Bar well and truly raised

January 27th, 2012

The Bull, Highgate

Ten years ago, with the range of beers they offer today, the Red Lion in Leytonstone or the Bull in Highgate would have been among the best pubs in London. Now, while certainly way better than run-of-the-mill, they merely count as friendly neighbourhood craft beer bars.

That’s right: every neighbourhood in London now seems to have a craft beer bar and many (like the Bull) are also brewing. Everywhere you look, there are enamel signs advertising Orval and glowing neon Brooklyn Brewery logos. These days, you’re never more than a bus ride from a pint of Dark Star or a Camden Helles.

These kinds of places seem (thank God) to be replacing the kind of ‘style bars’ or ersatz ‘gastropubs’ which were everywhere until recently and which had snobbery without the saving grace of exciting beer. They were the kinds of places where you would be charged a fiver for a pint of stale Erdinger wheat beer or four quid for a pint of UK-brewed San Miguel; now, for that money, you get beers that are (arguably) worth the asking price.

There’s more detail on each of these pubs to follow in subsequent posts. Suffice to say we liked them all the more for their localness: drinking in them didn’t feel like a trip to Beerworld, Britain’s newest theme park.

Making the case

January 27th, 2012

Is this nitro-keg stout from a regional family brewer a so-called “craft beer”? What about this notoriously boring cask bitter from another? What about the keg version of this borderline bland but kind-of-OK cask beer?

There is nothing inherently ‘craft’ about one beer or another, and no device you can use to measure a beer’s ‘craftness’. Because it is more subjective than deciding whether a beer is ‘real ale’ or not, it boils down to whether:

(a) there is something like a consensus that a particular beer has craft status (i.e. it ticks all the boxes and leaves little room for argument) or

(b) someone has made the case for it ticking at least some of the boxes.

That might be drinkers (or ‘fans’ as we increasingly frequently call those who boost one brewery or another) or, more often, the brewers themselves. One way the latter can do so is by being transparent about their methods and materials.

Actually, a better question than “Is X craft beer?” is “If Y is craft beer, why isn’t X?”

Ninety nine per cent of the time, though, if you’re asking about a particular beer, you’re being mischievous, and already know the answer.

P.S. Are Eddie and the Hot Rods punk? What about Elvis Costello? What about the reformed Sex Pistols?

Them and us

January 26th, 2012

Broken glass

Two hours in to a busy shift at one of London’s currently trendy specialist beer bars, we see a barman heading into the gents. He’s wearing rubber gloves and carrying a mop because someone has pissed all over the wall and floor.

Fifteen minutes later, he picks up a broken glass from a shelf near us, only just avoiding cutting his hand. His face reddens. “Fucking pigs,” he says under his breath, and you know he means all of us — every one of the tipsy, slightly loud people crowding the bar that night.

Later, when we’re at the bar, he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk to us or anyone else. He is tight-lipped and frowning. In fact, he doesn’t seem to want to be there at all.

Of course it’s never the customer’s problem that the barman is having a bad day but, sometimes, especially in overstuffed London, we do understand where the scowls and aloofness come from.

Some bar staff and managers handle this by Tweeting their fury in real time which can be enlightening and dispiriting in equal measure.

Pic by Paulius Peciura from Flickr Creative Commons.

Ale, Cider, Meat… and hairspray?

January 25th, 2012

The Southampton Arms, NW5, from their website

This weekend, we found ourselves at the Southampton Arms in North London with one of the friends who introduced us to it not long after it opened.

Although it’s more-or-less his local, he actually isn’t remotely interested in beer. In lieu of Becks or Staropramen, he drinks Camden Helles, but under protest.

Nonetheless, he also dutifully tried every hoppy ale that we brought back to the table, screwing up his face in disgust at each one.

His verdict, at the end of the night, was damning. Where we’d detected elderflower, citrus, grape, and so on, he picked up only one thing.

“All these beers… all these weird beers you drink… they just smell of cheap hairspray!”

In a funny way, we know exactly what he means.

Fear of being disappointed

January 19th, 2012

A Cornish object pictured recently.

Lots of new breweries are opening in Cornwall: we know of three that have opened since autumn last year. This is exciting news, especially as at least one of them seems to be intending to fill the gap in the market for stronger and more intensely flavoured beers.

A few years ago, we’d have bent over backwards to get to them as soon as possible but, these days, we’re a bit nervous and a little reluctant.

The really silly thing? One of them has a brewery tap less than five minutes from our house in Penzance. And yet we walk past, we don’t go in. We fancy a pint, we go somewhere else.

Why? Why are we putting it off? Well… we’re afraid their beer might suck, and it’ll be disappointing and awkward.

We don’t worry about this a lot, by the way — just enough to keep “try that new brewery” slipping down our to do list. Next week, though, we’re going to do it. And if we don’t mention this again, it means their beer did suck.

The Premium Sausage Problem

January 18th, 2012
A sausage delivery truck.

Detail from "Sausage truck" by Tuppus (Flickr, Creative Commons)

At some point in the last twenty years, the concept of the ‘premium sausage’ emerged: a banger with fewer additives, better quality meat and stronger flavours.

The problem with premium sausages? They’re sometimes too meaty — they lack a cohesive texture — and just don’t taste like sausages.

Yes, some really cheap sausages are downright nasty, made entirely of salty breadcrumbs dyed pink, but, really, the point of sausages is to make good use of offal and fat. They’re supposed to be full of crappy but delicious meat, fat, flavourings and, yes, breadcrumbs.

How does this relate to beer? After much experimenting, we have to conclude that we can’t taste the difference between whole leaf hops, pellets, extracts and oils, at least not in normal pub-going conditions; refusing to use sugar in beer on purity grounds seems to be missing a trick; and one of our favourite bottled lagers, Svyturys Ekstra Draft, uses rice in its grist, and we’re sure there are others.

Maybe more beers made lovingly but with cheaper ingredients would help to bring the price down? As long as brewers were transparent about it, we wouldn’t mind at all.

Hypothetical pubs — post mortem

January 17th, 2012

Or “To put it another way…”

Our post in which we asked people to choose pubs based purely on keg/cask beer selection generated plenty of comment and — as we’d hoped — gave us plenty more food for thought. So, here are a few further observations, as the dust settles.

1. Craft beer’ and ‘real ale’ aren’t just about beer: they can’t be separated from all the cultural gubbins that surrounds them. That’s why several commenters questioned the very basis of the post, and why Simon “Reluctant Scooper” Johnson’s sarky aside about pork pies and topless barmaids is valid.

2. We don’t want to be pushed into taking sides in an imaginary battle between ‘real ale’ and ‘craft keg’. There’s room for complexity in this conversation, and absolutists on either side are in a minority. They’ve got a place in the conversation, too, but it’d be a shame if it was all about them chucking bricks at each other over everyone else’s heads.

3. Whether it should or not, this conversation makes people defensive and emotional. (Even we ‘threw our toys out of the pram’ this time which happens fairly infrequently.) Isn’t that bonkers? As we’re sure someone will point out before long, it’s only beer. (“Oh no it isn’t!”)

4. Finally, if we could choose from all four pubs, we’d be in the Bird in Hand, the pub with the interesting cask ale. We’re Real Ale Twats at heart. Others might well choose the ‘craft keg’ pub, the Red Lion, and we wouldn’t think any less of them for it.

The Big Red Triangle

January 16th, 2012

Bass is better regarded as an icon of graphic design than as a beer.

It’s usually found in pubs that seem stuck in a timewarp and, in our experience at least, is rarely drinkable, from either keg or cask. We’ve found it sour and stale everywhere from grotty pubs with sticky carpets to gaudily wallpapered ‘style bars’ in south London.

A couple of weeks ago, however, we had a pint that was in tip-top condition and were reminded that at its best, Bass is a complex beer which carries some intentional ‘off flavours’ with aplomb. The sulphurous aroma, the hint of cider-apple and a final chalkiness, are not repellent but absolutely harmonious. It is reminiscent of, and better than, recent bottles of Worthington White Shield.

Until it tastes this way more often, however, while we won’t give up on it, it’ll have to remain on our list of beers of last resort.

Simon ‘Reluctant Scooper’ Johnson seems to know where to find Bass in reliably good nick; and those who like to try to find the breaking point of the term craft beer will find Bass a useful bit of ammo.

Real ale loyalist or a craft keg fanboy?

January 13th, 2012

Imagine you’re out in a strange town which has two pubs.

Pub #1: The King’s Arms

A pub which serves real ale in good condition. On the bar, Greene King IPA, Old Speckled Hen, Courage Best and Marston’s Bitter.

Pub #2: The Red Lion

Sells only kegged beer. On the bar, Thornbridge Chiron, Harviestoun Bitter and Twisted, Fuller’s London Porter and Magic Rock Human Cannonball.

Which pub would you choose?

We’d be in the Red Lion, like a shot.

A week later, you’re in a different town, which also, coincidentally, has just two pubs.

Pub #3: The Bird in Hand

Sells only real ale in good condition. On the bar, Fuller’s London Porter, Thornbridge Kipling, Crouch Vale Brewer’s Gold and Acorn Barnsley Bitter.

Pub #4: The Turk’s Head

A pub which sells only kegged beer. On the bar, Brain’s Smooth, Guinness, Wells Bombardier and Greene King IPA.

Which pub would you choose?

We’d be in the Bird in Hand.

All of which is a roundabout way of saying that we don’t subscribe to the idea that craft beer is the antithesis of real ale in the UK, and that we hope the conversation doesn’t go any further down the route of keg=good/cask=bad than it already has.

Five suggestions for Greene King

January 13th, 2012

Greene King, by all accounts, are puzzled and hurt by the disdain in which they (and especially their IPA) are held by beer geeks.

As usual, we (as Tandleman would say) sit on the fence a bit when it comes to Greene King: we recognise they make some good beers, but worry that their IPA is a Trojan horse — a beer so bland it has more in common with John Smith’s Extra Smooth than any other ‘real ale’.

However, inspired by this post at the Campaign for Really Good Beer, we thought we’d be constructive and suggest five things they can do to improve their image.

1. Instead of inviting critics and commentators one at a time to come and stand on your lovely roof and meet you charming head brewer, why not make a lot more information about how your beer is made available online? At the moment (unless we’re missing something) the website is all about branding and packaging.

2. Get out and try GK IPA as it is drunk in pubs all around the country: however subtle, balanced and well-made it might be at source, by the time it reaches, say, Exeter, it is usually, in our experience, warm, vinegary and flat. Has it got more market share than your quality control mechanisms can cope with?

3. As CAMRGB suggested, stop pretending that your pubs serve beers from a range of breweries and, in particular, nix the disingenuous London Glory. This is just cheeky and takes your customers for mugs.

4. With that huge London estate, surely there’s room somewhere for a pub which serves your full range of beers, from the rarely seen but apparently excellent mild, via Suffolk Strong, all the way up to the currently brewery-exclusive 5X? A flagship pub where you could send cynics to taste your best products as you intend them to be tasted?

5. On the subject of mild, given that anyone drinking GK IPA has already foregone any pretensions of youthfulness or trendiness, probably attracted by the low ABV as much as anything else, maybe there’s a market you’re failing to tap? We groan when we see your IPA on sale in a pub in Cornwall, but we’d be delighted to see your mild.

Some of this would also apply to St Austell and some other big regional brewers. If any of the above are already happening and we’ve missed them, let us know.