The reopening today of the London Transport Museum in Covent Garden has made me wonder why there’s no museum of brewing in the capital.
Sure, individual breweries around the country have their own museums, and Coors/Bass have the best claim to running the national museum of brewing in Burton Upon Trent.
But there’s nothing in London. The whole city is, in effect, a museum of brewing, but it would be nice to see key artifacts brought together in one place (the old Truman Brewery on Brick Lane, for example) to tell the fascinating story of brewing in this city.
Failing that, though, what about an exhibition at the excellent but occasionally overlooked Museum of London? That has a great “Victorian street”, including a pub, and some great stuff in the archives, so they’re halfway there already.
Update: I wonder if this story on Hop Talk might not have subconsciously influenced my thinking?
It’s not a great way to increase your life expectancy, but tactical use of junk food can make a night out a much more pleasurable affair, and save you from a hangover the next day.
The Regency Cafe in Pimlico is beautifully preserved 1940s cafe with a menu of finely prepared stodge. It’s a five minute walk from Westminster, and the perfect place to go before the pub.
On Friday night, I ate a huge plate of fishcakes, chips and beans before meeting mates for several pints of Crouch Vale Brewer’s Gold. At the end of the night, I barely felt even tipsy because there was so much potato in my stomach.
You don’t get the same effect by floating a spicy kebab on top of the booze. Eat before you drink!
This, of course, is food and beer matching in the crudest sense…
On Sunday, I made my 3000 words by lunchtime, so earned a Hoegaarden Grand Cru.
I’ve had it before and really enjoyed it, but I didn’t really have a tasting hat on then. This time, I really took my time over it.
There are many of the same flavours as Hoegaarden Wit, though this isn’t a wheat beer, as far as I can tell. Here, though, the accent is on spice (coriander, I guess) rather than citrus, although there are orange flavours). The thing that really stood out for me was how well the spices, the spiciness of the yeast and the alcohol (8.5%) complemented each other. It’s more warming than refreshing. It’s also a really beautiful golden colour, rather than the pale yellow of the Wit.
Both Boak and I are big fans of Hoegaarden Wit (although it’s not as good as it used to be, owned by a big company, etc. etc.) but Grand Cru really is something special. It might even make it into my top ten.
You might have noticed that the posts have been a bit less frequent recently. That’s because:
1. Boak is studying for an exam and so has time neither to drink nor write about anything other than something called “subjunctives” (search me…) and
2. I’m in the middle of my second attempt at National Novel Writing Month — I’m supposed to write 50,000 words between 1 and 30 November.
Of course, beer is playing a part in the latter. Is it unhealthy that my reward for reaching a day’s target (say, 3000 words by lunchtime today) is usually a strong Belgian beer…?
Why do people even bother going to the pub? Or, to put that another way, what does the pub have that you can’t get at home?
One obvious answer is: other people. You might be sat in the corner on your own reading the paper, but you want there to be other people around. Empty pubs are depressing places.
Another possible answer is: proper beer. For some people, that means cask-conditioned beer. For quite a few other people, it just means anything fresh tasting off a pump, hence the push to sell those little kegs for drinking at home which will supposedly replicate the experience.
For me, though, the reason the pub is special is because it’s like home, but not home. Your local pub should feel as comfortable as your front room but, unlike your front room, there should be the buzz of conversation, decent beer and, most importantly, four walls to stare at that aren’t your own four walls.