I wish more British pubs had a porter on tap, at least between September and March. More as in all.
I’ve been weaning my brown-beer-loving Dad onto dark beer for a few months now. He was bowled over by Sam Smith’s Taddy Porter at his birthday dinner; loved their Imperial Stout when he tried it in London; and had his socks knocked off by a particularly impressive bottle of Meantime’s London Porter on Christmas Day.
On Boxing Day, he sighed and said: “I might go to the pub if they had a nice porter on, but they won’t, will they?”
Knowing the pubs in my home town, I had to agree that the chances were slim of finding a dark beer other than Guinness.
It was with some excitement, then, that he reported his discovery of a pub in Plymouth (the Thistle Park Inn, where his band were playing) which was serving Sutton’s Plymouth Porter. It sounds delicious — Dad said treacle; Adrian Tierney Jones suggests it’s made with Cascade and/or Bramling Cross hops. It made my Dad’s day.