When you get the urge to drink Czech beer, as we have lately, Bristol isn’t necessarily the best city to be in. But there are options.
First, though, you have to accept that it’s the big names or nothing. Unless we’re missing something (we’d be delighted to discover we are) it’s Budvar and, if you’re very lucky, Pilsner Urquell.
What about Staropramen? The draught stuff we get in the UK is not imported, it’s brewed by Molson-Coors in Burton. Honestly, we’ve found it fine when we’ve drunk it in recent years, and it is distinctly different from, say, Stella Artois. But delightful and authentic it is not.
And don’t get us started on ‘Pravha’ – a “light tasting pilsner inspired by Prague” which brings to mind Lidl’s evasively named Italiamo range of vaguely Italian foods.
There are also occasional attempts by local breweries to brew Czech-style beers. We’d like to see more of this, not least because freshness strikes us a key part of what makes those beers so remarkably satisfying on their home turf.
Lost & Grounded’s Altogether Elsewhere, for example, has been a pleasure to drink recently, even if it perhaps lacked the full body of the real deal.
As it happens, the Budvar rep has been through Bristol lately, and some pubs that didn’t sell it a year or so ago now do. The Old Stillage in Redfield, for example, had it last time we visited, and it’s turned up at The Swan With Two Necks from time to time.
This brings us to another problem: a glass of Budvar is much less enjoyable when it’s served in a bog standard British pint glass, with no foam, rather than in a branded mug with a good head.
We don’t demand perfect Czech-style ‘pours’ and utter reverence – only an acknowledgement that it’s a bit more than a pint of lager.
When that rep visited The Old Stillage, and The Swan, they apparently left behind boxes and boxes of pretty convincing Czech-style mugs. Round, ribbed, slightly squat. The beer looked and tasted great.
For a few weeks, at least, after a new beer arrives on the taps, you’ll get that full experience. Slowly, though, the supply of this handsome glassware begins to dwindle, being slipped into rucksacks, handbags and coat pockets, and migrating to kitchen cupboards across the city.
We actually have one of these glasses at home. And, no, we didn’t nick it – we found it at the end of our street. Perhaps someone had walked home from the pub, finishing their beer on the way, and then abandoned it. At any rate, we rescued it, gave it a good clean, and now have it in steady rotation.
When the fancy glassware has gone, and while the pubs await resupply, you get your Czech beer in whatever glass might be at hand. Perhaps even one branded for Guinness, or Thatcher’s cider.
It’s only superficial, we know. It shouldn’t matter. But…
This weekend, having seen Ben Palmer’s photos from a trip to Brno, we had a particular craving for something Czech, served properly. With Jess rehearsing and singing in a concert, however, Ray had to strike out on his own.
The first place he thought to look, at Jess’s suggestion, was The Llandoger Trow.
It has an excellent list of draught lager, mostly German, but generally has unfiltered Budvar.
And though it doesn’t always have good glassware (the bar manager has often mentioned, sadly, that it usually gets stolen within a few weeks) when they do have it, they use it.
On this occasion, it turned out to be very much the right choice of pub.
Perhaps spurred on by the aggressive advance of the Budvar reps, the Pilsner Urquell people must have been through, because there it was in the top slot on the menu on the blackboard.
It was served with considerable care in a branded mug – albeit a tall, straight one that didn’t feel like anything we’d ever encountered in Czechia.
And here’s the best thing: it cost £5 for a pint – pretty competitive for a pint of lager of any description in Bristol in 2025.
In every possible sense, it scratched the itch.
Find out more about our local pubs and their specialities in our Bristol pub guide, updated for 2025.
