I'm Hooked

I'd arranged to go on a date but due to a slight mix up, the plans had changed and the date was rescheduled for another time. I now had an evening off and out in London but with nothing to do and nobody to see I had to make some new plans.

I called around my mates, some of which I hadn't seen in a long time. Only one replied. Oh well, at least one of my mates is willing to meet up with me. With no idea of what we were doing I had a quick pint at the pub and was told by my mate Harry, to meet him at Camden Town tube.

A cousin of Harry's, Sam, had recently opened a restaurant. A fish and chip shop on Parkway in Camden, London. Along with a friend of his, they'd secured investment and opened up a restaurant in Brussels, Belgium, that was now doing very well along with this two month old venture in London. I'd actually first laid eyes on the place when I had a quick glance of the menu on my search for the elusive whitebait a couple of months back. I only had a very quick glance specifically looking for whitebait which was absent, so I had no real idea of what the menu actually consisted of. If you're interesed at all in how poorly my fishing for the little fish was then check out The search for whitebait.

I was hungry now and an excitement was started to build inside of me.

Walking up Parkway towards the restaurant, we happened to bump into Sam. Him and Harry caught up and he explained to us to order a drink but to wait for him to get back from the shops before we ordered any food. Being winter and the season of the sniffle, he was in need of some relief.

We went inside, took a seat at a big tall round table right by the front window. It was almost 9pm so we had missed the evening dinner time rush and with there being office Christmas parties and drunk wankers all over town, the place was relatively chilled. A waitress came over to tell us about the specials and this new Christmas themed cocktail that Sam had created, it had Guinness, whisky spices and some other ingredients. It was velvety smooth, rich and creamy, with the perfect amount of Christmas cheer and sweetness to allow it to go down an absolute treat. It was delicious but I think would have been better after we'd eaten as a kind of liquid desert. We should have opted for a beer to start with but like a sirens call, we couldn't resist the persuasiveness of the waitress and caved in.

Sam returned and told us of his plan. It sounds like it was going to be something rather dastardly but it was not. He told us to order a fish each, he'd then give us a 'surprise' fish and a selection of sides and some of their fabulous home made condiments. Our hunger and excitement had boiled over at this point so I ordered us some beers as we waited for our food. Harry went for a Camden Hells, I went for something I'd not seen before, Brixton Breweries 'Electric IPA'. It was boozy, hoppy, everything an IPA should be and annoyingly hard to drink slowly.

About the menu. The options for the batter was either panko breadcrumb or a light tempura. Both with a selection of rather novel non-classic flavours that one wouldn't normally associate with fish and chips but had obviously been proven to work very well.

I went for a lemon and basil tempura sea bream with a garlic truffle mayonnaise. It had so much flavour, and a deliciously fresh zingy batter to die for. The chips were chunky skin on wedges with a very crisp outer and an almost mash like interior, divine. Harry had the Cajun panko haddock (I think it was haddock may have been another), also very tasty. Our 'surprise' fish was Jamaican jerk haddock (I think). A slightly spicy jerk crumb with a hot sauce, great unexpected combination that worked very well. The odd choices of batter really did work, they all sounded amazing and the ones we had were. I concluded that I'd made the correct decision as I couldn't get enough of the bream. I will have it again, possibly even this Saturday. The sides were great too, minted peas, a sea spaghetti and samphire citron salad and a celeriac remoulade. A tasty selection of home made sauces and a small but expertly chosen selection of booze.

Good value, brilliant food, exceptionally friendly staff and an overall fantastically filling and delightful meal. An experience I'd recommend for all. Especially if you are partial to a good bit of fish and chips.

The fish is all sustainably sourced and delivered daily, straight from the boats in Cornwall.

the restaurants website

hookrestaurants

Camden Town Brewery

camdentownbrewery

Brixton Brewery

brixtonbrewery

Don't Judge a Book by it's Cover

Recently I've been drinking in my local Wetherspoon, The Kings Tun in Kingston. Other pubs are trying but the sheer selection of alcohol surpasses all other competition, plus it's cheap.

They have this beer called 'Devils Backbone', it is an American Pale Ale and one that I tried and enjoyed near the beginning of my pale ale phase. It's typical American pale ale, full of hoppy goodness and a moderately high level of booze. At less than £4 a pint, it's damned near impossible to go wrong.

I think it's fair to shed some light on how great Wetherspoon's really are.

It is so easy to criticise any Wetherspoon pub. I know they sometimes lack any form of atmosphere or character. Are usually full of people that spend their days and jobseekers benefits on beer rather than being productive in the slightest. They sometimes feel oppressive when you first walk in because of this but it is quite often something that in quickly overcome when you get to the bar. It is the same feeling you get when you are anywhere you are not regular or accustomed to.

It isn't until you break them down to every individual component that they all start to make sense, and you begin to see how great a pub they truly are, and close to the mark they are in what I would consider to be a perfect pub.

I wrote a piece about 'What's wrong with Wetherspoon's' a few years ago and recently published it on this blog. It was a brief explanation of why I would consider Wetherspoon's to be fantastic pubs and help people appreciate them for what they are.

More often than not, they are situated in prime locations, possibly due to the magnitude and wealth of the company or possibly better judgement of how vital location is to any business, more than likely a mix of both. Most of the ones I've been to, bar a few, are in 'heritage' sites. By heritage I mean an old landmark or architecturally historic structure of some sort. A couple of examples can be 'The Kings Tun' in Kingston, my local one, which in its former glory was a big old theatre. It's quite hard to see that from the inside but the outside is still its unmolested original self. Another example is the 'Coronet' on the Holloway Rd in London, it was an old cinema and even still has the old projectors that would have blasted out bright moving pictures onto the huge screen and the balconies where the more elite viewers would have sat.

Both examples might not be ideal or what we would associate as a classic pub but they are simply operating on function over form, substance over style. Who needs all these nooks and crannys when you can quite easily fill the space with tables and chairs or allowing more space for people to stand. The traditional booths and cubby holes and stained glass windows are replaced with shabby carpet, oil paintings usually depicting the history of the area on the walls and an array of modern booths taking up every spare inch of space along the side walls. Once upon a time they were dimly lit so as not to see how poorly decorated they were, now after a lick of paint and new fixtures and fittings they are all as bright as anything and not particularly cheery. That was not meant as a dig at the décor, more a simple observation and expression of my tastes and preference.

Obviously these are not the real or major selling points of any Wetherspoon pub or what makes a pub great in any way, simply observations of the overall venue.

As you might have guessed that I personally rank the general aesthetic of a pub quick high on a check-list of my idea of the perfect pub. The aesthetic or architectural beauty of the exterior or interior is crucial in helping create a pleasant and comfortable atmosphere for drinking. There are the odd cases where the venue doesn't necessarily have any external influence on the customers and the décor doesn't do anything to create or change the feeling of the place, but it certainly helps.

I could go on and explain almost every minute detail down to the hinges on the window frames or the latches on the toilet doors but I wont as it's boring. All those details add something to the bigger picture of the pub but are often so subtle they usually go unnoticed, until I point them out that is.

To me, bar far the most important aspect of a pub is its selection of booze, ranging from beers and wines to ciders, liqueurs and spirits. More importantly, how well the alcohol is kept. It's all well and good having an assortment of over 20 guest ales say, but if the lines are infrequently cleaned and the barrels aren't cellared correctly then it kind of eliminates the point.

In the case of most Wetherspoon's pubs, both are true. They have an extensive selection of alcohol, too large to list and are quite often on the forefront of any major revolution in alcoholic beverage. Of recent years, Sailor Jerry's spiced rum and the now massive gin craze possibly started by clever marketing by Hendricks Gin and Wetherspoon's in pushing their product.

If it's beer you're after and don't know of any decent 'craft beer' pubs, then any Wetherspoon establishment would be a safe bet. The alcohol is cheap (or should I say competitively priced), the selection is phenomenal and everything is kept well. The food is good, if not a little greasy but then I do tend to go for the fried things. If you're alone, it's the perfect place to relax in undisturbed comfort and to take full advantage of the now rare music-free pub. If you're with company it can be a perfect place to catch up and create any atmosphere that suits your or anybody else's mood.

On a side note. You have to admire the founder, Tim Martin for this beautiful monster he has created, Frankenstein's beast to the pub world, an amalgamation of every great idea of what pubs are and should be and putting it all together. This empire that helps promote and make available to all the wonders that are British beers and also doing generally fantastic things for the whole world of booze from international beer festivals, the introduction of imported spirits and anything helping make the world of booze a better place to be or be part of.

Plus what's not to like about somebody who is willing to take on a brewery as mighty as Heineken over a dispute, temporarily freezing all sales and orders until a resolution is found. Keep an eye out for further developments on this matter.

Link to the Wetherspoon website

jdwetherspoon

A link to the Devils Backbone website where you can find out more about their beers.

dbbrewingcompany

The Gradual Development of a Fantastic Pub

I've been drinking in a pub called 'The Druids Head', in the ancient market place in Kingston, for several years on and off. My early memories of the place are fairly distant and vague but I have noticed the clear progression over the last couple of years. Be it down to the management or a shift in focus on Greene King's part. When I say 'shift in focus' it isn't a dramatic change at all, I'm simply referring to something altogether subtle that I'm sure not many people would have even noticed, as much as me at least. A similar thing has been happening to Wetherspoon pubs, the assortment of beers, cask, keg and bottle or can, both domestic and international has grown so rapidly that you wouldn't be wrong in saying exponentially.

The change seemed to slowly come about with the introduction of more and more guest ales. Then the pace quickened with the addition of a few fancy 'continental' lagers and other beers on draught. The bottled beer assortment steadily increasing almost unnoticed in the background. It wasn't until the instillation of a 'Blue Moon' pump that I stopped and started paying attention. It is a beer I knew from travelling around the USA but had never seen it on draught here before, it isn't one that I enjoy I have to say. For some reason I can't get past an overwhelming celery taste that I find incredibly off putting.

In the couple of years following the introduction of Blue Moon and the more recent 'Craft Beer' explosion, the assortment has noticeably changed. Definitely for the better, I have to say. Greene King have in started brewing their own American style pale ale called 'Yardbird' which is actually a very tasty drop if I say so myself, one that I drink on a semi regular basis. They recently added Brew Dog's 'Punk IPA' and another beer that must have been so recent as in the last couple of months. Goose Island IPA. At £4.90 a pint it is not cheap but a beer that rare and delicious is surely worth the hefty price tag.

A pub championing both British and International beers is always a winner in my opinion.

A link to the Greene King website

greeneking

A link to the pubs own site

druids-head-pub

Untying a 200 Year Old Knot

So, they finally changed the law that had been in existence since the 17^th century. No longer do tenanted pubs have to buy their beers at extortionate prices, they now have all the freedom and possibilities that the open market has to offer.

What does this actually mean for more than 10,000 British pubs?

Was the world such a bad place being protected by big breweries and pub co's, having below market rent at a slight dent to the overall profit from wet sales?

Will the 'New World' be a much brighter and better place?

Some sceptics believe that this change will cause big breweries and pub co's to take a step back so to speak and release some of the responsibilities they used to hold. Meaning the tenants will almost be left to fend for themselves. They foresee an increase in the closure of pubs, as without the backing and financial support, smaller, possibly underachieving pubs will run into debt and be forced into closure or change hands.

From what I have read from various sources, pubs are closing all over the place but this false information that we are constantly being bombarded with and to a certain extent, made to believe, is totally untrue. Pubs are closing, but like the mythological beast, the 'Hydra', when one shuts another two or three spring up. I'm not disregarding the fact that pubs are indeed closing and at an alarming rate, but there are more pubs opening up all the time. With the current 'Craft Beer' craze that is sweeping the nation, the newer pubs are targeting a mixed demographic of all ages and cultural backgrounds with the same things in common, the want for a great pub with a relaxed atmosphere and an infinitesimal selection of fantastic booze!

With the new changes in the laws, 'Tied' pubs have all the buying rights of freehouses. Theoretically increasing competitive pricing and enlarging what may have once been a very limited selection to choose from. All that is required for a successful pub is enough capital, a good, solid business model and an ideal location and ability to suit the local demographic and also attract people from afar. It is probably easier said than done, but still, the point is that it is as easy as ever to open and run a pub. The only major stumbling blocks are money, patience and everything else that comes with running a pub.

What does the future hold for publicans?

Will pub co's and big breweries react, possibly buying back and converting tenanted pubs into managed houses. That is exactly what Young's or what they are now referred to as 'Ram Pub Co' have been doing for a while. I'm sure the other major players like Greene King, Marstons and Shepherds Neame are or will do the same thing.  

Something I May Never Know

Due to a very busy period at work, I haven't had many days off or the opportunity to have any decent and memorable beer experiences.

So, after several failed attempts to make it to the Tower of London to gaze in wonder at the ceramic poppy installation, I felt, with it being my day off and with a whole day free I needed to go through with it. I was meeting a friend at about 7.30pm in Clerkenwell, London, or thereabouts any way.

I had the afternoon to myself and was in a more curious and exploratory mood than usual so walked. I walked along the Southbank from Waterloo Station to the Tate Modern Gallery. I wanted to see the progress on the extension, it was very big.

From there I walked to London Bridge and crossed over to the North side of the Thames. The Tower of London was only a five minute walk from there.

When I arrived at about 4pm, it was less than half a busy as I'd imagined it would be. Having a vision with over more than 100,000 people all tightly crammed against a temporary fence along its walls but in reality there must have only been 10,000 at the most. Maybe this was due to the crap British autumn weather or the time of the day where one can't decide if it's dark enough to turn on outside lights but is too dark to really see anything in great detail.

The spectacle was a non event for me and didn't stir up any emotions that I was expecting it should. To me it seemed to turn the mote into what one might refer to as a river of blood, gushing out of one of the windows, into the mote then around the whole castle or fort or prison, whatever it is referred to as. The sheer number of poppies was however very impressive. I walked around the whole landmark and was off in the direction of the pub.

I had a few major obstacles to overcome first. The City of London and The Barbican Centre being a couple.

My interest in architecture, and how the London skyline is expanding towards the clouds and forever changing took me on a slight detour. I say slight detour, I ended up zig-zagging in and around the city. Past the 'Walkie Talkie', Lloyds and around the 'Gherkin', to Tower 42 which was once the 'Natwest Tower'. I noticed a few new buildings I'd never seen before or even heard about the construction of. I eventually made my way through the network of tunnels running right under the Barbican Centre, past Farringdon and into Clerkenwell.

I made it to the pub a little before 7pm which gave me plenty of time to relax and cool down after a two hour marathon walk around London.

The pub was the 'Exmouth Arms' on Exmouth Market, Clerkenwell. It was an old fashioned pub that clearly looked as though it had recently been bitten by the 'Craft Beer' bug. It is in no means a bad thing, on the contrary, I think that it is a great way for pubs to go. They retain the original character and clients, attract a newer younger audience and also keep the beer industry going strong.

It was quite busy but I managed to secure a table and some chairs. I had a book, a glass of water and a pint and was temporarily in paradise.

With it being a cold, wet and windy autumnal evening, I thought it necessary to go for a porter. They had none but I was served a most delightful stout. It was sublime, so rich, velvety smooth and full of all the burnt malt flavours you would expect from a decent stout. I didn't take note of the brewery and name and the only memorable piece of information I have is that the label had a skull on it. If anyone can shed some light in helping my find out what this stout was would be ever so helpful.

My friend arrived so I put my book down. For hours and hours we spoke, drank, spoke and drank some more and eventually ordered some gorgeous food. The calamari was amazing and the sweet potato wedges were so sweet but savoury and just so damned hard to not eat. After only that one pint, they were out of that stout. For the rest of the night I was on Camden Ink, a great draught stout similar to Guinness only better. I had noticed the time and unfortunately had to rush off. I would have loved to and possibly should have stayed for longer. The consistently disappointing South West Trains service meant that a simple 40 minute journey ended up taking me over an hour and a half.

A wonderful little pub, with an alluring upstairs cocktail bar which I must try one day...

exmoutharms

One of my favourite breweries of the moment.

camdentownbrewery

A New Experience in an Old Part of Town

It's been a while since I had a notable beer experience.

Way back in April I went to a gig to see this band called 'The Notwist', I enjoyed it so much that as soon as I got back home, I ordered tickets to their next gig which happened to be last Wednesday. I'd also arranged to have the whole day off work... sort of.

Having several pub related chores to get on with, I thought it best if I rose early to give myself time to sort everything out, get the pub ready and open up. That way I'd have the remainder of the day to myself to do with what I chose. Things were delayed slightly when a couple of guys came in for 'a chat'. It was all good though as I managed to make the 14.33 train and was on my way into town.

Being so busy at work the last few days I was exhausted and felt my body and mind would benefit from a caffeine hit so I went to the café around the corner from Frank's. I was meeting Frank as we were going to the gig together later on. We conversed over a cup of coffee, then stopped off at an off-licence on the way to his to pick up some essentials. Beer. We bought a few bottles of 'Estrella Galicia', a rather fine Spanish lager that I am quite fond of.

We drank the beers as we plotted our route to the venue. The gig was at a place called 'Oval Space', I think the area is probably Hackney or there abouts, around East London somewhere. Luckily it was quite a straightforward journey and didn't take nearly as long as we both thought it would or should have. The only slow bit was waiting for the 55 bus by Old Street Station.

The doors opened at 7.30 and it was only quarter past by this point so we had a while. The Notwist were headlining of course so wouldn't be on until later.

There was enough time to explore, find a pub and have a quick pint.

The only problem was finding a pub. We walked past a pub that was wallpapered with flat screen TVs and full of bald heads. Another pub or what used to be a pub now seemed to be a museum of curiosity with taxidermy animals and formaldehyde frogs. We carried on but were losing faith. Just as we were about to cut our losses and go back to the venue we stumbled upon this place. I think place describes it well. It wasn't a bar, it wasn't a café, it wasn't a shop or workspace, it was a place. Not 'The Place' though as that is a dance academy in Bloomsbury, London.

'Look Mum No Hands' was the place. It was a fusion of bike shop, bar, café, meeting spot and there was even some kind of fashion workshop upstairs or down the end of the hall or something.

All around us were people sitting in silence, silently tapping and typing on their various apple related touch screen devices. The place did however have a very large selection of bottled beer and a few draught ales or what is more commonly referred to these days as 'Craft Beers'.

We both had a pint of '5 Points Pale Ale'. I'd had their ported a couple of months ago and really enjoyed it. The pale ale was lovely, it went down so easily, it didn't kick up any fuss or have anything unpleasant about it. We were running out of time so drank up. I needed a wee so went to find the place's office style loo along a maze of corridors. It was a bizarre, but good find with cute knitted cycling jersey buntings resembling the various trophy colours of the Tour De France.

If I'm ever in the area again I will most certainly stop off for a beer, coffee or some of the delicious smelling and looking food they serve.

It seemed like we'd walked for ages trying to find this place but the journey back to the venue couldn't have been longer than 10/15 minutes door to door. There was no trouble getting in the venue and we managed it just in time to catch the last couple of numbers from the opening act. They seemed good duo, with catchy tunes and a funky yet dancey drum and bass sound. Not to be confused with the heavy and drug fuelled drum'n'bass.

The most important thing when we walked in though was acquiring more booze. It was good booze too. Estrella Galicia again, this time in large, pint sized cans. At £4.50 a pop it wasn't that expensive for a music venue and was a decent beer.

I could go on and on, but I'll summarise it by saying that it was a fantastic gig in a brilliant venue and an amazing live performance by one of my current favourite bands. I will make sure I see them at their next London show. Even though it was a swayey kind of gig rather than a jumpy up and down gig it was still thoroughly enjoyable, complete with a horde of IT workers.

I did find the middle act a bit boring though.

According to their website, Oval Space is in Bethnal Green

ovalspace

A great place to eat, drink and be merry!

lookmumnohands

A great little East London Brewery

fivepointsbrewing

A Couple of Months Too Late

I've probably mention this numerous times but... I applied for my first British passport mid May, 5 months ago to be exact, and it's only now that I have been able to arrange my interview, the final step of the application process. I won't go on about it, only that something good came out of it, if you can find an ounce (in this case about half a kilo) of good in it.

My interview was at Her Majesty's Passport Office, Victoria, London at 1.15pm. My plan was to get off at Vauxhall rail station, cross the Thames and walk about fifteen minutes north to Victoria. I took a couple of wrong turnings and a slight detour so fifteen minutes ended up taken about half an hour. I had time enough to grab a beer from the pub across the road from the passport office, The St George's Tavern. I went in and ordered a half pint, I immediately up sized to a pint of Meantimes London Pale Ale. Nearly every pub I've been to in the last couple of weeks seems to stock Meantime beers. At least with the pale ale I know that I'm guaranteed to get a decent beer.

I queued up to get into the passport office for my interview. I was naively surprised to see not many English speakers with me waiting to get through airport style security. I checked in with reception and sat waiting for my number to be called. I went to the loo just before my number was called so when I came out and noticed my number on screen I had to quickly rush to the corresponding desk. Sod's law. I was asked a few questions to confirm my identity, then a series of irrelevant questions that made me feel like I was rehearsing a scripted conversation. It was over in a little over ten minutes leaving me with the rest of the afternoon to kill.

It had only taken an outrageous 5 bloody months to get to this stage. I was assured I'd have my passport within the next 5 working days.

I had time to afford myself another beer and possibly even some food. I took a seat a quickly skimmed over the menu more to ease my gentle curiosity. I nearly fainted when I saw it. The elusive whitebait, right there, with a brief description. Given the option between a pint or half a pint, I greedily ordered the pint with a side of skin on chips.

The anticipation was similar to that of a child just before they are allowed to open up their presents on Christmas morning. My heart rate elevated, my palms were clammy and my right leg was involuntarily shaking, the way people tend to associate it with sexual frustration. I was hysterical with excitement.

It was all brought out to me a lot quicker than I was expecting, so quick that I received a fright when the waiter placed the plates on the table in front of me.

It wasn't served in one of the stupid, showy miniature frying baskets lined with parchment like I had so envisioned. The little deep fried fish were unattractively plonked in the kind of shallow bowl I would normally eat my pasta out of. Presentation aside, they were gorgeous, with a rich seasoned crumb with a wedge of lemon and a pot of what looked and tasted like tartar sauce. They were crunchy on the outside and meaty on the inside. They quickly vanished, one at a time. Head, tail and all. I was satisfied, happy, no, elated.

A great place to indulge in fishy goodness and pass the time if waiting for the British Government to pull their finger out

thestgeorgestavern

Rail Replacement Bus

Like Spiderman, I had a sixth sense telling me that I needed to get to the pub early, it was going to be a busy one. I'd aim to get there for about 4pm to give a 'helping hand'.

I left my uncles in good time, I had to meet my parents and grandma at an Italian restaurant in Kingston for 1.30pm booking. The day already had a hectic schedule, in stark contrast to the 'nothing' day before.

Of course, being a Sunday the trains were on varying timetables if running at all. It seems that the Kingston line is always having engineering works, how is it that the line constantly needs work?

I had to get a rail replacement bus from Clapham Junction to wherever I decided to get to. The Kingston bus was about fifteen minutes away and was calling at every rail station on the route, that would probably mean a lengthy journey. There was a bus destined for Surbiton about to depart. It was a direct service with no stops on the way. I hopped on as Surbiton was not a far walk from where I needed to be as the restaurant is on the Surbiton side of Kingston anyway.

On the bus I thought I'd look up the location of a pub that everybody kept telling me about. 'The Antelope' on Maple road. They had recently opened and had their own micro brewery on site with a few of their own brews on tap. As soon as I got off the bus I went to the pub, it was in the direction of where I needed to go so wouldn't have taken any time out apart from ordering and drinking the beer. I took it as the perfect opportunity to see what the place had to offer. I knew whatever it was would have been fantastic as the managers are the same guys that made a huge success of a beer pub in Twickenham, London called 'The Sussex Arms'.

I arrived just before the lunch rush so seemingly had the place to myself. Well, in comparison to what I imagined the place would be like during a very busy Sunday roast service.

I only had enough time for a cheeky half so went for one of their own brews, the 'Big Smoke Brew Cos' Pale Ale. Like most, it is what it should be. A very good representation of a well balanced and impeccably enjoyable cask pale ale. I would have loved to stick around for more but had a twenty minute walk ahead and only fifteen minutes to make it. I most certainly will return to the pub and sample more of what they have to offer including their food.

I had another pizza like the night before, failed in my continued search for whitebait and was embarrassed by a sing song and some cake after my meal. However I was given a free shot of Limoncello, a superb digestif.

link to the pub

theantelope

link to the Italian if you fancy decent food if you're ever in Kingston

alfornokingston

The Search for Whitebait

From the moment I woke up, I had an overwhelming craving for whitebait. I'm not sure why, or where it came from, just that I hadn't had them for ages and had to have them. I really fancied chomping on the little , whole battered, deep fried fish no larger than my little finger. I never liked them much as a kid but over the years learned to love the crunchy morsels of goodness.

I'd had some work drinks the night before celebrating my birthday, I'd just turned 27. I was at work but as soon as I ran the bell at midnight and killed the music, the whole pub burst into song. It was embarrassing seeing both customers and staff singing me 'happy birthday' and 'for he's a jolly good fellow', I hate being the centre of attention, especially being sung to.

It ended up being a really heavy night, with drinking games an' all. Luckily I'd been given the whole day off so took advantage and lounged around in bed all morning. I had no plans, only that I was desperate to conquer my craving for whitebait.

I finally got up, showered and set off to meet my uncle at his. It was about 4pm by this point and I think I'd just started to sober up as I felt I was ready to prostrate. No matter how much water I drank, it didn't seem to quench my thirst. What I needed was a beer... and some whitebait.

Frank wanted to show my this street he'd recently rediscovered around the corner from his in Somerstown, London. It was about a five minute walk and as we'd decided to head in the direction of Camden, it was on the way. We walked past estate after estate, it seemed to me that all Somerstown had to offer was a series of housing estates old and new, council and private. There was a pub that I hadn't seen the likes of for years. It was like the pubs you see in costume dramas where the men are drunk on ales, swinging and spilling their beer over the floor, always a fight breaking out in one of its many nooks and crannies and ladies of the night prowling, eyeing up their next paid encounter or two. Only this place was set in the present day.

We ended up walking to Primrose Hill with no success finding any whitebait. I made sure to check every menu that we walked past, not only pubs but restaurants too. We'd search high and low for this elusive whitebait with no luck. I'd been told that somehow whitebait had 'gone out of fashion' but I dismissed that, I should have listened. It was time to call it a day I thought, a more important thing was locating a suitable venue for rehabilitating myself with more beer, the 'hair of the dog' as some call it.

We were lured into this rather upmarket cocktail bar on the fringe between Camden and Primrose hill. I spotted a sign saying '2 pizzas for £15', it caught my eye and I was pulled in. Obviously I'd misread it completely failing to notice the big lettering saying 'take away only'.

We wondered inside and instantly felt under dressed. The bar area had its own what I would call a concierge. It was a very posh place with elaborate chandeliers, wide stainless steel topped bar and bar staff wearing waistcoats and bow-ties. Frank ordered two pints of Meantime London Pale Ale which seems to be a popular choice for me these days. I excused myself whilst I received a barrage of phone calls from people wishing me happy birthday, as not to be rude and talk loudly on my phone at the bar. I shortly returned to Frank who I'd left on his own at the bar and continued to drink. The beer had an almost unpleasant metallicy taste to it, but with only the expected after taste it was fine and not worth complaining about. As we were nearing the end of our pints and the time reached about 8pm, the place suddenly swarmed with activity, It was time to take our leave.

Oh, in reading more about the bar I have just discovered that it is one of Gordon Ramsay's restaurants, The York and Albany Hotel, Parkway, London.

With a defeatist attitude, especially being unable to find my much desired whitebait, I recommended an Italian restaurant near Chalk Farm called Bar Centrale where we could at least get a fairly priced and decent pizza. You never know, they could have had whitebait on the menu.

I was hungry, very hungry and the pizza soon disappeared into my belly and I was full. So full in fact I was unable to move comfortably let alone drink another beer.

We walked slowly and steadily back towards Kings Cross, hopefully to aid in the digestion of the mammoth pizzas we had both just finished.

With 'Mabels Tavern' in our sights, we decided on one last pint before retiring to Frank's flat and eventually succumbing to fatigue and sleep. Annoying as I sat down and took a sip of my pint I noticed a menu to my side. Frank was outside with a cigarette so I glanced over the menu. They had whitebait and calamari as a started. I was far to full and tired to even consider it. It took an hour and a game of cards to finish a lovely autumnal ale by Shepherds Neame called 'Late Red'. I wasn't up for drinking at any faster rate if at all.

My search continues...

If only I had realised at the time that we'd stumbled upon greatness...

yorkandalbany

If you're in Camden and fancy a decent pizza without breaking the bank.

barcentrale

While it's still autumn, give this one a go!

late red

An Unimaginable Waste of Beer

The following story took place a few years ago, whilst I was on what was supposed to be my 'World Tour'.

Me and a bunch of other guys were chilling out drinking beers in the garden of the hostel we were staying in just off Lexington Avenue, NYC, USA. We were waiting for our mate, Paolo to finish. He was one of the receptionists at the hotel. I hate to admit this but while we were doing what is now known as 'preloading', the beer I was drinking was Coors. Shameful I know but the 24oz cans were just so cheap and the liquor store across the road sold them, and was open 24hrs. I was originally drinking the big 40oz bottles but after a fairly heated debate it was concluded that the smaller 24oz cans made more sense. In the 40oz bottles, by the time you got about halfway the beer had already turned lukewarm and flat.

As soon as Paolo finished, he joined us for drink which we finished quickly, then head off. He was taking us out somewhere on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. We got the number 3 subway line from the 125^th Street station to 86^th Street just to the west of Central Park. We walked south to roughly 76^th Street until Paolo found the bar we were all looking for.

The bar was a classic American style sports bar with huge flat screen on every wall, pool tables and cheap pitchers of beer. Unfortunately the only beers they had were Coors Light, Bud Light or Miller Light. We played some pool, drank some beer then left.

When we arrived at the next bar, I remembered a friend of mine offering me this great piece of advice. He said that if you tip the barman, say, $20 with your first drink, then he'll 'look after you' all night. Little did I know that 'looked after' meant an innumerable amount of free shots.

We spotted a vacant 'beer pong' table and quickly claimed it as our own, marking our territory with any unnecessary outer garments. We split into two teams with Paolo commentating and occasionally joining in to take a few turns for either team. I was with a German named Fabain, our opponents were two Lads from the North of England, Dan and Joseph. I think my downfall for the evening was the fact that I was drinking 'Goose Island' IPA, from Chicago, USA. I was using it to fill up the little plastic cups for beer pong. It is an English Style IPA at 5.9% quite a strong and delicious one. That isn't even mentioning the shots which couldn't have helped my drunkenness.

Our team just would not be beaten, we were totally annihilating our opposition every game. We were all very drunk but continued to play and consume excessive amounts of booze.

I think it must have been after my second or third pitcher when in started to feel a little nauseous. My involuntary gag reflex was making it a real challenge to drink any more beer.

I felt myself nearing a point where I would be unable to retain any additional liquid. One of the guys landed a ball in my cup meaning I had to neck the entire contents of the said container.

I could feel it coming but proceeded none the less. I managed to drink it all in one but as quickly as I was able to swallow it, it came straight back, all over the floor. Right where I was standing next to the beer pong table. I'd never have made it to the loos in time.

I guiltily asked the barman for a mop and bucket to clean up my mess but this was not received too well and instead of a mop a security guard appeared. This resulted in all of us being thrown out and subsequently being barred from all the bars along that strip on the Upper West Side.

I think I learned my lesson that night.

links that may be of interest:

Goose Island Brewery site

gooseisland

A Wiki How illustrated guide on how to play Beer Pong

Play-Beer-Pong

And now for something a little bit different

It's always a great feeling waking up and knowing that you don't have to be at work or have any kind of agenda for the day. This was the second of my two days off and I had nothing to do.

I'd slept on the floor hoping it would help straighten out my back but it didn't. It still ached. I must book myself an appointment to see a chiropractor or something.

I took it easy, listening to a bit of music and waiting for my uncle to finish work or be able to go out for lunch.

We ate a pizza each a cute little Italian restaurant in Holborn, London. For some bizarre reason it had been decorated in such a way that nothing about it made any sense. There was a porch facing inwards complete with a tiled roof. There were some not particularly tasteful paintings of nude women on the walls. The remaining walls were covered in a mish mash of psychedelic geometric patterns. The actual wallpaper was a bit funky, black and white lines in an almost illusionary shape. The pizza was highly commendable though.

By the time we'd eaten, it was already late afternoon encroaching on early evening.

As we were only around the corner we decided to go to browse the new Ming exhibition at the British Museum. I think a conversation about it had come up in passing the night before. With Frank being a member we both got in for free without the need to queue. It was one of the best exhibitions I've seen in recent times with some beautiful scenic paintings on silks and lovely ceramics. One of the best pieces is a completely embroidered silk depicting some images of religious figures. If you're a member the you must go, if not then I'd seriously consider it.

We'd had our cultural experience for the day, it was time for something quintessentially British. By that I mean going for a beer of course. Something a little bit different this time. Noticing that the Craft Beer Co had other pubs around London with one in Clerkenwell, we decided to check that out. It roughly equidistant from Frank's flat as we had to go back there because he'd forgotten all his smoking related bits and fancied a cigarette. I'd have been happy to sit by the disused fire place and try my best to block out the cheese smell but thought a change and new experience would be good.

It was dark, a couple of hours into rush hour so I thought that the pubs shouldn't be too busy as most people would probably be on their way home. Or at least I thought a majority of the 'after work' drinkers would be finishing up.

I was wrong, it was packed to the walls and with a very different crowd to the pub in Islington. This place was full of suits I'd imagined due to its closer proximity to the city. It was okay though, as we walked through the door, a path appeared to open up for us clearing a way right to the bar. Everyone was cheery and polite and there was an overall happy aura in the air. I bought myself another pint of Chiron and Frank went for an Export Porter even thought the barman said he was pouring a Smoked Porter, both very tasty drops.

Frank went out for a cigarette and I eyed up a table. I stood by it then ended up sitting down as nobody claimed it.

It was a far more traditional looking pub than the one in Islington. It has a big main room with high tables and stools around the edges. A bar about ¾ the length of the back wall with almost every inch taken up by beer taps and pumps. My favourite feature was the ceiling. It has the old fashioned frame pattern but instead of just being painted all the in-between bits were mirrored so it turned the whole thing into a kind of giant mirror. There was the perfect balance between traditional London boozer and the more modern and trendy wine bar styles.

I'm finding it hard, actually nearly impossible find fault in the Craft Beer Co pubs. Even though I've only been to 2... so far.

Well done chaps!

thecraftbeerco

If you are interested in checking out the Ming exhibit at the British Museum this might help;

ming

The Cheesy Floor

So it happened again. We ended up back at the Craft Beer Co pub by Chapel Market in Islington, London.

After a disappointing visit to the Bree Louise in Euston, then followed by one of my most expensive pints to date but with a good meal in St Pancras, I thought knowing where we were going things would only get better. I say that it was one of my most expensive pints. If I remember rightly, my most expensive was a whopping £8. It was one of those supa-dupa fancy Belgian beers you only ever see in swanky bars or on the continent. It was called 'Delerium Tremens', the beer with the pink elephant on its label.

As soon as we walked into the pub I was filled with immense satisfaction. It almost felt the we were finally safe at home. The pub was dimly lit, warm and our usual armchairs by the fireplace under the watchful gaze of Churchill were free and waiting for us. The fireplace was now occupied by a big fat candle that wouldn't look out of place on an altar.

There was something slightly off putting about the pub. It suddenly became apparent that the pub (especially sitting in a low chair) smelt quite strongly of 'cheesy feet'. It was the same kind of smell you get in church halls or in dance studios. My theory is that is has something to do with the varnish used on the overly polished floors. Your sense of smell eventually conforms the odour. It isn't until you return from the fresh perfume scented toilets that the cheese smell is reawakened. I am going on about the smell and probably over exaggerating it and it probably wasn't even that noticeable.

I might repeat myself here.

Once you get passed the smell it really is a truly fantastic pub with insightful staff and an extensive and varied selection of exceptional beers. I went for another beer from the Thornbrige Brewery, this time one called 'Chiron'. An American style Pale Ale with all the typical flavours you would expect. At 5% it had the potential to sink a few without feeling any unwanted side effects like drunkenness.

In regards to the cheesy floor, I have never understood what was wrong with the old fashioned hardwood floors. Do you really need to be able to see your own reflection in the floor, I'm sure not even Narcissus would have been so vein as to look at himself in the ultra shiny verging on mirrored floor.

It really is a must to check out these pubs, they're bloody brilliant

thecraftbeerco

Also these guys make some tasty beers

thornbridgebrewery

An Incredibly Noisy Burger

After a very disappointing visit to the Bree Louise in Euston, we decided we'd head towards Islington or that direction at least. Maybe stopping off somewhere along the way at a roughly halfway point, after all, Islington is up the hill from Kings Cross.

Approaching St Pancras I decided that we should 'pop in' to The Betjeman Arms. I didn't actually know that was it's name, simply that it is nestled in the corner of the station. A sort 'Al Fresco' dining area separated from the platform by a glass wall, an actual outdoor area overlooking the entrance to Kings Cross Station and the Euston road and then a couple of dining and boozing areas indoors. I would class it as a swanky modern pub/restaurant encased in the classic architecture and interior you would expect to see in such a grand and recently renovated London landmark that is the old St Pancras Station and Hotel.

I didn't know how my uncle felt but I was so damn hungry by this point. Remembering that I hadn't had a pie and pint that I'd been thinking about for so long. After my disgusting kebab shop burger I'd unfortunately devoured the night before, I felt I needed to fulfil my urge for a bloody good burger and give it another shot.

First things first, I ordered a couple of pints. They had Camden Pale Ale on tap so I went for that, a guaranteed good pint. I took a tenner (£10 note) out of my wallet thinking that should be a sufficient amount to cover the cost of 2 pints. How wrong I was. The 2 pints came to £10.50. I hear people complaining on a regular basis about over £4 a pint, I have recently spent as much as £4.84 on a pint but £10.50 for two. You don't need to be a mathematician to work out that that is an insane amount. What has the World/London come to?

Given the pubs location, their demographic and just how posh the whole place was. I conceded. I bit my lip and got on with more pressing matters, by taking a sip.

I got my wish, albeit second best and ordered a burger. Frank went for sweet potato falafels and a side of chips. It took over half an hour to come out. Actually thinking about it, if I hadn't made it known that we were waiting we may have never received our food. When it finally arrived at our table it was mountainous. The burger held together by a large wooden handled steak knife, served on a small wooden chopping board with tiny little jars filled with various sauces, the kind of single use ones you get jam and marmalade in at fancy hotels. It looked delectable, as you would expect or hope for £11.95. I heard the falafels were good but hands down, the star of the show were Frank's hand cut big fat old chips. I never had any but from what he said and the noises he made when eating them I figured it out. If it hadn't been for the little jam jar things it may not have been so enjoyable even though it is a right pain in the bottom trying to get the last little driblet of sauce out.

A prodigious selection of what looked like handmade condiments, good beer and the almost painfully noisy yet relaxing Eurostar trains concluded an overall great meal. We finished up and left for our final pub destination for the evening.

All things considered, the pub is definitely worth a visit

the-betjeman

A Slight Disappointment

After flicking through the most recent edition of the 'London Drinker' magazine if you can call it a magazine, it's a bi-monthly little booklet. I had seen this one page advert for a pub in Euston, London called 'The Bree Louise' it looked great, sounded fantastic with a selection of up to 20 real ales and ciders and best of all was famed for its pies. It had won Camra's North London pub of the year 2009/10, I thought how could I possibly go wrong.

I managed to secure 2 days off in a row so planned to go up on the Tuesday so if I did get a little too drunk I'd have the whole of Wednesday away from my pub to recover before having to work again. I got so excited about having some lovingly made meat pies with so many delightful ales to chose from, some say it was almost my idea of pub heaven.

The pub was only around the corner from my Uncle's flat so wouldn't take long to walk there. He is fortunate enough to live in Kings Cross literally a block across the road from St Pancras station. Such a prime location within walking distance to an infinite list of amazing attractions.

From what I'd heard and read about the pub left me bouncy around in excitement, I could barely contain it. An unknowing observer would have thought that there was something seriously wrong with me. After reading about it in the magazine I checked out the website and ended up thinking about it for most of the previous day, a pie and a pint in a warming and welcoming atmosphere with my uncle for company.

From outside the pub looked as though I'd imagined it, from seeing it in photographs anyway. But stepping through the doors was something completely different and disheartening. On first sight the only problem was that the place was packed, there wasn't even room to stand around anywhere. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but when all you want to do is chill out and eat a pie and drink beer then it kind of becomes a problem. My dream of the pies had quickly turned crusty and stale. Things only got worse when I looked around at the assortment of beer, they didn't have as many things on as I thought, I'd already tried most of the selection and nothing was that good. Any enjoyment of the place vanished before I even had a chance to take my first sip.

It almost brought me to tears. All I'd thought and dreamt about this place had been replaced by bright lights, way too many pump clips on the walls that it looked over the top and tacky and a section of the bar with disused and partially dismantled beer pumps. Nothing could console me on this crushing mental defeat, not even the delicious half pint of Dark Stars 'Hop Head'. Out of all the beers on it was one I knew would not disappoint. The others were either not up to scratch or not worse the risk.

Don't get me wrong, I will most certainly try the pub again. Just not in the near future.

A link to a saviour of a beer that almost made the whole thing worth it. Dark Star Breweries website.

beer

A Silent and Swift Booze Bringer

I'd always seen it alongside Sierra Nevada Pale Ale in shops and even in some 'swanky' bars but never thought of trying it, my brain telling me no due to my dislike of over the top American IPAs. It wasn't until the other day when I saw that it was on promotion in a local supermarket, Waitrose, and so decided to buy a couple of bottles to try. By it, I am referring to Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA, you could call it the bigger brother to the Pale Ale I suppose. The only major noticeable difference is the fact that one of the labels has a slightly lighter shade of green. Of course when you look closely to the label you can see that one is 7.2% and the other is a touch weaker at 5.6%, they have differing descriptions etc... In comparison to the IPA, the Pale Ale could be considered a weak beer, even though it is 5.6%.

One evening last week, I was about to sit at the table and eat my dinner before work until I developed a craving for a beer. I went to browse the contents of my fridge to check out the assortment of beer. I picked up the Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA and took it out. I opened it up carefully using a bottle opener like the cap suggests then got a glass out and began to pour it in. I slowly decanted it from the bottle into a glass but had chosen such a stupid glass that I had to stop short of the whole bottle, take a sip then continue. Breaking up the steady pouring process meant I had caused the sediment to mix with the remaining beer and contaminate my glass so to speak. The whole idea of me decanting into a glass was worthless as the sediment hadn't stayed in the bottle and ended up clouding up the beer in my glass.

I never looked into it and couldn't quite figure out why the beer was called 'Torpedo IPA'. That was until I actually drank some. It was a very strong IPA, full of hoppy bitterness, had a crisp citrus edge and enough alcohol to knock out a small hippo. It went down quite slowly as I ate my food and took the occasional sip. The beer just wasn't to my taste, it was a little too bitter for me, if you like very hoppy beers and can handle the amount of alcohol present then this is a beer you must try.

After only about twenty minutes into my shift I started feeling a little light headed, it was only a small bottle but I was beginning to feel its effects.

Suddenly like a light bulb flicking on I had a moment of realisation as if some higher being had whispered something very important into my ear. I'd figured out the mystery as to why it is called 'Torpedo IPA'. Like a stealthy submarine lurking in the depths of the ocean waiting to blast its enemies out of the water with one of its very own high explosive torpedoes. It is a torpedo of a beer shooting a surge of alcohol silently and rapidly through your bloodstream directly into your brain causing instantaneous drunkenness.

If you want to know the real reason why it's called 'Torpedo IPA' check out this link

torpedo-extra-ipa

An overdue nod to Sierra Nevada Pale Ale

I thought it was about time I wrote a little bit about the Sierra Nevada Brewing Co out of Chico, California, USA. I've been drinking their beers for a long while now. I think the Pale Ale was the first non British Pale Ale I ever tried, definitely the first American or American styled one.

Taking it back to the very beginning... I may have mentioned in older posts about the first I saw or even tried the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. They journey of discovery began when I started working at Waitrose. With my previous experience working in pubs and in beers, wines & spirits sections in shops I was immediately placed in the wine department. My managers planned on increasing my knowledge of beer and wine and further my learning eventually leading to me being trained as a wine specialist and becoming the branches 'full time' wine specialist. There was a wine specialist already but she only worked part time, I would fill in the gaps when she wasn't present.

I already had a keen interest in beer and what I would consider to be at the time vast knowledge of beer and it's production. I'd chosen to do brewing as a scientific study as part of my Biology course. This meant lots of research and brewery visits giving me quite extensive knowledge of the beer making process.

I am and have always been into experimenting with different things be it food, wine, beer or other kinds of substances so planned to eventually work my way through the entire beer assortment that my branch of Waitrose had. I'd tried most of the ales and a fair amount of the 'fancy continental lagers' before. It didn't take me long and I was soon through the lot and had made my mind up on which ones I loved, liked or barely tolerated, just enough to finish as I don't like wasting beer especially if I've paid for it myself.

There were a few that really stood out but one in particular left a permanent mark on me and probably has contributed in changing my opinion and tastes towards certain kinds of beers. It was Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. It was the first time I'd set eyes on such a beer, it felt curiously foreign more so than beers from Germany or the Czech Republic. When I popped off the lid, poured it slowly into my glass to avoid disturbing too much of the sediment then finally brought it to my mouth and tried it, I immediately fell in love with it. So much so that I started drinking it on a regular basis and used the fact that I could get a discount on beer to my advantage and would take home several bottles of it a week.

It wasn't until a few months after the opening of Kings Place in Kings Cross, London that I saw the beer on tap in the waterside bar. I went to a show and was a early so thought I'd take in my surroundings and have a pint overlooking the Regent's Canal. Of course I bought a pint of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. I can vaguely remember it costing over £4 which at the time was an almost inconceivable amount for a pint of beer.

I'd had it in the bottle many times before so knew what kind of beer it was, how it should taste, look and smell. It exceeded my expectations on all levels, apart from value for money of course. I tried to savour it, making the most of its wonderful intensity and complexity and its near perfect balance. I would say length but I didn't get a chance to appreciate its long remaining flavour as I quickly ordered another and could still taste it past half way in the show. I was at a documentary about various classical conductors and their interpretations of Beethoven's Symphony #9, one of if not the best piece of classical music of all time. In my opinion.

I would have quite easily had another pint after the show if it wasn't for the fact that I was beginning to look a bit like a narcoleptic.

link to the breweries website

sierranevada

DNA on Draught?!

It was another one of those rare Friday evenings off work, I had some laundry to do which made for a wonderfully fun Friday night. I started doing my laundry at my parent's house in Walton-on Thames, after a disagreement with the local launderette... a long story. I planned to ride my bike to my parent's place with the good intention of putting my wash load on as soon as I arrived so the cycle would finish and I could dry it in the tumble dryer before going to bed that night.

Unfortunately I got a little side tracked at the bar after work. I'd been bought some beers, a couple of bottles of DNA to be precise. So I decided I would have them as soon as I finished, make them swift then have a bite to eat and ride straight to Walton do my laundry and meet my mates for a beer at a local pub. I ended up having a meaning I was running late and had to rush. My idea of sorting my laundry out went straight out the window, I could always sleep in my old bed and do it in the morning as I wasn't due to start work until 7pm so had plenty of time.

I rode my bike as fast as I could carrying my 15kg rucksack full of dirty laundry. I arrived incredibly sweaty, so much so that my mum didn't even want to give me a hug when she said hello to me. I put my things down, said hello and goodbye and left for the pub.

I assumed they'd be in the Swan's huge beer garden chilling with a beer right by the Thames' riverside. I went through the pub from the street so I could buy a beer before going out to the beer garden. I glanced about and ordered a Doombar but quickly changed my mind luckily before the barman had a chance to start pouring my beer. I noticed that they had DNA on tap. I immediately ordered one of those instead. I was quite shocked when my beer was put in front of me and the barman asked for £4.84 for the pint. What a ridiculous price and how steep too. I thought. In reality I handed over the money without fuss.

Over £4.80 for a pint of ale is verging on the extortionate price charged in some places for the fancy continental lagers, prices so astronomically high that the days of buying a pint for under £2.50 will seem like a million years ago. I recently paid £4.70 for a pint of Fuller's ESB which I struggled with the idea of but £4.84, oh my goodness.

I cannot deny the fact though, it is a marvellous beer, one that has certainly become my drink of choice at my pub.

Another thing that annoyed me about the beer, other than how expensive it was, was the glass. It quickly got on my nerves mainly because of its design. It has the same design that's on the bottle, the bright garish almost Caribbean themed (probably not really but I think it looks that way) label, complete with the jagged little black bit along the bottom. It was a dark dull autumnal evening and in the fading light my mind was tricked by that bloody black bit. Not only did I try and take a sip and there was nothing as the glass was empty, I did it three times. Perhaps it was cunning or maybe more likely because I had only eaten half of a vegetarian lasagne and drunk a few beers and rode my bike so fast that all the alcohol had gone straight to my head.

Frank's 50th washed down with some Meantime Pale Ale

The stage was set for uncle Frank's 50^th birthday celebrations. He'd hired a pub called 'The Perseverance' on Lambs Conduit St, London. On the the outside it looks like an everyday Victorian boozer but was set beautifully amongst boutiques on a fancy little street that even has what I would class as a silly shop, the 'Peoples Supermarket'.

I met up with Frank early to see if he needed any help with anything, also just to be there to try and relieve him of his stresses as he can get and was very nervous about all the preparations involved in arranging his own party. He was so anxious he couldn't eat and didn't want much beer so he didn't peak too early. We had a few beers at his flat first as it was only around the corner from the pub and he wanted to tell me all about the trip to Amsterdam he'd just been on that I was supposed to be on if it hadn't been for the bloody passport office making mistakes and taking ages I would have got my passport in time and been able to go. I applied for it in May and still haven't received it, that's another story altogether and not about booze so I'll save it for elsewhere even though I could moan about it for hours.

So he showed me the photos of his trip and in particular this houseboat that I'd hired for the few days that we would or he was there. It even had a little mirror ball hanging from the ceiling. I was a little upset but happy that he'd enjoyed his time and had the chance to chill out, Amsterdam isn't going anywhere so I can always go another time. After he'd showed me all the pictures and stories of his quiet holiday we left for the pub.

It must have been about 5pm when we arrived, the place was quite full of drinkers and people getting some early dinner on their way back from the shops or on their way out, whatever, there were people eating and drinking which is always a good sign. As he wasn't drinking he had a vodka lime and soda or was it a G&T? I had a pint of beer which I thought was a little cloudy but tasted fine, maybe it was me not knowing it or perhaps it could have done with a little more time to settle. About half way through my pint I got a call from my mum, my mum and dad had come up for the evening and were staying in a nearby hotel. After we said hello I pointed them in the direction of a fantastic little Italian restaurant on the same street called 'Ciao Bella' I would have to say, in my opinion they have the best pizzas I have had outside of Italy. They also have many other scrumptious dishes and the best appetizers of Parmesan cubes and mixed olives. They left to get some food as they were hungry so Frank and I returned to our drinks. I was a little surprised when my parents turned up, I'd kind of forgotten that they were coming. Not too long after I received another phone call from my mum saying that she's eaten as much as she could and if I wanted to finish off her pizza, she'd only eaten half. Of course I bloody would, I went over to pick it up from her. I ate it a few metres along from the pub. As I ate I watched these guys in the Oliver Sweeney shop putting up the most old fashioned anti battering bars in the windows, it wasn't the old fashioned metal grate or even the metal shutters, it looked like these huge wooden beams that went across the window and were then secured in place by a metal rod and padlocked to each beam. How wonderful I thought.

I scoffed the whole lot in moment but that half pizza temporarily suppressed my hunger.

Back inside for another pint, this time I noticed they had Meantime's London Pale Ale on tap, I'd only tried it for the first time in bottle the night before, I liked it so gave it a go. As you would imagine, it was a rich chestnut brown colour, had the distinctive hoppy aroma of pale ales and tasted just as it should. It tasted great, perfectly suiting my newly developed palate, it is quite similar to the Camden Pale Ale and equally as enjoyable. After a couple of pints a few of my friends arrived which led to a few more pints which then led to several more pints all consumed in relatively quick succession.

I bounced around saying hello to people I recognised or know on a more personal level, conversing and drinking more of these beers in the process. Some food appeared on a back table. It was all veggie as Frank is a vegetarian and to play it safe opted for a completely vegetarian buffet or various quiches and other things that I was too drunk to remember apart from the fact that I enjoyed them and by the time I left they had all gone. I'd never realised the night before that in less than 24hours I would be drinking and getting completely pissed on Meantime Pale Ale.

The Perseverance is a great little pub with good food and a brilliant selection of beer made better by the fact that they don't serve Guinness. The bar maid was very friendly and knowledgeable. The landlady was present and you could quite easily talk to her for hours about beer, as a matter of fact she was in the process of writing her dissertation or thesis about beer, to be more specific I think I remember her saying it was about the 'branding of microbreweries'. How very interesting I thought to myself. I might even consider reading it if I ever get the chance, it is a subject that I too am very fascinated about. I hope she managed to finish it in time to a high enough standard, good luck to her.

It wasn't until I woke up the following morning that I realised just how drunk I must have been, thinking back on it I must have sunk at least 10 pints of the stuff plus the few other beers I'd had that afternoon.

click on any Perseverance to link you to the pubs site

link to the Meantime Brewery site

meantimebrewing

I'm going to call this one BEEEEEEERRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOZE

Over the last few months I have come to the realisation that I acquired the taste for American Pale Ales or any Pales ales within reason. It may have been slowly ignited when I tried a bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale several years ago or maybe when in Australia, looking for something other than lager I drank Coopers (green) Pale Ale regularly.

This recent discovery if you can call it that is maybe only shocking to myself or some close friends... but mainly just myself.

I have never until only the last couple of months tried, liked or even enjoyed the 'American style' Pale Ale or IPA or basically any American beer or styled beer that isn't pissy weak flavourless beers like some of their more famous mass produced lagers. Coors light and Bud light come to mind, among many others.

This is all about how I have come to like and in some particular cases love Pale Ales. I have liked them for a while but like I say it was only in the last couple of months that I could go as far to say that I have become almost infatuated with them. If I see a Pale Ale on tap I'm more than likely to give it a go.

My love of Porters and Stouts is still definitely around, it's just that they seem to be a bigger gamble and are also a lot less popular this time of the year. Of course there are ones available all year round but their popularity grows late autumn/winter time. For now Pale Ales are commonplace beers.

I think I may be developing a slight addiction to Pale Ales, I have, I'm sure of it.

How tastes change over time, 6 or 7 years ago I would never have considered drinking some of the beers I drink now, I would have at least sampled them but never to enjoy or even have a pint of. Once upon a time I would have even had a word with somebody drinking something pale and fruity and light, maybe slightly dry and hoppy but lacking any real character or body or depth of flavour that you can only get from Special bitters or Porters and Stouts.

How I have changed my tune. I bloody love Pale Ales including IPAs and several other varieties. They do have depth of flavour and body and sometimes have the length to equal or better some of the most flavourful and intense Porters. To a certain extent though as some are incredibly SHIT! I had one recently that I'd tried a couple of years ago and not liked at all, I still don't. To me, it tastes like sucking on a hop flavoured lollipop stick, very dry and wooden.

This can be said for any style of beer.

To be continued...

Odell, how you've failed to disappoint me!

After frequenting the late night/cocktail evening at the Fallow Deer Café for a while, you kind of get used to the flavours of certain things and if like me your curiosity stretches beyond the gentle sort, then you'll always be searching for some a little different with more varied experiences and tastes. After trying many of the cocktails, avoiding the classics that I've had so much of over the years, even had a stint making them on a regular basis when I worked at a cocktail bar in Sydney, Australia. The cocktails are great by the way, my mate certainly knows what he's doing.

This time I decided to go for the other Odell beer they had, the Odell IPA. At 7% it is like the slightly stronger more intense and refined bigger brother to the Odell 5 Barrels Pale Ale. Apparently the beers are selected by a guy who works at the Real Ale shop in Richmond, London.

Once again I have let my previous experiences influence my judgement of a beer before I have even tried it, this time yet again wrongly. Another American Pale Ale gets the tick from me. It's not like some of the 'Imperial' IPAs I've tried here, the States and even in Australia which are usually around 9% and have something way overpowering like the booze or hops or even a thick treacle maltiness that feels and tastes like a whisk(e)y reduction. It is certainly nothing like the watered down so called IPAs that often a lot of breweries will churn out with no real idea of what they are actually producing, Green King IPA springs to mind there.

I even like the label on this beer. There is a little Indian fellow riding on an elephant resembling an old Mid-Western Cowboy riding on a bull during a rodeo. Except this little guy is controlling a bigger stronger wild beast. A great little thing showing how this brewery is paying homage to the original roots of the IPA beer but with a unique twist that only an American could do. It's subtle touches like that that really get me going, bloody fantastic.

Odell, you have done it once again. I think I'll have another and another and maybe another.

Check out the Real Ale shops website

realale

Click on any Odell for a link to their IPA