Plenty Kisses and No Frogs

A few short weeks ago, my local CAMRA Branch had one of our days out by coach. This time - and we have been there before - Skipton in North Yorkshire - was the venue. No great distance from us, probably 45 or so miles depending on where you measure it from, and a busy market town with lots of pubs beckoned. What would it be like? Now, the way we operate, we aim to get to whatever venue it is by around 12 noon. On this chilly but bright Saturday, we were dropped off at the coach park bang in the centre, more or less on the dot of twelve.

On these events, our social secretary usually prepares a list of pubs to visit. These are recommendations, not a route to be followed, as naturally we are all free to wander where we choose, as long as we are back at the announced departure time. The bus does not wait around.  This time our list was around ten pubs and micropubs, and as soon as we were let loose, off we went, dragging our thirsts behind us. Of course, we don't visit pubs mob handed, people deciding with their cronies where and when they'll go first, if at all, but inevitably groups bump into each other and exchange information. That's always handy, and it is great to meet our lot along the way.

Skipton is a great mix of pub types and micropubs, café bars and micropubs, quite a few of which didn't exist on our last visit around four years ago, but my little group started at a couple of old canalside favourites.  These weren't lacking at all on the cask ale front. Another thing is that the town is compact and while there are pubs further out, such was the quality, ambience and friendliness, particularly of the micropubs, that we found ourselves enjoying the places so much, that sometimes a couple of beers were decided upon, so good was the place and company. In fact, we got nowhere near our list of ten before the witching hour of bus departure, but did in fact, on recommendation from fellow topers, venture off-piste with great success. It was a happy bunch of CAMRA members that departed back to Lancashire, although we left with great reluctance.

So, what does this all tell you? Firstly, when cask beer standards are so high - and I didn't hear of anyone getting a duff pint - as a pub or bar, you simply have to raise your standards, or you will be left behind.  Where standards are high, you can shift a lot more beer, which in turn means you can offer greater choice without diminishing quality. This is the virtuous circle that cask beer needs to thrive.

How does this apply elsewhere?  While nothing is certain, it all starts with having exemplary standards in serving cask beer. Do that, and you should get the custom needed to maintain it. Then, hopefully, others will follow. Cask beer dead? Not a bit of it. Just do it well and see how that helps it thrive and survive.

 This is happening in practice in my CAMRA branch area. Rochdale has an increasingly great cask offer - and it has been pretty good for years. There the pubs get together to offer weekly discounts, annual ale trails and more. Bury is up and coming and the Oldham real ale revival is well under way. 

Another point to make was the great welcomes we all had. Locals keen to chat, friendly bar staff and great beer. Dour Yorkshire folks? Not a bit of it. As always, get the offer right, and you are much more likely to succeed.  Get it wrong and you certainly won't.

I haven't mentioned craft beer. When cask is this good, why would you?

Well and Bucket

Another day in London, another new experience planned. Love it.  In a persistent drizzle I set off from the flat and headed for Brick Lane. Now one thing about Brick Lane is that fifteen years ago, the place boasted many little Asian caffs.  OK, they didn't do rice and three like the Manchester ones, but I liked them.  Cheap and cheerful and home cooking - what's not to like?.  Gradually these were replaced by more glamorous ones and a load of pests trying to persuade you to come in and eat.  Now things are swinging back.  More little caffs have re-appeared and the number of shiny restaurants has diminished though the pests remain.  All well and good.

But man does not live by curry fantasies alone, so I plodded on to Bethnall Green Rd, turned right and crossing the road, a few yards along, is the re-opened Well and Bucket; broad in the front with huge picture windows.  Promising.  Inside is a big square.  Clearly this place has been opened out from its previous existence, but damaged tiled walls speak of a previous grandeur, while the island bar - I do love an island bar - gleams.  The first thing you see when you walk in is a bank of handpumps, which is as it should be.  Handpumps make a pub look like a pub.  The craft beer type should not worry though, as on one side is two arrays of fonts dedicated to the craft keg, with a well chosen range.  Seating is a good mix of church pew type stuff, large wooden tables, stools at the bar and great floorboards.  Beer lists with prices are on every table and at the bar. It was immediately likeable.

I wasn't there for the décor though,  A pint of  Citra from Caveman in Kent was ordered.  I made an immediate blunder and ended up with a dreaded dimple mug, but that's what you get when looking round and not paying attention.  The place was empty, but passed the Tandleman test with colours if not flying, at least fluttering strongly. The beer was at the correct temperature and was well conditioned.  Bingo.  I deduct points for the dodgy glass and for the fact that the barmaid had never heard of a a sparkler, never mind had one to enhance my brew, but a straight glass was produced on request for my second pint, so no real issue there.

Reluctantly I left as I had a grim mission to undertake.  A visit to BrewDog Shoreditch, a mere 100 yards away.  I say grim because I loved Mason and Taylor who occupied the spot before, with its friendly staff and good cask beer.  BD has moved the bar to the window space, but this is a dark pub at the best of times and I didn't think the low ceilings, lack of light, grey walls, grey bar and grey BD fonts did much for it.  It was all kind of gloomy.  A cheery Weegie was behind the bar though and I ordered a half of Punk, which was ordinary in the extreme and a taste of Amarillo, which had promise. The place was nearly empty and there was nothing more I wanted to drink, so I drank up and left.   But I have been and it was better before. In my opinion of course. Prices, for those interested in such a thing, were frightening.

Shaking off the gloom was needed, so I headed to the Carpenter's Arms which I've written about before. I quite like it here, though the remarkable taciturnity of the staff (in a pretty empty pub) may be off putting to some.  A new beer was on the bar.  I ordered it.  A pint of Sharp's Panzerfaust, described as a "Black Gose Beer".  This is a collaboration with Beer Writer Adrian Tierney-Jones, who amongst other florid guff, describes it as "a very elegant black IPA".  I describe it more as a porter, but what's in a name? It was decent, in good nick and I enjoyed it.

Heading home, I called in to the Pride of Spitalfields, which I've been going to, off and on, for 15 years. It was busy and I immediately was engaged in conversation (about railways no less) by a couple of very nice old gents.  This is a pub as some may remember them - friendly, unchanged, unpretentious and bursting with life and character.  The Crouch Vale Brewer's Gold wasn't bad either.

On Sunday I took E to The Well and Bucket.  It was jumping, the beer was good, the food looked great (I fancy the oysters and the sliders looked good too)  and it had a representative mix of people in.  We even  had a nice chat with a lady who remembered it in its original incarnation having lived across the road and she described it to us, which was nice.

E loved it.  We'll be back again. And again I imagine. 

Someone did tweet me about the hopelessness of the staff. OK they seemed pretty keen on hugging and cuddling each other, but they served quickly enough and were cheerful.  That's a good start.

Customer Service

After meeting the Chairman of the CAMRA Review Group yesterday we needed a little refreshment, so nipped into the Bank (Nicolsons) for some beer. I chose unwisely, but that was the triumph of hope over experience, so my own fault. I've never found a Rudgate beer yet that I like, though it may well be that Rudgate beers just don't agree with me in some way. None of this is the point though, as I want to mention customer service.

The pub was almost empty, but the bar staff were exemplary. "Our" young barmaid in particular was cheerful and attentive, with samples happily offered (I still bought that blasted Rudgate though) and banter exchanged. She chatted to us old fogies and made us feel wanted in the pub. Unbidden, when she heard us discussing Stella Black which was available, she darted over with a taster and mentioned it was on offer. I remarked on her cheerfulness and she replied simply "This is my job, I might as well enjoy it!" Refreshing.

Now the real reason I mention her, is that this isn't the first time this lass has treated this customer so well. Earlier in December she was just as attentive and professional when I was there with a different mate and she was the same with all her customers both then and yesterday. Well done I'd say and a pleasure to encounter customer service at its best.

I thought the Stella Black to be not that bad actually, but it was only a taster.

Hawkshead Brewery

Picture yourself in a rain sodden Cumbrian village on an October Wednesday. This is power shower rain, drumming down relentlessly, with the kind of ferocious insistence that makes you wonder if you should start building an ark. Fortunately for us, we weren't seeking a cup of tea refuge from a tent or caravan, nor traipsing some God forsaken Cumbrian fell, but heading for a beery bright light in all the gloom, the Hawkshead Brewery Hall in Staveley.

I first encountered the building last year when judging beer at the Society of Independent Brewers (SIBA) North competition and was very glad to be back. It is in a somewhat unlikely location, just off the single main road, in an industrial estate, amongst all sorts of other odds and ends of business, in what is a small Cumbrian village, much as any other. It can probably be fairly described as a large metal shed. But this a actually a rather remarkable place. The brewery and hall are the brainchild of Alex Brodie, a former BBC Foreign Correspondent, who exchanged a life of danger, for the perhaps just as precarious, but less fatal career of micro brewing. He started out in Hawkshead itself, but soon outgrew his previous premises and moved here. It is very impressive. Belying its external industrial look, it is all light wood and metal inside, with benches and wooden tables and a warm atmosphere. The stainless steel, German built brewery is off to one side and can be seen through viewing panels. The barstaff are friendly and welcoming.

When we called Alex was in a meeting, so we sampled the beers on offer. There were five Hawkshead beers on the bar, but we all plumped for Windermere Pale, a 3.5% golden coloured hoppy ale, more of which later. Despite what might be thought of as a remote location, on a bad midweek day, the hall was fairly busy. Apparently it is packed at weekends. It also holds a couple of large beer festivals each year, which are always sell-outs. It is clearly doing something right. We marvelled at our beer. It was pale, golden, properly conditioned and clear as a bell. It packed in so much hoppy taste and wasn't, unlike a lot of weak beers, thin. It was superb. Hawkshead Bitter is its "big" brother. It's a proper light brown session beer, with a good body and an easy drinking style, through to a bitter lingering finish, weighing in at only 3.7%. We were to encounter it again many times in the forthcoming days and it didn't disappoint once.

When Alex joined us for a pint, we asked him about the Windermere Pale. It has a complex hopping regime he says, with Fuggles, Styrian Goldings and Bramling Cross among others, but it is the addition of the wonderful Citra hop that really brings this beer to your notice. Alex is brimming with energy and enthusiasm. Despite having a beer that would make other brewers weep with jealousy he says " I think we can squeeze a bit more flavour in." We discuss the Citra. He has bagged what he reckons is the lion's share of what is still available in the UK. A definite "A" for foresight there.

Nor is Alex a man to rest on his success. He takes us round the existing brewery, then through a plastic curtain to the large unit next door, which is being transformed into a brewery extension, further bar, kitchen and shop. No cobbled together job this, with hand crafted ash everywhere and in pride of place, two towering, gleaming, 75 barrel dual purpose fermenters/conditioning tanks, needed as they simply can't keep up with current and projected demand. It is very impressive. Heading back to the brewery we look at the brewing operation. After fermentation all the beers are held in conditioning tanks for three days. This allows the beers to mature a little and to drop out some more trub. It makes them astonishingly clear and clean tasting, while allowing a very healthy viable yeast count for secondary fermentation. It is this kind of attention to detail which makes the beer so good.

Back in the bar we try the remaining beers and discuss the forthcoming Great Northern Beer Festival, which Alex is organising from the SIBA end. I'm involved too. It's an ambitious project and I'm glad that Alex is the SIBA man. You just know he'll pull it off. He's that kind of person. As Alex heads back to work, we have a taste of the Organic Stout which impresses too, before braving the elements once more. By this time, the rain has reduced to a downpour and we head to the local pub for lunch. Of course Hawkshead Bitter is on the bar.

It really is heartening to see a brewery doing so well with what might be called mainstream beers. We encountered them all over Cumbria and it was easy to see why they are so popular. While there is always a place in brewing for innovation, extremes and odd ingredients, there can still be success to be had by making beers that aren't too strong and that people want to neck by the pint. Long may it remain so.

Alex is second left with the "boys".

The Jolly Butchers

Surprisingly, to me anyway, there is a bus a five minute walk away from home number 2 in London E1, direct to the door of the Jolly Butchers in Stoke Newington. Stoke Newington sounds far away and exotic, but despite the half hour plus on the bus, it is only two or three miles away from the City and is a posher pause on a cosmopolitan journey which takes you from a war damaged and never repaired East End, through to Vietnam and Turkey all on the same straight road. From the top of the 67 you could see the changing environment, with so many pubs that are no more, but once populated every corner. A lost world and a reminder that fings ain't wot they used to be.

Pete Brown wrote about the Jolly Butchers here and we thought it worth a visit despite the somewhat ambivalent remarks in some pub comment sites. To me, it seemed to be trying to do something right and different. We arrived at around 15.30 and Sunday lunch was still in full swing. The pub seemed populated by Observer subscribing couples, studiously reading the unreadable, while ignoring each other and a plethora of young people drinking coloured cider. It was an anthropologist's wet dream. We were singularly disconcerted to find ourselves the oldest there by a good 20 years.

The beer choice was good. Two from Dark Star, one each from Thornbridge, Brew Dog, Crouch Vale and Brodies. I started on the Brew Dog Trashy Blonde which was tired really, with diactetyl and wet dog - no pun intended. E had Crouch Vale Brewer's Gold which was as good as it always is. Then a couple of Dark Star American Pale which didn't disappoint. But we both knew that the real draw was yet to be sampled. Jaipur. That's your man. It was full of condition and so very tasty.

We had a great spot from which to observe proceedings and you know, we both liked the place enormously. It was buzzing and pleasant, light and airy. The food looked good, the place was clean and well looked after and the staff were unremittingly pleasant and helpful. You could tell the intentions are good. It is a big space though and it may not be so conducive on a wet Monday night, but putting that thought aside, we'll certainly go back.

Of course there has to be a down side. Stupid, handled, dimpled glasses do nothing for the presentation of modern beer and of course we come to temperature. All the beers varied between 17 and nearly 19 degrees C. What is all that all about? Getting the cellar and dispense temperature so wrong is spoiling a good ship for a hap'orth of tar. This is a good place. It should be great. Sort it out.

Harping On

More about warm beer in London? No. Not really. After traipsing round every sportswear shop in Covent Garden (and there is a lot of them) looking unsuccessfully for footwear for her indoors, a pint was called for. I can never resist Wrasslers Stout in Porterhouse Brewing, so we popped in. While E had a couple of halves of Oyster Stout, which was a little sweet and fruity for my taste, I had possibly the most bitter example of Wrasslers I have ever had. It was no worse for that, bursting with bitterness, with a dusty hop store nose and a long, long, bitter finish. One wasn't enough. I quite like the pub too for its buzziness and style, but its inherent gloom doesn't for me at least, make for a long stay. One note of caution though. In nearly an hour there, we didn't see anyone else drinking stout at all.

On the way to the 15 bus, we have to pass the Harp in Chandos Place. Now this is a pub I really do like. Busy, bustling, interesting decor and lots to look at and enjoy. It has a local following as well as those like me, who pop in now and then. The staff are quick, friendly and attentive and it has Dark Star, with enough others to go at to offer something for everyone. It has character from top to bottom and is a living lesson on how to run a pub well.

I like Hophead. It has just enough hoppiness not to offend the unwary and is easy enough drinking to have more than one. So we had two. OK, it was a nudge over the optimum serving temperature, but still cool enough to thoroughly enjoy and I suppose you sometimes have to make allowance for Londoners liking of beer on the warm side.

Three of the Best

It was one of these days when you encounter the beer you want to drink at the peak of its condition. To get one in a pub that is just perfect is a pleasure, to get two is the icing on the cake and to get three is the cake itself.

I'd been put on the edge of annoyance though earlier on Saturday by a tweet about Wetherspoons in Derby and the twit (sorry twitterer) feeling "unclean". Well here's some simple advice which works every time - "Just don't go there". They'll hardly miss anyone that thinks that way, as they sell the most cask beer of any JDW in the chain. How do I know this? Well I was told by the manager of the one that is second and chasing hard for number one, the Regal Moon in Rochdale, the venue for my perfect trio of beers. Such stereotypical and snobbish remarks do a disservice to excellent managers who are rising above the norm to sell great beer in a big pub chain. JDW's, like all such megaliths, have good and bad. The good are very good and shouldn't be carelessly denigrated without an actual and specific reason. Managers such as Chris at Rochdale are dedicated to getting more and more of their regulars drinking good beer and attracting others to do likewise. If sales are anything to go by, they are succeeding. He proudly boasts that he probably sells less John Smith's Smooth than any other major JDW. That's a good thing in my book. OK - rant over.

Now back to beer. Those of us who live up north have a plethora of great breweries that brew cask beer that you want to drink lots of. One such is West Yorkshire based Ossett who have a super range of beers. Ossett also operate two other micro breweries and run 14 pubs. Saturday's beer was Silver King, a pale beer, using lager malt with a distinct bitter, citrus finish. It is very quaffable. Less known, but producing some of the best pale and hoppy beers in the north is Millstone from Mossley, nestling in the Lancashire side of the Pennines. True Grit is full bodied, bitter from the late addition of hops, with a distinct and lasting hoppy finish and is very, very drinkable. It was on top form on Saturday and provided a perfect route map along with Silver King to the piece de resistance, Jaipur IPA. What more can be said about this classic beer? Nothing really, except to say I've never had it better. It was truly, unutterably and dangerously delicious.

An excellent day was finished off with a tour of the Regal Moon's impressive cellar, part of which is pictured above.

Unexpected Pleasure

Sachsenhausen (not to be confused with the WW2 concentration camp of the same name, north of Berlin) is a suburb of Frankfurt. Unlike its neighbour just across the River Main, it mainly escaped the devastating air raids that saw Frankfurt's mediaeval, centre, the biggest in Germany, almost completely destroyed. This small piece of background perhaps explains why it is here, in this unspoiled, atmospheric, bohemian nook, that Frankfurt's night life and social quarter is based. Where we stayed, the twisted cobbled streets, with bars and restaurants galore, gave way to handsome, towering, Victorian tenements and tranquil streets enhanced every few yards by stately plane trees. Combined with the flower bedecked balconies, where residents were taking the air on a beautiful summer night, the call of birdsong and the sweet evening air, the whole area was to this author, simply enchanting.

Nestled in and around this area are Germany's cider houses. The best of them are around the grand, bustling, Schweizer Strasse and they too are quite stunning. Old, traditional and very reminiscent of Düsseldorf's Alt pubs, their narrow brick and red sandstone frontages invariably give way to a maze of rooms, corridors and courtyards. The best of them all is perhaps Apfelhaus Wagner, though its neighbour the Gemalten Haus pushes it close. In fairness, they are all damn good. Wagner has a large front room with dark wooded walls, long benches and more intimate tables, leads to a number of smaller rooms and courtyards where diners eat typically hearty food and drink the local cider. No beer is sold. On the left is the bar where all the action happens. There is a small stand up area parallel to it where you can watch the heavy stoneware cider jugs or bembels being filled. You buy cider by the glass or jug, but sharing is the way to go. At the end of the bar is a small schwemme or locals standing area, where ruddy cheeked habitués exchange noisy banter and commentary with the no nonsense waiters, who snap back gruff ripostes, but clearly love it. In a timeless scene, the multi faceted traditional glasses are filled from a height. The cider itself comes up by a sort of hosepipe from the cellar. One waiter fills the jugs, splashing the precious liquid into the waiting bembels with nonchalant ease and sliding them to white jacketed waiters who handle the heavy bembels with a casual confidence.

This is a place for the pub man as much as any I have been in. Though beer is not the drink, these are pubs. People come here to socialise with their friends and families. People watching, social discourse and laughter mix with the delicious aromas from the hearty meals. Every age is represented, from the soaks in the schwemme, to old ladies and gossipy young girls and lads who seem, on a Friday night, happy just to be there and part of it all, as was I.

I have said before in this blog that the most striking thing in Germany is the apparent social cohesion. This was it at its best - so much so that we returned again on Saturday to eat and enjoy the atmosphere again.

Oh and what of the cider? Very similar to a cider like Westons Farmhouse, with a slight cloudiness, a clean, unchallenging apple taste and a reasonable drinking strength of around 5.5%.

Size Matters

Well they do say that don't they? Of course it all depends on context and to some extent disposition, circumstance and perspective, but when it comes to cask beer containers, size matters very much and in a specific way. Size must equate to turnover and freshness. "Container" by the way, is the generic trade name for the vessel from which your beer is dispensed and is divided into various sizes, the most common of which is the nine or firkin, but eighteens (kilderkins or just kils for short)are still very common. They are both sub divisions of "barrel" which is 36 Imperial Gallons. There are others sizes too.

Why the lecture? Well, I like to read the blogs of various people in The Publican. Not just our own dear Pete Brown, but when he appears, Chris Maclean, who is a a Shep's landlord and old school. He therefore appeals to my way of seeing things by and large. In his latest column here, Chris calls for wider availability of the "pin", a vessel of 4.5 gallons which used to be common, (often seen on a stillage on the bar in winter and containing something dark, strong and warming,) but sometimes too, utilised in the cellar for slow moving beers.

If you've never seen a metal pin then you won't know how cute they are. That's part of the problem. They are very desirable, nickable even and they are relatively expensive to buy too. Modern automated cask washers often can't handle them, so they have to be hand washed, thus increasing costs. While they offer the possibility of fresher beer to low turnover outlets, they mean that less beer might be ordered from the brewery as publicans downsize to a pin. The upshot is that for all these reasons and more, most breweries simply don't supply them.

I moaned the other day about dodgy pints, though that was probably aimed more at breweries than publicans and while probably not what I had in mind, no doubt container size plays a part in some cases. Metal pins may well be too expensive an answer, but I can't help but think Chris has a point. Surely the breweries could do something to modify a polypin, say with an integrated demand valve that vented off excess CO2 - like the Race spile - and an adapted tap to which a line to the handpump could be readily attached - thus solving the cost problem? I sympathise with the argument that for some, offering a guest beer or a seasonal one in a pin, is just less risky and costly than buying a nine. It is less risky for the customer too in these outlets.

These days few breweries supply beer in anything other than nines or eighteens. A few high volume outlets will still take barrels and there is still the odd Joey Holt's house with the mighty hogshead, (54's) but surely anything that helps shift cask beer, maintains quality and offers more choice and less wastage must be worth a go?

I have visited Joseph Holt's store of hogsheads. An impressive sight indeed. One of my mates used to be a Rochdale and Manor Brewery Manager and before that, a drayman. He tells me tales of handling wooden hogsheads that would have you rushing for your steel toecaps!

Drinking a Pint of Cask is Like Making Love to a Beautiful Woman*

There is a fair degree of agreement that when cask beer is served at its best, that it is an unbeatable way of serving draught beer. Cool, but not cold, bursting with condition, clear, a tight creamy head - and yes it is better that way - full bodied, clean in aroma and so easy to drink. Of course your first mouthful in any beer is so important. It sets all your senses on red alert. "Is this going to be good?" is the silent question. In cask beer it tends to tell you so much more than keg beers. It is a is a much more nuanced product. Having done the visual inspection and the nose test, you are already forming an opinion, building up the anticipation, getting ready for that first mouthful that will confirm whether it is as good as it looks. Or, unfortunately as bad. Sometimes it isn't that good. Too often you can tell by that visual and olfactory inspection that things just aren't going to be as good as you'd like. Here's where the making love analogy starts. I think you'll be getting my drift by now.

Any cask ale drinker knows one simple fact of life. You aren't always going to get a good pint. Unlike the lager or smooth drinker, who knows what to expect and is delivered with it every time, the cask drinker is an uncertain soul. He is hopeful that the heights that only cask can reach will be in that pint. He knows one thing though. He will sometimes - quite often actually - get a duff pint. It is the the elephant in the public bar. Like death and taxes, the dodgy pint is always with us. Too often cask beer isn't served as it should be. It is ordinary or it is bad. It is middling or damned by that phrase, " It was OK". That usually means it was poor, but you could just about choke it down without real enjoyment and for this writer, not to enjoy beer defeats its purpose. Making love analogy again!

There is a way to mitigate this of course. You drink in pubs you trust. You drink beer from breweries you trust. (There is a long list of breweries whose beer I wouldn't touch with a bargepole and they are almost all micros). You use the GBG. You check for Cask Marque signs. You ask ahead (of fellow customers) "What's the beer like today?" This doesn't help the casual drinker of course. He or she is as likely to be a loser in the lottery as a winner. I don't believe many will disagree that the possibility of bad beer is the biggest enemy of cask . It puts more people off than anything else. Nor should you expect redress at the bar. You will be told in all probability that "Everyone else is drinking it", "it is just new on today", "that's the way it's meant to taste" etc. etc. And this won't just happen in dodgy pubs either. It will happen with a straight face in pubs that are considered the best of breed and about beer from breweries that are worshipped here in the blogosphere and in the real world. In short, over your drinking career, you will be taken for a mug time after time. An inconvenient truth if ever there was one.

What's prompted this introspection? After all I'm a cask man through and through. The other day a trip to the edge of my CAMRA Branch area, gave me some poor beer. Poor beer in Good Beer Guide pubs is irritating enough, but poor beer in pubs that usually sell it in tip top condition, is both puzzling and annoying. But sadly this isn't atypical. When some in the trade call for cask beer to be sold at a premium price, my response is along the lines of "Bugger off, I already pay a premium in that at least one in five of the pints I buy, will be poor and quite a number of them won't be as good as the brewer intended."

Why drink cask beer then? Simply because when it is right, when you hit that cask in peak of condition, when you have the taste experience which has you mentally cancelling the next few hours as the first pint slides down, it is the best beer experience you are likely to get. So when that perfect pint caresses your lips and sets your senses all aglow, do savour it, but then get stuck right in, get it down and get yourself back up to the bar, because then you really do have the beautiful woman in your arms and a night (or day) of true passion ahead of you. No unsatisfying bonk against the wall with the pub slapper round the back of the pub for you. You have the real thing. She is yours for the night and she may not come along again any time soon. Fill your boots!

So there you have it. Flirtation can be fun, but ultimately true love gives you what you really need. And one more thing. The memory of good and bad will each remain in your mind for a long time. If you are a publican, please make these memories good.

* If you are gay or a female, feel free to substitute gender as required.

Why German Pubs Get It Right

When I visited Düsseldorf and Cologne, places I know very well in drinking terms, I was struck by how amazingly busy the pubs all were. Although my observations are from these two big cities, I have witnessed similar scenes throughout Germany. Germany was just entering recession and yet the pubs were going like a fair. I have been formulating some ideas to explain why they should be doing so well, in the kind of vague hope that suffering British pubs might adopt some of their ideas and start to thrive again. I have concluded though that while I reckon I know some of what makes German pubs tick, it isn't going to be repeated here.

Firstly it has to be said the pubs I am talking about here, mostly are the independently owned Alt and Koelsch houses and these are different in some ways to mainstream pubs, (though most pubs in Germany are independently owned) but perhaps serve to emphasise my point further. On a midweek night it was difficult to find a seat in any of them and when you factor in that really there is only one drink on sale in each - OK you can maybe get a wheat beer and various schnapps, but that's it- the popularity would have any pub operator here scratching their head in amazement. So why are they so busy?

I think there are a number of factors. The list is not exhaustive:

• the pubs serve all ages, but are predominantly populated by over 40's, an age group alienated from pubs in the UK by bad behaviour, market segmentation, loud music, open plan interiors and many other such "design" factors
  
• they may only sell one product but it is a quality one
• food is genuinely home cooked, not bought in frozen and is reasonably priced and plentiful in portion. No "chicken ding" here!
  
• service is warm and welcoming. Staff are smartly dressed and attentive
• though smoking was banned in most of the pubs, there was no nasty huddle outside, no gauntlet to run and no smoking shelters
• the atmosphere is friendly and non threatening
• the pubs are immaculately clean, cleverly divided to break up open space and the custom of shared tables means you have to learn to get on with other people
• anti social behaviour is absolutely frowned upon
• in the case of the independent house, they are seen as synonymous with their town (and this is repeated throughout Germany)
• Germans retain a strong sense of the traditional in so many ways, that the unchanging nature of certain long cherished establishments, is seen very much as a positive
• German pubs are more often than not, family run
  

So why is this so? Is it a societal thing? Possibly. Germans are very protective of their own local environment. Are they less sophisticated? The fact that when anyone walks into an Alt or Koelsch house, irrespective of age or gender, a waiter automatically brings them a glass of beer on the assumption that is what they will drink might make you think so. It is an alien concept to most of us, but it works. Maybe this accepting conservatism (not shared by all of course) brings a comforting certainty in a sometimes uncomfortable world? And the beer, particularly in the two cities I mention, is good too which helps, though it has to be said similar scenes are played out all over Germany. (Even in the buzzing Schlenkerla in Bamberg you are expected to drink the very smoky Rauchbier. No alternative beer is usually sold.)

Perhaps it is simpler than that. The over riding factor is that German pubs still deliver a product that people want. They don't need quizzes, karaoke, live "entertainment" or two for one inducements to enjoy a night out in the pub. Drinking at home in Germany is inordinately cheap - even for quality products - but it doesn't prevent people going to the much more expensive pub. Due to somewhat enlightened alcohol taxation, German pubs have always had to counteract cheap beer at home and have done so by giving customers a comfortable, value for money, traditional environment that encourages customers to want to come back. It puts the pub and pub going firmly in the mainstream of German social life. They can and do visit to socialise, eat and drink and just to enjoy an atmosphere that is usually buzzing with friendly conversation and laughter. The Germans even have a word for it - Gemütlichkeit - which can best be described as "socially cosy." Doesn't that sound the sort of place you'd like to drink?

So, are the Germans just like us? Yes and no. That is why I conclude that what works in Germany does not necessarily work here, though adopting most of my bullet points would improve most of our pubs 100%. (Of course it has to be said that adopting these points would also be good for some German pubs no doubt) There are of course bad'uns in Germany too, but in mainstream pubs standards are much higher. Germans expect and demand high standards.

It is different here in the UK and attitudinal, market, social and ownership issues muddy the water. But perhaps pubs here are failing to meet even our low expectations? I'll try and give a view on that next.

There is rather a good page on Wikipedia about Gemütlichkeit. It is not just environmentally warm, but promotes the notion of belonging, social acceptance, cheerfulness, the absence of anything hectic and the opportunity to spend quality time.