Sometimes you pass a
pub that looks like it might be quite good, an interesting place, but
for one reason or another you don't go any further than a quick
glance through the window. I did just that except I happened to be a
passenger in a passing car. I could see two sets of craft beer taps
through one of the slightly exaggerated, 20ft windows. We drove by
and the pub was out of view, a depressing memory of what could have
been. I'd missed out on an opportunity to try somewhere new and have
some decent beer in the process.
Thank goodness for
traffic, the car was stuck in a mini jam on Baron St in Islington,
London. We were quite literally spitting distance from the pub. My
mate was on his way to a record shop in Islington to pick up a record
he'd ordered. Not to tempt fate, I jumped out of the car but didn't
do any kind of fancy special forces roll or anything as the car was
stationary, then I went inside the pub. The Three Johns, right by
Chapel Market on the same road as the much loved Craft Beer Co N1.
The ceiling was so high
you'd have needed a cherry picker to change a light bulb. Thankfully
the lamps were wall mounted not on the elaborate 2ftx2ft metallic
tiles, so that wouldn't be a problem. Along with the bright shiny,
bronze looking tiles there were also a couple of riveted iron girders
spanning the width of the pub and another huge girder going from wall
to wall.
I feel like I must have
been passed the place several times before but with no memory of it.
Seeing it today was like I'd been living in a blacked out cellar with
only a candle for illumination and then breaking out into the open
and seeing the sun for the first time, it was like a brand new sight
for me.
It's a pub decorated
with bare brick walls and random modified old fashioned paintings, it
is easily airy enough to swing a fully grown lion, or several cats
head to tail. A bench seat along the entire length of one wall that
must have come straight from one of London's many communal baths and
classroom chairs that could have been picked up from any of the
numerous closed schools in the surrounding area.
The front door was
heavier and harder to open than I thought and nearly caused all
manner of embarrassment, but didn't. I narrowly escaped a red face.
I was faced with
another challenge at the bar, so many beers to choose from. Most of
which I'd never tried before. My original budget of three half pints
might have to change, I'm already on my second and there are a couple
more I want to try before I leave but I'll see about that later.
My first was an
Everyday IPA from the Founder Brewing Co out of Grand Rapids,
Michigan, USA. At 4.7% it is of a low enough strength to drink
everyday but there must be some other reason for that name. It is a
light and mellow IPA with citrussy hop notes and it goes down easier
than a Spanish footballer. It was good enough to want another but
with such a selection it would have been rude and thoughtless of me
to stick to the same beer. I wanted to drink them all.
At the bar were a few
chaps, I'd say ranging from late thirties to mid fifties. I was
watching them and observing what they were up to. Occasionally
looking up from all this writing to be a nosy little bastard. Helping
me find some creativity and stir my imagination for writing
inspiration was The Kernel IPA, from Bermondsey, South East London.
With more hoppy goodness and at 7.2% it was a bigger hitter than the
Everyday IPA but again, it was so salivatingly delicious it left me
longing for more. As I sat and quietly observed the guys at the bar
in an almost meditative mental space, I thought about life and the
life of pubs. If it were two, three, four maybe five years ago, what
would they be drinking, as they were going through their craft beers
trying many of the endless selection. I could picture them as if it
were right in front of me, standing at the bar engaging in the same
kind of banter but instead of drinking fine ales, they'd be knocking
back pints of Fosters or Carlsberg, maybe Guinness or John Smiths or
perhaps even a pint of cask ale if they were up for a bit of
something more exciting. How times have changed. It might sound
terribly harsh but I don't miss the 'good old days', the way pubs
used to be that people go on about so frequently. Pubs with lots of
character, full of local idiots and serving sub-standard crap and
prices not so dissimilar to what we pay for beer now. In those days,
the selection was limited to what a majority of pub co's and brewery
tied houses were allowing their tenants or managed houses to serve.
With so much choice nowadays, we are almost making excuses and going
out of our minds trying to decide what beer to have out of what must
be now more than 70 small craft breweries in London and over 1000
across the whole country. I know in what time I'd rather be.
I thoroughly enjoy
drinking phenomenal beers, even if they are served in glasses that
would have once caused a man to receive abuse and possibly turn to
the 'other side' (homosexuality) or in some rarer cases maybe join
the 'other side' (death). Obviously both examples are greatly
exaggerated. I have nothing against drinking a half pint in a high
ball glass but there's something almost dignified and sophisticated
about drinking beer out of a stemmed tulip glass.
As the sun begins to
set, the glass walled pub gets darker but not an immediate kind of
dark. It is the darkness that is uncertain if it is going dark or
still wanting to be light. The romance of the whole grandiose place
quickly dissipates leaving an uncomfortable feeling in the air, so
strong I had to fight off the overwhelming urge to put my jacket on.
It's this in-between stage that makes everything seem so dull and
gloomy, rapidly turning smiles into frowns and excitement and joy
into nothingness. A least I have half a half of The Kernel IPA for
company helping me to see me through this difficult time. The Kernel
Brewery is probably the most highly regarded in the country at the
moment and after trying one of their beers it's blindingly obvious
why. Even if they are constantly varying the recipes, the underlying
beers are still to the same overall tastes just using different hop
varieties and so on.
Such an assortment of
so many outrageously good beers is a cause for this most recent craft
beer explosion. How can we ever go back to times of old? Forced to
drink bland, flavourless and unoriginal beers and being forced to be
content and happy with it all. Thankfully our lives have all been
changed and this is no longer the case.
My third and final half
is a smoked porter from Fourpure, also from Bermondsey. The
Bermondsey mile awaits... From a recent unpleasant and altogether
negative experience trying a smoked porter I was on the sceptical
side of this one. I puffed up my chest, I'm brave, I have to try
something new. The gamble paid off, it is a fabulous porter. Rich,
smooth, complex, creamy, smoky, chocolaty, as I sipped at it I
imagined Nigella Lawson's reacting to trying it and really getting
into it reaching a state of near orgasm on tasting the beer. A porter
to rival all porters and deserves to hold a crown up high so all can
see and use it as an example of greatness.
I remembered how and
why I should have recognised this place. Back when I used to go out
with my mates in London, most of whom lived in Stoke Newington. I'd
get the 73 bus from Kings Cross which drives past the front door of
the pub. Noticing that it says Est. 2014 on the business card I
realised that this wasn't here before, as I'd not done that journey
in over 4 years, it definitely didn't exist in this current,
exceptional form.
