Great British Pubs by Adrian Tierney-Jones

I read books because I want to go places and do things I’ve never been before, to learn new things or to see the things I know in a new way via the words of someone else. I love travel books, recipes books, history books, reference books, picture books, fiction and non-fiction. The best books make you feel part of the action or they make you want to be involved in it and experience it. A good recipe book makes you go to the kitchen, a great story makes you want to live a fuller, more exciting life. And a great book about pubs makes you want to sit in pubs and enjoy each of them for how unique it is.

Great British Pubs by Adrian Tierney-Jones, more than any other beer book I’ve read, has made me want to get up off the sofa and go places and see and do things. A book like this will list the familiar pubs which always get listed but what makes it different is that you see the places in a new way, you appreciate them differently. Adrian didn’t look to simply list 200 pubs, he looked for what makes the pub a great place.

It’s a book about what happens in pubs. It includes what the places are actually like in a physical sense but it goes beyond that and it tells you what makes it different, it tells of the things that happen inside, it paints the scene in the surrounding area, it’s about the local beers drunk at particular moments, it shows off the enormous variety of places to drink and a narrative runs through it which forms a patchwork story of the life of the pub: conversations overheard, stories told, pints poured, barmaids, landlords, tourists, local communities in action. And that’s what makes this so interesting and separates it from other pub books - it's a travel book as much as a reference guide.

Reading this book makes me want to go to every pub in it. It makes me want to sit at the bar and sip a pint of local beer while listening to what’s going on around me. It makes me want to understand for myself why the pub is such an important place.

GreatBritish Pubs is definitely one for the Christmas list. 

Southampton Arms, Kentish Town

“Ale Cider Meat” and “Ale & Cider House” are the two signs which catch the attention from afar and tell you that you are close to the Southampton Arms (I always think it’s closer than it is when I walk to it from Kentish Town tube station, and seeing that sign puts the finishing line in sight). Outside it’s a simple two-door boozer, one of which isn’t used, with a huge waist-to-ceiling window in between, letting light through to the otherwise delightfully dark bar (pubs like this should be dark).

Inside it’s narrow and long with the sort of bare wooden floors that have been blackened and worn with time and the passing shuffles of thirsty patrons. The bar curves like a backward “J” and it’s ruggedly handsome bare wood exterior flows throughout. It’s the sort of pub where you can amuse yourself through a pint just by looking around and taking it all in: the mis-matched bar stools, the close-together tables and chairs which often need people to move to allow others to pass, the small tiled fireplace, the room leading off from behind the bar (what’s in there?!), the piano which gets played a few times a week, adding a wonderful old-time feel, the low-hanging lights, the gold-rimmed clock, the chalk board sign which tells you it’s cash only, or just fawning over the beer choice and the colourful pump clips.

Starting at the curve of the bar a small hot plate keeps the roast pork warm for the rolls they serve, then it’s two Camden Town Brewery taps (the brewery is a 15-minute walk away), then 12 handpulls. Behind the bar are up to eight ciders on gravity plus spirits. The Southampton Arms prides itself on only serving beers and ciders from independent producers and the beer line-up is always thirsty reading as they serve from the top breweries in the UK. The beers are also charged at reasonable prices, with pints under £3.

The food selection is great too, with a choice of simple porcine snacks with your pint: pork pies, pork rolls, sausage rolls, scotch eggs.

The beer is well-kept and the choice is always excellent, ranging from pale and hoppy, to best bitters, to big stouts, to brewery rarities. It’s also a great place to drink with a buzzing, lively atmosphere made up of a mix of young and not-so-young, all gulping the great beer and cider, often sharing tables and stories and suggestions for what to order next.

I’m fairly fickle when it comes to my favourite pubs but the Southampton Arms is currently my top drinking spot in London.

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These photos are not mine. You can tell that because they are in focus and well composed. I got them from Travels with Beer, one of my favourite beer websites. You should check it out.

Also, if you were the guy on Friday night in the Southampton Arms who told me you like the blog then thank you, you made my week.  

King William IV: The home of Brodie's Brewery

Go as far east at the Victoria line will take you, plus a 15 minute walk past half the kebab shops in London, and you’ll find the King William IV pub. This is the home of Brodie's Brewery and their brewery tap.

It’s a large corner boozer with a huge snaking bar lined with handpulls serving Brodie's beer, one guest pump and some shiny kegs of the usual. Fires smoke in distant corners, tables are lined for diners who won’t come this evening, the big screen rolls down and Coronation Street comes on distracting eyes from looking at the floor or the beer mats or the bottom of a glass. It feels like a place for locals but it gets the inevitable beer tourists too and there’s the impression, at least on this sleepy Wednesday, that the locals don’t bother the tourists and tickers all that much, spying them with curiosity rather than parochial territorialism.

James and Lizzie are on the second shift of a double brewday when we arrive and get an unexpected brewery tour. The brewery feels like a nutty professor’s laboratory but I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the sacks of hops left open, the piled-high barrels or the stairs in the middle leading upstairs where the dog is asleep. There’s also a sense of fun and experimentation here as if trying out a new beer for the hell of it is just part of the game. Filled with the warmth of the mash tun, James stands on top of a ladder and tells us about the brewery and his beers and it’s impossible not to fall into the ‘fuck it’ spirit he seems to exude as if saying ‘ah, fuck it, let’s try this out’. And that’s something which reflects in the beers, a cornucopia born of the combination of experimentation, knowledge and enjoyment where hops are used freely (Brodie's have got a beer festival coming up on the 29th April until 2nd May. Look at the beer list to get a feel for the sort of fun they have). And the beers are good, well made, interesting and a little bit different, ranging from low-ABV pale and hoppies up to monstrous 22% Elizabethan which is the beer equivalent of a black hole. There may be the spirit of experimentation but it's all backed up by good brewing.

Kiwi is dry and fruity with that tannic Nelson Sauvin flavour that tastes like all the grape skins in the world have been reduced to a drop of lethal rasping bitterness. Citra is light and wonderfully fruity and at 3.1% you could drink it by the gallon. California sings of sunshine and hops and tastes like pineapple and peaches. Amarilla and East London Gold are both easy drinking and highly hopped. The Superior London Porter is dark and sticky and full of roast flavours.

London isn’t a cheap place to drink and pints can push at the £4 mark, but in the King William IV every pint of Brodie's is £1.99. Whether the 3.1% pale ale or the 7.2% porter, all £1.99. It’s one of those London pubs which is a little out of the way but definitely worth visiting. It’s large, filled with more beer than you could try in a session and there’s always something interesting and different on the bar. I got a good feeling from Brodies, something I can’t put my finger on, something fun and interesting. The pub is a little dated but it’s lit up by the beers on the bar and the enthusiasm coming from the brewery out the back. I’m sure I’ll be back soon.

Brew Wharf, Borough Market

Brew Wharf in London’s Borough Market is now a must-visit location on the London beer map. The recent brewery changes have seen it develop into a quality brewpub, selling excellent beer and food, while the beer brewed on site is rapidly becoming some of the best-tasting and forward-thinking cask beer you can find in the UK.

There’s a good feel to the place, as if the brewing of good beer and cooking of good food have elevated it: smart tables and chairs, bare brick walls, glass looking out and in, an open kitchen wafting its aromas all around, a large, high-ceilinged dining space opposite the ‘goldfish bowl’ of a brewery, great beer and food menus, it’s a smart little set-up (and, of course, anywhere that serves big US IPAs and has good burgers is somewhere I want to hang out).

Inside the fridges there’s wine, but there’s more beer. The beer menu gives good descriptions and tasting notes for the unfamiliar while a chalk board announces the latest additions to the fridge. The beer selection is vast and varied from lagers to imperial stouts, via the world of beer, featuring some rare British and American bottles. Then there’s the beers brewed onsite which Saints and Sinners are responsible for. With names like Hopster, Hoptimum and Hopfather, you kind of get an idea of what they’re playing around with. I’ve had a handful of the brews and enjoyed them all – Hoptimum started it all and showed their intent with a great hoppy pale ale; 3 lions was a cheeky, fruity pale ale; Punjabi was a big-hitting citrus-bomb on an India wheat ale; Tasty was a perfectly done balancing act of a brown ale with American hops; and Hopfather is one of the best cask pints I’ve had this year, one sniff and it fires you on a hop rocket straight over to West Coast USA (but then it’s based on Blind Pig, so it should), loaded with big hops, dangerously downable at 6.1%. I also tried some ABC straight from the tank and for its modest 3% ABV it’s excellent (but then it needs to be good as it’s for the British Guild of Beer Writers).

Also – and this is significant – it’s the sort of place which can entice people into trying new or different beers while having them along with food. Its location is in the middle of Foodie HQ and right on the edge of the financial area of the capital meaning that it attracts a diverse crowd - on a Friday night the beer geeks stand next to the suits who both stare at the party girls. The cask selection is constantly changing with new Brew Wharf beers regularly popping up (plus last weekend they had some Moor beer) giving people the chance to try new things (and these beers are all a bit different to the usual ubiquitous selection of me-too cask beers). It’s unique in that it has a strong base of customers and its serving more and more good beer, so here’s hoping that it can be a pivotal London location for great beers and food.

Along with the Old Brewery in Greenwich and The Florence in Herne Hill, it’s possible to get beer brewed on site (or very nearby) with a good food menu in a smart location in London. Add to this the Mandarin Oriental Hotel at Hyde Park, which has nine kegs of craft beer (did you know that?), the White Horse, the Draft House pubs and all those many other pubs serving great food, including the Michelin-starred Harwood Arms, and London is looking pretty good on the food and beer front.

White and Red; Hope and Expectation

Earlier: the town is a scattergun landscape of red and white, flags and shirts; busy supermarket, trolleys loaded with snacks and boxes of beer; on TV some woman – fake tanned, peroxide princess – says it'll be a draw, everyone else says England win, the ex-players, the presenters, the guys outside the ground with a beer in one hand and a vuvuzela in the other, they all say England win because they know you never say it’ll be anything else. Later, to the pub: the town is alive like never before; red and white in all forms; crowns, capes, shirts, flags, horns blaring, faces painted, the singing has started, come on England; an 18-stone lad wrapped in a flag, a dressed-up Saint George with air horn and moped instead of lance and white horse, girls tarted up to still appeal at two, startling white flags on their over-bronzed cheeks; everyone leaves together heading in the same direction, tribal, uniformed, a team going to battle. In the pub: everything the extra cold kind except one unannounced hand pump of Harvey's Best; a nervy undertone to the excited chatter; the lads together in the corner, an order for six pints of Carling, three of Carlsberg, two of Magners, the teams are coming out. The game: emotive anthems followed by a cheer from within come on England; the tension is immediately calmed by Gerrard – the pub collectively jump, cheer and then fall back and relax, the chatter increases, there’s laughter, no worries now; a guy - the only one in the pub eating - his chair breaks, the crowd’s wheeey is almost as loud as the one for the goal, you've had enough chips, mate, they laugh; the laughter rolls around until the mistake brings silence. Change of pub for the second half: bigger, more people, all the ale is football themed (Fever Pitch, Back of the Net, Golden Balls), in here there’s singing to put on a brave front, to cover the increased tension, to feel a part of it, to make a difference; the air horns bring repeated cheers of En-gland, Three Lions is sung every 10 minutes; pints are swallowed between the action, never during; we rise and fall together, cheer or half-look away; we claw desperately to hope, 10 minutes is enough, we can do it in five, four minutes extra fine and we can still do it; it ends. A collective, heavy sigh; a group oh well, we’ll win the next two, (we have to), but it doesn’t hide the disappointment, the broken expectation; we did all we can from our little pub, in this little town, in our patch of England’s pitch, thousands of miles from the team; we came together in force, hope, pride and we found community, shared spirit. We do it all again on Friday.

RIP: The Pub

Pubs are closing at a supposedly alarming rate, beer is getting more expensive, life is getting more expensive, people socialise differently, community has a new definition and Guinness is no longer good for you; I think the pub just entered the early throes of death.

Something has happened in the last 20-odd years to make a seismic change for the pub; a generational change. For the generation who have just reached the legal drinking age, going to the pub is something to do once or twice a week on a Friday or Saturday, tarted up and looking for action - a weekend fuel stop on a journey to Fuckedupsville. It’s not important what the place is like so long as they serve booze and it isn’t too expensive - what DJ is playing is more frequently asked than what guest ales do you have. A couple of years on, in the early- to mid-twenties, away from the bingeing, the pub is something different. We leave work (if we have a job) and go to the gym or there’s a long commute or we go home and cook and relax in front of an enormous TV with hundreds of stations zapped straight into our living rooms. Be healthy, we’re always told, eat your five a day, more than one pint or a glass of wine a day and you’re overdoing it, take at least 30 minutes exercise, don’t smoke, relax, drink two litres of water, have less salt, avoid caffeine, get eight hours sleep a night. And if you don’t do all of these then you’ll die from cancer.

Going into a local after work - at least where I am, away from a big city and in a small town - feels more wrong than right, more anti-social than social. The chaps at the bar have been there too long, it’s almost empty, it’s a realm of misbehaviour - drinking is bad for you, didn’t you know? And walk into a local pub and take a look around – there won’t be many people in their early 20s just sitting there and enjoying a beer. Call me bigoted, but if there are some then they aren’t likely to be the sort of guys who you’d feel comfortable socialising with, are they?

After we’ve decide that we don’t want to be a binge drinking statistic and stop doing the pints-and-shots of our late teens, the pub is where we go if we want dinner out, of if we are meeting friends once every few weeks, or there’s a game of football on, but it’s not a daily thing. If we want to drink daily then the supermarkets do some great deals on multi-packs, saving lots of money. Have you seen how cheap beer is in the supermarket? Why bother going to the pub? Life is pretty expensive – we need to save up for the uncertain future. Restaurants face a similar problem. It’s expensive to eat out and it becomes a luxury. Plus we can buy all the ingredients in the supermarket and cook it ourselves - everyone cooks now, don’t you watch Jamie Oliver? And haven’t you been warned about the ill-effects of bad diet and heavy drinking on society and the individual? Drinking is bad for you; stay at home with a glass of water.

This is also the generation of social and mobile media. We don’t have to go to the pub daily to meet our mates to see how they are doing, we can email them, we can text, we can call them anytime and anywhere, we can see their latest facebook status updates or tweets. We can follow what they do and others can follow us. A lot talk to more people regularly online than in real life – and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just different to how things used to be. We can’t compare today with 30-years ago. Plus the definition of community is now so much broader than it used to be, in fact, try and define community for me... The generation of social media is changing what it means to be social.  

But the pub is important. It’s where we grow up and learn to act like an adult, it’s where we become who we are going to be, it’s where we socialise and meet people - it’s the starting line of our adult life. But that’s a short burst of freedom, breaking the shackles with that legal ID, learning about life before actually living it and ordering a pint because we can. After that it changes. We aren’t brought up with the pub as part of a daily routine, instead we’re brought up with the daily routine of being told that it’s a bad thing – it’s unhealthy, you need to save money, don’t binge drink - and that is the change which has affected everything.

Soon pubs and bars will need to be specialist to really succeed. They will need to attract people in from miles around with something unique. Maybe it’s the food, the location or maybe it’s what’s on the bar. Beer bars might become more popular and a pub known for stocking great beers will get more customers, but they will probably be the type of customer who only drinks once a week. The specialist market - appealing to the connoisseur, wannabe expert or curious newcomer – might be the only place which can grow; either that or all pubs will become gastro. Can the local survive without a USP? Will the ‘local’ be one of those terms which slowly drops into antiquity.

It’s been a gradual generational shift, not an overnight thing. Fast-forward two more generations and what will the pub be? When the existing pub goers become extinct, how will the pub survive? Will it evolve? Survival of the fittest kicks in, whether we like it or not. It’s no surprise that we don’t drink out like we did two, three, four or five generations ago and it’s no surprise that this community spirit is dying (communities of people we don't know, chain pubs, corporate chain managers not doting landlords). But it’s a shame. The government battering ram of warnings and fear-mongering wins the battle of attrition; the world is dangerous so stay inside, eating healthily, not drinking and saving money – things aren’t going to get easier.

What is the real future of the pub? Can, and will, it survive as we know it, or has it already started to change?


UPDATE: Tandleman has written a reply to this post. In truth, I hoped that somebody would pick up on it and show a different side - that's what makes blogging fun. His is almost the opposite of what I say but that's understandable as he's coming at it from an entirely different viewpoint. Interestingly, if we met right in the middle we'd probably be fairly balanced and close to the real situation. What do you think about the opposing views? 

The Queens Arms, Corton Denham

Grand for its rural village location, a large garden, sweeping countryside views. The bar of The Queens Arms, in Corton Denham, Somerset, is the heart, there’s a dining area on one side and a more relaxed area for drinking and eating on the other. The floors are worn, the furniture is modern in its antiquity, tastefully miss-matched. On the bar are four handpumps (two from Moor, Adnams Extra, Millstone True Grit, plus a couple in the cellar if you know the right people); behind it are two casks of cider; in keg they have Meantime London Stout (they stopped selling Guinness a couple of years ago); Pilsner Urquell for the beer lover who fancies a lager; Amstel for the guy who doesn’t recognise anything else; a rolling tap, this weekend featuring Duvel Green; and two kegs of cider, one of them local. Lined all around is a widescreen vision of bottles - gins and whiskys, spirits, exciting world beers - pale, dark, sour. On the bar are bottles of Moor beer, packs of eggs laid in the village, a mountain of freshly baked pork pies and jars of mustard. Upstairs they have five fine rooms, cosy, smart, relaxing, ideal for a weekend away.

The beers were fantastically kept and all excellent. Adnams Extra was an ode to the Fuggle with its earthy, bitter fruit flavour while Millstone’s True Grit was brioche and citrus hops. Then four Moor beers, which was good as Justin Hawke, the Moor head brewer, was the guy who greeted me at the bar. Queens Revival (3.8%) was a great, refreshing hoppy session beer. Northern Star was a special dry-hopped batch with lots of Citra, giving a bold punch of citrus bitterness and a quenching drinkability for its modest 4.1%. Raw (4.3%), a Celeia (I think...) dry-hopped version of Merlin's Magic, was like a very good best bitter but better. And Hoppiness (6.5%), a 50/50 blend of Revival and JJJ IPA (this one also dry-hopped with Citra), which with one sniff transported me to the West Coast USA with its big, pithy, punchy citrus – bold, bitter and bloody good to see a beer of this style and quality in a British pub. We also opened a bottle of Moor Fusion, an old ale aged in ex-cider brandy barrels. There are only 700 bottles around; it’s dark and fruity and beneath that comes a dry, apple-skin flavour, a woodiness in the texture, some chocolate and spice. It’s subtle and very special. Then, picking from their spirits, two from the Anchor Distillery - an Old Potrero 19^th century whiskey which was smooth, vanilla-licked, charred, vegetal and warming, and a Genevieve gin which had crazy botanicals, a dry finish and an unexpected bready, malty middle.

We ate there too. The asparagus and local poached egg was my idea of spring food heaven, especially with the Raw. My belly pork with bubble and squeak is my idea of any day food heaven, especially with the Hoppiness. Lauren’s bream with tapenade, tomatoes and pepper was swimmingly-fresh and delicious. A rhubarb clafoutis was the lightest I’ve ever tasted and perfect with a glass of sweet Italian dessert wine (the wine list is also excellent and long). The breakfast the morning after was spot on – bacon, sausage, perfectly oozing poached eggs, mushroom, haggis, roasted vine tomatoes and toast.

The best thing about The Queens Arms is the way everything is finished with smart little touches. A fresh flower on the windowsill makes a big difference. We had a sofa in our room and a view out onto fields which tells you to slow down, you’re in the country now. The room has a pack of jelly babies and a couple of magazines. If you want to go for a walk they have wellies, they’ll even make you a picnic if you want one. The pork pies and olives on the bar are great with beer and impossible to resist. There are games in the garden for the (big and little) kids. The way the menus look and feel, the way the staff say hello, the care and attention of everything – it just makes you feel at home, the way the best pubs should.

Some pubs are perfect: a garden for the sun; a respite from the rain where muddy boots aren’t frowned upon; a fire warming the stone walls with its smoky heat; a destination on a spring afternoon: somewhere you can always find good beer, good food and good people. The Queens Arms is one of those rare places. 

There began an education

The Tap ‘n’ Tin. I was 17, thirsty to fit in, hungry to be different, eager to act like a grown up. I had dyed hair, the piercings had started. The pub was under railway bridges, heavy bouncers manned the doors. By day it’s a pub, relaxed, industrial silver, pool tables, free sandwiches, different rooms and levels throughout, big benches, great jukebox sound-system, a cool backyard in the shadow of an old, dark church. By night it transforms into a rock dive bar, loud music pumps, the crowd throb and push to DJs and live bands, hot, busy, fun. Fashion was a big thing, divided between the Goths, the Rockers, the Cool crowd and the wannabees. We went there to get drunk, to play pool, to hang out with friends and, later in the evening on the top floor, to dance wildly to great songs. The beer wasn’t good. One cask of Abbot Ale on gravity was always vinegary and stale; two casks of 8% cider which only the hardcore braved (vinegary and stale); the usual array of kegged lagers; a wall of spirits to get drunk quick; bottles of Bud and, thankfully, Newcastle Brown Ale. So there began an education in ale. Heavy bottle in hand, drinking it down, logo facing outwards to market myself as different, feeling super-cool. There was also Newcy Brown Girl. Tight jeans, funky hair, a piercing by her lip, tattoo on her back, dark eyes, one of those walks. She drank it from the bottle as she floated around, lots of eyes on her. And (this is the best bit) she had a belt made with the yellow-and-blue-starred caps, like notches or battle scars. She made us want to drink it more. And we did. Around we walked with our bottles, bumping in to people, feeling their sweat against us, our eyes stinging from the thick smoke, our ears banging from the music, our heads giddy and light from everything... So many great memories... Of playing pool, of dancing to the best songs, of going there on Christmas Eve and getting wasted, of going to a beer festival with two mates and my dad and then to the pub after, of afternoons spent there when we shouldn’t have, of pints of lager and cigarettes, of seeing people and things that opened my mind (it was there that I saw two girls kissing for the first time; it was there that I saw two guys kissing for the first time). That’s where we grew up, my friends and I, drinking bottles of Newcy Brown, trying to fit in, playing pool and dancing like we didn’t care.

I haven’t been back there for years and I really must. The pub is now flanked and linked to a laundrette, a tattoo parlour, a hairdressers and a cafe. It’s a pretty cool place to be. Pete Doherty played there once too, after he was released from prison. You will hear that story every time you mention the Tap to someone who loves it.

All Lit Up

As so often happens, topics around the beer blogs prompt posts or replies from others. This week blogs were alight with talk of the smoking ban (which was enforced two and a half years ago). The Pub Curmudgeon started it in a great post which I find hard to disagree with. Tandleman blew the doors off judging by the number (over 100!) and voracity of the comments (it’s a fiery issue!). And Dave summed things up very well as a landlord and ex-smoker. It seems to be a big ol’ can of worms.

Personally, I don’t like smoking. I never particularly minded it in pubs because it was always just a part of it – people smoked in the pub, that was fact. I only cared when I was eating or if their smoke shrouded me. For me, Tim has summed it up perfectly: ‘If I farted in a room and wafted it in [a smoker’s] face they would be offended. If my fart was comprised of chemicals that are going to kill them they would be even more upset.’ I’ve been in pubs which have almost cleared because someone farted. It’s not very nice. And just because someone is smoking on the other side of the room, it doesn’t mean I will be unaffected: smoke just isn’t very nice. And it kills people.

Smoking added to the atmosphere in some places, that’s undeniable. It has also, as Curmudgeon’s post puts so well, taken people away from the pub. Will it be the death of the pub? Frankly, if pubs are closing because people can’t smoke in them then there are bigger societal and industry issues that need looking at. Will this start anti-booze lobbyists? Probably, but they won’t get anywhere fast (it’s not the booze that's the problem, it’s the people who drink it and how they drink it).

The smoking ban is clearly an issue to some very vocal people. If you want to smoke then fine, do it, it’s your choice. But how do you expect me to sit in the pub, swirling and sniffing my pint, trying to write detailed and eloquent tasting notes, when you are blowing that smelly smoke into the air. Come on, have some consideration.

In other news, I heard something about a beer made with 32 penguins. I bought one. I’ll reserve judgement until I try it.

And the picture is taken from Godard's A bout de souffle. Belmondo makes smoking look cool, but then most movie stars of the 60s and 70s did. Only the heinous bad guys smoke in movies now.

(In Praise Of) Wetherspoons

This may come as a shocking admission but I used to ‘collect’ Wetherspoons. You see, when you are a student you drink a lot and go to the pub a lot, but no one has the money to be lavish and open the finest bottles in the most lovely establishments; you have to make do. With Wetherspoons we could more than happily make do.

Wetherspoons are berated for their lack of atmosphere, the salubrious clientele (hideous drunks, hideously drunken girls, hideous girls, old boggle-eyed chaps and their boggle-eyed mates with their carrier bags), dodgy carpets, a general all-round cheapness, that smell (what is it?), the marauding binge drinkers in fancy dress every Friday and Saturday from 9pm… but as a student none of the above bothered me, in fact, I went there specifically for those reasons (there’s nothing like fitting in). The people in the pub generally make it what it is, which means that the value-shoppers of Wetherspoons (if Tesco only sold their value range would you go in there? Who else would be in there?) and the disinterested staff create the pub atmosphere and this is probably why there are so many haters. Look beyond this and see what you are actually getting and it’s really not that bad (open those value baked beans and they taste the same as all the others).

Some of the pubs are really interesting, too. They aren’t just soulless, silent, smelly holes, there are also interesting, silent, smelly holes. Old cinemas, old banks, old opera houses, all of them different - unique in their shape and size, if not their content. And the beer – I rarely have impeccably kept pints in there but it’s rarer that I get a too-bad-to-drink pint. A lot are Cask Marqued too (if this means anything) and they feature heavily in the Good Beer Guide (if this means anything).

I’m guessing the ‘collecting’ thing come about one afternoon/evening when we were half-cut and looking at a listing of all the pubs around the UK and the lightbulb turned on – we could go to them all! This developed into a little bit of an obsession and we never left the house without ‘the bible’, otherwise known as the Wetherspoons Directory. One day, now affectionately known as W11, we visited 11 pubs in the chain, starting in Staines and on the train in to Waterloo and then halfway around London. That was quite a day. We planned a W15 but it never happened. Or, perhaps I should say, it hasn’t happened yet…

I have some great memories of Wetherspoonses (I can't get my head around the plural...): an Old Peculiar in Reading (I didn’t order it but wish I had), a few holes of pub golf which deteriorated drastically, playing the IT box every time, shots of stupid-strong rum, an in-and-out shot of tequila on the way to a Blink 182 gig just to scoop the pub, bottles of Kopparberg after beer festivals. I ate there a lot too. I know the food is far from gourmet but it ain’t all that bad either: the value menu is superb for the prices; curry night is £6 well spent (one time, I ordered my curry and it arrived before I had even sat back down at the table!!) and beer and a burger is a regular pit-stop on a pub crawl.

I’m not a student anymore but that hasn't affected the rose-tinted vision I have of the chain and I think Wetherspoons get a bad rap. Sure I can see why, but I think they equally deserve a lot of praise – they promote real ale and, more specifically, they very often feature local ales. And it’s not just one or two rotating casks, most of them have eight-plus handpumps with over half changing as regularly as they are drunk. That’s good. It’s a shame that in the last few years their fridges have changed from interesting bottles of world beer to Eastern European lager and super-sweet fruit ciders, but so what, I go there for a choice in real ale, I go there for ‘value’, I go because I’m strangely drawn to them every time I see one (habitually/fly-shit) and I go because I almost always know what I’m going to get. The rest is part of the ‘charm’.

Weathering the ‘Spoons Beer Festival

Tonight I’m on location in the pub for a spot of gonzo blogging. The picture above is my view (although my eyes, thankfully, are a little clearer than that). I’m here because it’s the first day of the Wetherspoons Real Ale Festival and I’m actually quite excited by a few of the beers that are on between now and 15th November. I’ve got two here with me now - Dambuster by Shepherd Neame and Purkmistr Bohemian Schwarzbier – while I wait for my sausage, chips and beans to arrive.

The pub isn’t too busy tonight, but it’s a big place so it’s probably-definitely the busiest bar in town. It’s the first time I’ve dared bring the laptop out through fear of being accosted. And what was the first thing that happened as I sat down and placed by shiny new kit down? I was accosted (by accosted I actually mean spoken to politely). By a semi-drunk, friendly old chap who was impressed by my ‘graphics’ and who said to me, when I told him I was going to connect to wifi, ‘I’m going for a piss, I bet you’re not on when I get back.’ He was quick, I’ll give him that, but I was quicker. In your face semi-drunk, friendly old chap who pees at speed.

[Dinner arrives. Here comes a short interlude while I eat my sausage, chips and beans...]

[Update: This is cheaply delicious. £2.99 well spent.]

Now the beer. I went for the Shepherd Neame to see how they fare with pale and hoppy ale using just Cascades. To be honest I didn’t expect much but I’m totally, pleasantly surprised – it’s good! It’s pale and crisp and an ode to the English(?) Cascade – citrus, floral, sweet tobacco, earthy, pithy, great come-get-me aroma and really quenching. It reminds me of the Cascades I used for the Smoking Hops experiment. I only had a half but I want more now.

And the Schwarzbier (brewed at Marston's), which I’ve just finished. I now have a dirty plate and two empty glasses next to me. Where’s the service in this place? The beer was another good one. Really good actually. Chocolate, smoke, liquorice; good body, great looking. Nice one. Two good choices so far.

The next challenge: get to the bar, buy more beer, don’t get laptop stolen. Question: How does one do this...?

Answer: Safety first. Close laptop, slide into bag, go to bar, order more beer, return to seat, get laptop back out. It doesn’t get stolen (incidentally, I don’t have this trouble getting a new beer at home...).

I’ve got the New Zealand beer now – two international ones on for opening day, good stuff Humphrey – Galbraith’s Mr G’s Luncheon Ale. It’s copper coloured, it tastes okay, it’s a little hoppy but a little middle of the road and forgettable – not bad, just not as good as the others.

I’m impressed with the festival line up and there are a couple of must haves – Thornbridge Pioneer, Toshi’s Amber Ale from Japan and Grumpy’s Pale Ale from Tomme Arthur from Port Brewing/Lost Abbey (brewed at Shepherd Neame) really stand out. Luckily, as I work and live so close to this place I can pop in every day to see what’s on. This means the next three weeks will mainly be spent nipping in and out of here. I think I can cope with that.

[Back to the bar...]

[Another Dambuster. And damn it’s good.]

I haven’t talked about Wetherspoons properly before in a blog. I really must. I have plenty of stuff to say about them. I guess by spending every day in one for the near future I’ll be flooded with inspirational words. At least the wifi works. And the beer is good tonight. And there aren’t too many chavs around.

It’s probably worth noting that writing ‘At least the wifi works’ was a kiss of death. I now have no internet you fickle fiend.

So yes, this post was finished and published back at the flat. So much for on-the-spot, in the thick of it ‘live action’ stuff - at least I wrote it all in the pub.

In Search of a Local

I’ve never really had anywhere that I’d call my local; somewhere close that I’d want to drink in regularly, whether it's just a quick pint after work or a long session after work. At university there were a few places spread over the three years but nothing that I’d qualify as ‘my local’. Now that I’m living in a new town I saw the opportunity to find somewhere new to drink, so on Friday I went out looking for one.

I don't want or expect much from a local other than a decent pint and a good atmosphere (if I want more then I can travel and get more), but I had a criteria to judge the pubs against. Location: How far away is it? What’s near it? What do I pass on the way there and back? For example, if it’s near the supermarket then it possibly allows me a sneaky pint because ‘there were, like, really long queues in the shop’. Beer, Range/Quality/Price: What beer do they have – cask, keg and bottle? How well is it kept? How much does it cost me for a round? Atmosphere: What it’s like inside? Quality of the landlord and locals. Decoration. The way it ‘feels’. Extras: Do they serve food and what’s the quality, range and price? Any entertainment, music, quizzes, bar games, TV, etc? Is there a garden?

Pub 1: George and Dragon.
Location: Five-minutes walk, out of the town. Not near much and wouldn’t ever be ‘just passing’. Beer: Harvey’s Best Bitter and Bombardier on cask; Guinness, Strongbow, Bulmers, Kronenbourg, Fosters, etc, keg; Bud and Newcastle Brown in the fridge. My Harvey’s was fairly well kept, no complaints. A pint and a diet coke cost £3.85. Atmosphere: Large place, lots of tables; bit of a locals’ local, busy with salubrious old chaps; working man club feel to it; pretty bad service. Extras: Lots of TVs turned to Sky Sports, two pool tables (which we couldn’t get to work) and free dartboard. Didn’t see anyone eating. Overall: Not terrible, beer fine, ok for watching TV or playing darts. Lauren didn’t like it.

Pub 2: Punch & Judy.
Location: 12 minute walk from the flat, but close to the mainline train station. Have to walk the length of the high street to get there and back so pass a lot of things on the way, including supermarkets and takeaways. Beer: Harvey’s Best Bitter, Sharp’s Doom Bar and Flowers IPA on cask; Fosters, Carling, Kronenbourg, Strongbow, Guinness on keg; Bud and Newcastle Brown in the fridge. I had another Harvey’s which was better than the previous one. Pint and a coke cost £4.10. Atmosphere: Nice feel to the place, good mix of people, music playing, friendly bar man, cosy. Extras: bar billiards (which swallowed my pound so I had to get the barman to refund it), regular live music, cool jukebox. Overall: Really nice little pub, friendly and welcoming, fun, good range of beer. I was given an old £5 note though, which was annoying. Lauren liked this one.

Pub 3: The Humphrey Bean - Wetherspoons.
Location: Five-minute walk down the high street, two-minutes from work, right in the centre of everything and I pass it almost every day. Beer: Six cask beers on, I think – Hobgoblin, Bank’s and Taylor Dragon Slayer, Leveller, Ruddles, Abbot and Pedigree; usual bottles, fairly cider-heavy; usual keg stuff including Tuborg, etc. My Hobgoblin was no good, but then I haven’t enjoyed it since they dropped the ABV from 5.2%. Lauren’s diet coke was also pretty crappy. It cost £3.50 (they wouldn’t accept the bum old fiver either…!). Atmosphere: As usual, not too busy for 8pm on Friday night. There were bouncers on the door, which is never a particularly good sign. Amusingly, we did see two laddish oiks dressed exactly the same, walk into the pub. That made us laugh; they looked like right twats. It’s a big ‘Spoons though, lots of seating for food, a huge garden out the back. Extras: Lots of food, cheap deals, quiz machines, free wifi, free condiments (I don’t want to pay for mustard when they give them away!). Overall: Not great. Bad beer this time. But I can’t help but be drawn back to it. I have had a couple of good pints in there and I’m now in the habit of ‘popping in just to see what’s on’. It’s not the best pub but not the worst.

Pub 4: The Man of Kent.
Location: The closest pub to me, less than a three-minute walk. I pass it on the way home from work (and on the way to work…). Beer: Harvey’s Best Bitter on both handpulls; Strongbow, Guinness, Fosters, etc, on keg; lots of alcopops in the fridge. The worst kept Harvey’s of the three. It cost £4.10 for ale and coke. Atmosphere: Ok, fairly busy, small pub but lots of seating and different areas. Didn’t feel especially comfortable, lacking atmosphere. Extras: Music, TV showing Sky Sports, not sure about food as we didn’t see anyone eating. Overall: Disappointing. Beer wasn’t good and Lauren’s coke wasn’t great (it seems there is disparity in how coke is kept, as well as the ale). They also looked at me as if I was trying to pay with soiled tissue for handing over the dodgy note (what?! I didn’t want to be carrying it around all night!); I didn’t feel welcome after that, as if idle local gossip was beginning. Neither of us liked it.

So my search for a local was disappointing and my earlier fear that Tonbridge is a beer wasteland was confirmed. Part of the problem is that I now compare every pub to The Bull and very few can ever come close. The Punch and Judy is a pub that I’d want to drink in regularly as it felt like the best place to hang out, but it’s the furthest away. The Wetherspoons looks like it’ll be the pub I drink in most often, although I can be door-to-door with The Rake in under an hour, so that’s always an option...!

After the little crawl I came home and opened two bottles of beer and enjoyed them more than the cask stuff I'd had out in the pubs, then I pawed through the beer collection and saw some cracking bottles in there, begging to be drunk. And then I realised something… if it's just about the beer then the best place to drink in Tonbridge is probably my flat. But as we all know, it isn't just the beer.