Watch Out for Wednesday

Thursday is the new Friday some would have you believe - well, especially for those that work from home for part of the week. The logic is, if you can get away with it, that if at all possible, you don't work Friday and Monday. This makes sense, of course, as you then get a longer - much longer - weekend as it were, as you don't have that pesky journey to and from work.

Now I have a feeling that while this applies across the board in the UK, the effect is more acutely felt in London. Not only is there a greater concentration of workers, but almost uniquely, most still travel to work by public transport and are thus more likely to have a soothing libation after it.  I may be wrong, but I rather fancy that many journeys to work outside London are made by car and certainly in the dog days of work for me, after work drinking simply did not happen and that can only have got worse since then.  In London, however, the after work pint still occurs, and I always enjoy being there at work chucking out time for the bustling atmosphere.

A couple of weeks ago we were in London for the first time in ages - well last October - and after visiting some quite busy pubs on Tuesday night, on Wednesday I met my pal Nigel for a couple of lunchtime pints and a chance to put the beer world to rights. For convenience, we met at Woodins Shades, a Nicolsons pub across from Liverpool Street station. This was around late lunchtime, and it was fair to say that the pub was very quiet indeed. In fact, Nigel remarked that he used to work in the vicinity years ago and then the pub was always full at lunchtime. Not so now, it seems. 

Two or three pints later, after Nigel departed to his Cask Marque duties, I arranged to meet E nearer our neck of the woods. You get decent if expensive pints in the Culpepper, a quite posh and very attractive pub in Commercial Street, a ten-minute walk away from Liverpool Street. It has become quite a favourite of ours. I got there about half past three. It was deserted, and I remarked on this to the barman, who cryptically said it wouldn't be for long. He wasn't kidding. Within half an hour the pub was getting reasonably busy, and within an hour, by half past four or thereabouts, it was rammed.  

Fortunately, I had sat on a bench and was able to squeeze E in, as by the time she arrived, it was standing room only - and it isn't a particularly small pub.So what's going on? It seems, from what I can glean, that most businesses require workers to be in the office for a certain number of days in the week if working from home. It also appears that the day most choose to be in work is Wednesday, so if you want to go to the pub for after work chat and see your colleagues, Wednesday is the best day for it.

In these difficult times, working from home does pubs no favours, but this at least offers a glimmer of light if it is repeated elsewhere. Elsewhere in London, that is.

We also visited the new(ish) Aldgate Tap, which is dead handy for us. It seemed to be trading well on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. It must help, it being so close to Aldgate Tube Station. Prices here are decent for London.

Talking about pricing. London is never cheap, but we noticed how much more expensive it was since our previous visit in October last year. I think the cask beer in the Culpepper had risen by the best part of a pound.

Busy or Not?

Recently there's been a fair bit of talk on Twitter and the blogosphere- does that still exist? - about how pubs are faring in January. Of course, most of this will be observational and anecdotal, and impressions given on, say a Friday night, may not give the full picture of how things would look at 4 p.m. on a Tuesday, but that is the nature of the beast.  Even if you know the landlord or landlady well, they are hardly going to share their financial position with you, though if you know them well enough, you can certainly gain a touch more than if you just throw your head round the door and glance round.

My own view kind of echoes that of Boak and Bailey, and my general impression is that customer numbers and spend, is generally holding up fairly well, but on the negative side, outgoings for supplies and fuel may well be not only cancelling this out, but will in a great deal more cases than we'd like to believe, actually throw them into a negative situation. My own discussions with a few pubs would indicate that the cost of heating is really the main concern. After all, nobody wants to visit a freezing cold pub and heating a pub in the quiet times is quite a burden nowadays, hence the huge variation in opening hours that we commonly see.

Of course, this will ease as the weather gets better, but the big question, especially for those whose leases are up for renewal, is "Is it really worth it any more?" Looking at pub closures, some of them sudden and unexpected, the answer is, for far too many, likely a "No". While relief in the form of warmer weather is there for all, the sad truth is that looking forward there is quite possibly more of the same, as the war in Ukraine rages on and the fallout from that continues to affect economies. That, together with a reduction of fuel support for small businesses from the Governments, does not make soldiering on such an attractive proposition. Cold weather, sooner or later, is inevitable.

Another elephant in the room is price increases, though with the price of a pint being roughly equivalent to the length of a piece of string, that may not in the end matter quite so much as you might think. This varies of course, and while you are unlikely to have a clear idea ahead of time in a random visit to a city centre pub as to what a pint might cost you, it is much more noticeable in tied houses of local brewers for example, where the price of a pint is clearly known.  In my own locals, people often  approach the bar clutching their exact money and are acutely aware of increases. That doesn't happen so much in a free house, where, frankly, you could be charged anything at all. The dynamic is completely different.

So, back to the anecdotal evidence.  In the pubs I visited, last week, all were fairly busy, though in fairness, most were my local pubs, all with a loyal batch of regulars  - and that's as I'd expect. When you have a local that you are known in and where you know everyone, at least to nod to, you are likely to visit as usual, though of course, you may have the odd pint less.  I was also out of area on Saturday, in Bolton attending a meeting. Afterwards we visited a couple of pubs. The first, the Northern Monkey, a modern pub selling craft beer, was very busy indeed, as was the Wetherspoons opposite, the Spinning Mule, which could best be described as "rammed". I'm guessing the prices would be pretty dissimilar, though I can't be sure, as it wasn't my round in either. My final visit was to the ever popular Hare and Hounds in Shudehill, where the pub was pretty well stuffed as usual. That of course is expected from this venue, and this is a good point to add my usual advice to pubs. Concentrate on the offer. If it is good, even in hard times, people will come.

Where does this leave us? Pubs may seem to the casual observer, to be holding up pretty well, but the underlying issues remain. They still need our custom, but we should always be aware, that like the iceberg, what you see on the surface, is only a fraction of what is actually there.

I had a chocolate and orange stout in the Northern Monkey. Boy was it sweet.  I'm noticing rather a lot of beers are far too sweet these days. Give me bitterness in beer. Beer needs balance, and that often can't be achieved just by throwing in certain New World hops.

My three locals will also be increasing prices at the end of the month as the cost of beer from the brewery increases. I'll be keeping my eye on that, but I suspect that won't make much difference.

Belfast Pubs - The Conclusion

Following on from E's bout of sickness, we did the touristy bit. The Titanic Experience isn't just about the ship, but about Belfast. Suffice to say, it was brilliant, especially the "ghost train" trip of the shipyard with accompanying sounds.  You need to go there really to see what I mean - and very worthwhile it is, too. There was also entertainment on the bus back to the centre. Belfast's buses still have inspectors and as tickets must be purchased before entering the bus, it follows that spot checks are made.  Now they aren't soft enough to wait with the crowds at the Titanic bus stop, nor the one after, but a posse swooped at an obscure stop in the middle of nowhere. We were fine, of course, being old and law-abiding, but a young lad by us was frantically thumbing his phone as the inspector made his way toward him. "Too late for that" remarked the inspector as he asked for the lad's ticket.  Oddly, the fare dodger seemed to relax at this point - on a fair cop basis, I assume.  His details were obtained and, a fine of sixty pounds, was rammed up his arse. The inspector added insult to injury as he left, calling over his shoulder, "£60, plus the fare!"

This kept us entertained until we reached the City Centre.  E was still feeling crook, but gamely came along with me to the Crown Liquor Saloon, where I obtained us a booth and a very creditable pint of Oakham Citra. E stuck to tonic water. For my second pint, I noticed that they sold Belfast Black Stout by Whitewater Brewery.  I ordered one and this proved to be a very wise decision. Smooth, black, hoppy, and not at all cardboardy - Guinness to note. We were joined in our booth by a lad from Dublin and his young son, who had escaped from a family shopping trip, as the boy was hungry. He assumed I was drinking Guinness and expressed surprise at my choice. I assured him it was a very decent pint, but he looked doubtful.  We chatted amiably, though, as his son devoured sausage and chips. A very pleasant chat ensued as we agreed Belfast was a fine place. Alas, a third pint was denied as E felt a bit tired after her sleepless night, and fancied two or three hours kip before our booked meal later by the University.

We hopped on the bus and soon E was tucked into bed. This gave me a chance to nip out onto Botanic Avenue, as I'd spotted a couple of drinking establishments there. First was The 1852. Not my normal sort of bar, but it was laid back and had a few younger types idling around and some gentle music. I sat people watching with a pint of Open Gate Citra IPA, which while nothing spectacular was fine in the circumstances. Service was pleasant, and while I wasn't in a place where I'd meet someone to chat to, I enjoyed it so much, surprising myself, I actually took E there later on that night after our meal.  Just up the road - I didn't want to stray too far - was a place that looked fine, so in I went. It was a large modern bar with what looked like a full size cherry blossom tree behind the bar. It was rather stunning. I don't know what it was called, as it seemed anonymous outside. See Street View to get my point.  There was football on and again, Citra IPA, so chatting to this one and that one, a pleasant hour passed until I returned to the hotel. A bit different for me, but not worse for that - and very relaxing.

We met friends the next day at the Deer's Head, a brewpub, with very well-made beer in the modern style. That is hazy, but there wasn't lumps in it and we thoroughly enjoyed it, except for the slightly aggressive servers, the 10% surcharge for table service that we didn't want, and a complete refusal to split the bill between two of us.  We decanted after that to the friendly John Hewitt, an old-fashioned bar with very modern beers from Ireland and the UK. I'd certainly go back there. 

The next day we returned home, but we had a hour or so to kill before the bus to the airport, so were first equal customers into Robinsons Bar, where we had our first pints. I ordered a Harp just because I could, and it was really rather good. Clean and bitter and very enjoyable, I necked a couple while watching more football. E was back on tonic, and we nattered to one of the bar staff, who simply came over for a chat. Great stuff. And that was it. A quick bus trip to the airport where, suffice to say, the Harp there - all locally brewed beers were off - wasn't as good as the Robinsons one.

So to sum up. Belfast was great for pubs, beer and touristy things.  It would have been even better if E was 100%, but fine nonetheless. The people were fabulous on the whole and I'd go back in a heartbeat.  Guinness was, I think, just about the most popular beer. Best pub overall? Robinsons.  Professional, friendly and in my opinion the best Guinness I had.

I realise we only scratched the surface of Belfast's pubs. Next time I'll dive deeper.  We did other things too. The Ulster Museum, Botanic Park and the Universities, the Palm House and Town Hall.  Lots of walking about - Belfast centre is pretty flat.

Best beer? Probably Capstan Aussie Pale by Bell's Brewery at the Deer's Head, but oddly, the Harp at Robinsons hit the spot pretty well too.

The Duke of York and Bittles Bar

I used to collect breweriana - the bits and pieces that breweries produce as advertising material - and still have a fair few items, though nowadays I no longer seek to increase my hoard. I do though maintain my interest in the stuff, Thus, I looked forward to the Duke of York in Belfast, which is renowned for a collection of mainly Irish brewery mirrors and other assorted paraphernalia. The pub itself is in a sort of wide cobbled alley. Inside it was warm and welcoming and really quite busy.  We got our beers - Guinness again - and found a seat to the right of the bar (or left if you are behind it) where we could see what was going on, always a prime consideration for me. The Guinness was fine as far as it goes, but it was no contest to the main attraction for me. Quite simply, every bit of wall, ceiling, door and window was covered in breweriana, mainly from Guinness, but as my eyes adjusted, also signs and enamels from defunct Irish breweries, some Scottish and English ones and breweries such as Bass that had brewed beer in Belfast. (As an aside, I have a Bass Belfast clock and yes - it still works.)

In addition to the main room with the bar, there is a further room which, fortunately, was quieter, while also having similar covering on every space.  It could just about be said to concentrate on mirrors, with some fantastic brewery and whiskey examples - some very rare I assume - as well as many other fine examples of collectables. I'd venture many are worth a bob or two.  The wall across from us, could possibly be said to major on clocks, mainly from Guinness, though there were plenty of other items of interest. In fact, my sole Guinness clock had one of its brethren opposite us and though ours still works - somewhat temperamentally it has to be said - the clocks here certainly did not.  All, or most seemed to be lit though, and while I wandered round to have a look, it was a great frustration that I could not examine them at my leisure. Firstly there were people enjoying their drinks in the way and secondly there just wasn't time. I really must return at opening for a proper examination, though frankly, to give it its place, I'd need several hours.

It really was a fabulous pub with a pleasant atmosphere and a nice buzz about it, but we had another pub to go to and left with a fair bit of regret.

A half mile or so walk took us to Bittles Bar. This is one of these flat iron bars where it is at the point of two streets.  It is a kind of Tardis in reverse, in that it looks bigger on the outside than it does inside. It also has a bit of reputation for quirky rules and an idiosyncratic landlord.  It really is small inside.  We were greeted at the door and asked how many of us there were. The reason became quickly apparent, as it seemed very full, but our guide/waiter/barman found us a perch, and we ordered our Guinness.  Now they don't serve half pints, so pints it was.  We took in our surroundings. Many paintings of poets, politicians and other characters adorned the walls. There was a lovely buzz of conversation, and indeed, not a spare seat in the house. It is table service only here. In fact getting near the bar to see what is sold is difficult, as somewhat uniquely, to use every foot of space, there are three tables in front of the bar.  No bar blocking here and little chance to see what is being sold, but I suppose you could just ask.

The quirkiness of the place can be seen on various signs at the bar. A tongue in cheek (or perhaps not) one advises that due to Brexit, Guinness cannot be sold in halves. Another strictly advises "No human rights! No football."  It is highly recommended.

We ordered second pints, then things went wrong. E had been a little quiet and whispered that she wasn't feeling too well.  Oh. I'd been ill the day before, but it has passed. It seemed though I'd passed the bug on to E.  She had to get back to the hotel. Bravely, I supped what I could, and we left and rushed back to the hotel, where E spent the rest of the evening - it was around ten by then - and overnight throwing up.

Fortunately such bugs, while unpleasant, soon pass and the next day, E was much improved, though she didn't drink anything alcoholic. These things happen, and we just made the best of it that we could.

Bittles apparently sells 700 pints of Guinness a day and, according to the Guinness Guru (caution advised), has the best Guinness in Belfast. We enjoyed the visit and were treated very well indeed, though the famous landlord wasn't there.

That proved to be my last pint of Guinness of the trip. I'd given it a good go, but frankly, it is still a distress purchase for me. 

 Click on any photo to enlarge.

The Sunflower and the Northern Whig

After our earlier pint in Robinsons Bar, we set off for the Sunflower, the only pub on my list which is in the current Good Beer Guide and the furthest away from where we were. Oh, and yes, for once, I had a list. Now don't let that get you too excited, I didn't take notes of course, or even have the means to do so.  I'm not that keen, you know.  The walk took us away from the City Centre and into a somewhat run-down area. Nothing dodgy at all, but not exactly picturesque. The Sunflower was tucked down a backstreet and brightly lit, so, along with the security cage from the days of the Troubles, you could hardly miss it. My photo here was crap, but you'll get the picture here.

We were both rather surprised by how small inside it was, though I think there are other rooms elsewhere in the building. The pub had a neighbourhood character, and despite it being rather empty, it had a fairly cosy feel, though the welcome from the young staff was less than warm - probably in fact the poorest we were to have in our entire visit.  The sole handpump did not have Hilden beers as promised by the GBG, but something mainstream. I certainly didn't come all the way from GB to drink Shepherd Neame Whitstable Bay, so given that the other draught beers were pretty mundane, I opted for Beamish, which is sold in preference to the Big G. It was fine as far as it goes, but as the pub started to fill up with studenty lot, we decided to move on.  On the whole, a tad disappointing, though we did strike up a decent conversation with a fellow imbiber, which was good, as he mentioned a few worthwhile boozers to visit.

Our next intended visit was the Duke of York, but on the way, I was struck by a building we were passing. Who could resist a name like the Northern Whig? Certainly not this writer, so in we went. The building itself was constructed in 1821 in Bridge Street, as a hotel and gentleman's club, taking its name from an original club of the same name. Inside it is a cornucopia of marble and dark wood, with comfortable chairs and a huge bar up some steps.  It reeks of Victorian confidence and certainty. The impressive reddish brown wooden bar fronted an impressive array of bottles, but featured mainly local lagers and ales on keg and, of course, Guinness, which we opted for.  Sadly this was a fairly ordinary representation of the beer. On a quiet Tuesday night though, it was still a worthwhile experience for the building itself, which was fantastic. We agreed we'd have loved to see it rammed, which I am sure it would be later in the week.

But back to business. This was a Guinness night - more or less -  and we were on our way to two more top venues, passing the impressive Harp on the way. I'd have liked to nip in for one, but alas, time did not permit, and anyway E has only a limited tolerance for pub hopping.

What would we find in the Duke of York and the much lauded and anticipated Bittles Bar? Find out soon though, but as a spoiler, the night was about to take a turn for the worse.

There was a fridge full of cans in the fridge at the Sunflower, but they were on their side with the bottoms facing outwards and no obvious list.  Anyway, I don't visit pubs to drink canned beer. 

As another aside, Belfast is pretty compact and easily done on foot, though I tried my knackered knee's patience with over 16,500 steps. For context, that is of course what Retired Martin does between ticks on the same street.

In a Neat Little Town

Many years ago when I was working, for a couple of years, I used to visit Belfast probably once a month or so.  I remember then that Special Branch paid a fair bit of attention to travellers, and at Manchester Airport, I was asked more than once for my reason for visiting.  "Business - Government business" was my answer.  I was quick to add that it was Social Security business and that was that. No such problems at Manchester Airport now, but I still find it fun, when asked about why I went to Belfast, to tell people that I used to advise the Northern Ireland Government. Well, I did, but it sounds a lot less impressive when I reveal that it was about how to integrate NI and GB Social Security computer systems.

So, last month we went for a few nights, just for pleasure and in my book, that was going to be trying out a few more pubs than I was able to visit then. Back in the day, my visits to pubs were fairly few and confined, more or less, to those that were near the famous Excelsior Hotel, where I usually stayed. This time, we stayed in a nice hotel in the Botanic area and as we walked from the bus station towards it, I was pleased to note that Great Northern Tower, where I worked, was still there and right next door to the famous Europa Hotel. I didn't remember it being quite so close, though opposite was the Crown Liquor Saloon, which I did.

After checking in, we set off to get the feel of the place and to visit a few pubs, more of which later.  But for now, I'll just mention one or two differences between Nornireland pubs and those in GB. Firstly, they just seem more professionally run. Most of the bar staff aren't teenagers with a combined inability to look you in the eye and the attention span of a gnat, but older men and women who clearly regard bar work as a profession. In short, the service was almost universally great, as was the conversational nature of the transactions.  The pubs varied a lot, but were clean, warm and welcoming. Not exactly like GB pubs, more like in Ireland, without a telly on every vertical surface.

Now what about the beer? Well, you won't be surprised that Guinness is pretty much the leading drink there.  I was though, a little surprised at the lack of imported brands, although there were a few (mostly lagers) from Ireland.  Some from GB of course and surprisingly few local beers at first glance, though I suspect the major brewers have much of the taps tied in one way or another. We started off in Robinsons, a fine big boozer next to the Crown Liquor Saloon. Our choice? Well, Guinness of course - you have to for your first at least don't you, and this was a fine example of what I regard as a pretty unimpressive beer. I had learned before I went there that the gas mix in Ireland - presumably including the North too - is a 75/25 nitrogen to CO2, whereas in GB it is 70/30, making for a less creamy and smooth pint than in Ireland. The atmosphere was good and late on a Tuesday afternoon, the pub was busy with a constant stream of people nipping in for one after work.  

Now I'll return to other pubs in my next post, but my final two observations are one particular one and one more general. Aren't the people there just lovely?  Everyone was so helpful and pleasant, from bar staff to bus inspectors - yes they still have them there  - and  a finer body of ladies and gentlemen you couldn't wish to meet unless you were a fare dodger of course, which we weren't.

And the last point? Belfast City Centre was pretty much like any other British City Centre. If you think it might feel a bit Irish - well, not to my eyes.

Next up Bittles Bar - Did we get thrown out for requesting a half pint?

There are some smashing restaurants around in Belfast too.  Together with great pubs, loads to see and do, and of course, the Titanic Experience, I recommend it highly.

It Really Was That Good

It is often said that the best beer you have is not necessarily the best tasting, or the most technically competent, or even a combination of these two and other factors such as place and company - and that is very true. An ordinary beer in extraordinary company, or during a fantastic experience, will be remembered far longer than even a top quality beer, especially if the circumstances of that imbibing were themselves pretty unremarkable. Now this isn't of course a hard and fast rule, being more a rule of thumb, which generally applies. In other words, there are exceptions when the outstanding is remembered in a fairly mundane situation.

Thus, last Thursday, I was out with a pal in Manchester. Our respective lasses were imbibing with the Manchester CAMRA ladies, and we felt it incumbent upon us to provide moral support - albeit from a respectable distance. So we met in the City Arms Manchester, a neat little two-roomed pub in the centre, the pal being a regular there. Seemingly they have the Mankley equivalent of a stammtisch (local's table) there, but it wasn't mentioned by him, who has the entitlement, and I wasn't aware of that fact until much later. We therefore sat at a table of my choosing in the back room, after getting our drinks at the crowded bar. But I digress.

Now the bar was busy with the late lunchtime crowd when we got there, and we couldn't see the pumpclips for the lager drinkers standing at the bar - lager drinkers always do this - and you can't readily see the chalkboard in the back room either - stammtisch under it apparently - so seeing a Thornbridge beer, I went for it. Ruby Mild seemed a good choice. I bought it then, when the barman had a moment, I asked him the strength. "6.5%" quoth he.  Well, there was a reasonably long session ahead, so in for a penny etc. Wow.  What a beer.  This ruby tinted dark mild beer was spicy, mouth filling, luscious, fruity, complex and more. It was just gorgeous. No. It was quite simply stunning. So after singing its praises, and savouring it, I had another and would probably have had more if I hadn't had someone wiser than me with me. 

We left for our next pub with me still getting over how good this was.  On the way we bumped into a certain fellow CAMRA Chairman* and I was effusive in my praise of it. I urged him to deviate from his chosen path to try it. But I have the feeling my sage advice was disregarded as he was on a different mission.  We went on our way to other beers and fine though they were, I was still in thrall to Wilder's Folly.

So now that the moment has passed and I have gained a little perspective, what do I think of it? Am I still starstruck by it?  Yes. Without a doubt, it is the best cask conditioned beer I have had this year.

It was called Wilder's Folly and  is a collaboration between Thornbridge and Double-Barrelled Brewery.  According to Dominic Driscoll, brewer at Thornbridge, it was chock-full of invert sugar.  That presumably helped with both strength and mouthfeel.  You can buy it here, but I somehow doubt if the can will ever reach the peak of cask conditioning that gave me such a great drinking experience, so well done City Arms too.

*It was John Clarke, hot footing it to drink a tap takeover by Kernal at Cafe Beeermoth.  The photo was nicked from @BeerFinderGeneral, who gives it equal praise though was cheeky about CAMRA.  I couldn't get near the bar to photo it.

Why Is This a Thing?

 On Wednesday, my car was going in for its service and MoT, and it had to be there early. So, duly dropped off at the garage just after a quarter to eight, I could either walk home - twerly for my bus pass - or better still get some brekkie.  It was also perishing, and I'd already spent a bitterly cold quarter of a cold hour defrosting the car, so cups of tea were my priority and as our local JDW was just opening as I walked past, unlimite
d refills beckoned.

Despite me being there on the dot of eight, a couple of other hopefuls were in, but I was first to the bar to place my tea order. The other two were separately selecting their usual prime positions by the windows. My main concern was to get my tea and a seat as far away as possible from the icy blast emanating from the door, so no issues there. The pub started to fill up with faces I recognised from previous visits. Seats were carefully selected and greetings exchanged. I got the odd "Good Morning" too as I warmed up with cups of Tetley. The next half hour passed serenely enough, punctuated only by the odd gale of laughter from the staff breakfasting near the bar.

However, the pace quickened up as the witching hour of nine o'clock approached. I'd moved on to breakfast by then. The usual JDW fare, but it was fine and certainly warmed me up. A few workmen, in for some snap, were added to the regulars who were by now folding newspapers and checking watches. The atmosphere was getting a little more tense as they approached the bar on the dot of nine.  Now in the past my observations were that the John Smiths would flow, but alas, not now.  That is no longer available, and it seems that the replacement,  Worthington Creamflow, does not hit that sacred spot. No, Stella seemed now to be the drink of choice, though one outlier was on Stowford Press Cider.

Now here's the odd bit. Several - well three of the punters including Mr Stowford - returned to their spot alone at their chosen table with two pints each. These were carefully placed in front of them. Why?  Why would you buy two pints for yourself at once in a rather quiet pub, first thing in the morning? I've noticed this before, but not only in the Middleton JDW, but all over the country. I remember, in Nottingham I think it was, a geezer returning from the bar at 9 a.m.with two bottles of Newcastle Brown - as if one wasn't already too many - and elsewhere too, this seems to happen.

So Dear Reader, next time you find yourself in a JDW just after alcohol sales begin, look for this strange phenomenon.   And if you know why they do this, do let me know in the comments.

I thoroughly recommend JDW for early morning people watching.   You can guarantee something of interest.

Another thing. Seems JDW now sell 660ml bottes of Camden Hells.  In this case for a mere £3.69. Anyone seen it elsewhere?

It's the Offer Stupid

 Cambridge Dictionary definition of hospitality: The act of being friendly and welcoming to guests and visitors:

We hear so much at the moment about difficult times for the hospitality industry.  Against a background of inflation and wage restraint, it is so obvious that there are major issues. These trials and tribulations are now featuring in mainstream newspapers and radio programmes, as well as, more obviously, trade press, blogs and podcasts.  These difficulties include, among other things, staff shortages, rising prices of everything supplied and sold to the industry as well as, lack of customers due to high prices and domestic and commercial difficulties caused by the effect of the huge increases in electricity and gas.

Of course this applies elsewhere, and the hospitality sector include restaurants, theatres, hotels as well as pubs and social clubs.  My interest, of course, is mainly pubs, so it is to that I turn in this brief post.  Now, I have used the term "It's the offer Stupid" in my blogs before.  I would draw your attention to this post in particular, which dates back to June 2013.  The main thrust of it, in case you can't be bothered reading it, is that back then, a survey said among other things that "People (47%) cite "poor customer service" as one of the main reasons not to go to a pub, along with the unwelcoming atmosphere(44%)."

I am reasonably sure, anecdotally at least, that it is highly unlikely that this generally negative view will have changed too much over the nearly ten years since the survey was taken. Service in pubs remains poor and yes I know the difficulties, but in these very challenging times you'd think that ensuring the customers are made welcome and accommodated as much as is humanly possible would be a very high priority indeed.  You really do need customers to return, so a small training investment in this basic area is really a no-brainer, and to make it even easier, the very people that you wish to convince are themselves customers elsewhere too, so it should be a relatively straightforward point to get across.

Let me give you a few recent examples.  There is a local pub that I don't go to that often, but which has picked up a decent reputation for food, though the wet trade is also a good part of the business, probably round half or so. It is a pub in which people still stand at the bar to drink, although there are plenty of other seating and eating areas.  On my once every two or three months or so visits, it is my experience that when you go in the bar staff are usually, if not actually serving, standing with their backs to the bar, gossiping.  This is quite annoying in itself, but on my recent visit, two different customers called goodbye to the staff with no response whatever.  When my time to leave came, I left unnoticed too, though I had stood at the bar for my two pints. When I worked in the pub, the boss then taught us always to say hello to new customers entering, and to thank them when they left. His simple logic? Make them feel welcome and they'll come back. That was in the times when pubs were bursting at the seams. How much more important is that simple act of appreciation now?  God knows what he'd have thought of not looking outwards from the bar.  It is simple. Look outwards, that's where the money is.

In my recent trip to Belfast, we met a couple of friends in a local brew pub.  They wanted to eat, and we didn't, having had a large hotel cooked breakfast and a meal booked later.  Firstly, it was odd that table service seemed to be mandatory.  Oh well, if that's what it is - fine.  We spent around three hours in there enjoying very good beer indeed, until the server came over to say she was going off duty, and we'd have to pay up.  This was odd, but we asked her to wait a moment while we divvied up the bill. "You can't" she said. "Someone will have to pay, and you can sort it yourselves later." What? There was no choice and to add insult to injury, a 10% service charge was applied as we were a table of four. So, I paid, was duly reimbursed by my pals, and we left, disgruntled and annoyed, for another pub.  

By way of contrast, I met three friends a few weeks ago in a pub in Manchester. We all ate and had several drinks. The friendly barman very kindly even brought drinks over to us old dodderers. When it came time to pay, and we asked to split the bill four ways, he said that as long as it came to the total, it was no problem. He got a good tip too, and we all agree we'll meet there again. 

So the message to pubs is to treat your customers well - they are all of your business. Say hello and goodbye and make life as easy as possible for them. Treat them as welcome guests. They have a choice, you know, and in these hard times, I suspect they will readily exercise it.

Oddly, the first two cases were individual business, while the Manchester example was a brewery managed house.

No such issues in our Belfast hotel, which really was welcoming to customers, as were the majority of Belfast pubs.

A Quick Thought on Sam's

There has been a lot written recently, and in the near past, about Sam Smiths, or more particularly Humphrey Smith.  Most of this stuff is speculative, as of course Humph, like the royal family, never apologises and never explains.  That doesn't help his case at all, though, as apart from being nearly as rich as the Windsors - the Smiths own a lot of land in Yorkshire and elsewhere - as well as an empire of up to 350 pubs throughout the UK, almost all being freehold. In fact, the number may be more, as I don't believe that anyone in the public domain actually knows the total

But all is not well. I was told, recently, that no fewer than 120 Sam Smith's pubs are closed through lack of people to run them. (You can often find them listed in trade adverts for managers) This is an astonishing number given that all of them are managed houses, and while they attract a smallish salary, not much above minimum wage, but they do have heating, lighting and rent thrown in on top.  This is not an entirely unattractive package in these dodgy times, so why is there a problem in finding the right people to run them? More of that soon.

Let's take a look at what else we know.  Sams' pubs - themselves largely unbranded - sell nothing that isn't made or commissioned by them. All beers, wines and spirits, crisps, nuts and pork scratchings, as well as soft drinks are Smith brand, even if the names are made up by them, or, as in the case of Walker and Scott spirits, owned by them. These and Scintilla Soft drinks are high quality products. Quality of product is rarely an issue with the brewery, and the lack of brands is something that could actually be admired from one point of view.  Make, not buy, still has some adherents.

Sams also brew an astonishing range of mostly keg beers - the sole cask beer being Old Brewery Bitter - and to continue with the idiosyncrasy - this is sold only in wooden casks, with strict turnover criteria deciding whether it can be obtained by a particular pub. Until recently the draught beers were sold at a very cheap price, but this has changed, though price increases elsewhere may well return Sams to its previous pole position.  As an aside, its range of bottled beers has always commanded a premium in the pubs. There is a long-standing and large export trade in bottles, mainly to the US.

The Smith empire is essentially split in two, with the Southern part - maybe it is just London - who knows where the line might be drawn? -  being run by Humphrey's son Sam, and the Northern and bigger chunk being run by Humphrey himself on a somewhat idiosyncratic basis, where his word is law and some would allege, employment law is regarded as advisory (Smiths lose a lot of tribunal and legal cases).

In the North, pubs appear to be run by diktat. When you enter one, prominent notices on the wall advise you not to use electronic devices. Mobile phones are banned and swearing is not permitted. There are no televisions, fruit machines or jukeboxes. No piped music is present and conversation is, again, by notices on the bar,  "encouraged".  Until very recently you could only pay by cash, but this rule has been rescinded and even the use of phones is allowed briefly for this sole purpose.  In London, particularly, use of contactless card payment has been allowed for years. Given the nature of the client base there, it would have been suicidal for the business to do otherwise, but technically at least, the other rules pertain, though perhaps there they apply more in the breach than the observance.

Both in the North and South, Sams run clean and comfortable pubs. They often spend a lot of money reinstating pubs to their former designed layout. They are warm, have a great range of things to drink and all you have to do is observe a few reasonable rules about not effing and jeffing and not make phone conversations inside.

So, what's not to like? Well, there seems to be a downside. Humphrey has been known to descend from Tadcaster and close pubs, immediately with customers still inside, and sack managers on the spot for allowing any minor breach of the rules.  These cases have been documented in the press and include alleged shortfall in stock among other things.  I also believe from web sources that he himself has been the victim of irregular behaviour from his managers and with his low tolerance of misdemeanour, this may go some way to explaining vacancies, as does a culture of fear.  As a former professional manager, I know that is a nil sum game. If you want to succeed, you really do need buy-in from those that make it all work for you. That means being fair and collaborative.

In summary, in aiming to turn the clock back to the non-existent halcyon days of pub going, there is a balance to be struck. Very few pubs back in the day would meet Humphrey's somewhat rose-tinted vision. Most were pretty rum places indeed, and conversations were peppered with epithets and worse. Back in those days, the managers and tenants who ran your pubs for you were also valued in a very different way to nowadays. As my good friend the Pub Curmudgeon remarks here, there is much to admire in Sam Smith's pubs. The trick, surely, would be to keep high standards, without unreasonably blaming those who are forced to apply them if customers transgress against them.

It would also help to be more accommodating to silent use of electronic devices, as would more than a nod to changing times. In this respect, as in other areas, any reasonable person would likely agree that a tweak here and there would benefit everyone without throwing Humph's baby out with the bathwater.

I commend to you other pieces written by the Pub Curmudgeon and Glynn Davis. These will help round off the picture for you. 

This article was prompted by the news that one of the many closed Sam Smith's pubs in our area was said to be re-opening. I'll check it out by way of resuming my pieces on Sam Smiths pubs soon. Here's a favourite example.

Drinking Cask in London

Those of you that follow me on Twitter know that I don't drink cask conditioned real ale in London all that often. Let's get a couple of things straight. I love London pubs, not least of all because they very much remind me of how pubs used to be. They are lively and busy, many are unspoilt and haven't had their innards pulled apart in the same way as has happened almost everywhere else - there are exceptions, of course - and they are perhaps surprisingly pretty friendly and generally nice places to be. They have a very mixed clientele, and a general buzz and jolliness which I find attractive. Furthermore, they usually offer a pretty good choice of beer generally, and most tend to sell real ale. What, then, is not to like then, for us casketeeers?  Well, our old friend quality of beer at point of dispense. Many real ales sold are simply not up to my standards, quality wise.

Even allowing for differing dispense preferences - unsparkled beer is the norm - cask beer is often warm, flabby, over vented, under conditioned and served badly by untrained staff. Or a combination of aforementioned serving issues. Despite these obvious shortcomings, the product is still usually sold at over five pounds a pint.  Over the 20 or so years we have owned a flat in London, I have realised that to buy cask beers in random pubs, no matter how attractive they otherwise might be, is often just throwing money away. As an aside, drinking cask in the centre of Manchester, Leeds or Liverpool, Sheffield, York and many more places, is likely going to reward you with a decent price and a reasonable price.  Don't blame me for stating this point. It is just a matter of fact. The downside is that you may well be drinking your splendid pint in less than glorious surroundings, so in some ways, it is a kind of place versus quality thing, though as in London there are exceptions.

I'm not going to list all the places where you get an excellent pint of cask in London - the Good Beer Guide "should" do that, and often does - but even as a CAMRA veteran of 40 odd years, I don't tend to lug the guide about with me, and, secondly, when I am out and about in London, I may not know exactly where I might end up and therefore pop into somewhere pubwise I, or we, like the look of.  That has led to a great few disappointing beers - and I am being kind here - so I tend to drink lager or stout on such occasions, unless I see the wickets being pulled for fun.

Let me give you a recent example.  A couple of weeks ago, I had been out for a wander as E performed her last-ever day of paid work.  After a pint of Anspach and Hobday's excellent nitro porter at Craft Beer - I'm never keen on the cask there - I went to the Sutton Arms in Great Sutton Street (where one can drink cask beer with confidence) and hence via a wondrously confusing Old St - renovations have made this an unsigned maze - towards Commercial Road where I was to meet E.  After a lager in one of our favourites, the Commercial Tavern, I persuaded E to try the Golden Heart, which still bears a large Trumans neon advert and some other external Truman's signage.  We often pass it in summer, when it is usually rammed in and out. It seemed to have been recently cut in half though, with a wine bar being added, but anyway, in we went.

It was moderately busy and had a Heineken bias on the pumps, which meant there was nothing I was keen to drink, but they did have Landlord.  So, against my better judgement, I took the plunge.  Firstly, the barperson filled the glasses via the swan neck from above the glass, resulting in much loose foam. My three-quarter pint was handed to me. I requested a top-up, which again was attempted by filling from above, and the beer (pictured) looked grim.  What could I do?  The lasses behind the bar clearly knew nothing about the beer or how it should be presented, equally clearly nobody had taught them how to pour it. The Landlord wasn't fit for service either, being as green as Ireland on St Patrick's Day. To add insult to injury, the beer was well north of £5 a pint.

This or similar nonsense is still going on all over London, so my friends, that is why I only drink cask beer from trusted venues in the capital. And why premiumisation of cask beer in what is effectively a cask lottery, is a bonkers distraction that should be shunned.

It would have been the work of seconds to show the bar staff how to use a swan neck to dispense beer, and equally the work of seconds to know that the beer wasn't yet ready to be served. If anyone cared, that is - which clearly they did not. (Tip. Landlord needs more time to settle a clear and reach its peak than most cask beers.)

As a matter of interest, I am always wary of Star Inns and Bars (Heineken). Very rarely do they have much worth drinking in my personal opinion.