Category Archives: buying beer

The Ups and Downs of Supermarket Beer

In 1989, Roger Protz provided The Guardian with a round-up of the best beers available from the high street for drinking at home. Across all the major supermarkets of the time (including Gateway…) he found homebrew kits, Pilsner Urquell, Budvar, Tatra Pils (Poland), Tiger lager, Old Peculier, some nasty-sounding, very weak own-brand German lagers, plastic bottles and cans. Among the oddities were Thurn and Taxis Kristall Weizen in Tesco and Biere de Garde Jenlain at Sainsbury’s. There was no American beer and not much from the UK that wasn’t bitter, mild or very weak lager. There’s a sense that he was really hunting to find anything worth writing about.

In 1991, for the same paper, he wrote (with disclaimers about American beer) of the appearance of Anchor Steam and Brooklyn Lager, along with German and Belgian wheat beers, in specialist off-licences. Most branches of Tesco, he said, now had an interesting selection of imported beers including ‘Belgian monastic ales‘.

In 1993, Stuart Walton, writing for The Observer under the headline ‘Designer Beers’, declared that ‘waves of new beers from several sources have been hitting our shores unrelentingly’, and mentioned a few new arrivals, among them Timmerman’s Framboise and Schöfferhoffer wheat beer. (He was also excited about Corona and Kirin lagers.)

By 1994, Protz was able to report that an imported beer craze was in full swing, and his round-up included news that Sainsbury’s had launched, of all things, an own-brand gueuze, joining a Trappist beer and a bottle-conditioned English ale on their shelves. Safeway, meanwhile, were selling an attractively packaged box-set of ten British ales with a substantial booklet of tasting notes by Barrie Pepper. In the next ten years, as we remember fondly, the same supermarket would introduce an own-brand Kölsch ‘Cologne-style Lager’, Vienna lager, wheat beer and raspberry wheat beer, courtesy of Greenwich’s Meantime.

In a sense, that would seem to be a high-point of enthusiasm for beer on the part of supermarkets which have since stepped back a bit from the weirdness of gueuze and own-brand beer writing. A decent selection is now standard in most supermarkets, with occasional festivals and pushes.

Its worth noting, however, that the CO-OP, which Protz declared a write-off in 1989, now generally has as wide a selection of beer as Tesco had at that time when he declared them the best on the high street.

For those who are interested, in 1989, Budvar was 75p for 330ml; Urquell £1.25 for 660ml; Tatra Pils was £2.09 for a pack of four bottles of unspecificed size; and Old Peculier was £1.79 for three bottles.

And here’s a little thing we wrote about buying beer in the supermarket prompted by the Pub Curmudgeon.

How Much for a Pint of Foster’s!?

In the Blitz-like spirit of fellowship that enveloped the Olympic park in Stratford during the Olympics, we found ourselves sharing a tiny table at Tap East with a lovely, chatty middle-aged couple. Conversation turned, naturally, to pubs, at which point they dropped this bombshell:

“We were in a pub in Greenwich the other day where they’d put the price of Foster’s up to £5.90 a pint for the tourists.”

Astounding, spiv-like behaviour, if it’s true, but good to hear that punters refused to play along:

“They had to drop it again when there were complaints and they had no customers for two days.”

From what we observed, the places in London which were quietest during the Olympics were grotty, money-grubbing tourist traps. Everywhere else seemed to be doing a reasonable trade for the (soggy) dog-days of August.

Do Brewdog use CO2?

UPDATED after comments from our readers. Short answer: who knows how the hell Brewdog are carbonating their beers.

Every day, between five and ten unique visitors find our blog with the search term ‘do brewdog use Co2′. No kidding.

Because it pains us to imagine their disappointed little faces when they discover that we don’t actually answer that question anywhere, we decided it was time we did.

We take it that the question is really (a) “Do Brewdog artificially carbonate their beer?” or (b) “Are Brewdog’s beers ‘real ale’?”

To which the answers are (a) yes sort of, maybe and (b) no hardly any.

It seems most of Brewdog’s beers are carbonated in closed fermentors; have most of their yeast filtered out; and are then ‘topped up’ with CO2 to get to the right level of carbonation. All of Brewdog’s beers are carbonated using carbon dioxide injected into the beer.

They made a fuss about ceasing production of cask do not currently produce any ‘real ale’ — that is beer which is conditioned (carbonated) ‘naturally’ in the bottle or cask by yeast remaining in the beer — but do produce a very small number of limited edition beers which are conditioned naturally in the bottle. Those are technically ‘real ales’, we guess, though they wouldn’t like to label them as such…

Does that make their beer better or worse? Does the use of some added CO2 make their beer worse? Can. Of. Worms.

We also get occasional visitors trying to find out if John Smith’s smooth is real ale: it isn’t, but John Smith’s Cask (rarely seen) is.

British Monastic Brewing

006 Buckfast Abbey

Perhaps if Henry VIII had left them alone, Britain’s monastic communities would be big players in brewing today. As it is, Buckfast Abbey in Devon is as close as we get.

The monks of Buckfast don’t make beer, though: as perhaps befits the French origins of the monks who took over the Abbey in the nineteenth century, they produce fortified ‘tonic’ wine. What’s more, Buckfast wine does not have a good reputation. The first time we heard of it was in an episode of Rab C. Nesbitt.

Watching the oddly stilted video presentation in the visitor centre, we were struck by several things: the contrast between the simple monastic life and the huge, branded tankers transporting wine “all around the world” (Scotland); the glasses of beer visible on the table during footage of the monks at lunch; and the shot of the monastic produce shop.

Yes, there is beer at Buckfast after all — bottles of Chimay and Andechs on sale to tourists, alongside honey, sweets, soap and trinkets made by monks all over Europe.

The Abbey is weird but worth a visit, especially as it’s near the Valiant Soldier. Entry is free and it’s open every day, all year round. Pic from Flickr Creative Commons.

Not remotely trendy

Moor beers, from their website

The County Stores in Taunton is one of those shops which seems to have been there forever — the kind of place where you wouldn’t be surprised to see Miss Marple filling a wicker basket with shortbread and packets of powdered egg. Like much in Somerset, it is resolutely conservative and old-fashioned, but there is a point where that instinct overlaps with a fashionable interest in small, local producers.

The result? Shelves stacked with beers from almost all of Somerset’s small breweries. Quantock, Cheddar Ales and — perhaps most excitingly — Moor are all represented in a selection which, perhaps unwittingly, echoes what you might see in a much trendier specialist off-licence.

If you’re passing through Somerset and want to stock your fridge with local beer, head here but, also, if you’re anywhere else in the country, keep an eye on your local family-run department store or farm shop — you never know what might lurk within, beyond the cardigans, balls of wool and miniature porcelain cottages.

If it's off, take it off

Hopefully, regular readers will have noticed that we try not to go for slagging off pubs and breweries: if we have a beer we don’t like, we tend not to mention it; or if a pub is nothing to write home about, well, we don’t write home.

There is one behaviour in pubs which is so annoying, though, that we have decided that we are going to start naming and shaming. That is where bar staff agree with you that a pint is off, give you a replacement, and then continue to sell it to other punters. (See also Pete Brown on this topic.)

There isn’t really any justification for this, unless the barman genuinely believes the complainer is wrong. In most cases it’s either ignorance on behalf of the staff (“it all tastes funny to me”; “Oh, yeah, this one’s meant to be a bit vinegary, I think”; “I’ll just humour the weirdo”) or blatant cynicism (“I know it’s ropey but most people are too polite to complain so I’ll keep flogging it”). In either case, it’s not good news.

So, this week’s badges of shame go to the Abbey in Westminster (to be honest, a rubbish place anyway, I was only there because someone else chose the venue) and the Old Dairy, Crouch Hill, North London. The latter has fabulous food, and is a great pub in every other respect (what a fantastic building) but unfortunately, their pints taste like warm butter, and they don’t seem to think most of their customers will care.

Boak

Why so few bottled dark beers?

It’s always interesting to see the old adverts that pubs sometimes use to decorate their walls. A poster for Bateman’s Salem Porter from the early 90s caught our eye this week.

We assumed this beer had been discontinued because we’ve never seen it for sale anywhere, unlike their ubiquitous XXXB and Rosey Nosey Christmas beer. But, no, they still make this multiple award winning cask only beer.

Keen as we are to find it on cask one day, it would also be nice if their bottled range (which we can get very easily in corner shops in our bit of London) included this apparently brilliant beer. Perhaps they could drop one of the three very similar golden ales to make room?

Maybe they feel there’s no market? If so, that’s a shame, because we really believe dark beers (milds, porters, stouts, lagers, whatever) are going to be the next big thing. After all, what’s a cooler looking pint than one that’s pitch black?

American beer in East London

americanbeersinwalthamstow

The mystery of the two Brooklyn India Ale bottles in an alley near our house has been solved.

It seems that Paul’s Wines — an ancient and tatty off-license on Orford Road in Walthamstow, East London — has upped its game on the beer front. It’s been decent for a while (lots of bottled ale, the occasional sighting of Brooklyn Lager) but now it’s probably one of the best specialist beer shops in London. The manager says it’s a permanent arrangement as long as they can keep hold of the supplier.

Don’t get over-excited: there isn’t that much competition when it comes to beer shops in London, and it’s no Utobeer. But it’s better than the Army and Navy beer section these days, and really, really convenient for us!

In stock now, on top of the usual suspects from Young’s, Shepherd Neame, Badger and Fuller’s (partial list):

  • Anchor Steam
  • Goose Island Honkers Ale
  • Flying Dog Hefe Weizen
  • Brooklyn Brown Ale; East India Ale; and Lager
  • Bernard Dark
  • RCH Pitchfork
  • Morrissey Fox
  • some ales from breweries I didn’t recognise
  • some weird looking beers from Russia, Mongolia, Corsica…
  • And the full range of Sam Smith’s.

I got a 10 per cent discount for buying (ahem) a few bottles.

Scottish beer in London

royalmilewhisky1

If you’re interested in getting hold of Scottish beer in London, Royal Mile Whiskies at 3 Bloomsbury (near Holborn) looks like a good place to start.

It’s a touristy-looking off-license that we just wandered by last night on the way to the pub. We stopped dead in our tracks and stared at the window, where beers from Broughton, Cairngorm, Williams Brothers, Orkney and Brewdog were on display.

It was closed, sadly, so we didn’t get chance to go in and nose around. Who knows what other wonders might lurk within?

On a related note, any suggestions as to where we can find an 80 shiling on tap in London?