Halcyon days.
Warm summers, strong sunshine, autumn leaves, cold white frost an inch thick on frozen surfaces, huge downpours onto moist Spring ground, lovely rare steak and venison, lamb casserole, beautiful red wine. The feeling that its Friday morning when in fact its Saturday and you can close your heavy eyes and get back to sleep. All things that can easily, for me at least, be associated with Halcyon. No longer, alas, with the Thornbridge beer of the same name.
I used to love Halcyon. It was, frankly, a completely terrific beer. Bundles of fruit and citrus hops balanced perfectly in a scrumptious mix to make the ideal fruity pale ale, but with beautiful lingering bitterness in the aftertaste. In 2012 I came back from a week of slightly less inspiring beers in Crete and went to the Bath Hotel for a pint. I wasn't actually enamoured with the selection of real ales and kegs so went for a bottle of Thornbridge Halcyon. I absolutely loved it.
This was the first beer that I loved in cask, on keg, and in a bottle. It was so well balanced, it hit all the right notes in my book for a wonderfully refreshing strong pale ale. Its arrival at any pub was a triumph of delivery over expectation because it was also almost always better than I hoped or imagined it would be.
Three weeks ago, likely more, I was in the Bath Hotel, talking to Chris, or a man with a similar or entirely different name, who is currently running the pub. I have been going to the Bath less often lately but that isn't a reflection of beer quality, more of a different drinking pattern, less often being one feature. I noticed that Halcyon was on keg and was about £4.70 a pint, and ordered it with glee. And then I tasted it.
Um...someone forgot to add the citrus hops and mouthwatering fruit flavours for a start. And the bitterness was there, but was bleak and harsh and a little like paracetamol. I had expected a wonderful taste, and hadn't had some for a while, but this was a terrible re-enactment of a once wonderful beer.
I don't know enough about brewing to figure out what changes have been made to the recipe, or indeed why Thornbridge beer has become so poor - especially given the excellent pale they brewed back in September. I do think that an alleged merry go round of new brewers in quick succession may have destabilised the brewing, but if that is the case the solution is surely simple.... employ a good reliable brewer on a long term rather than short(est) term basis.
I am sure that running pubs makes Thornbridge more money than brewing beer does, so as a business I can forgive them for prioritising one over the other (if they indeed are) but I can't forgive them for ruining one of m,y former favourite beers ever, and making a rubbish version of Halcyon, worse even than the needlessly sweet Belgian version.
What lies ahead in 2017 for Thornbridge? I hope its better beer, simple as.
Yours in regret and disappointment
Wee Beefy
Showing posts with label The spectre of expectation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The spectre of expectation. Show all posts
Saturday, 31 December 2016
Tuesday, 25 March 2014
Puterbust
Hello,
just a short post to point out am alive but my P.C went haywire a fortnight ago or more and I only just got back on the net. So, normal service will resume in April I hope. but I need a proper computer to blog on....
The other info concerns Wee Fatha who nearly a fortnight ago left hospital for some respite care and physio for a month - he is already planning his first trip out when he gets out, to the Royal Cottage pub and the Quiet Woman at Earl Sterndale. His getting better is obviously great news as is the determination shown in getting back to the pub - all details will of course be shared on here.
My only recent ale news is that I went to the Brewdog bar in Sheffield last night with Miss N and yes its quite pricey and has no real ale, however, they do have bottles of Fantome saison, the large ones, at a rather good value £10.00 a bottle. For that reason alone, I suggest you pop your head in and stop for a drink or two. It was a pleasant surprise when we went. More details on that in April as well.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
just a short post to point out am alive but my P.C went haywire a fortnight ago or more and I only just got back on the net. So, normal service will resume in April I hope. but I need a proper computer to blog on....
The other info concerns Wee Fatha who nearly a fortnight ago left hospital for some respite care and physio for a month - he is already planning his first trip out when he gets out, to the Royal Cottage pub and the Quiet Woman at Earl Sterndale. His getting better is obviously great news as is the determination shown in getting back to the pub - all details will of course be shared on here.
My only recent ale news is that I went to the Brewdog bar in Sheffield last night with Miss N and yes its quite pricey and has no real ale, however, they do have bottles of Fantome saison, the large ones, at a rather good value £10.00 a bottle. For that reason alone, I suggest you pop your head in and stop for a drink or two. It was a pleasant surprise when we went. More details on that in April as well.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
Tuesday, 28 January 2014
Drinking what I said I'd drink, and what happened.
Hello,
as reward for her covering my stint at the NGH I decided to treat Miss N, and lets face it, Mi Sen, to a trio of aged or otherwise interesting beers that I had around the house. In the end, we tried 4. The weakest was 8% and all of them came with the weight of expectation upon them. There were contrasts, conundrums and contention. And, as is only right, there was a winner.
The first beer we tried was Durham Brewery Something Blue. This was a 10% bottle conditioned beer brewed to celebrate someone's wedding or something. I had bought it and laboured for a few years under the delusion that keeping it, with its noteworthy provenance, may make it a sought after item in years to come. In the end, after a frank and searching exploration of the merits of such an undertaking, I couldn't be arsed.
The beer had a lovely ruby colour to it and an aroma of marmalade and something vaguely but not unpleasantly woody. Miss N considered the malt predominated, and described it as a great big malt comfort blanket. There was quite a lot of carbonation, and taste wise it had a noticeable bitter aftertaste, some malt flavours that reminded me of a Belgian yeast influence, and an initial sweetness that gave way to quite a dry finish. It said on the label that there were fuggles hops in the brew, and there was something of that pungency that comes to the fore when you drink green hop fuggles beers ,but crucially all these tastes combined perfectly. And it didn't really taste or drink like it was 10%.
Next up was the wild card. The Something Blue had a couple of years on its best before date but our next beer didn't even have one. Nor, indeed, did it have anything so superfluous as a description. Or even an ABV.
Courage 1977 Jubilee Ale was a bit of a gamble to say the least. Beer rarely excels after more than 25 years in the bottle, less so 30 years, but this was asking for trouble, having likely been brewed around the beginning of 1977 in time for the jubilee some months later. Would it even be beer?
In terms of appearance it had a very pleasing silver foil cover over the cap and had purple coronets printed on the foil on the neck, and there was 275ml of it. Taking the top off the bottle there was no carbonation whatsoever - a hardly unforgivable state of affairs, given its age. What there was aroma wise didn't disappoint however. A huge blast of sherry. Sweetness, but crucially no off aromas.
Storage is the key with aged bottled beers. I once bought a 26 year old bottle of Charles and Diana Royal Wedding Ale form Greenwich market and should have paid attention to where it was stored - since all the vendors wares appeared to be locked in a metal container and the bottle itself was standing in a metal drawer. As it was, the beer had plenty of suggestions of what it should have tasted like but predominantly tasted of metal. In this case, bearing in mind I was sacrificing this as I had two bottles, I probably opened the well kept one - because it didn't taste of anything but sherry, malt and, if you tried really hard, hops.
One interesting feature, and I don't know what the proper term is, was that it seemed to have "split". After the strong alcoholic punch of sweet malt and other flavours, there appeared to be water at the end. Almost as if the beer was 90% of the content and the rest of the bottle was water. As we drank more there also appeared to be a caramel flavour which I associate with aged or out of date bottled beers, and once you got past the waft of sherry there was an interesting aroma of leather - again, unlikely to be a positive feature, but interesting nonetheless. Miss N thought its basic flavour characteristics, bottle label design and gentlemen's club mustiness made it seem very much of the age in which it was brewed. Overall though, it was fascinating to try.
Our third beer was to have been the last. We let bias and the gaunt spectre of expectation trick us into thinking we'd need to pour the jubilee ale away and that our saviour would be the Ilkley Brewery Worlds End, an 18 year old whisky barrel aged version of the Mayan Chipotle chocolate porter. All the ingredients were there - Ilkley's pedigree, chilli, chocolate, dark beer and whisky. This had to be the winner. Except it wasn't.
I really enjoyed the Mayan and just as much appreciated the Magic Rock Chipotle Punchline earlier last week. So imagine my disappointment at encountering a lack of fire, and a distinct lack of any balance. Things didn't start that well with an aroma of wood, burnt malt and phenols from the whisky. The first taste was promisingly peaty, earthy as well, and then I expected the chocolate to balance it out and the bite of the chipotle to zip on the tongue with the malt and hop flavours, but that didn't happen. The peat was actually quite harsh and the chocolate non existent, and even after adding the yeast it was still difficult to drink. The aftertaste was almost acrid and the longer the drink went on the more we could smell peat. We had made a crucial error in assuming that this would be the winner before we started. So now we needed another beer.
Its fair to say that the quandary of shall I shan't I regarding keeping bottled beers of strength crops up quite a lot - over the last 18 months the stunning Thornbridge and Brooklyn Alliance bottles I'd kept since 2007 rewarded me richly, suggesting that there were benefits to the aging process. So surely I could dip into another from my collection...
One of the bottles I'd kept had a surprisingly short best before date on given its 10% strength. And having been impressed over the years by their Temptation and since we enjoyed the Something Blue, it seemed like a good idea to drink a bottle of Durham Brewery Decade, brewed to celebrate their 10th anniversary. Presumably before 2006, since that was its best before date. I was going to prove them wrong - it was going to be ace.
Lessons that go unlearned are a matter for some frustration I find and the Decade was no different. Initially the signs were very promising - even though the beer was 8 years out of date the lovely sweet malt aromas that escaped from the bottle suggested a hugely satisfying beer. However, the proof of the matter was in the difference between the aroma and the taste. There wasn't a difference. It tasted exactly as it smelled, and although it smelled inviting, you can't identify all of the complex flavours that go to make up and ultimately balance a beer in the aroma alone.
A reflection of the lack of complexity is the brevity of my notes. My notes are quite concise. "Smells sweet. Tastes very sweet. Strange aftertaste. Reminds me of the sweetness of De Dolle Stille Nacht without the soft Belgian yeast". That was it.
So, what we learned is, being out of date is no reason to write a bottled beer off. Neither is it a reason to hope to enjoy drinking it. Meanwhile, reputations count for nothing, because even the best make mistakes, and sometimes you can't get better than what you started with. So Durham's accomplished Something Blue was the winner.
Now don't get me started on expectation again....
Cheers!
Wee Beefy.
as reward for her covering my stint at the NGH I decided to treat Miss N, and lets face it, Mi Sen, to a trio of aged or otherwise interesting beers that I had around the house. In the end, we tried 4. The weakest was 8% and all of them came with the weight of expectation upon them. There were contrasts, conundrums and contention. And, as is only right, there was a winner.
The first beer we tried was Durham Brewery Something Blue. This was a 10% bottle conditioned beer brewed to celebrate someone's wedding or something. I had bought it and laboured for a few years under the delusion that keeping it, with its noteworthy provenance, may make it a sought after item in years to come. In the end, after a frank and searching exploration of the merits of such an undertaking, I couldn't be arsed.
The beer had a lovely ruby colour to it and an aroma of marmalade and something vaguely but not unpleasantly woody. Miss N considered the malt predominated, and described it as a great big malt comfort blanket. There was quite a lot of carbonation, and taste wise it had a noticeable bitter aftertaste, some malt flavours that reminded me of a Belgian yeast influence, and an initial sweetness that gave way to quite a dry finish. It said on the label that there were fuggles hops in the brew, and there was something of that pungency that comes to the fore when you drink green hop fuggles beers ,but crucially all these tastes combined perfectly. And it didn't really taste or drink like it was 10%.
Next up was the wild card. The Something Blue had a couple of years on its best before date but our next beer didn't even have one. Nor, indeed, did it have anything so superfluous as a description. Or even an ABV.
Courage 1977 Jubilee Ale was a bit of a gamble to say the least. Beer rarely excels after more than 25 years in the bottle, less so 30 years, but this was asking for trouble, having likely been brewed around the beginning of 1977 in time for the jubilee some months later. Would it even be beer?
In terms of appearance it had a very pleasing silver foil cover over the cap and had purple coronets printed on the foil on the neck, and there was 275ml of it. Taking the top off the bottle there was no carbonation whatsoever - a hardly unforgivable state of affairs, given its age. What there was aroma wise didn't disappoint however. A huge blast of sherry. Sweetness, but crucially no off aromas.
Storage is the key with aged bottled beers. I once bought a 26 year old bottle of Charles and Diana Royal Wedding Ale form Greenwich market and should have paid attention to where it was stored - since all the vendors wares appeared to be locked in a metal container and the bottle itself was standing in a metal drawer. As it was, the beer had plenty of suggestions of what it should have tasted like but predominantly tasted of metal. In this case, bearing in mind I was sacrificing this as I had two bottles, I probably opened the well kept one - because it didn't taste of anything but sherry, malt and, if you tried really hard, hops.
One interesting feature, and I don't know what the proper term is, was that it seemed to have "split". After the strong alcoholic punch of sweet malt and other flavours, there appeared to be water at the end. Almost as if the beer was 90% of the content and the rest of the bottle was water. As we drank more there also appeared to be a caramel flavour which I associate with aged or out of date bottled beers, and once you got past the waft of sherry there was an interesting aroma of leather - again, unlikely to be a positive feature, but interesting nonetheless. Miss N thought its basic flavour characteristics, bottle label design and gentlemen's club mustiness made it seem very much of the age in which it was brewed. Overall though, it was fascinating to try.
Our third beer was to have been the last. We let bias and the gaunt spectre of expectation trick us into thinking we'd need to pour the jubilee ale away and that our saviour would be the Ilkley Brewery Worlds End, an 18 year old whisky barrel aged version of the Mayan Chipotle chocolate porter. All the ingredients were there - Ilkley's pedigree, chilli, chocolate, dark beer and whisky. This had to be the winner. Except it wasn't.
I really enjoyed the Mayan and just as much appreciated the Magic Rock Chipotle Punchline earlier last week. So imagine my disappointment at encountering a lack of fire, and a distinct lack of any balance. Things didn't start that well with an aroma of wood, burnt malt and phenols from the whisky. The first taste was promisingly peaty, earthy as well, and then I expected the chocolate to balance it out and the bite of the chipotle to zip on the tongue with the malt and hop flavours, but that didn't happen. The peat was actually quite harsh and the chocolate non existent, and even after adding the yeast it was still difficult to drink. The aftertaste was almost acrid and the longer the drink went on the more we could smell peat. We had made a crucial error in assuming that this would be the winner before we started. So now we needed another beer.
Its fair to say that the quandary of shall I shan't I regarding keeping bottled beers of strength crops up quite a lot - over the last 18 months the stunning Thornbridge and Brooklyn Alliance bottles I'd kept since 2007 rewarded me richly, suggesting that there were benefits to the aging process. So surely I could dip into another from my collection...
One of the bottles I'd kept had a surprisingly short best before date on given its 10% strength. And having been impressed over the years by their Temptation and since we enjoyed the Something Blue, it seemed like a good idea to drink a bottle of Durham Brewery Decade, brewed to celebrate their 10th anniversary. Presumably before 2006, since that was its best before date. I was going to prove them wrong - it was going to be ace.
Lessons that go unlearned are a matter for some frustration I find and the Decade was no different. Initially the signs were very promising - even though the beer was 8 years out of date the lovely sweet malt aromas that escaped from the bottle suggested a hugely satisfying beer. However, the proof of the matter was in the difference between the aroma and the taste. There wasn't a difference. It tasted exactly as it smelled, and although it smelled inviting, you can't identify all of the complex flavours that go to make up and ultimately balance a beer in the aroma alone.
A reflection of the lack of complexity is the brevity of my notes. My notes are quite concise. "Smells sweet. Tastes very sweet. Strange aftertaste. Reminds me of the sweetness of De Dolle Stille Nacht without the soft Belgian yeast". That was it.
So, what we learned is, being out of date is no reason to write a bottled beer off. Neither is it a reason to hope to enjoy drinking it. Meanwhile, reputations count for nothing, because even the best make mistakes, and sometimes you can't get better than what you started with. So Durham's accomplished Something Blue was the winner.
Now don't get me started on expectation again....
Cheers!
Wee Beefy.
Thursday, 19 December 2013
Simian and ape thought procesess in beer rating
Hello,
a few weeks a go me and Davefromtshop had our biannual beer tasting - this time it was at Chez Boeuf, and comprised an odd mixture of aged beers, beers bought in pubs, beers shipped across Europe, beers from Supermarkets and beers form specialist beer shops. This time, to ensure a fair reviewing and reporting process, we recorded everything we said and slurred, about the beers, on video. What follows is the *potentially* choice excerpts form he untranscribable nonsense we uttered, along with salient points about which beers were best...
a few weeks a go me and Davefromtshop had our biannual beer tasting - this time it was at Chez Boeuf, and comprised an odd mixture of aged beers, beers bought in pubs, beers shipped across Europe, beers from Supermarkets and beers form specialist beer shops. This time, to ensure a fair reviewing and reporting process, we recorded everything we said and slurred, about the beers, on video. What follows is the *potentially* choice excerpts form he untranscribable nonsense we uttered, along with salient points about which beers were best...
I described the first four beers, noting that Santorini Yellow Donkey was unfiltered and refreshing. Ilkely Dinner Ale was a hoppy and refreshing low gravity beer which was very very hoppy...Geeves Presidents Ale was very nice actually, pleasingly hoppy, but probably could have done with being a but stronger, and Shepherd Neame Mainbrace IPA was in effect, a bit poor. It didn't really have an aftertaste, and was not really an IPA, whatever an IPA is....
Dave reckoned the Santorini Red Donkey was very fruity and very satisfying. It followed on well form their Yellow Donkey but the IPA crowned the whole set (see later). Tatton Obscure was really interesting with lots of licorice flavours which provably shouldn't have been there but tasted all the better for it. Dave would have liked to try a fresher beer to compare. He also liked the Blue Monkey Marmoset, considering it a valuable addition to their range. Its low gravity emphasised the hop nature of the beer, and it was totally different to anything else they brew. Meanwhile
Shepherd Neame IPA (6%) was a great contrast to the Mainbrace, as there was nice hoppiness, good aroma, and it balances well. Lastly, we both thought Santorini Crazy Donkey was a very interesting beer in a nice way, with prickly hoppiness, and fruitiness to support it. It had good texture, and was really a good classic beer.
Nogne imperial Brown was reviewed by us both at some stage but "somebody" forgot to video almost all of our reviews - I thought it was very strong but smooth with quite intense flavours but Dave felt it didn't go anywhere, dropping away towards the end. Meanwhile Dave reviewed 60 Degrees North lager from the Hebrides a lager that "wasn't necessarily complex but is remarkably clean and does a good job of cleansing the palate but it does stop right dead there. It was a worthy beer however.
On next to the big hitter - Thornbridge and Dark Star Coalition Old Ale, a beer which was no doubt about £10.00 a bottle and which I had been preciously refusing to open for years on account of nobody else I knew owning one. Here are the "highlights" of our increasingly tangential musings on a much anticipated drink:
Beefy: its not that dark...
Dave: lots of carbonation which is always a good sign,
Beefy: ooh God it smells nice! (note, this is a professional beer sommelieres phrase).
Dave: ooh! That's not bad at all.
Beefy: orange as well, in a really really good way, that's good its ever so slightly ascorbic which is brilliant, because its actually quite sweet. There's definitely orange in there.
(I think this is why no-one writes blogs entirely from transcribed reviews. I mean, who is this guy?)
Dave: very floral, quite well balanced, for its strength you'd expect some sort of punch there. It is very mellow and I suppose that's what the brewer would want to achieve with an aged beer. Ooh with a bit of a candy follow through,.
Beefy: its a really accomplished mix of sort of orange and then there's a kind of candy sort of a flavour and also a little dry bitterness but thats not as strong as you would expect.....
Dave: its got good depth, its got a deal of fruit to it, I would have expected a bit more but nevertheless its a good beer,
Beefy: I think that you expect it to be dark for a start, and expecting more kind of dark malt and you think of Harveys old ale from the same county as Dark Star - its more like a Belgian to me
Dave: It probably epitomises the expectation versus delivery point. It does seem to have altered a little bit, there are notes there that weren't there before but nevertheless its not the full package.
Beefy : I like it but like you say its not what I was expecting it to be, its expected to be a smooth malty dark beer and its not, but its still good.
And finally, with increasingly ponderous assessments - the conclusions!
Dave: Its between Crazy Donkey and the Nogne Brown
Beefy: its a tie between Red Donkey and Crazy donkey and Marmoset.
Dave: Marmoset, on a blow for blow account because it delivers much more than you expect....
Beefy: Crazy Donkey has a lot to it, its incredibly impressive but does tail off to the end a little, the Red Donkey I could drink all night basically and Marmoset is just a victory of delivery over expectation; and expectation is the key.
Dave: tonight has been exceptionally good because there are no beers there that are bad but there are some that deliver more than the others and I think given the range that we've tried that is where we will get a winner and.......
Beefy: Marmoset could be the winner....?
Dave: it gets my vote!
Beefy: in which case I go for that; Marmoset beer of the day, donkeys red and silver and Nogne imperial brown and Coalition all brilliant but actually Marmoset is more ballsy, it does more than you expect it to do, it confounds your expectations and therefore, Marmoset is the winner.
For reference, prior to tasting the last two beers here are our top four beers.
Me:
1. Santorini Red Donkey
2. Blue MonkeyMarmoset
3. Ilkley Dinner ale
4. Santorini Crazy Donkey
Dave :
1. Santorini Crazy Donkey
Equal 2nd: Shepherd Neame IPA/Blue Monkey Marmoset
Equal 3rd: Red donkey/Tatton Obscure
4. Santorini Yellow Donkey
I'm not sure whet this tells us, apart from suggesting that the limbic brain which is possibly more prevalent in simian and ape thought processes (I'm making this up by the way but it sound convincing...) helps us to identify beers named after monkeys as the best...?
Or, alternatively, it might not....
Wee Beefy
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Room with a phew.
Hello,
last night I got to the new brewery room at the Sheffield Tap (formerly a dining room, situated to the far left as you look from the outside). Having become convinced it was a fairytale or trick to frustrate me, I was relieved to discover that you really could just walk in, sit down, soak up the fab vistas, and, one assumes had I arrived earlier, watch beer being made.
Meanwhile I had two fab beers to keep me company - half a Marble Stout, which was excellent, like almost all Marble beer is, and a Junionaire (most probably not the name, but Sheff Tap FB page deactivated so no idea what is on!) from Thornbridge, brewed by young people. Somewhere. Admittedly this paucity of detail is a reporting failure, but I assure you I was too mesmerised by the grandeur of the brewery room to care.
Interestingly, it was surprising how many people seemed to arrive and then immediately walk out - but then, yer can't ignore the fact that there's nowt as queer as folk.
One slight downside to my visit was the much vaunted arrival of Kissmeyer beer in keg, and a forthcoming meet the brewer event. Not that meeting a fermenty spargey chap is a bad thing, just that the beer from said brewery took the piss in terms of price.
Of course, one could suggest that the fault of the heinous over pricing should lay fairly and squarely with the retailer, but am not so sure. In a pub where people wee themselves at the chance to buy the "latest" and most talked about (dear God, trending?) beer, no matter what the price, you can't blame the Tap for putting on something unusual even if its cost is astronomic. However, I wonder how much of the eye watering cost is profit, especially if the producer is taking the piss?
Lets face it Denmark's craft beer isn't cheap - but the argument for buying Mikkeller is that its renownedly excellent. So it could be a country thing. I realise Carlsberg isn't expensive, but then, the likelihood is, any you buy in the UK is brewed in the UK.
I like to think that Thornbridge and Magic Rock are a great example of brewers setting the bar higher than most of us would like to jump. Recent excellence in a bottle has made me less begrudging of that ethos regarding Thornbridge; likewise the stupendous Bearded Lady and Human Cannonball offerings from Magic Rock have done the same. Thornbridge in particular though seem to trade on an "our beer is simply excellent so you should pay more than the going rate for it" business outlook. So maybe Kissmeyer think they are likewise uber fantastic?
I say they, but the blurb on the Tinternet is all about one guy, Anders Kissmeyer. He could still be incredibly certain of his own brilliance though.....
The final puzzle is that being keg, I don't think there is an expected extra cost that would come with a Keykeg. I don't think continental kegs are single use, yet, I don't know for certain that this was in a conventional continental keg.
For info, the beer was called (I wrote it down as "f*ck that" but sense I may have been having a giraffe), was 7.%, and was £4.40 a half. Making it as, or possibly more, expensive than Magic Rock Bearded Lady - yet being 3.5% weaker, and below the HSB duty limit, and not definitely being in a single use container.
Lastly, Mikkeller and Magic Rock and Thornbridge have a really good reputation. I am willing to be wrong here, but I suspect Kissmeyer doesn't have the same enigma. Perhaps if it did (bearing in mind no tasters were available), I might have been willing to fork out for a half.
Wee Beefy
last night I got to the new brewery room at the Sheffield Tap (formerly a dining room, situated to the far left as you look from the outside). Having become convinced it was a fairytale or trick to frustrate me, I was relieved to discover that you really could just walk in, sit down, soak up the fab vistas, and, one assumes had I arrived earlier, watch beer being made.
Meanwhile I had two fab beers to keep me company - half a Marble Stout, which was excellent, like almost all Marble beer is, and a Junionaire (most probably not the name, but Sheff Tap FB page deactivated so no idea what is on!) from Thornbridge, brewed by young people. Somewhere. Admittedly this paucity of detail is a reporting failure, but I assure you I was too mesmerised by the grandeur of the brewery room to care.
Interestingly, it was surprising how many people seemed to arrive and then immediately walk out - but then, yer can't ignore the fact that there's nowt as queer as folk.
One slight downside to my visit was the much vaunted arrival of Kissmeyer beer in keg, and a forthcoming meet the brewer event. Not that meeting a fermenty spargey chap is a bad thing, just that the beer from said brewery took the piss in terms of price.
Of course, one could suggest that the fault of the heinous over pricing should lay fairly and squarely with the retailer, but am not so sure. In a pub where people wee themselves at the chance to buy the "latest" and most talked about (dear God, trending?) beer, no matter what the price, you can't blame the Tap for putting on something unusual even if its cost is astronomic. However, I wonder how much of the eye watering cost is profit, especially if the producer is taking the piss?
Lets face it Denmark's craft beer isn't cheap - but the argument for buying Mikkeller is that its renownedly excellent. So it could be a country thing. I realise Carlsberg isn't expensive, but then, the likelihood is, any you buy in the UK is brewed in the UK.
I like to think that Thornbridge and Magic Rock are a great example of brewers setting the bar higher than most of us would like to jump. Recent excellence in a bottle has made me less begrudging of that ethos regarding Thornbridge; likewise the stupendous Bearded Lady and Human Cannonball offerings from Magic Rock have done the same. Thornbridge in particular though seem to trade on an "our beer is simply excellent so you should pay more than the going rate for it" business outlook. So maybe Kissmeyer think they are likewise uber fantastic?
I say they, but the blurb on the Tinternet is all about one guy, Anders Kissmeyer. He could still be incredibly certain of his own brilliance though.....
The final puzzle is that being keg, I don't think there is an expected extra cost that would come with a Keykeg. I don't think continental kegs are single use, yet, I don't know for certain that this was in a conventional continental keg.
For info, the beer was called (I wrote it down as "f*ck that" but sense I may have been having a giraffe), was 7.%, and was £4.40 a half. Making it as, or possibly more, expensive than Magic Rock Bearded Lady - yet being 3.5% weaker, and below the HSB duty limit, and not definitely being in a single use container.
Lastly, Mikkeller and Magic Rock and Thornbridge have a really good reputation. I am willing to be wrong here, but I suspect Kissmeyer doesn't have the same enigma. Perhaps if it did (bearing in mind no tasters were available), I might have been willing to fork out for a half.
Wee Beefy
Wednesday, 2 January 2013
Conundrum saisonale
Hello,
in the run up to Christmas I was asking Davefromtshop what delights he had for me to buy. Knowing I was a fan of the style he told me about the Fantome Saison. Apparently it was considered a classic, and had orgasmic and worshipful rave reviews on Ratebeer, which comes as a surprise what with reviewers on there being so shy of scaturient outpourings....
Then came the caveats. I listened carefully. Reviewers had almost unanimously noted it smelled really unpleasant (but tasted nothing like its aroma). Also, it was strong, and heart-stoppingly expensive.
Despite these warnings, I decided to buy a bottle, since I got the feeling it was a bit of a coup for The Archer Road Beer Stop (where I used to work, and whose owner I am a good friend of, just to provide full disclosure!) to stock it. I bought two of this enormous bottle of 8.0% beer, and tonight I'm tasting one.
The first surprise comes from the fact that on opening the cap there's a cork underneath. What is this, radioactive material! How likely is it that the contents will escape? Once I got the cork out, with a satisfying pop, I got to encounter the aroma, or, erm, smell, for myself. Hmmm. Its not foul but its a bit vegetably and tart and reminds me in some ways of compost, or more worryingly, off beer. Luckily the taste is unrelated to the above description. However, the taste is my next screwed up face making puzzle....
I should point out that I'm drinking this as I write. Its almost less hassle than making notes and then typing them up, and also stops me from constantly taking photos. My gut reaction is that I think the taste is the beers most surprising element - and I'm not sure if I think that's a good thing.
One thing's for certain - this is a strong beer and it needs to be chilled. Carbonation and sharp flavours and that lovely Belgian yeast don't need to be served at room temperature. As I have a lovely Orval glass, at least half the bottle is back in the fridge. I suspect that may restrain the flavours slightly so they meld seamlessly together. At the moment I am drinking three beers in one. Its a very confusing experience for my palate.
The first hit is yeast. Its that recognisable sweetish Belgian affair that really should be in a saison. Then there is orange, and bitterness, almost like a Fullers Vintage Ale. Its not terribly easy to drink either, but its 8% and not cold. I don't think its trying to ape the refreshingly light farmhouse style that I seem to lean towards, but equally I'm not sure what its trying to be.
The other element in here is a sweet and sour battle between barley sugar and astringent almost bitter fruit flavours. In one mouthful it goes Corsendonk Pater (note have not had this in years, this is an unreliable taste memory), gueze, Buxton Rye and an aftertaste of orange boiled sweets and the Popperings Hommelbier. To be honest, it could be described as fruit salad sweets, Kriek, Magic Rock High Wire, Marmite and Gulden Draak. That's far less accurate and a bit silly, but it performs the task of bamboozling your expectations and (on drinking), your taste-buds in a similar way. Why won't you make sense unusual saison thing!
I've took the glass out of the freezer now and poured slightly more chilled beer into it, and noted that the list of ingredients includes spices. Not which ones of course, that wouldn't be sufficiently "artisanal", but maybe there could be a clue in there? Other than that, the temperature exercise has achieved nothing. Where Urthel Saisonnaire and Saison Dupont have a refreshing lemony edge, this has a slightly jarring sour bitterness, more like earthy lime than zesty lemon. Its easier to drink now its cold but I'm not getting that must have, super refreshing palate cleansing mouthfeel that my favourite saisons have had.
Despite that, an hour after pouring I'm sort of warming to the ascorbic aftertaste, and liking the sour fruit that goes with it. Its complex, slightly unbalanced and surprising. Much like a lot of people I know and care about.
In conclusion then, I like this beer, but its nothing like what I expected. Its acidic bitterness is odd yet not unpleasant, but its aroma is hardly enticing and its probably not worth the price. If you had never tasted saison before I'm not sure you'd try it again after this - but if you had, I fear like me you'd spend all your time wondering why it wasn't as good as the Urthel for example - or the stupendous Dark Star cask Saison, which was epic.
The answer to the conundrum then? Now I think I know less about saison and more about expectation than I did before. I thought all saisons were meant to be fresh and lemony and delicately sweet and were brewed for farm workers (apologies if I have walked into some obvious beer writers in joke here!). Fantome is none of those things. And I have no confidence in the idea that the previous statement means this is not a proper saison beer either!
Wee Beefy
Friday, 16 November 2012
The 4th Shakespeares Sheffield real ale and cider festival
Hello,
tonight I had been aiming to take it easy. To slip home quietly after work, not having been left to lock up, nipping to the shops for essentials and creating a leisurely meal then spending the remainder of the evening in front of the telly. Then I remembered tonight was Children In Need night. Where good telly went to heaven. The waining careers of peripheral or has been figures resuscitated for schmaltz strewn discomfort, admittedly with a worthy pay off for charitable causes.
Luckily at work someone mentioned my inevitable attendance at the Shakespeares beer festival. Which I had, erm, remembered. In my unused memory. So now I had to fanny about going to the pub after work, seeing people I knew and liked, and partaking in the rigmarole of drinking beer.
Still, it could have been worse - I could have been sat in front of the computer screen, driven senselessly mad by the sh*t combo of Orange snoozeband and Internet Explorer with Blogger, a double act who's flaccid unresponsive death jerk of a typing portal will lead me to actually smash the keyboard to pieces with my fists. I realise Google Chrome maybe better, but that's only one out of three problems solved. But I digress (breathe, calm, breathe....)
Shamelessly poor technology aside I arrived at the Shakespeare to bear witness to a seething throng of punters, some curious, some oblivious, many excited, and some taking it far too damn seriously. Portus was with me, and I bought him a lager and myself a Revolutions Masquerade Black IPA (4.5%, £2.80). This was a dry, ascorbic hoppy beer with an unforgiving bitterness. Just a slight extra facet of balancing flavour would have made it impeccable. As it was, it seemed uncompromising with none of the redeeming features that usually faultless Revolutions beers have, which was a shame. I could admire its bite but not its intent.
Portus had to leave soon after and I went upstairs to find the helpful lass who'd served me downstairs in the bar. Alas the upstairs "festival" bar wasn't officially open at this point; but being a top bar person she offered to pour me a half in a pint glass and let me take the beer downstairs with her to pay. The upstairs bar was to be manned later on, but this was a good example of the usual excellent Shakespeares service.
From said haunt alas the beer was less commendable, that being the Marlpool Straw Gold, 4.2% which I had long wanted to try, not least because I fancied a trip to the Queens Head where the brewery is based. Alas, whilst this may not be a best example, the overriding feature was hazy and sickly sweet honey flavours. Not to my taste at all.
Up next was a dark and pale combo - halves of Red Willow Heartless Chocolate Stout (4.9% £2.80) and a half of the Tryst Hop Trial Nelson Sauvin, 3.9%, at the same price. The Tryst started well but became a bit one dimensional, not a surprising trait for a single hopped beer but a suggestion that the malts used to balance its flavours weren't suitable. It was at least a refreshing drink. The Red Willow meanwhile was even more disappointing. A heavy cloying chocolate free slick of a stout, with a grim burnt edge, perhaps made worse simply because of my expectation? I don't know, but I was very disappointed, and left a bit in the glass.
Thankfully things improved greatly from here on in. A pint of the brilliant Fyne Ales Hurricane Jack Blonde (4.4% £2.80) and a half of the Allendale Winter Dunkel were impeccable, with the Fyne perhaps edging it, if only for a slight smokey sweet aftertaste to the Allendale. Based on staff recommendation, and my own curiosity, I really wanted to finish on the Porter Geist from Raw (5.9% £3.10) but it was getting late and I wanted to get home and get some food - although the pizza sold in the garden (?) smelt and looked fantastic.
Other breweries beers you may wish to seek out for yourself over the weekend include :
Barkston
Cross Bay
College Green
Collingham
Cullercoats
Jolly Sailor
Lincoln Green
Two Bobs
Urban Brewhouse
Not to mention the fantastic LocAle offerings on the bar including, of course, Abbeydale, plus Geeves and Welbeck amongst others.
So, although a fleeting 3 hour visit, (and despite being enraged by the fact the programme lists 3 full beer fests and 1 mini one then above lists this as the third!) this was a great start to the festival for me, and no doubt based on how busy it was, a great second day to proceedings for Shakespeares. And all beers were priced between £2.50 and £3.10 a pint, so very good value.
Get down quick before it runs out!
Wee Beefy.
tonight I had been aiming to take it easy. To slip home quietly after work, not having been left to lock up, nipping to the shops for essentials and creating a leisurely meal then spending the remainder of the evening in front of the telly. Then I remembered tonight was Children In Need night. Where good telly went to heaven. The waining careers of peripheral or has been figures resuscitated for schmaltz strewn discomfort, admittedly with a worthy pay off for charitable causes.
Luckily at work someone mentioned my inevitable attendance at the Shakespeares beer festival. Which I had, erm, remembered. In my unused memory. So now I had to fanny about going to the pub after work, seeing people I knew and liked, and partaking in the rigmarole of drinking beer.
Still, it could have been worse - I could have been sat in front of the computer screen, driven senselessly mad by the sh*t combo of Orange snoozeband and Internet Explorer with Blogger, a double act who's flaccid unresponsive death jerk of a typing portal will lead me to actually smash the keyboard to pieces with my fists. I realise Google Chrome maybe better, but that's only one out of three problems solved. But I digress (breathe, calm, breathe....)
Shamelessly poor technology aside I arrived at the Shakespeare to bear witness to a seething throng of punters, some curious, some oblivious, many excited, and some taking it far too damn seriously. Portus was with me, and I bought him a lager and myself a Revolutions Masquerade Black IPA (4.5%, £2.80). This was a dry, ascorbic hoppy beer with an unforgiving bitterness. Just a slight extra facet of balancing flavour would have made it impeccable. As it was, it seemed uncompromising with none of the redeeming features that usually faultless Revolutions beers have, which was a shame. I could admire its bite but not its intent.
Portus had to leave soon after and I went upstairs to find the helpful lass who'd served me downstairs in the bar. Alas the upstairs "festival" bar wasn't officially open at this point; but being a top bar person she offered to pour me a half in a pint glass and let me take the beer downstairs with her to pay. The upstairs bar was to be manned later on, but this was a good example of the usual excellent Shakespeares service.
From said haunt alas the beer was less commendable, that being the Marlpool Straw Gold, 4.2% which I had long wanted to try, not least because I fancied a trip to the Queens Head where the brewery is based. Alas, whilst this may not be a best example, the overriding feature was hazy and sickly sweet honey flavours. Not to my taste at all.
Up next was a dark and pale combo - halves of Red Willow Heartless Chocolate Stout (4.9% £2.80) and a half of the Tryst Hop Trial Nelson Sauvin, 3.9%, at the same price. The Tryst started well but became a bit one dimensional, not a surprising trait for a single hopped beer but a suggestion that the malts used to balance its flavours weren't suitable. It was at least a refreshing drink. The Red Willow meanwhile was even more disappointing. A heavy cloying chocolate free slick of a stout, with a grim burnt edge, perhaps made worse simply because of my expectation? I don't know, but I was very disappointed, and left a bit in the glass.
Thankfully things improved greatly from here on in. A pint of the brilliant Fyne Ales Hurricane Jack Blonde (4.4% £2.80) and a half of the Allendale Winter Dunkel were impeccable, with the Fyne perhaps edging it, if only for a slight smokey sweet aftertaste to the Allendale. Based on staff recommendation, and my own curiosity, I really wanted to finish on the Porter Geist from Raw (5.9% £3.10) but it was getting late and I wanted to get home and get some food - although the pizza sold in the garden (?) smelt and looked fantastic.
Other breweries beers you may wish to seek out for yourself over the weekend include :
Barkston
Cross Bay
College Green
Collingham
Cullercoats
Jolly Sailor
Lincoln Green
Two Bobs
Urban Brewhouse
Not to mention the fantastic LocAle offerings on the bar including, of course, Abbeydale, plus Geeves and Welbeck amongst others.
So, although a fleeting 3 hour visit, (and despite being enraged by the fact the programme lists 3 full beer fests and 1 mini one then above lists this as the third!) this was a great start to the festival for me, and no doubt based on how busy it was, a great second day to proceedings for Shakespeares. And all beers were priced between £2.50 and £3.10 a pint, so very good value.
Get down quick before it runs out!
Wee Beefy.
Friday, 19 October 2012
Grumbling from the same hymnsheet?
Morning,
I read a post recently on the Beer Compugation blog here about the writer's experiences of drinking with his Uncle in Huddersfield, and how said relative's increasing grumpiness was, from his point of view, representative of him being a CAMRA member.
This provocative look at the CAMRA stereotype attracted a range of unimpressed responses, which is understandable, but rereading it made me smile as it reminded me of my trips out with Wee Fatha, and how he craves disappointment, sometimes actively seeking it out!
A good example of his slightly fatalistic outlook and predilection for dissatisfaction came in Kirby Lonsdale in the Orange Tree, a not particularly good visit that I described in my post here. We were pushed for time and nothing on the menu took his fancy. He moped endlessly about how his beer wouldn't settle and how he'd waited ages for it and it still wasn't a legal measure and how he couldn't afford to spend " a fortune" (£10.00) on a meal, and he didn't like the table we were sat at.
Sensing we'd already boarded the bus to diddums, I suggested we gave up and went elsewhere since we faced a long wait to get our food, and he clearly wasn't happy with the place. You'd have thought he'd have appreciated this chance to seek out a better venue, and to extricate himself from a pall of mardyness, yet, after all he'd mumped about, he said "well, I suppose I could find something on the menu" then sighed wearily and set about glaring at the text and his woefully underfilled 263ml of beer.
Luckily I got my way and we went, but not before he admonished a random bloke in the queue about the lack of a price list which was illegal, and told him how incredibly short his measure had been...
Who would decide to stay somewhere whilst already dissatisfied and then when given the opportunity to move on would still not be happy until they had become apoplectic about issues which would no doubt have seemed even worse had we stayed?!
Its a rhetorical question, but the answer is Wee Fatha of course. Holder of grudges (don't mention the Bhurtpore Inn in Cheshire), nitpicker, "groundhog dismay" resident, offence taker , and indignant exchange instigator par excellence.
I'm going to quickly defend Wee Fatha here though. He doesn't have to drive me to the corners of the UK to visit fantastic pubs and drink amazing beer. He is a mine of information and a natural teller of tales, so is an ideal companion on such escapades. His sheer dogged determination to ensure that he does not enjoy his visit to some pubs for sometimes undetectable reasons, is in fact admirable and fairly amusing in its absurdity.
Against that backdrop then, you'd think that we are ill-matched in the arena of pub exploration. Because there are plenty of differences, obvious and less so, that could and perhaps should mean our expectations of how enjoyable a trip is, or indeed what we expect makes a trip enjoyable, are perilously mismatched. Given time to mull it over I'm not so sure though...
You'd think that the age gap would automatically be the divisive issue when me and Wee Fatha are cooped up together for the day, and, borrowing a theme from the Beer Compugation post, perhaps the fact that he is a long standing CAMRA member and I have not been since last century would provide extra friction.
Add to that my love of (but not devotion to) very hoppy beers and interest in foreign muck and you have the Steptoe and Son of beer hunting. Or do you?
Wee Fatha, as he delights in telling everyone, comes from an era when "every pub sold real ale" and when no-one drank lager and every pub could sell you a scotch egg. He is entitled, at 70, to have a rose tinted view of ye olde innes and hostylries (I think I may have added a couple of centuries to his pub visiting lexicon) but these are the sorts of pubs I crave.
He may baulk at paying over three pound for a drink (excluding whisky, which he positively dares himself to overspend on) and he does make a noise like he's just put his hand in a pan of boiling water if a price seems steep, but I too share this internal fairness calculator; albeit that my reaction is more Anglo Saxon than W.F's.
He also loves to amass grievances once he dislikes a pub. Perhaps we all do, but W.F is a champion at it. He loves the idea that he can claim someone is breaking a rule or law especially in regard to price lists, or half pint surcharges. He revels in quoting and likely inventing "laws" which are actually unwritten rules or examples of good practice from stories, which are usually only ever rolled out when he is already annoyed. Its fair to say though, despite my best intentions, mentioning such failings is a hobby of mine too....
So far from being chalk and cheese or polar opposites, we are in fact the same consumer, divided only by decades, struggling to fit our natural desire to be disproportionately affected by minor things into a scene, place and time in the world of beer where in fact there is much to celebrate.
Which is a prescient observation, since tomorrow (today!) the whole of the male Beefy tribe is off out together to visit two contrasting pubs.
Lets hope a half pint surcharge doesn't ruin the entire evening for us all....
Wee Beefy
I read a post recently on the Beer Compugation blog here about the writer's experiences of drinking with his Uncle in Huddersfield, and how said relative's increasing grumpiness was, from his point of view, representative of him being a CAMRA member.
This provocative look at the CAMRA stereotype attracted a range of unimpressed responses, which is understandable, but rereading it made me smile as it reminded me of my trips out with Wee Fatha, and how he craves disappointment, sometimes actively seeking it out!
A good example of his slightly fatalistic outlook and predilection for dissatisfaction came in Kirby Lonsdale in the Orange Tree, a not particularly good visit that I described in my post here. We were pushed for time and nothing on the menu took his fancy. He moped endlessly about how his beer wouldn't settle and how he'd waited ages for it and it still wasn't a legal measure and how he couldn't afford to spend " a fortune" (£10.00) on a meal, and he didn't like the table we were sat at.
Sensing we'd already boarded the bus to diddums, I suggested we gave up and went elsewhere since we faced a long wait to get our food, and he clearly wasn't happy with the place. You'd have thought he'd have appreciated this chance to seek out a better venue, and to extricate himself from a pall of mardyness, yet, after all he'd mumped about, he said "well, I suppose I could find something on the menu" then sighed wearily and set about glaring at the text and his woefully underfilled 263ml of beer.
Luckily I got my way and we went, but not before he admonished a random bloke in the queue about the lack of a price list which was illegal, and told him how incredibly short his measure had been...
Who would decide to stay somewhere whilst already dissatisfied and then when given the opportunity to move on would still not be happy until they had become apoplectic about issues which would no doubt have seemed even worse had we stayed?!
Its a rhetorical question, but the answer is Wee Fatha of course. Holder of grudges (don't mention the Bhurtpore Inn in Cheshire), nitpicker, "groundhog dismay" resident, offence taker , and indignant exchange instigator par excellence.
I'm going to quickly defend Wee Fatha here though. He doesn't have to drive me to the corners of the UK to visit fantastic pubs and drink amazing beer. He is a mine of information and a natural teller of tales, so is an ideal companion on such escapades. His sheer dogged determination to ensure that he does not enjoy his visit to some pubs for sometimes undetectable reasons, is in fact admirable and fairly amusing in its absurdity.
Against that backdrop then, you'd think that we are ill-matched in the arena of pub exploration. Because there are plenty of differences, obvious and less so, that could and perhaps should mean our expectations of how enjoyable a trip is, or indeed what we expect makes a trip enjoyable, are perilously mismatched. Given time to mull it over I'm not so sure though...
You'd think that the age gap would automatically be the divisive issue when me and Wee Fatha are cooped up together for the day, and, borrowing a theme from the Beer Compugation post, perhaps the fact that he is a long standing CAMRA member and I have not been since last century would provide extra friction.
Add to that my love of (but not devotion to) very hoppy beers and interest in foreign muck and you have the Steptoe and Son of beer hunting. Or do you?
Wee Fatha, as he delights in telling everyone, comes from an era when "every pub sold real ale" and when no-one drank lager and every pub could sell you a scotch egg. He is entitled, at 70, to have a rose tinted view of ye olde innes and hostylries (I think I may have added a couple of centuries to his pub visiting lexicon) but these are the sorts of pubs I crave.
He may baulk at paying over three pound for a drink (excluding whisky, which he positively dares himself to overspend on) and he does make a noise like he's just put his hand in a pan of boiling water if a price seems steep, but I too share this internal fairness calculator; albeit that my reaction is more Anglo Saxon than W.F's.
He also loves to amass grievances once he dislikes a pub. Perhaps we all do, but W.F is a champion at it. He loves the idea that he can claim someone is breaking a rule or law especially in regard to price lists, or half pint surcharges. He revels in quoting and likely inventing "laws" which are actually unwritten rules or examples of good practice from stories, which are usually only ever rolled out when he is already annoyed. Its fair to say though, despite my best intentions, mentioning such failings is a hobby of mine too....
So far from being chalk and cheese or polar opposites, we are in fact the same consumer, divided only by decades, struggling to fit our natural desire to be disproportionately affected by minor things into a scene, place and time in the world of beer where in fact there is much to celebrate.
Which is a prescient observation, since tomorrow (today!) the whole of the male Beefy tribe is off out together to visit two contrasting pubs.
Lets hope a half pint surcharge doesn't ruin the entire evening for us all....
Wee Beefy
Monday, 10 September 2012
Open No Hours
Morning,
I thought I might write a word or 200 about opening hours today. My indignation at standing in front of a closed Coach and Horses in Dronfield is still raw, and, I appear to be failing to "get over it" but there's history here. Not just in terms of inexplicable Coach and Horses closings, but also in my whole drinking and particularly beer travel experiences, over the years.
Here, by way of cathartic naming and shaming and general bad tempered mardiness, is a list of some of the choicest examples :
Cherry Tree, Stoke Row Oxfordshire c1999: before this became a homogenised Brakspear eatery with a bar, (along with the also formerly excellent before it became a restaurant Crooked Billet not far away), the Cherry Tree was in the GBG and described as an unspoilt traditional pub. We were on a whistle stop tour of the area, and rang them two days prior to confirm their opening hours. They closed at 15.00, but as long as we were there by 5 to it was flexible so we'd get served. We arrived at 14.45 to find them locking the door.
King William 4th, Ipsden, Oxfordshire c1999: Also on the above trip I wanted, having somehow found the Black Horse at Checkendon, the challenge of finding this pub which the 2001 GBG states opens 11-14.30 Saturdays. We rang two days in advance to check and arrived at 14.00 to find it closed.
King John Inn Tollard Royal Wiltshire 2004 - used to be in the GBG, advertised conservative but prevalent rural opening hours of 12-15.00 when we were there (as well as on the board on the wall of the pub). We arrived at 14.20 to see a large A frame outside saying "customers wanted". Happy to oblige, we went inside to find the manager with the keys heading off out. When we queried why he was shutting early when we would have wanted to come in for a few pints he said it was because he was going out. Couldn't wait that extra 40 minutes it seemed.
Royal Oak, Ledbury, Herefordshire 1995/6 the brewery tap for the Ledbury Brewery this was quite a large building which sold the Ledbury Brewery Ales and their hard to get beer mats. It was meant to be open (all day if memory serves, but, erm, its yonks ago) and we found it at just gone 13.00 with no signs of life. We noticed that the licensee was milling around and we asked when he opened, which was later that evening, and when we asked if we could come in for a few pints, which would not require him to put the lights on even, he said it "wasn't worth the effort and cost".
Grainstore Brewery Tap, Oakham, Rutland 2007(ish). I admit I didn't believe the GBG when it stated that the pub opened at 10.00 on a Sunday because that's very rare but we had a lot to fit in so arriving at 10.30 this would have been a useful first stop. The lights were on. The staff were in and working. To all intents and purposes the pub was open. But you couldn't go in because they didn't officially open until 11.00. Saving who what, one wonders? Note : I can't find the offending GBG, so it could have been a typo, but GBG 2006, 8,9,10 and 11 have its Sunday opening hours swapping between 11-11 and 12-14.30 in that period.
These are just 5 great examples of the determination of licensees, managers, landlords or tenants to steadfastly shut the doors and not serve pesky customers, with their "cash" and other inconveniences. I'm well aware that there are costs associated with opening the pub (but then, why not keep one room locked and rely on sun/natural light, like the Gate at Troway?) but in my experience the better pubs let you in early if that's the issue or stay open until their advertised hours have passed, or remain open when someones in. Remember, there is no greater persuasion in the mind of the drinker than the spectre of expectation. Fail to sate that thirsty beast, and bad feeling prevails...
The long and the short of it is, I can't spend my money in your pub if the pub is shut, and if I am travelling from afar, or by infrequent public transport, and you are closed, then I will be annoyed and likely not come back.
That's my outlook - but am I being too rigid? Do I just need to get over it?
Or should I just avoid pubs with a Royal or agricultural theme to their name? I don't know, but as you can see from the dates above, I've definitely got over these experiences in the intervening years......
Wee Beefy
I thought I might write a word or 200 about opening hours today. My indignation at standing in front of a closed Coach and Horses in Dronfield is still raw, and, I appear to be failing to "get over it" but there's history here. Not just in terms of inexplicable Coach and Horses closings, but also in my whole drinking and particularly beer travel experiences, over the years.
Here, by way of cathartic naming and shaming and general bad tempered mardiness, is a list of some of the choicest examples :
Cherry Tree, Stoke Row Oxfordshire c1999: before this became a homogenised Brakspear eatery with a bar, (along with the also formerly excellent before it became a restaurant Crooked Billet not far away), the Cherry Tree was in the GBG and described as an unspoilt traditional pub. We were on a whistle stop tour of the area, and rang them two days prior to confirm their opening hours. They closed at 15.00, but as long as we were there by 5 to it was flexible so we'd get served. We arrived at 14.45 to find them locking the door.
King William 4th, Ipsden, Oxfordshire c1999: Also on the above trip I wanted, having somehow found the Black Horse at Checkendon, the challenge of finding this pub which the 2001 GBG states opens 11-14.30 Saturdays. We rang two days in advance to check and arrived at 14.00 to find it closed.
King John Inn Tollard Royal Wiltshire 2004 - used to be in the GBG, advertised conservative but prevalent rural opening hours of 12-15.00 when we were there (as well as on the board on the wall of the pub). We arrived at 14.20 to see a large A frame outside saying "customers wanted". Happy to oblige, we went inside to find the manager with the keys heading off out. When we queried why he was shutting early when we would have wanted to come in for a few pints he said it was because he was going out. Couldn't wait that extra 40 minutes it seemed.
Royal Oak, Ledbury, Herefordshire 1995/6 the brewery tap for the Ledbury Brewery this was quite a large building which sold the Ledbury Brewery Ales and their hard to get beer mats. It was meant to be open (all day if memory serves, but, erm, its yonks ago) and we found it at just gone 13.00 with no signs of life. We noticed that the licensee was milling around and we asked when he opened, which was later that evening, and when we asked if we could come in for a few pints, which would not require him to put the lights on even, he said it "wasn't worth the effort and cost".
Grainstore Brewery Tap, Oakham, Rutland 2007(ish). I admit I didn't believe the GBG when it stated that the pub opened at 10.00 on a Sunday because that's very rare but we had a lot to fit in so arriving at 10.30 this would have been a useful first stop. The lights were on. The staff were in and working. To all intents and purposes the pub was open. But you couldn't go in because they didn't officially open until 11.00. Saving who what, one wonders? Note : I can't find the offending GBG, so it could have been a typo, but GBG 2006, 8,9,10 and 11 have its Sunday opening hours swapping between 11-11 and 12-14.30 in that period.
These are just 5 great examples of the determination of licensees, managers, landlords or tenants to steadfastly shut the doors and not serve pesky customers, with their "cash" and other inconveniences. I'm well aware that there are costs associated with opening the pub (but then, why not keep one room locked and rely on sun/natural light, like the Gate at Troway?) but in my experience the better pubs let you in early if that's the issue or stay open until their advertised hours have passed, or remain open when someones in. Remember, there is no greater persuasion in the mind of the drinker than the spectre of expectation. Fail to sate that thirsty beast, and bad feeling prevails...
The long and the short of it is, I can't spend my money in your pub if the pub is shut, and if I am travelling from afar, or by infrequent public transport, and you are closed, then I will be annoyed and likely not come back.
That's my outlook - but am I being too rigid? Do I just need to get over it?
Or should I just avoid pubs with a Royal or agricultural theme to their name? I don't know, but as you can see from the dates above, I've definitely got over these experiences in the intervening years......
Wee Beefy
Sunday, 12 February 2012
Consistency versus expectation - a self damaging dichotomy
Now then
whilst recently reading up on blogs on tinterweb and on dear old Blogger I noted one from Rob at Robs Beer Quest (see : Its Rob at Robs Beer Quest, and everything ) which contained his musings on why beer he himself had reviewed tasted different, indeed so different, and was rated different, on separate occasions.
Being a brewer he concentrates on many different technical issues, but also, an interesting psychological slant. Which immediately made me think about the brain trick of Expectation.
The Brain trick of expectation...
How often, I wonder, do I say in a post "not how I remembered it" or "not what I was anticipating", or "I was expecting a...(but)". It seems on this basis and the evidence on the RBQ blog that our dear old friend expectation is at work and at large in the beer blogging world.
Because you can't help but expect a beer to taste like it did last time. That, is a normal reaction.
And any number of different factors can come into play that mean that your expectationn isn't met. Ultimately Rob is interested in why he reaches different conclusions on the same product but at different times, and his conclusion is conciliatory, steering one away from worrying about how your brain and tastebuds combine to reach different conclusions at different times. Conversely however, my thinking is concerned with the extent to which what you expect taints your beer assessing experience, based precisely on the riddle of how your brain and tastebuds combine to reach different conclusions at different times..
..
I don't think its just me that expects a particular taste experience or level of pleasure from a certain beer each time I encounter it. I think its a universal facet of drinking experiencing that taste alone is only one of many influences. In fact, I like that expectation trips me up by creating a muddling sensation of seemingly knowing something will be good, but then messing with my mind by using that same illusion to tell me that something which does taste good doesn't!
So does this mean its impossible to be a sentient being and review the same beer twice?
No. Its just means you can't expect to write the same review twice. See. Expectations are at work again folks...
THIS IS MY 100th POST AND IS DEDICATED TO BRUIN.
Not the beer style, but our feline companion of 13 years who looked like a baby bear as a kitten, and was the colour of a Belgian Brown ale, hence his name, and who departed the earth today. This dedication is completely separate from notions of expectation, and entirely in respect of the fact that there will no longer be a faithful consort sat at my side whilst I write these posts.
Wee Beefy.
whilst recently reading up on blogs on tinterweb and on dear old Blogger I noted one from Rob at Robs Beer Quest (see : Its Rob at Robs Beer Quest, and everything ) which contained his musings on why beer he himself had reviewed tasted different, indeed so different, and was rated different, on separate occasions.
Being a brewer he concentrates on many different technical issues, but also, an interesting psychological slant. Which immediately made me think about the brain trick of Expectation.
The Brain trick of expectation...
How often, I wonder, do I say in a post "not how I remembered it" or "not what I was anticipating", or "I was expecting a...(but)". It seems on this basis and the evidence on the RBQ blog that our dear old friend expectation is at work and at large in the beer blogging world.
Because you can't help but expect a beer to taste like it did last time. That, is a normal reaction.
And any number of different factors can come into play that mean that your expectationn isn't met. Ultimately Rob is interested in why he reaches different conclusions on the same product but at different times, and his conclusion is conciliatory, steering one away from worrying about how your brain and tastebuds combine to reach different conclusions at different times. Conversely however, my thinking is concerned with the extent to which what you expect taints your beer assessing experience, based precisely on the riddle of how your brain and tastebuds combine to reach different conclusions at different times..
..
I don't think its just me that expects a particular taste experience or level of pleasure from a certain beer each time I encounter it. I think its a universal facet of drinking experiencing that taste alone is only one of many influences. In fact, I like that expectation trips me up by creating a muddling sensation of seemingly knowing something will be good, but then messing with my mind by using that same illusion to tell me that something which does taste good doesn't!
So does this mean its impossible to be a sentient being and review the same beer twice?
No. Its just means you can't expect to write the same review twice. See. Expectations are at work again folks...
THIS IS MY 100th POST AND IS DEDICATED TO BRUIN.
Not the beer style, but our feline companion of 13 years who looked like a baby bear as a kitten, and was the colour of a Belgian Brown ale, hence his name, and who departed the earth today. This dedication is completely separate from notions of expectation, and entirely in respect of the fact that there will no longer be a faithful consort sat at my side whilst I write these posts.
Wee Beefy.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
New years beers in West Sheffield, Crosspool and nearer home.
Ay up beer monsters,
I have quite a lo to tell you about today so will do two posts in order to make the info more easy to digest. First, here are the details of my trip to West Sheffield yesterday, and some beer news from way back in December which eluded me.
Sportsman, Crosspool
Back in 2011 I was in here to meet up with Bobert, Coops, Big G and Mick amongst others, for a pre Christmas drink. The Sportsman, whilst never having been my hostelry of choice in the area (I used to go in the Bell Hagg in the nineties, and never really felt compelled to drink in the Crosspool Tavern at any time) and its a while since I was last in before this visit - I seem to remember it was early nineties and me and pathos Brian were in to share a half prior to meeting friends. It wasn't resolutely traditional then, but did at least have the now novel feature of separate rooms, as all pubs should.
It was with some dismay that I noticed the homogenised signatures of the Ember Inns chain, indicating to me that i would virtually know the much changed interior already : lots of pale wood, a big dark chunky bar, many dividing walls replaced with boxes of sawn down pine logs, and much soft furnishings. And so it was to be, my Mystic Meg predictions came true, but what I hadn't forseen was the beer range.
On the bar were Tetleys cask (now brewed in Northampton or somewhere ), Leeds Pale, Keltek King, Orkney Dark Island and another offering that I have managed to forget. Both the Leeds and the Orkney were tried, and were found to be in good nick, and not too expensive either - I think the Leeds came in at about £2.60 a pint. Round the corner of the bar, the upcoming brews were advertised by being on the furthest pump clips. This practice is guaranteed to wind me up as it creates a false expectation but at least I was intercepted en route to inspecting the pumps by a member of staff who made it clear they were coming soon (and on closer inspection there were small "flags " atop each pump clip attesting the same).
So, overall this was a surprising and quite pleasant discovery. I thank my lucky stars that i don't have to make a food pub my local, since its atmosphere vacuum means its a transient rather than a long comfortable session venue, but the beer range shows imagination and the pricing is logical and sensible. At least you can be assured of something worth drinking if you end up in the Sportsman.
West of Sheffield wander.
I went up to see Davefromtshop in his native Woodseats and we went on a brief but interesting crawl around some of the pubs that the area had to offer, starting on Fraser Road at the Ale house, previously known as the Sheaf.
The Ale House
Owing to the period between New Years day and the first proper weekend of the new year also being a weird time in terms of pub openings, we approached the pub with trepidation - partly because of its design, a modern possibly 1960's bungalow style estate pub making it seem dark and unopen almost all of the time during the day. Luckily and gratefully we spotted the door open and went inside for a look.
The bar sports 7 handpumps, but two beers had run out over the busy new year period. As Tony the gaffer pointed out, he is a massive fan of Saltaire beers so there were 4 of them, and one other, that being Gorlovka stout from Acorn. I tried the Saltaire Winter Tipple but despite it not being listed sniffed out some unwarranted spice shenanigans, so I went for a pint of the Cacscade, described as the Ale House beer of the year, and fully deserving the accolade. Dave had a half of the winter and the Triple chocolate. All 3 beers were very well kept, and having enjoyed a chat with Tony we decided to stop for an extra half - both of us had the excellent Gorlovka.
If you want to stay up to date with the pub and bands that they may be having on, or sometimes details of upcoming ales, you can find them on Facebook at Ale House Sheffield .
White Lion, Heeley
Next we took a walk down Cawthorne Grove out onto Archer road and down Little London Road to the White Lion at Heeley. This was reassuringly lit up, which was good news, since we had figured we had plenty of time to kill before we could be sure that our final destination was going to be open. A range of about 7 real ales was on, and to our delight, the bar snug was empty so we had chance to sit in there and soak up the atmosphere.
I had a pint of the Thornbridge Sequoia, which am warming to, and Dave the Ossett Silver King. Both were in good form, with the Sequoia perhaps edging it for me. It was also nice to soak up the sense of history in this redoubtable old boozer in the impressively retained original snug, a credit to Tetley that they took enough interest in the pub to retain its original layout (even if the rooms at the back are a recent addition).
The grim spectre of expectation
This visit allowed us chance to discuss and see in actinon the concept of expectation and opinion, in relation to pubs. Expectation, I think, plays a crucial and unavoidable role in your assessment of a pub or its beers. It also of course prevails in other aspects of daily life, which was manifest in the coming discourse, and in an interesting rule I noticed pinned up behind the bar. It advised that persons wearing a hoodie or baseball cap (and assuming not politely offering to remove them) will be asked to leave the premises.
Me and Dave both thought this was a rarely seen edict, and this is what started our discussion over two delicious halves of Thornbridge Jaipur. The rule was not one that either of us disagreed with - but then you have to ask yourself - why is this an issue? Well, because once more, expectations, perhaps here crossing over into prejudice, are at work.
I can only assume that the rule came about because of either perceived behaviour associated with persons wearing such attire, or actual encountered behaviour from the same. I have always found dress codes a contentious issue, but this seems to conveniently open apply when they affect me! I was once denied entry to a Wetherspoons in Ayr because I was wearing walking boots - behind the bouncer were people chucking fag ends and ash onto the floor, swilling from bottles and using a breathtaking array of middle English. Luckily, for the sake of humanity, none of them had stooped so low as to wear boots, thank God!
Curiously here though, I recognised that I like the rule writer had an expectation that a person wearing the above attire may well be one bringing trouble, and that's interesting - I don't own a hoodie or a baseball cap, because I am a mature adult not a 12 year old boy - but here was an expectation that I had, matched by the licensee, which quite blatantly painted a huge group of persons as being unsuitable visitors to the pub. I wondered how many other pubs carried out so specific a dress code,and what the reasons were - does anyone know of any others in Shiny Sheffield?
Our next study of expectations surrounded our final destination, the Broadfield Ale House on Abbeydale Road. I used to visit the pub a lot in the days when it was run by an experienced landlord, under the iron grip of Pub maniacs Sherwood Inns. I remember its faux antique furnishings, expensive beer, and odd layout, but also its excellent jukebox and the helpful bar staff who used to give us tastes of increasingly perilously hot chilli sauces that they kept buying. Meanwhile, I have been to the Old House and the York, and their shared ownership with the Broadfield meant I had a clear expectation of what I would find.
The snug was quickly filled up with drinkers returning from a visit to said pub. One was quick to provide a soundbite "shite" and was quickly backed by his companions who elucidated further. Choice comments included "its not how I remember it", "I had a lager served in a warm glass" and, tellingly "the stout was an OK drink of beer, but it didn't taste of chocolate at all, it was nothing like the description on the sign in front of the pump". This nugget was most interesting because the story changed when repeated to the licensee, to "I had two shit pints of beer", which could have been to appease the person dispensing their pint, but was a notable shift in recollection in just a couple of minutes. Notwithstanding the fact that I noted the complainants listed a Guinness and a Carlsberg in their menu of favourite drinks, it occurred to me that there were at least 3 faults which were likely tthe result of expectations not met.
If the lager is warm, use the magic of speech to convey this, and get it replaced - it only needs a slightly colder glass after all. If you expect a beer to taste of chocolate, firstly, that's a slightly odd flavour to desire, but if it doesn't, then advise a staff member, and maybe enquire if something similar is available (bearing in mind that the detection of flavours in beer is entirely subjective). Finally, if your overall expectation is that nothing will have changed, or if its made up of a series of expectations set in narrow parameters that must be met, take a step back! I myself am regularly guilty of making an assessment based purely on what I had expected not being so, rather than whether something is good in its own right. Its the devil on my shoulder all too often and am starting to realise now that it plays an important role in my and most oher peoples assessments.
Shakespeare Well Road
With our brains tired from our discussion, we left the White. Our penultimate venue was a brisk uphill walk from Ponsfords. Having decided that the Sheaf View would be rammed, and that the Shakespeare was likely worthy of a reassessment since I visited in the summer, we had decided to pop in here for a half. On entering up the steps I noted a cider handpump but no signs of real ale. Nervous disappointment spread across our faces as we contemplated having to sneak back out unnoticed - but I spotted the landlady and asked about the availability of the glorious drink, and the option was Doom Bar from Coors. We sighed and decided to stop for a half.
We sat as always (well, that is only twice) in the room that sticks out opposite the bar and overlooks the sheaf valley, and having secured the football results, enjoyed what was a surprisingly decent drink of Doom Bar. What the cellar person had done, was turn a drab market saturated brown beer and made it interesting. Not wishing to overuse the expectation concept, its worth mentioning our expectations that there would be a couple of real ales on at least, and that the Doom Bar would be crap. Neither were met, and our visit was still an enjoyable one. Time now to try and have them met at the Broadfield....
Broadfield Ale House
We entered through the right hand door which used to take you into the separate and far less salubrious right hand games room, but now it takes you into the left hand side, which, erm, well now isn't, its all one large albeit multi-textured and full of different areas, single room. Earlier in the day Dave had remarked that it was hard to find all the handpumps and this proved accurate, they were in 3 separate sections all round the bar and there was no indication that you needed to seek them out because there was no list of the real ales on sale. This was a flawed approach, but one we had expected!
My obvious beer choice was the Abbeydale Chocs Away stout - the unchocolatey beer maligned in the White. Dave had the equally dark and interestingly more stout like Springhead Leveller which was very nice, and both beers were £2.85, which is on par with other pubs nearby. And the stout? Well, it did taste of chocolate, but chocolate malt, not actual dairy milk. Perhaps the description should have made this clear (I didn't see one) but its subjective like I said. And honestly, who expects beer to taste like chocolate anyway? Beer tastes of beer and its inclusive ingredients, any similarities except in the case of an actual chocolate beer are therefore entirely co-incidental.
We found a seat in the busy pub over to the left of the pub facing the bar with the whisky selection behind - curiously, the visitors we saw earlier had failed to pick up on this incredible and impressive collection, although, with a beer tasting ahead, I neglected to try one. Although a couple of tables were reserved, which is incredibly frustrating if all you want is to sit down and sup a pint, a kind couple, Sadie and Gareth, let us squeeze onto their table, and even shared a taste of their food with us. It was now that I noticed teher was a delectable menu of comforting fare available. Lets face it, any pub with a separate pie and sausage menu is onto a winner..
We enjoyed our friendly company and our beers and despite being a little disappointed with the beer selling approach, its clearly a pub to revisit in the future. Alas, all too soon we had to escape to Handsworth for our tea, which afforded us a last pub expectation experiment on the way home.
White Rose, Handsworth Road
The White Rose, by virtue of being physically nearer to my house than any other licensed building, is therefore my local. However, apart from a brief mid noughties period where we often went in after work for a meal, I almost never go in, because its really not to my taste. A large modern bungalow style new build, but with none of the character attempted and achieved in the Ale House. A pool table, a restaurant, legions of smokers outside, massive noisy TV screens and a bar groaning with mass market dross. Despite this, it did seem to always at least sell one real ale. So we expected to fit in a quick half of whatever was on offer before we arrived at Beefy Towers (note - this is not a euphemism).
Tetley was the only cask on offer, and having been served and paid £2.25 for our 2 halves, we sat down at the table to discuss where we thought the Tetley's was brewed before simultaneously smelling our beers and pulling a face like a man biting into a mouldy sandwich. It was truly foul. Never mind that it was soupy in appearance, I had been in and had a half of soupy Black Sheep last year which was tolerable, but this was rank.
We took it back to someone who may have been the manager. "Your Tetley's off mate" I helpfully advised. Straightaway the man tried to discredit our claim, by saying it had been tapped for 4 days. Erm, what? This had nothing to do with anything since it was clearly rancid. Dave asked him to taste the beer but he insisted a number of times that it was against company policy, in fact I'm not even sure he accepted our invitation to smell it. He was quite happy to get us something else, but having established that there was no other cask on offer, we asked for our money back instead. The question that bothers me here is, how long has that been on sale, with no-one noticing its foul smell when pulling it through, even assuming anyone had bought any at all since it went on? And why had no-one thought to taste it at anytime? Does company policy forbid the cellarman to test if the beer is suitable for consumption, never mind sale?
Overall, the White Rose may well not be the most suitable pub to sell cask. I have heard staff comment in the past that it sells OK "because the older folks drink it" which is always a a nice thing to hear after you have just ordered it, but its clear that those punters are either staying away or switching to smooth. Once again, expectations kill an experience if they are, in this case so profoundly, not met. So best keep punters expectations to a minimum by making it clear that real ale is not available.
More details later of me and Davefromtshop's beer tasting...
Wee Beefy.
I have quite a lo to tell you about today so will do two posts in order to make the info more easy to digest. First, here are the details of my trip to West Sheffield yesterday, and some beer news from way back in December which eluded me.
Sportsman, Crosspool
Back in 2011 I was in here to meet up with Bobert, Coops, Big G and Mick amongst others, for a pre Christmas drink. The Sportsman, whilst never having been my hostelry of choice in the area (I used to go in the Bell Hagg in the nineties, and never really felt compelled to drink in the Crosspool Tavern at any time) and its a while since I was last in before this visit - I seem to remember it was early nineties and me and pathos Brian were in to share a half prior to meeting friends. It wasn't resolutely traditional then, but did at least have the now novel feature of separate rooms, as all pubs should.
It was with some dismay that I noticed the homogenised signatures of the Ember Inns chain, indicating to me that i would virtually know the much changed interior already : lots of pale wood, a big dark chunky bar, many dividing walls replaced with boxes of sawn down pine logs, and much soft furnishings. And so it was to be, my Mystic Meg predictions came true, but what I hadn't forseen was the beer range.
On the bar were Tetleys cask (now brewed in Northampton or somewhere ), Leeds Pale, Keltek King, Orkney Dark Island and another offering that I have managed to forget. Both the Leeds and the Orkney were tried, and were found to be in good nick, and not too expensive either - I think the Leeds came in at about £2.60 a pint. Round the corner of the bar, the upcoming brews were advertised by being on the furthest pump clips. This practice is guaranteed to wind me up as it creates a false expectation but at least I was intercepted en route to inspecting the pumps by a member of staff who made it clear they were coming soon (and on closer inspection there were small "flags " atop each pump clip attesting the same).
So, overall this was a surprising and quite pleasant discovery. I thank my lucky stars that i don't have to make a food pub my local, since its atmosphere vacuum means its a transient rather than a long comfortable session venue, but the beer range shows imagination and the pricing is logical and sensible. At least you can be assured of something worth drinking if you end up in the Sportsman.
West of Sheffield wander.
I went up to see Davefromtshop in his native Woodseats and we went on a brief but interesting crawl around some of the pubs that the area had to offer, starting on Fraser Road at the Ale house, previously known as the Sheaf.
The Ale House
Owing to the period between New Years day and the first proper weekend of the new year also being a weird time in terms of pub openings, we approached the pub with trepidation - partly because of its design, a modern possibly 1960's bungalow style estate pub making it seem dark and unopen almost all of the time during the day. Luckily and gratefully we spotted the door open and went inside for a look.
The bar sports 7 handpumps, but two beers had run out over the busy new year period. As Tony the gaffer pointed out, he is a massive fan of Saltaire beers so there were 4 of them, and one other, that being Gorlovka stout from Acorn. I tried the Saltaire Winter Tipple but despite it not being listed sniffed out some unwarranted spice shenanigans, so I went for a pint of the Cacscade, described as the Ale House beer of the year, and fully deserving the accolade. Dave had a half of the winter and the Triple chocolate. All 3 beers were very well kept, and having enjoyed a chat with Tony we decided to stop for an extra half - both of us had the excellent Gorlovka.
If you want to stay up to date with the pub and bands that they may be having on, or sometimes details of upcoming ales, you can find them on Facebook at Ale House Sheffield .
White Lion, Heeley
Next we took a walk down Cawthorne Grove out onto Archer road and down Little London Road to the White Lion at Heeley. This was reassuringly lit up, which was good news, since we had figured we had plenty of time to kill before we could be sure that our final destination was going to be open. A range of about 7 real ales was on, and to our delight, the bar snug was empty so we had chance to sit in there and soak up the atmosphere.
I had a pint of the Thornbridge Sequoia, which am warming to, and Dave the Ossett Silver King. Both were in good form, with the Sequoia perhaps edging it for me. It was also nice to soak up the sense of history in this redoubtable old boozer in the impressively retained original snug, a credit to Tetley that they took enough interest in the pub to retain its original layout (even if the rooms at the back are a recent addition).
The grim spectre of expectation
This visit allowed us chance to discuss and see in actinon the concept of expectation and opinion, in relation to pubs. Expectation, I think, plays a crucial and unavoidable role in your assessment of a pub or its beers. It also of course prevails in other aspects of daily life, which was manifest in the coming discourse, and in an interesting rule I noticed pinned up behind the bar. It advised that persons wearing a hoodie or baseball cap (and assuming not politely offering to remove them) will be asked to leave the premises.
Me and Dave both thought this was a rarely seen edict, and this is what started our discussion over two delicious halves of Thornbridge Jaipur. The rule was not one that either of us disagreed with - but then you have to ask yourself - why is this an issue? Well, because once more, expectations, perhaps here crossing over into prejudice, are at work.
I can only assume that the rule came about because of either perceived behaviour associated with persons wearing such attire, or actual encountered behaviour from the same. I have always found dress codes a contentious issue, but this seems to conveniently open apply when they affect me! I was once denied entry to a Wetherspoons in Ayr because I was wearing walking boots - behind the bouncer were people chucking fag ends and ash onto the floor, swilling from bottles and using a breathtaking array of middle English. Luckily, for the sake of humanity, none of them had stooped so low as to wear boots, thank God!
Curiously here though, I recognised that I like the rule writer had an expectation that a person wearing the above attire may well be one bringing trouble, and that's interesting - I don't own a hoodie or a baseball cap, because I am a mature adult not a 12 year old boy - but here was an expectation that I had, matched by the licensee, which quite blatantly painted a huge group of persons as being unsuitable visitors to the pub. I wondered how many other pubs carried out so specific a dress code,and what the reasons were - does anyone know of any others in Shiny Sheffield?
Our next study of expectations surrounded our final destination, the Broadfield Ale House on Abbeydale Road. I used to visit the pub a lot in the days when it was run by an experienced landlord, under the iron grip of Pub maniacs Sherwood Inns. I remember its faux antique furnishings, expensive beer, and odd layout, but also its excellent jukebox and the helpful bar staff who used to give us tastes of increasingly perilously hot chilli sauces that they kept buying. Meanwhile, I have been to the Old House and the York, and their shared ownership with the Broadfield meant I had a clear expectation of what I would find.
The snug was quickly filled up with drinkers returning from a visit to said pub. One was quick to provide a soundbite "shite" and was quickly backed by his companions who elucidated further. Choice comments included "its not how I remember it", "I had a lager served in a warm glass" and, tellingly "the stout was an OK drink of beer, but it didn't taste of chocolate at all, it was nothing like the description on the sign in front of the pump". This nugget was most interesting because the story changed when repeated to the licensee, to "I had two shit pints of beer", which could have been to appease the person dispensing their pint, but was a notable shift in recollection in just a couple of minutes. Notwithstanding the fact that I noted the complainants listed a Guinness and a Carlsberg in their menu of favourite drinks, it occurred to me that there were at least 3 faults which were likely tthe result of expectations not met.
If the lager is warm, use the magic of speech to convey this, and get it replaced - it only needs a slightly colder glass after all. If you expect a beer to taste of chocolate, firstly, that's a slightly odd flavour to desire, but if it doesn't, then advise a staff member, and maybe enquire if something similar is available (bearing in mind that the detection of flavours in beer is entirely subjective). Finally, if your overall expectation is that nothing will have changed, or if its made up of a series of expectations set in narrow parameters that must be met, take a step back! I myself am regularly guilty of making an assessment based purely on what I had expected not being so, rather than whether something is good in its own right. Its the devil on my shoulder all too often and am starting to realise now that it plays an important role in my and most oher peoples assessments.
Shakespeare Well Road
With our brains tired from our discussion, we left the White. Our penultimate venue was a brisk uphill walk from Ponsfords. Having decided that the Sheaf View would be rammed, and that the Shakespeare was likely worthy of a reassessment since I visited in the summer, we had decided to pop in here for a half. On entering up the steps I noted a cider handpump but no signs of real ale. Nervous disappointment spread across our faces as we contemplated having to sneak back out unnoticed - but I spotted the landlady and asked about the availability of the glorious drink, and the option was Doom Bar from Coors. We sighed and decided to stop for a half.
We sat as always (well, that is only twice) in the room that sticks out opposite the bar and overlooks the sheaf valley, and having secured the football results, enjoyed what was a surprisingly decent drink of Doom Bar. What the cellar person had done, was turn a drab market saturated brown beer and made it interesting. Not wishing to overuse the expectation concept, its worth mentioning our expectations that there would be a couple of real ales on at least, and that the Doom Bar would be crap. Neither were met, and our visit was still an enjoyable one. Time now to try and have them met at the Broadfield....
Broadfield Ale House
We entered through the right hand door which used to take you into the separate and far less salubrious right hand games room, but now it takes you into the left hand side, which, erm, well now isn't, its all one large albeit multi-textured and full of different areas, single room. Earlier in the day Dave had remarked that it was hard to find all the handpumps and this proved accurate, they were in 3 separate sections all round the bar and there was no indication that you needed to seek them out because there was no list of the real ales on sale. This was a flawed approach, but one we had expected!
My obvious beer choice was the Abbeydale Chocs Away stout - the unchocolatey beer maligned in the White. Dave had the equally dark and interestingly more stout like Springhead Leveller which was very nice, and both beers were £2.85, which is on par with other pubs nearby. And the stout? Well, it did taste of chocolate, but chocolate malt, not actual dairy milk. Perhaps the description should have made this clear (I didn't see one) but its subjective like I said. And honestly, who expects beer to taste like chocolate anyway? Beer tastes of beer and its inclusive ingredients, any similarities except in the case of an actual chocolate beer are therefore entirely co-incidental.
We found a seat in the busy pub over to the left of the pub facing the bar with the whisky selection behind - curiously, the visitors we saw earlier had failed to pick up on this incredible and impressive collection, although, with a beer tasting ahead, I neglected to try one. Although a couple of tables were reserved, which is incredibly frustrating if all you want is to sit down and sup a pint, a kind couple, Sadie and Gareth, let us squeeze onto their table, and even shared a taste of their food with us. It was now that I noticed teher was a delectable menu of comforting fare available. Lets face it, any pub with a separate pie and sausage menu is onto a winner..
We enjoyed our friendly company and our beers and despite being a little disappointed with the beer selling approach, its clearly a pub to revisit in the future. Alas, all too soon we had to escape to Handsworth for our tea, which afforded us a last pub expectation experiment on the way home.
White Rose, Handsworth Road
The White Rose, by virtue of being physically nearer to my house than any other licensed building, is therefore my local. However, apart from a brief mid noughties period where we often went in after work for a meal, I almost never go in, because its really not to my taste. A large modern bungalow style new build, but with none of the character attempted and achieved in the Ale House. A pool table, a restaurant, legions of smokers outside, massive noisy TV screens and a bar groaning with mass market dross. Despite this, it did seem to always at least sell one real ale. So we expected to fit in a quick half of whatever was on offer before we arrived at Beefy Towers (note - this is not a euphemism).
Tetley was the only cask on offer, and having been served and paid £2.25 for our 2 halves, we sat down at the table to discuss where we thought the Tetley's was brewed before simultaneously smelling our beers and pulling a face like a man biting into a mouldy sandwich. It was truly foul. Never mind that it was soupy in appearance, I had been in and had a half of soupy Black Sheep last year which was tolerable, but this was rank.
We took it back to someone who may have been the manager. "Your Tetley's off mate" I helpfully advised. Straightaway the man tried to discredit our claim, by saying it had been tapped for 4 days. Erm, what? This had nothing to do with anything since it was clearly rancid. Dave asked him to taste the beer but he insisted a number of times that it was against company policy, in fact I'm not even sure he accepted our invitation to smell it. He was quite happy to get us something else, but having established that there was no other cask on offer, we asked for our money back instead. The question that bothers me here is, how long has that been on sale, with no-one noticing its foul smell when pulling it through, even assuming anyone had bought any at all since it went on? And why had no-one thought to taste it at anytime? Does company policy forbid the cellarman to test if the beer is suitable for consumption, never mind sale?
Overall, the White Rose may well not be the most suitable pub to sell cask. I have heard staff comment in the past that it sells OK "because the older folks drink it" which is always a a nice thing to hear after you have just ordered it, but its clear that those punters are either staying away or switching to smooth. Once again, expectations kill an experience if they are, in this case so profoundly, not met. So best keep punters expectations to a minimum by making it clear that real ale is not available.
More details later of me and Davefromtshop's beer tasting...
Wee Beefy.
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