I Echo What Tyson Says

After a hectic day which included a visit to a far off world to judge a pub in the Greater Manchester Pub of the Year competition, I thought I'd come home a write up a few lines on our own Pub of the Year, the Hare and Hounds at Holcombe Brook near Bury, well Ramsbottom, which is near Bury. But I find that newshound and beerhound Tyson has beaten me to it, so I'll have to think of something else. Tyson had complained to me earlier last night about me stealing his thunder when we went to the American Beer Festival preview at the Port St Beer House, so I suppose that's all fair enough.

The pub is the current runner up as Publican Cask Ale Pub of the Year to none other than the Sheffield Tap (so it must be good - right?) and previously has won the award outright.  I can only echo as Tyson recommends, that you should indeed visit the Hare and Hounds for top quality cask beer.

None of that flabby, over vented, warm stuff is offered and the beer is all around £2.60 a pint.

Beer of the night was Oakham Inferno. It didn't last long.

Flagship Pubs (2)

I grew up to the shrill of the steam whistle and the unmistakable chuff-chuffing as mighty engines took the strain a mere 30 or so feet from my bedroom. As a child I could open my window and look down on the throbbing black beasts directly below me. I breathed in the steam, I watched the sparks fly and vicariously I drove these trains. I knew the engine drivers and they knew me, at least by waving. I lived in a station house, directly above the down line. Railways are in my blood. I come from a railway family. As a result, railway stations, journeys and refreshment rooms are always exciting to me.

So, it was with eager anticipation we met with our CAMRA crowd to visit Sheffield and of course, the Sheffield Tap. Now Sheffield itself, approached from the north at least, is an oddity. From Manchester Piccadilly the train wends through the third main line in the UK, the Central Mainline. The scenery through South Cheshire, Derbyshire and South Yorkshire is spectacular with towering hills on each side and sheep grazing peacefully. This is rugged hill farming territory and it covers most of the 40 odd miles to Sheffield, which suddenly and unexpected appears from nowhere. A big city just shouts "Boo" and is there.

Sheffield Station has had a modern makeover like many and looks fantastic. It may not have steam, but you still get the same thrill of being in a big station, a focal point, a place where people travel with hope and one with a bonus. That bonus is the Sheffield Tap, directly on Platform 1a. We poured in as one and found places to sit while looking round. It has been described before in various places and possibly to my mind a little inaccurately. I'd thought it would be small, but even without the second room, it isn't. The layout is thoughtful and it has that most welcoming of things, a long bar. Thornbridge beers dominate and that's fine with me. The parade of pumpclips revealed rather a lot I hadn't heard of, never mind tried. I tried a couple of the guests which were both good, but hardly memorable, but really I was teasing myself. Thornbridge is rightly the start of this show. Chiron was the beer, a beautiful balance of malt and hops, with citrussy tangerine, peach and juicy malt. Another great beer from a great brewer. Of course Kipling and Jaipur had to be sampled too and pulled through a tight sparkler and in perfect nick, this was a dangerous situation. So many great beers in great form. Perfect. It really was a pleasure to see so many Thornbridge beers all at once.

So is it good? An unequivocal "yes". The staff are attentive and chatty, the place buzzes and has the excitement of the transitory mixed with the permanent. In addition to the many handpumps (I didn't count them) there is a great bottle selection (though with the cask and foreign draft selection including the wonderful Bernard range, why would you bother?) And its on a station, so what's not to like?

Finally is it a pub or a bar? Not that it matters in the end, but it is a pub. Most certainly.

We got there around 12.20. Needless to say, Tyson was already there with his acolytes. Another tradition.

Flagship Pubs (1)

My first ever cask ale was consumed in the Bon Accord in Glasgow back in 1974. I can't say it was an Damascan conversion to the real thing. The grip of keg beer was too strong and cask ale in the West of Scotland at that time was as rare as a brass monkey's bollocks. It still is to all intents and purposes. The Bon Accord was not the only outlet for cask in Glasgow then, but it was by far the best. Over thirty years later, though changed inside, it probably still is.

I was in Glasgow at the weekend and of course when we left the train, I and an equally thirsty E nipped straight into the Horseshoe Bar in Drury Lane. Now this is a classic pub , with its patter, bustling atmosphere, vertical drinking and slick service, as well as its value meals. In cask ale terms it lags however. The offerings tend to lack lustre in both selection and quality. E got the better of the deal with her half of Deuchars, though you are painfully aware that if you have to praise Deuchars, you are deep in the doodah beer wise. My pint of some other nameless Caledonian brewed fluid could not be finished.

On the way to Queen St station, there is one other pub, the Standing Order, a JDW offering in a massive former banking hall. I quite like it, not solely because I can gaze wistfully on blown up photos of the banknotes of my youth, but for its buzz and the sheer chutzpah of its size. The quality of the beer however suffers from the copious volumes of Tennent's Lager and John Smith's swooped down. E declined, wisely as it turned out, to partake of any of the numerous dark offerings. My pint of Houston Warlock Stout was so tart and bitter that I wondered whether it was off or not. I just couldn't tell, but either way I couldn't finish it. Two pints in a row with undrunk beer left on the bar. Not a great score.

On the way back the next day, we stopped off at Charing Cross and headed over the deafeningly busy motorway undercroft, past the magnificent Mitchell Library and into the Bon Accord. It felt right, with gleaming brass handpumps, a gantry glittering with rare whiskies, a cornucopia of selection and eager bar staff. Our choices were both English. First up, the excellent pale and hoppy Bradfield Farmer's Blonde and then, E's preferred tipple, York Tettnang, which was clean, spicy and peppery. Both were very moreish and bursting with condition, so we did the decent thing and had some more, until the 17.40 from Glasgow Central nagged at us insistently to get moving. I know some complain about the hefty £3 a pint price, but for beer of this quality that you could not only finish but enjoy, it seemed a small price to pay.

Now here I have to say that a flagship pub and a classic pub are not the same thing, but if you'll indulge me, we'll save the "classic pub " argument for another time. What makes a flagship pub is a moot point, but they all tend to have several factors in common. I would venture that they are considered "best of class", a "mustn't miss" and they are renowned for choice, quality, service and dependability. They will sparkle inside, be warm and welcoming and be the sort of place to which other pubs ought to aspire. If part of a brewery, chain or group, it will be the one they are most proud of.

Of course not all pubs can be flagships, but all, like the Bon Accord, can strive to be quality places to go to. It is a pity so comparatively few seem to have even that modest ambition.

The mission statements on the pub's web site are exemplary too.