No Craft Cheer in Malaga

It is an opinion that some won't agree with - controversial maybe - but I've usually found craft beer bars a bit samey.  All shiny and sharp surfaces like Gordon Ramsey's kitchen; industrial chique instead of comfy decor; a stainless steel wall of taps and the barstaff's backs for a view. The Americans, as always, have a lot to answer for, as have their unimaginative worldwide copycats. Why can't we have some more craft bars with individual character?  Nonetheless being a reluctant democrat in such things, I sometimes find myself in them, usually with gritted teeth and quite often wearing, if not a sulky expression, a boat that shows faintly concealed resentment.

Thus it was in Malaga a few short weeks ago. I and my companions, (E excluded), had dutifully jotted down the must visit places of the crafterati and round them we traipsed.  I think we went to around five. Six if you count the visually appealing Cruzcampo Brewpub,  La Fábrica - a magnificent and brilliantly designed space with decent snacky food and a very shiny brewery producing slightly boring but incredibly competent and faultless beers.  In each bar, the same odd tasting take offs of beer styles from abroad. A muddy pale ale, a wheat beer, an overhopped, unbalanced IPA, a badly made porter and some murky one off, masquerading as a saison or a NEIPA (interchangeable in their awfulness and who knows how they should taste anyway - the brewers clearly don't? It made you shake your head with wonder that any brewer worthy of the name would let the bloody stuff out to trade. And always, well very nearly, an amber beer that everyone tries and then pulls a face at, before wondering why brew this insipid style at all?  The only saving grace really was, here and there, an Imperial Stout, so alcoholic, dark and dense that brewing faults were disguised to the point of non detectability.

Was I just unlucky? Is it just Malaga? I don't think so. While undoubtedly more competently made beers were to be found in Barcelona with the same friends last year and without them in Berlin, earlier this one, the general samey picture didn't change.  And why anyway for goodness sake, would you want to replicate abroad the experience you can find in any craft beer pub in Manchester, Liverpool, London, New York and everywhere else? It's the modern equivalent of demanding sausage egg and chips or pie and beans, no matter where you are in the world.  You pay top dollar for the experience too. That at least is consistent the world over and is the one thing that can be relied on.

Having said all that, Malaga is a great city to go to. Just get to the real Spanish bars around the giant market or anywhere away from the very touristy centre and you can have a great time in traditional surroundings. El Cid by the market was small and not at all self concious. Our entry caused no wonder or resentment at all and as we perched in a corner, four little tapas were presented with a smile. Victoria beer and the house wines were damn good too.  In fact cheery little bars on every corner, even on main roads in the city centre, were a feature of the town and away from other visitors you certainly got a feel for the vibrancy of them and the way they are used by locals. Welcomes were always warm too, unlike the general indifference of the craft bars.

So what's the lesson? If you are a fussy old duffer like me, when abroad just visit local pubs, drink local beer and wine and mix with local people.  If you want to drink craft - carry on, but don't expect it to be much different from home as an experience.  

Interesting too to compare basic Spanish beers. Least liked were San Miguel, Mahou and Cruzcampo, though none were bad. Very much liked were Victoria and the lovely and gluten free Estrella Galicia. 

Funnily enough in the tourist centre some excellent house wines and great grub can be found at very reasonable prices. Gambas al pil pil? Yum yum.

Back to Cask

After an exciting fly past over our flat - thanks British Airways - above and beyond and all that - we landed safely at London City Airport. I like LCY and fly from there whenever I can and the added bonus of a low level approach on the Eastern runway is possibly the most thrilling flight you can have and still wear the same underpants afterwards. Is it really that low? Well seems so.

The other bonus is a quick DLR ride to Tower Gateway and then we are home. Spain is left behind but the memories remain. Cruzcampo is just about tasteless. San Miguel is dry and can be not bad, Alhambra is tasteless and Mahou is just a bit better - the best of a bad lot, but nowhere as good as Lees Original Lager which I have been known to sup with pleasure. You can see what I'm thinking can't you? I need a pint of cask conditioned beer. But I'm in London. I think of my nearest pubs. Am I going to go to the Brown Bear with its dodgy warm beer? No fear. What about the Princess Of Prussia? I like that as a pub, but seriously, do you want your first cask pint after 15 days to be overpriced Shepherd Neame? Certainly not. What about Goodman's Field? A lottery on choice and quality? The Draft House in Seething Lane? It'll be warm likely as not. So what then? It must be within walking distance and have the certainty of quality. I think and say to E "What about a walk to The Pelt Trader?" E she say "Yes".

I've written about the Pelt Trader here and as a bonus, it is now firmly established, thus guaranteeing turnover.  The cellar is in capable hands and as a bonus,  my favourite and toppest barmaid in London* works there, adding even more quality to the already excellent team.  So we are on. Outside are suits galore. Inside is a much more mixed bunch of drinkers. I am greeted warmly at the bar and spot Stringers Gold on sale. No need to taste - it'll be good. Clean, spicy, cool, well conditioned, the beer is as good as it can be without a sparkler and a handpump. It barely touches the side and is repeated. I try a taste of Arbor Motueka, the follow up pint of which confirms a long held view which I am foolish enough to ignore on many an occasion. That is, a small taste tells you little. The beer itself is a disappointing thin effort of 3.8% with a dose of New Zealand hops to overcome its poor base. It works on almost no level. Ah cask. You lift me up and dash me down. E had fared much better with Tiny Rebel Fubar at 4.4%. Hoppy, pale, a body like a Strictly professional and just as enjoyable. I switched to it and it was a fine finish as grub beckoned.

Next day, at the Euston Tap on the way home, I enjoyed two superb pints of Buxton Moor Top. When in London, though very much improved in recent years,  you still have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your Princess. That's a worrying fact, but you can minimise your chances by careful selection. Both the PT and the ET fall into that category. They are also two of the few places where, with a pint and a half of under 4% beer, you are likely to get change from a fiver.  

Quality and value. In London. Pinch me, but trust me!

* @kirstariffic of course.  Ex Holburn Whippet.  Another good bet and all linked.  Funny that.

Just Another Commodity

Beer is. In Spain, or at least the lovely part of it I was in. The little town of Orgiva is full of bars (and the great unwashed). We didn't try them all - the bars that is - preferring a couple in the centre and two on the long walk back up the hill to our rented place, some distance out of and above the town. (For the record, we didn't try the various great unwashed at all.) Beer in Andalucia is it seems, a cold pale tasteless fluid that means so little its brand name isn't even listed in most menus. You have to find out by a quick shufti at the bar on your way to the bogs, or take a punt that the name on the napkins or chairs is actually what is being served. I am pretty sure that over the piece we had, in no particular order, San Miguel, Cruzcampo, Alhambra, Mahou and Estrella. All much of a muchness, as was the own brand stuff from supermarket chain "Dia", which at about €6.50 for 24 x 25cl, was just as good as the rest really, made a good poolside sun quencher and had the straight to the point and perfectly logical name of "Lager".

What was interesting too, was that most of the bars seemed to be thriving inside, even though we sat outside, sun starved as we were. The recent smoking ban seems not to have dampened down enthusiasm much and all seemed lively most of the time. Another oddity was the prevalence of non alcoholic beer and its relative popularity. So while it is bloody freezing here, it is nice to be back and have to have a genuine choice of beer again, both in brand and in style.  Not that I drank that much beer, preferring often to have a cold glass of white wine, though I do confess to the odd "tubo".  I can't say I missed beer that much,  though perhaps tellingly, before going home, we headed straight to the Angel in Manchester, where the Hawkshead Windermere Pale didn't touch the sides.  Hops. Yes I missed hops.

Despite complaints about this and that, it is a useful reminder that we are a beer country here and that makes me both pleased and grateful.

Actually, Alhambra Especial, despite the maize, wasn't too bad, with better body than the rest.