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.
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