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Christmas at The Gunmakers
 It seems that Mash, the brewpub in Fitzrovia, is no more. I'd heard on the grapevine that it had ceased trading, and a visit today seemed to confirm that. The premises were locked and totally empty on a Saturday afternoon. Of course it could reopen, but its demise has been on the cards for a while.
Mash opened in an old car showroom in 1998, a stone's throw from Oxford Circus. It was an offshoot of Mash & Air in Manchester, which itself closed in 2000. The beers were loosely German in style, and were sold alongside cheap cocktails which diverted attention from the brewpub concept. I only ever visited twice, and that was enough. When I was at uni I had a girlfriend who used to drag me to modish bars beloved of clueless Time Out staff writers. She was as fit as a butcher's dog so I was happy to grin and bear it. Mash was one of places I was made to suffer, soon after it opened. I think the decor looked out of date within ten minutes of first opening for business. Earlier this year - almost a decade on from my previous visit - I tried it again out of curiosity. The interior was unchanged, and all of the the house beers were truly diabolical. The staff seemed nice, until the manager tried to rip us off. A pow-wow with a burly bouncer was threatened, and we decided to leg it. Trust me, Mash wasn't a nice place. They failed to produce anything drinkable with that shiny kit, so beer lovers steered clear of the place. The naff, plastic interior gave it all the charm of a fast food joint. I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did. If Mash is gone for good, our great city has lost precisely naught. . .
UPDATE 8/10/2007: There's an article at Harden's about the closure of Mash. Apparently original owner Oliver Peyton sold it to a German restaurant chain called " Vapiano" last month. It looks like we'll be getting another pasta/pizza place. Yawn.
Last week, a friend's parents moved into a new house and found one of the cupboards hadn't been cleared. First they found a pile of unmarked video tapes. It later transpired these contained moving images of the previous owner wielding his pork sword in the direction of his lady wife. They also fished out a plastic bag full of old beer mats. They've fallen into my possession (the mats, not the tapes), and it's certainly an interesting haul. Some are merely amusing. Some produce a sense of nostalgia, which is strange because I wasn't even born when they were soaking up slops. A few hint at forgotten or misunderstood elements of Britain's recent beer history. Here are a few that caught my eye. .  " Double Diamond works", apparently. I've rarely heard a kind word about Ind Coope's ill-fated beer. I believe Carlsberg UK still brew it in Leeds for export to heathen lands. At first I thought the slogan on the mat simply indicated that the product contains alcohol and will effectively get you smashed. However, it's actually a contracted version of a 1960s advertising jingle: "A Double Diamond works wonders, works wonders, works wonders. A Double Diamond works wonders, so drink some today!".
 " Low 'C' Pale Ale - for beer drinkers with a weight problem". Subtle marketing is always the best. I bet fat bastards across the land went ga- ga for this stuff. I'd always though low carb beers were a relatively recent innovation from the USA, but it seems not. Marston's have reintroduced something similar in recent years - "Resolution" was the beer served up in unmarked bottles to Big Brother contestants in 2006. Presumably they felt the need for a captive audience. .
 " Skol Drinking - it's the taste that makes you do it". On the face of it, that seems difficult to believe. However, as it's only 3.2% abv, it certainly can't be the alcoholic effects that have induced millions to down pints of Skol. This is one old-school British lager that's still available today. I picked up a can from the Texaco garage on Clerkenwell Road once and, as an experiment, served it up to a friend whose beer naivety is renowned. After one sip, even he looked up from his glass in horror. He finished it, though. No beer left behind. .  " Take home Watney's" is poor advice, if the old boys who remember the brewery's keg products are to be believed. Watney's famous "Party Seven" containers were startlingly popular in the 1970s, allowing drinkers to enjoy an ersatz pub experience in their own chintzy homes. Those who've enjoyed BBC series Life on Mars (if you haven't, you probably aren't worth knowing) will remember the scene where Tyler and Hunt crack one open with the aid of a pair of screwdrivers and a hammer. Whether such bravado was necessary to breach the tin's defences is open to question. We can be sure the beer inside wasn't worth the effort. If you want to read more about one of London's least loved breweries, see here.
 Brewers aren't the only folks we have to thank for our beer. With few exceptions, the base ingredient for beer is malted barley.
During our trip to Bamberg this summer, we visited the home of Weyermann, perhaps Germany's most famous maltings. This family business supplies breweries around the world. Founded in 1879, it still operates from red brick factory buildings constructed in the company's infancy. I recall being surprised at how relaxed they were about us wandering around the compound, peering around corners and inspecting drums of Sinamar malt extract, ready to be shipped out. By one of the warehouses there's a tiny swimming pool, flanked by a beach hut and sun loungers. Not a bad place to work, I thought.
 Since 2004, there's been a tiny "pilot brewery" on site, with a capacity of just 2.5 hectolitres. This allows employees who are qualified brewers to test the company's products, while demonstrating their own skill. Bottles are on sale to staff and visitors, but aren't distributed beyond the factory gate. As such, these beers are true curiosities, and as rare as hen's teeth. I brought home a bottle of their India Pale Ale, the last thing you'd expect to find in Germany. Last night I popped the swing top and gave it a whirl.
Weyermann India Pale Ale weighs in at a healthy 6% abv. The handwritten information on the label quoted an April bottling date. Five months is long enough for a beer like this to reach its best and still taste fresh. It poured a very hazy orange, with a smooth and creamy white head. On the nose there were fantastic resinous, floral hop aromas. Carbonation was restrained, appropriately so for an English-style ale. Grainy malt dominated on the palate, with a firm, lingering bitterness throughout. An excellent beer. Sadly, it's one I might never lay my hands on again.
Information:
Weyermann Specialty Malting Company are at Brennerstrasse 17-19, 96052 Bamberg, Germany (Tel: + 49 (0)951 93 220-0, website). Shop opening times seem erratic so it's best to check before pitching up.
 Another day, another American beer (or two). I've had this stuff in the stash for far too long. Time for a raid.
Flying Dog is another brewery based in Denver, Colorado. It started as a brewpub in Aspen, before moving to a larger plant in the big smoke. Earlier this year, they opened a second brewery hundreds of miles to the east in Maryland. In total, 60,000 barrels are produced a year. That's more than Timothy Taylor, considered a regional brewer over here. In recent months a range of Flying Dog's bottled beers have been available in the UK.
 Snake Dog IPA (pictured left) is a strange beast - and that's just the label. I'm not sure I like the cartoon of a stalking hound with a writhing serpent for a head. At 5.8% abv, it's restrained for an American IPA. There's a powerful aroma of pine and citrus, followed up by a lively mouthfeel, an explosive hop burst and gloriously juicy malt. Apparently it's dry hopped with copious amounts of Pacific Northwest hops. Great stuff - this knocks the spots off the Great Divide effort I reviewed yesterday, despite being considerably less alcoholic.
Old Scratch Amber Lager (5.3% abv, pictured right) is a California Common. If you've had an Anchor Steam, you've already encountered this uniquely American variety of beer. California Commons are bottom fermented, but at slightly higher temperatures, producing ale characteristics in what is essentially a lager. This one has a seductively smooth body with more than a hint of caramel, with a distinctly bitter and fruity edge. It isn't terribly complex, but it's a decent splash.
Information: Flying Dog have a strange but informative website here. One of the founders of the brewery calls himself a "cum catcher". I don't know why. See here if you don't believe me.
 The beers that set the American craft scene alight rarely make it to the UK, just as our best stuff tends not to turn up over there. As such many British drinkers think Samuel Adams is exotic, and in the US Newcastle Brown Ale and Boddingtons enjoy unwarranted street cred.
 In recent months James Clay have been importing a number of American craft beers that are now turning up in specialist beer shops across the country. Great Divide Titan IPA is one of them. It comes from Denver, Colorado, within sight of the Rocky Mountains. The brewery is named after the great divide formed by that continent-spanning range ( pictured left). Water to the west of the mountains drains into the Pacific, while to the east rivers flow to the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. . I opened my first bottle of Titan IPA last week. A beautiful, fresh aroma of piny hops and citrus fruit is instantly rewarding when the beer is poured. Bitter but not oppressively so, it drinks easily for its strength (6.8% abv). Those strong grapefruit flavours, so common in American IPAs, aren't absent. There's a slightly sweet, malty body, but in that respect it isn't as satisfying as I'd hoped. . If I'm honest, I'd expected a little more from this one. The familiar Goose Island IPA, available in Britain for some time now, is a touch better in terms of balance and complexity. Nevertheless, Titan is worth a try if you relish the American hop experience. Despite having to travel so far from home, it tastes lively and fresh. Maybe I'd enjoy it more by the snowy peaks of the Rockies, rather than the rain-soaked roof tiles of Clerkenwell. . Information: . Great Divide Brewing Co is online here. . . Read US beer writer Stan Hieronymus' response to the points raised in this discussion on Appellation Beer.
 Not long ago Brooklyn Brewery's Garrett Oliver complained in an online discussion about an "appalling paucity of creativity in British brewing". I don't agree. Thankfully, all we need to do is point to the likes of Brew Dog to show just how far off the mark he is.
Hardcore IPA has been described as Britain's first "Double IPA". So far it's turned up in casks at a few pubs and beer festivals. The bottled version will soon be on sale. At 9% abv it's a force to be reckoned with, so it's best to find a comfortable seat before reaching for your bottle opener.
The beer is burnished orange and slightly hazy, with a small but lasting head. The mouthfeel is sweet, sticky and a touch oily, but there's plenty of bitter hop. Luxuriant flavours of citrus, toffee and caramel work surprisingly well together. The alcohol warms but doesn't burn. I'd expected a relentlessly extreme experience, but if someone had put a pint of this in front of me, I'd have happily drunk first and asked questions later.
Information:
Brew Dog is based in Aberdeenshire. The brewery's website has an online purchasing facility. Last month I reviewed Riptide, which has since received an award from Beers of the World magazine. I also referred to Hop Rocker lager recently.
 On Saturday I crossed over to the near East for the Spitalfields Live! festival. There were unconvincing models staggering around a catwalk, then amiable fatty Antonio Carluccio messed about with fungus on a stage.
My pals at Quaffs were serving a selection of beers. These included the delightful Little Creatures Pale Ale, which I tried for the first time. It's a bottle conditioned Aussie beer packed with fantastic aromatic hops, offering forthright citrus and grapefruit flavours balanced with a touch of caramel. Sadly, the beerophobic young lady accompanying me opted for a glass of champagne - some people, eh?
On our way out of the market, this sign caught my eye outside of a speciality wine merchants: "Wine Shop - WE DO NOT DEAL IN HOPS". Seems a touch rude - perhaps they're frustrated that speciality beer is beginning to gain ground on fermented grape juice*.
* don't get me wrong, I love wine. I'll have a bottle of Blue Nun, please.
Last month I was contacted by a marketing fella working on a new campaign for Stella Artois. I was happy to accept a link from the "blog" they've set up, but didn't reciprocate. Since then I've conferred with other writers, and it seems we've all been approached. In each case the initial email was very similar: the chap claimed to be a fan of the recipient's site, referring to the content of a few recent posts. He then offered advance viewing of a new website and a box of marketing bumf.
The object, of course, is to start a "viral campaign" on the internet. Having recognised that between us we have many thousands of readers, they're expecting beer bloggers to give free promotion to their product. The Stella Artois Blog lists and thanks those who have so far fallen into the trap. I'd ask those of my peers who have provided a link to or posted about the Stella site to reconsider. If this latest campaign to grab further market share for Stella Artois succeeds - at the expense of products we do like - let's at least be able to say we weren't part of it.
Remember what makes blogs unique, and what makes them popular. I'm not implacably against InBev or any other company (although sometimes I think I should be). Just remember that people don't visit our websites to read press releases from macrobrewers - the trade press covers that nicely. I didn't start a blog to provide a free service to InBev, and I suspect you didn't either. Don't get taken for a ride.
UPDATE: I'm pleased to see I'm not the only one who feels the same way. Canadian Alan McLeod has responded to this post on his own site A Good Beer Blog. Just to be clear - the aim here isn't to have a go at those who've written about InBev's Stella Artois campaign. Rather, we want to remind online writers of their individual and collective worth and urge them not to squander the credibility they've earned.
UPDATE 29/09/07: Here's an article someone pointed out to me about InBev's attempts to change the image of Stella Artois from "wife beater" to something more positive. Despite efforts to court American beer bloggers, I'm assuming the whole campaign is aimed squarely at the British market, where the Luton-brewed beer is a best seller.
  I wanted to be there. I planned to be there. The plan didn't come together.
The Munich Oktoberfest began this morning. Right now, the Bavarian capital will be swarming with beer swilling maniacs. They're expecting six million visitors - that's more than the entire population of Scotland, and much more fun. . Spare a thought for my mate Andy Neil. He'll be leading five tour groups to the festival.
I like a good pub crawl, but I've always been reticent about London's toughest drinking challenge. Fortunately, guest writer Topdog Andy has stepped up to the plate:  "It amazes me how negative Britain is about binge-drinking, but how openly it accepts ridiculously themed pub-crawls. If anyone walked into a pub the second it opened, and drank until the second it closed, they'd be labelled as what's wrong with Britain today. However, if you base the drinking around a silly theme, all of a sudden it's a demonstration of masculinity or a rite of passage.
"Recently I had the opportunity to 'enjoy' one of the most feared drinking rituals in London - the Monopoly Pub Crawl. How does it work? Well, over the course of the day, you need to drink half a pint in a pub for every street or railway station on the Monopoly Board. That's 26 pubs in 12 hours, including travel. Dressing up as an iron or a giant top hat is optional. We carried a Monopoly board with us and had a barman sign a square at every pub. "You don't have to do them in order, so the travel route is up to you, but for those who didn't excel in Orienteering at school, suggestions are available here. We pretty much followed their route, with a few alterations to cope with closed pubs (and places we were barred from): "The Lord Nelson (Old Kent Road), The Fen (Fenchurch Street Station), The Aldgate Exchange (Whitechapel), The Hamilton Hall (Liverpool Street Station), The Red Lion (Angel, Islington), The Castle (Pentonvile Road), The Flying Scotsman (King's Cross Station), The Rocket (Euston Road), The Victoria & Albert (Marylebone Station), The Dorchester (Park Lane), Ye Grapes (Mayfair), The Blue Posts (Piccadilly), The Golden Lion (Pall Mall), The Lord Moon of the Mall (Whitehall), The Sherlock Holmes (Northumberland Avenue), Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese (Fleet Street), The Wellington (The Strand), The Coach & Horses (Bow Street), The Chandos (Trafalgar Square), Oxygen (Leicester Square), The Tom Cribb (Coventry Street), Cheers (Regent Street), Leicester Arms (Vine Street), O'Neills (Marlborough Street), The Duke of York (New Bond Street), The Tottenham (Oxford Street)."
You've got to give credit to the lad. First off, he isn't even British - Canadians aren't know for their drinking prowess. Secondly, he blagged their way into the hotel bar at the Dorchester on Park Lane (despite being refused entry to Yates' on Leicester Square). Finally, despite losing all but one of seven companions who started the crawl, he and one other - Ken - made it through to the bitter end. Well done, my son.
Advertising on London's iconic black cabs mars their aesthetic appeal. As such I wasn't too happy to see Heineken branding scrawled across the car I hailed yesterday. Europe's largest brewer is pushing its yellow fizzwater harder than ever, but this time they're taking a slightly different tack. They want pubs to serve their lager with a larger head in fancy half-pint goblets. Unfortunately, I doubt whether a better pour will improve such a bland product, but the new approach is worth noting.
Meanwhile, InBev have been working on Stella Artois' image, attempting to lose the "wife beater" tag by promoting a softer, more stylish image. Over the last few weeks, myself and other beer bloggers have been contacted and offered a preview of their new marketing campaign. Suffice to say, I don't intend to help promote a product I personally wouldn't drink, but again I've watched developments carefully.
Can marketing campaigns, backing homogenised products from big brewers, do anything to help the cause of quality beer? I think they can. A recognition that beer can offer sophistication and complexity normally associated with wine can only be a good thing. Remember, a few giants dominate the market, and as such their marketing people set the tone. In their efforts to arrest the decline in cooking lager sales, the multinationals might change people's attitudes to beer, creating fertile ground for the good stuff from smaller brewers.
Here's Meantime's pink delivery van, spotted this morning. The driver was unloading outside of St John Food & Wine by Smithfield Market. The brewery supplies a number of upmarket bars and restaurants in East Central London, and as such barely a week goes by when I don't spot their distinctive pink vehicle when I'm pootling around the manor. A nifty bit of marketing.
. . . The Wenlock Arms.
 This famous Hoxton boozer sits on a corner, hidden deep within an unlovely council estate. One side looks out on a row of warehouses and modern apartments. On the other, you can peer through a permanently cracked window onto a sorry little park. The building was once the tap for a brewery of the same name, but that was demolished in the 1960s. The interior of the pub hasn't changed much since then, but I doubt they had nine handpumps on the bar when Harold Wilson was in his prime. The carpet is worn bare, dust clings to the gantry, yet the place always feels terribly comfortable to me.
You'll find ales here from microbreweries across Britain. Adnams beers are perhaps the most prosaic choice, chosen only by the timid. Liefmans Kriek is available from the keg, with a limited choice of familiar German and Belgian bottles in the fridge. Doorstep sandwiches and pickled eggs will stave off the hunger pangs if you choose to work your way through the full selection.
The pub's denizens are a varied bunch, and a fiercely loyal tribe. Locals from the estate mingle with beardy ale lovers and younger folk who've got the sense to recognise this place is something special, a part of London's history that still lives and breathes. On Friday, Saturday and Sunday evenings jazz musicians squeeze behind the piano by the door and knock out standards. Some of them look old enough to remember the Crimean War, but their fingers are still nimble.
A word of warning. When you walk in to the Wenlock, people will look at you. They might even stare. That's not because you aren't welcome - such a famous pub is used to outsiders, indeed it thrives because of them. You'll be given the once over because drinkers at the Wenlock aren't just interested in the beer. They're interested in the people that make the pub what it is. When you walk in, say hello, and order a pint, you become one of those people.
Information:
- The Wenlock Arms is at 26 Wenlock Road, N1 7TA map, website). Contrary to popular belief, it isn't hard to find, and is quite centrally located by the City of London. If you're coming by tube, get off at Old Street, walk up City Road, then take a left onto Windor Terrace, which then becomes Wenlock Road after about 100 yards. Easy.
- The pub is hosting a toast to Michael Jackson on Sunday, 30 September at 8pm.
- The full results of the poll were Wenlock Arms 23.7%, Market Porter 19.4%, Jerusalem Tavern 18.7%, Royal Oak 16.5%, Pembury Tavern 13.7%, Rake 7.9%. Thanks to everyone who voted.
This is the 200th post on Stonch's Beer Blog. Once again, thanks to you all for reading this drivel. Keep the emails and comments coming, I need your help if I'm going to drink myself to an early grave.
Wouldn't it be exciting if Fullers or Wells & Young's snatched the soon-to-be privatised Budweiser Budvar from under the nose of Anheuser-Busch?
Rumours to that effect have appeared on a couple of US beer websites. Sorry chaps, but it isn't going to happen. Their source appears to be this article in Forbes. A careful reading of the relevant paragraph reveals that the London and Bedford brewers are only cited as comparative examples in an explanation of why a EUR 1.1 billion price tag for Budvar may be an exaggeration. In fact, only InBev is named as a potential rival for A-B in its battle for full spectrum dominance.
While in state hands, the Budvar brewery has maintained the high standards and traditional methods that made Czech brewing world famous. Now, it looks like one of the multinational giants will get its greedy hands on this jewel of southern Bohemia. It's a crying shame that the current Prague government are so terribly short-sighted.
 In Britain, the bastard term "lager" has become synonymous with fizzy yellow stuff you'd hesitate to swill your drains with. Yet if you go to places like Bavaria or Bohemia, you'll discover that some of the best beers in the world are bottom fermented.
In the latter half of the twentieth century, lager began to outsell ale in Britain for the first time. However, British brewers were emulating our Germanic cousins long before then. Take a look at this article and the old advert to the left, both from Ron Pattinson's blog. It wasn't just Barclays Perkins, either: many of the old, regional brewers used to produce lagers under their own brand. Young's only stopped doing so when they merged with Wells last year. Lost in the mists of time is "Fullers K2", the Chiswick brewer's effort. .  Today, the majority of the lager consumed in Britain is brewed here, but marketed as being foreign. The end result is invariably pale, tasteless, and fizzy. So are there any decent British lagers? The answer is yes, but not many. . Sam Smith's Pure Brewed Lager, available on draught in their pubs, isn't bad. It's normally served in appropriately tall glassware with a voluminous head, enhancing the experience immeasurably. Meantime of Greenwich put a lot of effort into lager brewing, and in the past I've enjoyed a few pints of Union - an amber, Vienna style. The Franconian Dark Lager they brew for Sainsbury's isn't bad either. Up in Scotland, there's Brew Dog Hop Rocker (pictured right), a strange and wonderful beast bursting with spice and pine flavours from New Zealand hops. Such a bold brew will surely have its hardcore fans. In Bristol, London and Reading, the ZeroDegrees brewpubs produce a passable Pilsner and a tasty Black Lager. I think they're best enjoyed in a half-and-half mix, a popular practice among Czechs.
I'm a massive fan of quality, bottom fermented beers, particularly after my recent trip to Franconia. It's a crying shame that such a well-regarded family has such poor relations in this country. But am I missing out on any real gems? I want to hear about any good, British-brewed lagers you've encountered.
Those who've been reading since March might remember the reports of my beer hunting trip to Rome. You might also have seen my piece in What's Brewing? about the best bars I visited. Since that time I've kept in touch with the boys leading the charge for Italian artisanal brewing, and met up with some of them at this year's GBBF.
 Manuele of Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa' (a.k.a. the Football Pub) just emailed me this picture of us with his friend and collaborator Marco. It was taken at the British Guild of Beer Writers reception, on the eve of the festival. I admit, it looks a bit like a beard convention. They told me they'd recently opened another venue across the road from the Football Pub. Bir & Fud is focused entirely on quality Italian beer, rather than imports. It sounds like a great place, and will make that narrow alley in the Trastevere even busier on a Friday night.
I'm pleased to see the Italian scene is really taking off. If you find yourself in Rome (and remember, all roads lead there), make sure you don't miss out.
Information:
- Bir & Fud is at Via Benedetta 23, Zona Trastevere, Roma (Tel: +39 06 589 4016). If you've been, please share your experience.
- You can read the full story of my trip to Rome starting here. There are some good memories there - and I'll be back soon.
Drinking in London can be fiendishly expensive - even if you stick to beer.
 I think it's time to name and shame the places that are deliberately trying to inflate prices. There's no point in promoting good beer if most people get priced out of the market. I normally only write about beers and places I've enjoyed, but enough is enough. Yes, quality produce should be priced accordingly, but some greedy bar owners are taking things too far.
The ever-unfriendly Brew Wharf at Borough Market ( pictured right) tops the list for me. Have a look at their beer menu here. £1.70 for a half pint of the ropey house brew is bad enough, but £12.50 for a 75cl bottle of Meantime Porter is pure comedy. They're having a laugh - make sure it's not at your expense.
If you've been shocked by the price of a beer, let us know where it was so we can all avoid getting stung.
 I was only going to have one beer this week. So I went back to basics.
I've mentioned before that my love of beer really took hold when I lived in Prague. I discovered quality lager brewing, and I was hooked. Here in Britain, we don't get much of that. Local brewers try, and usually fail. Those lagers that are genuine imports don't taste the same when served with too much CO2 and little or no head. A miserable state of affairs. It was always the dark lagers that grabbed me in Prague. So for my one beer of the week, that's what I chose. Bohemia Regent Tmavý Ležák was new to me. Dark brown, turning to garnet when held to the light. An off-white head that clung on relentlessly to the bottom of the glass. A sweet, malty aroma with fruit and a little toffee. Creamy in the mouth. Gentle brown sugar and coffee flavours. Starts sweet but finishes dry, with subtle bitterness. Beautiful. Just what I was looking for. In case you're wondering why there's so little beer for me this week, here's the story. Last weekend was a heavy one, so I was gasping for a few days of clean living. On top of that, I've got a mate's wedding on Saturday, at which I'll be doing the best man bit. The reception will be no great shakes on the beer front, but there'll be quality vino and bubbly. I'll always choose fine wine over mediocre beer. Does that make me a bad person?. Information: Bohemia Regent of Trebon are online here. I read in the Morning Advertiser last month that JW Lees, the Manchester brewer, have signed a 10 year distribution agreement with the company. Lees are selling draught Regent pale lager in all of their pubs to the free trade. Let's hope pubs manage to handle and serve it properly.
 As you'll be aware Michael Jackson the Beer Hunter passed away in August.
Nowhere was Michael's work more appreciated than in the USA, a country that was almost bereft of quality beer when he started writing. Today, it has a thriving brewing scene from coast to coast. His work was a major contributing factor to that revival. A national toast in venues across America has been organised on the evening of Sunday 30th September to remember him. I'd urge readers across the Atlantic to get involved. Canadian Alan McLeod has suggested on A Good Beer Blog that here should international dimension to this. Certainly, Michael should be remembered here in London, which was his home toward the end of his life. .
So thanks to John Bratley for letting me know that there'll be a toast at 8pm on 30th September at The Wenlock Arms (26 Wenlock Road, N1 7TA, map). They're hoping to have a special commemorative beer on offer. The Wenlock is currently leading in our poll for London's best pub. It's been announced in the Morning Advertiser that there'll be also be an event at The White Horse (1-3 Parson's Green, SW6 4UL) at 9pm on the 30th.
 Last month I asked you to help me find London's best pub. In the discussion that ensued, a handful of familiar names cropped up time and time again. Some interesting things emerged:
- Three of the top six pubs are within a few minutes walk of each other in Borough.
- Relative newcomer The Rake is clearly a hit with beer lovers, despite its tiny size and modern design.
- The White Horse in Parson's Green, home of the beer cognoscenti, got just two mentions.
- A number of Sam Smith's houses have their devotees among readers, despite many not even offering cask ale. The plucky Yorkshire brewer gets a lot of love in the capital thanks to its historic pubs and rock bottom prices.
- The Jerusalem Tavern did remarkably well, even though there's a risk of seeing me in there.
- The Bricklayer's Arms, CAMRA's Greater London Pub of the Year, just failed to make the cut, but a nominee for the national award, The Pembury Tavern, got through.
I've picked out the top six and set up a poll, which you can see on the sidebar to the left (if it isn't there, try hitting refresh and wait a moment). It's just a bit of fun, but I'll be interested to see the result.
Get voting! "Duke's son or cook's son, master or man, in the inn or the tavern all men are equal. For centuries this has been the place where citizens have met to exchange views and news; the very school of democracy!"
 Do "house rules" in pubs add character, or just cause annoyance? Check out this one from The Swan Tavern by Leadenhall Market in the City:
"Customers are requested to be suitably dressed. We regret site clothing, jeans & trainers are not permitted in this establishment".
For a moment, I felt like I'd been transported far away, to a provincial nightclub guarded by murderous bouncers. Last time I checked, jeans and trainers weren't the cause of much upset. Looking at the customers which spilled from the narrow bar room into the alleyway, the message seemed to have got through. There was plenty of pinstripe stretched over overfed rears, but no-one under 40 and not a single woman. It seems that unless you're a fat, middle-aged man in a suit, you're pretty much barred.
It set me thinking about the other daft rules I've encountered as I've trawled through the nation's pubs. Strict "no mobile phone" diktats aren't uncommon. A barman reduced an ex-girlfriend of mine to tears once in The French House, Soho, when her phone rang. I haven't visited the place since (although I've been shot of her for years now, so maybe it's safe to go back in). There's a pub in Cambridge that doesn't just ban the wearing of football shirts - even talking about football can get you kicked out.
If you've encountered any ridiculous pub rules, let's hear them.
 UPDATE 12/09/07: A few of you have answered the call in comments below. Thanks muchly to Rob who pointed to this sign outside of The Albion in Chester:
"NO chips, fry-ups, silly foil portions, UHT and designer drinks. NO children, plastic, playground, music, machines, big screens. PLENTY good food, wines, real ale, atmosphere. FAMILY HOSTILE." Phew. I think we're meant to be impressed . . . In all honesty, I used to be sceptical about children in pubs, but that's easy to say when you haven't got your own brood. Conversations with beer writer and proud father Ron Pattinson have helped to change my view. Perhaps if children were welcomed in pubs, they'd show them a bit more respect when they reach their late teens. Yes, "family fun pubs" fill me with horror - but then who wants to visit such places anyway? As long as traditional pubs continue to cater primarily for adults, I don't see the problem with letting kids in.
  Considering the city's size, good bottled beer can be thin on the ground in London. That's why I was so excited when Quaffs opened in Spitalfields recently.
Another bottle shop worthy of note is Kris Wines at 394 York Way (N7 9LW, Tel: 020 7607 4871, map). You can get an idea of the selection by clicking on the photo to the right. There's a good selection of old favourites, as well as many rarer items from Britain, Belgium and elsewhere. Although it's a little out of the way, this is a real find for North Londoners.
Thanks to Mes and Sim for the gen and the photos, originally posted by them on the Ratebeer forums and reproduced here with their kind permission.
 Here's the final instalment of the Real Ale Twats.
This time the casketeers set out to investigate the new Wetherspoons that's opened in their town. Tabloid favourite Abu Hamza makes an appearance.
Spoons pubs get a lot of love from CAMRA. They often offer decent real ale from local micros. On the other hand, most of them are drinking barns full of old piss-soaked alkies and fruit machines. Wetherspoons pubs are always heavily branded, but managers are given a discretion which can make all the difference on the beer front. In my experience, The Crosse Keys by Monument in the City and The Metropolitan above Baker Street tube often have great ales on.
[Read #1 here]
[Read #2 here]
 This month's theme for The Session, chosen by Rick Lyke, is Brew Zoo. Beer bloggers around the world are writing about beers with images of animal life on the label.
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Wildlife has always provided inspiration for those producing beer. Just look at London's major brewers, both past and present. Fullers is the last man standing, represented by the mythical griffin. Young's, which moved to Bedford last year, has the ram as it's emblem. You can still see stag logos on old Watney's signs, black eagles for Truman's and cockerels for Courage. In fact, Ron Pattinson's favourite Barclay Perkins seem to have been one of the few not to get in on the act. The tradition continues with London's newest brewpubs, The Cock and Hen and The Florence. I wrote about them a few months ago, when they first opened. The beers there are named after strangely ignoble beasts - the naughty Bonobo chimp and the scampering Weasel. . To read other articles written for The Session, visit the round-up at Lyke2Drink. Me, I'm off to the Jerusalem to get rowdy.
 No beer festival is complete without a dose of fermented apples. When we were at the Eddyfest in Suffolk two weeks ago, landlord Tom Norton drove us to his family home, Castlings Heath Cottage in Groton, to see their cider press.
 To produce the dry Original, the most traditional method is used. No water or sugar is added to the pressed apples. Fermentation occurs due to the wild yeast naturally present on the skins. This is the real deal. While we were there, Norton Sr. drew off a few samples for us. It was 7 or 8% abv and dry as a bone, with tart, acidic qualities reminiscent of both white wine and the sour lambic beers of Belgium. The next day we had a few pints of it in the pub, to kick off our second night at the festival.
On the subject of cider, C&C, the company that conned millions of dunderheads into drinking Magners over ice, were forced to issue profit warnings this summer. Poor weather was blamed for a 45% drop in sales this July compared to the same month last year. It's nice to see an ad campaign backfire so disasterously. Then there's the success of S&N's cheaper, but near identical, Bulmers brand. Both products are disgusting, industrial concoctions produced from apple concentrate. Yet, if I were to slap those who drink them around the face, I'd be in the wrong. There's something very wrong about that.
Some people query why traditional cider is supported by CAMRA and the real ale fraternity generally. After all, beer and cider are very different. The answer is probably as simple as this: both entail traditional methods of production, in a market dominated by processed nonsense backed by expensive ad campaigns. If anything, the gap between mass-market and traditional cider is greater than that between industrial beers and real ales.
When you look at it that way, those who love real ale and real cider need to stick together.
Information:
- Castlings Heath ciders turn up at beer festivals from time to time, but usually are only available at locally and at The White Horse in Edwardstone, nr. Sudbury, Suffolk (CO10 5PX, Tel: 01787 211211, website, map).
- You can read more about Magners producer C&C's woes here. It's an old story, but still worth celebrating.
Henley-upon-Thames is normally associated with wannabe sloane rangers, bellowing at blokes in unstable rowing boats. Someone's added a microbrewery into the mix. Using the name of a defunct firm of Greenwich family brewers, Jeff Rosenmeier set up Lovibonds two years ago. He produces a bitter, a wheat beer and a porter, all unpasteurised and unfiltered. There's a clue to Rosenmeier's American origins on every bottle - "craft brewed" is featured prominently, an expression that means little in the US and nothing in Britain (let's keep it that way, please).
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 Henley Gold - a wheat beer
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A pour vigorous pour is rewarded with a tall white head of fat bubbles. There's a surprisingly malty aroma, with some banana. The body is medium-light. I detected sour apple notes throughout, giving the beer a distinctive presence on the palate. The carbonation's lovely, but they could work on the head retention if they want this to tick all the boxes for a German-style weissbier. Perhaps it could benefit from a spicier edge, but this is one of the better English wheat beers I've had.
. Henley Dark - a porterA smooth tan head billowed upwards from the beer. The gorgeous burnt coffee aroma combined with dark fruit promised good things. Those flavours were present on the palate, with bitterness from beginning to end. A hint of cream emerged as it slipped down the hatch. The finish is mellow with just a little smoke. My encounter with Henley Dark became cosier as I drained the glass. A shame, then, that you only get 33cl in a bottle. I'd have called this a stout rather than a porter, but frankly who cares?
. Information: - Lovibonds is online here.
- Surf4Wine are the exclusive distributors of Lovibonds bottled beers. They're offering a 10% discount throughout September on all of their English beers, including the Lovibonds duo. You can browse the selection here - use promotional code ENGBEER at the checkout.
 Back by popular demand, it's the Real Ale Twats from Viz.
You'll notice the Twats are drinking bottled samples of draught beer at the beginning of the story. Apparently, it's a not uncommon practice among the "ticking" fraternity to surreptitiously bottle measures from pubs and festivals for later consumption. Strange behaviour if you ask me, but to each their own.
 Later in the tale you can't help but sympathise with them. Who hasn't been served a pricey, watered-down pint of fizzy in a Soho clip joint? Just don't believe anything the girls tell you at the door. It's Big Alvin downstairs who calls the shots. My mate Charlie knows what I'm on about.
The expression "beer from the wood" comes into play. If you want to know what that's all about, check out the Society for Preservation of Beers from the Wood ("SPBW"), an organisation similar to CAMRA, except that nobody's heard of them. If you want to drink beer from the wood, you don't need to annoy a barman in a strip club - Sam Smith's still use oak barrels for all their cask ale (pictured left).
Thanks again to Gazza Prescott for the scans.
[Read #1 here]
[Read #3 here]
 A 13th century hall sitting amongst a cluster of trees, across summer fields of green and gold. That was our first view of St Peter's Hall. A winding road lined with tall hedges had led us here from Bungay, itself home to a ruined castle and a tiny pub brewery. The weather was perfect, the air still.
 Approaching the Hall, we spotted a lazy black swan gliding across the murky waters of a moat. As we turned into the yard, thatched outbuildings housing the renowned St Peter's Brewery came into view. It was barely noon on a Sunday, and the Hall had just opened for the day. We'd come to see where they craft the beer we drink at The Jerusalem Tavern. John Murphy set up the brewery in 1996, ending three decades of slumber and dereliction for these beautiful buildings. St Peter's is now one of the area's key attractions, receiving visitors every day. The Hall houses an opulent restaurant and bar, complete with hanging tapestries and antique furniture. Up a narrow, crooked staircase are squat function rooms and one of the smallest chapels I've ever seen. The visitor's centre and shop are across the yard, alongside the brewery itself. .  Between the east wall and the moat there's a well-tended lawn, dotted with little cast iron tables and chairs. We noticed these were identical to those that sit outside of the Jerusalem in Britton Street, Clerkenwell. It was a welcome a reminder of a familiar place that seemed a world away until that moment. The Jerusalem is the only pub owned by the brewery, many miles away in the heart of London.  Two years ago Murphy considered selling up. He then changed his mind, and announced ambitious expansion plans. Soon, the brewing equipment will move to a new site within a few miles of the Hall. We were told by one of the staff that this would likely be in Bungay or thereabouts, and certainly wouldn't be in "the sticks", as he put it. Apparently the tiny market town we'd just passed through counts as the big smoke in these parts.  Beer has brought me to some of the most beautiful places in Britain. Traditional brewing is woven into the fabric of this country, but it's more than just history. At St Peter's, beer has brought life back to a home that began its journey through time in the reign of Edward I, but had fallen into disuse. 727 years later, it's a busy, thriving place once more. Even when the brewery moves away the restaurant and bar will bring people back every single day. St Peter's Hall is without doubt the most beautiful, memorable place I've ever enjoyed a pint. Clutching a cool glass of mild ale, sitting with friends by ancient masonry and still water, I felt very lucky indeed. The swan seemed happy too. . Information:
. St. Peter’s Hall is in St. Peter South Elmham, near Bungay, Suffolk (NR35 1NQ, Tel: 01986 782322, website, map). The restaurant is fairly formal and it's best to make a reservation. Bar snacks are served in the library bar next door. Three St Peter's cask beers (Organic, Golden and Mild on our visit) and a full range of their bottles are available. Sadly they don't offer brewery tours for the normal health and safety reasons.
 When you're a beer fanatic, you have to laugh at yourself. Everyone else does, so why not join in?
. Viz, the popular adult comic, ran a strip some years ago ripping it out of "Real Ale Twats". Click on the image to the right to see their debut appearance. Some of the jibes are scarily accurate - you might see shades of yourself in there, be warned. . Cheers to Gazza Prescott, the legendary beer scooper, for the scans. He sent me three in total - let me know if you want to see the others I'll post the others in the next few days. .
 Back to business. Last night I tucked into a few litres of Erdinger Dunkel at The Bavarian Beerhouse on City Road. Six of us made it. Things got rowdy: Jon's jacket got soaked in beer, a miscreant crashed round mine, heads hurt today. Debrief beers down in Borough this afternoon are going to be tricky.
The Bavarian opened less than two years ago on City Road. The formula is simple: they bring everything over from Munich in a van, then serve it to Londoners in a basement. Stick around long enough and the place gets very lively, carried along by a fast-flowing river of beer and a steady stream of schnapps. When I first visited in 2006, they hadn't even decorated properly. Now the place is a suitably garish reimagining of a German beer hall, and the experience has improved immeasurably. They're certainly making the most of promotional tat from the big Munich breweries. The owners are about to branch out, with new venues in Southwark and Brighton.
The beer prices aren't too bad, at £6.90 for a litre mug of Erdinger or Paulaner. You can't help feeling diddled by some of the main courses, though. Nevertheless, it's the only German-style beer hall in Central London, and it's a good night out. You can shout out loud without being asked to leave - that's a box ticked for me.
Information: The Bavarian Beerhouse is at 190 City Road, London, EC1V 2QH (Tel: 020 7608 0925, map, website). It gets busy, so you need to book on a Friday or Saturday night. While you're there, check out The Eagle on Shepherdess Walk, just across the road and to the left.
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It seems that Mash, the brewpub in Fitzrovia, is no more. I'd heard on the grapevine that it had ceased trading, and a visit today seemed to confirm that. The premises were locked and totally empty on a Saturday afternoon. Of course it could reopen, but its demise has been on the cards for a while.
