Perfect Pride and the fear of the shred

Last night at our local, The Drapers Arms, we enjoyed perfect London Pride: solid foam, dry bitterness, a subtle note of leafy green, wrapped in marmalade, with a lantern glow.

Delight­ful as this was, it also trig­gered a sense of frus­tra­tion, because lots of peo­ple won’t believe us, because they don’t believe that Pride can be that good, because they’ve nev­er had a pint that isn’t half-dead.

The thing about beer, and cask ale espe­cial­ly, is that all the sub­tle vari­ables make rec­om­mend­ing or endors­ing any par­tic­u­lar prod­uct a risky busi­ness.

It’s as if you’ve told peo­ple about a great song…

…and then when they try to act on your advice and lis­ten to it they get, nine times out of ten, the shred:

Or like giv­ing a film five stars but the only ver­sion on the mar­ket is the stu­dio cut, pan-and-scan, VHS-trans­fer with burned in Dutch sub­ti­tles.

That’s why these days we tend to talk about spe­cif­ic pints or encoun­ters rather than say­ing “Pride is a great beer” or “Trib­ute is fan­tas­tic”.

Or, alter­na­tive­ly, give mild endorse­ments with mul­ti­ple caveats.

The best you can hope for, real­ly, is that a beer will more often be good than bad when peo­ple encounter it in the wild.

A foot­note: The Drap­ers had Pride’s beer miles list­ed as 6,120. It’s not as if it’s being brewed in Japan in the wake of the takeover, of course, but own­er­ship mat­ters.

BWOASA: Fuller’s comes through

Fuller's barley wine.

After our depth-testing was a bit of a failure last week, we were starting to get really worried: was this going to be a month of posts about the absence of barley wine, old ale and strong ale?

Then we realised there was at least one safe bet: Fuller’s.

The Old Fish Mar­ket isn’t a pub we’re mad keen on, tend­ing to the busi­nesslike in terms of atmos­phere, though it does the job from time to time when we want a fix of one of our favourite Lon­don brew­eries.

Cru­cial­ly, we also know it car­ries both Gold­en Pride and 1845 in bot­tles, and so on Fri­day night, before Ray caught a train to Lon­don, in we went for a bot­tle of each, with a chas­er of ESB.

We don’t drink Gold­en Pride often, per­haps once every cou­ple of years. There’s a lin­ger­ing sense in our minds that it’s a bit… trashy, maybe? It’s not bot­tle-con­di­tioned, it’s less com­plex than some oth­er Fuller’s strong ales, and has a less inter­est­ing back­sto­ry. Which is why a mis­sion like this is help­ful in focus­ing the mind: it’s a great beer, and we’re lucky it still exists.

Cop­per-coloured and jew­el-like, it deliv­ered every­thing we expect from the ide­al bar­ley wine: sweet­ness, fruiti­ness, rich­ness. Sher­ry, fruit­cake, dates and prunes. Gold­en syrup, hon­ey and brown sug­ar. An avalanche of mar­malade.

Again, we found our­selves won­der­ing where the bound­ary between this type of beer and old-school dou­ble IPA might lie. Per­haps side-by-side the dis­tinc­tion would be clear­er.

Any­way, yes, here it is – the offi­cial stan­dard ref­er­ence bar­ley wine, against which oth­ers should be judged.

* * *

We used to love 1845, the clas­sic bot­tle-con­di­tioned strong ale, but appar­ent­ly we’ve grown apart.

Per­haps it was the close com­par­i­son to Gold­en Pride but, even at 6.3%, it seemed thin, harsh and unpleas­ant­ly earthy. As it warmed up, it gained some weight, and the bit­ter­ness fell back into some­thing like bal­ance, but it lacked fruiti­ness.

Its main effect was to make us real­ly, real­ly want a pint of ESB.

* * *

We’re lucky to have ESB, too. At its best – and on Fri­day, it was at its best – it’s a beer that brings the depth and den­si­ty of a nip-bot­tle-sip­per into the pub pint glass.

Even after drink­ing Gold­en Pride at 8.5%, ESB at 5.5 tast­ed chewy, charm­ing and lus­cious. You know the flavours but, just in case: mar­malade, fruit­cake, mild spice, cher­ry and orange zest. Hot cross buns per­haps sums it up.

Maybe this is why we don’t drink Gold­en Pride more often – because ESB pro­vides 80% of the plea­sure with far less boozy inten­si­ty, while still feel­ing like a spe­cial treat.

* * *

We float­ed out of the OFM quite hap­py, feel­ing that we were final­ly on the right track.

Feelings about Fuller’s

On Friday it was announced that Asahi had acquired the brewing wing of Fuller’s, subject to rubber-stamping, and we felt, frankly, gutted.

Jess, being a Lon­don­er, took it espe­cial­ly hard, though not, per­haps, as hard as the per­son who runs the Lon­don His­to­ri­ans Twit­ter account:

For Fuck's sake Fuller's. What's wrong with you?

With a few days to absorb and reflect we’re still feel­ing dis­ap­point­ed, despite com­men­tary from those who argue that Asahi aren’t the worst, that it’s a vote of con­fi­dence of cask, and so on. It still feels as if some­one you thought was a pal has betrayed you.

We know this is com­plete­ly irra­tional, busi­ness is gonna busi­ness, and so on and so forth, but we kid­ded our­selves (or were seduced into?) think­ing Fuller’s was a bit dif­fer­ent.

Of course the signs were all there (the lack of respect for Chiswick Bit­ter, for exam­ple, in favour of any­thing they could slap SESSION IPA on) but there were pos­i­tive indi­ca­tors too – sure­ly if they were going to sell up they’d have done it in 1963, or 1982, or… And why the inter­est in old recipes, in col­lab­o­ra­tions and so on, if there wasn’t some kind of sen­ti­men­tal attach­ment to the idea of the fam­i­ly busi­ness, her­itage and beer?

Odd­ly, when the news broke, we were eat­ing break­fast in a Fuller’s hotel-pub, and it seemed that the staff were as bewil­dered as us. As cus­tomers asked them for their views, they polite­ly mut­tered, “We don’t know much about it, I’m afraid.” They appeared to be read­ing news web­sites and social media to work out what was going on in the com­pa­ny they work for.

We made a point of going into a cou­ple more Fuller’s pubs over the course of the week­end, like mourn­ers clutch­ing at mem­o­ries of the recent­ly deceased. The beer tast­ed as good as ever – bet­ter, in fact, espe­cial­ly the stuff badged as Dark Star and Gale’s. Again, staff seemed on edge, in one case open­ly snap­ping at a beer bore who insist­ed on lec­tur­ing them about Asahi and how the takeover would ruin the beer.

It’s worth not­ing, by the way, that this was being talked about in sev­er­al pubs we vis­it­ed, includ­ing one non-Fuller’s pub, all of them, we’d have said, ‘out­side the bub­ble’. Peo­ple have heard of Fuller’s and were inter­est­ed in this news, which got cov­ered heav­i­ly in the main­stream press.

From a cou­ple of sources, it became clear the brew­ing staff were in shock, too. Head brew­er Georgina Young:

It was a long and very emotional day.

Here’s what one Fuller’s employ­ee said to us in a pri­vate mes­sage on Sat­ur­day:

I wish I knew more – we all found out yes­ter­day… It’s a ratio­nal busi­ness deci­sion but a dev­as­tat­ing one for beer. If we are not inde­pen­dent, what’s the point? What do we still rep­re­sent? All this stuff about brands and growth is pret­ty mean­ing­less to Fuller’s cus­tomers who will just be pissed off.

Maybe this will not dam­age the beer in the long run, who knows. We’re aware it’s a con­tro­ver­sial view but we’ve been real­ly enjoy­ing Young’s recent­ly, iron­i­cal­ly in lots of Young’s‑branded pubs where the aver­age punter prob­a­bly doesn’t realise the brands and the pubs part­ed com­pa­ny years ago. We’d cer­tain­ly be quite hap­py to walk into pubs and find cask ESB along­side Pil­sner Urquell. (And Fron­tier Craft Lager hurled into the skip of his­to­ry.)

What we do wor­ry about is those hid­den gems – the non-flag­ship back­street pubs in West Lon­don where grey paint and fake ghost signs have yet to take hold, and which still feel vague­ly like booz­ers. They’re either going to get trashed, or ditched, aren’t they?

And we wor­ry about whether this means Fuller’s, as a brew­ery, will stag­nate. What will moti­vate dis­en­fran­chised staff to try new things, or throw them­selves into reviv­ing old recipes? It’s been hard to find Lon­don Porter in any for­mat for a cou­ple of years – will this final­ly kill it off for good, along with poor old Chiswick? Look at Mean­time: the qual­i­ty or the core beer may be good, but the breadth of the offer is now dis­tress­ing­ly bland.

All that’s kept us going into Fuller’s flag­ship pla­s­ticky, faux-posh cor­po­rate pubs for the past decade is the beer. We go to the Old Fish Mar­ket in Bris­tol because we crave that dis­tinc­tive yeast char­ac­ter once in a while, not for the brand­ed cof­fee and gin expe­ri­ence in sur­round­ings that resem­ble a hotel lob­by.

We don’t know how this will turn out. We’re not going to boy­cott Fuller’s. We’re not ‘but­thurt’. But some­thing in the rela­tion­ship has changed, and we will prob­a­bly end up drink­ing less Fuller’s beer with­out think­ing much about it.

News Pubs and Old Favourites #1: The Forester, Ealing

We spent the gap between Christmas and New Year in West London, on the hunt for Proper Pubs. Four stood out and we’re going to give each one its own post.

Jess first vis­it­ed the Forester in North­fields, Eal­ing, in 2016, dur­ing research for 20th Cen­tu­ry Pub, and has been try­ing to get Ray there ever since. It’s of aca­d­e­m­ic inter­est, being built in 1909 as an ear­ly Improved Pub to a design by Now­ell-Parr, and retain­ing a mul­ti-room lay­out with lots of peri­od details.

It also hap­pens to be a sub­ur­ban back­street cor­ner pub – our cur­rent favourite thing. As we approached, it peeked into view between the cor­ner shops and ter­raced hous­es, like a steam­punk cruise ship at berth.

It’s a Fuller’s pub, too, which means touch­es of the cor­po­rate, but not to an oppres­sive degree. It helps that the light is kept low and (not to every­one’s taste, we know) the music loud, so every table feels like its own warm bub­ble.

The Forester, Ealing -- interior.

The locals seemed well-to-do with­out being posh, sink­ing beer and gin, and throw­ing out the odd rau­cous joke: “Bloody hell! When you bent over then, Steve… Either you’re wear­ing a black thong or you for­got to wipe your arse.”

They ignored par­ties of out­siders – a group of what we took for pro­fes­sion­al foot­ballers on tour, all design­er shirts and hair prod­uct; a trio of twen­tysome­things, appar­ent­ly from the mid­dle east, when-in-Rome-ing with pints of Guin­ness – with­out appar­ent mal­ice.

The beer was excel­lent, too – Fuller’s as Fuller’s should be served, gleam­ing and bril­liant beneath clean arc­tic foam. The ESB in par­tic­u­lar was hard to resist, demand­ing to be treat­ed like a ses­sion beer, which maybe it is at Christ­mas.

We made time to vis­it twice dur­ing a four-night trip, which should tell you some­thing. You might find it worth a detour next time you’re in Lon­don.

News, Nuggets & Longreads 24 March 2018: Glitter, Ilford, AK

Here’s everything we’ve read about beer and pubs in the last week that excited us enough to hit the bookmark button, from glitter beer to Kölsch.

And what a week it’s been – a pos­i­tive flood of inter­est­ing writ­ing, lots of it on the hefty side. We’ll nev­er work out the rhythms. It’s just odd that some weeks we post five links and think, well, that’s it, we’re done, and then on oth­er occa­sions… Well, brace your­self.

Madeleine McCarthy (L) and Lee Hedgmon holding glasses of glitter beer.

First, a sto­ry we did­n’t expect to care about but which did some­thing inter­est­ing: it actu­al­ly changed our minds. Glit­ter beer is the lat­est Oh, Sil­ly Craft Beer! trend, easy to dis­miss out of hand, but Jeff Alworth made the effort to go and try some and was won over:

What you can’t appre­ci­ate from still pho­tos is that glit­ter expos­es how dynam­ic a beer is. The tiny flecks ride the cur­rents in bands and whorls, fol­low­ing the con­vec­tion of released car­bon diox­ide or the motion of the drinker’s hand. As you look down into the glass, you see it roil and churn. It’s riv­et­ing. Beyond that, imag­ine drink­ing a green, shim­mer­ing Bel­gian tripel and try­ing to make it track to the taste of, say, West­malle. It’s an object les­son in how much appear­ance fac­tors into our men­tal for­mu­la­tion of “fla­vor.” The slight breadi­ness and vivid effer­ves­cence have fused in my mind with the qual­i­ties that define a tripel; look­ing at Lee’s beer, I was forced to go back to the basics of what my palate could tell me.

We’re not say­ing we now des­per­ate­ly want to drink a glass of spark­ly pale ale but if we see one on sale, we’ll def­i­nite­ly try it, which is not what we’d have said last Sat­ur­day. Con­tin­ue read­ing “News, Nuggets & Lon­greads 24 March 2018: Glit­ter, Ilford, AK