Tag Archives: fuller’s

Mock Imports

Wild River beer promotional material from Fuller's.

Importing beer is expensive and inconvenient, and, from the perspective of British breweries, every bottle of Belgian, German or American beer represents a lost opportunity.

Recently, we’ve seen Shepherd Neame launch a licensed, UK-brewed version of Sam Adams Boston Lager; Fuller’s launch a US-style IPA, Wild River, complete with Americana branding; and smaller (for now) breweries are launching saisons, dubbels, tripels, pilsners, weizens, wits and imperial double black bacon IPAs left, right and centre.

Generally speaking, we’d really rather drink a fresher, British-brewed imitation of a foreign beer than a stale, authentic, imported one.

However… the first report we’ve read, from Rabid Bar Fly, suggests that, the Shepherd Neame brewed Sam Adams Lager is fine, but an entirely different beer than the original. We haven’t seen the ‘point-of-sale’ material but our concern remains that most punters will think they’re drinking an imported beer and pay more for the privilege. If it doesn’t have BREWED IN THE UK in big letters, it’s a swizz.

Fuller’s approach is interesting. We’re taking Wild River’s branding as an attempt to convey a sense of the inspiration behind the beer and to give the consumer an idea of what to expect in their glass, rather than an attempt to con anyone: the branding merely evokes America and bears a prominent Fuller’s logo.

The smaller breweries are generally proud of where they’re based and there is little room for confusion in the packaging, as far as we can see. The problem here is that, sometimes, regrettably, the beer is half as good and yet twice as expensive as the real thing.

These wrinkles will iron out. A couple of years back, Meantime’s own lagers were put to shame by the imported beers from Schoenram on sale alongside them at the Greenwich Union; but, on our last visit, Meantime’s beers had improved immeasurably and, yes, were better and cheaper than their imported cousins.

The Session Curve

Our pints of mild on Saturday got us thinking about the experience of drinking a given beer over the course of a session which helped us understand what the term ‘session beer’ means to us.

So, this chart is an attempt to illustrate the pleasure we gain from a selection of beers over the course of an arbitrarily selected six drink session (about the upper end of what we ever drink — a ‘big one’ by our standards) indicated on the bottom axis.

The session beer curve illustrated in a chart.

It’s a bit of a jumble but:

  1. St Austell Black Prince, after about four pints, seems the finest beer in the world, after an underwhelming start, and we could keep drinking it forever.
  2. Fuller’s London Pride is rarely exciting but maintains its appeal throughout a session — another definition of balanced?
  3. St Austell Proper Job is a great beer — one we’re always delighted to find — but not one we like to drink more than about three pints of. It fails as a session beer because it is too intensely hoppy and just a touch too strong for us — the feeling that we ought to call it a day, the surprisingly wobbly walk to the bar, comes a little too soon.

One of each before my train leaves, please!

Fuller's pub sign in central London.

Pubs and bars worth visiting are cropping up in some odd places these days.

Last year, Tap East opened in the Westfield shopping centre in Stratford, East London; and in 2009, the Sheffield Tap opened on the platform at that city’s main station, followed by similar station ‘taps’ at Euston and York. These places aren’t exactly pubs as we know them, but, as Knut Albert points out, that’s probably to be expected. (In fact, are we going to end up calling them ‘taps’?)

The latest news is that Fuller’s are getting in on the act by opening a flagship pub (tap…) at King’s Cross — one which will apparently sell every beer they produce, including all available vintages of, er, Vintage Ale.

Imagine — no more tramping around London to try the latest Fuller’s seasonal, and no more lukewarm pints of Wandle at the John Betjeman while waiting for a train. Let’s hope its as good as the publicity makes it sound.

Now other big brewers need to get their acts together and do the same: we still want to see pubs in our major cities selling the full range of breweries such as Wells and Young’s and Greene King in tip-top condition. The twin defences of “you haven’t tried the good stuff” and “when you’ve tried it, it hasn’t been kept well” are wearing thin.

A long term relationship

Beer writers often say that a beer is “worth buying by the case” (Tim Webb and Joris Pattyn, we’re looking at you) but, being easily-distracted dilettante bloggers whose favourite beer is always the next one, we’ve tended to mix-and-match, trying to cover as much ground as possible.

Fuller’s Past Masters XX Strong, however, was only available by the case, so we bit the bullet and did it.

A whole box of the same beer? What if, once we tried it, we found ourselves lumbered with eleven bottles we don’t want to drink?

As it happened, although we liked it from the off, we only became more impressed as the beer matured. If we’d based our view on bottle number one, we might have stuck with our cautious thumbs-up and the view that Fuller’s 1845 is a better beer.

A whole case of beer takes the pressure off a little. It gives you the chance to just drink without over-thinking; to see a beer from different angles, at different times; to really get to know it. It also helps avoid Open It syndrome — a cupboard full of beers too precious to drink which are slowly going stale — because, hey, there’s a whole case, so why not have another?

This post is based on a lie: we’ve bought cases of beer for parties loads of times, but as we never got to touch any of that beer, and were just left with empty bottles and boxes, they don’t count.

Second honeymoon

A page from Michael Jackson's 500 beers book.

IPA was one of our first loves. As many people just getting into beer seem to find, the bold, obvious hop flavour and aroma provided an entrance point and, in the most visceral way, excited us. In the Great Beer Guide by Michael Jackson (our Bible back then) it was always the IPAs which looked most alluring — pictured in stemmed glasses, pale at the bottom, glowing amber at the top, the aroma almost lifting off the page. The fact that they played hard to get didn’t hurt, either: finding a strong hoppy IPA in London in 2007 involved research and usually one or more changes of public transport.

In the last year or two, however, we’ve drifted away from this style, partly because (at its worst) IPA can be a one-trick pony, and partly because the novelty wore off. (Colin Valentine was right — once they were everywhere, we got bored and moved on.)

This Christmas, however, we had the opportunity to stop thinking too hard and just enjoy several now easy-to-find IPAs.

St Austell Proper Job (5.5%, bottle)

Back in November, visiting Bridgwater, we were tipped off that Mole Valley Farmers were selling off out-of-date stock of Proper Job and Admiral’s Ale. We bought everything they had at 60p a bottle, knowing that, being bottle-conditioned, it was unlikely to have ‘gone off’. Sure enough, what we actually got in the Proper Job was a beautifully mellowed, rounded, aged IPA, without the slightly astringent hoppiness and thinnish body of the fresh cask version. Always a great beer, but one that doesn’t mind a bit of time to mature, it turns out.

Fuller’s Bengal Lancer (5.3%, bottle)

Is this getting better? The early batches were delicious but, here and there, had a hint of stewed tea about them. The bottles we drank over Christmas not only resembled cask ale more closely than any other bottled beer we’ve tried (skillful use of the microscope?) but also seemed brighter, cleaner and somehow less… English. Worth having in by the case, if you’re that way inclined.

Sainsbury’s Taste the Difference IPA (Marston’s) (5.9%, bottle)

This was the real surprise. We picked it up as an emergency backup — you don’t want to run out of beer on boxing day, do you? — but had a moment of eye-popping joy on tasting it. It reminded us, for some reason we can’t quite pin down, of those heady first days of exploring beer with a Michael Jackson book in our rucksack and absolutely no idea what we were talking about. (Reader: Nothing’s changed, then?) Could it be the upfront cascade hops, once the darlings of the brewing scene, now a bit old hat? At any rate, Marston’s are now somewhat redeemed in our eyes. Worst tasting notes ever, though: malt and hops, apparently.

Thornbridge Jaipur (5.9%, cask)

We approached this with some trepidation. Tandleman and others whose tastebuds we have no reason to doubt have not been impressed with it lately. Fortunately, on this occasion, we found it as as glorious as ever. Compared to the three bottled IPAs, it seemed to have more toffee and certainly had a weightier body. A deep beer, yes, but also a very drinkable one, which slipped down and caused us (literally) to smack our lips.

Maybe, as we approach our fifth year of blogging about beer, it’s time to return to dig out Michael Jackson and get back to where we once belonged?

Fuller's Past Masters

The label on a bottle of Fuller's XX Strong Ale.

We were appalled to realise we’d missed the emergence of Fuller’s Past Masters in which the venerable London brewery recreates recipes from its old Brew Book, with advice from Ron Pattinson.

We rectified this by ordering cases of XX Strong Ale and Double Stout, both based on recipes from the 1890s.

The first thing that’s obvious is how dominant the Fuller’s yeast is in determining the flavour of their beer. Despite a different variety of malt and a very different method of production, that XX is a Fuller’s beer is made obvious by the aroma and tang of orange marmalade which assails you as you drink it.

Of the two beers, XX is the more immediately impressive — complex and strong, with a metallic “made with girders” sweetness and a bitterness which almost numbs the mouth. It is clearly related to 1845, but more sherry-like, and without the saltiness and taste of burnt raisins we associate with 1845. Perhaps we were expecting something Victorian to taste dirtier, somehow, like the aged beers we drank in Antwerp, but this isn’t an antique, after all: it’s a fresh, clean beer made using an old recipe.

Double Stout just didn’t excite us as much, although it is certainly delicious, and we’re looking forward to drinking ten more bottles before reaching a final decision. It’s also a beautiful looking beer, with one of those charming off-white coffee foam heads that big stouts sometimes have. The thing is, it’s really not so different from any number of other strong stouts on the market. For example, Sam Smith’s Imperial Stout or one of the stronger Guinness Export stouts would do much the same job. The point is though, as the label is at pains to make clear, that this wouldn’t have been an ‘imperial stout’ when brewed in 1893: 7.4% would have been a perfectly normal strength for a stout.

Now we need St Austell and other big family brewers to dust down their records, get Ron in for a day or two, and start doing the same thing. What better way to spice up the staid ranges these types of breweries seem to offer without compromising the sense of tradition they seem to value so much?

Red Bloody Fox

We’ve moaned about Jack Frost before — it’s the Fuller’s beer no-one likes but which they trot out every winter. You never have any trouble getting a pint of that, but getting a cask London Porter, Festival Mild or Hock is blood near impossible if you don’t turn up at the right pub with the stars in alignment.

Well, Red Fox is in the same category. It’s a beer which, as far as we can tell, is based on a marketing concept: it’s autumn, lads — can you come up with something with red in it’s name? It’s boring. Bottled London Porter kicked its arse.

We love Fuller’s but, at times, it’s like being a Beatles fan: they withhold the good stuff and keep expecting you to buy gimmicky rubbish in the meantime.

Fullers: please sell cask London Porter from October to March and ditch the crappy seasonals!

Fullers: why no cask Porter?

Does anyone know why Fuller’s have apparently decided not to release London Porter in cask-conditioned form this year?

Their website boasts that it is “widely regarded as the World’s finest porter” and it’s certainly a personal favourite of ours. It’s also had rave reviews from other beer bloggers.

So, why drop this one but continue to push the mediocre Jack Frost?

Half-and-half with the old man

pride

Fuller’s London Pride from a cask mixed with Fuller’s bottled London Porter makes a cracking half-and-half.

My Dad has developed a deep affection for Fuller’s beers and, when he’s in London, always finds an excuse to drop into one of their pubs. On his most recent trip, he’d only been off the train five minutes when he had us installed in the Mad Bishop and Bear at Paddington Station. (“Best wait for the rush hour crowds to pass.”)

Another of his favourite things is mixing his beers. At home in Bridgwater, it’s a necessity — every third pint of Butcombe Bitter down there is a bit stale and he relies on Mann’s Brown Ale to rescue them. On this occasion, he insisted on mixing Pride and London Porter, not because the Pride was bad, but because he really wanted a pint of mild and that, in his view, is the next best thing.

Usually, I find mixed beers are less than the sum of their parts, but this really was very drinkable, and offers yet another reason for more pubs to offer a good bottled stout or porter.

Bailey