Categories
20th Century Pub pubs

Pubs versus cafes in 1927 and 2024

What is it about pubs that makes them particularly suitable for socialising and ‘hanging out’, compared to cafes and restaurants?

Earlier this week we wrote about a board game cafe which seemed to have many of the characteristics of a pub.

Most crucially, it was busy (it had atmosphere) and relaxed, with no particular pressure to buy anything once you’d taken a table.

We found an echo of this – including a mention of games – in Ernest Selley’s 1927 book The English Public House As It Is:

The public house is a place where people tarry for social intercourse as well as for refreshment. There are, of course, other shops which sell refreshment, i.e., dairies and tea-shops, but one rarely sees a crowd of people congregate in a dairy or tea-shop in quite the same way as people meet in public houses. It is true that people meet in tea-shops and take refreshment and enjoy social intercourse, and also at times play games such as draughts, and dominoes; but the number of people who, for instance, make a habit of spending a whole evening in a tea-shop is small enough to be left out of account. Besides, tea-shops are not nearly so ubiquitous as public houses, except perhaps in the office areas of some of our larger towns and cities.

On that point of ubiquity, things have changed, at least if we substitute ‘coffee’ for ‘tea’.

In 20th Century Pub we wrote in passing about the arrival of the espresso machine in Britain in the 1950s and the threat it was seen to pose to the traditional pub.

Zooming forward half a century, and just picking one chain, there were 41 branches of Costa Coffee in 1995. Now there are more than 2,000.

And the number of pubs has, of course, severely declined since 1927.

But, still, if you wanted to meet a friend, hang out for a couple of hours, without eating a full meal, wouldn’t you still default to a pub?

Well, of course you would – but would a majority of people?

We think the answer is still “Yes” but with a shift definitely underway.

As well as the aforementioned board game cafes, we’ve also noticed in Bristol a growing number of (a) video game bars or grown-up amusement arcades and (b) dessert cafes.

The video game places are interesting. In both of those we’ve visited there was draught beer but you were absolutely free to ignore it. You were paying your way by paying to play games with drinks as an additional amenity.

And the desert cafes will sell you a disgustingly huge plate of ice cream and waffles, or whatever, and then let you and several friends spend hours picking at it. In Bristol, they’re notably popular with young Asian people, who perhaps feel less comfortable hanging out around booze.

Much as we love pubs and enjoy drinking beer, the prospect of a hospitality landscape that includes hangover-free options doesn’t displease us.

As we hinted in our previous post, perhaps what pub operators need to focus on is how they can make people who don’t want to drink feel welcome, and welcome to stay. And think about what they can sell them other than alcoholic drinks.

Of course, you can file that under “Oh, yeah, I hadn’t thought of that”.

From pub grub to coffee to cinemas to ballrooms, pubs have been trying to diversify for more than a century. Why doesn’t it ever quite seem to take?

Categories
bristol pubs

New ways of drinking: the board game cafe

Chance & Counters isn’t a pub, or even a bar. It’s a board game cafe. And on Friday night, it was remarkably busy.

There are five branches across the UK, in Cardiff, Birmingham, Leeds and Bristol, where there are two.

It was founded here in 2016 after a successful Kickstarter campaign, and the original branch is at the bottom of Christmas Steps in town.

The cafe we visited is the larger, newer branch on Gloucester Road.

It had previously struck us as something of a cursed location, with one business after another launching, struggling and crashing in these same premises.

Perhaps it was too big for most concepts, looking empty even with 20 people dining.

Maybe launching a pork-themed restaurant wasn’t a great idea at the exact moment one of Britain’s most hippified cities fully embraced the plant-based food revolution.

Or maybe it was just in no-man’s land, beyond the main run of hospitality venues around The Arches, where the charity shops start.

But then, last year, we walked past Chance & Counters on a weekend evening and paused to gawp in astonishment.

It was not only busy but positively jumping, with a crowd of hip young things spilling onto the street, flirting and sharing cigarettes as they compared notes on gameplay and tactics.

Are board games… are they cool now?

Since then, we’d been looking for an excuse to visit.

Friday night at Chance & Counters

We don’t mind the odd board game ourselves, but Ray’s brother is a positive enthusiast.

He is also teetotal and often has to endure pubs where there is nothing much for him, and where the atmosphere sends him to sleep.

So, when we met for dinner on Friday, we proposed a detour.

Over games of Tsuro and Sushi Go! we got the opportunity to watch a new type of ‘third place’ in action.

What’s different? Well, for one thing, you pay just to be there. It costs £2 per person, per hour. That gets you use of a table and access to the extensive library of games in the centre of the cafe.

It’s waiter service only. They greet you at the door, clock you into the system, and point you to a QR code on the table for the menu. Then, after a while, they return to take your order.

Ray had Lost & Grounded Helles (draught) and Jess went for non-alcoholic Bristol Beer Factory Clear Head.

Ray’s brother (teetotal) and partner (driving) both had hot chocolate.

Also on offer were wine, spirits, cider, shots, fancy milkshakes, fancy milkshakes with booze, soft drinks, smoothies, floats, mocktails, teas and coffees.

Most groups, as far as we could tell, had a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

After a while, it did start to feel, if not like a pub, then at least like a Proper Night Out. The hubbub and liveliness of the crowd saw to that.

There were large groups of eight or ten stretched along banqueting tables; couples on first dates (we think); less nervous couples playing card games over glasses of wine; and lads knocking back pints while getting increasingly competitive.

It felt effortlessly and refreshingly inclusive, with space for all sorts of people, from evidently shy to extravagantly alternative.

We agreed we’d go again. Certainly if we’re hanging out with Ray’s brother, but perhaps even on our own, as a change from the norm.

Poor old pubs

Sitting in a couple of more traditional pubs on Saturday, we were struck by the contrast.

In both there were only a handful of older drinkers staring, sullen, at TVs bolted to the walls, and nobody seemed to be having much fun at all.

We wondered how these struggling publicans might feel about the option to charge people just for being there, at £2 an hour, as they sip their cider.

Categories
News

News, nuggets and longreads 27 January 2024: Dead Beat

It’s Saturday morning which means another round-up of good reading about beer, brewing and pubs, from the Baltic to Bermondsey.

First, a couple of bits of news:

  • Steve Holt, owner of Kirkstall Brewery, has stepped into rescue North Brewing: “The move will ensure North’s future, including its Springwell Brewery and Taproom, as well as the North Taproom sites in Leeds and Manchester. The transaction does not include the North Taproom in Birmingham, which will close.”
  • Carlsberg Marston has decided to shut down the last example of Burton union brewing equipment still in use, in Burton upon Trent. Ian Webster has more background at The Beertonian: “[The] various incarnations of Marston’s have been proud of their Union Room, calling it the ‘Cathedral of Brewing.’ In 1991 their commitment expanded with the installation of more Unions. ‘No Burton Union. No Pedigree. End of.’ Not my words but those on marstonsbrewery.co.uk”

An alleyway leading into a courtyard with shops and cafes.
Neal’s Yard by Martina Jorden on Unsplash.

For The Guardian Jonathan Nunn has written about Nicholas Saunders, founder of Neal’s Yard Dairy and various other ventures in the UK. It’s not about beer, though The Kernel does get a mention, but about the complexity behind the idea of ‘artisanal’ foodie culture:

Passersby assumed it was all a posh hippy commune, and in some sense they were correct. For all its democratic impulse, many workers in the warehouse either had the title “Honourable” before their names, had been to the same public school as Saunders… Some resented the increase in “straight” customers that the Yard’s success was attracting. In 1977, when a Daily Telegraph article flooded the Yard with people from the home counties desperate for bargain basement coffee, Saunders temporarily shut it down. He may have distrusted the “freaks”, but Saunders also realised that if too many “straights” came then the Yard’s alternative atmosphere could not be maintained. Days later, an irritated customer came by to harangue Saunders with his thoughts on the matter: “So you stopped selling coffee because you were too successful? How British. How disgustingly British.”

Nunn also observes that graduates of Neal’s Yard and associated businesses dominate the UK artisanal food and drink scene even today. Until very recently (like, this week) Bristol had a specialist beer and cheese shop run by former Neal’s Yard people, via Bermondsey.

His final observation is a depressing one: when you try to create an alternative, it seems to either get co-opted (taken over by Holland & Barrett) or becomes part of the engine of gentrification:

“At times [the British food scene’s] institutions bring to mind Saunders’s criticism of the shops he was once trying to put out of business: meeting places for the in-group, expensive, making ordinary people feel like intruders.”


Illustration: a pub door spilling light.

In the latest edition of her newsletter, The Gulp, Katie Mather asks: “When I say I want to go to the pub, what do I mean?”

I want to be chatted to when I go to the bar to choose from a good selection of beer, and feel like the people who work here are looked after and enjoy being there. I love a real fire, but controversially, it’s not a dealbreaker. I do, however, award huge bonus points for hauntings, witch marks, and fascinating or gory local history that can be linked to the pub—however tentatively. Points are deducted for tourism-baiting, although I’m not too harsh on this right now. It’s a difficult industry out there. Beautiful views from the windows are a tick. Funny or interesting regulars are a tick. Classic bar snacks are a massive tick—pickled eggs, butties wrapped in clingfilm, or pies from a local butchers’ shop all tot the points right up.


Historic red brick buildings around the market square of a German city.
The main square in Stralsund, Germany, by Samuel Svec on Unsplash.

For Pellicle Will Hawkes provides a detailed profile of Störtebeker Braumanufaktur in Stralsund, Germany, which also acts a vehicle to explain the history of brewing in the DDR, and German attitudes to experimental beer:

It was once Stralsunder, founded in 1827, but its modern story begins in February 1990 amidst the wreckage of the former DDR… At the time East Germany breweries were in high demand—or some of them were. Export brands such as Radeberger and Lübzer, which had the best equipment and ingredients East Germany could afford, had an excellent reputation, and were quickly snaffled when the Treuhand—the organisation established to sell off state-owned East German companies—put them up for sale in 1990… Stralsunder was different. Having paid 1 million Deutschmarks (about £815,000 in modern pounds Sterling), [new owners] the Nordmanns were confronted with dozens of suppliers demanding back payment, coal-powered brewery equipment in terrible shape, lagering cellars not cold enough to do their job, and a supply chain in ruins coughing up awful ingredients.


Converted warehouses in Bermondsey.

Let’s stick with Will Hawkes: the December edition of his excellent newsletter is now free to read online and includes what amounts to an oral history of the London brewing scene in the 2010s. That’s a period that’s starting to feel like history, and in need of documentation. Will highlights various instances of people learning the ropes in London then shooting off around the UK, and the world, to found their own breweries:

“The brewers in East London were a tight bunch. There was zero competition, everyone was super open to sharing ideas and excitement about beers. Friday after work in the Cock Tavern you couldn’t move for brewers! I still brew like those early days at the Kernel: I make quite different styles now, but they are made in the same spirit.”


The Lower Turk's Head, Manchester.

We’ve already linked to this in a full-on response post earlier in the week but, for completeness, do check out Ross Cummins on his top 5 Manchester pints (at the moment):

Now herein lies the first problem with this list. Holt’s Black is not available in every Holt’s pub in Manchester City centre. On a previous occasion I had tried to get Dave to try a pint of the black stuff in The Hare & Hounds and Lower Turks Head, both of which serve Holt’s beer (the latter being an actual Holt’s pub, and the former just serving Holt’s Bitter it seems). Yet neither had Black on draft… See I had first tried Black only a few months ago at The Ostrich in Prestwich, thanks to Cafe Beermoth‘s very own bar manager, Big Cal. He had harped on about it a few times, and so when I got the chance I tried it, and loved it. It became my go to at my local, The Cleveland, another Holt’s pub just down the round from my house. Thus I had assumed every Holt’s pub did it. Unfortunately not.


Finally, from Liam K on BlueSky

A screengrab of a social media post by BeerFoodTravel.BSky.Social showing O'Hara's Leann Folláin stout blended with Saison Dupont: “I'm doing a bit more blending tonight, top league stuff…”

For more good reading check out Stan Hieronymus’s round-up from Monday and Alan McLeod’s from Thursday.

Categories
bristol opinion

Our top 5 Bristol pints

What are the top five reliable pints in your town or city? That is, beers you always know you’ll find in specific pubs.

That question comes via Ross Cummins who set out his favourite five pints in Manchester in an excellent post on his blog earlier this week:

This is not a definitive list of best beers in Manchester, or best beers by Manchester breweries, this is a list of MY favourite pints, that I can get in Manchester.

This sparked some interesting follow ups on BlueSky where people pondered what a similar list for London might look like, for example.

And of course, it made a natural topic of conversation for us during one of our recent pub sessions: what would be our equivalent of this list for Bristol?

We found it hard because relatively few Bristol pubs that we like consistently have on the same beers.

The ale-focused pubs have a laudable variety of guest beers, but that means you rarely find any of the same stuff two visits in a row.

And lots of our favourite Bristol breweries also change their range regularly, so even in taprooms or tied pubs you might not be guaranteed to find a particular favourite beer.

In our selection, therefore, we have hedged our bets a little and sometimes suggested alternative beers.

We’ve also tried to balance what we actually really enjoy drinking versus what we would recommend to a visitor to Bristol, who maybe wants to try something local, and new to them.

Then we decided not to overthink it too much. It’s just a blog post! If you disagree, write your own.

So anyway, with all of Ross’s caveats and a few of our own, here is our list.

The exterior of a grand Edwardian pub with ornate gables, painted grey.
The Langton.

1. Butcombe Bitter at the Langton

The Langton for us, anyway, as it’s walkable from our house, but maybe at The Ostrich for out-of-towners.

We like Butcombe Bitter a lot when it’s good, and it’s reliably good these days. It’s also available in quite a few decent Bristol pubs.

It’s the closest thing we’ve got to a traditional brown bitter from an old family brewery.

Although Butcombe is only 40-odd years old, it was founded by a former Courage employee with the explicit intention of brewing Courage-style beer.

The most regular place that we drink it is probably The Langton but it’s quite schlep out of town and not a particularly remarkable pub. It just happens to be close to us.

And its Butcombe is almost always in great condition.

The Lost & Grounded taproom with bare tables, bunting, and an illuminated sign that reads COLD LAGER.
Lost & Grounded.

2. Keller Pils at Lost & Grounded

We visit this taproom more often than any other, and it’s partly because we like the range and styles of beer and partly due to proximity.

It was hard for us to pick a particular beer because our actual favourites do rotate.

Also, if we’re honest, we don’t always find they taste the same from week to week. So we’re going for Keller Pils for now.

A pumpclip for Oakham Citra beer.

3. Oakham Citra at the Old Duke

The Old Duke is a music-focused pub on the King Street Run in the centre of town.

Oakham Citra is hoppy catnip for us.

We always enjoy it, and it appears to be a regular beer here, together with its tamer pale-n-hoppy cousin Adnams Ghost Ship.

A pint of golden amber beer in a straight pint glass in a pub garden.
Young’s Ordinary at The Highbury Vaults.

4. Young’s Bitter at the Highbury Vaults

The Highbury Vaults has a well-deserved reputation for good ale, and for extreme proper-pub cosiness.

It also has a pleasant, shady garden for the summer.

We tend to switch between Young’s London Original (AKA Young’s Bitter, AKA Ordinary) and St. Austell Proper Job when we’re there.

We usually try both and settle on whichever is in the best condition. But they’re both reliably very good and often excellent.

A big gold ornament of a dog with a cluttered pub bar back behind.
The Swan With Two Necks.

5. Elmoor (Moor) at the Swan with Two Necks

Both the beer and the pub have become favourites of ours.

The beer is billed as a ‘Belgian pale ale’ and tastes a bit like something Brasserie de la Senne would produce.

It’s refreshing, bitter, still just about sessionable at 5.5%, if you take it easy.

This was tough

There were so many things we almost included, but couldn’t quite justify.

For example, we also wanted to include Bass. It’s still very much present in a surprising number of Bristol pubs – but not in any pubs we visit regularly.

That means we can make recommendations for places to try but have to stop short of a full endorsement for any one pub.

For a fuller view of what to drink and where, check out our Bristol pub guide which we’ve just updated for 2024.

Categories
bristol

New to us: The Somerville Club, St. Andrews, Bristol

The Somerville Club is almost invisible from the street, and like the TARDIS, seems magically bigger on the inside.

We first heard of The Somerville from Ray’s mate Mike. He’s lived round the corner for more than 40 years and only discovered the club last year, despite having walked past it thousands of times.

There is a shiny metal sign, about A5 size, a couple of metres back from the pavement. Otherwise, it looks like another suburban Victorian terrace, with recycling bins and a bike shed.

Perhaps discretion was part of the licensing conditions. St. Andrews is notable for having no pubs within its bounds. We’ve been told by local history types that there’s a covenant on the land, which was developed in the 19th century with row after row of villas and bay-fronted houses.

As far as we can tell, the club was founded in 1893 as the HQ of Horfield Liberal Association, but was being referred to as The Somerville Club by the 1920s.

Wooden boards listing life members of the Somerville Club next to a set of caricatures of famous snooker players, including Jimmy White and Steve Davis.
The snooker room at The Somerville Club.

We went on Friday 12 January to attend a pub quiz at the invitation of another pair of pals who live not so far away. They’d never been before either and, as one of them is from a club-going Northern family, were keen to investigate.

Getting in was the first challenge. As non-members you need to ring the bell and negotiate entry. We dithered around the door for a bit until a member arrived and welcomed us.

Inside there’s that familiar sense of nostalgia social clubs often deliver. From heavy carpet to solid institutional furniture it feels like a bubble trapped in time.

After a small reception there’s a large bar area and then, at the back, a rather serious-looking snooker room.

The bar is smart and brightly-lit – clubs often have “the big light” on, we’ve noticed.

In one corner there’s a DJ booth labelled ‘Somerville Club Disco’ and there are tables and chairs along one wall and scattered about the floor.

Here and there are memorials to members lost, with touching messages and memories. Notices are pasted on the walls: changes to the committee, upcoming events, letters from charities thanking the Club for donations, and so on.

When it comes to beer, clubs can be touch-and-go. They’re often keg only and the brands are often odd orphans such as Ansell’s or Whitbread. At the Somerville it was cask Bass in excellent condition, alongside the less exciting Dartmoor Jail Ale. But lots of people seemed to be drinking draught Carling or bottled Peroni.

What struck us as the evening went on was how relaxed it felt, and how like the platonic ideal of the community pub. People knew each other by name and whole families occupied their regular seats.

We weren’t stared at or made to feel at all unwelcome, even when, rudely, as non-members, we won the quiz. Our club-going Northern pal instantly knew the right etiquette and we put our winnings in the charity tin on the bar, earning approving nods.

It made us think we really ought to join our local club, the Board Mill Social Club, and put more effort into exploring these strange, secret venues scattered around the city.

For more on where to drink check out our guide to Bristol pubs updated for 2024.