Ice Cold in Munich

Tickers weep.  I'm about to tell you about a beer I've had and you'll never have. This is an exclusive and I just stumbled across it.  More or less.

Before going to Munich recently, I had hurriedly printed off some stuff about craft beers in Munich. Mostly just where to buy it, or drink it, but among the restaurants and pubs, there were two new breweries listed - both just with addresses and little else.  They were served by the same S Bahn station, so, with my companions, we thought, "Why not?" and set off. The one we were really aiming for was Brauerei Im Eiswerk which was supposedly a small offshoot run by Paulaner, one of the Munich giants.  We found it easily enough, in a quiet yard behind the huge Paulaner-Hacker Pschorr Brewery, but it all looked a bit closed.  As we nosed around, a door opened and my friend John explained the purpose of our mission to the charming young lady (one of the brewers as it turned out) that opened it. She fetched another gentleman who turned out to be the Head Brewer.  He explained that the brewery produced a number of exclusive beers which are sold to the public by pre-arranged collection once or twice a month.  It wasn't open to the public other than that.  Ah well.

Brewers though are princes among men.  The brewer thought for a moment and said "Would you like to come in and I'll tell you a bit about what we do here?"  "Yes please" we chorused.  The brewery is in an old building which was where they produced ice to allow round the year brewing many years ago. Herr Martin Zuber is the Brauemeister and his aim is to extend the range of beers brewed by Paulaner by re-interpreting or extending existing styles and by using different techniques or hops. The main thrust seems to be promote more passion about the beers they produce and to generally stimulate interest in beer and brewing.  Herr Zuber who spoke excellent English of course, then talked us through what they brew and showed us the remarkable and expensive looking stainless steel kit on which he brews his range of beers.  As he warmed to his theme, he seemed to make his mind up.  "We could maybe taste some of the products?" he suggested.  We were very happy to go along with this and were treated to snifters of all the beers.  Starting with Josef's Special, a brown ale of 5.2%, named after Joseph Pschorr, a renowned member of the famous Pschorr brewing family, which was creamy and smoky, then a Maerzen 1881 named after the year the Ice Factory in which we stood, was built, thus allowing brewing to take place at Paulaner throughout the year.  Previously brewing couldn't happen in the summer months as beer would spoil.  This Maerzen, weighing in at 5.7%, is styled on the forerunner of all Oktoberfest beers.  It had sweet malt, caramel notes and a smooth, elegant finish with some hops. 

In a different mode altogether was Weizen Bock Mandarin (6.9%) . This is a wheat beer made with top fermenting yeast and hopped with Hersbrucker, Hallertauer and Mandarina Bavaria, which imparts apricot/peach, mango and mandarin notes.  The beer is also dry hopped with Mandarina. It was slightly alcoholic with peachy fruit, tropical mango notes and a touch of orangey mandarin.  Quite delicious.  Then the alcohol was upped with Bourbon Bock (9.2%), described by the brewer as a a Triple Ale Bock. The beer undergoes a  triple fermentation and is then stored for 3 months in oak bourbon barrels giving it a hint of sherry, dried fruit and vanilla.  It was very warming and silky. Last up was a real treat.  An Eisbock of around 20% abv (I can't quite remember) which was liqueur smooth, thick and lasting in the mouth.  It kind of reminded me of 7 star Metaxa Brandy. It would be a great nightcap.

We asked Herr Zuber about himself and the Paulaner-Hacker Pschorr set up.  He trained as a brewer at Weihenstephan and used to be Head of Production and Quality Assurance in the main brewery.  In addition to his duties in the Ice Factory, he has the responsibility nowadays of overseeing all of Paulaner's 30 odd breweries abroad and has to visit them to ensure quality. A tough job, but someone has to do it I suppose. He is a big hop fan and of course we asked him, among many other things, about whether he'd like to brew an IPA.  "Well" he said, "I have in fact done so, here in this brewery, just to show others we can do it".  But he added you won't likely ever see a Paulaner IPA released on general sale from Paulaner- HackerPschorr, as the aim of the Ice Factory is quite different.  He again paused and thought for a second.  "Would you like to try my IPA?"  Er. "Yes please" we chorused.  So we did.  100% Cascades and perhaps at the less hoppy end of that particular spectrum, it was nonetheless a unique tasting experience.  It won't ever be released and when the keg is emptied or goes stale, that will be that.

As I have said before, brewers are generally lovely people who like to talk about beer, but this was above and beyond that.  Herr Zuber was kindness itself, giving an hour and a half of his time to four complete strangers.  It never ceases to amaze me that beery folks are the best.  But it shouldn't really, should it? 

Paulaner and Hcker Pschorr don't compete against each other any more, but rather, complement beer ranges which are separate brews and mostly different. That was an interesting part of our visit to me at least.  The top photo is Martin Zuber and the other one a not very good photo of the lovely little stainless steel Eiswerk Brauerei kit.

We did go to the other brewery mentioned in my first paragraph.  It took me back to my younger beer hunting days. More on that another time.

Poor London Pride

I'm not that big a fan of London Pride though I recall way back years ago when the Marble Arch sold it, it was a beer to actively seek out.  When I say way back, I'm talking over 25 years ago.  Was my enjoyment of it because of its comparative rareness, or was it simply better then?  Or maybe we had simpler tastes back in the good old days when hops were a background addition to beer and not the main star?  Now it seems one dimensional and sweet, but hey ho, that's how some people like it. What I have noticed though, in the few times I have had it recently, is how thin and generally unappealing it has become - to my palate at least.  It doesn't refresh, it cloys. Admittedly most of those times have been in Wetherspoon in London when there has been nothing else I fancy on.  When I've moaned on Twitter, I have been advised that I should only have it in Fuller's pubs. I've tried that and really don't find it any better there.

I wonder if the beer really has got worse, or if, in these days of vast choice,  I've simply become far more picky? In fact, have too many of us, rather than being discerning, just become too hard to please?


Worryingly, I tend to think the same of Lees Bitter these days too, relying instead on their seasonals or Manchester Pale Ale

It's a Bit Different In Munich

The Augustiner Keller is a classic of its kind and best of all, it is very handy for the centre of town when in Munich and an easy walk from the main railway station. In Munich the word "keller" generally denotes a beer garden and this is a classic of its type. Huge, sprawling, but nonetheless cosy enough, with its dozens - or is it hundreds - of benches set under chestnut trees, while an oompah band plays folksy German tunes in the background. On a lovely Monday evening in July it was seductively attractive.

It helps to know the form here. The place is split into two areas. One is self service in that you go in via a turnstile, choose your food from a number of counters and then separately your beer (Edelstoff from a wooden cask in my case), which is handed to you and hence, cafeteria style, to a till where you settle up. Otherwise you go to the other half of the keller, where a waiter will eventually wander over and take your order. In the posher bit, like many German restaurants, the tables will all have either people sitting at them or reserved signs on them. If you make it clear that you wish to eat, then, usually,  a table will be found for you. If you just want a drink, well its more hit and miss and you may have to find a table to share, which is normal there. It's all very jolly and civilised.  No children running wild, no shirts off tattooed drunks and just the buzz of conversion (and the band who are not amplified) to accompany good beer. Oh and another thing. In the self service area, unless you choose wheat beer, the smallest (indeed only) measure is a litre. Just get on with it. In the "waited on" area you can have half litres. Go figure.

We started off in the self service part and as we intended to dine, moved to the waiter service area where a reserved sign was removed for us.  We looked and I tried to estimate how many people were there.  It was hard to say, but I'd guess quite a few over 800.  We discussed this and couldn't think of any location at all in the UK, where, on a Monday night, without it being a special event or location, that so many people were eating and drinking out in such a relaxed and casual manner.

The German beer garden is a thing of wonder, as is how it all works and the incredible wealth and social cohesion that sits behind it.  It was a smashing night of a kind you can only really get in Germany and more specifically, in Bavaria.

Unfortunately the weather then turned and more or less ended our outdoor drinking.  If you want good weather in Munich, find out when I'm going and don't go then. I've a bad record in that respect.

You Can't Sit There

On my recent trip to Munich, I had half an hour to myself, so decided to ensure my time was usefully spent. Thus I nipped into the Augustiner Großgaststätte, a massive pub, restaurant and Beer Hall on Neuhauserstrasse and a favourite of mine. It was rather busy, so I ambled around looking for a likely spot. Finding a decent looking perch at the end of an under occupied table, I plonked myself down. Promptly a waitress appeared and told me auf Deutsch "You can't sit there". Having encountered this kind of situation before, I know better than to argue the toss in such circumstances and while having no precise idea why I couldn't sit there, I shuffled off in the general direction of her vague wave. I found a seat on a table not at all dissimilar, with just one guy sitting there and a pleasant male waiter brought me a half litre of Edlestoff and all was well.

Almost certainly the waitress was going off shift and didn't want any more customers before she settled up her receipts.  Or maybe was just being awkward.  That's a possibility too. Funny old place is Germany.

There are those that see little merit in Edelstoff.  They are quite wrong. It is a super export beer of considerable poise and elegance and far better than the somewhat watery Helles .

I also had the distasteful experience of having to crunch a cockroach underfoot in there.  I thought at first it was a child's toy.  Big bugger but better off dead. I don't think I could have reasoned with it. 

Definitely a Bit Ouchy

Not beer prices, but my left shoulder, which has seized up and is showing me what pain is all about. That's why this blog has been silent for too long. It is just too painful to hunch over a screen, hence nothing from me.  Physio is kind of helping, but rest is needed.

I'll be back.

More Than a Bit Ouchy

I like the Soup Kitchen in Manchester. Not a pub, more of a genuine café-bar, it has five handpumps though invariably only three or four are on, some craft kegs, a few good bottles, a great atmosphere and service is always friendly and pleasant. You can perch on infeasibly high stools (beware of your legs going numb and the long drop back to terra firma) and watch the world go by both inside and out. OK I might up the average age by far too many years, but it's a firm favourite of mine and as long as you go during the day, there's a chance you won't be the oldest there.

On Saturday daytime, after very good pints in Pie and Ale, I visited with a mate.  It was my round and three beers were on.  We dismissed one on the grounds of not fancying it, one on the grounds of strength (7.4%), so we had the other, a Manchester brewery which is pretty new.  Squawk Pale Ale (3.9%) was purchased after we sampled it. OK, it was a bit warm, but we went for it.  I thought I'd misheard the barmaid when she chimed  "£8.20 please" but no, that's what it was.  I looked at the board.  Other beers were around the £3.50 mark.  I asked why so and was advised by the barmaid replied that it is very expensive to buy.  Hmm. My answer to that would be "Unless it is extra special, don't buy it then."

Now I know that beer can vary in price, but I reckon £4.10 for this beer, brewed not more than a couple of miles away, is taking the proverbial.  It even exceeds most beers in the Port St Beer House and they know how to charge. But who is doing it?  Not the pub they say,  who are (presumably) applying their standard mark up.  They blame the brewery and the price of the strong beer we turned down would seem to indicate this might be the case.  Arbor Breakfast Stout, all the way from Bristol and at 7.4%, a lot stronger, was exactly the same price. (No - they don't charge a standard price for beer.)  Nor was the beer, while absolutely fine, anything special to justify the price and certainly not as good as either the Outstanding Green Bullet or the First Chop DOC we'd enjoyed previously.

 Of course breweries will charge what the market will stand, as will pubs and good luck to them if they can do it, but for me, that was just too much, whoever is to blame.

We didn't get a duff pint at all on Saturday and most were absolutely top notch.  That at least was positive. Roosters The Italian Job confirms the steady rise back to excellence for this brewery.

Booths

For those that don't know, Booths are a small, independent, supermarket chain based in Preston with around 29 stores.  The nearest to me is Media City in Salford.  Think of them as the Waitrose of Lancashire and you won't go far wrong.  They are noted among other things for their large and very varied beer selection which has most connoisseurs of bottle British beer, not only nodding their approval, but actively seeking them out.  I like them and make a point of popping in when I can, though more usually for their foodstuffs rather than beer. Still, I like beer too and while I don't drink beer at home that much, I was nonetheless grateful to receive three samples from Booths of their latest in house range.  Now I tend to leave beer descriptions to those that are adept at it, such as the Beer Nut and those who are not such as.... well, let's move on there, but last night, pre-thunderstorm seemed a good time to give them a try, sat out in the garden in the warmth and sunshine.  I also had the lovely E on hand to give here usual forthright views, so what could possibly go wrong?

First of all the labelling. Plain, striking and simple.  Full marks.  Beers descriptions actually told you useful things, rather than "Brewed from the finest malt and hops".  More plaudits.  We started off with Booths Summer Ale, brewed for them by the highly respected Ilkley Brewery at 4% abv.  The helpful label told us that it contained wheat as well as barley and was bottled by Holdens.  More praise here.  This geek didn't know Holdens had a wholesale bottling operation.  Well interesting to me, though E seemed less impressed funnily enough.  Right away E identified orange notes in the nose.  I agreed and the taste of Seville oranges throughout was very pleasing indeed.  It claims to be refreshing, though E thought it too bitter to be so.  It certainly wasn't a gulper, but to me the Frank Cooper marmalade notes were very attractive.  There was maybe just a hint of the promised peach, but neither of us could detect the label's passion fruit.  I don't doubt the dreaded crystal malt was there too, as a slight barley sugar note could be detected, but hey, Ilkley clearly know their stuff and it worked.  We'd both buy it.  Me in a heartbeat. I loved it and could see myself drinking two or three in a row with pleasure.

Next up was Booths Lemongrass Ale (also 4%), made by Lancaster Brewery and bottled by Robinson's in Stockport.  It promises "natural lemon and lemongrass".  There's always a difficulty in this kind of beer which to my mind tend to veer between toilet duck and lemon furniture polish.  E didn't like the nose or her first taste, but became a little more enthusiastic as she moved on through her glass.  She detected lemon sherbet and thought it rather woody from the lemongrass.  My own thoughts were rather sentimentally of the old Huntley and Palmer Lemon Puff in a badly done liquid form.  It had lemon and biscuity malt, buy sadly it didn't really work for me at all, though oddly, I liked it more, the more I had of it.  E concluded that it was like a "badly made shandy."  Funnily both of us would like to try it again, so pick the bones out of that.

Last, but by no means least was Black IPA, brewed by Hawkshead Brewery and bottled, oddly, by Agricola in East Yorkshire.  I love that.  Another new one on me.  Now this was almost guaranteed to divide opinion, E not being the biggest lover of dark beers.  She loved the piney resinous nose though, but the distinct roastiness wasn't to her taste, but it was right up my street.  Now here I have a dilemma. It tasted to me of roast barley, but it could be a modified carafa. I don't know, but even less do I really know what the difference between this and a bitter stout might be.  I'd suggest if you changed the label, no bugger would know, or care, or shout foul.  Whatever, it was the kind of classy beer that you'd expect from Hawkshead.   I liked it and E didn't really.  I'd love to see it on cask form at a boozer near me. No real surprises there.

To conclude. Three beers, two great and one a bit of a puzzle.  Not so bad.  Well done Booths.

Tasting notes from me eh?  Whatever next?   My thanks to Booths for the samples.

The Captain James Lang (Again)

This is by way of an update, so please read the background here and the initial post here first.  It all helps my stats and you, Dear Reader, to understand things.

Mum and I returned to the newly opened JDW, Captain James Lang in Dumbarton two days after our first trip.  Mum had offered to pay, so why not? (She didn't as usual!)  This time we were able to sit in one of the much coveted booths and see what was happening at the bar.  I didn't give the cask beer a go at first - once bitten -twice shy and all that - but had a couple of pints of St Mungo Lager from West Brewery in Glasgow.  Decent stuff, but perhaps they are being a bit fanciful to call it a cross between a Bavarian Helles and a North German Pilsner.  At least in my view, though I must try that as an experiment if I ever have the chance to cross pollinate the two.  Still, though as I said, it is good stuff.

I didn't see any cask being sold for a good while and then a guy asked for a pint of London Pride.  It looked clear and he supped it with obvious enjoyment, returning not many minutes later for another.  One or two more handpumps were now moving.  Things cask wise were clearly looking up.  I was deciding whether to plunge in, when I noticed a very tall guy at the bar, with shorts, a fleece top, a notebook and a mullet haircut.  Bugger me if it wasn't Timbo himself.  Tim Martin the boss man no less.  I went over and said "Tim Martin?"  "The same" quoth he amiably.  We had a brief chat where I filled him in on the lack of cask beer in Dumbarton over the years and he asked me what I thought of the place.  He was very pleasant and told me he'd been doing the rounds of some of his Scottish pubs and waved his bulging notebook at me "These are my observations" he boomed.  As I ordered my pint of St Mungo he added "I'll get that".  Splendid.  What a guy.

As I pointed him out to my Mum, he went off on an inspection.  I finished my pint and ordered a London Pride.  It was rather good as Pride goes.  There is hope as I suggested already and the staff were still trying hard.

I was very impressed that Tim was, sans entourage, going round his own pubs under what seemed to be his own steam.  Can't see many Chairmen doing that.  The photo is nicked from the web.

Teething Troubles

The long awaited JDW, The Captain James Lang, in Dumbarton has opened and a a fine place it is too.  The former Woolies has been transformed into a modern and comfortable pub with a long bar and eight handpumps (which is probably the most Dumbarton has ever seen) bringing cask ale back to the town.  Seating is a mixture of high and low tables, booths (which are popular and commandeered by twos in each case, though they'd fit four comfortably) and a beer garden with spectacular view of Levengrove Park, the River Leven and Dumbarton Rock.  It provides food up until eleven at night which brings the number of such pubs in Dumbarton doing so, up to.... err.... one.  On a Monday night when I rolled up with my old Mum, it was doing a roaring trade.

Now Dumbarton and cask ale are complete strangers to each other.  I ordered a pint of something from a Scottish Brewery (I can't remember which) and asked thr barman how the cask was doing.  "Flying out" quoth he.  My pint was disturbingly murky.  Not London Murky perhaps, but too murky for my liking.  It was also stale tasting and exchanged with a smile and apology for another pint of murk from a different handpump.  Hmm.  Third time lucky?  Doom Bar it was. Clear looking, so a result?  Not quite.  It was sour and acetic.  I ordered a gin and tonic and went back to my Mum, whose red wine was fine.

Meals next. A mixed result. Cremation of meat seems to be the order of the day.  My burger was just about OK though hardly succulent.  Mum's gammon steak had great potential.  Potential as an offensive weapon, or as a stone age axe head.  This was exchanged with apologies and later, unexpectedly, by a refund.  I took the opportunity to have a chat with the charming and helpful Duty Manager who put it all down  to teething problems.  I don't doubt it, but it didn't make for a great experience. It will be all right here though. Staff were absolutely fantastic.  Cheerful, helpful, doing their best and showing signs of being a good team. Mum enjoyed it too,  though I think it was more the red wine, the presence of her son and reminiscences of Woolworths. 

Don't worry Dumbarton. It will soon be sorted out, but please drink the cask before it goes off.

I didn't notice until my way out,  as it is tucked away to one side, but a bonus is West Brewery St Mungo on sale.  That'll be my tipple until the cask situation is sorted out and not a bad choice in any event.

Not Much to See Here. Move Along

I was alerted by @robsterowski through his blog that a new craft beer bar had opened in Glasgow and as I would be there, soon, I popped in when I arrived on Monday just gone. Handy for Glasgow Central Station, on Regent St, the Raven is operated by former brewer and now pub operator Maclay and is in the ex premises of a pub I believe to have been called the Bay Horse. Maybe.

 Walk in, bar to the left up a couple of steps (might have been two lots actually now I think of it) with toilets straight ahead and a bigger space off to the right which seemed more devoted to eating - pulled pork and other meaty stuff mainly. Reviews for this aspect have been very positive, but I wasn't there to eat. Three handpulls and a handfull of keg fonts had a fairly ordinary set of beers on and there was a decent but modest selection of bottles. I didn't fancy the cask offerings, so opted for a half of BrewDog Fake Lager, which was enjoyably better than I remember it. One "innovation" which I liked was sample trays of three, either cask or keg, with keg sold at a premium. The place is well enough done, with wood and chrome, matt walls and the like, but it felt to me like a corporate idea of what a craft beer bar majoring in food ought to be. It was generic, derivative and pretty uninteresting.

I doubt if it will set the craft beer scene in Glasgow alight, or if it was intended that it would, but given its location, I imagine it'll do well enough for those that just want decent pub food and good  beer in pleasant surroundings.  I'll guess too, that Mclays will happily settle for that.

More Sharp Practice

Sometimes pubs just don't help themselves do they.? Fast on the heels of my previous post about warm glasses, I was out in Manchester with E and two friends discussing the finer points about next week's Munich trip. (Seems we'll drink some beer in beer kellers assuming the right weather).

We started off in Pie and Ale where the beer though excellently kept, wasn't to our taste on that occasion. No issue with that - it's just the luck of the draw. We had no plan,so adopted the simple expedient of going to the nearest good pub, in this case a bar. Five handpumps in front of us and three turned round. The  verycharming barmaid explained that nobody present knew how to change a cask, so if we came back in an hour, we'd have a full choice. This at six o'clock on a Friday evening. Really? We didn't fancy the strong beers on offer, so took her advice and returned later where a full array of beers sorted us out. But it isn't that good is it?

In the meantime we went to a much lauded craft ale bar. The cask beers were to our liking. I chose a pint of one and E a half of a different one. I saw some jiggery pokery going on under the bar however. I tiptoed higher and saw at once what was occurring. E's half had been poured to within a inch of the top from a full glass on the driptray and was being "brightened" by a a sparkler. The beer was warm and flat. I mentioned his sleight of hand to the barman. He said "I'd just poured the pint by mistake and didn't want to waste it." I said that it meant my wife had a poor drink because of it and was therefore paying for his mistake. He shrugged but didn't offer to replace it. I didn't want a fuss so said no more. You don't come to the pub for a confrontation as I've said before.E was unimpressed.

In the first case, not ensuring that staff know how to change beers is amateurish. In the second, it is just bad practice.  You don't make the customers pay for staff mistakes and if unwise enough to get caught doing so, you should apologise and sort it out.

I must be getting soft in my old age by not naming names, but maybe I can be persuaded if readers deem it essential.  There are clues in the text though.

A Mixed Blessing

I had a pint with one of my local landlords at the weekend while visiting his pub.  I like to do this when I can, as it keeps me in touch with what's happening locally - essential for my day job as CAMRA Branch chairman.  I asked if the World Cup was helping trade and he pulled a face.  While he had 90 or so in his vault watching England on Thursday night, his thriving (but TV free) lounge and restaurant were more or less empty and his beer garden, on one of the most pleasant and warmest nights of the year had nary a soul in it.

The assembled horde in the vault supped plenty of beer, but overall, his trade on the day was well down.  This contrasted with when England played late - after normal usual closing time - when people could have their normal night out, then go home and watch the game, while as a bonus, the vault (the only part of the pub with TV), was again filled with extra custom.  We talked about whether he could have put TV in other areas of the pub for this four yearly event only, but although he considered it, the logistics, as well as the fact that it isn't what he is trying to achieve in his pub, ruled it out.  He felt it better overall to just take the hit on what will, sadly, turn out to be one night only.   He isn't expecting much from the last and meaningless England game either trade - or indeed football wise.  Overall the World Cup has, on balance,  been good for trade, but it has been a bit lumpy and certainly not a money spinner..

He wasn't pleased to see England go home early by any means, but it seems, life for some pub landlords at least, will be simpler now.

Lees new seasonal, Golden Peddler, is pretty decent too, assuming you actually want a beer to drink as opposed to beer as an intellectual exercise.

Reading Minds at the Bar

I'm at the bar in one of our local pubs with E who is sitting at a table.  The pub is early Friday night busy, which is just steady. There is no wait at the bar, desultory though the service is.  The order is a simple one.  A pint of MPA for me and a half of Original for E. My pint is poured and the barman reaches behind him to the shelf where the half pint glasses are stored.  I watch with interest.  Watching barstaff is one of my little hobbies.  Did I tell you I was trained by an expert?  Yes I think I did. Once or twice.  You never forget good habits if they are instilled in you from an early age. I've probably mentioned that too I suppose.

The barman clutches a glass.  He hesitates and I watch his mind wrestling with itself.  I know what's afoot instantly.  The glass is warm from the glasswasher.  I know what he is thinking.  He internalises the problem instantly and I see him putting the arguments to himself.  "This glass is hot.  Should I find another or just serve in it anyway ?" will be the gist.  The decision is made more or less at once. Inside his head he silently says "Fuck it".  The half is served in a warm glass, which I detect immediately by the simple expedient of putting my paw round it.  "You made the wrong decision there" I say.  The barman looks at me slightly uncomfortably.  "We both know that glass was too warm for the beer don't we?" I add. He says nothing, but pours the beer away, checks for a cold glass and serves me the beer.  I pay and say no more.

It cost JW Lees a half pint of beer though.  Will the lesson be learned?  I am not so sure.

Lees Golden Original Lager is an excellent beer.  I had a few pints of it (elsewhere) last night.  Tremendous stuff really.  Try it if you have the chance.

The Princess of Prussia

I am not the biggest fan of the cask products of Shepherd Neame which I find harsh and samey.  I can't say the same about many of their non standard bottles though, which are quite the opposite. They are very good. Shep's should maybe look at putting some of them such as Brilliant Ale (which actually is) or Double Stout on cask, rather than the nondescript ones they do now.  Early Bird, Amber Ale, Late Red?  Just say no.  They taste the same as the usual ones.  Harsh and difficult to tell from each other. Be that as it may, I still like the nearest Shepherd Neame pub to my London flat and do go there.  You'd hardly be attracted by the prices though, expensive as it is, even by local standards which are scarcely cheap.  But I like the place. That's the thing about pubs.  It isn't just the beer. The Princess of Prussia is very pubby, with a good mixed clientèle and a nice feel to the place.  Distinct drinking areas, lots of dark wood for cosiness and a splendid, atmospheric, heated outside area at the back adds to its considerable attractiveness. It is pretty well run too and while I dislike the beer, I have never had a badly kept pint.

So, despite having tried repeatedly to like the cask offerings, I just can't, so generally end up drinking Oranjeboom, which in its original Dutch incarnation at least, is an all malt brew.  No obvious corn notes in the Shep's brewed stuff, so probably all malt here too (though I wouldn't bet my reputation on it ) and as I usually just have a quick couple of pints, while it's no great flavour experience, no harm done either.
 
All this rambling leads to the reason for this post.  The Princess of Prussia used to be a Truman's pub and bore some traces of its ancestry outside.  Recently the outside has been done up, with new tiling replacing old, broken stuff.  Doesn't it look great?

So, while I don't care for the cask beer, I do like the pub and Shep's sympathetic care of it.  Two out of three isn't bad.  Or is it?

Can't help thinking I'd enjoy Truman's Burton Brewed Pale and Old Ales better.  Stout and Mild would be nice too! Where's that time machine?

The Princess of Prussia is at 15 Prescot St, London E1 8AZ

Just off Bethnal Green Rd

It's a funny old place is Bethnall Green Road.  You tend to think of it as the Krays and Cockney geezers, but you'd be far nearer the mark nowadays thinking of Karachi or some such, as the whole area seems to be one long tatty shop after another, so the whole feels like one long foreign market.  It isn't pretty. Trust me on that one. Be that as it may, there are pubs to be found, though often more in the sense of signs for former boozers, or a few very run down looking places which could just as easily be in a poor area of Manchester, Leeds, Bradford or Liverpool rather than wealthy London.  Emerging at the end of Bethnall Green Road, where we'd walked from our flat on a sunny Sunday afternoon, we were almost on our target.  Immediate left under the railway bridge and into Paradise Row.  A neat little row of terraces leads you to Mother Kelly's, in a railway arch, but not for once a brewery, but a bar.

It is a decent size with some benches out front, a stall selling fancified pig flesh of some sort, run by an incredibly hairy guy and two skinny women and inside a neat spacious place with more benches, fridges of exotic beers down the left wall and a long bar with keg taps at the back.  A non bearded barman greets us with a smile and a hello.  He offers tasters and good advice, all in a non condescending way.  He is very amiable and friendly.  We choose two two thirds. Me of wheat beer, E of lager, which shows clearly the limitations of this glass.  On a hot day, two gulps and there is almost nothing left of my beer, but hey, maybe that's just me. We take seats inside, as outside the few patrons practice the usual British policy of spreading themselves out to keep a space for six the domain of two.  But we don't mind - it's nice inside and we can look out through the wide open doors at the trees (look to the right for this, otherwise it is the back of a nondescript building).  We note that mercifully the music, playing at a sensible volume, is not techno beat, but something equally modern, without that drilling bass sound that makes you want to kill yourself, or, better,  the bastard that put it on.  Most of the men aren't bearded, which endears the place to me even more. We like it. 

Back to Bethnall Green Road and some history.  We pass the sign for the Ship.  A Watney's House, though there is no trace of the pub.  I look with interest at the few open pubs.  The Marquis of Cornwallis, the Star of Bethnall Green which I'd have liked to go in, rough though it looked, but E wouldn't. The Old George?  No. Not this time.  A new target for us was The King's Arms.  It is disconcerting to turn a few yards off the main road with its distinct Asian feel into posh London with neat streets and that gentrified feel which is almost unique to London.  The pub is majestic,  with its long floor to ceiling windows and a good feel inside.  The place though is more or less empty and the beer, ironically from Salford, is toasty warm. The cellarman is called.  He apologises and pours a new one which is much better.  He explains the beer lines aren't cooled to the point of dispense.  He and I both shake our heads at this.  Three casks, a few well chosen kegs, but it needed customers, though we did linger a while and one or two did wander in.  We like it and again we'll be back. But I'll make sure I'm not the first customer for a while.

We finish up in the Carpenter's Arms - or rather outside it.  Fairly good (but warmish) Adnams and with a nod to the East, a curry in Tayaabs which was, frankly disappointingly bland.  It seems it isn't what it used be.  A bit like Bethnall Green Road?

 Can I thank Matt Curtis for recommending both pubs, even if he thought I'd find cask free Mother Kelly's not to my taste. Mind you I wouldn't fancy it when it is heaving.