An Engineering Feat

I can't say that I wasn't looking forward to my second day with Paul and the other guys at Anspach & Hobday.

Inspired by my brew day, I brewed a small batch of Porter. With limited resources I could only make a 5 litre batch but think it went well. It tasted right, had that strong malty, toasty smell associated with porters and stouts and an appropriate original gravity however I would have liked it a little higher so I could get a beer of around 6.5%. Fingers crossed it turns out well, I even hopped it using Fuggles that I'd been given by Paul on one of my brew days. A traditional hop variety used in lots of British ales including Porters.

When I walked through the doors minutes after 9.30 am, they already had a brew on. Paul and another helper, a good fellow named Jamie were in the process of adding the malts to the hot liquor.

My first task of the day was to stack a palette load of beer boxes on top of another palette of beer. Looking at the existing stack, I wondered how it would be possible to basically increase the entire stacks height by more than double. It was simple and easy to picture but would it hold, would it be stable. Could the whole load of more than 1000 bottles stack on top of another 1000 bottles suddenly come crashing down, possibly on some poor unsuspecting sod.

There are various games that resembled this, a 'tumbling tower' kind of game. Instead of small, rectangular shaped blocks of wood there were 24 bottle boxes full of delicious Pale Ale that I'd had the pleasure of helping to fill and cap the other day. Only with this game the goal was to stack the beer as high as possible without removing any of the lower ones, hoping that the whole stack doesn't come down on you as you do so.

I wasn't going to mention specifics but I think for the benefit of humanity it would be wise. A diagram would best help describe it but I'll try my hardest to illustrate it with words. Who knows, maybe one day a drawing might follow.

So...

The bottom layer, directly on the palette or using a sheet of card of plastic if you have it, arrange the boxes in this manner:

• 2 rows of 3 boxes length ways across the palette, that is the longest edge of the box.
• 1 row of 4 boxes width ways across the palette, leaving roughly a 2 inch gap between the middle two boxes.
• Repeat the process on the next level but swapping the sets over to the opposite side of the stack.
• Do this alternately until you have a stack 5 boxes high. You could possibly go higher but I would start to question the structural integrity of the boxes.

This way of stacking boxes on a palette best distributes the weight making for a most stable stack as possible.

Graham laid the foundations for this the other day when he tried to explain to me how to stack the pile in the first place, I only took this further and lifted it to the stars.

Like Gaudi, I stepped back to admire my masterpiece, an engineering marvel. Only I didn't get run mowed down by a tram or whatever.

After taking some time to appreciate what I'd done, we got on with brewing the beer. A Porter. Anspach & Hobday do an inspiring Porter, so much so that I already mention that I brewed my first the the other day. After my experience here. I was doing my bit in making a beer I drink and admire so much. I even bought my brother a bottle to take out to him in Australia.

I was amazed at the amount of hops used during the whole Porter brewing process. Albeit the varieties used are low in Alpha Acid (the chemical that creates the bittering in beer) and not too aromatic, especially when used early on in the boil. This gave me an idea to add more hops to mine, dry hop it as it were, maybe with something like Cascade, not too strong but enough to give a distinct hop aroma to such a malty beer.

Not bottling today, brewing and then moving lots of stuff. Completely rearranging the brewery for the Friday Bar Evening. I think it's open from 5-9pm and is a relatively new thing but something I think is great. Lucky bastards who live or work nearby.

We all pitched in to move stuff and set up benches. All the time with my double stack standing there, graceful and proud, firm and as solid as the foundation stones to St Peter's Basilica in Rome.

A couple of guys from the 'Bottle Shop' around the corner helped us out meaning the task was completely as efficiently and quickly as possible, when we were all done we sat down with some beer.

Everybody in the beer trades recent obsession with Brett (Brettanomyces) has got me interested, sampling some American beer packed full of the stuff but still young enough to retain some of its sweetness. Thanks Mr Bottle Shop man for that introduction and explanation about all things Brett.

The conversation at the table continued much like that until a few people left. They were replaced and I was briefly entertained by a bunch of drunk Scot's. One loved craft beer or all sorts, another loved pales and the other liked to drink piss weak and flavourless lager so I was very surprised and impressed when he ordered a Peated Gose. But he didn't finish it.

I said farewell and took my leave. I will return again one day, when I'm back from Australia.

anspachandhobday

A Hard Days Afternoon

I'd been in contact with Paul, one of the founders and the brewer at Anspach & Hobday. I think I might have mentioned that they make one of the best porters around, if not, I can assure you they do, trust me. I managed to talk to them about letting me into their fine establishment and helping them out.

The day came but I'd poorly organised it meaning I had to get there from my parents early in the morning, during rush hour. The brewery is in Bermondsey, London. If you've ever heard of the Bermondsey mile, this place is either the first point of call or the last depending on how you look at it. For those who haven't heard of it or had the chance to take part, the 'Bermondsey Mile' is a pub crawl along more or less one road visiting some of the top breweries in London. I am unlucky enough to not have been able to take part as I tend to work Saturday and Sunday, actually I work every weekend.

My train ticket cost me just over £22. A price so high someone suffering from vertigo would have more than likely passed out. I mentally caught myself, just in time before I shat myself. After surviving what could have been a minor major incident, I boarded the train and was on my way. Stuffed into the giant sardine tin with a crotch in my face for the entire duration of the journey.

I bought the wrong bloody ticket and could only use it on zone 1 of London's fare zoning system. This little hiccup meant that rather than getting the train to Bermondsey I had to get off at London Bridge. I was very early so it really didn't make any difference to me if it took two minutes or half an hour.

Well, being half an hour early was a bit silly. One never wants to come across as too eager. I walked off in a direction away from the brewer in search of somewhere to find a coffee and pass the time, it was then that I bumped into Paul, the brewer.

He escorted me inside and took me up to the office. I was introduced to Jack, I think he is in charge of the business side of the operation. We had a brief chat while Paul made some coffee. I wasn't sure how to behave, I didn't know any of these guys but they were so welcoming and friendly that I soon settled in and it was soon time to make some beer.

IPSaison was the beer we would be brewing, along with bottling a whole batch of Pale and labelling various other batches.

I got stuck right in, grabbing in bags of malts from the grain store and the other ingredients we needed for the brew. I weighed out the malts from the brew sheet and the hops when the time came.

Stirring the malt into the hot liquor is hard work, really hard. I suppose it makes me sound like a bit of a wimp but it was my first time stirring in over 100 kg or malt into about 300 litres of hot liquor. It is like they say, mixing a big old bowl of porridge. Part of this stage involved stirring around with the paddle, seeking out and obliterating the 'cakes' often large clumps of malt that cling together minimising the surface area resulting in a less efficient extraction process.

After every last cake had been destroyed it was ready to be covered and left to let the hot water do its thing for about an hour.

There was no time to relax, we had to sterilise bottles, dry them, do some labelling and packaging. Then once the sterilised bottles had been dried, we had to fill them with the primed pale. It all added up to a good and productive days work.

An alarm sounded signifying to us that the mash was complete ans it was time to sparge and transfer the wort (the sugary hot water solution) over to the brew kettle where it is brought to the boil and the hops and sometimes over ingredients are added. The wort was first recirculated over the malt and then sparged with the remainder of the hot liquor. This was to help wash off any sugars that are potentially still clinging to the malts. It partially dilutes the overall wort but also increases the overall efficiency of the extraction.

As the wort slowly made its way to the kettle and covered the elements and was turned on to bring it to the boil, I weighed out the hops that we would be using. Turning the heating elements on as so as they are covered allows the water to come to a steady boil as quickly as possible.

Bottling isn't all that bad, with some tunes in the background and a small amount of time to get used to it, you soon find a rhythm and it flies by. I'm not saying that it is fun but eventually it becomes just another function of life that happens as if by auto pilot, without us being really conscious of its happening. This frees you up to focus on more important like the bacteria 'Brettanomyces' quite literally taking over the world. It is everywhere, floating around us as we think, speak and breath, not just in the soured beers we drink.

Steam starts blowing out of the rudimentary chimney. It's ready for the first addition of hops. A timer is set to remind us to add the next batch as we get back to bottling.

Over 1000 bottles filled, a couple hundred labelled, all of them packed. With the brew nearing completion, we are almost ready for a well deserved beer.

On the wall in the brewery tap room/bar area were several taps. Some of which I'd not tried or even seen around. A Sour, a Peated Gose (I'm told it's pronounced Go-Za), Galaxy Saison and a beer I'm told is a total pain to make, the Cream Ale. I wanted to try them all, so I did.

I started with the Pale, as I'd had it before I knew it was going to be good. I jumped onto the Cream Ale I had a few varieties when I was in Toronto, Canada, years ago but as it was so long I couldn't remember anything about them or what they even were. I don't quite understand the style so think I need to try it again, or at least discuss them so I can generate an informed opinion.

The next beer that filled my glass was something that I think had literally changed my life. I'm sure the cliché of 'love at first sight' is overused to the point that it is rendered meaningless and stupid but in this instance it was love at first smell. Galaxy and I will be together, we must be together or at least I'm going to use it in my next pale. Never have I ever fallen in love with a hop. With a holiday in Australia just around the corner, the prospect of trying many, possibly too many pales hopped with Galaxy was enough to arouse me, in a non sexual way obviously.

I had the Sour and the Peated Gose which was a bizarre and unsettling mouth feel. It was light, but felt as if it filled your entire mouth and was surprisingly refreshing for such a salty and slightly smoked beer. With the White Coffee Milk Stout on, I could not not have one. Before I left I finished the session on another Galaxy Saison. I won't even try and describe it, just try it, it has changed my life forever.

The hard almost back breaking work of the day was remarkably rewarding, especially when it ends in a beer tasting.

anspachandhobday

Her Royal Highnesses Head

So, after missing out on their beers at the London Drinker Beer Festival the other week, I felt I owed myself a visit to The Queens Head. A brew pub off the Grays Inn Rd, Holborn, London. I actually wanted to sample all they had on at the festival but by the time I actually got in, they had sold out.

Cancelling any plans that I'd made, when I hadn't. I simply sat and thought trying to justify to myself that I should go, no, I had to go there. Even if I had made plans, I didn't, you can quite easily change them. After all, all that is required is simply rearranging a few things in your head until your potentially busy but free day becomes a busy day. So make plans I did, instead of moping around thinking of things to do I went out in search of the pub.

The Queens Head happens to be a short walk from Frank's flat making it the obvious exploratory destination for the afternoon. Without reading anything about this place, or their beers, knowing it was a craft beer pub that had its own in-house brewery was enough. Enough to excite anyone with the slightest interest in decent pubs and good beer.

Admirably decorated and looking like most of the original fittings had been kept whenever it was most recently 'fixed up' or however you would call it. It was tastefully done, a cool pub perfectly mixing the old with the new. What's more there were taps almost spanning the entire length of the bar and fridges packed full of beers from all over. I had to pause for a moment and have a think, another long feeling thought process that literally takes less than a nano second to complete in reality. All of a sudden something grabbed my attention, like the excruciatingly loud engine of a Harley Davidson motorcycle or a person of mesmeric beauty. It was a beer I'd heard a bit about, not all that long ago.

'Monolith', a dark barrel aged beer from a brewery called 'Burning sky'. I'd been told it was that it was unimaginably rare, rarer than the cliche of something being 'as rare as hens teeth', it was rarer than that. Or so I was told, in bottle at least, I don't know about keg. For that reason alone I had to try it, not just out of curiosity or the want to try what was apparently such a delicious beer.

My Pale Ale phase a few months ago seems to have passed. Drinking crisp, refreshing pales when we are in a season of sub-zero temperatures and moving back to some of my favourite styels, the dark beers, porters and stouts. Just as it starts to warm up. Obviously I still drink pales and other styles and depending how brave I'm feeling, the occasional sour.

Frank had a half of the pubs very own 'Brown Ale' it was good but suffer from food or drink envy I did not. Monolith, jet black, as deeply black and glossy similar to that of the black, glossy object of desire in the 1968 Stanely Kubrick epic, 2001: A Space Odyssey. Equally as shiny and smoother than the finest cup of coffee you would ever know, not mention that it is bursting with truly complex flavours and aromas. Aged in Burgandy (Pinot Noir) barrels but I might be wrong. A tartness like soured cherries and blackberries from the use of a sugar devouring beast, the Brettanomyces strain of yeast. Both an incredibly complex and rich dark beer with sour notes, it was a delight. Holding the glass up to the light, it was a glorious beer, a spectacle. A beer to admire and savour, so much so that I took my time with it, allowing it to caress as it went down with each sip.

Jealous of Frank's position doesn't quite cut it, okay so I do get to sample my fair share of some amzing and some not so great beers but living in a place that has so many amazing pubs, some of the best that London has to offer and all on his bloody doorstep. I mean Craft Beer Co N1 is enough but it doesn't stop there, there must be at least half a dozen in less than a mile walk. And then there's Bottledog, a great little bottle shop selling all sorts of weird and funky beers.
If you have the money and are feeling adventurous, one could always pop on the Eurostar and scoot over to Belgium for the day, after all, it is only a couple of hours away.

burningskybeer

Well, the first thing I saw when I typed in Queens Head London into the search bar read, 'Best Pub in London'. That tells you something.
queensheadlondon

An Astronomical Cowboy

All that was missing was a forty piece orchestra, conducted by the maestro of Westerns from a legendary series directed by Sergio Leone. Starring everybody's favourite gringo, Clint Eastwood.

The other night I took home a couple beers from work. Two from world renowned brewery 'Brewfist'. An IPA with a whopping great IBU (International Bitterness Units) of 70 and an Imperial Chocolate Coffee Stout made with pasta water.

I started with 'Spaceman', the IPA. We'd only had them in a couple of days and already the stock had reached an alarming level and we were nearly out. The beers popularity and whoever wrote the shelf ticket for it, claiming it to be "the best IPA I've ever tried' really made me want to try it. More than want to try it, it was obligatory that I tried it.

Already my expectations of this beer had raised to an appropriately astronomic level. Could it truly be an IPA that is 'out of this world'. Forgive the cheesiness but with such a beer and with the name it has, it's just too easy.

As soon as the cap popped off the bottle and on hearing that 'pfft' sound that beers make when the pressure building inside the bottles is allowed to touch the surrounding atmosphere for the first time, almost like a baby coming out from the womb being so used to receiving all its oxygen from the umbilical cord and having to take a deep breath for the first time after 9 months of captivity. With that sound, the air around the bottle filled with the distinct aroma of clean, strong smelling tropical fruits coming from the amount of hops used. If you walked into the room without knowing a beer had been opened you might mistake the scent for a pleasantly scented candle, one of those mega expensive ones, or an oil burner, gently vaporising delicate or pungent essential oils.

The fragrance lifted me up to a happy place, somewhere I rarely visit and not normally before I've had the chance to drink any beer. The smell continued to intensify and only got stronger as I poured the beer into a glass. The taste did a good job of holding its own against such an aroma. For a beer with an IBU of 70, it was remarkably smooth and fruity, not at all as dry and bitter as I was expecting.

The shelf label wasn't lying or exaggerating. It is an exceptional IPA, certainly one of the finest I have ever tried. I don't know what hops they used but I think I might like to use them in my next brew.

Returning to planet Earth with my feet firmly on the ground, it was time for the next beer. the Imperial Stout.

'Spaghetti Western' was its name, an Imperial Chocolate Coffee Stout. A collaboration between 'Brewfist' of Italy and 'Prairie Ales' from USA. I thought it had a great name, but what interested me the most about it was the fact that it had been brewed using 'spaghetti water', the left over starchy solution from cooking pasta. What would this rich starch filled water do to such a beer?

Sadly I couldn't quite tell what difference the pasta water actually made. Was it there as a malt substitute, I'm not sure. Flavour wise it was a bloody good Imperial Stout. Distinguishable notes of bitter chocolate and roasted coffee. At 8.5% it's not going to knock you out in one hit. Although, if it were Clint Eastwood, being so quick on the draw and firing without flinching, I'm certain the outcome would be very different. However, it is still pretty damn strong so drink it with an air of caution. I would be tempted to try their 'Grappa' version but not unfortunately I can't stand Grappa.

brewfist

prairieales

Possibly the best shop ever... if you like beer
realale.com

LDBCF 2015 and some other stuff

A bit drunk would be an understatement, although I wasn't drunk enough to behave a fool. I'd made my way from the brew day via my uncles to drop my stuff off then to the annual London Drinker Beer and Cider Festival.

Not really expecting much going on how it has been the last couple of years and seeing a queue of about fifteen people stretching around the corner. I can't say that I was overcome by glee. I needed some cash so went to the nearest ATM about a minutes walk away to withdraw some. Upon my return I could see the queue had grown a few beards and facial warts and looked somewhat uglier. It took about twenty minutes, after queuing, paying entrance fee and purchasing a hot air balloon clad pint glass, I was finally in.

Phone signal was poor inside the thick walled, grand old Camden Town Hall.

A quick but thorough look at the programme/menu led me directly to the 'London' section of the festival. It was good to see CAMRA had opened up and allowed a few new craft breweries in, a lot more than I'd seen at any of their festivals before. Quite pleasing. As fate would have it, Frank, my uncle, brushed right past me without noticing. Unaware of my presence, he was like a shocked hamster when he received a tap on the shoulder from somebody not resembling a sponge.

I saw some beers and marked them for later and ordered a 'Hook Island Red' from the Five Points Brewery in Hackney. Even though I've tried quite a few of their beers, I hadn't got round to sampling this one. I am delighted to say that it was dee-lish. A flavourful and smooth red rye with lashings of hops and a body to match.

Frank asked for a recommendation and I quickly pointed to the 'Railway Porter', another beer from Five Points and a Porter from Crate Brewery. He opted for the latter and was impressed. More impressive is that it happened to be one of his best of the night. When we returned and he wanted to sample the Railway Porter, it was all out.

The only non London beer of note, that we tried of course, I can't exactly say much about the ones we didn't, was a beer from Roosters Brewery, Yorkshire. A beer appropriately named 'Londinium'. Their pales are some of the finest out of this country that I have tried, but in my opinion this didn't quite live up to it. It seemed a little thin but had enough flavour to just about make up for the lack of body.

It was Croydon's turn to step up to the plate, or bar as it was in this case. 'Cronx', a brewery I'd been told about a few months back but hadn't tried as I'd never actually seen any of their beers anywhere. Here was my chance. Sticking with the Porters and Stouts, the 'Entire Porter' was a no-brainer. Describe as having chocolate notes and a character of caramelised raisins, it did. I was detecting sweet, sticky, syrupy prunes on the finish. Smooth like expertly tanned calves leather and with a body so full it was like eating a figgy pudding. Wonderful stuff.

How could I resist trying one of my favourites, Fullers '1845'. So rarely have I seen it on cask that I had to give it a go, I would have been a fool not to. Smoother, richer, darker, more intense, altogether better than it is in the bottle, much better, a million and one times better. I could have easily had another if my eyes weren't magnetically fixated on their 'Russian Imperial Stout'. At 10.7% my eyes instantly jumped out of their sockets, well my left was a little reluctant due to some recent issues but it quickly caught up and joined the right eye.

Jet black, as thick as crude oil and so spirituous its vapours would have been ignited if near a naked flame. Wow is all I can say and think I need to say really, an exceptional beer.

I promised myself that I'd end the festival on a Geuze of sorts, I'm not sure of how to spell that as I've seen so many variations I don't know which one is correct or most used.

They had none, not a single sour at the festival. My plan had instantaneously been shot to pieces. The short bearded, role playing game playing fellow behind the bar tried his best to console me to no avail. It was a valiant attempt but still left me longing to exercise the facial muscles that so rarely get used.

Boon Faro was the beer he chose for me. What it was going to be like I hadn't the foggiest unlike this crystal clear beer.

I had to rinse the glass out after I finished the Imperial Porter as I didn't want the strong dark beer ruining the taste and appearance of the next one. Ruining is a harsh word, maybe I should have said altering. I went to the loo downstairs and had a wee. All that liquid quickly fills my one cup bladder causing me to urinate on an annoyingly regular basis. I washed my hands, rinsed the glass and went back upstairs to the bar. With a clean glass and an empty bladder I was ready for the Boon offering.

It was copper coloured and smelled of honey not like urea rich urine that I thought it would.

If you're expecting something quite unpleasant but what you get is not at all what you were expecting, it can often come as a shock both good or bad.

Boon Faro was a good one, sweet not sour. What was it. More like a sweet honeyed cider than a sour that I thought it might have been. With no signal was unable to research it to find out any more information about this confusion in a bottle.

I left with a smile on my face but not because I'd defeated another sour, but because I'd found something altogether odd. A uniquely sweet and fulfilling beer.

Upon recent research, the beer is how it is because it has 'candisyrup' added before bottling. It is a sweet/sour Lambic beer.

After the beer festival, we went to a pub near Chapel Market. Another pub in such a small space. A triangle of greatness.

A food pub that also has a fairly broad selection of ales and craft beer. The 'Joker of Penton Street' is going to be a starting point for an upcoming adventure of mine. When, I don't know. I don't remember what we drank there, I can imagine it was good and most probably something we'd had before.

It had been a while since I'd been to the Craft Beer Co N1, for me anyway. Frank came here recently to have a veggie burger and some beer. We ended the night here, in out usual seats under the watchful gaze of Churchill himself. So desperate to fulfil my urge for a sour I had an 'Evolver' a tart offering from Wild Beer Co. I can't fault those guys at the moment, everything they seem to do is gold.

The bar staff were very knowledgeable and helpful like always. The manager runs a pretty tight ship here.

londondrinker

thecraftbeerco

thecronx

cratebrewery

fivepointsbrewing

joker

fullers

boon

Brewing with Treats

Wanting to learn absolutely everything I can about brewing, I offered a local brewery a helping hand. I have done some home brewing using malt extracts and I think they came out as good as they could have, I wanted more from my own home brew. I want control of every aspect of the beer. This is why, a little late but I have decided to take a step up into all grain brewing. Brewing totally from scratch using any ingredients that I want.

The brewery and brewer will be kept anonymous to save the poor guy hassle and being inundated with emails and requests from other people.

I was looking forward to it. I'd helped out or should I say 'watched' a brewer before. That is in recent times, in breweries that aren't huge with a majority of the procedures being automated. It was a cramped pub cellar with a low ceiling meaning I had to bend my neck in order to stand, being tall that was a right ball ache and made the whole day very uncomfortable. The whole day wasn't as hands on as I'd hoped apart from carrying 25kg bags of malt to and fro and then carrying the spent grain upstairs. I did enjoy it though, and learned a lot helping to refresh my mind about brewing. Due to work commitments I never had a chance to go back and help out, I was really looking forward to seeing how a milk stout is made but missed the chance as it was on my first/trial day at work. 'Howlin Hops' beers are great. One guy working his ass off in a tiny, hot and steamy cellar creating some really tasty pales, brown ales, stouts and more. Some of the beers are pumped directly into the pub, 'The Cock Tavern' above for your enjoyment.

I think I may have previously written about this... or maybe I didn't, I can't remember.

This time was different and enjoyable in other ways. BBC6 Music in the background, long and interesting conversations and a more helpful and 'hands on' learning experience. We or he was brewing a more traditional, darker, mild bitter than he would normally. Not the hoppy pales that he'd normally brew.

Reading home brew books, forums and from the basics of brewing that I studied at college, brewing sounded incredibly technical and complex. It was almost as if you'd have to be a nuclear physicist or mathematician, the next Einstein or Hawkins to understand. How wrong that misconception is. Yes it does involve complex scientific procedures with stupidly meaningless equations that you never really need to know or understand, but at the most basics it is simply measuring and mixing.

If you follow few very idiot proof steps, using the correct quantities of ingredients; malted barley, water, hops and yeast, or anything else that you might like to add. Remembering that it is most important to keep everything clean and sanitised after the boil as you don't want to risk any contamination or anything that might spoil the beer. Half a days work could be completely ruined if you infect the beer. Follow the most basic cooking instructions and you're onto a winner.

I was treated to a stinky ham and cheese toastie using an old Brie. Then I got to try some very special trial brews.

The brewer quizzed me on some of these beers. He wanted to know if I could detect and identify the 'secret' ingredient. Being a talented and experimental cook and eater, I like to think that I have knowledge of a wide range of herbs, spices and other fancy things.

As we went through each one, I felt proud, arrogant and big headed that I managed to accurately guess each and every one. Even something so delicate when used in a brew like Kaffir lime leaves. The other blends remain a secret. Perhaps beers that will grace the shelves of shops and pubs soon.. maybe.

One of the beers was surprisingly amazing. For some time now I've been wanting to make this very beer. I like the spice and thought, about 10 years ago that it would work perfectly well if paired with a pale ale. By Jove. I think he's done it. A successful attempt. A light, crisp and zesty pale with the distinct aroma and flavour of this 'secret' spice. It was pronounced, right there in the front of it all. Somehow it wasn't overpowering or dominant and allowed the subtle hops to shine through.

I think an ideal pairing to Asian cuisine. A very different and unusual beer but intelligently thought out. Well done I say, a little annoyed that an idea of mine had been created and perfected without any input from myself. A beer I think that should definitely go into production.

I liked to think I helped out a bit at least. I figured out how to speed up a very slow donkey of a pump but turning the voltage adjuster on a transformer to increasing its output and turning the donkey into a mule.

New In... I Might Try Those

On my way into London and to save some money on transportation, I rode my bike to work so I could get the train from Richmond. Around £3 as opposed to potentially paying at least £10, it's a no-brainer.

A minor or major wardrobe choice error led to me sweating so profusely that I was forced to disrobing and turning my jacket inside out as soon as I arrived. Droplets of sweat had formed on the inside lining, like the droplets you see in nature documentaries where the camera has zoomed in onto a leaf and you can see the minuscule rain droplets. The sweat came together with the aid of gravity forming larger globules, until large enough that they took the plunge and dropped off the edge and onto the floor. My back and arms were saturated, I was soaked. It was as though I'd ridden through an invisible waterfall and come out the other end drenched.

Down filled puffer jackets are not meant for wearing whilst cycling, especially when the sun is beating down and the temperature rose to double figures.

During the week we'd taken delivery of new stock, some very cool looking beers. The special Wild Beer Co beer bottles with the waxed tops, their cans and some other random British craft beers along with some new Americans and Belgians.

With £25 in my kitty I set to work selecting some beers.

A Pale Ale, an IPA, a Saison, a Berliner Weisse, a Gueuze and a very special bottle of Wild Beer Co beer. I thought I'd try a couple of sours as I'm trying to force myself into liking them as they seem to be growing quickly in popularity. I'd become more excited to try them now rather than being so scared.

I tried my best to get through in as good an order as humanly possible, going up the strength and flavour scale.

I failed miserably and almost repeatedly picked out and opened the wrong beers. I was distracted by my uncle and a friend I hadn't seen for a couple of years. Starting off on the IPA when I was supposed to get out the Pale. Both were lovely beers, delicious in fact. From Summer Wine Brewing Co from Yorkshire. A take on classic America styles, a Pale Named 'Oregon' based on a traditional west coast recipe and an IPA called 'Diablo'. I went onto 'Epic Saison' by Wild Beer Co. I don't know exactly what the Saison style of beer is so I looked it up, after the event of course. All I knew was that the hops are toned down and they are hazy with a vegetal and earthy taste, some verge on having a sour tang to them. When I looked them up they are an old fashioned Flemish (I think) farmhouse ale that used to be brewed by the farmer and fermented and matured over the wintry months, often adding herbs and spice. They were traditionally high in alcohol but were blended with weaker beers before serving. A lesson in Saison brought to you by research from various sources.

I love being able to spoil myself with such a diverse selection of some of the best beers from all over the world.

My second mistake came when I accidentally opened the beer I'd been saving for later on that evening. 'Wildebeest' by Wild Beer Co, when I picked it up off the shelf I failed to notice that it was 11%. I was meant to get 'Calypso', a Berliner Weisse style beer from Siren. A light and fruity sour.

A small back story of mine in regards to Calypso, a beer that I should have already tried if it hadn't been aggressively suicidal. The other night when I got home from being out and was craving something sharp, tart, sour, my bottle of Calypso. I opened the fridge and there it was. It lunged at me like an unsuccessful mugger seeking vengeance after failing to prize my phone or wallet from me. I didn't stand a chance and nor did it. As soon as the gap in the fridge door was wide enough for a bottle to fit out, it struck me. A direct hit in my thigh. It bounced off and plunged half a metre to the tiled kitchen floor. At my feet, it hit the ground exploding upon impact, flinging shards of broken glass all over the floor. Soaking my feet and filling my heart with mixed emotions of both rage and disappointment. I gathered my thoughts and found solace in knowing it didn't die in vein. The smell it gave off reached deep into my nasal cavity and was powerful and delightful enough to entice me into buying it once again... So I did.

After such a pleasant beer, Calypso managed to help cleanse my palate and readied me for what was to come. 'Wildebeest' left such a lasting memory, it is simply impossible for me to ever forget it. Even if my tastes change it will always hold a place in my heart. It ploughed so many other beers out of its way to my top spot. Any beer with the ability to do that is more than worth a try, every beer drinker should try it at least once. One extraordinary beer, I'm not exaggerating when I say that it has literally gone straight to the top spot and is possibly the best beer I have ever had.

The remainder of the evening was a blur, so many beers drunk is such a short space of time. There was one stand out memory of the rest of the night. The Cantillon '100% Bio Lambic', the Gueuze I'd been dreading but was so curious about and desperate to try. Now don't take this the wrong way. It is a very well respected beer and one of the finest Lambics in the world but...

...but this kind of beer is the reason I've been unable to and unsuccessful at every attempt I've made to really get into sours.

Even though leaving an inch of this astonishingly sharp, tart and sour drink filled me with measureless depression, I could not bring myself to completing this task. I failed myself, the beer and anybody who might have once believed in me.

Tears of sadness and joy filled my eyes as I poured the remainder of this beer destitute of any trace of sugar down the sink.

for those into lambics.

cantillon

a place to spoil yourself like a king (or how I do)

realale.com

sirencraftbrew

wildbeerco

summerwinebrewery

A Salad of Suits

I don't think I've ever been in a pub with such an odd assortment of people.
It seems Holborn is the place for anybody and nobodies depending on how you like to view things.

Shakespeare's Head is a big Wetherspoon Pub situated near one of the many Crossrail development sites around London, around the corner from the London School of Economics, a hugely popular and highly regarded university. It is in the heart of London's 'Midtown', whatever that might be.
A major thoroughfare cutting a line through central London connecting the North to the South, kind of.
Perhaps the location of the pub is a major factor in determining why it has such an eclectic mix of characters.

There were builders and other types of tradesmen in small clusters around the pub. A majority of which seemed to be into the rapid consumption of pissy mass produced flavourless lagers. On the opposite end of the spectrum were the suits, I imagine most of them are lawyers or solicitors due to the fact that most of them are based around here. Possibly with the occasional banker tossed into the salad of black and white pin stripes. The suits seemed to be drinking mainly dark beers and ales with the odd one here and there with a glass of wine.
Scattered about were smallish clumps of foreigners, mostly young resembling the international student types you see all too much of around London. As most of them are probably studying law or mathematics I'll let them off as that takes a braincell or two. Even worse are the tourists, the ones that constantly block your path and move so slowly that they make standing still stressful. They were drinking what looked like a mix of anything they could possibly get their hands on.
And then there were the odd ones out, couples and other like me, lonely souls with no place to go or company to keep entertained. There is no need for alarm, I'm sure in most of those peoples cases, they have hopefully like me, just come out for a quiet drink and have happened upon a busy pub and have subsequently been sandwiched among all these people.

I was alone with no book to read, no notepad to come up to date with my writing and no reception on my phone so I couldn't even use the internet. My only company were my thoughts and the pint in my hand. All the time and space to think long and hard, drink beer and continue to ponder many of life's mysteries.

I was drinking a New Zealand Pale Ale by a brewery from Hackney. London. Appropriately named Hackney Brewery. Presumably the New Zealand Pale is called that due to the use of 'Kiwi' hops.
It was a light, crisp and zingy pale. Bursting with floral and citrus notes. An easy to drink pint that didn't take long for me to polish off the glass.

Deciding I needed a change and after scouring the bar for something different, something fuller, something dark and bursting with flavour. I fancied upon an Oatmeal Stout from East London Brewing Company. A deep dark brown beer with a fluffy off white head. Simply looking at the mildly viscous liquid in my glass was enough to make the glands in my mouth swell and exude the gooey substance we know as saliva. Liking the consistency to that of old engine oil, not in a bad way, it just so happens that that is what I was reminded of. Smooth, creamy, rich and chocolaty. It was deeply disturbing to see people drinking Guinness. With such an amazing stout on cask, why would anyone even give Guinness a second glance, let alone buy a pint. The guys behind their adverts have obviously done a good job, if were simply down to taste, this certainly wouldn't be the case.

As a pub co, Wetherspoon's are getting it spot on. Doing wonderful things when it comes to introducing small and craft breweries to the masses. A brilliant and commendable job.

shakespeares-head

eastlondonbrewing

hackneybrewery

A Tale of Two Tastings

Starting a tasting session on such a spirituous beer is never a good idea. Even if it an unbelievably complex and rich porter aged in old Pedro Ximinez sherry barrels. It is finished off with raspberries to give the beer a sour tang. 'Bones of a Sailor Part III' from Siren is a wonderful beer, a one of a kind and to me, one that is not meant to be consumed often or rapidly or in any multiples more than one.

I sampled so many beers during the session I cannot even begin to remember all of them and in what order.

There were a few from the Gloucester Brewery, from Gloucester in the West Country near Bristol, England.

On offer from them was... 'Galaxy', a incredibly fragrant pale ale. Hoppy, a good malt body and booze. Another pale ale, 'Chinook', slightly less fragrant and intense but smooth and silkier and more preferable. A black beer aptly named 'Black Simcoe', very hoppy with rich dark malt undertones, obvious to see why it is so popular. The last on offer was a 'Vanilla Porter'. The kind of beer that stirs negative emotions in traditional bitter drinkers, but unlike its suggestive name, the vanilla was mild and delicate, light and not at all sweet. It was to me a full bodied and complex porter resembling some very traditional styles.

Although I feel my tastebuds where numbed to some degree because of the strong bloody sailor's bones. I could still taste well enough, especially when I'm being told what to look for in each beer by the brewers and other people. Well, not necessarily being told but influencing my decision making.

Siren up next. I'd previously tried a few of their beers. One particularly stood out, 'Smoke Signals', the dry hopped smoked wheat sour. I saved that one for later. I had a sample of 'Broken Dream' their 'breakfast stout'. Before I had a sip, I had to find out the reasoning behind the name. Apparently it is based on the main ingredients used in a classic American breakfast. Oats, chocolate and coffee to name a few. But at 6% it is best consumed after breakfast.

I couldn't resist another try of the sailor's bones. I'd tried all the others before so when I 'sampled' them I was basically just drinking beer, not to try something new. I had a small glass of 'Smoke Signals' and a sip of water to cleanse my palate and I was ready to move on.

It was the turn of Twickenham Fine Ales. The only one of their core range I was yet to sample/drink was the 'Honey Dark'. A medium to full, malty mild gently hopped and finished off in the cask with the addition of half a litre of honey. I'm told, due to their size and demand for the beer, they cannot use locally sourced honey (from the S/W London area). There simply aren't enough bees producing enough in such a large and urban area.

I've since moved on to more experimental and dare I say it 'whacky' breweries. If well made, traditional beers are what you like and what something local (if you're in the S/W London area), then Twickenham Fine Ales are perfect for you. They have a large screen on site at their brewery to show rugby games. What rugby fan would complain about beer, food and rugby on a massive screen in the heartland of English rugby.

All this whilst at work. It sounds like all I was doing was getting drunk but work was still very much on the forefront of my mind. It's a shame more people didn't make the most of such an opportunity. A free tasting session and a chance to meet the people behind the products we all know and love or maybe are yet to. The tasting sessions at the Real Ale shop in Twickenham are a fantastic chance to try new things and get insider knowledge about all things booze.

I finished early, but had a few things to sort before I left. I bought a selection of beers, a couple as street booze for my onwards journey and the rest to take home and drink another time.

I still hadn't tried Beavertown's 'Holy Cowbell' a hoppy India Stout. It was so tasty like all of their beers. It disappeared and soon I was left sad and holding an empty can. Another brilliantly designed can with a multi coloured cows head, fantastic!

That was originally meant to be one of my street cans but as I managed to finish it before I'd even left, I had to buy more.

A can of 'Bloody Ell' a blood orange IPA by the same guys, Beavertown. To follow was a can of 'Modus Hoperandi' by the Ska Brewing Co from Colorado, USA. They should get me from A to B keeping me satisfied throughout my journey.

I thought I'd written about 'Bloody Ell' before but maybe I didn't as I couldn't find anything anywhere apart from a brief mention of its release and Real Ale getting a delivery of the stuff. Perhaps I thought a story of it so well that I'd tricked myself into believing such falsehood.

Another fantastic can, possibly their best design yet. Bright orange with a red spirally shape emanating from a skull on the bottom middle. It is one of their simplest but stand out images, the simplicity of it works perfectly.

The blood orange aspect of this IPA was ever so subtle that one could hardly detect it if it wasn't for the deep citrus aroma. As IPAs go, this was an amazing one and impossible to tell that it was 7.2%. The only way of knowing is either checking the can or wondering why you suddenly feel a bit drunk after its completion. It is a dangerous liquid in a can and should come with a hazard warning like “WARNING, HIGH ALCOHOL CONTENT, DO NOT OPERATE HEAVY MACHINERY”.

It lasted about as long as it took me to cross over Richmond bridge.

I disposed of the can accordingly in one of the many nearby recycling bins, then entered the station.

I boarded a train to take me to Vauxhall where I was to change to the Victoria line underground. I opened the can of 'Modus Hoperandi' and was struck in the face by a bouquet of hops if you could call a handful of hops a bouquet. It's an IPA aimed at 'Hop-Heads'. It had hops in abundance, a 'Hoppy Hand Grenade' with a violent hoppy flavour explosion and very much to my liking.

Unfortunately I had to quickly jump of the train and find a dark crevice to relieve myself.

Excessive consumption of alcohol tends to lead to the relentless need to urinate. I found a suitable dark and dingy corner and temporarily alleviated all the symptoms usually associated with a full and swollen bladder.

I do very much appreciate the Victoria Line, it is a line that TFL should be pleased about. Fast, comfortable and touch wood, reliable. Unless of course there aren't any inconvenient and unforeseen engineering works.

It took less than an hour to cross London as opposed to an hour to travel just over a couple of miles to Clapham the other week.

Door to door within an hour, very handy allowing me as much drinking time as possible.

My swollen bladder almost got the better of me again. However it did not, my timing was perfect. It was like I'd pulled out a fireman's hose and turned it on full blast to extinguish some imaginary flame on the surface of the porcelain loo.

After a few weeks I was once again in the confines of The Three Johns, but in a good way. I said I'd be back and there I was, a flight of three thirds in one hand and a pint in the other.

I was there for the muchly anticipated take-over from South London brewery Anspach & Hobday.

I met my uncle, said hello then went off to introduce myself to Paul Anspach of Anspach & Hobday. We had a brief conversation and I asked him for some recommendations. I had all bar two of the ones he'd recommended. One of which I'd been reading about over the week and was very puzzled by its name and how it would look and taste, a 'White Coffee Milk Stout'.

With so many scrumptious beers to chose from, I gave up and had them all. Well most of the ones I hadn't tried before. I was very drunk, I'm not going to lie but I was still very aware of what was going on. That didn't stop me or even slow me down. I was on a mission and I would see it through to the bitter or maybe not so bitter end.

Another of the beers I'd been told I 'had' to try was the 'Smoked Brown' on cask. It was specially made for the event as they don't usually put their beer in casks.

I had a brief chat with the guys from the brewery, then sat at the table with my uncle to tend to my two full pints of delicious beer. The smoked brown I'd had in bottle before but this, this was different. It was creamier, smoother, fuller and more intense. It was a pint glass full of dark brown smokey liquid goodness.

The 'White Coffee Milk Stout' was an unexpected delight. It was white and cloudy resembling a wheat beer (wit, weiss) but had an odd smell unlike that of anything I'd smelled before.

When questioned on how one could call such a beer a 'Stout', I was answered with shrugged shoulders and few words. “It is white but it is full bodied and kind of tastes as a stout should”, that it did but I was left flabbergasted all the same.

Beer names and styles get bandied around so much nowadays. The classic varieties that were once so clearly defined could now be under absolutely any title the brewer or brewery so chooses. The bottom line is, people of a traditional view, I admit, I used to be one, are going to have to forget the old ways and move with the times. After all, a name is only a name, often a false title so things can be classified more easily. The most important thing is the taste, if the taste is good and right then you're onto a winner, who gives a flying f**k about the name.

anspachandhobday

three-johns

sirencraftbrew

gloucesterbrewery

twickenham-fine-ales

realale.com

skabrewing

beavertownbrewery