Prententious? Moi?

The cartoon that illustrates this post was sent to me by one of my Yankee chums. My American friends seem to like it, but I'm not so sure.

Let's have a look. It is contemporary being next month's New Yorker magazine. We have obvious hipsters. It looks like it is in a trendy bar, not a restaurant and it has no caption. Does that mean it is self explanatory? Is there some article inside that puts it in context? I don't know. On the face of it, it is a guy having a taste of beer before he confirms his purchase in the same manner as he might with wine. Would that be a bad thing however unlikely? Is it a pop at perceived pretentiousness? Is it a go at hipsters with their pernickity ways? Is it a New York thing or is it more general? I really can't say.  

What's your take?

Whatever it is, I love the look on the waiter's face. 

What's Up with IndyManBeerCon?

There's a great post about IndyManBeerCon by Phil from Oh Good Ale.  It tells in a humorous way his reasons for not attending this much praised and sought after event.  While I don't agree with them all, I can see where he is coming from. It is a particularly different type of beer festival to most and to some not at all their cup of tea. For many others though, it is a "must", which in itself must surely make it worthwhile?  Give the people what they want and all that.

One of Phil's main gripes - and it would have been one of mine too had I paid - was the £13  entrance fee which got you a glass, a programme and nothing else.  As I was there as trade, I didn't pay and glad I am too that I didn't, but I do know that many felt it a bit steep and that many more either didn't, or didn't care that much.  You see, for many, IMBC has become a place to be seen at. That's worth a lot to them as social cachet apparently, but then again, in the non beer world, there are plenty such events and while we may shake our heads about Glyndebourne, Henley Regatta and Last Night of the Proms, if it gives pleasure to attendees and a good time is had, I for one say "Good Luck to Them".

It was the first time I'd been to Victoria Baths in the daylight and while always thoroughly convinced that this event would be a lot less attractive if held elsewhere, I moved the dial over even more. The venue is tremendous. Magnificent in fact and the perfect backdrop to the event itself.  The usual mix of keg and cask seemed to veer more to keg this year and that's what I mainly drank.  Prices varied from a pound a third to £4 a third, with most somewhere in between and exhibited the usual bizarre differences. A 3% and a 6.7% beer on the same bar at the same price is odd to say the least, but then again, I have no idea how things are priced up there and who decides.  And someone has to pay for the set up, brewers etc.

So how was it for me?  Well, as always I find this kind of do a place to meet people I already know or know of.  It is the social interaction that I enjoy, the putting of faces to names and the meeting up with fellow beery friends that I only see now and again.  It may well be heresy, but the beer is rather incidental to me and I don't therefore sit scribbling notes about this or that beer.  I'm there for the crack and all the effort in the world to put on this or that saison, sour, or (yawn) collaboration, is merely backdrop to that particular aim. The venue wasn't without its problems though. The room with the food was too smoky from much grilling and the room with the ceiling under renovation was pretty gloomy, but both were easily dealt with by nipping in, buying your beer and retreating elsewhere to drink it.  The beers were interesting enough to provide talking points and were all well presented.I didn't find much wrong with the beer once you'd swirled some of the excess CO2 out of it. I'm guessing too that Manchester has a lot less hipsters, so the crowd was pretty mixed, with plenty of CAMRA types there also and many of then serving as volunteers. We laughed at one customer who thought a photo of three CAMRA chairmen all drinking keg might have been newsworthy (it isn't) and generally had a good time with beery people.

IMBC is a great event. It is all done on a very human level and for most of its customers it's a pleasure. Can't see much wrong with that really.  Nothing suits everyone and you don't have to go.

 One or two beers disappointed, but what festival does that not happen at.  Mostly though, these are beers for sipping, not supping.  That changes the dynamic  of the event too and one well known brewer told me his cask products were suffering from that aspect.

The photo shows the sort of shenanigans that goes on there.  I think they may still have had their trousers on at the point I took the photo.

I guess too there would be many more hipsters and trendies there in the evenings.

Stick It Up Your Jumper

It seems that a fair chunk of London's new wave of brewing is concentrated in the east of the city. This is handy as when I am there, that's where I'm concentrated too. So, after a fairly civilised session at the London Drinker Beer Festival, it was time to up the octane trendiness wise. Unfortunately, there wasn't time to grow a neatly trimmed, but astonishingly bushy beard, but compromising by way of our tightest fitting clothes, we headed off up to and across Commercial Road, on to Whitechapel Road, then just before it becomes Mile End Road, left into Cambridge Heath Road, passing on the way, many interesting looking pubs of shall we say, a basic nature and a little portion of what appeared to be a market in Bangladesh after a typhoon. Nobody paid us the least bit of attention. It wasn't hard to find our destination thanks to Google and after a shimmy under a railway bridge, a sharp right and we were there.

Redchurch Brewery is in a a set of railway arches, so typical of London micro brewers.  The bar is upstairs and only open on a Thursday night, hence my determination to get there.  Showing what a small world the world of beer geekery is, I bumped into Mark of Beer, Birra. Bier on my way upstairs.  He was busy brewing on a small pilot kit with his home brewing pals.  Upstairs in the bar was Rich of Beercast, though that was less of a co-incidence as he'd told me earlier he'd be there. Seems he thought he'd be gone by then, but had been gripped by the demon drink (or was it the attractive lass he was talking to?) and was still giving it laldy.

The space is a modern, open one, with a small bar in a corner at one end, a few easy chairs, high tables and the like dotted about and a lot of thin beardy men.  Beer is keg and dispensed American style from taps in the wall, supplemented by bottles.  I decided to start with Shoreditch Blonde on draught, which I didn't like much, though according to the barman, is their biggest seller.  It was astonishingly highly carbonated, with a sherbet lemon nose, palate numbing cloves, though hoppy and bitter enough.  E was luckier with Bethnall Green Pale.  This had good pine resins, clean and bitter hoppiness throughout, but the body was made rather thin by excess carbonation.  As we sipped, we looked round at the gathered throng (not a big throng, but perfectly formed) and noted the high hipster content, including one bearded gent who, rather like a none too subtle shoplifter, had a (very well behaved) baby tucked up his jumper.  He cooed to it from time to time, while his lass chatted to her mates.  That was nice.

Things looked up with Brick Lane Lager in bottle.  This was the business though. Loads of C hops, a decent body and that elusive drinkability, was just what was required.  I finished with an impeccably good porter on draft, which was smooth, liquoricey and contained more resinous C hops and a hefty swipe of alcohol and an equally good Hoxton Stout, which certainly hit the spot body and hop wise.  They were very good indeed and I recommend them highly. So all in all,  I reckon these guys are on the right tracks.  It was well worth a visit, so why not make the journey?  Beers were (I think) £3 a bottle and around £2.50 a half.

The bus was our preferred journey home, straight to Aldgate, but of course after that sipping I fancied something to actually drink, so we called into our favourite local.  The barman called us both by our names despite not seeing us for several months, there was a sing song to Delilah (and many subsequent songs) on the go with the jukebox in full swing.  There was much merriment and a lock in. 

You probably don't get that kind of malarkey in Hipsterville, but room for both I'll happily say.  

More on the smallness of the geeky world in a subsequent post.