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A tegestologist is someone who collects beer mats. I kid you not, there's a word for it. A couple of years ago a friend's mum acquired a new house. In a neglected cupboard space she found a bag of old beer mats from the late '70s and early '80s. They fell into my hands. I posted photos of a few of them on the blog at the time - click here for a gander. Yesterday, my wonderfully resourceful girlfriend decided to decorate the pub with them.
So, to all those who think you need a big budget to decorate a pub, I give you this: old beer mats and Blu-Tack.
Thanks to blog reader Matt Blajer from Ontario, I've had the chance to try a few Canadian craft beers. Whenever he passes through London, he drops by The Gunmakers with a few bottles from his local offie.
Beau's Lug Tread has to be the most impressively packaged beers I've come across. It comes in a mighty 750ml stoneware crock with a swing top lid. The essential details - such as the abv of 5.2% - are printed on a label that hangs from a little rope around the neck. It's produced by a small brewery in a place called Vankleek Hill and is described as a "lagered ale". I was expecting something like a German Kolsch.
I was initially put off by the unusual aroma - musty with stewed apples - and the unexpected grainy texture, but there's still something very satisfying about this rough-and-ready brew. And there's so much of it in that bottle - being able to fill your glass twice (I wasn't sharing) really is a luxury.
Beau's All Natural Brewery sounds like great fun. Looking through their website, I see they recently held an Oktoberfest attended by the fat guy who played Norm in Cheers.
There's a boozy scene right now at The Gunmakers. Defying conventional wisdom - which would suggest Monday lunchtime drinking is a no-no - a crowd of our regulars have convened to cane ale at this ungodly time of the week. Most people have been drinking Proper Job (which is evidently something that none of us have).
Today's beers are Proper Job, Mad Goose, Harvey's and Landlord. Also in the cellar we have Woodforde's Wherry, Wild Hop OPA (brewed, in fact, by Harviestoun) and Adnams Old.
People like their beer pale. That's the conclusion I'm coming to. I've always been a big fan of Harvey's, and introduced it to The Gunmakers shortly after I took over. But having trialled Woodforde's Wherry as a new house session ale, I've decided to switch our allegiance from Sussex to Norfolk.
The chalk board by the bar is devoted to Wherry right now. Of course, I'll still be selling Harvey's Sussex Best from time to time (I happen to prefer it), but from now on Wherry will be our regular session bitter.
RJ Fernandez is a Filipino photographer based in London. She was introduced to The Gunmakers by the legendary Peter the Bike. You know him well - he's the man who stops the near end of our bar from falling over. Now she's a regular too. RJ's just launched a website, and two of the photos she's displayed are of people in pubs: The Newman Arms in Fitzrovia and The Grapes in Limehouse. So, now you're interested. Here's the link you're looking for.
My Carlsberg's been off for a week. It started fobbing uncontrollably last Friday, and all the tinkering within my limited know-how has failed to sort it out. Because Carlsberg is about as high on my list of priorities as the tone the doorbell makes, I didn't even get around to calling out a technician until today.
When I did, the (admittedly very friendly and helpful) chap in Carlsberg's tech support unit started to trying to sell me things. The first gadget sounded interesting - a timer that turns your remote cooler off overnight to save on leccy bills. The second set alarm bells ringing. I was asked if I clean my lines every week. Of course I bloody do. (Indeed, we do the ale lines between every cask). I was then asked whether I'd like to dispense with this time consuming and costly process, and only do a line clean once a month. Yuck. But apparently there's a new piece of kit approved by the big brewers that prevents yeast build up in the line, thereby reducing the need for maintenance. I'm not convinced.
Does every pub need a cooking lager? Discuss.
A clerk from a nearby barrister's chambers (fat tie-knot, loud pinstripes) came in for a late lunch with a mate from Geordieland. As soon as they saw our four handpumps, they decided they'd have to have a pint of each. Unfortunately for them the goalposts keep shifting: two of the beers they tried have since run out and been replaced with other guests. To make good their pledge to have one of everything, they've just started working from left to right again.
When we opened for the day, the beers on offer were Tim Taylor Landlord, Purity Mad Goose, Otter Amber and Caledonian Double Dark. The Mad Goose and the Amber are gone, and Woodforde's Wherry and Exmoor Gold have taken their place.
I wouldn't normally indulge on a Monday at noon (honest mum), but one has to sample one's own supply. Today we started selling Vedett, the swish Belgian lager from the brewers of Duvel. The presentation of the bottle and the glassware provided is beautiful. Of course, Vedett isn't the best beer I've ever had, but it's fabulously dry and clean-tasting. It accompanied my lunch of calf's liver and bacon very nicely. I think it'll be very popular.
I did at least wait until our first customer's pint was poured before I cracked open a bottle for myself. And who was that first customer? No prizes for guessing.
Will Ferrell wants to buy a pub in West London, according to Hello magazine. The American comedy actor has said that "over-priced fish and chips does not constitute a real British pub". He's right - judging by the signs outside chain pubs advertising main meals for little more than a fiver, I'd suggest that very cheap, very bad fish and chips seems to be far more authentic.
 A few weeks ago The Cask Report dropped through my letterbox. I've been dipping into it ever since. It's prepared annually by Pete Brown and sponsored by a host of peeps including the leading regional brewers, CAMRA and SIBA.
I'd suggest you get your own copy if you're interested in understanding just how important cask ale is to successful pubs. You can download it here. Pete's background is in media and advertising - not pubs - but he's certainly got a handle on his brief. My own experience - as someone who decided to dabble in the trade and ended up buying my own business - tells me that Pete is spot on throughout the report. He identifies precisely why cask ale is more important than its actual market share might suggest.
Put simply, ale drinkers these days are just the type of customer publicans need to attract. They tend to be decision makers in offices and friendship groups, leading others - who may or may not drink ale - to your pub. They're more affluent, so will spend more freely. They're more likely to eat out (as opposed to fighting hunger pangs with crisps and nuts and falling upon a kebab on the way home), so will support the dry side of your business. I've observed this first hand at my own pub.
As an aside, it's interesting that the stereotypical real ale anorak is pretty much the reverse of the customer I've described above. CAMRA panders to them by acting like some kind of boozer's trade union, banging on about "take it to the top" and moaning about beer prices. It's time they stopped doing so, and focused on the modern cask ale consumer.
Last year I asked for info about The William IV and Sweet William, the born-again brewpub in Leyton, East London. As I said then, it being so far from the central districts probably meant I'd never visit. That prediction's proved to be accurate: it's taken me fourteen months to try one of their flagship beers. Did I train, plane and automobile it to E10? Of course not. Brodie's IPA is on sale at the ivy-covered Crosse Keys on Endell Street, Covent Garden.
It's decent, combining refreshing qualities and plenty of hop bite with a full body that will please traditionalists. I tried a pint alongside one of Crouch Vale Brewer's Gold, and it stood up to that former Champion Beer of Britain well.
At the time of writing, another East London brewery is set to open in Tottenham. The brewer is writing a blog about his exploits - The Urban Brewer.
Chef's making giant pork scratchings today. We asked the butcher to drop off some pig skins with our meat delivery this morning. Yum. They'll be on sale this evening.
You'll notice I've stepped up the blogging again. It became apparent to me that lots of people enjoy this site, so would be pleased if I started paying attention to it again. Plus there's another group of people get really irritated by everything I write but can't help reading it, which is almost as satisying.
Yesterday I tried a new beer from Brew Dog. It was at a small beer festival in a pub that's just a couple of hundred yards from my front door.
I've been following the fortunes of Brew Dog since the Scottish brewery's birth two years ago. Since then, they've cropped up all over the place. I was a big fan of their core range, but lots of the stuff they've come up with since hasn't been to my taste. On the other hand, their bottled dark lager Zeitgeist was really quite nice. So it's been a mixed bag. (The fact they advertise on this website doesn't compromise my neutrality at all, you see.)
On to the beer. I suppose Nanny State is so-called because it's clearly been brewed to prove a point. Here's the blurb on the brewery's blog. Brew Dog are known for their stronger, more extreme beers, but this is a small beer at just 1.1% abv. The label on the cask claimed it was an "imperial mild" (what tosh!) and had "more hops per barrel than any beer in Britain" (or words to that effect). It was dark brown and flat as a witch's tit. It tastes harsh and astringent. It wasn't too thin - a surprise - but there wasn't much else but that unpleasant hop flavour.
So, in short, I think this is rubbish. Brew Dog have so many salivating geeks ready to lap up everything they do, they'll no doubt get a pat on the back for it. But, for the rest of us, they've already proven they can brew low-strength beers (here's my review of their 2.7% abv mild last year), so I think this is a gimmick and a waste of time.
If you want your ale served with a shot of resentment, then The Peasant's British Beer Festival is an annual event. Quaere whether somewhere staffed by people with such an active resentment for the entire affair bothers with the hassle, but there you go.
St Austell Proper Job sold out in one session - and that was on the quietest day of the week. Tomorrow's guest ales are Lancaster Blonde (had it at Ye Olde Mitre recently, and can confirm it's worthy) and Titanic Chocolate and Vanilla Stout. The latter sounds funky and - judging by the aroma that filled the cellar when I tapped it - it suspect might taste a little strange too. But it comes from a brewery that's supplied us with excellent beers in the past so I'm keen to try it. My folks are in town tomorrow, so no doubt my old man will lash into both and make his views known.
Landlord and Harvey's are on sale too. Other beers in the cellar are Purity Mad Goose, Caledonian Double Dark, Moorhouses Pride of Pendle and Woodfordes Wherry.
 There are pints that remind you why you really, really like beer. I had one of those yesterday.
Situated in that pretty part of Islington behind Upper Street and by the canal, St Peter's Street is full of those stucco-fronted Georgian townhouses you feel obliged to glower into as you pass by. You know the type - kitchen in the basement, elegant sitting room on the ground floor giving way to an airy dining room that in turn looks out onto a leafy garden. And on that street is The Duke of Cambridge, perhaps the most fervently bourgeois establishment in all of London.
Pretty much everything at the The Duke of Cambridge is organic. That's their shtick. To be fair, their commitment can hardly be questioned. If you're interested, you can read about the long list of achievements they've made in that field on their website. The one we care about is the beer offer: the cask ales come from Pitfield Brewery in Essex (formerly of Shoreditch), with lagers (light and dark) from Freedom.
As we were shown to a table for a late lunch on Saturday afternoon, I glanced sideways toward the bar and spotted Pitfield 1850 London Porter on handpump. So the default option of sharing a decent bottle of wine between two wasn't on the cards. Sorry, love. It arrived at my table looking just perfect. The waiter probably thought I was nice but dim when I made such a fuss of it. Dark and smoky and licoricey and somehow meaty, the influence of an antique recipe came through. As well as being sufficiently organic to supply this pub, Pitfield are also known for brewing beers from the past (I've written about their efforts here, here and here).
Alongside classic pilsner, porter is my favourite beer style. And that was the best draught porter I've ever had, no contest. So when I took a long draw from the glass I knew that whatever happened today, things would be fine.
I have to warn you: The Duke of Cambridge is definitely one of those places that could be accused of being "more a restaurant than a pub". And it isn't cheap - you won't get much change from £50 for two main courses and a couple of drinks. But we live in the modern world, not the 1970s, so we don't mind pubs that offer table service and focus on good food, do we? We ate dover sole and a mutton curry, followed by a mammoth cheesecake. It was excellent.
As you know, The Gunmakers is closed at weekends. Or, at least, that's the theory. In reality, we're booked up most Saturday nights for private parties (click here for details). In the last month alone we've been the venue for two wedding receptions, an engagement party and a 30th birthday.
Tonight, a very nice Scots chap who shares my love of Oor Wullie and the Broons is celebrating his 40th with an absolutely lovely crowd of pals. Chef's knocked them up a first class buffet and Harvey's Sussex Best - the birthday boy's favourite ale - is flowing.
These private parties present the most remarkable opportunity to indulge in a bit of people watching. I've learned that birds of a feather really do flock together. When we're open to the general public, I see a mixed crowd (although thankfully the rougher elements stay away). On a Saturday, you see just how similar groups of friends and family really are. Here's an example: tonight, not a single person's gone out for a cigarette. (I suppose that isn't surprising - these are educated, middle class people in their 30s and 40s.)
One of the busiest Saturdays I've ever had was last year, when half the Greeks in London descended for an engagement party. Despite being packed to the rafters and going through cases of vodka and gin, I didn't sell a single pint of ale. But then there was one party when cask beer accounted for over 80% of takings*.
* Yes, that was your party, Tony.
 I've been told that St Austell Proper Job is a great beer. I say I've been told because I've never tasted it myself. Ever since I first heard it was a winner (I think it was ATJ who raved about it one time I met him), I've been keen to sample a splash, but each time I've seen the pump clip I've been thwarted. Either it's run out, or has poured like cloudy soup in some dodgy boozer. Of course, I could have picked up a bottle from the supermarket, but that'd be pointless - we all know that bottled ales are a poor substitute for the real thing.
Well, my time has come, because there's a firkin conditioning in my cellar now. I've just tapped it, so it should be ready by Monday lunchtime when we open for the week.
St Austell is a regional brewery in Cornwall.
Last night we served Adnams Old for the first time. The cask's tipped already, but there are still a few gallons left. I'm impressed by the sour notes, and suspect the 2009 vintage is better than previous years. It isn't quite as good as Harvey's Old Ale (probably the best example of the style available on draught), but it's nearly there.
 Traditionally, old ales were dark, malty beers consumed in the winter months that had first been matured at the brewery.
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