The Rare Ale Girl

So GBBF is gone for another year, and next year us young'uns get the pleasure of seeing the fest hit Olympia for the first time.

We had a pleasant, if rather warm, day at GBBF this year- I was accompanied by Real Ale hubby, Real Ale brother and Belgian Beer Girl. We only managed to go for one day, but if I had danced to a band that vigorously for more than one night, I might have need medical treatment (we rather enjoyed the jolly Jewish wedding music of Thursday's evening entertainment, Stan's Magic Foot). I was also delighted to win a colour changing light up rubber duck on the tombola.

But what about the beer, I hear you cry? Well, we drank lots of it. Running into Des De Moor (I do like a good name-drop) he asked us what we were mostly planning on drinking. To my reply of real ales we haven’t had before, he said ‘that shouldn’t be too difficult’.

But in fact it actually was. Don’t get me wrong, I am not claiming to have drunk all of the 700 odd beers available, but when you go to as many pubs and beer festivals as we do, it gets trickier to find new beers to try, although all the new breweries popping up are helping. One of the reasons I think it is getting harder to find new beers to try for me is that I am such a lover of the dark beers, the porters, stouts and milds, and while lots of the new breweries make luscious versions of these, there is also a huge trend for hop experimentation at the moment. I appreciate the genius involved in brewing a hop heavy IPA (and I know this makes me sound way older than my years) but I struggle to drink them over long periods of time and after a few I find myself feeling a bit more like someone on the first episode of Dancing on Ice than a Real Ale Girl. So I head for the darks.

Yes, we went on hat day.

Find some we did, however and I think Blackbeck’s Black Beck Belle was my beer of the festival, followed closely by Earl Soham’s Gannet Mild (yes I like mild and I’m not ashamed to say so). Meanwhile, Bowman’s Southsea Spice, the first beer I tried all day, and Enville’s Cherry Blonde did a go job of tempting me away from the dark side, an accolade indeed for them.

One festival that knows what its doing in sourcing the rarest, most exciting, hardest to find beers is the glorious Egham Real Ale Festival, and the 9^th one is this week. Just check out this list, and maybe I’ll see you there.

*Ascot Ales – Camberley, Surrey (2007)

Single Hop Sorachi Ace – 4.6% - Single hop

Single Hop Apollo Ace – 4.6% - Single Hop

Coconut Cayenne– 4.6% - Festival special

Chilli Exile Stout – 5.0% - Festival special

Red IPA – 5.5% - Brand new India Pale Ale

Last of the Blue Devils – Cherry Imperial Porter – 8% - Festival special



*Betjeman Brewery – Wantage, Oxfordshire (2011) (Cuckoo Brewed)

Wantage Bells – 5% – Hopmonster

Slough Bomb – 6% – IPA

Sebastopol – 7% – Imperial Stout



*Bingham, Ruscombe, Berks (2010)

Doodlepitch – 5% - Stout

Ginger Doodle – 5% - Ginger Stout



*Black Cat Brewery – Groombridge, East Sussex(2011)

Black Cat Hopsmack – 4.0%

Black Cat Original – 4.2%



*Braydon Ales, Preston, Wiltshire (2009)

YerTiz – 4.1% – Triple Hopped bitter

Galley-Bagger - 4.3% – Summer Ale

Pot Walloper – 4.4% – Ruby Coloured beer

Gert Ale – 4.8% – Russett coloured strong ale



*Brewshed, Bury St Edmunds (2011)

Pale Ale – 3.9% – Pale ale

Best Bitter – 4.3% - Best bitter



*Byatts Brewery – Coventry, West Midlands (2011)

CoventryBitter – 3.8% - Golden hoppy session bitter

Phoenix Gold- 4.2% – Blend of 3 American hops golden.

Urban Red - 4.5% – Dark Ruby best bitter



*Canterbury Brewers – Kent (2011)

Foundry Man’s Gold – 4.0% – Golden ale

CanterburyWheat - 4.4% – Wheat beer

Foundry Torpedo – 4.5%

Street Light – 5.8% - Porter

Canterbury Haka —x.x% - Pale Ale with NZ hops



*Chester Ales – Chester (2011)

Gladiator – 3.6% – Session beer.

Corvus - 4.6% – Dark.

IPA – 5.2% – IndiaPale Ale.



*Complete Pig Brewery - Britwell Salome, Oxon (2010)

Hallacre Gold - 4.2% - Golden

Red Lion Best - 4.2% - Best

Oxfordshire Black Porter - x.x% - Porter



*Devilfish, Hemmington, Somerset (2011)

Devils Best - 4.2% - Best bitter

Blonde Bombshell - 4.5% - Blonde ale

The Gold Devil - 4.2% - Golden

Stingray—5.5% - New strong Ale



*Halfpenny Brewery - Lechlade, Glouc (2008)

Four Seasons - 4.3%



*Loddon, Dunsden Green, Berks (2003)

In Yer Face IPA - 6.0%



*Longdog, Basingstoke (2011)

Golden Poacher - 4.2% - Golden

Brindle Bitter - 4.2% - Best Bitter



*Old Dairy, Rolvenden, Kent (2010)

Heffer Weiss - 5.5% -Wheat special



*Old Forge - Coleshill, Oxon (2010)

Old Ted - 3.6% - Dark mahogany mild.

Anvil Ale - 3.8% - Amber.

Blacksmiths Gold - 4.0% - Golden.

Hammer & Tongs - 4.2% - Chestnut.

Sledgehammer - 5.0% - Ruby bronze.



*Rectory Ales - Hassocks, East Sussex(1996)

Harvest Ale - 4.0%

Mild Pilgrimage - 4.5% - Mild

Rector's Celebration - 5.0%

Rector's Revenge - 5.4%



*Sherfield Village Brewery, Sherfield-on-Loddon, Hants (2011)

Threesome - 3.0% - Session beer.

Hindsight - 4.2% - Amber Bitter.

Solo Motueka - 4.3% - Single hop pale.

Solo Quintessential - 4.4% - Copper-coloured beer.

Pewter Suitor - 4.4% - Amber Bitter.

Foursight - 4.5% - Copper-coloured beer.

Pioneer Stout - 5.0% - A black stout.

Solo IPA—5.5% - IndiaPale Ale.



*Waylands Sixpenny - Sixpenny Handley, Dorset(2007)

Addlestone Ale - 4.2% - Pale copper best bitter.

Rushmore Gold - 4.3% - Golden ale.



*Westerham - Edenbridge, Kent (2004)

Bohemian Rhapsody - 4.0% - Pilsners lager.

India Pale Ale - 4.0% - India Pale Ale

National Trust Viceroy IPA - 5.0% - India Pale Ale.

Audit Ale - 6.2% - A strong ale.

Zoos, bars and fields- My Beer Summer Part 1

Yo! As pressure in the day job begins to ease off for another year, and all the deadlines have been met, I am back, with a little slice of summer beer lovin', my summer so far, punctuated by beers.

My last post (yes, I know it was ages ago) was on the hot, quickly turning icy cold, topic of cask v keg and my opinions, morals, hunches and taste buds were tested to the maximum when I volunteered on The London Brewers' Alliance Bar at London Zoo Lates.
Arriving on a rainy evening in the middle of June, we wound our way through summer dress and deck shoe clad visitors, snuck a peak at the new penguin beach, and found ourselves behind the bar, alongside the legend that is John Cryne, expert on all things CAMRA, and Andy Moffatt, mastermind of Redemption Brewing Co.
All the breweries invloved pledged to work behind the bar for 3 nights each over the two months of Fridays, and we chatted away with Nicola Chase, who works for Fuller's but also writes her own unrelated blog on ale, http://www.hop-on-fuggles.blogspot.com/.
I couldn't get enough of Twickenham's new Honey Dark, and neither could the punters as it was one of the first to go from the range of cask and keg- Camden Hells Lager, Windsor and Eton Knight of the Garter, Fullers London Pride and Honey Dew, Zero Degrees Pale Ale, Wheat and Black Lager, Redemption Alexis' ale, Sambrook's Wandle Meantime London Lager. I know I've forgotten something- feel free to fill me in if you were around.
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Real Ale Girl in keg serving shocker!

John Cryne and I eyed the keg dispenser warily; I have served many a cask ale at beer festivals but this keg lark is an entirely different matter, taste debate etc aside- its just harder to pour! You find yourself faced with spraying froth, fizz, tilting glasses, crazy heads and bizzare splutters when it reaches the end... but I felt all proper barmaid after serving a couple of pints, and it cerainly helped me understand the difference between keg and cask from the more scientific, dispensing angle.

We left our posts for a wander, and I have to say, despite it costing the paying public around 18 quid for entry to the late opening, it really was quite something watching a tiger sleeping two foot away, a crisp pint of Redemption Alexi's Ale in your hand, fairy lights twinkling above and live acid jazz behind you.


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Craft Beer Co. -Just go!


The following week saw the opening of the much hailed, much documented Craft Beer Co bar in Clerkenwell. I am not going to do some major review on here, many others have and will continue to. Meanwhile, I am simply going to continue to drink there, and all I will say at this point is, if you haven't been there yet, just go!

Then last week, one of the highlights of the year for me and my Paddock Wood dwelling family, the Hop Farm Festival. We set up the tent, stocked to brimming with cans of BrewDog Punk IPA. These little turquoise gems do the job perfectly; small enough to sneak in in your handbag (I only tried this once, late on our last night, and shocked myself with the thrill, as I am one of the most law abiding folks you’ll find) and they taste a darn sight better than the canned versions of cask beers that are readily available.

Once inside the arenas, we were initially dissapointed to see the ale offereing was Shepherd Neame Spitfire. Nothing against the brewery, or indeed the beer, but it is far less exciting than the Gadd's Festival and Sesider available last year.Then, at about midnight, we found a smaller bar, by the late night disco tent, serving Gadd's festival itself, a perfect choice for the chilled madness (if that combo is possible) of a festival, with vital rehydration powers!

caskkegcraftbloggerattiCAMRAnoisesomebloggersblahblahblah

Right then. I suppose I better stop drinking this Meantime Chocolate. I guess I shouldn't have given Real Ale Husband a bottle of Camden Wheat Beer for his birthday. Maybe I shouldn't have had that Cerveza Artesanal on my trip to Barcelona last week. In fact while we are at it, I better ban myself from drinking wine, vodka, maybe orange squash. Oh and what about tea?
I suppose I need to do all this because I call myself The Real Ale Girl. And I'm a member of CAMRA.  So therefore, I must only enjoy Real Ale.
Or so it would seem. The grand caskkegcraftbloggerattiCAMRAnoisesomebloggersblahblahblah debate. I've had enough, to be frank. I think I might take a couple of years off reading blogs on the topic until its all blown over. As if this issue will ever actually be resolved.
I joined CAMRA in 2004 as I wanted to find out more about this lovely liquid that I'd just been introduced to. I had enjoyed going to a few CAMRA beer festivals and was attracted by the prospect of reduced entry, copies of their publications in the post and meeting other people who might be able to introduce me to more ales. While I recognised that CAMRA was founded at a time when keg was king and cask on the way out, I was also aware that it British brewing was on the way up and I was excited to be drinking beer at a time when it was all getting interesting.
I want to drink beer. I want other people to drink beer. I want other people to enjoy drinking new beers, exciting beers, beers with flavour and character and oomph. It may well be that many of those beers in the UK are served in cask form, but we can all think of some bloody good beers that aren't. And to tell you the truth, I like beer too much to deny myself a new one just because I can't tick it off in my Good Beer Guide.
Campaining for Real Ale, enjoying Real Ale, writing about Real Ale, should not mean demonizing every other beer around. It just means Campainging for Real Ale. That's it. In some circles, Real Ale enthusiasts are inadvertently making Real Ale (or its drinkers at least) the demons. I have never been embarrassed of my writing name, I just hope that we can keep it that way.

Live Beer Blogging!

So here it is- the infamous Live Beer Blogging Event- brewers come and effectively chat you up for a few minutes and convince you that their beer is the best. When I say live, I mean live, so please forgive grammatical errors, bizarre punctuation and mad statements!

On my table are:

Mark Dredge www.pencilandspoon.com,

Nathan Nolan www.mrdrinkneat.com

Des De Moor www.desdemoor.co.uk

Tim Holt from The Brewery History Society

Check out their tweets and blogs to see their thoughts too.

4.36

Abbaye de St Martin Dark with the lovely Mark McLain from the Brunehart Brewery in Belguim.

4.38

A tongue party- what a zing, unsual in something this colour.

4.41

Something very old fashioned about this beer, the bottle even looks like its been in a cellar for a few years.

4.43.

Bad Attitude Brewery-  Lorrenzo , an Italian irritated by the dull scene in Italy at the time. Made cans before BrewDog.  

4.44

Two Penny Porter (Birra Artiginale.) Love the bottle, would make The Sex Pistols proud. Doesn’t taste 8.15% I get the impression this has been going down a storm around the room.

4.46

Windsor and Eton.

4.47

Conqueror  Black IPA. Ive had this one before- yum yum yum! As they say, not what you’d expect, Nathan next to me just made an exclamation of surprise.

4.48

‘Changing perceptions in beer’ Paddy the brewer says. Hugely popular, will other brewers be making it?

4.49

Des De Moor says ‘It does challenge perceptions- it’s really strange!’

4.51

Brains- SA Gold.  Ffion  Jones says ‘5.7% Golden Ale , developed 5 years ago.’ Its more popular in England than Wales.

4.53

Mark Dredge asks ‘what would you pair it with? Ffion says’ fish’ Nathan and I say shellfish’

4.56

Innis and Gunn- Canada Day special (who new Canada was Innis and Gunn’s biggest market?

4.58

Tasty! Smoky, bourbon sweetness. Delicious.

4.59.

Blown away by this beer! Why do we never see the wider range of Innis and Gunn?

5.00

There is a hit of fruit after too- 8.3% This has really changed my views of Innis and Gunn.

5.02

Gerry from Wychwood with his own beer pouring goblin. Hobgoblin 5.2.

5.03

They make 11 million in bottle, 6 million in cask. First brewed for a local publicans’ daughter’s wedding.  Weddings with Beer- one of my favourite subjects.

5.06

Adnams and Broadside with the charming Fergus.

5.08.

Fergus explains its tasting notes etc, including that it can be used to make Christmas puddings with. I made my Christmas pudding last year with Broadside!

5.09.

Just found out Dark Star were supposed to be here and haven’t made it! Darn it!

So far at the Beer Blogger's Conference...

Just over half way through The European Beer Blogger's Conference in London www.beerbloggersconference.org 

What I've learnt so far:

• Happy bloggers are better than moany bloggers.
• Red Shield goes well with salmon and parnsip.
• I'd like to go to a Brewdog bar and sit next to old couples who've been shopping.
• I quite like the flavour of diacetyl.
• Sharps brewery are up to some very exciting, little known, cool stuff.
• Rhubarb and custard sweets are tasty with a hangover.
• Pilsner Urquell's new advert is beautiful and is guarnteed to make anyone want to visit Pilsen.
• I could be more open- minded "Beer isn't bad just because you don't like it" said Kristy (Molson Coors)
• Beer folks should remember it is fun 'Its not the Middle East issue' said Darren from Beer Sweden.

More later. This is fast paced!

And one thing led to another...

I don’t really go in for all that detox lark but if ever my body has been crying out for one it is now.  What a mighty few weeks we have had. Any normal person would have come back from a weekend of 60+ different beers in Sheffield (well documented in my previous post) and drunk tea, eaten toast and watched some telly. We proceeded to fit in as many pub trips and beer festivals as we could without causing our relatives to stop speaking us.

A trip to do a boot sale near my parents’ in Kent led to a mega cider tasting (and purchasing and then drinking late into the night) at Middle Farm somewhere in Sussex.

A cooking class in Central London led to a visit to the new Old Red Cow in Smithfield Market. Well worth popping into, this is the brain child of the marvellous folks behind the glorious Dean Swift near Tower Bridge.

Meeting up with an old pal led to the pub quiz at the Grape and Grain in Crystal Palace, packed to the rafters, triumphing in such sad times of pub closures.

 A casual night round Real Ale Bro’s led to a mega tasting sesh of his Meantime College Beer club wonders.

A couple of days later, we moseyed on over to the (Stoke Newington) Jolly Butchers’ first birthday party with its amazing range of special, made for them, birthday beers, where I fell in love with Evin ‘Kernel’ O’Rhiordan’s baby.

With the brewers from Ascot and Windsor & Eton
and 'Beer Justice' Steve at Ehgam Beer Festival

Then came the Egham Beer Festival, and boy do those dudes know what they are doing. £1.35 a half for the some of the most unusual, exciting, beautifully crafted beers around. I go to a lot of festivals and I drink a lot of beer. I often struggle at festivals of this size to find anything new to drink. I struggled to find something I’d heard of, it was that well sourced a range. So good, that the brewers themselves turn up to see how their beers are going down!  I’d read about Egham fest but never made it before. If similarly, you’ve never quite made it I urge you to go. They make it easy by having three fests a year. And I promise you I am not on any sucking up mission or on any commission, just p***ed off it took me so long to go.

Then to Planet Thanet in Margate (via the Sportsman in Seasalter for a gourmet father-in-law’s birthday lunch and the delights of the gorgeous Lifeboat in Margate itself). Since our last visit to the festival a couple of years ago, the organisers had come to their senses and let us outside and also came up trumps with an impressively diverse beer selection. The Wantsum and Ramsgate joint venture Low & Behold, a 2.8% tax reducing beauty, was the perfect beer for basking in the sun- bags of flavour yet light enough not to exacerbate the sun stroke.

Back to work for a few days, and all the fun started again with Bexley Beer Fest at Sidcup Rugby Club. I wrote in depth about this lovely festival last year and again they did’nt disappoint. The added oomph of Royal Wedding brews went down well and 6 of us did a conga to the folk band while everyone looked at us with scared bemusement.

The Royal Wedding day itself saw us drinking cans of Brew Dog Punk IPA in Hyde Park at 9.30am. Quite an experience, especially as the cans look like cheap lemonade.

I woke up the next morning craving ginger and couscous (is that my own detox recipe, afterall?) Bt instead we had more beer. Hiding in the tasting rooms of the Draft House on Tower Bridge were Melissa Cole, female beer writer #1, Stuart Howe, head brewer at Sharps, and a whole lot of secret, and mightily strong, special Sharps’ beers. Stuart entertained us with his amusing stories of wierd beer creations and boy, did the selection he brought with him change my mind about the sort of beers available with a Sharps label (Massive Ale, Top to Bottom 69 Hop, Monsieur Rock... who knew?).

Finally, with the Sharps 23% Turbo Yeast Utter Abhorrence From Beyond the Ninth Level Of Hades II (yes, the full name) doing its thang, we headed over to Leyton for Brodie’s Bunny Basher Festival. I’ve never been shy to bang on about my love of these guys and their wonderfully weird and ever inventive ales. It now seems that this quirkiness has spread into the food offering too- rabbit burgers on the BBQ? Weirdos.

So, the bank holidays and random days off are all done and dusted. Back to a more sensible level of beer consumption then. Head says ‘Darn it’, liver says ‘Hurray’.

Who needs an AGM?

As we speak, Sheffield is rocking under the weight of the CAMRA AGM, a weekend of beer bonding, beer pilgrimage, beer exploration.
I did my own such pilgrimage last weekend. Never having been known to do things in the normal, easy way, we (Real Ale Bro and I) went to Sheffield on our own steam, for our own mega beer weekend- not an agenda in sight.
Saturday 9th April, our train pulls into Sheffield at 12.15pm, we are in The Sheffield Tap by 12.17. Having spent many an hour in The (lovely) Euston Tap, this was bigger (not difficult), brighter and simply the best station bar the world must have ever seen. We had 6 beers here, while it quickly became clear just how many amazing beers we were likely to come across his weekend.
Checked in, (9th floor- amazing views) we spotted The Rutland from our window. Four ales (from local breweries Raw, Brew Co. and Blue Bee) slipped down perfectly in the sunshine filled garden and before long we were at The Kelham Island Tavern. Approaching, we stepped into the photo that has been used in all the CAMRA pub of the year articles and on entering, there we were inside the Beer Tickers film. It is a weird feeling to actually, finally, be inside a place you have seen, read, heard so much about and wanted so much to go to. When you get there, the feeling is a strange mixture of cocky and smug, with awe and humbleness.
The rest of the weekend took us to The Fat Cat (which I think I actually liked more- its got more quirk, more heritage, and on our visit, a more exiting beer range) and then The Harlequin, where we enjoyed the bounty of cellar runs for porter, a beautiful Roast and chat with Pete, the brewer at Brew Co.
We made it over to the Devonshire Cat, where real ale pub meets student union meets world beer emporium and later, The Old House- funky, cool, with vinyl on the wall, but still all about beer.
The Bath Hotel was a 1930's treasure, and we squeezed in to listen to the live blues on Sunday night, the Derwent Dark Mild fitting the aura of the place so well.
A bus ride to the Rising Sun, and a bar lined with beers by Abbeydale and more, and a huge box of used pump clips looking for caring homes, started off Monday beautifully. We popped into The Red Deer on the way back into the city. A pleasant pub, but in a city where most places have a beer selection to blow your mind, this pub just felt a bit too much like the less adventurous of the pubs we find at home.
Walking back into the city, we spotted a Thornbridge logo flying in the sky. In reality, it was on the side of a whitewashed bar, Trippets, which treated us to some of the rarer Thornbridge ales and a room full of beery, quirky memorabillia.
The Good Beer Guide unfortunately led us to The Musuem, a souless city centre Greene King pub, and so we hotfooted it back to the Rutland for a range of beers completely different from those we'd had two days before. Finally, grabbing our cases, back to The Sheffield Tap.
One weekend, 65 different beers and some truly amazing pubs.
I'm sure those AGM folks are having a whale of a time (judging by the tweets, the conference deabating is just about being outweighed by exploring the beer delights).
However, we certainly got quite a kick out of doing it ourselves. And felt more than a touch of envy about those who live in The Valley of Beer. Do they know how good they've got it?


P.S Hope you like the new look. There are photos of this trip on a memory card about a mile away from where I am now, some will be added soon.

Let's hear it for the girls

Early this week, I got a bit star struck. I'd been invited (get me) to the launch of the Project Venus Collaboration beer Venus Jade, a beautiful beer made by an equally beautiful gang of lasses- female brewers from across the UK and Ireland: Sara Barton from Brewsters in Grantham, Grainne Walsh from Metalman Brewery, Waterford, Eire, Sara Carter, from Triple FFF, Michelle Haylock Kelsall, Offbeat Brewery, Crewe, Cheshire and Kathy Britton from Oldershaw Brewery also in Grantham.
Off to The Rake we went. Now those of you who have met me in person will know I'm not usually described as shy and retiring. But here I was, lurking in the corner- not knowing how to approach this group of groovy women who spend all day, every day creating beauty in a glass for us all to enjoy, while I just stand about drinking it. Listening in, I waited for an opening to join in the conversation- nodding and smiling while they discussed how many kilos of hop were required in the morning. All of a sudden, my beer knowledge and passion didn't matter anymore- these ladies make the stuff. What do I know?
But, inevitably, I got chatting (thanks Jane  www.school-of-booze.com  and Marveline www.funf-media.co.uk/beerbeauty/ for coming to get me!) And several pints of the gloriously summery, way too easily drinkable Venus Jade later, it was like an episode of Loose Women but without Jane McDonald, thankfully.
You don't need me to bang on about the role that women have in beer today. Its all been said. But what this beer did was actually show it. And show it off, in all its elegance and style.

L-R: Sara from Triple FFF, Kathy from Oldershaw, Real Ale Girl, Grainne from Metalman, Sara from Brewsters

Humbled, and in awe of these groundbreaking, creative, collaborative beings, I ambled into the Market Porter. Knocking me right out of my pondering was a copy of the new London Drinker. With an article by me. Nothing anywhere near as cool as creating my own beer, but its a start. Strange how it has a pink cover this month...

We know where it's at!

Another blogpost, another Friday night. I do go out on other days of the week, honest. But this particular Friday night could not possibly go unblogged. For this Friday night saw me waiting under the clock in Waterloo. Not for a romantic liaison, but for Real Ale bro to appear so we could wing it on over to La Gothique for the Wandsworth Common beer Festival. Now the history of the place is indeed fascinating, what with its Crimean war orphanage, trench recovery hospital, World War 2 interrogation centre and the detention of Rudolph Hess. It is also architecturally intriguing, this eerily lit chateau sitting in the middle of blocks of flats, criss-crossed below by train tracks and the common.



But we all know what the real draw is. That beer list, is quite simply, dudesome. Twitter has made it impossible not to hear about all about the cool niche scene happening right now; collaborations, limited editions, quirky versions of established beers. However, hearing about the beers is one thing, getting them is another, especially if you don’t have the sort of life that means you can jump on a train at 1pm to get to the launch before it all runs out. These beers also bring a whole new slant to Beer Ticking. There is nowhere to tick ‘em- they aren’t listed anywhere! Which all adds to the exclusivity, the feel of the hunt, the buzz of actually finding one.


Or all of them, in a courtyard in Wandsworth as the sun set after a spring day that was dressed up as summer. The sneaky Dark Star Hophead Citra version, Oak matured casks of Sambrook’s Wandle and Junction (the cutest little 36 pint casks ever seen!) Summer Wines’ Apache APA, Redemption Trinity Pale Mild, Windsor and Eton Conqueror Black IPA... It was like stepping into the last few weeks’ hot topics in the beer realm of Twitter, without needing to go to work with a hangover or trekking to a pub on the other side of London only to get there two minutes after the cask is drained. Although, we did miss the Hophead Citra, by just one pint. That’s the last time I am honest when the barman says ‘Who’s next?’


This really is a beautiful time to be a beer drinker in London. Yesterday, I was performing in Verdi’s Requiem at the Blackheath Halls and post performance, gasping and in need of a major beer style quench, R.A bro produced the most beautiful selection of brown bottles that he’d picked up on a quick afternoon hop to Kernel’s Saturday shop.


Imperial Brown Stout, on its first day of release, was just what Verdi himself would have chosen, I am sure. Followed by Suke Quto Coffee IPA, Dark Star/Kernel Imperial Marzen and blissful mainstay, London Porter. I am saving the Redemption and Kernel collaborative Mild until after tonight’s performance.


It’s all going on in London town- these limited editions and collaborations, as well as all the launch nights, make the beer scene here ever changing, innovative and, well, darn good fun. But thank goodness for festivals like Wandsworth Common’s, for giving those of us with day jobs the chance to get hold of them!

The perils of a night with no real ale

Friday night. Real Ale Husband isn’t home yet, it’s been a busy week, and it’s time for a rewarding drink. I look at our bottled ale selection- some fine specimens. And herein lies the rub. These beers are treasures R.A.H and I bought in a delightful farm shop on the outskirts of Oxford. (When I say farm shop, it was more posh supermarket in the middle of nowhere, but being a Londoner, anywhere that sells carrots with the mud still on feels rustic. If you ignore the woman flogging loyalty cards.) Anyway, the beers we purchased in this Waitrose in disguise were lovely specimens. Beers we can’t easily get in bottle form round these parts. (I’ve yet to enter the world of online beer ordering- it still pains me to picture the lonely landlord round the corner twiddling his thumbs while mine are twiddling on computer keys ordering beer to drink at home.) However, these beers we bought as we simply couldn’t resist- Hook Norton Double Stout, Wickwar Station Porter...



So as I said, this was my problem come 6.30 on Friday night. I couldn’t open one of them without the presence of R.A.H. These were treasures discovered together, to be enjoyed together. So now what? Aha. A wilting bottle of Sainsbury’s basics cider lies half full (or half empty? You decide). That’ll do. That’ll clear the stresses of the working week and I am sure you will agree that there was no way the hubby would mind that disappearing.


Then he arrives home, and a bottle of Cava flies down our throats during dinner. We get rather excited about the line up of the upcoming Hop Farm festival and dance around the flat to Iggy Pop, and the party mood tempts us into a shot each of something bright blue and raspberry flavoured lurking in our drinks cabinet. (It’s more of a shelf, actually- it doesn’t have the doors that are surely prerequisite for a cabinet.)


We head on out into the Lew-sharm night, armed with a drink for the train journey (Boris hasn’t banned us from drinking on this form of transport.) So, this pre-party tipple should have been one of the aforementioned bottled beers, I agree. However, something in the Lust for Life lyrics subconsciously made R.A.H reach for the vodka and make a portable Moscow Mule in a bottle of ginger beer.


We arrive at the party. In a wine bar. No real ale (or in the words of the dear ex-bus conductor ticker, Clippie- NORA), nor any beer that wasn’t Becks. Hell, I’d already started on the vodka, I better carry on. Vodka and Tonic please. Next- this is a wine bar- let’s get wine. Then- Oh look- you’ve got a Portuguese Bock- do you want to swap it for the rest of my wine? And then I stumbled, got a bit loud(er) and declared I needed to go home.

A hangover like no other ensued. My head was yelling "What are you doing to me, carzy woman? This is not the usual cosy yummy beer stuff that I am used to!" My stomach was equally unforgiving, "How dare you, Real Ale Girl! I will make you pay!" And I will keep the rest to myself.

I tried toast. Paracetamol. More sleep. Hot chocolate, tea, ginger tea, lemon green tea. And then I went to the pub. To the beer festival at The Grape & Grain in Crystal Palace, to be precise. One half (North Yorks.' Flying Herbert) and all was well with the world. Hangover gone. Kapoof.
The moral of this long and winding story? Only drink real ale. That’s it.

Giving something back...

Cor blimey, you may recall me last month (yes, it has been a while) complaining of being a widow to my dear husbands other love, football. Well, I’ve gotta take it all back as he has been a beer widower on many occasions since that last post. But what is the point of drinking all this beer if there is no time to write about it? (Well, there’s lots of point to drinking beer other than writing about it, but it’s darn frustrating, I can tell you.)

'Volunteering' with the lovely Bill at Pigs Ear 2009

It all started with a fateful night at The Dog and Bell in Depford, when, at a SE London CAMRA branch, fuelled by one too many Rudgate Battleaxes, I agreed to do take over the branch newsletter. All very well and good until less than a week later, after several Ringwood Fortyniners at the Ladywell Tavern, I ended up on the branch’s Beer Festival committee. (May 28th and 29th, Beckenham Rugby Club, by the way. I’ve not been put on publicity for nothing, you know.)

I’ve also been beavering away on pub surveys for the Good Beer Guide- I think I’ve saved up 5 years of branch volunteering and shoved it all into one month. I don't think I can count working at CAMRA festivals working, you are paid in beer!

I know I have some readers who are quite anti- CAMRA (and some who would rather see the whole organisation shoved into a mash tun and left for the enzymes to go to town on.) I agree there are some elements of the St Albans crusade that can be a tad out of date- believe me, of all folks, I would know. On the other hand, this is part of the charm. I love hanging out with the old school dudes at a festival. At Battersea last week, I ran into Malcom who holds me responsible for the fact he has worked at 25 festivals in the last year. (Not as creepy as it sounds- I put him in touch with the staffing officer at Pig’s Ear for his first festival volunteering experience and he’s never looked back). I had a good old natter about stout with Paul, who always wears shorts, and compared festival planning notes with the dude that is John Cryne (fresh off his appearance in the BBC news.)

However, I am all too aware that these festivals can turn as many people off as on. Which is why I get involved.

“We need you- you know cool people!” The festival organiser cried when I said I was too busy.

“You’re mates with the man from the Dean Swift and went to the Kernel Black IPA launch” said another. “You know how to use twitter!”

What persuasion. How can a girl say no?

Let's all club together

This week, you could call me a football widow. Real Ale Husband had training on Thursday and matches on Friday night, Saturday afternoon and is currenlty out for a Sunday morning match. However, I don't like the term football widow. It implies I'm sitting around weeping at him leaving me alone (well, I only do that occasionally). It gives the impression that he's out having fun while I'm at home oslaing over a hot stove (actually, that was only during the Friday match, and the homemade burgers were bloody lovely.)
Football widow does not suggest the fun that I have as a result of all his running around fields pretending to be a professional footballer and taking it all a bit too seriously.
I am not left behind at all, oh no, because I have discovered THE CLUB.
Occasionally, I think I'll go along and support the lovely South East Athletic boys as they battle, week in, week out, after the holy grail of Bromley and District Football League glory. Occasionally, I make it for the match. Often, I turn up sometime during the second half. However, usually, I scrape into the bar about the same time as the boys emerge from the showers.
The John Roan club house. A place of big screen TVs and piles of kit bags, of geezers who knew my Grandad and sepia team photos from yesteryear. And of ale. Great ale. Even if it seems  to be only me,  Real Ale Husband and occasionally, Real Ale Father-in-law drinking it- apparently lager is more refreshing after hard graft on a muddy pitch. I wouldn' know. But what I do know is that  love this place. I love the ever changing seasonals from Harvey's and Batemans, I love the bargain dinners (Shepherd's pie, chips and beans for £3.50- carb overload, but athletes need sustenance, I suppose). I love the little boys throwing footballs about inside and smashing glasses. And I love the fact they make me feel like I belong there despite often being one of only a couple of women in the place. Maybe its the Grandad connection. Maybe its because I drink their ale and bang on about how good it is. Or maybe it's just because it's a welcoming, opening place, doing a brilliant job of serving the players and WAGS. Although I can't help thinking  probably owe them some sort of membership fee...!

Way out West-erham

I'm not a country girl. I am city born, my lullabies are the sounds of sirens and 3am revellers. Four years living in Cambridge, albeit glorious and the location of my discovery of real ale, often felt like clasutrophibic village living to me. Meanwhile, my friend from rural Devon thought she had arrived in a dangerous, graffitti- ridden metropolis.
So it was with a mix of intrigued trepidation that I allowed myself to be driven down the deepest, darkest lanes of Kent towards the Westerham Brewery. When I say I allowed myself to be driven, I should admit, we actually managed to convince Non-drinking Mum to drive us there, pay £8 for a shandy and stand in a cold barn. She didn't get the reward for the crazy journey, pot-holed driveway and snow-ramped car park that we did, as we heaved open huge sliding doors to find a brewhouse brimming with jugs of beer, the glitter of fairy lights bouncing off mash tuns and hundreds of balding heads. We paid eight quid, we poured unlimited ale into our non-plastic compostable cups and we merried ourselves squeezing into nooks between pieces of brewing equipment.
We made our way along the jugs, from the refreshing 1965 Special Bitter, the William Wilborforce Freedom Ale (mixing demerera sugar- fairtrade, of course- with Kentish hops), past SPA, British Bulldog, Finchcocks Orginial and Grasshopper, to the Christmas brew God's Wallop and the relatively new Double Stout. We had an 18 pint box of God's Wallop last Christmas (it goes very well with turkey, in fact, the food offering at the brewery itself were baps of turkey marinated in the stuff). This year, we will be making our way through an 18 pinter of the Double Stout- a beautifully rich and fruity, yet smooth, easy drinking beer full of winter warming oomph.
Westerham is a brewery which, from the farmyard location and open-air gents, appears quaint and old-fashioned but in reality is at the forefront of innovation in beer. Robert Wicks, the brewery's founder, peppered his tour with nuggets of the future- his sccience geek 'hoprocket' system (oo-er), the eclectic, up-coming international beer style specials, the ethical and environmental credentials of the brewery, all the while singing of the health benefits of ale. They have recently started growing their own malt and use almost entirely Kentish grown hops, being loyal to the beer heritage of the local area both through the ingredients sourced and by creating beers to old recipes from the archives (and the original yeast) of the famous Black Eagle Brewery.
A unique experience: a glimpse of the future, in a dark and muddy farm, while handling the biggest jugs around. (Ahem).

All Hail The Harp

I just had one of those lovely moments where you exclaim out loud with glee and want to tell someone the news. I had one such moment this morning when a text arrived saying not to go to work because of the snow. But that's not the one I wanted to tell you about. This particular exclamation happened when I finally got round to opening this month's What's Brewing.
Behold, on the front page, a most marvellous piece of news-The (glorious) Harp on Chandos Place, London, has made it into the final four for the CAMRA best pub in the country. I always look at the pubs who win that accolade with a sense of wonder and intrigue- they must be spectacular enclaves of beer joy, full of ale loving pilgrims clutching their Good Beer Guides with rapture. But they are always so darn far away an I find myself asking the inevitable questions- will I be able to go there on a weekend away? How far is it from the nearest train station? When I get there will the punters look at me like I shouldn't be there (or offer me a glass of rose)? Before the cries of complaint at my naive comments leap from your mouths, I will confess to never having, to my knowledge, been to a CAMRA national pub of the year. Not even The Kelham Island Tavern. Indeed a travesty, and a black mark on ale loving credibilty.
But- oh! The Harp! Its 15 minutes on the train from my gaff! It's a mere delight filled skip from Charing Cross! And they never look at you like you haven't got the right to be ordering a stout with bosoms, a good figure, and no memory of the '70s, as the staff are in the same boat! This place is girl power Real Ale Stylee, a place I love so much that I will risk every elbow in the rib, every sweaty armpit up the nose, every moment of missing out on a bar stall, just to be inside. It was the first place I tried the heavenly Old Chestnut by the lovely dudes at Dark Star, and Sambrook's Powerhouse Porter, hot off the press in its first couple of weeks. The beers are reliable, exciting, beautifully served and varied, served to locals, commuters and Japanese tourists in equal measure, making it truly cosmoplitan whilst endearingly quaint, charming and well, bloody small.
Bigup to the lasses at The Harp- a well deserved place in the final four.

The Tale of The Real Ale Girl and the Psychic Cellarman

Lewisham Wetherspoons. Friday, 9pm and I have the distinct feeling thre is a psychic about. One who can read into the depths of my dreams and who, for some reason, wants to make all my wishes a reality.


At the official end of  the latest Wetherspoons Real Ale festival, I had had 39 of the 50 beers. A memorable evening around The City's selections kicked it off, followed by several trips to our locals, Lewisham and Lee Green. We made a couple of stop offs in Mark Dredge's haunt Tonbridge, spent an evening in our wedding venue The Knights' Templar (where I was given a festival T-shirt which I am going to turn into the coolest bag around) and finished it all off on the last official day of the fest with an eye opening (and nostril torturing, in some) Northern Line JDW crawl. And with that, I thought it was over and I'd get all ticked off in my Good Beer Guide, with Wadworth's stunner Pixley Blackcurrant Stout getting my vote for beer of the festival.


But lo and behold- the wizard that is the Lewisham cellar manager must have snuck a peak over my tasting note booklet and decided to reward me for getting through another week with five festival ales. Four, beautiful, untried, pristine pump clipped ales that I had not yet ticked off in my guide. (I say ticked-the black paper made ticking impossible, so I used glittery little star stickers, making my fest notes more glam than Cheryl Cole).


Okay, so I understand neither Mystic Meg nor Professor Dumbledore were skulking outside Primark and Iceland on Lewisham High Street on Friday night wating for me to appear before running into 'Spoons and bewitching the mnager into putting my need-to-try beers on. I admit that deep down I know that they have a tactic of ridding their festival beers from the cellar to make way for the rather exciting looking Christmas brews. And also being able to charge 30p more for them post-fest.


But I'm going to indulge myself in the fantasy that we were being rewarded for trudging from pub to pub, clutching our untickable tasting notes on bus, tube and train, only to find the same three beers on as in the pub before. The fantasy that if you look hard enough, work hard enough, wish hard enough, you may just find what your looking for, even if it is just a beer called Black Squirrel.

The Good Beer Girl

I write as the Real Ale Girl. I am a member of CAMRA, I tick off every ale I drink in my Good Beer Guide and cask ale is my drink of choice 99.9% of the time. If you have read any of my previous blog posts, you will undoubtedly be aware that I'm just a little bit keen on real ale. So, yesterday, I moseyed on over (well, ok, I took the Northern Line, but moseying sounds more jolly, it's raining out there, we need cheering up) to the brand new Euston Tap: an ingeniously renovated architectural beauty stocked to the very atmospheric rafters with beers. Beers of such variety, origin and type that even a very hard to please Real Ale Girl had her mind well and truly boggled. Of course, we started on the cask ale. We tasted the wares of Bristol Brewing Co., Marble, Bath, among others and we compared the 10% Brew Dog Paradox to the very limited edition 9% Thornbridge Bracia and decided the Thornbridge boys won hands down. And then we moved on to the rest; a rather marvellous rest; huge accessible fridges stocked with the rare gems and firm favourites, and witty range of taps (indescribable- you'll have to go), serving an intriguing mix of draft beers from around the world. When I say we moved on to the rest; we actually managed about 5 more between us, it was a Sunday after all. Darn it, we'll just have to go back.
After The Why Cask Ale Rocks collaborative posts, we got many comments about why we stuck to cask- 'isn't it just a method of dispense?' etc. My response to this is that Belgian/ Czech etc etc beers don't need promotion, they don't have an image problem in the way real ale does in this country. However, overwhelmingly, it seemed from people's comments that there is an assumption that  being passionate about Cask Beer means a deep hatred and spurning of all other types of beer.
A few weeks ago I wrote a blog post featuring the Draft House bar in Tower Bridge. A respected blogger and hugely experienced real ale drinker posted  a comment saying it was disappointing there was only one real ale when he went to visit. On my own visit I experienced this too, but took it as a great opportunity to try something different and have become a little addicted to German Rauchbier ever since.
Real Ale Husband plays football 3 times a week. But he also loves a good tennis session and is rather good at cricket. Real Ale Brother used to DJ and loves house music. But he can also regularly be found watching The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and saw Bob Dylan, Van Morrison and Paul McCartney this summer.
And occasionally, I like to drink beer that isn't cask.
Cask Beer is not always good beer. It's not a secret that I find several of Greene King's beers quite undrinkable and would rather have a vodka if they are all that's on offer. The pub I frequent most Friday afternoons with colleagues does such a bad job of looking after its cask beers that I usually, embarassingly, end up on Strongbow. Good beer is good beer. Well kept beer is well kept beer. Cask beer is cask beer. That is all. Sometimes, those three happen simultaneously and the result is orgasmic. But sometimes, just sometimes, even a Real Ale Girl can find joy in a bottle that has travelled halfway around the world and tastes of pumpkin, not a cask in sight.

Why Cask Ale Rocks

Cask ale is important to each of us in very different ways. In this collaborative blogging effort me, Mark (homebrewer), Mark (beer writer), Glyn (bar manager) and Kelly (brewer) say why it's important to us.
 
 
I am not usually an arrogant person; colleagues and friends often say I’m quite self deprecating. But here goes anyway:  I am fashionable. I am funky. I am hip (if you can still be hip having used that word). I have been on clubbing trips to Ibiza nine times, I can understand the appeal of both jeggings and jumpsuits (though have not chosen to wear either), I can name all the contestants on the last series of Young, Dumb, Living off Mum and shop for clothes around Spitalfields. I also happen to enjoy drinking Real Ale. Regularly. And I know quite a lot about it.



So how did this come to be? Isn’t ale just for beardy people? Isn’t it impossible to be a size 12 ale drinker? Don’t I have to hang out in dingy backstreet bars or country pubs to sup the stuff? Do I need to spend all my time with old men? Well, to put it simply, no, no, no, no.


I discovered Real Ale at university. The city I partied, studied and loved in for my four student years just happened to have a perfectly timed CAMRA beer festival at the end of the summer term exams. It was (and still is) held in a pair of marquees in a park by the river and was the perfect place for a student to kick off their summer. Everyone went. The beer wasn’t even that important; it was just somewhere outside, in the sun, where we were allowed to get drunk without getting a ASBO. We lasses mostly stuck to the cider, some played it even safer at the English Wine stand. And then, at the end of my third year, it happened. A friend bought me a pint of something so dark and thick looking I expected it to taste of marmite. My friends just expected me to throw-up; it was called Skullsplitter, after all. They held a collective breath as I stepped up to the dare. It was… well, sublime. Strong, yes, but still the most intriguing liquid I had ever tried. This made champagne feel like orange squash- there was so much going on, such depth, such flavour, yet still so refreshing. To the bemusement of my friends, who were used to me wearing pink boob tubes and dancing to S Club 7 at cheese nights (this was 2004, remember), I drank the lot. And then demanded they take me to pubs where I could try more. And maybe some that weren’t 8.5%.


I’ve never looked back. I love the fact that there is ale for every occasion; a 3.5% biscuity brown ale allows me to drink 5 pints on a week night and still wake up feeling spritely, while a cherry chocolate stout gets me in a party mood. But the best thing? There are no rules. You want a midnight black porter on the beach? Perfectly refreshing. A golden IPA on Christmas day? It goes really well with turkey. You want to drink a real ale while dancing to Deadmaus? Why the hell not. For me, Real Ale is about choice- choice for free-minded people, to choose to drink something exciting, something local, something crafted with love and care, something retro. Something...(dare I say it?)... Cool.


Check out Why Cask Ale Rocks from four more young cask ale lovers:
http://rabidbarfly.blogspot.com (Glyn- bar manager)
www.pencilandspoon.com (Mark- beer writer)
http://beerevolution.wordpress.com/ (Kelly- brewer)
www.beerbirrabier.blogspot.com (Mark- homebrewer)

All the young dudes

We all know how much I love a good old fashioned pub.  Friends frequently get frustrated with me as I badger them away from a groovy bar into a backstreet local. My pals have long since learned never to scorn me for ordering ‘an old man’s drink’ but they will occasionally allow themselves a rant about my choice of venue.  Having said that, on a recent pub crawl round Forest Hill, South-East London, it was the time-warped Forest Hill Hotel, with its distinctly early 90’s karaoke set up and faded flowery seat covers, which had everyone hooked.  Except me, as there was no real ale.

But there is real ale a-plenty around London today.  In cool, funky venues with quirky design and young, interesting staff who know what they are talking about.

For the past two Saturday’s we have found ourselves in the shadow of Tower Bridge, in the delightful Dean Swift and the much talked about Draft House.  We found them both through sheer fluke last weekend but returned entirely intentionally this time round.

Last Saturday was a landmark day for Real Ale Girl.  We spotted that our 2^nd closest brewery, Kernel, is open every Saturday to buy their beer directly (for those of you interested in such things, Meantime’s new brewing premises is 3.6 miles away from my gaff, Kernel = 5.6.).  So off we sped, traipsing round the back arse of Bermondsey, carefully tracing our route alongside the railway arches, repeatedly mistaking mechanics for our destination.  But boy, what a destination.  We sat on a wooden plank, admiring the fashion for cool young lads to make themselves look as geeky and unstylish as possible, and marvelled.  We made our way through as much of the exotic range as we could manage in half an hour, and chatted to Evin, the brewer, who made my year by recognising me.  I am officially cool.

Evin recommended the Dean Swift to us.  They sell his bottles, and even the occasional rare cask.  He told us how to find it and told us they serve good beer.  He didn’t tell us just how darn hip it would be.  It is stylish, it is quirky, it was full of groovy young folks.  And I loved it.  They indeed serve good beer.  Not just cask, but a carefully selected range of draft beers from around the world- beers for the connoisseur and the casual beer drinker alike.  The bottled beer list is split into styles and features a Wheat beer from Corsica.  The place is quite simply very cool.  They know their stuff- about both beer and what makes a pub attractive to young people, and are combining the two perfectly.  And I am going to keep going back.

Round the corner is the much hyped Draft House, but hyped has negative connotations.  Hyped implies an exaggerated reputation, and that when you finally go yourself, you’ll be somewhat disappointed by the reality.  But I didn’t get that with the Draft House.  I got some amazing beer- the Rauchbier is pure heaven for a smoky beer lover, and I got to sit in a New York loft-esque space marvelling at their witty marketing and Ghostbusters wallpaper.

What is exciting about these bars is not just the beer.  And it’s not simply the style.  It is the combination of the two.  Looking around both bars yesterday afternoon, there were groups of friends having lunch and nursing hangovers.  Drinking exciting, unusual beers.  There were cool couples on their way home from Spitalfields.  Drinking exciting, unusual beers.  There were family groups having birthday lunches, drinking exciting, unusual beers- not a glass of wine in sight, the grannies were drinking Belgian fruit beers.  And there was me.  In a state of excitement that beer really is getting cool.  About bloody time.

A small step for real ale-kind... A giant leap for a John Smiths drinker.

Monday saw the launch of The Cask Report 2010 and I found myself in the heart of Brew Wharf for the shindig. Well, it was more of a presentation, but when I'm drinking ale and sneaking more than my fair share of canapes with the bigwigs of the UK's beer industry, I'm in shindig frame of mind. It did feel a bit like stepping into an edition of The Publican, but all the pictures were alive and talking to me.
(The delightful Jo Theakston from Black Sheep and I pondered what life would be like if a bomb fell on the venue: we'd all have to be drinking Guinness.)
But have no fear- the gravitas of the report wasn't wasted on me. Sitting next to Marverline Cole (aka Beer Beauty, who I want to be my new best friend) I contemplated the lack of real ale in the O2 despite it being the biggest entertainment venue in Europe and the fact that I met a woman the other day who refused to accept a free sample of real ale, saying 'I don't drink bitter.' She was drinking John Smiths.
I sincerely agree with Maestro Brown (Pete, by the way, not Gordon/ Bobbi/ Derren) that educating folks about Cask Beer is key to its continued growth. People don't hate the stuff, they just don't always consider it worth a try or understand why it’s such a special drink.
Which is why I was delighted to see exactly that education going on in one of my local Wetherspoons (oh yes, I'm lucky enough to have two within ten minutes walk from my gaff.)
This is a pub that could reap the benefits from ale educating; not lectures, nothing forceful, but friendly, free exposure to real ale’s delights. The pub itself does well with ale- they have regularly changing guests from an exciting range of microbreweries. They organise brewery tours and advertise ale events on behalf of others. So some people here must drink it. I just seem to always be at the bar next to the person who is ordering Tuborg and yet more John Smiths. It’s not a particularly glamourous area, lots of punters come to the pub alone and its really not the most stylish or inspiring of joints.
So, on a miserable Wednesday evening, in the midst of a power shower level downpour, just what everyone needed was a bit of a freebie and some friendly banter. It came in the form of a meet the brewer evening with a lovely chap from Hogsback and some dapper gents from Itchen Valley. Punters approached with inquisitive intrepidation- some were regular cask drinkers, others were after a free drink. We all sampled the wares, discussed the beer, compared the breweries’ artwork,  enjoyed the raffle (Real Ale Brother securing tickets for the Hogsback fellow from Sainsbury’s over the road) and admired the stylish shoes bedecking the feet of Gary and Mark (not from Take That, but Itchen Valley). It was low key, it wasn’t groundbreaking, it won’t make a massive impact on the market value, but if it just makes one person switch from John Smiths, just once, and helps turn 8.6 million cask ale drinkers into 8.7, then it was worth the boys making their rainy journeys.