Karmeliet on the Kust

You know how, when you venture into foreign parts, sometimes you just get stuck on a particular beer? Well - that. 

This little adventure was a short three-day hop over to Belgium. Ostend, specifically. The plan? Ride the legendary Kusttram—basically a scenic tram that glides up and down the Belgian coast from De Panne near France to Knokke-Heist near the Dutch border. It's supposedly one of the longest tram routes in the world, and it sounded like just the kind of gentle, beer-accompanied exploring we needed.

Our journey began in different ways. The other two lads came to London on Tuesday for our Eurostar 13.01 departure, while I came down the night before to check our flat was still in one piece. This allowed me to have a lie in and have the chance to be fleeced of seven of your British pounds for a substandard pint of Landlord - but that's another story.  It also allowed me to have a full English breakfast and a couple of leisurely pints in the Betjeman Arms in St Pancras Station. As an aside, it might be pricey, but what a grand place that is inside and a good spot for people watching outside. Worth it as a treat, for sure.  

Eurostar is fab, but the check in area is far too small, but we had decent seats on the train and soon were belting through France at an agreeable number of kilometres per hour. On time and comfortable. Excellent. On arrival in Brussels, we did the only sensible thing: found a bar, ordered beers, and toasted our escape. Sunshine, Hoegaarden in a comically large glass, and that undefinable hum and buzz of a city not our own. We just enjoyed it and watched the goings on, going on. Eventually, we grabbed our (very senior-discounted) train tickets—just €8.50 to any station in Belgium!—and made our way to Ostend. Our accommodation was on the 7th floor, with views of the casino and, somewhere beyond, the North Sea. But before we even found the place, there were the inevitable wrong turns and a pit stop for more beers

It was there, in the friendly and very pubby De Klokke - just round the corner from our abode as it turned out - we encountered what proved to be a bit of a nemesis - for two of the company at least - Tripel Karmeliet. Now, this Abbey beer is rather easy to drink. Brewed with three grains - wheat, barley and oats, it is as smooth, presumably from the oats, as the smoothest of smooth things, but hides its 8.3% brilliantly.  But it has a deadly kick for those that choose to sup it with a degree of recklessness. Fortunately, it wasn't entirely to my taste and I settled when in De Klokke - yes we went more than once - for a boys beer - Leffe Blonde at a mere 6.6%.  Full of common sense, me.  

We only had a couple, then found where we were staying, dumped the bags and went straight out. It turned out there was a decent seam of pubs nearby, so we tried a few, drinking various Tripels, until somewhat predictably, we ended up in a kebab house at midnight, necking Duvel from the bottle.  We, also predictably, slept like babies and were up in decent shape for the main event: the Kusttram.

It would be pretty boring to relate all our activities, but we did try a variety of beers and places. If your Belgian drinking has been mainly in big cities such as Antwerp, Brussels and Ghent, I observed it was rather different on the North Sea coast. We were disappointed with Blankerberge, both as a town and as a place to drink. Graham and I had been there before, and we had fond memories of it. But we found ourselves in a town which bore no comparison to our recollection. At all. Everything seemed to have been modernised beyond recognition - shiny and sterile, not charming and cosy. We were armed with pub recommendations from our good friend Mr Protz, but couldn't find the first at all - we think it had closed - and the second, the Terminus, by the main tram stop, was just generic and nondescript. So modern it looked, that we asked if it was new, but were advised it had been there for over a hundred years. Oh. Really? Like the UK, it seemed things had changed in the many years since our last visit, but not for the better.

We liked De Haan though. A charming and traditional looking small town, where we watched some pretty fast cycling - something the Belgians take very seriously, with closed roads, marshalls, police, and crowds. We slaked our thirst in interesting Bar Roger, which sported plenty of breweriana, and a decent beer list. Gueuze Boon for me and Tripels for the lads. A couple more in a modern place where more Karmeliet was consumed, and back to Ostend, and our local area, with lots of Karmeliet for my companions, and a variety, mostly Leffe Blond, for me. The night was topped off by another kebab at a different place at silly o'clock, of which only one of us had any recollection at all. As I'm writing about it -  me  - of course. Mr Sensible.

On the next day, we fared rather better heading south towards France, where the tramline ends.  Interesting views of miles of sandy beaches, and a plethora of what seemed to be holiday lets, as one small town rolled into another. At least on this coast, architectural merit didn't seem to be even on the planner's distant thoughts. On the way, we chatted to an old Belgian man, wondering if, as we neared the French border, would the language change from Dutch to French. He assured us, proudly, it would not.  Alighting in De Panne, in our first pub, oddly named as Itz a Pub, we were greeted with a cheery "Bonjour" from the owner and all we heard everywhere after that was French, which helped us communicate. So much for Flemish pride.

The town itself was nothing great to speak of, but we could imagine how busy it would be in the summer, as indeed we could see elsewhere. At the time of our visit, not much was open, but you could see preparations being made everywhere. However, as in Ostend, pubs/bars were all busy considering it was midweek and we had great conversations in both La Grand Place where we went by mistake and in the one right next door, Café des Bains, where we had intended to go. Table service was the norm in most places with beers, generally priced around €4.50 - €5 or a fair bit more for exotics.  Not bad at all, really.  Each order was accompanied by a small snack such as nuts or crisps.

We approached the last evening with more caution, as we had to be up and out early to get back to Brussels. The Eurostar Terminal there is more comfortable than St Pancras, and we had an uneventful journey back, with my two jaded companions eschewing a last drink in Euston Station. Maybe they would have been tempted by Karmeliet? Or maybe not! 

Would I recommend Ostend and the Belgian Coast? Well, yes - the tram is fun - but I'd likely say go in summer when things are in full swing and a lot more lively. What about Tripel Karmeliet?  It is certainly a well-made beer, but a bit hefty for swigging, though I should probably ask my friends about that.

My £7 pint was in the Hoop and Grapes in Aldgate, a Nicolsons house. Really poor it was too. If you are going to serve £7 pints, make sure they are in the toppest of condition, or at least display the price clearly.

It was also good to see Hoegaarden widely available in the North Sea Coast area. It may be big brewery beer, but it is still a classic of the Belgian Witbier style, and too rare a beast in the UK these days.

 

 

Northern Restaurant and Bar

On Wednesday I attended what is described as "The North's leading hospitality trade event. Bringing together over 9,600 visitors and 300+ exhibitors".  This is an annual event and I have been going, off and on, for quite a few years. The venue is Manchester Central, the huge exhibition centre formerly known as GMex and renamed after the railway station it used to be.  It was fitting that my companion for the day was my friend Graham, with whom I co-organised the Manchester Beer and Cider Festival  for several years when it was held there. It felt like a sentimental return for both of us.

We went on the second day of this two-day event, mainly to see who we knew - usually many - from both publicans and local breweries - and as always to have a chat with the various other exhibitors -  and certainly to sample a few beers. Firstly we had a look round to get the lie of the land, and, knowing the place as we do, we both felt that the exhibition was using more of the space than previously. This is a good thing, because the event is popular and can be very crowded. It is broadly split along the lines of food on one side and drinks on the other, with trade suppliers of everything from cutlery to glasses and electronic tills all dotted around and a central "theatre" where presentations and discussions take place. 

This being the second day, it wasn't too manic, but apparently, on the previous day, it had been rammed and there were a few slightly pissed people. Even small samples of spirits, will, I suppose, do this if you have enough of them - and there were plenty of these to go at -  but everyone I knew was very well-behaved and indeed I saw nothing untoward at all. In fact, the event was very civilised and well organised too.

Our first port of call, by accident as much as anything, was the bar of La Chouffe, owned now by Duvel Moortgat brewery group. A quick taster of  Cherry Chouffe  warmed us up in more ways than one with its 8% alcohol and as a bonus, we were both given a souvenir glass. We tucked that in our coats and set off for pastures new, being stopped on the way by a rep offering a free can of beer. Ah. No bag, so a detour to the Lipton's Ice Tea bus, saw us sorted out with a tote bag for any subsequent offerings.

I decided that my tastings should have a purpose. I'm fond of nitro stouts and there seemed to be a few on offer, so I'd try and taste them all. A benchmark need to be set, so I plumped for a beer I know. So, off to JW Lees stand for their excellent stout - which is not, strictly speaking, in the Irish style - followed by two from Theakstons.  They offered Brennan's Irish Stout, which was rather sweet and chocolate forward, but with a little late bitterness. The other, Barista Stout was as expected, big on coffee and vanilla, but overall, a bit too sweet for me.

Next up was another local one. Joseph Holt's Trailblazer Stout, a beer, again I am familiar with. This is more Guinness like, and I enjoyed its tasty roast malt and its chocolate and slight smokiness. A very well-made beer.  I also gained a bit of intel about a licensee change in my area, so a bit of CAMRA business too, though I was badged up as a "Beer Writer".  A new one for me though was Coal Drop from Tiny Rebel. A joint venture between distributor LWC and the Newport based Tiny Rebel, this was an absolute beauty.  The lads behind the bar couldn't have been nicer and the beer was excellent, with a silky body, a touch of roast malt and a smooth finish. Excellent stuff.  

Final two were Brock from Thornbridge which was a little disappointing, being a tad thinner than the others and finally, BrewDog Black Heart, which was decent, but seemed to lack flavour.

So, there you have it. I must point out that all stouts were served in sample sizes of a few ounces, in various plastic "glasses", so you have to bear that in mind, though some were sampled more than once. To me the Coal Drop just edged it from Lees Stout, but I do wonder if they were tasted blind, in pint glasses, how it would all have turned out.

I wasn't alone in my stout interest, as you could observe many people asking for samples. One thing seems certain, the stout revival continues apace and I reckon we'll see a lot more brewers putting efforts into promoting it. 

Other highlights were, as usual, seeing people I know and meeting brewery staff. A special mention to Iain from Greene King who was a smashing lad, and to everyone else who represented their companies with charm and good humour, despite their sore feet.  It was also very gratifying to hear that many had done great business there, including some of the smaller breweries exhibiting.

I did also sample various other beers as we went round. Top of the bunch for me was Swiss brewed 1936,  Birra Alpetti, a proper Italian lager and Budvar Dark. There may have been others, but it was still nice to go to the pub afterwards and drink cask from a pint glass.

 

And Now for the Good

Now, you'll likely be aware that London can be a minefield for the cask drinker, but it isn't always so.  In this short post, I'll tell you about three places where in all probability you'll get a decent pint of the real stuff.

The King's Arms in Bethnall Green has been taken over by Jack Duignan of Sutton Arms fame.  Trust me, this is good news.  I've known Jack and his dad for some time now, and the Sutton Arms is another place where you can depend on the beer, both in choice and quality.  They run a good pub, and they know what they are doing. On our last visit to the King's Arms, we were suffering from a substandard pint when Jack walked in. He'd only take over a matter of days before, and immediately came over for a chat. "How's the beer?" he asked. "Not great" I replied. He immediately went behind the bar, tested the beer and turned the clip around with a grimace.  Work to do.

Fast-forward a couple of months and on a busy Friday night, the beer was immaculate, cool, and well conditioned. Jack was there in a social capacity, but came over and explained that he'd sorted it. Of course he had. Go there with confidence. You won't be disappointed.

On Saturday, E needed a makeup item from Boots. No luck in our nearest one, so we wandered over to Liverpool Street, where she was similarly disappointed. So - a consolation pint? Why not? We noted the Lord Aberconway on Old Broad Street and nipped in. Surprisingly, I don't recall ever being in this Nicolsons pub before, but what a good one it is. Unspoilt inside, lots of dark wood and like a real railway station pub, plenty of transient customers enjoying a swift one, augmented by various soaks, illicit looking couples and a rather good atmosphere. Staff were friendly and efficient. Among others, there was Thornbridge Jaipur on offer and boy, was it good. More than one pint good,  and E was drinking it - another good sign. I noted that cask beer was flying out, which as any fool knows is rather reassuring. On this one visit, I'll recommend it, but I'll be back to be sure.

A more frequent haunt near our flat is the Culpepper on Commercial Street, a rather posh and upmarket sort of place in some ways, but we've always found it friendly enough and delight in raising the average age by at least 25 years. It is, oddly, reasonably priced by London standards and sells two cask beers, Five Point Pale and one from Mad Goose. We chose the Five Points, and it was in great condition. We perched on stools by the window watching the Sunday lunch crowd and looking forward to our own lunch in Dishoom, Shoreditch. Top tip? The window stools are great watching the Commercial Road scene.

So, there is good cask beer in London. You just have to seek it out. I'll keep you informed. 

Another favourite pub is also on Commercial Road. The Commercial, a huge ex Courage roadside pub which has been re-opened after years of closure, with minimal urban chic applied. The prices are absolutely outrageous - no wonder most were drinking halves - and there is (no longer) cask beer, but if you want to see the Shoreditch mob in their native habitat, it is a good place to go.  £54 for a bottle of Albarino in a grotty pub that doesn't do food? I thought not.

Dishoom is great. I've been to the King's Cross one, but the Shoreditch one is just brilliant. Great staff and food.

More About London

Let's make one thing clear. London has a fabulously diverse selection of pubs and, yes, it has to be said, some ropey cask beer.  Now that's out of the way, let's concentrate on the praise - with the odd, minor criticism to liven things up.

On a cold Wednesday evening, we started as always in the Aldgate Tap. I've a bit of a soft spot for the various Taps in the Bloomsbury Leisure empire and even though this one is completely devoid of any real character, it being an architect designed lump of steel and glass, sort of plonked in a London square. Its nearness to Aldgate Tube station though, makes it a handy pit stop for those Londoners that still roll up at offices and who tend, thankfully, to spend most of their visit outside in the square, leaving the pub to wusses like me who prefer to see the bar from where I'm drinking and to avoid both smoke and cold. The pub - or is it a bar? - is adjacent to a very old church, St Botolph's, a survivor of the Great Fire of London, so it goes back a fair bit and provides a bit of contrast, as Aldgate Square is a recent invention.

There are two cask beer lines here, and they are served free flow through a wall of steel behind the bar. I always think that the beer suffers a tad when served this way, but here, while not the peak of cask conditioning, it is usually in decent nick and rewardingly in London, under a fiver a pint.  The manager, John, is a great lad and always happy to chat. The staff are efficient and friendly, so we like it and enjoy it too for people watching. The London office crew in the wild is always worth a look and an earwig. They really are a genre apart and a throwback to teatime drinking, which happens less often elsewhere. 

A short wander away, right under the Gherkin, you’ll find Craft - a pub that, on paper, should be an absolute gem. Soft lighting, exposed brick, big windows, loads of breweriana - ticks all the right boxes. Except… the cask beer, which, more often than not, is over-vented and flat as a pancake. My usual tactic here? Try the cask, pick the least bad one, then immediately wash it away with a pint of London Black. Works every time. That said, it’s a lovely spot - just proceed with caution when ordering the real stuff.

So two pubs in one small area of EC3. Somewhat surprisingly, I feel, as mentioned above, you can trust the cask more in the one that isn't called Craft, than the one that is, though that certainly wins as a pub. 

(I'll draw a veil over the appalling beer in Fullers Trinity Bell next door to Cask. You could have poached an egg in the beer and it was flat as a pancake. Just the sort of stuff that puts people off cask forever, and not at all what you expect from Fullers managed house.)

The next day - Nunhead - Why?  Honestly, because we kept seeing the 78 bus going there and thought , why not? And you know what? Great decision. The ride itself was a treat, with top-deck views as we rolled over Tower Bridge, down the Old Kent Road, through the madness of Peckham Rye’s high street, and then… Nunhead. Which, it turns out, isn’t exactly buzzing. We checked out the local bakery (nice), butcher (also nice), fishmonger (smelly), and spotted two pubs. The Shepherd Neame boozer didn't appeal - well - its Shep's innit so - not this time for the Man of Kent. So we headed into The Old Nun’s Head, more or less across the road.

It was pretty deserted  mid-afternoon, but we were greeted warmly by the young barman (who confirmed no cask at the Shep's pub, so a good call) and after a taste of a local beer - awful - we settled for a Northern beer, Vocation Bread and Butter, which was fine, but needed a few more drinkers to liven it up. The pub itself was a mix of old and quirky new, and as the barman started laying out reserved signs on almost every table, it was clear this place gets packed in the evening - probably when the beer is at its best too.  All in all we liked it, so it is recommended.

A short stroll through fairly villagey backstreets, and we popped out just by the Angel Oak, a fine old roadside boozer which promised - according to WhatPub - four cask beers and delivered absolutely none.  Yes, I've advised the local CAMRA branch.  Big windows again - they really work, I'd say.  Other than us and a few local young women, a couple with babies, the pub was empty but somehow the warmth, the low chat and the lack of any music, made this a strangely enjoyable visit. We sipped our tasteless keg craft (Kona Big Wave I think) and simply enjoyed this large, but cosy bar, with attractive tables, low seats and fine views of the common and busy road outside.  Despite the beer, we left with a degree of reluctance.

Last up on this jaunt, the White Horse on Peckham Rye.  This is a fine old ex Charrington house, which is pretty well unspoilt inside, with much original wood panelling, a public bar in front and a well appointed (in 1970 style) lounge at the rear. A very warm welcome from the barmaid, who advised me it was happy hour, and provided me with a decent quality pint of Five Points Pale. Locals nodded and one even spoke to us. It was a journey into the past and an enjoyable one at that as we watched people, just enjoying the pub, some hardy souls even sitting outside.It would have been rude not to have a second, so we did, before nipping round the corner and the 78 back to SE1.

Summing up the trip to Nunhead, we really enjoyed the three fairly random pubs we visited. OK, the beer didn't really reach top standards, though I reckon both with real ale would have done so with a little more turnover and quality control. The Angel Oak struck me as the type of pub that would have greatly benefitted from a couple - no more - of decent cask ales. But then again, it is a Greene King House. 

So, no disasters in Nunhead, Disappointment in EC3 and going back to Nunhead/Peckham, a fab afternoon out and three very different pubs, which all appealed in their own way. 

Top tip if you is very old like me. Jump on a bus and see where it takes you. It is free after all. Even if it isn't, it is a great way to see London.

 Shortly after, I watched a Tweedy Pubs report on the 37 lost pubs of the Old Kent Road. Only two remain. Knocked 'em in the Old Kent Road!  Tweedy Pubs is well recommended.

Blogger wouldn't let me place my photo of the White Horse without distorting everything else, so there is a link instead.

 

 

London - A Small Cask Snapshot

I was in London last week for a few days and decided on a whim to have one entire day - or thereabouts - just drinking cask. "Unwise" I hear you say and of course I can see why, but arriving at a somewhat gloomy and rainy Euston and just as gloomy Aldgate, somehow pints of lager didn't appeal.

As usual, we inspected the flat and having confirmed all is well, E ritually dealt with a predictable pile of post, which nowadays is almost entirely junk and then, being creatures of habit, even though this habit is separated by weeks not days or hours, we made tracks, as we always do for the Aldate Tap. 

The Aldgate Tap is very much a pub of the City. Usually in the summer, hordes of people dressed in that smart casual way of work nowadays, haunt the outside area, leaving the interior pretty free for those of us who like to sit inside and people watch.  Harder to do that last Thursday though, not only had that aforementioned pesky and somewhat wintry rain driven many inside, but much of the pub - bar really - had been cordoned off for a corporate Christmas do. Bank of America, I think. And no, I couldn't find out their tab number, but there was a sprinkling of Christmas jumpers and rather a few who didn't seem that familiar with pubs.

Nonetheless, John, the Manager greeted us warmly and we quickly, being veterans in every sense, spotted a group leaving a small table and a swift wriggle later, we were seated. John recommended the Kent Brewery Goldings Bitter. It was pretty good by the third pint and unmistakeably Southermn in style. You can usually tell. It needed drinking through to "fresh from the cask", but it was a good start as we watched the amateur drinkers, unsure of what to do with empty glasses, lay them lengthwise inside each other on the floor behind tables. (I took them back to the bar before someone trod on them.) Still, it was jolly enough and the beer was under a fiver!

Next day, after lunch in Charlotte Street, we called into the next door Fitzroy Tavern. One of Sam Smith's empire, this excellent and expensively refurbished historical boozer was, sadly, almost completely empty on a Friday around half past two. Six of your British pounds for Old Brewery Bitter. It wasn't bad, but it too needed more throughput, and my pint was clearly in the lines for a bit. I'd still recommend the pub, but even by London standards, they are pushing it a bit on price, the bottles, particularly, are eye wateringly expensive. Not all Sam's pubs in London are as nice as this one, and price may be a factor in emptiness. If you pay top dollar, you want something decent from it. An empty Sam's pub offers little in terms of atmosphere. Top spotters tip?  In a Sam Smith's pub, the house whisky is still labelled "Rochdale and Manor Brewery".

Moving on, through Soho and various Christmas lights, we ended up in the Strand.  I've always liked the Coal Hole and we nipped in. Touristy maybe, but it is a proper pub.  It was rammed, but again after a few minutes we got a table to perch at. In the meantime, I'd admonished the barman for trying to slop me with the half filled glass under the tap trick. The dodgy one being switched for the clean one he'd made sure I'd seen in his other hand. Not so fast, Matey. I was doing that to keg customers 50 years ago. A fresh pint of Titanic Plum Porter was so good, I had another. He didn't try the same trick twice. Top tip. Always watch the pour a little from the side of the pumps in tourist traps. You'll spot it and call it out easier if they try something on. 

And then, another Sam's. The Lyceum is an old haunt too, and the beer there was fine in that Old Brewery Bitter sort of way. Worth six quid? No, but a busy pub which could maybe do with an upgrade.

We caught the 15 bus home and went for a last beer in the Sir Sydney Smith in Dock St. Now this is a lovely pub near our flat. A former Truman's house, it has been sensitively refurbished - it used to look as though you could film Goodnight Sweetheart without changing a thing.  It was busy, and I knew trouble was afoot when the server put my glass under the handpump and splashed beer into it while pouring a half of lager. It was the worst pint of Vocation Bread and Butter I'd ever had, but I supped it quietly and left most of it. I hadn't the heart to pull this hard-working lass up about it. Someone should have trained her better.

At our table we started talking with a couple of lads who'd lived locally for a few years, They too had started on cask and abandoned it so we enjoyed Hofmeister instead and swapped tales about the area. We even exchanged details and promised to meet again.

So, while the pub didn't deliver on cask, it did on being a nice place to be in and for atmosphere and friendliness. Overall, the London cask bag was mixed, but on the whole, it could probably do better. 

A bottle of Organic Cider or Perry is the equivalent of £11.84 a pint. Eek.  The rest of their prices are pretty dodgy too, but the did have Dark Mild at £4. Click on image to see details.

I didn't repeat the experiment the  next day, but boy is London getting expensive. £7.80 a pint for Camden Hells in an ordinary Farringdon pub?

Perfect - Exceptional. A Rarity

Some of you, CAMRA members particularly, should know about CAMRA's National Beer Scoring System whereby you rate a cask beer drunk in a pub, on a score of one to five. Rather than explain it all here in my words, here is what the Campaign has to say about it in terms of why and how.

"Scoring beer in pubs is really easy!

The National Beer Scoring System (NBSS) is a 0-5 (0 = No cask ale available) point scale for judging beer quality in pubs.

It is an easy to use system that has been designed to assist CAMRA branches in selecting pubs for the Good Beer Guide and also monitor beer quality by encouraging CAMRA members from any part of the world to report beer quality on any pub in the UK.

If you are a CAMRA member, we want you to tell us about the quality of beer in the pubs you visit.

If you are not a member, why not join Europe’s most successful consumer organisation?

What Do the Scores Mean?

• 0: No cask ale available
• 1: Poor - Barely drinkable
• 2: Average - Drinkable but unremarkable
• 3: Good - Enjoyable enough to make you consider another round
• 4: Very Good - Stands out for its excellence
• 5: Perfect - Exceptional, a rarity
  

Right. All got it?  In our local branch we encourage its use. Of course - and many may not know this - there are, behind the scenes tools, to eliminate as much as possible, those who try and manipulate pubs into the Good Beer Guide. This may be by giving unrealistically high scores on a regular basis or whatever. Additionally in our branch, we have a hybrid system where the NBSS scores inform debate and decisions, but do not dictate the outcome.

Now over the years I probably don't score beers as much as I ought to, but I regularly do. I am probably quite a strict scorer, given that I judge beer in competitions and also that over the years, I know what its what.  So, that's a long winded way of saying, until now, I have never given a five.

So let's get to the point. It had to happen and last Friday, in an infrequent visit to our local Wetherspoons, I gave a beer a five. What was it I hear you scream? Well, perhaps not surprisingly given the quality of the brewer and the beer, it was Thornbridge Jaipur.

Why a five? Well, this was perfectly brewed, clear and untainted with no off flavours, at a perfect temperature and was bursting with condition. The body and mouthfeel were perfect. The glass was spotless. In my mind I went over everything. Could it be improved in a normal pub environment? Not as far as I could tell. It was, simply, faultless.

Now this was an ordinary Wetherspoons, albeit one which is a first time Good Beer Guide entry.  People complain - usually through snobbery in my view about Wetherspoons - but like all good pubs, if you have someone who knows what they are doing in the cellar and a pub that is well run, then you are in with a chance.

Speaking to the Manager a while ago, The Harbord Harbord in Middleton has built up a following for cask beer on the basis of offering one blond beer, one dark and one strong one, plus the usual suspects, in tip-top condition. It is working. Well done them.

Now you will see from the photograph that somewhat oddly, the Jaipur is priced cheaper than Doom Bar.  If you wonder about the low pricing of the guest beers, it applies to a few JDW outlets in this area, either where they want to build up the cask following, or where they feel the customer base needs an incentive, due to low disposable income. 

I only had three pints of the perfect beer, having only intended one while I waited on my bus home and three very nice pints of JW Lees Plum Pudding elsewhere. Needless to say, I was late for tea, bollocked by E and got an Uber home with my beer savings. Spread the wealth and all that. I was also in bed early, but boy was it worth it.

(More) Bad News and (a little) Good News

Well it didn't take quite as long as most of us would have imagined, but the inevitable has happened. Carsberg Marstons Brewing has decided, after announcing the closure of Banks's Brewery and saying that it would not result in a loss of brands - also known as someone's beloved beers - that they are discontinuing no less than eight cask beers and three others. As Pub Curmudgeon remarked, "it might have been easier if they had just told us what is left." 

Brands such as Bombardier which was once as ubiquitous as Doom Bar is now, the Mansfield range - unless something does remain, but that isn't clear - Jennings Cumberland, and more will cease to be available from the end of the year.   Even iconic beers such as Bank's Mild and Marston's Old Empire (despite its slightly dodgy name) haven't been spared the axe. But don't worry, you can still get McEwan's Export, which nowadays is mainly a beer sold in supermarkets.  That's all right then.

Of course, a cynic might say that these are lacklustre beers which nobody will really miss, but this is surely the thin end of a very predictable wedge which will inevitably result in even more brand loss and further diminishing of choice.  It also gives a clear indication of the simple fact that if Carlsberg says something is safe, be deeply suspicious. Its record speaks for itself. Their total retreat from cask beer is now much more than a blurred and indistinct dot on the horizon.  It is a clear and predictable reality.  It is a pity too, if that is their intention, that they didn't offer the discontinued brands to someone else who might have made a better fist of them.

Now does this matter? Well, not if you don't care for the future of British indigenous beer styles and the fact that foreign ownership does not seem to have brought much stability to the UK beer market. Prepare for more of the same I'd say. Fewer brands means less choice and the restricted nature of  entry to bar counters due to ties and contracts means you can't expect the independent sector to take up the slack- much as they'd like to. Too much of the market simply isn't open to them.  Sadly the cask market in many areas will continue to be dominated by a smaller set of poorly designed beers, brewed as weakly as possible, down to a price.  Seek independent and family brewers while you can.

So what's the good news? I read that Marble Brewery in Manchester has restored Pint to its original 3.9% from 3.4%, apparently in response to customer demand.  Well done for customer power, and it is good to see this small reversal in the march towards weaker beers.  At the same time, I read that Acorn Brewing has returned to the original owners from the business development company that had control.  This is good news for those of us that like Acorn beer and I feel their future is now a little more secure and frankly, any good news in the beer game is worth a mention.

Win some, lose some I suppose, but I've a feeling there will be many more losses than wins coming along the road.

I had the pleasure of two pints of the fantastic Gorlovka Stout at the weekend and at 6% it was glorious.

Of the brands mentioned above, I feel that Banks's Mild could have some kind of future in the right hands, but it isn't going to happen.  If you can completely feck up Tetley Bitter, nothing is impossible.

Benchmark

Back in the day, when pubs weren't structured and laid out as they are now, the best room and public bar were usually tricked out in bench seating.  In fact, bench seating was the norm really and poseur tables and armchairs and a lot of modern trappings like tables more suited to a restaurant were much rarer beasts. It allowed a lot of people to sit around the walls of pubs and created room for circulation and standing drinkers. Pubs were then, in many cases I suppose, a little more spartan, along the lines of a "a pub is for drinking in", but rarely uncomfortable.  Many though, were convivial and cosy, even when they were big - and large pubs were then very common indeed - they weren't, in the main, specifically aimed at diners.  I'm talking, probably from God knows when, until I first came to England, so the 1980s and onwards through the nineties, until things slowly but surely morphed into the kind of pubs we see today.

There was then, too, much more standing at the bar.  In fact, standing generally. I'm often amused nowadays, in some pubs, mainly with young staff, who when you are standing at the bar, and can clearly see you have a drink in front of you, ask in that tiresome way "You all right?" It seems they are totally discombobulated, and indeed nonplussed - rattled even - by a punter choosing to stand at the bar and drink their beer on their hind legs. More of this later, as this is what has given rise to this post.

Back then as nowadays, you'd enter a pub, look around and decide where you would consume your beer or whatever your chosen drink. It would be entirely conventional, if on your own, to either stand at the bar and enjoy your pint. Or, if the pub was rammed, find a space on a bench seat and join others, more than likely not of your acquaintance. In both cases, it would be rare not to find a conversation being struck up. Even more common, in a busy pub, if you looked round, someone on a bench would shout "Squeeze in here Son" and everyone would "hutch up" to make room. As an aside, drinking on your own was, I would suggest, much more common then and not remarked on, never mind being looked on pejoratively or askance.

As a seasoned pub goer through six decades, of course I have noticed that pubs have changed - or evolved if you prefer. I have written in the past about house style when most pubs were owned by breweries, but that isn't it exactly.  I suspect the disconnect from vertical ownership speeded internal design changes, as did changes to drinking patterns and customer preferences. That and the march of time plus the accompanying desperate need to attract customers in a declining market.  Pubs we opened out to become one big space. In most cases, public bars were removed for more eating space, or to simply remove the need to have two bars and two sets of staff looking after them.  Tables aimed at four or six people became the norm, with uncomfortable high tables dotted about (not so attractive as you get older and one's clambering is no longer up to scratch) and, importantly, in many cases bench seating was ripped out.

Which brings me back to why I am writing this.  The removal of bench seating isn't universal. In the case of two of my local brewers, JW Lees and Joseph Holt, even in their recently refurbished pubs, bench seating forms a part of the offer.  The problem is, though, that few know how to use it any more.

Last Friday, early evening, I met my wife in the Roebuck, a recent acquisition by Joseph Holt, which has since been extensively and expensively refurbished. It has proved extremely popular and is the nearest pub to me. I like Joey's bitter, so good news.  It has plentiful bench seating of various types. Now, I like the room on the right as you go in. I arrived, and the place was buzzing.  I glanced round and while no tables were free, I noted that in the two large benched areas below the windows, there was plenty of room. Well, if people moved up a bit.  I ordered our two drinks and surveyed the scene standing at the bar while waiting for E. Others were looking for seats too, and I noticed two people approach a group who were using the area on my left. There was room. They asked, "Is anyone sitting there?" and were told that there was, and they were at the bar. Not so, but the enquirers however sought solace elsewhere.

In the meantime, I had been asked "Are you all right there?" as above, despite having two drinks in front of me. Ho Hum. The other area of bench seating had two people sitting there. I should add that each area has a table or tables opposite the benches.  They were sitting opposite each other, leaving three seats to their left and around five on the window bench. To their left, a group of teachers were spread out. (I know this because they later told me.) I approached and as a politeness - as you do - said, "Is it all right if we sit here?" The male, probably older than me, said "Well you can sit there", gesturing in the direction of the teachers. Hmm. I pointed out that the pub was busy and that they were taking up between two, around nine seats, but the teachers said they'd squeeze up, and with some mutterings on both sides, the matter was left there.

Now thinking on, you often see in busy pubs, (like busy trains), coats and bags covering free seats. And these days, unlike the habit in Germany, it is unusual to see strangers sharing a table. I recall last winter, in the Commercial in London, asking a couple if we could sit at a bench, where six could be accommodated.  They thought I was asking them to move elsewhere, until I explained that I just wanted them to shift their arses along to make room, a notion that seemed alien to them.

Oddly, this aspect of pub etiquette isn't really covered much at all in t'interweb. Google is pretty well silent about it, amongst plenty of other advice about how to behave in pubs, but I'll add another point. While seated on a bench, any adjacent table is fair game to rest your pint on, unless someone is eating at that table. 

Moving on, this reluctance to share with strangers is covered by social anthropologist Kate Fox in her excellent book "Watching the English" . It pertains to public transport, but I believe also to public houses, though in that case for sure, it should be overcome.

"The Denial Rule

Our main coping mechanism is a form of what psychologists call ‘denial’: we try to avoid acknowledging that we are among a scary crowd of strangers, and to maintain as much privacy as possible, by pretending that they do not exist – and, much of the time, pretending that we do not exist either. The denial rule requires us to avoid talking to strangers, or even making eye contact with them, or indeed acknowledging their presence in any way unless absolutely necessary."

It need not be so, so here are a few simple rules to follow when encountering bench seating in a pub.

Rule 1:  Expect to share. You are in a pub. A pub is a shared space

Rule 2:  If sitting in the middle, expect to have people sit on either side of you

Rule 3: In a booth style, if sitting at the apex, rule 2 applies

Rule 4: Don't try to fill empty places with coats and bags

Rule 5: Any table adjacent is communal, unless eating

Rule 6: Be ready to hutch up

Rule7: Be welcoming and friendly. 

Rule 8: Remember Rule 1 always

So where does this leave us.  Well, if you are in a pub and someone asks if they can sit adjacent to you, your first thought should be, assuming it is possible and reasonable to do so,  "Of course, I'll hutch up a bit".  If your thoughts are otherwise, either don't go to the pub, or learn a bit of basic pub and human etiquette. It is written down for you now, so if in doubt, cut and keep.

In fact, when out in Manchester yesterday, bench seating was actually common, so maybe I have overestimated its demise. But it was mid-afternoon and quiet.

I recommend, as I have before, Kate's book. The link above is a free download.  Well worth doing, especially if you are clueless about how pubs should work.