour and style and crucially, availability. It works well at showing cask fearful types that beer from UK micro breweries can hold its own in terms of new and exciting flavours and isn't a flat cap mild and basic bitter only industry.
So, my advice to beer drinkers, Camra or not, is this. You don't have to buy it. If there is a selection of real ales I will always have them, as that's my favourite drink, full stop. But if I have room for one, I will compliment my choice of real ale with a Kuppers Kolsch or a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, or a bottle of Poperings Hommelbier.
Its inescapable that If micro brewers don't see a future in real ale, that's up to them. Its a crying shame, but you can't force them to produce real ale, especially if people want to buy keg. If excellent tasting keg micro brewed ale gets into places that can't sell real ale then that's a start. Not everywhere can sell real ale, and not everyone likes it, that's a fact. Look at the reach of Brew Dog based on their bottled ales - how else will they fly the flag for British beer overseas, by sending out casks round the world by air freight ? I say let a small number of keg micro brewery ales make their way into an already overloaded drinks market, let people make up their own minds, and carry on drinking the best long drink in the world, real ale.
So, back to the launch night, and the brevity of the rest of the article is reflective of the strange and over in seconds nature of the launch. At 19.00 someone blew a whistle or perhaps a horn, and announced that the beer was on sale. That was it!
Me and Dave had started with pints of Marble Summer at 4.5% which was £2.80 a pint. It was as bitter as you'd expect from Marble but not sufficiently refreshing to be a summer beer. Next, with the beers on sale from Magic Rock, and having let the scrum peter out, we both had pints of their Curious - a refreshing 3.9% session bitter with a lot of light floral flavours and plenty of bitterness.
Dave headed off soon after to get some food - I tried my best to fill up on Pipers crisps and some eclectically priced jerky, but Dave could hold on no longer and headed into town. He did miss the buffet in doing so, but it was devoured in almost no time, although I really enjoyed my beer tapas of black pudding, kabanos, and flat bread. During my solo stint I also tried halves of Oxfordshire Ales Marshmellow, which couldn't make up its mind if it was vanilla or marzipan beer and was deeply weird all round, and a very enjoyable half of the Magic Rock High wire IPA at 5.5%.
Dave soon returned, having fed himself, and had a pint of the Magic Rock Rapture, described on their website as a red hop ale, which may explain why it reminded me of a bitter a mild and Mythos red ale ! This was a very easy drinking pint and Dave had another whilst I embarked on a rather reckless pint of Brew Dog Alice Porter ( on cask and everything ) at 6.2% which was £3.30 a pint.
Plenty of familiar faces abounded at the pub, whether amassing at the bar or stood outside trying to cool off - when Dave returned from town he noted there was a wall of warm air as you entered the pub. Amongst friends we saw were John Clarke who is involved in the Heritage pubs inventory assessments, Dave Williams as per earlier, and Rich from Blue Bee who was trying and failing to do business with Dave based on his somewhat optimistic pricing policy.
As the time came near for Wee Fatha to pick us up ( he very kindly offered, and was recompensed for his efforts ) we both had a final pint of Rapture. Wee Fatha was bought a half of Curious for his efforts on arrival, before me and Dave opted for a final half of the Dark Star Original Mild Ale, at 6%. This proved an unwise decision, as it was a thick vinous concoction that I couldn't help thinking they had got wrong. The huge slab of creamy chocolate malt flavours drowned out any balancing bitterness and the whole thing was heavy chewy and incredibly filling and we really had to labour to finish it. Nothing to do with all the beer we'd had previously of course.....
Wee Fatha soon magicked us home for just past midnight I think and I set about making an odd and poorly produced concoction of foods before I went to bed for a very long time. Overall the day was a brilliant snapshot of Yorkshire heritage pubs and a great opportunity to sample some of the best real ale - and keg if you should like to - that the UK has to offer.
More soon on my epic Scotland trip, as soon as I can get my brain in gear.
Wee Beefy
I have been back from my epic journey around old Alba (ironically Scotland may even have been called Albion, a word which always conjures up an image of England ) for nearly two weeks now, but have been too overwhelmed by the prospect of writing up my travels to have managed an entry since.
However, I have returned early yesterday morning from a trip round Leeds and to a brewery launch night, and this is what I will tell you about today.
Waaaarf was off on holiday with Thangor the Motherinlaw and I was instructed, sorry asked, to accompany the Shirley Valentines to the airport to rub in the fact I was staying at home, oh, and to see them off. This co-incidentally was the same date as a brewery launch in Huddersfield and formed the basis of a plan. Having waved them into the terminal from a torrential rainstorm at LBA, we headed off along Kirkstall Road and parked behind the Cardigan Arms, an entry on the National Inventory of unspoilt pub interiors.
The idea was that Davefromtshop would arrive in Leeds by coach at midday and then get a bus up to the pub for about 12.30. We arrived a little before him, getting some good photo's of the exterior before settling down in the public bar on the left.
There is a Tetley's draught poster in the tiled entrance proclaiming its price and alluding to its availability, alas it transpires real ale is only sold later in the week, as they have a delivery on a Wednesday. Had it been on, there would have been a choice between cask Tetley's from Marston's or somewhere, and Leeds Pale from Leeds, making the poster in the lobby doubly ironic.
Wee Fatha opted for a tomato juice and I closed my eyes and tried not to think of the trespass I was committing on my body by having a Tetley smooth or other horror, being as they'd also ran out of Guinness. After Dave joined us I asked if I could take some pictures of the interior, a question which usually elicits some puzzlement, but rarely the single word "why?". Sufficient explanations provided, I got my pass and set off round the large interior snapping away.
What I didn't know was that whilst I was in the smoke room taking some shots, the landlord/licensee asked Dave and WF if they were the police. Now, I don't know what you think, but having been asked that only by drunk customers before, one wonders what reason he thought the police would have taking photo's of the pub's interior ?
This aside, the interior is worth photographing, there is a wide drinking lobby as you enter with the smoke room on the right, and the door to the public bar on the left. Further forward is a small back room labelled Oak Room, a corridor out to the street on the left and the back of the very impressive 3 sided bar with a gantry running all along the top. Immediately left of the passage running next to the stairs is another room with the door closed - I wondered if this was still in use or whether it had been reclaimed for storage. There is excellent etched glass throughout and some impressive tiling. Dave tells me that they are renowned for gigs and other events being on upstairs so hopefully the pub's future can be assured. If visiting, perhaps make it Thursday to Sunday to be sure of real ale.
Next we headed towards Kirkstall Abbey over the canal and down Pollards Lane to the Abbey Inn at Newlay, next to both the railway line and, I assumed, the Leeds Liverpool canal. This free house serves about 8 guest beers and was maintaining an excellent range. WF had a half of the Leeds Pale and from an excellent selection of breweries there was really no question that me and Dave would go for the Kirkstall Brewery Black Band Porter, a sumptuous oaty bitter black beer, which was smooth drinking at 5.5%.
The original Kirkstall brewery buildings nearby are now flats, apparently the new ventures buildings back onto the canal so its a truly local beer for the pub. The landlord of the Abbey told me that the man behind the brewery was Dave Sanders, of Eastwood and Sanders and Elland and Barge and Barrel brewery fame. This explains why such a new brewery had managed to so quickly produce an excellent beer.
We couldn't stop for long as we had to get through Leeds to Hunslet and the ornate Garden Gate Inn, also on the N.I, and almost impossible to reach by car thanks to dreary and inscrutable blobs of new housing. After driving round in circles for 10 minutes we found a road taking us behind the shopping centre and even then could only espy the pub down a footpath, so parked nearby and walked.
The Garden Gate is an incredible site. Its ornate tiled frontage makes it stand out from the modern environs, but arguably even if it were flanked by other buildings of a similar age I reckon you'd still notice it.
Inside 2 doors lead off a main entrance, one straight ahead down a lavish etched glass hallway with a lounge off first right, a small room now used as a kitchen next right, and two further comfortably appointed rooms on the right and left after the bar counter. The left hand door leads to the large bar room which is the only room to have a bar front, an impressive tiled and ceramic half moon shape with an ornate single bar back.
On the bar are 5 handpumps, all from Leeds Brewery. On our visit, their Best, Pale, Midnight Bell and Quality Pays, were all available. The latter is a cheeky and yet brilliant reference to Carlsberg's outrageous decision to close a viable brewery and wipe out an admittedly maligned but nevertheless important brewing tradition in pursuit of a quick profit, leaving Leeds brewery as the only one in the city. The pump clip shows a huntsman's hat and a monocle but no face or body, perhaps a reference to faceless Carlsberg output, but pertinently avoiding copyright infringement, with the words " Tetley's have called time in Leeds " and the phrase "Join us!" in huntsman era red writing below.
WF had some of the darker midnight Bell whilst me and Dave both tried the Leeds best, a surprisingly creamy malty beer perhaps aping the better characteristics of the widely abused Tetley bitter, and one which was actually quite a meaty pint to drink down. We finished on halves of the quality pays which is 5.2% and only £2.50 a pint. This was a heady ale, similar to the Tetley subsidiary Walkers Wild Rover special that they used to roll out now and again to give tied house punters some respite from the same limited choice.
Having received a nod for a potential pub to visit from a bloke called John, the pub I think was the Dock Green on Harehills road, we soon had to leave as they shut at 15.00 during the week. WF went back to the car to drive home, and me and Dave went to catch a bus into Leeds to get the train to Huddersfield.
Whilst trying to find out where best to alight for the station we happened upon the Adelphi, another Inventory offering, and also a good view of the doomed Tetley's site, which will no doubt become "essential" high end housing for a minority of rich city workers or a themed retail park before you know it. The Adelphi is another of the Leeds Gin Palace style pubs, with fabulous etched glass windows throughout and rooms leading off an impressive central corridor. We went to inspect the bar offerings in the public bar on the left and opted for halves of Wayfarer, which was a very bitter pale beer which simply stated "brewed oop north " and half of the Hopdaemon Incubus, which came to a rather frightening £3.15 - I don't think either beer topped 4%...
We decamped to the smoke room on the second right of the corridor to eat our similarly eclectically priced snacks before I headed off for a tour and to try and take some pictures without flash, a task made much less easy by the effects of our early 5.5% beverage and the residual effects of my birthday barbecue a few days earlier.
From here we made our way to the station and the train got us into Huddersfield for 17.00. We went straight into the Head of Steam and had halves of Ossett Mild and Great Newsome Jem Stout, which came to £2.80. The Ossett was a bit fierce for a mild, having quite a lot of bitterness from the roast malt, whereas and the Jem stout was a smooth and drinkable bitter black ale that went down a little too well, given that we were saving ourselves for the brewery launch later. Here we also bumped into Dave Williams form that Camra and everything, who pointed us in the direction of the Sportsman for our pre launch entertainment.
Heading across St Georges square we walked left under the railway bridge and the Sportsman, a 19330's art deco designed pub, was on the street corner on the left. Inside is a fabulous sweeping semi circular bar and small austere wooden drinking booths, and a striking 1930's mirror on the wall. The bar has about 10 handpumps with a good choice of local beers, including the two we tried.
The lady behind the bar explained that the Sportsman Brewing Co was their own brewery, but that it was still being built at present and they were using kit at Golcar brewery in the meantime. This sent a shiver down our spines, as both me and Dave remembered Golcar bitter as being perhaps the dullest and most wearisome beer ever tasted. I don't want to go off on a tangent here but we went to the Golcar Lilly pub a few years ago and they had their bitter and Adnams Old on. It says something about your own pub's beer that the guest ale far outshone the Golcar bitter on all fronts.
Mercifully the Sportsman chaps appear to be the ones brewing so there is no worries of a repeat of the Golcar drudgery, and me and Dave both enjoyed our halves of Pigeon Bridge Porter and Alpha Ale. The porter was uncompromising with massive roast bitter flavours and the Alpha was similarly astringent but with a lot of enjoyable floral notes to balance it out. Definiteky requiring an M in its title to denote its authority.
From here we made our way up to the Grove inn for the brewery launch night. Inside is a two roomed ale mecca with at least 14 handpumps. and an impressive range of keg fonts for continental and UK micro brewery ales. Really its too popular for its size - it could easily have a third large room and still be packed out although I realise that a brewery launch night serves as an explanation for the numbers present.
Magic Rock the Boat
The range of keg beers at the Grove inn raises a few interesting questions about real ale and Camra and the consumption of beers other than cask. It seems, based on the fact that at their launch even brand new Magic Rock brewery appeared to have provided a keg beer, that its both viable and easy to produce both keg and cask ales, and that the desire to do this amongst UK microbreweries is increasing.
In the bad old days only regional brewers tinkered with the gaseous demons, and produced usually dreadful smooth or extra cold versions of their ales to suit dyed in the wool keg only customers across their estate. From the crop of micros currently doing this, I have only tasted the Bradfield offering, and that was nothing like the dread awful fizzy crap of the past, but it was palatable, and its genre seems to divide opinion and rankle Camra.
So here's the background.
Long of tooth and perhaps narrow in outlook, some stalwart Camra members are horrified by the idea of micro brewers keg beers. This is understandable for the more vintage campaigners - Camra was set up in the 1970's to stop the decline of real ale and to try and stem an almost inescapable tide of dreadful fizzy keg rubbish which had nothing to offer the refined palate other than boredom, pneumonia and dyspepsia. I am not a Camra member myself, but I used to be involved, and recall that almost anything that interfered with the determined campaign to secure the survival of real ale was treated with contempt.
In the 90's even traditional cider was seen as an irrelevant sideline to real ale, not helped by the Addlestones fake handpump hoo ha, as a result of which successive Sheffield Beer festival cider lists became more and more tedious and reliant on dross like Saxon which is made with apple-ade or something, and any deviation into perhaps giving a shit about traditional pubs, that god forbid, might be unique time warps but not sell real ale, was also of no interest to the campaign. So unwillingness to concentrate on anything but real ale is both understandable and historically prevalent in Camra.
Against that background, what are the pros and cons of micro brewed keg beer ?
Cons :
1. Brewers may stop brewing real ale.
This seems unlikely. So far I have seen keg offerings from Thornbridge ( actually I only head about this, not saw it!), Brew Dog, Gadds, Bradfield and Magic Rock. I have also heard that Dark Star and Marble have or are to produce keg. I think 5 or 7 out of probably 800 does not represent a threat, especially when, with a question mark over Brew Dog, all these brewers produce a range of excellent real ales and some have won awards for them.
2. It diverts attention from real ale.
Does it ? Everyone knows the difference between the two, and for that reason the two styles should and do promise different things to the customer. Everyone has a favourite style or choice of dispense and everyone knows what they want and expect from a beer. So its surprising then that the idea of kegs at festivals is such a non starter. As a case in point, Camra don't want keg at a real ale festival, and that makes sense, its not real ale after all, but at the recent Grampian festival local brewer Brew Dog wanted to provide only their new keg offerings, not the cask version.
I understand why the Grampian folks turned them down, but playing devils advocate here, what have they to be scared of ? Assuming, as is the central plank of the campaign, that real ale holds its own and outshines the flavour and aroma of keg, surely a keg alternative at a festival would only serve to show drinkers that real ale is best ? Unless of course, it isn't? I know that its best, you know its best, but what if it can't stand up to a keg equivalent, in the eyes of an undecided customer ? Perhaps in that case, consumers will have a hand in steering the UK real ale market towards a more flexible mixed format business plan, with equal emphasis on keg, bottled and cask....
3.Its not real ale. I only drink real ale.
Well, this should be a forceful basic argument - there is after all no arguing with that. The thing is however, all of us, to some degree, probably drink non real ale at some point already. I've never spoken to a beer lover who doesn't have a default choice in case of a lack of real ale such as at parties, or in restaurants or when abroad. Obviously we all want real ale all the time but that's not realistic, so rather like your second third and fourth favourite football teams whose results you rely on when your team plays crap, most people really do have other options, and use them.
Take a continental beer like Franziskaner wheat. You are in a pub selling two real ales and a large number of overseas bottled and draught beers including wheat beers, alt biers, lagers and fruit beers. Its 90 degrees and the beer is warm and of unpromising choice so you opt for a cold refreshing wheat beer. And why not ? Slake your thirst with a cold one and then enjoy the flavours in the cask.
Or maybe you are in a restaurant (or come to think of it, any bar overseas) and don't want to pay out for wine or pissy cold Heineken. You find that in amongst the usual selection of Becks and Carlsberg bottles they have an Alhambra Reserve 5.9% lager, or a Peroni Gran Reserva, bursting with malt flavours and subtle bitterness. This is likely a good choice as opposed to having a soft drink, and you are drinking the best of whats available.
And how many times have we seen, amongst the range of beers in a supermarket (which undoubtedly means only one BCA if you are lucky ) a tempting and impressive Brew Dog offering ? You know it will be bursting with uncompromising flavours and deliver what it says on the label ( except Punk IPA, as previously mentioned ) so who wouldn't try that ? The answer is, we probably all would, just like in the days when real ale was scarce, and Camra members relied upon bottle conditioned Guinness Original or unfiltered Pilsner Urquell. And that's before we even start to think about bottle conditioned beers at home. Basically, we all drink real ale alternatives, and it doesn't have to ruin our taste buds, or diminish our dedication to real ale...
So now the pros.
No need for a list here, as the plus points really all mushroom from the same central idea, that is that the diversity of the changing drinks market is and has to be reflected in the brewers determination to diversify their product.
In reality, brew Dog are in some ways a cataclysm for the above. They brew fantastic bottled beers and very little, and recently no, real ale. Their reputation stretches globally and they have opened a number of keg only outlets, which of course could no doubt serve real ale if they wanted. This has been the case in many of the UK's swanky brew restaurants for years - brew 4 keg beers in continental and classic British ale styles, and have one cask for those who prefer. Beers and breweries like this demonstrate that none cask beer has plenty to offer in terms of flavour and style and crucially, availability. It works well at showing cask fearful types that beer from UK micro breweries can hold its own in terms of new and exciting flavours and isn't a flat cap mild and basic bitter only industry.
So, my advice to beer drinkers, Camra or not, is this. You don't have to buy it. If there is a selection of real ales I will always have them, as that's my favourite drink, full stop. But if I have room for one, I will compliment my choice of real ale with a Kuppers Kolsch or a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, or a bottle of Poperings Hommelbier.
Its inescapable that If micro brewers don't see a future in real ale, that's up to them. Its a crying shame, but you can't force them to produce real ale, especially if people want to buy keg. If excellent tasting keg micro brewed ale gets into places that can't sell real ale then that's a start. Not everywhere can sell real ale, and not everyone likes it, that's a fact. Look at the reach of Brew Dog based on their bottled ales - how else will they fly the flag for British beer overseas, by sending out casks round the world by air freight ? I say let a small number of keg micro brewery ales make their way into an already overloaded drinks market, let people make up their own minds, and carry on drinking the best long drink in the world, real ale.
So, back to the launch night, and the brevity of the rest of the article is reflective of the strange and over in seconds nature of the launch. At 19.00 someone blew a whistle or perhaps a horn, and announced that the beer was on sale. That was it!
Me and Dave had started with pints of Marble Summer at 4.5% which was £2.80 a pint. It was as bitter as you'd expect from Marble but not sufficiently refreshing to be a summer beer. Next, with the beers on sale from Magic Rock, and having let the scrum peter out, we both had pints of their Curious - a refreshing 3.9% session bitter with a lot of light floral flavours and plenty of bitterness.
Dave headed off soon after to get some food - I tried my best to fill up on Pipers crisps and some eclectically priced jerky, but Dave could hold on no longer and headed into town. He did miss the buffet in doing so, but it was devoured in almost no time, although I really enjoyed my beer tapas of black pudding, kabanos, and flat bread. During my solo stint I also tried halves of Oxfordshire Ales Marshmellow, which couldn't make up its mind if it was vanilla or marzipan beer and was deeply weird all round, and a very enjoyable half of the Magic Rock High wire IPA at 5.5%.
Dave soon returned, having fed himself, and had a pint of the Magic Rock Rapture, described on their website as a red hop ale, which may explain why it reminded me of a bitter a mild and Mythos red ale ! This was a very easy drinking pint and Dave had another whilst I embarked on a rather reckless pint of Brew Dog Alice Porter ( on cask and everything ) at 6.2% which was £3.30 a pint.
Plenty of familiar faces abounded at the pub, whether amassing at the bar or stood outside trying to cool off - when Dave returned from town he noted there was a wall of warm air as you entered the pub. Amongst friends we saw were John Clarke who is involved in the Heritage pubs inventory assessments, Dave Williams as per earlier, and Rich from Blue Bee who was trying and failing to do business with Dave based on his somewhat optimistic pricing policy.
As the time came near for Wee Fatha to pick us up ( he very kindly offered, and was recompensed for his efforts ) we both had a final pint of Rapture. Wee Fatha was bought a half of Curious for his efforts on arrival, before me and Dave opted for a final half of the Dark Star Original Mild Ale, at 6%. This proved an unwise decision, as it was a thick vinous concoction that I couldn't help thinking they had got wrong. The huge slab of creamy chocolate malt flavours drowned out any balancing bitterness and the whole thing was heavy chewy and incredibly filling and we really had to labour to finish it. Nothing to do with all the beer we'd had previously of course.....
Wee Fatha soon magicked us home for just past midnight I think and I set about making an odd and poorly produced concoction of foods before I went to bed for a very long time. Overall the day was a brilliant snapshot of Yorkshire heritage pubs and a great opportunity to sample some of the best real ale - and keg if you should like to - that the UK has to offer.
More soon on my epic Scotland trip, as soon as I can get my brain in gear.
Wee Beefy
Tuesday, 31 May 2011
3 Valleys Festival, Bar 360 West One, Green Room, Trippets, Cliff Inn Crich
Now then,
an unexpected fortuitous decision by Nationwide to take my insurance payment after the bank holiday rather than a day early, meant that what looked like being the most depressing bank holiday weekend for years started, continued and ended on a high note. A wretched innings at the crease of my employer's ironed underpants, or my job as its more catchily known, prompted me to lust for a refreshing and hopefully relaxing pint in that Sheffield straight after work.
I stayed as long as my brain could manage and walked past the Shakespeare on Shalesmoor, to see how work was coming along. To my untrained builders eye I have to say it looks as dire and untouched as always, although perhaps the fact that days after buying the pub some nobheads broke in and stole all the pipework means that the owner wants it to look like nothing new is happening inside.
I walked up Brook Hill from here and past the church near Jessops before heading down to Harrisons 1854. Inside, more changes were afoot, the cider was back in its box, apparently, despite the boxes ability to keep the juice fresh, the slow turnover and long pipes meant before you could enjoy a pint 3 or 4 had to be discarded, so the pump dispense was abandoned.
The beer range was Moonshine and Deception as usual, fair enough there isn't enough demand for a third at present, and most importantly, the comfy seating has appeared downstairs, likely but hopefully not what attracted a gaggle of youths. Although it was quiet around 19.00 onwards, there was also another member of staff in anticipation of it livening up later.
I still had chance for a chat with sommelier turned Mrs mop Dave who had committed the lamentable crime of picking up a fixture from under the bar, and realising that it needed cleaning. We realised that the 3 Valleys festival was on the next day, and, having secured some funds, hatched a somewhat cock-eyed plan to meet at 12.00 in Dronfield the next day.
Arrangements in place I headed off on a mission - to find an unusual American bottled beer in one of the West One bar/restaurants. The above was all the instruction I had, and I noted there were a few to go at; I knew Vodka Revulsion (do you see what I've done there? I have changed the name, and everything....) wouldn't entertain such a concept, and something unmemorable next to Antibos looked a bit too food orientated. Las Iguanas I knew was hardly a good bar for a quiet drink but admirably, on my last visit they sold a very quaffable dark Brazilian beer.
So I headed for Bar 23, where the music sounded a bit more, erm, well alternative than the noises from other venues. There was some nice seating and some interesting places to hide, and the barman was incredibly helpful, alas though he could not confirm that they sold any but the most widely available American beers, and recommended the Bowery.
Blurred Moon
En route I popped in - once I had found an entrance to, Bar 360. Its Round. Do you see what they did there ? An opportunity missed I say, since it could so easily have incorporated 360 entrances, with only one operational. Like the Sheaf Island for example. Anyhoo, once inside I started my unusual American beer shtick and straight away was shown a bottle I did not recognise, and purchased it.
Blue Moon wheat beer is from the Blue Moon Wheat Beer co, and according to the blurb is a kooky but marketable (is this a claim or information? ) orange flavoured wheat beer. Not noted on the label was that it was a little cold and extremely fizzy, but still managed to be very nice indeed, accompanied by an eclectic musical selection.
The info on the back makes much of its wholesome beginnings - I can't recall which high fibre nutritional slice of the States it came from, I am, rather like Doris Stokes "getting" Colorado, but it makes much of how it is just a few friends getting together to make beer that is an unusual twist on classic beer styles for their own enjoyment, with a trifling and little explored monetary dimension that they seem to forget.
I moved my attention to a rather muddy playing of Firestarter by the prodigy next whilst getting my head round, almost literally, the interior. It is indeed a large round building with toilets emanating in the right hand side of the straight feature which is the bar (they are curved inside ), a long table, possibly some pushed together, on the right part of the circle as you enter, and some comfy settees which are a good vantage point for watching people parading around West One - not literally.
Thing is, this smooth city centre concept bar was detracting me from my ultimate goal to sit down somewhere comfy and quiet for a pint so I opted to sup up and head off, but not before reading the finer points of the bottle label. To my surprise, not only did these friends appear to have moved production to Canada, but also the sole distributor was Molson Coors, who also seemed to be the sole owners. I thought Molson were a giant Canadian conglomerate now swallowed up by the unseemly behemoth that is now Molson Coors and thus even more enormous and power crazed. So how rare is this beer, and how long will it remain so ?
No answer was to be had, but I suspect this is another cherry picking by the interplanetary big 3 brewers ( OK, I know they don't brew on other planets yet, but rest assured anyone who did would be swiftly made an offer they couldn't refuse by caring Big Daddy bear Inbev, or Coors or SABMiller).
So, on next to look at the Bowery, a literal description since despite its favourable music choice and long list of bottled classics, I was tired and waining and wanting a comfy sit down, so I did not linger. I was heading for Henry's but passing the Green Room, an enigma of real ale uncertainty for some time now, although I knew I would get no where to quietly sit, I decided to pop in anyway.
A landlord pump clip was turned round and the other bare, possibly the same sight that had greeted me on my last umpteen visits, but I was past caring by now. Still, I meekly enquired if real ale was or would be available, and then came an epiphany for me, when a man with a thin face, a niggly voice and what I recall, likely wrongly, as a pork pie hat, told me that they didn't sell it anymore. So, finally they come clean - all we have to do now is wait for the next change in management or a rethink, and I will be finally tempted to go in.
So, off for my final destination, I dithered over a trip to the Wick At Both Ends, but worried that I may not have a good beer choice, and Henrys seemed too far, so I headed for Trippets, which was very busy with punters and a "disc Jockey" playing "records" as I believe the young folk are calling them.
The lighting was a bit naff but sort of amusingly so, the main area was packed so I was sat at the back of the place watching the Long Play record spinner bang out some choonz, or something in English, whilst enjoying a nice pint of Thornbridge Alchemy, once again. All in all a satisfying night fact finding, of not a very relaxing nature, and a good precursor to a Saturday out in the countryside.
Droning on about the Valleys.
So, the cock eyed plan aforementioned was that I would get a lift off Wee Fatha, from Handsworth to the Coach and Horses, for which I would tender a pint, and meet Dave Barraharri as he shall now be known, at the pub for a few halves before he left for work.
In reality, Wee Ftaha was in the grip of financial anxiety and so virtually metered me all the way to the pub, although he did lend me a tenner to negate my planned trip to the cashpoint. Alas, this would have filled in time, since having got there at 11.30 and assuming the staff milling around and doors being open and lights on meant they were trading, was told that i could not buy a beer for another half an hour. They offered me the chance to sit outside reading the beer list and deciding what to buy, but this felt like invited torture so I walked out to try and find a lovely path to yomp along for 30 minutes.
The Drone Valley no doubt has some lovely bits to it, but I get the feeling you kind of need to know where they are. Fortuitously, after only 5 or 6 minutes walking, I did find a path, but its only signed in one direction, so I spent most of my time circling the edge of the field seeking a stile to get out over. Once found, I clambered this broken edifice to follow a real path to another stile/path conundrum, following a sign into a field the only visible way out of which was blocked, and then out onto the Dronfield Rotary walk. This was ominously taking me away from the pub and my starting point, so I hurried back to find Barrharri outside the pub already ensconced with a half.
Dave had White Swan or similar from Thornbridge dispensed from the bar inside, and I quickly fetched a half of the Arran Red Squirrel. I have never had this before on draught, and it was a pleasing malty ale which lacked a little in body, and seemed to lack condition. Next Dave got a half of the Dark Star Festival, which he transferred from his wobbly plastic cup into his cherished half pint glass, and I went for a pint of the Buxton Dark Dales, which was as chewy and uncompromising as their Axe Edge, the difference being this was a Dark IPA.
The smell of the barbecue was making me hungry, but luckily for me The Coach and Horses had imposed dietary restrictions on me by asking £5.00 for a burger. On my limited budget, no amount of beer hunger was going to tempt me to part with that kind of cash, and I did ask how the burgers were going, hoping the kind lady behind the bar would detect and appreciate my subtle irony. She did neither.
Still, I stayed on for a couple more, Dave had another beer, and I a pint from the inside of a Derby Brewery beer with a rabbit on - confirmation to follow ! This was a flat lifeless ale that looked like it had been sat in a jug for two hours and tasted nothing like a hoppy Derby offering, with an odd dry malt and no discernable predominant flavour, a bit like one of those unfathomable Millis beers that they brew in Kent - the irony of a hopless Kentish Ale, stop it Millis, it hurts....
Luckily I pretended the beer was refreshing, bearing in mind that at first and somehow at the end it tasted OK if uninspiring, before using my real glass to get the best pint of the day, a fantastic 568ml of Fyne Ales Avalanche, which quickly rid me of the odd taste of the last pint whilst I waited for the bus. My stop ended about 13.50 as the coach arrived so I ran off to catch that to the Miners Arms in Dronfield.
his is possibly my first visit to the pub, and despite the inconvenience of arriving just as they stopped serving food, I was able to choose a tasty half from the range of Rev James, Black Sheep Bitter, Kelham Island Easy Rider and Hook Norton bitter which I had a very nice half of. I didn't try any of the other beers due to time, but the bitter was in great nick and the other festival goers all seemed to be enjoying that and the Rev James.
The Millthorpe Conundrum
Out next onto Festival bus route 3 to go onto what I assume is valley number 2, that being the end of the Lineker Valley, and up to the Barlow Brewery. On the timetable it clearly marks the Royal Oak at Millthorpe on this route, but the driver barely paused at the bottom of Millthorpe Lane. Some passengers commented and it turned out that persons not from the area, and so not able to notice we were passing the pub, had fancied a visit, but there was a goodly wait until the next bus.
I noted from the 3 Valleys website that there was no mention of the Royal Oak, but there was a (then) pictureless reference to the Devonshire Arms - no idea which one it was, the only one I could think of was the one at Middle Handley, making it the opposite side of the Drone Valley heading for Unstone and Chesterfield, and not served by any buses, I now know its on all 3 routes and the 30 - could it be the one at Dore ? And does that make the furthest Valley Abbeydale? I concede I am not hot on valley knowledge, and I never thought to ask when I was out, and I now think there's a Devonshire in Barlow, so who knows....
So why the omission ? I noted that some of the pubs at the end of Holmesfield weren't involved this year, but that seemed inevitable for the Horns with its beer calamity last year, but surprising for the likes of the Angel, which offers real ale anyway as far as I know ( The George and Dragon was again offering Peak Ales, so perhaps they always sell them ? ). The Royal Oak was not featured last year, but no bus went nearer to it than Holmesfield, but this year was surely a golden opportunity ?
Well, for whatever reason, they didn't seem to be involved, and when I got there by car en route from the brewery to the Rutland courtesy of Dave later on (thanks mate, a very kind offer ), it was resolutely shut. Now i realise it may not usually open all day Saturday, but why not make an exception today, even if not involved ?
It seems incongrous for a pub saved by the locals after a possibly 15 year fight by the owners to close it down, that the pub should be so reticent to invite trade. I mentioned the puzzle to Wee Keefy yesterday, he has visited a few times with me, and he noted that there was a no bikers sign outside. Obviously, the pub is thriving sufficiently well to be choosy, and to risk alienating a chunk of passing trade, but this does not seem sensible or plausible. So where is the Royal Oak going one wonders ?
Anyway, gripe over, the Barlow brewery were participating by opening their tiny bar ( and it is literally just that, with seating in marquees and a food van outside ), and providing some decent bluesy entertainment from a singer called Whiskey Bob Shaker, who played two Tom Waits songs to open (albeit likely covered by Waits himself ), which immediately prompted me to not go for the bus but to stay and cadge a lift instead.
Beers wise I had half of the Barlow Dark and half of their impressive imperial stout. I secured a chair and sat in fleeting windy sunshine soaking up the music and sipping both beers, with the imperial stout being surprisingly drinkable. All too soon however I had to leave and Dave Barraharri picked me up outside and whisked me off via my getting him lost using my "knowledge " (and taking him to the closed Royal Oak as previously noted) en route to the Rutland.
Here there was the full compliment of Black Sheep beers, as advertised, along with Castle rock Pale. I nursed a half of this sat in a corner between the bar and a magnificent shiny copper flumed fireplace, watching people queue thirstily at the bar. I only stayed for a half here because really I needed to eat by now, and it appeared that the imperial stout may have been a bit too refreshing.
So, I staggered up the winding lane to Northen Common, and went in a new pub for me, the Hearty Oak (pub and kitchen), formerly more sensibly named the Hearts of Oak I think. Outside was a barbecue, inside was rammed with drinkers and diners and on the bar were a couple of Raw and a couple of Abbeydale beers. I tried pints of both the Raw Centennial and dark Peak, the latter probably the better since the first was a bit tired, and gorged on a cheeseburger and then a sausage butty, both with an extra piece thrown in as it was burnt - note, I did get a say in this, one of the staff members even brought me the extra sausage in in case I anted to cram it in my bun, which is both what I did, and not a euphemism.
After this a mild discombobulation befell me and having missed the bus to just about anywhere soon, I walked round to the Miners to catch one back to the Brewery, with a group of festival-goers including someone called Spencer, a friendly bloke who seemed interested in real ale and probably had a web identity of spencerocks or similar. Either way I feel sure he would have left with this blog address in his possession.....
Whilst here I had the Barlow Festival IPA and Calendar Ale, which I supped under cover whilst chatting with my new afable cohort and the inimitable JB, whom I spotted sitting nearby. As was only fitting in his presence, the subject of the next bus out came up and true to form he had all the information I needed. Soon I had said my goodbyes and was off to the Hearty Oak, only to swap buses, and then down to the Castle Inn off Twentywell Lane.
Many people had crowded onto the bus to get here this time and inside it was rammed. It was busy anyway with food trade and in the room to the right people were amassing for the Champions League Final. On the bar were Bradfield Blonde, a Blue Bee beer which I only noticed later, and two Oakwell ales, which I had a half of each, their Oakwell bitter and the senior. Both were refreshing if a little innocuous compared with some of the earlier ales tried but they were well kept.
From here I walked down the main road to Abbeydale Road and thankfully flagged down a bus into town and was home quicker than I expected, in time to watch the end of the match and to make some tasty food.
The festival was another enjoyable day out, the travelling time ensuring that you probably end up drinking less then you'd expect if you are out for say 8 hours, and also of course the bus is essential in helping you to get to the pubs which this year, perhaps more than before, are spread over a larger area. The only regret is that I had not started at the other end and took in the George in Holmsfield and the Cross Scythes at Totley, or maybe even the mysterious Devonshire Arms. Perhaps next year.
Crich on a chuffin bike.
So, with bank Holiday washed out, it was inevitable that my desire to get some exercise would wind up getting me soaked, and Monday was the chosen day of punishment for a Lea, Crich and Derwent Valley yomp. Alas, its getting late so am going to have to reign in the details, but suffice to say route wise we walked from lea to Lea Bridge near Smedleys Mill, up over the hill through woods to the Cromford Canal then along to Crich Carr and up an extremely long and steep hill to near the Tramway Museum, and into the Cliff Inn, before following the road, Leashaw, back to the car.
(no bikes were actually usedi n this slog)
The Cliff Inn used to be Hardy Hanson's pub, likely doing a roaring trade in food, possible a long ago regular in the guide along with the tramway, and now somewhat reinvented as a traditional pub selling real ales and some home cooked food. They don't appear to have a website but an enthusiastic review at Peakdistrictonline.co.uk/peak-district-pubs which for some reason I can't copy over (possibly an HTML anomaly) which gives a fairly ingratiatory splash on the merits of the pub.
One of its central themes is the fact that the pub serves locally brewed real ales, with much reference here and in the GBG of beers brewed within a 15 mile radius of the pub. It may not specify that all the ales fall into this category, and indeed on this visit two dont - (perhaps Black Sheep and Landlord are regulars?) but the two guests were, and this is a development to be encouraged.
Wee Keefy had a half of the Brampton Golden Bud - which at £1.50 is a bit steep for a half at 3.8; and I a pint of the Thornbridge Kipling, which is bear 6% and had a £3.30 price tag to match, although thats not dissimilar to Sheffield these days. Prices aside its great to see a pub signing up to the idea of getting beer from as near as possible instead of shipping it in via sometimes 3 different distribution plants and wholesalers. Given the overkill caused by so many places selling the same beers in the area (with noticable exceptions, the Thorn Tree Matlock, Royal Oak and Hope and Anchor Wirksworth, and Bear Inn Alderwasley excepted ) its nice to see a good range of beers reflecting the diversity of Derbyshire brewing.
If this plan could be rolled out nationwide, this could form the central tenet of a practical plan to secure the future of many threatened pubs around he UK, based on them selling as much local products as possible and thereby repaying the local community for their custom with tacit support for small local businesses. Selling local ale on its own wont halt the hostelries decline but it might make pubs more enticing to visit and more active in the wider local economy.
More news soon, likely on my return from Scotland next week.
Wee Beefy
an unexpected fortuitous decision by Nationwide to take my insurance payment after the bank holiday rather than a day early, meant that what looked like being the most depressing bank holiday weekend for years started, continued and ended on a high note. A wretched innings at the crease of my employer's ironed underpants, or my job as its more catchily known, prompted me to lust for a refreshing and hopefully relaxing pint in that Sheffield straight after work.
I stayed as long as my brain could manage and walked past the Shakespeare on Shalesmoor, to see how work was coming along. To my untrained builders eye I have to say it looks as dire and untouched as always, although perhaps the fact that days after buying the pub some nobheads broke in and stole all the pipework means that the owner wants it to look like nothing new is happening inside.
I walked up Brook Hill from here and past the church near Jessops before heading down to Harrisons 1854. Inside, more changes were afoot, the cider was back in its box, apparently, despite the boxes ability to keep the juice fresh, the slow turnover and long pipes meant before you could enjoy a pint 3 or 4 had to be discarded, so the pump dispense was abandoned.
The beer range was Moonshine and Deception as usual, fair enough there isn't enough demand for a third at present, and most importantly, the comfy seating has appeared downstairs, likely but hopefully not what attracted a gaggle of youths. Although it was quiet around 19.00 onwards, there was also another member of staff in anticipation of it livening up later.
I still had chance for a chat with sommelier turned Mrs mop Dave who had committed the lamentable crime of picking up a fixture from under the bar, and realising that it needed cleaning. We realised that the 3 Valleys festival was on the next day, and, having secured some funds, hatched a somewhat cock-eyed plan to meet at 12.00 in Dronfield the next day.
Arrangements in place I headed off on a mission - to find an unusual American bottled beer in one of the West One bar/restaurants. The above was all the instruction I had, and I noted there were a few to go at; I knew Vodka Revulsion (do you see what I've done there? I have changed the name, and everything....) wouldn't entertain such a concept, and something unmemorable next to Antibos looked a bit too food orientated. Las Iguanas I knew was hardly a good bar for a quiet drink but admirably, on my last visit they sold a very quaffable dark Brazilian beer.
So I headed for Bar 23, where the music sounded a bit more, erm, well alternative than the noises from other venues. There was some nice seating and some interesting places to hide, and the barman was incredibly helpful, alas though he could not confirm that they sold any but the most widely available American beers, and recommended the Bowery.
Blurred Moon
En route I popped in - once I had found an entrance to, Bar 360. Its Round. Do you see what they did there ? An opportunity missed I say, since it could so easily have incorporated 360 entrances, with only one operational. Like the Sheaf Island for example. Anyhoo, once inside I started my unusual American beer shtick and straight away was shown a bottle I did not recognise, and purchased it.
Blue Moon wheat beer is from the Blue Moon Wheat Beer co, and according to the blurb is a kooky but marketable (is this a claim or information? ) orange flavoured wheat beer. Not noted on the label was that it was a little cold and extremely fizzy, but still managed to be very nice indeed, accompanied by an eclectic musical selection.
The info on the back makes much of its wholesome beginnings - I can't recall which high fibre nutritional slice of the States it came from, I am, rather like Doris Stokes "getting" Colorado, but it makes much of how it is just a few friends getting together to make beer that is an unusual twist on classic beer styles for their own enjoyment, with a trifling and little explored monetary dimension that they seem to forget.
I moved my attention to a rather muddy playing of Firestarter by the prodigy next whilst getting my head round, almost literally, the interior. It is indeed a large round building with toilets emanating in the right hand side of the straight feature which is the bar (they are curved inside ), a long table, possibly some pushed together, on the right part of the circle as you enter, and some comfy settees which are a good vantage point for watching people parading around West One - not literally.
Thing is, this smooth city centre concept bar was detracting me from my ultimate goal to sit down somewhere comfy and quiet for a pint so I opted to sup up and head off, but not before reading the finer points of the bottle label. To my surprise, not only did these friends appear to have moved production to Canada, but also the sole distributor was Molson Coors, who also seemed to be the sole owners. I thought Molson were a giant Canadian conglomerate now swallowed up by the unseemly behemoth that is now Molson Coors and thus even more enormous and power crazed. So how rare is this beer, and how long will it remain so ?
No answer was to be had, but I suspect this is another cherry picking by the interplanetary big 3 brewers ( OK, I know they don't brew on other planets yet, but rest assured anyone who did would be swiftly made an offer they couldn't refuse by caring Big Daddy bear Inbev, or Coors or SABMiller).
So, on next to look at the Bowery, a literal description since despite its favourable music choice and long list of bottled classics, I was tired and waining and wanting a comfy sit down, so I did not linger. I was heading for Henry's but passing the Green Room, an enigma of real ale uncertainty for some time now, although I knew I would get no where to quietly sit, I decided to pop in anyway.
A landlord pump clip was turned round and the other bare, possibly the same sight that had greeted me on my last umpteen visits, but I was past caring by now. Still, I meekly enquired if real ale was or would be available, and then came an epiphany for me, when a man with a thin face, a niggly voice and what I recall, likely wrongly, as a pork pie hat, told me that they didn't sell it anymore. So, finally they come clean - all we have to do now is wait for the next change in management or a rethink, and I will be finally tempted to go in.
So, off for my final destination, I dithered over a trip to the Wick At Both Ends, but worried that I may not have a good beer choice, and Henrys seemed too far, so I headed for Trippets, which was very busy with punters and a "disc Jockey" playing "records" as I believe the young folk are calling them.
The lighting was a bit naff but sort of amusingly so, the main area was packed so I was sat at the back of the place watching the Long Play record spinner bang out some choonz, or something in English, whilst enjoying a nice pint of Thornbridge Alchemy, once again. All in all a satisfying night fact finding, of not a very relaxing nature, and a good precursor to a Saturday out in the countryside.
Droning on about the Valleys.
So, the cock eyed plan aforementioned was that I would get a lift off Wee Fatha, from Handsworth to the Coach and Horses, for which I would tender a pint, and meet Dave Barraharri as he shall now be known, at the pub for a few halves before he left for work.
In reality, Wee Ftaha was in the grip of financial anxiety and so virtually metered me all the way to the pub, although he did lend me a tenner to negate my planned trip to the cashpoint. Alas, this would have filled in time, since having got there at 11.30 and assuming the staff milling around and doors being open and lights on meant they were trading, was told that i could not buy a beer for another half an hour. They offered me the chance to sit outside reading the beer list and deciding what to buy, but this felt like invited torture so I walked out to try and find a lovely path to yomp along for 30 minutes.
The Drone Valley no doubt has some lovely bits to it, but I get the feeling you kind of need to know where they are. Fortuitously, after only 5 or 6 minutes walking, I did find a path, but its only signed in one direction, so I spent most of my time circling the edge of the field seeking a stile to get out over. Once found, I clambered this broken edifice to follow a real path to another stile/path conundrum, following a sign into a field the only visible way out of which was blocked, and then out onto the Dronfield Rotary walk. This was ominously taking me away from the pub and my starting point, so I hurried back to find Barrharri outside the pub already ensconced with a half.
Dave had White Swan or similar from Thornbridge dispensed from the bar inside, and I quickly fetched a half of the Arran Red Squirrel. I have never had this before on draught, and it was a pleasing malty ale which lacked a little in body, and seemed to lack condition. Next Dave got a half of the Dark Star Festival, which he transferred from his wobbly plastic cup into his cherished half pint glass, and I went for a pint of the Buxton Dark Dales, which was as chewy and uncompromising as their Axe Edge, the difference being this was a Dark IPA.
The smell of the barbecue was making me hungry, but luckily for me The Coach and Horses had imposed dietary restrictions on me by asking £5.00 for a burger. On my limited budget, no amount of beer hunger was going to tempt me to part with that kind of cash, and I did ask how the burgers were going, hoping the kind lady behind the bar would detect and appreciate my subtle irony. She did neither.
Still, I stayed on for a couple more, Dave had another beer, and I a pint from the inside of a Derby Brewery beer with a rabbit on - confirmation to follow ! This was a flat lifeless ale that looked like it had been sat in a jug for two hours and tasted nothing like a hoppy Derby offering, with an odd dry malt and no discernable predominant flavour, a bit like one of those unfathomable Millis beers that they brew in Kent - the irony of a hopless Kentish Ale, stop it Millis, it hurts....
Luckily I pretended the beer was refreshing, bearing in mind that at first and somehow at the end it tasted OK if uninspiring, before using my real glass to get the best pint of the day, a fantastic 568ml of Fyne Ales Avalanche, which quickly rid me of the odd taste of the last pint whilst I waited for the bus. My stop ended about 13.50 as the coach arrived so I ran off to catch that to the Miners Arms in Dronfield.
his is possibly my first visit to the pub, and despite the inconvenience of arriving just as they stopped serving food, I was able to choose a tasty half from the range of Rev James, Black Sheep Bitter, Kelham Island Easy Rider and Hook Norton bitter which I had a very nice half of. I didn't try any of the other beers due to time, but the bitter was in great nick and the other festival goers all seemed to be enjoying that and the Rev James.
The Millthorpe Conundrum
Out next onto Festival bus route 3 to go onto what I assume is valley number 2, that being the end of the Lineker Valley, and up to the Barlow Brewery. On the timetable it clearly marks the Royal Oak at Millthorpe on this route, but the driver barely paused at the bottom of Millthorpe Lane. Some passengers commented and it turned out that persons not from the area, and so not able to notice we were passing the pub, had fancied a visit, but there was a goodly wait until the next bus.
I noted from the 3 Valleys website that there was no mention of the Royal Oak, but there was a (then) pictureless reference to the Devonshire Arms - no idea which one it was, the only one I could think of was the one at Middle Handley, making it the opposite side of the Drone Valley heading for Unstone and Chesterfield, and not served by any buses, I now know its on all 3 routes and the 30 - could it be the one at Dore ? And does that make the furthest Valley Abbeydale? I concede I am not hot on valley knowledge, and I never thought to ask when I was out, and I now think there's a Devonshire in Barlow, so who knows....
So why the omission ? I noted that some of the pubs at the end of Holmesfield weren't involved this year, but that seemed inevitable for the Horns with its beer calamity last year, but surprising for the likes of the Angel, which offers real ale anyway as far as I know ( The George and Dragon was again offering Peak Ales, so perhaps they always sell them ? ). The Royal Oak was not featured last year, but no bus went nearer to it than Holmesfield, but this year was surely a golden opportunity ?
Well, for whatever reason, they didn't seem to be involved, and when I got there by car en route from the brewery to the Rutland courtesy of Dave later on (thanks mate, a very kind offer ), it was resolutely shut. Now i realise it may not usually open all day Saturday, but why not make an exception today, even if not involved ?
It seems incongrous for a pub saved by the locals after a possibly 15 year fight by the owners to close it down, that the pub should be so reticent to invite trade. I mentioned the puzzle to Wee Keefy yesterday, he has visited a few times with me, and he noted that there was a no bikers sign outside. Obviously, the pub is thriving sufficiently well to be choosy, and to risk alienating a chunk of passing trade, but this does not seem sensible or plausible. So where is the Royal Oak going one wonders ?
Anyway, gripe over, the Barlow brewery were participating by opening their tiny bar ( and it is literally just that, with seating in marquees and a food van outside ), and providing some decent bluesy entertainment from a singer called Whiskey Bob Shaker, who played two Tom Waits songs to open (albeit likely covered by Waits himself ), which immediately prompted me to not go for the bus but to stay and cadge a lift instead.
Beers wise I had half of the Barlow Dark and half of their impressive imperial stout. I secured a chair and sat in fleeting windy sunshine soaking up the music and sipping both beers, with the imperial stout being surprisingly drinkable. All too soon however I had to leave and Dave Barraharri picked me up outside and whisked me off via my getting him lost using my "knowledge " (and taking him to the closed Royal Oak as previously noted) en route to the Rutland.
Here there was the full compliment of Black Sheep beers, as advertised, along with Castle rock Pale. I nursed a half of this sat in a corner between the bar and a magnificent shiny copper flumed fireplace, watching people queue thirstily at the bar. I only stayed for a half here because really I needed to eat by now, and it appeared that the imperial stout may have been a bit too refreshing.
So, I staggered up the winding lane to Northen Common, and went in a new pub for me, the Hearty Oak (pub and kitchen), formerly more sensibly named the Hearts of Oak I think. Outside was a barbecue, inside was rammed with drinkers and diners and on the bar were a couple of Raw and a couple of Abbeydale beers. I tried pints of both the Raw Centennial and dark Peak, the latter probably the better since the first was a bit tired, and gorged on a cheeseburger and then a sausage butty, both with an extra piece thrown in as it was burnt - note, I did get a say in this, one of the staff members even brought me the extra sausage in in case I anted to cram it in my bun, which is both what I did, and not a euphemism.
After this a mild discombobulation befell me and having missed the bus to just about anywhere soon, I walked round to the Miners to catch one back to the Brewery, with a group of festival-goers including someone called Spencer, a friendly bloke who seemed interested in real ale and probably had a web identity of spencerocks or similar. Either way I feel sure he would have left with this blog address in his possession.....
Whilst here I had the Barlow Festival IPA and Calendar Ale, which I supped under cover whilst chatting with my new afable cohort and the inimitable JB, whom I spotted sitting nearby. As was only fitting in his presence, the subject of the next bus out came up and true to form he had all the information I needed. Soon I had said my goodbyes and was off to the Hearty Oak, only to swap buses, and then down to the Castle Inn off Twentywell Lane.
Many people had crowded onto the bus to get here this time and inside it was rammed. It was busy anyway with food trade and in the room to the right people were amassing for the Champions League Final. On the bar were Bradfield Blonde, a Blue Bee beer which I only noticed later, and two Oakwell ales, which I had a half of each, their Oakwell bitter and the senior. Both were refreshing if a little innocuous compared with some of the earlier ales tried but they were well kept.
From here I walked down the main road to Abbeydale Road and thankfully flagged down a bus into town and was home quicker than I expected, in time to watch the end of the match and to make some tasty food.
The festival was another enjoyable day out, the travelling time ensuring that you probably end up drinking less then you'd expect if you are out for say 8 hours, and also of course the bus is essential in helping you to get to the pubs which this year, perhaps more than before, are spread over a larger area. The only regret is that I had not started at the other end and took in the George in Holmsfield and the Cross Scythes at Totley, or maybe even the mysterious Devonshire Arms. Perhaps next year.
Crich on a chuffin bike.
So, with bank Holiday washed out, it was inevitable that my desire to get some exercise would wind up getting me soaked, and Monday was the chosen day of punishment for a Lea, Crich and Derwent Valley yomp. Alas, its getting late so am going to have to reign in the details, but suffice to say route wise we walked from lea to Lea Bridge near Smedleys Mill, up over the hill through woods to the Cromford Canal then along to Crich Carr and up an extremely long and steep hill to near the Tramway Museum, and into the Cliff Inn, before following the road, Leashaw, back to the car.
(no bikes were actually usedi n this slog)
The Cliff Inn used to be Hardy Hanson's pub, likely doing a roaring trade in food, possible a long ago regular in the guide along with the tramway, and now somewhat reinvented as a traditional pub selling real ales and some home cooked food. They don't appear to have a website but an enthusiastic review at Peakdistrictonline.co.uk/peak-district-pubs which for some reason I can't copy over (possibly an HTML anomaly) which gives a fairly ingratiatory splash on the merits of the pub.
One of its central themes is the fact that the pub serves locally brewed real ales, with much reference here and in the GBG of beers brewed within a 15 mile radius of the pub. It may not specify that all the ales fall into this category, and indeed on this visit two dont - (perhaps Black Sheep and Landlord are regulars?) but the two guests were, and this is a development to be encouraged.
Wee Keefy had a half of the Brampton Golden Bud - which at £1.50 is a bit steep for a half at 3.8; and I a pint of the Thornbridge Kipling, which is bear 6% and had a £3.30 price tag to match, although thats not dissimilar to Sheffield these days. Prices aside its great to see a pub signing up to the idea of getting beer from as near as possible instead of shipping it in via sometimes 3 different distribution plants and wholesalers. Given the overkill caused by so many places selling the same beers in the area (with noticable exceptions, the Thorn Tree Matlock, Royal Oak and Hope and Anchor Wirksworth, and Bear Inn Alderwasley excepted ) its nice to see a good range of beers reflecting the diversity of Derbyshire brewing.
If this plan could be rolled out nationwide, this could form the central tenet of a practical plan to secure the future of many threatened pubs around he UK, based on them selling as much local products as possible and thereby repaying the local community for their custom with tacit support for small local businesses. Selling local ale on its own wont halt the hostelries decline but it might make pubs more enticing to visit and more active in the wider local economy.
More news soon, likely on my return from Scotland next week.
Wee Beefy
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
Blake Hotel, Freedom House Walkley, Red Deer, Old House and Washington City Centre
Good evening,
as threatened previously, I am going to update you briefly on my last Friday night, or, indeed, any night, drinking of this month. Alas you see, May is a pay period procrastinator, having got my funds for this month on 28th April, just before a bank holiday (good, but guaranteed to mean you spend heavily at the beginning of the month ), with the much anticipated June wage not due until the 31st of May, near 5 weeks later and annoyingly the day after the bank hols.
So, relishing this final fling, and as is my favoured after work drill, I left before 17.00 and got on the 5 o clock 31 to Daniel Hill and hopped off for the Blake. I was meeting Carlos, who I haven't seen for ages, but have seen enough times to know he'd be late. Which was fine, apart from the fact I arrived at 17.12 and was due to meet him at 17.30.
Inside the pub was nicely busy but not yet rammed, and I was delighted to spot some of their fine pork pies on the bar, so bought one of them, and what was to have been a half. "A half? Its Friday you know " said the barman, and despite my crap insincere protests about being early and long nights etc, I caved in after a lengthy interrogation of about 25 seconds and had a pint of the excellent Oldershaw Dark, which was £2.20.
I sat at the back of the left hand room trying to find the paper interesting, taking a few pics on my trusty phone and eating my pie, all the while trying not to drink too much of my pint, but a lot was gone by the time my phone rang. It was Wee Keefy - me and he and our friend Jambon had made a vague rolling agreement to let each other know when we were heading for the Blake so as to meet up. Despite the fact that Wee Keefy and Carlos live in the same house, neither knew the other was planning on going.
Overhearing the plan secured Carlos a lift and myself a slightly shorter wait; although they arrived after 20 to, I might have been waiting much longer if they hadn't come in the car. Already familiar with Blake best practice, all 3 got a pie each, WK a pint of the Burton Bridge, Carlos a pint of Warsteiner or Becks, can't recall which, and Jambon a very "eclectic " pint of a Grafton beer.
On tasting it I noted that, despite his description of it tasting of furniture polish it was in fact the Ahtanum hops that were prominent. I had to also explain however that many brewers have harnessed their astringent flavour to glorious effect, when matched with complimentary citrus hops, but that Grafton had steered clear of this precedent and created a one dimensional dry metallic beer instead. I reminded him that I could have advised, and Keefy obligingly made reference to my status as the oracle.
All too soon the smokers in our party had us sat outside in the surprisingly large garden, in steeply dropping temperatures. Obviously I was dressed for a summers eve and was quickly feeling the chill as Keefy fetched me another Oldershaw and Jambon a pint of Keefy's Burton Bridge choice - I think it was called Top Garter. The aforementioned brother (note, he is actually my brother, I am not paraphrasing some creaking afro Carribean sterotype here...) had other plans afoot so had to leave us, and we sat outside for a while longer before my desperate plea to return to the warmth bore fruit.
We sat at the back of the left room again beneath an excellent poster advertising IPA from a London brewery that I thought was Reids, but on my pic seems to begin with an A. I tried the Burton Bridge myself and it was really nice with a floral fruity hop flavour, as well as the Allgates California that I had enjoyed on my last visit, before we headed off.
We visited the Freedom House, at my suggestion, and breaking with tradition, we opted to head right at the entrance - and lo it was thus becometh that oh the right was the wrong side in thee quaint Inne, for that was where the rapscallions and those loud of remonstrance were base-d.
In modern language, this means that the decision not to go in the welcoming (if unlit!) left side had demonstrated that I appeared to have been going in the best room all along. The right is a lot less comfy withalmost nowhere to sit, and definitely nowhere to have a quiet chat, and is very much targeted at people who play pool and consider sitting down to be a girls pastime. There was one beer on, Moonshine, so Jambon bought the round, with Carlos on cooking lager which may have been Fosters, and we went outside in to the beer yard.
Here I discovered that the Moonshine, though clear, had a rather strange taste, one that Jams found so distasteful that he threw all of the contents of his glass into a plant pot, a rather rash action which meant it was going to be difficult replacing mine. Basically the beer was old and had gone off, but there was no alternative to swap it for and I had gulped at first and then suffered more than a third by the time I admitted defeat.
After a refreshed gentleman took centre stage to deliver an evangelical descant on kebabs, and to question why we intended heading for the Walkley Cottage when he knew it as "the sausage cottage", we took our leave. I solemnly placed my half full pint on the bar and stated that the Moonshine was off, to which the barman replied "oh" but I was on my way out and didn't request recompense so I have no idea whether the beer was taken off. Having been my recommendation, this was a poor showing fro the House, but hopefully just a temporary blip in its recent good form.
We decided to change route slightly as I wanted Carlos and Jams to try the Red Deer, and not because we were concerned by what we might expect from a venue known as the sausage cottage. We jumped off past Henderson's factory and cut across the back, with me briefly nipping into Harrisons to see Dave, before we got to the Red Deer.
The beer range was good but there was perhaps less to tempt me than of late, Carlos was happy with his lager and me and Jambon had excellent pints of the Wharefebank Tether pale ale, after which I nipped back for a half of the Moorhouses Pride of Pendle. It wasn't very nice, and didn't taste anything like I thought it should, but on taking it back and ignoring the staff's insistence that it may be the wrong beer as it was the wrong colour, the mystery was eventually explained as being just that, and the beer was replaced with an actual Pride of Pendle, which in many respects was better than the Tether.
Next we headed for a food top up for Jams at a takeaway of dubious authenticity (kebabs, pizza and fish and chips, how scintillatingly uni-national!?!) before we headed at my behest, to the Old House, on the promise of real ale and good music. Alas on entering, the music was achingly bland townie cheese, which stops being ironic, if even it ever was, quite quickly I find. I lost my companions whilst eyeing up some decent real ale, and its a good job I hesitated to find out what they wanted to do, because the venue was roundly dismissed on their return from the facilities, and we headed on once more.
Perhaps being of a certain age and a certain musical disposition, it was inevitable that next we would wind up at the Washington, scene of many post work revelries from the past and probably until recently the only place to get a decent pint after midnight. Inside it was packed and there was Moonshine and Tetleys on the bar, with an interesting if slightly odd selection of tunes playing. The Moonshine in here is almost always cloudy and perhaps a little cold, but it always seems to taste OK, if unexceptional, and besides, I admit it, we weren't in here for the beer.
I bumped into Simon from the 3 Valleys fest last year, an event we both realised only then was on the next day, and which sadly finances have forbade me from attending. I only stopped for one pint as well, since much as I was enjoying myself, i wanted to avoid paying for a taxi and so ran to High Street ( erm, in my imagination at least ) to catch the last bus, getting there about 10 minutes early, but safe at least in the knowledge I'd save some cash.
Overall it was a good night out, with a few minor dips in quality, both beer and music wise, but this shows that you can find a mix of different pubs all selling real ale quite close by, whilst still enjoying their unique and particular vibes and idiosyncrasies.
I am off awaah to Scotland a week on Saturday but will have been watered financially by then so may have a quick night out, but otherwise will be back to update the details of my Caledonian Crawl in mid June.
Cheers
Wee Beefy
as threatened previously, I am going to update you briefly on my last Friday night, or, indeed, any night, drinking of this month. Alas you see, May is a pay period procrastinator, having got my funds for this month on 28th April, just before a bank holiday (good, but guaranteed to mean you spend heavily at the beginning of the month ), with the much anticipated June wage not due until the 31st of May, near 5 weeks later and annoyingly the day after the bank hols.
So, relishing this final fling, and as is my favoured after work drill, I left before 17.00 and got on the 5 o clock 31 to Daniel Hill and hopped off for the Blake. I was meeting Carlos, who I haven't seen for ages, but have seen enough times to know he'd be late. Which was fine, apart from the fact I arrived at 17.12 and was due to meet him at 17.30.
Inside the pub was nicely busy but not yet rammed, and I was delighted to spot some of their fine pork pies on the bar, so bought one of them, and what was to have been a half. "A half? Its Friday you know " said the barman, and despite my crap insincere protests about being early and long nights etc, I caved in after a lengthy interrogation of about 25 seconds and had a pint of the excellent Oldershaw Dark, which was £2.20.
I sat at the back of the left hand room trying to find the paper interesting, taking a few pics on my trusty phone and eating my pie, all the while trying not to drink too much of my pint, but a lot was gone by the time my phone rang. It was Wee Keefy - me and he and our friend Jambon had made a vague rolling agreement to let each other know when we were heading for the Blake so as to meet up. Despite the fact that Wee Keefy and Carlos live in the same house, neither knew the other was planning on going.
Overhearing the plan secured Carlos a lift and myself a slightly shorter wait; although they arrived after 20 to, I might have been waiting much longer if they hadn't come in the car. Already familiar with Blake best practice, all 3 got a pie each, WK a pint of the Burton Bridge, Carlos a pint of Warsteiner or Becks, can't recall which, and Jambon a very "eclectic " pint of a Grafton beer.
On tasting it I noted that, despite his description of it tasting of furniture polish it was in fact the Ahtanum hops that were prominent. I had to also explain however that many brewers have harnessed their astringent flavour to glorious effect, when matched with complimentary citrus hops, but that Grafton had steered clear of this precedent and created a one dimensional dry metallic beer instead. I reminded him that I could have advised, and Keefy obligingly made reference to my status as the oracle.
All too soon the smokers in our party had us sat outside in the surprisingly large garden, in steeply dropping temperatures. Obviously I was dressed for a summers eve and was quickly feeling the chill as Keefy fetched me another Oldershaw and Jambon a pint of Keefy's Burton Bridge choice - I think it was called Top Garter. The aforementioned brother (note, he is actually my brother, I am not paraphrasing some creaking afro Carribean sterotype here...) had other plans afoot so had to leave us, and we sat outside for a while longer before my desperate plea to return to the warmth bore fruit.
We sat at the back of the left room again beneath an excellent poster advertising IPA from a London brewery that I thought was Reids, but on my pic seems to begin with an A. I tried the Burton Bridge myself and it was really nice with a floral fruity hop flavour, as well as the Allgates California that I had enjoyed on my last visit, before we headed off.
We visited the Freedom House, at my suggestion, and breaking with tradition, we opted to head right at the entrance - and lo it was thus becometh that oh the right was the wrong side in thee quaint Inne, for that was where the rapscallions and those loud of remonstrance were base-d.
In modern language, this means that the decision not to go in the welcoming (if unlit!) left side had demonstrated that I appeared to have been going in the best room all along. The right is a lot less comfy withalmost nowhere to sit, and definitely nowhere to have a quiet chat, and is very much targeted at people who play pool and consider sitting down to be a girls pastime. There was one beer on, Moonshine, so Jambon bought the round, with Carlos on cooking lager which may have been Fosters, and we went outside in to the beer yard.
Here I discovered that the Moonshine, though clear, had a rather strange taste, one that Jams found so distasteful that he threw all of the contents of his glass into a plant pot, a rather rash action which meant it was going to be difficult replacing mine. Basically the beer was old and had gone off, but there was no alternative to swap it for and I had gulped at first and then suffered more than a third by the time I admitted defeat.
After a refreshed gentleman took centre stage to deliver an evangelical descant on kebabs, and to question why we intended heading for the Walkley Cottage when he knew it as "the sausage cottage", we took our leave. I solemnly placed my half full pint on the bar and stated that the Moonshine was off, to which the barman replied "oh" but I was on my way out and didn't request recompense so I have no idea whether the beer was taken off. Having been my recommendation, this was a poor showing fro the House, but hopefully just a temporary blip in its recent good form.
We decided to change route slightly as I wanted Carlos and Jams to try the Red Deer, and not because we were concerned by what we might expect from a venue known as the sausage cottage. We jumped off past Henderson's factory and cut across the back, with me briefly nipping into Harrisons to see Dave, before we got to the Red Deer.
The beer range was good but there was perhaps less to tempt me than of late, Carlos was happy with his lager and me and Jambon had excellent pints of the Wharefebank Tether pale ale, after which I nipped back for a half of the Moorhouses Pride of Pendle. It wasn't very nice, and didn't taste anything like I thought it should, but on taking it back and ignoring the staff's insistence that it may be the wrong beer as it was the wrong colour, the mystery was eventually explained as being just that, and the beer was replaced with an actual Pride of Pendle, which in many respects was better than the Tether.
Next we headed for a food top up for Jams at a takeaway of dubious authenticity (kebabs, pizza and fish and chips, how scintillatingly uni-national!?!) before we headed at my behest, to the Old House, on the promise of real ale and good music. Alas on entering, the music was achingly bland townie cheese, which stops being ironic, if even it ever was, quite quickly I find. I lost my companions whilst eyeing up some decent real ale, and its a good job I hesitated to find out what they wanted to do, because the venue was roundly dismissed on their return from the facilities, and we headed on once more.
Perhaps being of a certain age and a certain musical disposition, it was inevitable that next we would wind up at the Washington, scene of many post work revelries from the past and probably until recently the only place to get a decent pint after midnight. Inside it was packed and there was Moonshine and Tetleys on the bar, with an interesting if slightly odd selection of tunes playing. The Moonshine in here is almost always cloudy and perhaps a little cold, but it always seems to taste OK, if unexceptional, and besides, I admit it, we weren't in here for the beer.
I bumped into Simon from the 3 Valleys fest last year, an event we both realised only then was on the next day, and which sadly finances have forbade me from attending. I only stopped for one pint as well, since much as I was enjoying myself, i wanted to avoid paying for a taxi and so ran to High Street ( erm, in my imagination at least ) to catch the last bus, getting there about 10 minutes early, but safe at least in the knowledge I'd save some cash.
Overall it was a good night out, with a few minor dips in quality, both beer and music wise, but this shows that you can find a mix of different pubs all selling real ale quite close by, whilst still enjoying their unique and particular vibes and idiosyncrasies.
I am off awaah to Scotland a week on Saturday but will have been watered financially by then so may have a quick night out, but otherwise will be back to update the details of my Caledonian Crawl in mid June.
Cheers
Wee Beefy
Thursday, 19 May 2011
Staffordshire and South Derbyshire pubs by bus
Hello,
and welcome to my shock news that I am finally going to write up my first trip of the new year, out with Davefromtshop on a jaunt between Derby and Burton, from way back in January.
Its important to clarify that as ever in such circumstances, it was the mislaying of my detailed accurate and eventually indecipherable notes that scuppered my efforts and indeed dampened my intent to write up this welcome to 2011 pub crawl. So apologies for the fact that all of the beer information, with perhaps the exception of the first pub we stopped at, will no longer be applicable.
Despite the above, may I invite you to pull up a cup of tea , pour yourself a chair and settle down to imbibe the details of a frosty pub trip.
So, it was the first Tuesday of 2011 - not a particularly astonishing event but the earliest opportunity that Dave could get cover for his emporium and the penultimate and therefore best day of my remaining leave before returning to the drudgery of work. We set off early in crisp frosty sunshine and caught the train to Derby, where we stopped off for a coffee before catching one of the V services to Tutbury, arriving at 11.30.
I had done some preparatory research on tinterweb prior to setting out and thought I had good directions to the pub, however the road we seemed to require went up either side of a dip, and we guesstimated to turn right, which was alas the wrong choice - a fact we only discovered on climbing to near the top of the hill on that side. Having been informed we should have been on the hill on the left we eventually remedied this and ended up at the Cross keys.
This pub has sold Burton Ale since it was released as a cask ale more than 30 years ago - to paraphrase the GBG - a fact confirmed by the friendly host who proudly showed us his Burton Master Cellarman badge and told us a bit about the beer, including the surprising fact that it was currently brewed at one of the Manchester breweries, possibly Lees. In order to fully appreciate his testimony, it was inevitable that we tried a pint each of the subject matter, which cost us £5.92.
We would have liked to have lingered here a lot longer, to enjoy the friendly banter at the bar and to try the Pedigree as well, but we had a bus to catch, and a couple of ideas for other pubs to try. Once back in the old centre of Tutbury we went in the oldest pub in the town, which is the Old Dog and Partridge. Despite its undoubted age credentials, this was a disappointing visit, not started well by our entrance being blocked by work un-decorating the Christmas Tree, and an uninspiring range of expensive super regional ales. I know that in these pub company times its perhaps churlish to moan at the range of ales available, especially when considering how many pubs don't even bother selling the stuff at all, but its inescapable that the pub is crying out for more focus on drinkers, and a decent local beer would do the job nicely.
Instead we somehow found a table not set for diners and had acceptable halves of Youngs Special at a cost of £3.22 for the two. Afterwards we still had a short window of spare time so headed along the street and found the New Inn on the right. This pub packed more charm into its quiet and perhaps tired interior, helped by a distinct lack of customers, and perhaps more so by its natural dim lighting and dark colour scheme, than the last oub could ever hope to. They sold one real ale, a decent pint of Pedigree, and I had a half which was approximately £1.45 and Dave a small measure of Jamesons that cost something like £1.18 if my jotting is to be believed.
Soon we were heading back towards Derby and alighting in Etwall, to visit the Spread Eagle. I had read quite a bit about this pub, how it had hit hard times and now, having been bought and subsequently revitalised by two local businessmen, how it has been turned back into a proper community pub. This was a good news story, and a strong factor in the decision to pop in. The other was its apparent vintage, which turned out to be an interesting lesson in the pitfalls of expectation and interpretation.
Because, gawd love em some folks have placed quite some emphasis on the pubs original features and redoubtable age. The thing is, I have been rather spoilt in my pub travels thus far, and so had all sorts of imagined appearances for the pub, even after having briefly spied it on the way down. All I am getting to is the fact that old as the building may be, the interior, whilst pleasant and finished to a high standard, is so modern as to jar with my idea of the old building.
Now that, is of course entirely my fault. I had no reason to imagine a younger Olde Trip or an undiscovered Harrow at Steep, I just kind of defaulted to that expectation based on the write up. Is this just an idiosyncrasy that I display or have others noticed themselves doing it ? I remember a brilliant example of a 15th century pub in the GBG in Wiltshire that when we got there had a 1970's WMC style front room and a crass 1990's faux countrified lounge area, which coupled with its dreadful beer made for a huge let down.
Anyhoo, luckily my self tricking had not affected my appreciation of the beer, and we settled down in the room to the right with2 pints of Bass ( £5.20) followed by a pint and a half of Pedigree, at £3.90, all the while arguing with the dunderheads at BT about fixing my phone line and Internet connection.
Soon we were back on the V3 again heading for the Olde Talbot at Hilton. The GBG for many years promised it opened at 15.30 but we know from past experience that the week after New Year is when the status quo is abandoned and the routines are disturbed, and true to form the Olde Talbot was closed when we arrived at 15.40. We quickly found some opening times and formulated a fallback plan.
We walked a little further through the village, not really knowing what we were intending to do or where we were headed, when we noticed a sign for the Hilton House Hotel. We found the entrance to the bar at the back and walked in expecting to have to sup a couple of soft drinks and to our surprise found a cosy bookshelf festooned bar room with 2 handpumps on the bar - and they were open.
We opted for a half each of the Spitfire and a bag of crisps which cost us £3.25 in total , and settled down to chat briefly with the bar staff about their secret workplace and to try and not seem amazed that they did quite a good trade in evening meals. You see, its probably really well known in the local area, but it struck me that other than thirsty guests, your average Hilton House Hotel bar customer was a long standing regular and or someone living within 5 miles of the Hotel. Not that we were complaining of course, this was a truly pleasant surprise and a warm and comfy place to relax, even if we were doing so in anticipation of the Talbot opening.
In respect of which we left at just gone 16.00 and walked round the corner to the pub which had the sign lit up, and went in through a low door to a right hand bar in a very old pub which was exactly how I had imagined the Spread Eagle would look. Having noted the beers on offer we transferred to the rather warmer long bar on the left and picked a table towards the back of the room, admiring the view of the bar and some rather careworn ancient beer mats with tables to match. We had two excellent pints of Amber Ales AVB (£5.70), followed by a half of Bass for me and a Talisker for Dave.
Next we had to head back into Derby to catch the other Burton service, which I think was the V2. We got in just in time to run back to our starting point at Albert Street and get the bus to Willington.
I visited the Green Man here years ago with Wee Fatha and it was excellent, with a great pint of Bass and some good guests, along with Pedigree I think. Returning now the beer side was a little disappointing, with a choice of two beers, me and Dave both opted for a half of Pedigree, which was an average example and came to £2.90.
We were hoping to visit the Rising Sun across the road next but that plan fell flat when we realised that there was no one in the pub to serve us. The pub appears to be split into two halves with an entrance on the corner of the main road and one facing the station. Despite wandering in and seeing two people playing pool, and even after standing optimistically at the bar clearly fancying the EPA from the choice of two or three real ales on offer, the lights were off in the rest of the pub and after 5 minutes of seeing no-one we decided that we weren't going to get served, so left. What a strange way to run a pub!
We went up the road a little next to walk through the enormous car park of the Green Dragon . This is an eclectic pub with subtle warm lighting and an odd mix of old furniture, with a few handpumps on the bar, some interesting music being played and a lackadaisical atmosphere which still managed to include getting served. The two Derventio beers had unfortunately run out, although one pump clip was turned round already, so we opted for a pint each of the Sharps Doom Bar. We enjoyed this whilst we sat round the corner from the bar admiring the layout and fittings and the warm glow of the fire. Definitely a pub to try again.
Leaving Willington we headed back into Derby, and headed straight away up King Street and Ashbourne Road for the Greyhound, a pub recently acquired by the Derby Brewery Company (well, likely over a year ago now ), and en route to our intended penultimate stop at Mr Grundys Tap House or similar.
Entering through a side door from a passage there is a very modern feel to what is an old and low ceilinged pub, with a shiny new bar each side of the dividing wall between the smaller front room and the long one at the back,where we chose to sit with our pints of Peregrine Porter from Cotleigh.
At this point we decided to cut our losses and have some very nice and inexpensive food, along with several more beers, the details of which am afraid will have to be extricated from Dave via the video he will have taken on our way home of me drunkenly yet accurately reciting our every drink of the day.
After leaving the Greyhound it was too late to make it to Mr Grundys so we tried to catch a bus into town, a plan which didn't work for a number of reasons, not least a lack of detail on buses in the bus stop timetables. With time at a premium we walked all the way back into town and onto the Alexandra, where we definitely had a dark beer and a chat, before a last pint (after reaching the station and finding the train seriously delayed), at the Brunswick, which I know was a pint of their station porter for both of us.
We got home in good time after a fantastic day, notable for my having rashly changed our plans along the way ( we never made Burton or Barton Under Needwood or Newton Solney ), and some fantastic thriving and deservedly popular real ale pubs, dispensing for the most part, some excellent beer.
For now, I am off out in 17 hours for pints in the Blake, so may have some Walkley or perhaps town news depemding where we go, to share soon.
Wee Beefy.
and welcome to my shock news that I am finally going to write up my first trip of the new year, out with Davefromtshop on a jaunt between Derby and Burton, from way back in January.
Its important to clarify that as ever in such circumstances, it was the mislaying of my detailed accurate and eventually indecipherable notes that scuppered my efforts and indeed dampened my intent to write up this welcome to 2011 pub crawl. So apologies for the fact that all of the beer information, with perhaps the exception of the first pub we stopped at, will no longer be applicable.
Despite the above, may I invite you to pull up a cup of tea , pour yourself a chair and settle down to imbibe the details of a frosty pub trip.
So, it was the first Tuesday of 2011 - not a particularly astonishing event but the earliest opportunity that Dave could get cover for his emporium and the penultimate and therefore best day of my remaining leave before returning to the drudgery of work. We set off early in crisp frosty sunshine and caught the train to Derby, where we stopped off for a coffee before catching one of the V services to Tutbury, arriving at 11.30.
I had done some preparatory research on tinterweb prior to setting out and thought I had good directions to the pub, however the road we seemed to require went up either side of a dip, and we guesstimated to turn right, which was alas the wrong choice - a fact we only discovered on climbing to near the top of the hill on that side. Having been informed we should have been on the hill on the left we eventually remedied this and ended up at the Cross keys.
This pub has sold Burton Ale since it was released as a cask ale more than 30 years ago - to paraphrase the GBG - a fact confirmed by the friendly host who proudly showed us his Burton Master Cellarman badge and told us a bit about the beer, including the surprising fact that it was currently brewed at one of the Manchester breweries, possibly Lees. In order to fully appreciate his testimony, it was inevitable that we tried a pint each of the subject matter, which cost us £5.92.
We would have liked to have lingered here a lot longer, to enjoy the friendly banter at the bar and to try the Pedigree as well, but we had a bus to catch, and a couple of ideas for other pubs to try. Once back in the old centre of Tutbury we went in the oldest pub in the town, which is the Old Dog and Partridge. Despite its undoubted age credentials, this was a disappointing visit, not started well by our entrance being blocked by work un-decorating the Christmas Tree, and an uninspiring range of expensive super regional ales. I know that in these pub company times its perhaps churlish to moan at the range of ales available, especially when considering how many pubs don't even bother selling the stuff at all, but its inescapable that the pub is crying out for more focus on drinkers, and a decent local beer would do the job nicely.
Instead we somehow found a table not set for diners and had acceptable halves of Youngs Special at a cost of £3.22 for the two. Afterwards we still had a short window of spare time so headed along the street and found the New Inn on the right. This pub packed more charm into its quiet and perhaps tired interior, helped by a distinct lack of customers, and perhaps more so by its natural dim lighting and dark colour scheme, than the last oub could ever hope to. They sold one real ale, a decent pint of Pedigree, and I had a half which was approximately £1.45 and Dave a small measure of Jamesons that cost something like £1.18 if my jotting is to be believed.
Soon we were heading back towards Derby and alighting in Etwall, to visit the Spread Eagle. I had read quite a bit about this pub, how it had hit hard times and now, having been bought and subsequently revitalised by two local businessmen, how it has been turned back into a proper community pub. This was a good news story, and a strong factor in the decision to pop in. The other was its apparent vintage, which turned out to be an interesting lesson in the pitfalls of expectation and interpretation.
Because, gawd love em some folks have placed quite some emphasis on the pubs original features and redoubtable age. The thing is, I have been rather spoilt in my pub travels thus far, and so had all sorts of imagined appearances for the pub, even after having briefly spied it on the way down. All I am getting to is the fact that old as the building may be, the interior, whilst pleasant and finished to a high standard, is so modern as to jar with my idea of the old building.
Now that, is of course entirely my fault. I had no reason to imagine a younger Olde Trip or an undiscovered Harrow at Steep, I just kind of defaulted to that expectation based on the write up. Is this just an idiosyncrasy that I display or have others noticed themselves doing it ? I remember a brilliant example of a 15th century pub in the GBG in Wiltshire that when we got there had a 1970's WMC style front room and a crass 1990's faux countrified lounge area, which coupled with its dreadful beer made for a huge let down.
Anyhoo, luckily my self tricking had not affected my appreciation of the beer, and we settled down in the room to the right with2 pints of Bass ( £5.20) followed by a pint and a half of Pedigree, at £3.90, all the while arguing with the dunderheads at BT about fixing my phone line and Internet connection.
Soon we were back on the V3 again heading for the Olde Talbot at Hilton. The GBG for many years promised it opened at 15.30 but we know from past experience that the week after New Year is when the status quo is abandoned and the routines are disturbed, and true to form the Olde Talbot was closed when we arrived at 15.40. We quickly found some opening times and formulated a fallback plan.
We walked a little further through the village, not really knowing what we were intending to do or where we were headed, when we noticed a sign for the Hilton House Hotel. We found the entrance to the bar at the back and walked in expecting to have to sup a couple of soft drinks and to our surprise found a cosy bookshelf festooned bar room with 2 handpumps on the bar - and they were open.
We opted for a half each of the Spitfire and a bag of crisps which cost us £3.25 in total , and settled down to chat briefly with the bar staff about their secret workplace and to try and not seem amazed that they did quite a good trade in evening meals. You see, its probably really well known in the local area, but it struck me that other than thirsty guests, your average Hilton House Hotel bar customer was a long standing regular and or someone living within 5 miles of the Hotel. Not that we were complaining of course, this was a truly pleasant surprise and a warm and comfy place to relax, even if we were doing so in anticipation of the Talbot opening.
In respect of which we left at just gone 16.00 and walked round the corner to the pub which had the sign lit up, and went in through a low door to a right hand bar in a very old pub which was exactly how I had imagined the Spread Eagle would look. Having noted the beers on offer we transferred to the rather warmer long bar on the left and picked a table towards the back of the room, admiring the view of the bar and some rather careworn ancient beer mats with tables to match. We had two excellent pints of Amber Ales AVB (£5.70), followed by a half of Bass for me and a Talisker for Dave.
Next we had to head back into Derby to catch the other Burton service, which I think was the V2. We got in just in time to run back to our starting point at Albert Street and get the bus to Willington.
I visited the Green Man here years ago with Wee Fatha and it was excellent, with a great pint of Bass and some good guests, along with Pedigree I think. Returning now the beer side was a little disappointing, with a choice of two beers, me and Dave both opted for a half of Pedigree, which was an average example and came to £2.90.
We were hoping to visit the Rising Sun across the road next but that plan fell flat when we realised that there was no one in the pub to serve us. The pub appears to be split into two halves with an entrance on the corner of the main road and one facing the station. Despite wandering in and seeing two people playing pool, and even after standing optimistically at the bar clearly fancying the EPA from the choice of two or three real ales on offer, the lights were off in the rest of the pub and after 5 minutes of seeing no-one we decided that we weren't going to get served, so left. What a strange way to run a pub!
We went up the road a little next to walk through the enormous car park of the Green Dragon . This is an eclectic pub with subtle warm lighting and an odd mix of old furniture, with a few handpumps on the bar, some interesting music being played and a lackadaisical atmosphere which still managed to include getting served. The two Derventio beers had unfortunately run out, although one pump clip was turned round already, so we opted for a pint each of the Sharps Doom Bar. We enjoyed this whilst we sat round the corner from the bar admiring the layout and fittings and the warm glow of the fire. Definitely a pub to try again.
Leaving Willington we headed back into Derby, and headed straight away up King Street and Ashbourne Road for the Greyhound, a pub recently acquired by the Derby Brewery Company (well, likely over a year ago now ), and en route to our intended penultimate stop at Mr Grundys Tap House or similar.
Entering through a side door from a passage there is a very modern feel to what is an old and low ceilinged pub, with a shiny new bar each side of the dividing wall between the smaller front room and the long one at the back,where we chose to sit with our pints of Peregrine Porter from Cotleigh.
At this point we decided to cut our losses and have some very nice and inexpensive food, along with several more beers, the details of which am afraid will have to be extricated from Dave via the video he will have taken on our way home of me drunkenly yet accurately reciting our every drink of the day.
After leaving the Greyhound it was too late to make it to Mr Grundys so we tried to catch a bus into town, a plan which didn't work for a number of reasons, not least a lack of detail on buses in the bus stop timetables. With time at a premium we walked all the way back into town and onto the Alexandra, where we definitely had a dark beer and a chat, before a last pint (after reaching the station and finding the train seriously delayed), at the Brunswick, which I know was a pint of their station porter for both of us.
We got home in good time after a fantastic day, notable for my having rashly changed our plans along the way ( we never made Burton or Barton Under Needwood or Newton Solney ), and some fantastic thriving and deservedly popular real ale pubs, dispensing for the most part, some excellent beer.
For now, I am off out in 17 hours for pints in the Blake, so may have some Walkley or perhaps town news depemding where we go, to share soon.
Wee Beefy.
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