Wee Beefy's beer review bites

Good evening again,

    on Friday, having recovered from my arctic trek, I had the chance to visit Davefromtshop at Davefromtshop's shop, to sample a few beers or 10. Arriving about 10 minutes before closing meant we could quickly get down to the serious business of reviewing the handpicked selection of offerings, which were shared between me Davefromtshop and Andrew, which meant we could have a few more than usual.

Starter for 10PM.

We began with a sensible pint of real live actual real ale from the handpumps in the shop. Alas the tasty Thorne Pale Ale had run out so it was a toss up between Farmers Brown Cow and something from Cottage. This posed a little dilemma for me - am not overly smitten with brown ale at all, and despite Dave's encouraging promises, I refused to believe that I would like the Cottage beer, since their output is so unfailingly poor or odd. In light of which, I decided to "go brown". (this is not a euphemism)

The Cow was in decent form, and being served slightly flat it allowed some of the flavours which may otherwise have been hidden in the foam to come through. This whetted our appetites for an eclectic selection that, relying on my decision to draft text the beer list being a sensible one, should be written below (Bottle conditioned ales are marked BCA):

Moor Brewery Somerland Gold 5.% BCA
Coors White Shield 5.6% BCA
Summer Wine Brewery Covenant Aromatic Red Ale 5.2%
Holsworthy Muck & Straw 4.4% BCA
Isle of Mull Terror of Tobermory 4.6%
Oban Bay Skelpt Lug 4.2%
Harvey's Imperial Stout unknown corked vintage 9% BCA
Summer Wine Brewery Teleporter 5%
Chiltern Anniversary Ale 6.1% BCA
Summer Wine Brewery Cohort Double Black Belgian Rye PA 7.5%
Durham White Stout 7.2% BCA
Nogne Porter 7% BCA

Its worth pointing out that the Holsworthy beer was a gift from a mysterious stranger, so its not on sale in the shop, which is a shame. Also, the Harvey's is a survivor from a long ago delivery - more about that in a bit.

Top beers were possibly the Holsworthy, the White Shield, the Teleporter, the White Stout and definitely the Nogne, somewhat expensive but price worthy porter from deepest Norway.

The devils in the (lack of) detail

The Somerland was also nice but not really what I was expecting, in that it had a very light bitter flavour that I hadn't really expected of a West Country Ale. That doesn't make it a bad beer, just a surprise. The Shield was a very well rounded but slightly less hoppy than I remembered beer, but scored well on the night owing to it having been brewed with impeccable malt balance, and also for containing very palatable drinking yeast which ironically you were always meant to keep aside with White Shield.

The SWB Covenant was a red ale (I think!) and was as bitter as you'd expect for one of their beers but it may be that I was expecting more identifiable red malt flavours. Instead I was slapped in the face by the hops and then spent time waiting for another layer of flavour to appear and make itself known, but it just never happened. Which was a shame. Mind you, this was the first beer displaying uncompromising hops that night so the change was noteworthy at least.

The muck and straw would likely horrify any hophead,citrus fiend or Simcoe addict but it was more West Country than the Moor offering whilst managing to be very drinkable, and if you forgive an understandable reliance on malt, was a very refreshing session beer.

The Isle of Mull offering was much anticipated, especially since I thought they had closed down, but alas this was a very weak flavoured one dimensional beer which failed to really have any winning characteristics. There was a hint of peat in the malt but no hops and it was, an overriding, really thin brew. A terror indeed.

The Oban Ales was memorable only for having a really strange malt flavour, and by simply failing entirely to be a dark ale - Bradfield Yorkshire Farmer is probably the same colour - not that I am sure now the cloud of grog has cleared where exactly I got the idea it was a dark beer from! It won a few extra points for having ensconced some peaty malt notes hat may have been present in a bottle of Islay ales, but again failed to carry much flavour, and it was the deceit of its alleged dark character that let down its score.

Not Grimstad but Grim stuff

By this time I was desperate for a real live dark beer, so we dusted off the last ARBS stock bottle of Harvey's Imperial Russian Stout, Gales brewery corked, with a label proclaiming that it was from 2001 but a 2002 brewing awards reference on the back label, meaning we have no idea when its actually from. Suffice to say however, what we do know is that this is one from a batch of Harvey's Imperial Stout that were sold at the shop, 6 of which me and Dave bought between us based on the ultimate excellence of previous vintages. Every one so far has been flat, with no life or work from the yeast, and sour, tasting of yeast and molasses only. Suffice to say they have been poured down the sink.

And, quelle surprise, this one was also a container of foul flavours. If you fought through the grim sour yeast and nasty bullying molasses you could detect a hint of how the beer should, have tasted, but it was too small a reward for such hard work.

What's incredibly frustrating is, I wrote to Miles Jenner at the brewery in 2008 after bottle number 3 came out crap and he confirmed that there was an identified problem with the yeast, that it hadn't worked or started or done something, and the beer had therefore not developed or indeed, remained drinkable. Which is great, but even considering that he took my address and promised to send me two of the new batch of bottles (now out, as per Boak and Bailey at : Harveys Imperial Russian Stout new crown capped brew ) no recall of the known duff beer was mooted, no replacements were sent to me, and all the customers who bought bottles from ARBS will have opened them at any stage after purchase and found them crap, with Dave and myself's rigorous and passionate endorsements ringing in the ears no doubt.

A hugely disappointing show from Harvey's, and one which affords them no credit at all.

Our next offering was thankfully very nice, and it was a dark beer - it was the excellent Teleporter from Summer Wine Brewery that I have reviewed before. Have a look at the tags list down the side to find my sober review of this ale!

The paper wrapped Chiltern Anniversary Ale was next up and  was a trifle disappointing. Much had been said at the brewery shop about the might of its taste and how it was a true celebration ale, in honour of the brewery's anniversary. Except, when we poured it out and drank it down it lacked much oomph. It was a pleasant palatable pale beer. Like an IPA. There is nothing wrong with that, except that their Beechwood on draught and the 300's Old Ale we had last time are eminently better beers.

Next we had our final Honley Heaven, the Summer Wine Brewery Cohort, described as a Double Black Belgian Rye PA. This was not a beer fearful of hops and had sacks of the buggers in it, making it a very astringent bitter beast. My only gripe however was the very ascorbic dryness presented, which was not mellowed by other ingredients, which is a facet I have noticed in a few SWB bottled beers. I concede I may have made a dumb schoolboy error in thinking it was a dark beer exhibiting all the warming characteristics of a traditional burnt roast flavoured porter or stout - when its clearly another take on the Black IPA. That said though, I don't think I was in the mood for another hop demon and this may well have tainted my review. It was like the initial taste of Brewdog Physics, but followed by their Punk IPA. That is not a good combination, however clever it may be, or however impressive the hopping may seem. I think I need an SWB night to sort this out!

The End of all beers?

Our penultimate tipple was the eagerly anticipated Durham White Stout. As per much sales blurb and innovative media coverage it has been made clear that this is an old style of ale - in that, any strong flavoured and high alcohol beer used to be called stout, irrespective of the colour or nature of treatment of the malts used. I intend to post a full review of this beer in the coming weeks so will say only that it packed in a lot of hop flavour, and was replete with oily resonances from hop resins.

Finally, as the night and to some extent cogent thought and consciousness ebbed away, we had our final beer, Nogne Porter from deepest Norway. Their porter, a product which attracts an authentic Norwegian take on alcohol pricing, is labelled as an English style porter. It certainly ticked all the boxes, and was, even if you may wish to discount my appreciation based on the tumult of ale and alcohol that forwent this sampling, one of the most enjoyable beers of the night. It was a North European take on the glorious UK/Baltic dark beers of the past, but not as strong, and was as rich, rewarding, unctuous, creamy malty and vinous as I had hoped. For more information about this beer see : Nogne with that "o" I can't do, blog. .

At this stage young Andrew had gone home and I was ready for a long sleep so it was the end of beer tasting that day. I would certainly go back and try some more of the SWB bottles and a couple of Nogne's, plus a Durham White Stout as implied above. In the meantime, I can recommend you get to the ARBS and take a look yourself. There are huge numbers of UK and European bottles to choose from, plus very reasonably priced real ale on draught to take away.

And if you want something special, even though the Nogne - O, Moor, the Brampton Bock and some of the new French beers are sold at a premium price as a result of the idiot-hate-fest of HSBD, you should still ask Dave about the product and you'll find that there are always treats to be had. This is a completely independent praise fest driven by a desire to preserve one to one retail I should point out.

So, that's all for now, enjoy your haul of bottled beers from wherever they may emanate, and I will be back on soon with more info on the beautiful drink.

Wee Beefy.

Wee Beefy's beer crawl bites - Dronfield Woodseats and Heeley

Afternoon be alikers

    See below details of a pub crawl by bus using the 43 Sheffield to Chesterfield Service

on Thursday 9th February I used up some of the last of my annual leave to embark on a days drinking in that Dronfield, where, legend has it, whilst most pubs were almost always uniformly disappointing, there are now a few good boozers these days.  It sempt like a good time to venture out to put this theory to the test. With me was Mr M, a doughty alesman with a healthy interest in pubs.

Hallowes be thy name

Of course "a good time to venture out" is a purely personal interpretation. In reality, it was only a good day based on the fact that I had secured leave to do so. It was chuffin freezing on Thursday, and much like when me and Christingpher had ventured out the other weekend, the ne-ersayers were quick to warn me of the meteorological perils ahead. As it turned out, initially the most perilous aspect of the trip was the ball aching trundle through standing traffic on Woodseats en route to pub 1.

Eventually I stepped off the bus across from the Three Tuns, formerly the Hallowes, a pub I had never visited before. I had heard that the new owners Spire had retained or maybe restored some of the original features and there were still one or two subtle nods to its 1930's origins, in addition of course to its mock Tudor frontage. Inside, they had sought to make the pub naturally atmospheric by making it as chuffin freezing as it was outside - an interesting touch. I was briefly warmed however by the sight of 12 handpumps in front of me (2 for Zoider), and decided I wanted to start dark.

The obvious choice was a pint of one of my favourite Spire beers, Dark Side of the Moon, while Mr M had a pint of Barlow Heath Robinson. Having recounted my experience to a few folks who have been, it has been confirmed that the pumps at the Tuns are a bit rubbish, with really very short pulls that make you think the beer is running out. This is a potentially unhelpful feature since the second my Dark SOTM didn't taste exactly as I remembered I convinced myself it was the end of the barrel - but it probably wasn't. Next time I may ask them to take the sparkler off...

Soon we were warming up, and after a quick trip to obviate via the nice looking 1930's style toilet doors (you notice the small details in 1930's pubs I find) I was ready for another half. This turned out to be a quite significant one, since I wanted to try almost all of the rest of the beers on offer.

In the end I narrowed it down to and plumped for the Barlow Ebeneezer Scrooge porter, so had that, along with a half of Intergalactic from Black Iris brewery with its beautifully designed pumpclp. Alas, the extravagance of the writing hid from me its true strength, 6.0%, so I insisted Mr M partake of some as well. This hoppy bitter pale ale was the best of all the beers we tried in the Tuns.

Siding with the Dronny Arms

Next we trudged in the damp sapping cold through sleet to the Dronfield Arms, another first visit for me, and Mr M. Its an odd shaped long establishment not unlike a turn of the century Scottish bar in layout, but with a sleek modern blue and pale wood interior. All the handpumps, I think there were 4 beer and 1 cider, were at the end of the pub, and there was a board listing the ales on offer. Mr M opted for a safe Farmers Blonde and even though I suspected the Dronfield Arms bitter was likely from Thornbridge I opted for the sensibly weak Thwaites Nutty Black, which was £2.10 a pint, and thus £4.60 for the round.

We sat at the end of the pub listening in on a chat about the Three Valleys festival and the pubs of Holmesfield (theres another crawl, maybe in addition to the festival) and admiring the comfy surroundings and light airy space in which to drink or eat. The barman/landlord told us they were opening up the bottom floor.cellar bar room which was to be a restaurant. This fits in with what some people had told me about the former Sidings pub which I think this used to be. A pleasant visit, with a surprisingly tame beer range, but a warm relaxing place to drink.

Swan

Our penultimate Dronfield stop was to have been the older White Swan across the road. Still showing scars of Whitbreadifying in the early nineties I suspect, the maroon sign board mentioning traditional ales and the gold letters of th pub sign told me instantly that Sherwood Inns had clasped their grubby fingers round this venerable old building in the past.

Inside is a really old bar, alas laden with multiple shiny gas filled fonts, but affording space for two handpumps. Mr M lost control of his senses and ploughed straight into a reckless and unwise pint of Bombardier, and me a half of the strangest Adnams Bitter I ever tasted. It wasn't off, but just tasted of malt and fatigue. It didn't even appear to be the right colour. That said, it was still better than the dread horror of trying to enjoy Bombardier, the asinine homogenised beer by numbers which you must have to work really hard at to sell in a condition that would attract compliment.

We sat under a Sky Sports screen grimacing at the interchangeable images of Fabio's blind cobblers thumb and Redknapp's melted landslide faces as reaction to the former's acquittal and Capello's resignation was raked over tediously by "faces" from the world of the beautiful gane. Welcome to the brain poison world of repetition which is Sky Sports. The pub was quiet, but crucially, warm, and very comfortable. There was quite a lot of pub to look at actually and had we had more time I would like to have seen one of the other rooms. Alas we had to press on to our next destination down the main road.

Coach and Horses - now replaced by bus.

We arrived at the coach before 15.00 assuming as any rational person would that being a Thursday not a Friday or weekend they would open restricted hours like 12 til 15.00. Alas, the Coach opens at 17.00 or some random hour so we met neither our thirst or toiletry needs. We skulked around at the bus stop for a while instead, the only brief highlight being that the beer carriage turned up earlier than it said on my up to date timetable.

Chantrey Chuntering.

Fifteen minutes later we were in Woodseats and heading for the Chantrey. The last time I had visited it had been, erm, well at least 1997, and there had been Tetley on, and a club singer who was so "club", that we had to leave half way through from laughing. Now the pub has a slightly more adventurous approach to beer, although I can't say what the entertainment promises.

Mr M once again plumped for Bombardier, which was a trifle better than in the Swan, and I had a very nice pint of Kelham Island Easy Rider in a Kelham branded glass. My only gripe was that the Easy Rider seemed to be lacking hops, but I think this is actually how its meant to taste - like Pale rider with the hops and alcohol reduced. It was in good condition though, so were able to warm up in here, trying to ignore the radio being played over the pub speaker system (always a bad sign), before venturing out once more.

A view of the Sheaf.

We decided to take the opportunity to grab some snap before we headed for the Ale House on Fraser road which was to open at 16.00. We got our supplies then called the pub to make sure we were on track to find it open - unfortunately they were going to open at nearer 17.00 due to a deliveries mix up so we spent a rather long stint cowering in the bus shelter eating our food, although this of course did keep us dry.

Eventually we headed off slowly for the pub and found that Tony's love of Saltaire had continued unabated, with 4 of the 5 cask ales on offer being from that brewery. Not that we were complaining, but I really fancied a stout, and there was none in the range to be found.  Instead we both opted for a pint of the Cascade which was once again on good form.

Conversation soon drifted to the pub quiz. Tony was mortified that the wining score in the last one had been 11. Really, we should have taken this as a hint that it had been really difficult, but bravado got the better of us and we unwisely agreed to be read the questions, have an aimless pop at answering them, before he gave us the actual answer. Estimates of our tremendous score were between 4 and 6 out of 20. I think Tony should simply accept that questions about betting odds and the name of the band the father of an upcoming act was in are just a little too difficult. But what do I know...

Well, that diversion did at least mean that we had another in here, this time I had the fantastic Saltaire Challenger which was a lovey dark strong bitter with a very defined hop character. This went down a treat, although, once again, with snow now starting to fall, we had to move on.

Archer Road Beer Stop.

En route to pub 6 we popped into the ARBS, which regular readers may recognise as Sheffield's premier bottled and draught real ale off license. Davefromtshop was welcoming as always and invited us in for a wee snifter in the back before we gilded ourselves for another chilly wander. There were 3 draught beers on offer and we both opted for the excellent Thorne Pale Ale, which was in good form and had a very pleasant lingering hoppy taste. Alas we could not stop long catching up, not least because I was coming back the day after for a beer tasting.

Broady

Just like the popular England cricketer of the same name the lovable old Broadfield is not without its flaws. Still there is a surfeit of seating, still no cask beer list and on this occasion am not even sure there was a dark beer to tempt me. Both me and Mr M grabbed two stools and a tiny table near the door and had a pint each of the Acorn USA Northern Brewer IPA. This was a nice drop but despite its name was still a slightly astringent bitter rather than a gloriously hoppy IPA, but we didn't let that trouble us. Since we had to change course at this stage to get over to Heeley it became clear that we could stretch to a re run at some point, starting at the Sheaf and taking in the Broady en route to the Union, Cherry Tree, Greystones and Lescar.

The Lion 

Next Mr M unexpectedly showed me a brilliant shortcut over the Sheaf to come out at Heeley almost at our next destination the White Lion. To our surprise the pub was busy (wait, that's not where the surprise emanates) but the snug was free - so we went in there and settled down to a pint and a review of the days events. I had a pint of Jaipur and Mr M sensibly a pint of Abbeydale Daily Bread. It was here we worked out that my up-to-date timetable supplied by Wee Fatha was, in fact, printed in April 2010. Which explained why the 43's had been a little early throughout our visit. This did however afford us enough time to dispatch our beers at a sensible pace, in fact Mr M was awaah before me, having decided he'd had enough and needed the safety of his home.

Tap route

Having also finished my Jaipur I caught the 43 using my cheap all day ticket to get off near the Sheffield Tap for a couple of last halves. There was a noticeable Marble theme again, so I had half of Lagonda 4th IPA (this is based on my "eclectic sloping and wavy writing style that I adopt whilst processing alcohol) and Thornbridge Black Harry. The Tap was mercifully quiet which meant i didn't have to hide away in a back room,. but it was a brief visit on account of my having a pressing need to get home and lie down.

Overall we got to 9 pubs if you count ARBS and tried a number of beers from a diverse range of breweries, all at sensible prices, i.e below £3.00 a pint (apart maybe from the Black Iris, but it wouldn't be overpriced since it was 6.0%). Its a shame that we couldn't get to the Coach and Horses and that we didn't have time for the Sheaf View but all in good time, we can always do this again sometime. A highly recommended pub selection.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy.

Wee Beefy's beer question bites - what's the point of keg?

Good evening
   last night I was at Davefromtshop's with he (for it is) and Andrew, sampling a rather large amount of ale after Davefromtshop's had closed. During our many rambling conversational detours we happened across that old steamer "cask vs keg". I wondered, in light of recent news and trends of micro and/or craft brewers, if keg was an option for all brewers and how that impacted on me as a beer drinker.

Hence ...

Keg beer - what's in it for the brewers?

To understand this, lets look at who brews it and how it benefits them. Ergo, we need to unhelpfully label loads of disparate brewing types together for reasons of journalistic ease.

Lets look first at one imagined amorphous mass of Brewers. Hyowge ones.

Its easy to assume that, having been the brainchild of them in the 30's initially, but then increasingly leading the market for them in the 60's and 70's, its only big brewers that brew keg. Yet as recently as the 90's when insufferable dross like Caffreys Milm-flow was on the march, almost every size of brewer, especially the regionals, put gas in their beer and put their beer in kegs.

In the UK irrespective of lagers, Guinness and Caffreys and most large Scottish brewers beer comes exclusively or almost entirely in keg form. Its a big share of the market so someone must be doing something right. The major brewers rely on keg heavily and also seem to make immense profits from their products. It follows therefore that keg really does pay its way for them.

Meanwhile the more medium, regional brewers keg revolution has been less stratospheric, but has been a noticeable feature in their pubs. Regionals like Thwaites wanted to sell more beer and recognised that some people like their beer smooth and achingly uniform in presentation. They produced smooth versions of some of their quality cask brands. As with keg Pedigree, even good cask beer brands some people will only drink under a gas blanket (is this a euphemism?).

It appears then that regional brewers recognise they need a mix of keg beers and real ales, to appeal to all tastes across their estates. Granted a few regionals have fallen (mainly to the vile spectre of Greedy King) but overall its arguable they are making profits through offering a "complete range" that includes keg. So keg and regional brewers are friends.

 Surely though, highly adventurous, proud, innovative, barrier breaking micro brewers wouldn't entertain the idea? Well, even before developments in keykeg, they already did.

Isle of Mull and Colonsay breweries by necessity did keg or brewery conditioned ales, Colonsay I think from day one, Meantime and Freedom and Mash did keg beers from the start, Moravka unfiltered lager brewed in Taddington was and is a keg product, and there were other small lager producers such as Packhorse in Kent. Nowadays, the micro's keg revolution has become more widespread, so its likely more viable, with big players like Brewdog opening many keg only venues, and Camden, Lovibonds, Thornbridge, Magic Rock and other new breweries having  keg versions of their beers available (and this year Camden look to be keg only).

Keg beer - what's in it for the drinkers?

So everyone is doing it, and its likely that everyone makes money from it. So why doesn't every brewery do keg then?  If it suits the accountant and many of the customers, why waste time and resources on real ale?

Well, aside from the obvious missed market of thirsty real ale drinkers, the two styles are of course different, affording dissimilar benefits. I have tried to illustrate the benefits and downsides below. In my opinion, the  :

Reasons for brewing Keg: are to control quality and consistency, to extend and then predict precise shelf life, to make sure that the beer tastes as the brewer intends everywhere its sold, to market beer for the large majority of people who never drink real ale. Reasons not to: The beer cannot improve once it enters the keg. The beer can still lose condition and quality. Its often cold and fizzy.

Reasons for brewing Cask: are that the beer reaches customers fresh, it is a living thus developing and potentially improving product, it appeals to the burgeoning sector of real ale drinkers, it enables those with cellarmanship skills and brewers with brewing skills to make ordinary beer extraordinary, and extraordinary beer a one off celebration of the brewers art. Reasons not to : the beer can go off more easily, the beer is more susceptible to outside influence i.e temperature or disturbance in transit, the beer will never taste the same in any two venues.

So if you look at the above, the proposition may be - do brewers favour keg to make sure that no matter how good or bad the beer is its always consistent? And therefore, do real ale brewers favour that style to challenge the bland regularity of keg, but in doing so risk producing inconsistent beer?

Well, I think both of those statements are correct, but since the above reasons aren't diametrically opposed and there could be, and indeed is, a cross over of the two sets of brewing ethics, this means the argument for real ale is just as strong as keg. You can follow both routes!

You can use the finest ingredients and brewing expertise to make a premium quality keg beer but not have to worry about consistency, whilst you can also use the technologies of keg production to regularise the production of cask and in doing so achieve quality and consistency. Thus both routes are interchangeable. That way everyone wins.

Basically, each process is benevolent enough that should you, god forbid, choose to ditch cask for keg, you can still take the ethos of cask production and produce that dream beer, that epitome of brewing excellence, and then seal it safe in a tub o' gas.

Which means the only real question is, which one tastes better?

Well, I prefer cask. Although I love Bernard Dark. And I love Brewdog Hardcore IPA in a bottle. And, I like flat Moonshine in a polypin, and draught Bass served by gravity dispense with no head. So really,as a consumer, I have the best of both worlds, and that should be celebrated.

  Wee Beefy

Buy store open pour smell gaze slake write

Hello beermoths

     tonight I have mostly been had a beer. Instead of writing the descriptions down in time honoured style, then copying them onto the blog, I'm going to "free review" whilst at the keyboard...

Brewery : Lancaster, Lancashire
Name : Black
Strength : 4.6%
BCA/none BCA? : None BCA.
Purchased : Asda Handsworth Sheffield.

Pictured below is the beer with the bottle "artistically" out of focus (this was deliberate mind, I was a bit short of space)....

Colour : dark brown, not black, muddy with no other hues immediately visible, with a lacklustre, thin, grey white head which lasts less time than it took to take 7 photo's of the beer (so not very long I confess). When held up to the light half way down the drink it resembles flat Coke. Am already concerned by the brewers choice of a clear bottle...

Carbonation/Pouring : no sound on opening and pours flat, there are bubbles if you look carefully at the "head horizon" where the beer meets what little foam there is, but considering I opened this warm, you'd have to give it a good shake and a massive gulp to get any carbonation. That said, mini bubbles do fizz shortly after each mouthful. A delayed reaction sparkle.

Aroma : I am in the very last throes of a cold. So whilst I am satisfied that this does not impede my flavour receptors, and I have experienced some truly incredible smells of late, I am going to benevolently assume that the aroma is hidden by nasal bacteria.

Taste : Initially a strange sweet burst of malt, perhaps in three stages, biscuity, then sweet and then a mixture, receding in the mouth as the beer goes down to leave a dry slightly sharp bitterness. Even half way through the drink the more unco-operative bitter flavours seem to predominate, and eventually the malt and sweetness is reduced to a sharp kick at the beginning. See the pic below to get an idea of just how flat this beer pours, despite being kept in perfect conditions, and not being bottle conditioned, so susceptible to yeast malfunction.

Even as the beer warms, the maltiness remains subdued, but whilst you may expect that to propel the bitterness into the forefront of the flavour, its alas not a nice punchy bitterness. It is roasted, and that is exactly what you would expect in a dark beer, but also, now that I can identify roast malt as part of the balance, there's a weird aspirin and salt hint to the bitterness.

At the deathroes of the drink the beer begins to remind me of a can of Mitchells bitter drunk warm at the end of a party, as used to happen, even in Easterly Sheffield, in the early nineties. Am afraid I have failed spectacularly to get on with the roasted bitterness and the short lived harsh sweetness in the initial taste.

Head retention - well, for the last 3rd, none at all. The thin residue that subtly graced the surface at the beginning gamely hangs on for about 2 thirds but its so thin and so anchored to the very edge that its not really appreciably a head at all.


WBrating : 4.5.
Alas am not smitten with this dark stranger. It only scrapes this score for being more palatable than their dreadful malty Red that I tried once, but never again. I can't understand why there is no malt balance, and why the bitter tones are so dry and one dimensional, or what that wearying aftertaste is. It was the only one left on the shelf when I bought it - perhaps its time to go back to Hambleton Nightmare and Little Valley Hebden Wheat...

More news soon - am out with Dave Barra Harri Thurs and have abeer tasting at Davefromtshop's Friday so expect some facts, half remembered mumbles, pics and attempts at journalism over the weekend.

Wee Beefy

Wee Beefy's Beer Bites - pubs die why exactly?

Good evening readers, and now news of demise and why demise...

    Timeline to Dissatisfaction - when did we fall out of love with the pub?

Not a reference to this blog, but a topic that came up earlier tonight. I was enjoying the redoubtable delights of bar Fatha's in furthest Westfield and and along with Wee Keefy we were doing our usual analysis of world events, whilst drinking a small amount of beer (this is not sarcasm by the way).

There was Robinsons Unicorn, which in a bottle loses some of the rather icky branding of the pump clips and may well be stronger at something akin to 4.3% - very nice too by the way.

There was also the "Morrison's Own" beer, erm, brewed by Titanic, which this time was their quirky chocolate vanilla porter, which had strong flavours of both, but the chocolate was a bit too central, i.e. it wasn't an initial burst (that was vanilla) and it didn't linger long (that was also the vanilla) Perhaps a good time for me to give chocolate stout a break for a while methinks. We also had some very palatable White Horse Brewery Rudolph's nobody cares (no beer should have Rudolph in it, thematically, or literally), which was a very nice drop despite its cartoon logo and nobbish name.

Anyhoo the main crux of the matter is an idea Wee Keefy related based on a discussion he'd had at work. Many people have a fairly strong idea about why pubs have been closing so much recently, and the antecedence of these factors means highlighting them then attributes a specific time to the event.

Broadly, I think people agree its down to the smoking ban, cheap supermarket alcohol, reductions in drink driving limits, relaxed beer import laws and a general lack of personal disposable income. In which case, this mounting storm of cataclysmic forces has been generated mainly in the last 6 or 7 years. I don't think you can disagree with any of the above, but I think I might also suggest changing attitudes to drinking and eating (which pubs on the whole have found very difficult to keep up with), real or perceived threats of trouble in many pubs, and the fact that the pub drinking public has become much more diverse, and that in trying to embody the differences therein, changes in pub style and direction have alienated many.

Assuming we have this sewn up then, what abut the idea that the decline actually started in November 1999?

The Millennium, as you may recall, was the epitome of anti climax. It was overpriced, oversubscribed, over long in build up and over in, well a second (although, strictly the millennium is in fact the whole thousand years, so it isn't over yet, but you get the idea). The thing is, in order to maximise their involvement in this frenzy pubs went a little bit stratospheric.

Huge numbers of pubs became venues and nightspots for the night. Pubs that you may have been going in for 20 years or more including every New Years eve, suddenly wanted you to pay to get in. They wanted you to have a ticket, in some absurd cases to adhere to a dress code, or you had to purchase a triple priced meal into the bargain. If you found a bar asking only a small fee and putting on entertainment you needed to be one of a lucky few to get tickets, and anyone washed up in a none paying venue was inevitably left to fish around in the their least favourite haunt for a decent beer and someone they knew who hadn't secured tickets elsewhere.

People rightly got wise to this and gave such places the cold shoulder. They planned in advance and bought booze and snacks from Supermarkets at heavily discounted prices, then stayed in on the big night watching the best fireworks man could buy, albeit on the telly, listening to the music they wanted, and, although this would not have played on their minds at the time, smoking to their hearts content. And they never forgot that night.

Meanwhile, party poppers fell in overpriced drinks, brawls and karaoke broke out (am not quite sure if one is worse than the other), taxis charged 4 times the going rate, many bars shut earlier than advertised and overall even those that got in the good places probably thought it was good for the event, rather than for the money. Below is an illustrative device depicting myself and Christingpher a trifle drunk in not exactly 2000. That's what the Millennium eve looked like to a lot of people though....

So the pubs shot themselves in the foot. They tried to price people out of a decent night out and fleeced the ones who paid over the odds to go in them. People found more enjoyable and affordable alternatives, and then over the next few years when prices started to rise, the smoking ban was introduced, the drink drive limit reduced further, and supermarket booze got even cheaper, they no longer trusted the pubs, and many probably felt they no longer deserved their loyalty. So more and more people started to make alternative arrangements for more and more occasions, and soon for everyday nights.

What I like about this idea, not that I am necessarily saying its the the best explanation out there, is that it demonstrates a plausible and recuontable time line of pub dissatisfaction. And at the very start of that decline is greedy pubs. Now where can we see this menacing spectre starting to appear more and more these days.... ?

Pub Company News

Earlier the W's also noted that, according to once exemplary beer magazine Beer Matters, (that spirited old hairy man no longer seems to be printed in there, not the same since) the Old Heavygate Inn on Matlock Road at Crookes has been granted permission for conversion into residential use. Time methinks to tell you a smidgen about the Heavygate.

When I was at school, a lass I knew lived at the pub. Her Dad Ron kept the pub for 127 years - or similar. She was the first person I remember telling me about a pub, and although I didn't really recall or indeed properly understand most of what she was describing, I can vividly recall the immense kudos that this address afforded her.

When I needed to learn how to go to the pub and handle my carefully chosen real ale, at the age of, erm, you know, 17 and 3 quarters, I went there. It was possible to go in and drink, even if mild concerns existed about your vintage, as long as you were polite and largely quiet and didn't cause a problem, like drinking 6 pints of bitter and a snakebite and then throwing up on your shoes outside. Which I only did once, for the record. Sorry Cath....

There was also a well deserved reputation for a late drink and a lock in from time to time, marshaled expertly by the staff on the basis of etiquette - yes, you could come in at 10pm and reorder after last orders, but no, you couldn't waltz in off the 52 at 25 to midnight and try the same.

There was one long, more modern room on the right as you entered in the centre of the pub, but that would have been the right hand corner of the original very old building. Though this was a recent addition, with fixed seating and a big window at one end where the jukebox was, it was still full of regulars of all ages, and a doughty cabninet behind the bar selling traditional spirits miniatures like Sheepdip Whisky, which I don't think I have ever tried, but which made me think it must be a connoisseurs drop...

There was Kimberley Best and Kimberley Classic on handpump as well as the usual suspects for lager and cider, all served in seemingly ginormous oversize glasses. Up the steps on the left was a much older and more traditional Lounge, where the more venerable characters sat, which also had a jukebox, curiously I seem to think it was different, but I may have imagined this. For untold years, the CAMRA Good Beer Guide listed the pub, with the now legendary unchanging line "the lounge features potted plants", a description so scathingly innocuous as to make youi think you may have walked into a building that was otherwise almost entirely white and bereft of decoration or ephemera.

Pubmageddon

All good things come to an end of course and Ron packed it in many years ago, a succession of managers followed, and I have to say I probably didn't visit at this time. I did however start taking an interest during my "Walkley Renaissance" period in February and March last year, when it briefly reopened, allowing me two visits and Davefromtshop 1 visit before it creaked to an undignified end again.

Interestingly, I understand that the person running the Dog and Partridge whilst it sinks into certain irretrievable oblivion was offered the dizzying chance to run the Heavygate, as I rather lamely and without detail tried to hint at in one of my least successful rumour mill posts. I wonder then if the pub company responsible for the heinous crime of letting a thriving community pub die on its knees (bearing in mind pubmageddon blandification experts Greedy King will have been involved in shafting the Heavygate at some point) is the same one throwing away the keys to the venerable Dog and Partridge, with its rare multi-roomed interior and fascinating rooms and history?

I bet you a tidy sum it is. Its imaginable that, assuming the permission is not withdrawn, one boardroom of money grabbing execs who have never run a pub in their life will have condemned a 16th century former toll house and an amazingly intatct city centre institution to death, for the sake of a quick profit, because through their meddling and outrageous ureasonable demands, no-one could turn round the venue's fortunes in 30 days (insert arbitrary number as required) and meet their exorbitant targets.

What a disaster for Sheffield's pubs that would be. And what a sad reflection on the moral outlook of pub companies in this case that they lacked the imagination and flexibility to save what were two, albeit different, well run profitable businesses.

So what was I saying about greed in the pub business again?

Wee Beefy

Testing testing 123 - Wee Beefy's dark pale jet black light beer conundrum

Good evening again readers

         am afraid the main reason for this post is that I want to know if I can now post again successfully! Formatting really kicked my ass earlier, as our cross Atlantic chums might remark...

However, in order to create a vague semblance of beer relevance, I can report that last week I had several tasty pints, starting with about 4 of  yummy Jaipur in the White Lion at Heeley, whilst on a homework collecting errand for Waaaarf.

I also got to the Sheffield Tap, where I had two delicious pints of Kirkstall Black Band Porter, which is the first beer of theirs I tried back in June, and I absolutely loved it. It didn't disappoint this time, but I followed it with a rather cold and hard to drink Dark Arts from Magic Rock. I really like their beers, but trying this one, that seemed not to work terribly well, made me wonder about the reasons behind fusion and hybrid beers.

Pale Red Porter

For a start, iinitially I thought I'd gone and purchased one of them new fangled Black IPA thingies, but actually that isn't the case. This is clearly a stout, and whilst its admirable that Magic Rock, as they have done so successfully in so many of their beers, are challenging the tired preconceptions of a particular style, they have so very nearly not managed to make a stout at all.

As you will know from the past, when everything was so January, I tried a rather delightful Dark Funeral from Steel City Brewing. It was vociferously hoppy and very dry and astringent, so ticked those boxes, and given that it was also jet black, it likewise ticked all the boxes regarding it being a Black IPA. It was dark and very very hoppy. So what makes this different from Magic Rock Dark Arts?

Well there are a few subtleties, notably in strength, and the tasting notes for Dark Arts allude to some quite complex fruitcake and malty flavours (which when served cold seemed to be washed away by the tide of bitterness), so its clear there are intended to be two different beers here. But there are two definite characteristics that appear inseparable - high bitterness, and very little balancing malt or roast malt flavours.

Citrus Stout?

No doubt Black IPA exists to remove the need for the evils of balancing maltiness or god forbid, sweetness, but there is a strange dichotomy then when we have a beer described as a stout (Magic Rock describe theirs as a "surreal" stout which I agree suggests one should expect some challenging or surprising taste experiences),  that pays so much attention to and promotes the flavours of bitter high alpha hops. What is the point in adding strong citrus hops to a stout, or likewise dark roasted malt to an IPA? Arguably you could instead concentrate as much effort into producing one IPA, one stout and another high hopped pale ale and make them all excellent examples of their art.

The proof of the pudding's in the taste of course - and to demonstrate how that works, in the end I poured half the Dark Arts into the warm Kirkstall porter glass on a vaguely equal ratio and got the best beer of the week!  .

Wee Beefy

Wee Beefy's pub walk bites - Birchover to Matlock all over again.

Afternoon,

      here are the details of my Birchover to Matlock Bath walk - snow reprise. Please accept my apologies for odd layout and potential funny formatted text - I copied a line from another website (with reference/link included) and it must have been some sort of shitty format which I then contrived to spread throughout my whole post. It has taken me 4 hours to remedy this nonsense. If anyone knows stuff about formats, PLEASE leave me a message!

Niddering

I was well aware this time that it would be chuffing freezing, and snow was predicted for about 18.00 so I was expecting things to get a bit tricky and a bit damp. I prepared by dusting off my huge bright coloured walking jacket and a hat, which it turned out was Chala's - luckily neither of us has a more massive heed than the other. Prior to setting off I had an even more ideal breakfast of Shepherds pie with curried red wine gravy - I assure you it tastes better than it sounds


I was meeting Christingpher who had also wrapped up against the biting chill and was looking forward to  a bit of exercise and real ale. We got to Bakewell on time and headed out through Stanton In Peak via less frost than last time before starting our walk on the road to Stanton Lees. We then walked down into Barn Farm and out onto Clough Lane as before then up the hill to the Miners Standard in Winster.

14 Pints of Lead

Not our beer order but the rough equivalent of the amount of lead ore placed in the dish that was used to measure the miners standard. Here we were grateful for the roaring fire and some sensibly priced well kept real ale, I hadn't really fancied a Greedy King beer to start with but even the usually disappointing elsewhere brew that purported to be Ruddles County was on good form here, a tribute to the Cellarmanship at this pub, and sold at only £2.50 a pint.

Crucially I also found time to photograph the initials and date above the door. The letters EP, EP, FP have two meanings it seems. According to John Merrill in his Winster Walks article (website Winster Historical Walk) the meaning is thus : " EP, EP, FP stand for the names Edith Ella and Frank Prince. In recent times the initials have come to mean - Every person entering pays for a pint."

On the Geolocation website (Geolocation - Miners Standard the family name has changed to Parker, but the adage appears to be the same. The only mystery then, is where I came up with it being the first letters of the words of a line from a lead miners song. A shame, since me and Christingpher spent a goodly amount of time attributing a meaning to the capitals, along the lines of Every Piece, Every Pig For Prosperity. ( a pig is a measurement of lead, lest you should be confused...)



Bonsall Moor and the early flakes

After stopping to admire the weather beaten pub sign and the lead house (and failing to find a suitable sounding line using the letters EP, EP and FP), we headed along Bonsall Lane and out over the moor heading towards a giant bank of white grey clouds. Remembering that it wasn't going to snow until after 15.00 at the very earliest we were confident this was no threat.

Before embarking across the moor we saw one of those quintessentially gruesome countryside sights that is not exactly charming, certainly bizarre, and not a little surprising. On a gate at the side of the road were tied two strings of dead moles, the string apparently pulled right through them. Close inspection of these thawing sleepy heads revealed they for the most part were still intact, but not why they were there, or how they had ended up being strung up.

I wondered if this was some sort of odd visual warning for mole incomers, or whether it was supposed to announce to passers by that the farmer was so practical and unemotional that if required, he could happily take out out a whole family of cute creatures. Either way it was a puzzling site on a cold windy road, that seemed to have no explanation. So just as we had mangled the lead miners song idea, we eventually came up with the perhaps somewhat kind interpretation, that the moles had simply died of cold in the sudden cold snap and had been hung out by the benevolent farmer as food for the many large birds that I have see swooping around the area. I can't say as am convinced of this altruism though....


Putting swinging mammal corpses to one side we strode out across the moor, only once getting a little lost as I took the first rather than second footpath right of Bonsall Moor Lane. We ended up on a farm track at the end of Able Lane and from there made our way down into the Dale, as sleat and then hard powdery white stuff started to fall. It was nearly 14.00. It wasn't meant to snow yet. Yet all we could see ahead were heavy white grey skies.

Luckily we could repair to the warmth of the Barley Mow, which was rammed, not that this is difficult, and we had pints of Thornbridge Lord Marples for me and Whim Arbor Light for Christingpher - pumpclip on handpump, but drawn from the barrel round the back. To be honest, Christingpher's Whim Arbor Light was the pick of the beers by a stretch: the Marples was OK but not brilliant, and after we had finished these I had a half of the Arbor Light and Christingpher the Doctor Morton's Ancient Grease. The Whim clearly came out on top, being lovely and fresh and hoppy without being overpowering, and its ultimate easy-drinkingness was made all the easier by its low strength. We did dally briefly with the idea of a chip butty, but the food orders were mounting up, so we finished up, said our goodbyes to the Lanlady and set off in the now more significant accumulations of white powder.

 Temple of Jupiter




We struggled up through the town past the white sprinkled cross and the church before setting off up Ember Lane towards Matlock Bath. As we got higher the snow, which is what it actually was by now, increased and in the mellee of avoiding taking the wrong path and in trying not to fall on my arse I led us down the wrong path, as I had done last time.

Joining the main steep path that we needed involved essentially sitting down and hand walking yourself on to the traverse below. Getting down here was even more difficult because it was basically irregular steps and loose stones and twigs, with a rough wall one on side to try and grab. As we came out on Upperwood Road at Matlock Bath, I looked up to the higher buildings to see the road coated in snow, yet as we were inching our way down to the gennel, a Chelsea tractor appeared on the brow. I have to say, I have nothing against a 4X4 if you need and know how to use it, and even to my untrained eye, the calm descent down the thin white road behind us seemed incredibly difficult, and carefully done.


By now Matlock was twinkling white in the grey haze of the gorge and it seemed like the only sensible option was to park ourselves somewhere warm and refreshing. Hence, we headed straight fr the Georgian fronted Temple Hotel. Once there we headed straight for the bar and as Blue Monkey BG Sips was on again it was no contest as to what we;d be having. We pulled up a chair at a table near the fire and settled down to a delicious and refreshing pint and a spot of sketching. I should point out that I only actually draw when I am out with Christingpher - he is in fact a portrait painter and illustrator, so he always has a sketch pad with him and a fine pen, which suits my slightly embryonic scribbling style.


Hence, in comparison to his work my output is very basic and odd, but a nice distraction that, depending on the absurdity of the image created, usually results in lengthy bouts pf laughter. This time, as you will, erm, potentially see further below, by my standards I got the pic about right. That's if you ignore his wonky left leg, and the fact that he seems to have been the recipient of some hardline Islamic justice...

We stopped for another pint in here and then I tried a half of the Thornbridge Sequoia, which wasn't quite how I remembered it but was a nice warming drink as the snow piled up outside. I didn't see much of Chris the bar this time, as he was out clearing snow off the path outside. All too soon we had to re wrap and join him in the cold, to start our descent to the A6.
 
Descent is fairly accurate since it is very steep and was covered in a silky white covering, but we made it to the main road unscathed. Traffic was slow and there was snow settling on much of the road, but we opted to concentrate on food, so got chips before walking up to the nearest bus stop. Here we managed to get a 6.1 into Matlock Station - the plan had been to catch the 17 into Chesterfield and then the train but a quick chat with the driver confirmed that the rather hilly 17 route was, as we half expected, not going to be running.


Station to Station

we managed to get a train to Derby though with no problem, ruined slightly by an abusive idiot who kept insisiting he was headed to Bradford, and then when asked by the conductor to stop swearing simply pretended he hadn't like a child, before getting aggressive again. Nobhead.


In Derby it was not clear how the weather would affect things so we headed straight to the Station for a pint of lovely fantastic Bass. It was quiet, likely due to a combination of weather and Derby playing tomorrow (or not as it turne out), so we had chance to talk to Dave and Dan, a Derby based Arsenal fan who I tried, despite his obvious levels of emotion, to persuade should support a more benevolent and magnanimous club where everyone was nice....

Two pints later and we stepped outside into heavy snow covering the roads and headed for the station where a train was just arriving. We got on OK and arrived back in Sheffield around 21.00. Just time for a last one then in the Sheffield Tap. I had a half of Thorndridge Black Hary and a pint of Marble Chocolate Stout.

The Black Harry was surprisingly sweet, I knew it was 3.9 which is why I thought it would be a nice foil to the meatier Marble chocolate but if anything it was like a weaker version of that beer but with malted milk. Not what I was expecting at all. The Marble was a fulsome, rich tasting chunky beer but again wasn't really what I had hoped for - there was a lttle too much end of a cup of hot chocolate going on, the malt was quite pally wih the chocolate so it was quite one dimensional, and there was not even a hint of bitterness, which might have taken some of the sweet edge off the brew. A rare duff offering form the usually reliable folk at Marble. Below is a pic of some folks drinking their beer in the Tap, for ease of reference.

By this time (around 22.00) all the bus services had been cancelled in light of the 1cm of snow and the fact that the main roads were clear. So thanks a fucking bunch to the slackdabs and panicking meddlers at First South Yorkshire and Stagecoach for leaving their passengers stranded in the City centre for no justifiable reason. If one part of a route is impassable, for instance in my case maybe the descent from Handsworth Top, don't cancel the whole service, continue running it to the nearest drivable point. Instead, I had to catch a tram with the last of my money to Woodburn Road and and walk along the clear bus route that the much lighter cars were easily able to drive along with no impediment.

Aimless and unprofessional bus companies aside, this was a challenging walk given the conditions but once again demonstrated that theer are a good range of real ales to be found in many Peak District pubs, everyone of which we visited was welcoming, friendly, sensibly priced and knowledgeable about keeping good beer.


Cheers!
 
Wee Beefy

Wee Beefy's beer crawl bites

Hello all,

    as threatened yesterday, here are some of the details of my second night out with friends over this last weekend, supping in some decent, and less than decent venues (but all of which sold real ale....)

Tarlequin

This was our agreed meeting place for the evening and it was completely rammed a good 2 thick at the bar as we entered. Our progress to the pub had been retarded by a surfeit of peasant waggons, my injuring my shins on a black bottle box left on our dark street, and a lack of cash machines in working order. These may all have been contributory factors to my lacking patience on an epic scale at the bar.

Once at the front I ordered a half of Paulaner for Chala, and spied an SWB logo on a pump clip. Knowing that I was furthest from it, I asked the barman for a pint of the Summer Wine brewery beer. He did not know which this was, but did not attempt to spin the clips round for a peek. Without time to explain that i can hardly see I simply pointed impatiently at it, but still to no avail, in fact it was only a half remembered half recognised word that enabled me to purchase the beer at all - I thought it was called Diablo, which it was. Jesus wept, what a chuffin rigmarole!

Anyhoo, seated at the bottom end of the pub were John, Steve from the night before, Fluff, and Trudi and Paul. Here we were all at different stages of drink, and chaos reigned early on as those all important rules on leaving and reordering were not in place. Plus, annoyingly, the Diablo was at the end of its life and heading for diabolic.

Unperturbed we went back to the bar, John had a half of Rock or Bock (we weren't sure), and me a pint of Spire Porter, which had a little tang, and wasn't as good as it had been at the Ship.



KAT

We were off across the dual carriageway next to go into the Fat Cat, which being perhaps the second smallest venue on our route was rammed as well. Mind you, that we found this in every venue is surely notice of a burgeoning drinking scene, which can only be applauded.


Out back were Miss Wish, Angela, Mr C and Si, and we were soon joined by Saul and Dan. Here I happened across my favourite and most peoples favourite beer of the night. Finally now able to name the bugger, I had a number of pints of Spire Candleriggs 1909 Porter. This was in excellent condition, and clears up the mystery from earlier posts on the subject of what I had in Tarlequin.

We stayed here for a while in the beer garden, where I enjoyed a fabulous pork pie to be washed down by my excellent beer (didn't try the Black Iris bitter alas) before moving inside and getting our ordering and drinking speeds all wrong - it doesn't matter though, when you are only going round the corner next...

K.I.T

And so it was we reconvened in the Kelham round the corner. Here recollections become a little interpretive, and this I am sure is in no way connected to my having a pint of Gorlovka Stout. And surely, there is no suggestion that I had more than one, even though it was delicious..... To be fair we all ended up on something strong in here, and I know we had at least 2 each, before last orders was called. Below is a helpful picture of the pub, at the time. Sort of.

The beer in here seemed to be appreciated by everybody; it seemed every one of our motley band of cider, real ale, lager and spirits drinkers managed to find something to suit their tastes, which is maybe why the KIT has won so many awards. By this time however, fatigue was setting in and the company had started to unravel. In a last musician on the Titanic scenario, first Fluff, John and Steve headed off home, whilst others went straight to the Washington in a beer carriage, leaving me and Chala, Mr C and Miss Wish to find our own way.

West Street Live

 Music was the main draw, well, for't young uns any roared, as Wee Beefy is a slow moving hairy object, as opposed to a slick dance move machine. Here we were joined by the last of our party Chris, who showed the dancers how to do it whilst I stood awkwardly but not unenjoyingly (is that even a word?) on the sidelines. Beer in here was Wychwood Hobgoblin, which I had a pint of, and, undoubtedly, tasted of beer. I can't confirm that though.

Washington BC (before catatonia)

Our last stop at gone half one was the Wash, which was a seething mass of sweaty thirsty people and music played too loud for the speakers. We didn't care though, at our venerable age me and Chala were just pleased to be somewhere interesting, her with half a Staropramen and me with a pint of yellow cloudy Moonshine which tastes like it only does in the Washington, but somehow alright. We lost track of a few of the clan in here alas, and despite fleeting glimpses of Si, Wish and Dan we were awaah by 2.15 and off for the night bus, the timetable for which helpfully reads "last bus 23.44", which, at the risk of losing some journalistic kudos here, I have to say is just downright fucking stupid.

All in all this was a fab night out with great people and fantastic real ale for the most part, and ironically, this time, despite not being a beer crawl as such, I did have an excellent beer, the Spire 1909 porter in the Fat Cat.

Now for a week without alcohol methinks...

Wee Beefy.

A night out drinking in Sheffield

Good evening again,

  my mate Fluffy, who is called that, and everything, came up from that London over this weekend and on Friday I took him on a pub crawl, based vaguely on the route I took with Barraharri, except we were starting at 19.00 so had much less time to cram em all in. Here are the details I can remember from that night out.

Sheffield Tapped.

as a Friday night meeting place its arguable that the Sheffield Tap is perhaps a little down the list of ideal locations. Its invariably full, to the extent that the welcome addition of two extra rooms now seems far too tame an undertaking when you see a sea of people covering every inch of floor and furniture ahead of you. Below is a grainy picture that singularly fails to depict the above described scenario.

Its also noticeable as you enter from the road, that the panelled room hosts a striking miasma of sweaty fog. A most unfortunate side effect of small crammed spaces filled with alcohol partaking persons. Sigh. Despite this I was spurred on by a parting of the sea of bodies and soon found myself stood at the bar behind someone who had just got served, so I was served pretty quickly. There was a selection of Magic Rock beers on, I really fancied a dark one but the Dark Arts was 6.6% - not an ideal starter for a pub crawl - so I ended up with a pint of the Curious, also Fluff's choice, and my starter when I did the crawl last year.

In here I met up with Fluff, Steve and Natalie. This was to be our band of beer troubadours for the night. We soon worked out that strict rules would have to apply on when people went for their next beer, and that the crawl organisers instruction to leave was final. We called Steve away from the bar to demonstrate the regulations in action, and avoid unnecessary delay, and headed for the Rutland.

Rutland Arms Brown Street

Not unsurprisingly the Rutty was also rammed. It was difficult to get to see what beers were on, and I had to be quite unsubtle in freeing up a bit of bar to stand at. Rule number one - never stand at a packed bar with your back  to it - you are taking up vital space!

In here Steve had some Stowford Press cider (not ready for the hard stuff yet it seemed), Natalie got an amnesia, sorry, unrecorded drink, and me and Fluff had a couple of halves. I had Blue Bee Nectar Pale, he had Revolutions brewery Devolution, and we both had a half of the Steel City Brewing Dark Funeral. Its important to make clear at this point that Natalie isn't a real ale drinker. Its perhaps a bit harsh to make her come out on a real ale pub crawl, but to be fair there was a decent mix of traditional and modern, and she could have said no. Just to clarify that she wasn't kidnapped, since that's what it probably looked like....

Anyhoo, back to the beer. The Nectar was OK but I was glad it wasn't Fluff's first taste of the beer, the Revolutions which is a brewery that usually produces good beer was OK but had a weird aftertaste plonked on the end that didn't work. The Dark Funeral was about as subtle as a depth charge, but this was what we expected and desired. At this point, it became clear that somebody wasn't quite dressed for a walk. So me and Fluff set off on foot for our next pub whilst the others settled down for another drink and a taxi.

Cranes

The Cranes was quite busy and there was some decent music on. There were two Blue Bee beers on but we found out the Bees Knees had finished so both had our second Nectar Pale of the night. It tasted a little better than it does at the Rutland so that was a good coup but we had to make a snap decision. It transpired that Steve and Natalie were not yet in their taxi and confused about where we were. Since we had decided to have halves in some pubs, we decided to direct them to Dada and make this a short visit. We stuck to our half each and stopped in the Cranes only a little while longer, chatting to Rick.

Dada.

Right on cue, London living Sheffielder Fluff asked me as soon as I told him where we were going why it wasn't called Dee-dah, and I have to confess I don't have an answer. Perhaps its only a matter of time before this nickname becomes the real name?

Inside it wasn't too busy when we arrived, and our companions were already sat down drinking so we took a little time to decide on our important choice of beers. Fluff had a half of the Fyne Highlander and the Pub scrawl, me a pint of the same. Alas, the Scrawl had crawled lamely to the end of its life and we replaced it with the same quantity of Brother Rabbit from Thornbridge.

Brother Rabbit isn't really my first choice Thornbridge beer, I find it a but thin and it seems to play to its strength rather than defying it, so it was a surprise that it was so enjoyable. It probably helped that we had a lower strength beer anyway what with time getting on and many more stops to fit in. I did however via an informative chat with Emily, purchase the Thornbridge Steelmaker, only half, and which to my disappointment was  a lager. Despite its strength, something about this beer made me feel let down; there just wasn't any of the flavour or taste I was expecting. Perhaps as if to embody this imbalance, here again the crawl became disjointed, as me and Fluff struck out alone for the far away treats of the 1854.

The Dear Old Deer

As we had picked up pace and were walking past anyway, and with no contact possible with Steve, we opted to pop in to the Red Deer for a quick half. Alas the recent flurry of guests seemed to have blown over and we were back to a more conservative range, so we had halves of the Moorhouses Blonde Witch. This was in decent form, and probably our only North West beer of the night.

Harrisons

Over the car park and we were entering the subdued lighting, comfy seating, eclectic but usually good music providing ambiance of the 1854. Fluff was on his first visit, and Steve did also catch up with us here as well. Having experienced frothy Deception last night I had my pint without the sparkler, a trespass of logic that flabbergasted and enraged Fluff, who has to suffer traditionally flat beer rather than choose it. He opted for sparkler on, which given that the beer had calmed down was maybe a better bet. Nevertheless it was still a nice pint and a good chance to chill out and catch up for a bit with Barraharri.

University Arms

Our penultimate stop was the Arms, where I had a pint of Dark Star Hophead, Steve a pint of amnesia, and Fluff some Leadmill B52. Someone definitely had a half of the Raw Edge IPA, but to be fair, I have no idea who did, and given the fact that my notes had by now become artistic rather than informative, only a phone call to Fluff will sort this out. Importantly though, the beer was very nice. Unless Fluff didn't like his B52. Which I also can't remember.... no doubt the details of our final stop will be resolutely crystal clear!

Shakespeares

Unsurprisingly, as is always going to be the case if I am in, I had a pint of a pale summer wine brewery beer - but wait, tell me oh magician of words, what exactly was that beer called?

Well, to report my notes literally, it was apparently " SWB Porside". So, using English, it could be Portside, it could be Portico, it could be, well, just about anything beginning with P to be honest. No doubt this will leech some of the credibility from my telling you that it was very enjoyable, but there you go. I know Fluff had a pint of Rudgate Grain of Truth and Steve a pint of the Gwynt Yr Draig Black Dragon cider so it just me who's unclear!

After this the last two survivors left and I went back to Dada, an unwise move since the DJ was on so I couldn't attempt my usual bar leaning chat trick. I abandoned ship and headed for the safety of Harrisons where, as well as having a rather inadvisable glass of wine, I ended up getting a lift home from Johanna - I think she must have realised I was going to fall asleep on the night bus that I kept repeating my intention to catch. Am very grateful for my safe return.

So, all in all, a very enjoyable wander with some OK beer but alas very little truly excellent beer, in fact I may be so bold as to suggest that the first pint was the best.

Luckily that whetted our appetites for doing something similar all over again on Saturday, the details of which I will impart tomorrow.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy.