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 Here are the results of the last poll. Thanks to everyone who voted.
Do you prefer your cask ale served through a sparkler?
Yes, always. 10 votes (5%)
Yes, but only for Northern beers. 18 votes (10%)
Yes, but only for very bitter beers. 5 votes (2%)
Never. Sparklers be damned. 94 votes (54%)
Don't know, don't care. 46 votes (26%)
That's a damning verdict for the plastic beer-interferers.
On the subject of messing about with beer, Greene King launched a new cask ale last week. Here's an extract from the press release for St Edmunds:
"Using groundbreaking technology, cask supremos at Greene King have developed a unique beer engine that will allow people to choose how their pint of St Edmunds is served . . . St Edmunds will also bring contemporary theatre to cask ale as it’s served at bar level so drinkers can see it being poured with their choice of head. We’re so proud of this beer we wanted the nation to enjoy it’s spectacle before enjoying its tremendous taste.”
 Knut Albert, a Norwegian with a nearly-rude name, writes a very good website. He frequently travels across Europe in search of our continent's finest beer. Because Norway obstinately resists the munificent embrace of the EU, he must get a lot of stamps in his passport.
As you know, I've got a special interest in Italian artisanal brewing. Combining my trips to that wonderful country with some quality beer hunting is an absolute joy. That's why I was so pleased to read about Knut's jaunt to Milan and the places he discovered there: Isola della Birra, a bar (pictured right), and A Tutta Birra, a beer shop.
Just click the links to visit his blog and share in the gen.
UPDATE 05/11/07: Knut has posted about another Milanese beer spot, Birrificio Lambrate. Sadly, the city seems to have garnered only a handful of votes in our poll to determine where the beer hunters are going next.
Chadders and Dryz, two of the lads who accompanied me to Rome earlier in the month, are up for another beer tour. They missed out on Prague, and want to schedule another long weekend on the hoy. Doubtless other beer tourists will be up for it too.
Now, we're useless at deciding anything between us. We don't really like each other, after all. So we've decided that you, the readers of Stonch's Beer Blog, should tell us where to go.
Leave a comment on this post with your proposed destinations. Once we've got a few suggestions in the mix, I'll assemble a shortlist and throw it open to a poll. Once the results are in, we'll get the flights booked. As this will only be a short trip, it's going to have to be somewhere in Europe (although there is a brewpub in Micronesia I'd like to check out one day).
I expect we'll live to regret this, but never mind.
 It's time to let the dust settle. The long weekend in Prague is over. I've now added photos and footnotes to each of the ten posts I sent your way as we staggered through the city - just scroll down to view them. I trust you'll forgive me if I abstain from beer for a couple of days.
We visited six of the city's seven commercial breweries: U Fleku, U Medvídků, Klásterní Pivovar Strahov, Pivovarský Dům, Staropramen and Novoměstský Pivovar. We saw both traditional and ultra-modern brew plants in operation, and on very different scales. The one that got away, Pivovar U Bulovky, will have to wait for a future visit. We also looked in at Pražský most u Valšů in the Old Town, where they're going to start making beer in just a few weeks time. After a slow start, microbrewing is gathering pace in Prague.
Our experience at the country's smallest brewery, U Medvídků, was the most memorable. There, we were able to chat to the brewer as the wort was boiled and cooled, all the while knocking back mugs of his fantastic beer. Singing along with a bunch of pissed Germans in U Fleku to the sound of an oompah-oompah band playing Yellow Submarine takes some beating, too.
An interest in beer can take you to wonderful places. Since starting this blog in January, it's taken me to Rome, Franconia and of course Prague. Where to for the next trip, I wonder?
We're now at the airport, in the revamped Pilsner Urquell bar. On the plus side, they're serving unpasteurised tank beer. On the other hand, it's the most expensive beer I've ever paid for in the country - 135 Kc, almost £3.50 in real money. Crackers. There's a Class A twat smoking a cigar next to us. I find public cigar smoking about as antisocial as taking a dump in an old lady's hand bag. Private cigar smoking, on the other hand, is just a bit sad.
 Yesterday we visited our sixth and final brewery of the trip. Novoměstský Pivovar is an unwelcoming joint in a shopping arcade where they pull faces if you just want a beer, and turn away groups without reservations when the place is half empty. The lack of natural light and naff faux-Bohemian styling mean it isn't somewhere you'd want to linger anyway. The mild and pleasant light beer is an easy drinker, but does it need to be quite that cloudy? The dark beer had a whiff of rotten egg and tasted a bit like flat Panda Cola.
After that we moved back to Pivovarský Dům. You'll recall I hardly raved about in on Friday. As it's one of the only places in town offering a range of more adventurous brews, we gave it another chance. I'm glad we did. Sitting next to a charming American couple - who were lovely company but kept hinting at political views that would make David Duke blush - we worked our way through the full range. Despite seemingly odd flavours like banana and nettle, they were all a joy. Forsooth, even the chili beer was drinkable. The food isn't bad too and the prices are aimed at Czechs, not tourists. Perhaps we enjoyed it so much more because we were quartered in the non-smoking front room, right next to the open fermenters, which sit behind a glass screen.
Afterward we resolved to treat ourselves to a truly authentic, nasty Prague pub. Branická Formanka is a pub I've passed countless times near Wenceslas Square. It's always looked pretty grim. Branik is a Prague beer that shifts huge volumes in bottles, but is rarely seen on draught. The brewery was purchased by InBev, who closed it earlier this year. It's now brewed alongside Staropramen in Smichov. We stood in the tiny tap room, alongside underage drinkers mixed with old alkies. A fella in overalls angrily switched an old TV from channel to channel, perhaps searching for naked ladies. The air was thick with smoke.
Our plane leaves in an hour. I'll add photos to these ten posts when the haze has cleared. Photos have now been added.
Information:
- Novoměstský Pivovar is at Vodičkova 20 in Prague 1 (website).
- Branická Formanka is just a few doors down at Vodičkova 26. You can get a half litre of Branik in there for less than 20Kc, very cheap indeed for central Prague. There's a larger restaurant next door, but go for the adjacent tap room for the real comedy. Just don't expect to breathe.
 We're sitting in the visitor centre of the Staropramen brewery. In my experience industrial scale brewing rarely produces great beer, but it's always interesting to see how it's done. The tour guide is an entertaining chap, a Czech who grew up in Switzerland then learned English in South Africa. He clearly enjoys his job, even if it does entail singing from the InBev songbook.
 The tour commenced with the obligatory video of bottles flying along production lines, a whirl of statistics voiced by an earnest American and a throbbing dance track. Afterward our guide took us into the old brewhouse, which is only used once a year to keep it functional. Through glass we viewed the mammoth mash tun used today (pictured below left), eleven metres in diameter. The new fermentation tanks - which replaced open fermenters in 2004 - are outside in the yard (pictured right). Of an annual output of three million hectolitres, only 20 per cent is exported (much of that to the UK).
 At the end we tasted the light and amber versions of Staropramen, served ice cold. The guide was apologetic - according to him, Czech beer should be served at 10°c. That's only one degree less than the lower limit usually observed for British real ale. Neither brew is up to much, and in any case we can buy them in London without difficulty.
Interestingly, much was made of the size of the InBev empire during the tour. Stella Artois, Bellevue Kriek, Brahma and Hoegaarden logos were everywhere. Without doubt, Staropramen is a brewery that retains virtually none of the traditions that made Czech beer world famous. Alongside the revived microbrewing traditions we've observed during the trip, it's a sorry state of affairs here in Smichov.
Information:
Pivovary Staropramen is at Nádražní 84 in Prague 5. The visitor's centre has it's own website, with details of how to get on a tour.
 A sleeping tramp, standing up with his hands in his pockets, leaning face first on a bar. That's the sight (pictured right) that greeted us when we decided to grab a quick bite to eat at a grim fast food stand by Narodni Trida station. After smashing two smažený sýr (a fried cheese sandwich with tartare sauce), we boarded a tram, hoping to find the Bulovksy brewpub in the Liben area of Prague. We soon discovered we'd gone the wrong way, alighted and abandoned the venture. No more breweries today, then.
 We're now sitting in Kolkovna, a smart Pilsner Urquell bar and restaurant in the Old Town. Walking in I was pleased to spot a pump dedicated to a new amber beer from SABMiller. It's an attempt at emulating the craft brews from the growing number of micros springing up in Bohemia, and is broadly speaking in the Vienna style.
I'd like to jauntily say this isn't half bad, but sadly that isn't possible. Master Polotmavý 13° (pictured left) is easily the least impressive beer we've tasted this weekend so far, carrying off the wooden spoon with aplomb. It's sickly sweet with no discernible flavour other than watery caramel. There's no finish - it just slips down without saying goodbye. Hopeless.
Thankfully this is a tankova pub, where unpasteurised Pilsner Urquell is sold. The next beer should make amends for the sins of its younger brother.
Information:
Kolkovna is at V Kolkovně 8, Prague 1 (website). It's five minutes walk from Old Town Square. It does tend to get very busy, particuarly on Friday and Saturday evenings, when bookings are essential. The restaurant is part of a group which includes Olympia, an old lunchtime haunt of mine. For the best Pilsner Urquell and modern yet unfussy Czech food, they're great.
 There are places that always fail to ingratiate themselves to you. Pivovarský Dům in Prague falls squarely into that category for me. Every time I've come here, I've felt happiest when the door has closed behind me. From the uninspiring exterior to the iffy service, there's plenty to whinge about. However, let's not get carried away. In this place, one of Prague's older brewpubs, they produce unusual and interesting beers and serve them up in prime condition.
I'm there now. My dark lager is firm bodied with bags of caramel and a lingering coffee aftertaste. Dave's "Kavove" is an actual coffee beer - they've even set a bean afloat on top, which he discovered when swigging away.
There's a child screaming away behind us with the encouragment of his doting mother. I think we'll leave after these drinks.
Information:
Pivovarský Dům is at Ječná/Lípová 15, Prague 1 (website). It's situated in an unappealing part of the New Town, but don't get discouraged - it isn't too much of a shlep from the centre, even on foot.
 After finishing up at Strahov, we were almost immediately thrown off course by a sign advertising Bernard beers.
Leaving the main courtyard of the monastery, we followed a trail of sandwich boards to a restaurant built into the side of Petrin Hill. The views across to the Gothic mass of St. Vitus cathedral and down to the Vltava below were breathtaking. Inside, the place was devoid of any natural light, with candles illuminating high vaulted ceilings of bare brick. I'm ashamed to say I've forgotten the name of the place - Google will be my friend later. Our pints of Bernard Dark (pictured right) were phenomenal. A sour edge drew comparisons with U Fleku's house brew from both of us. I've tried this on draught only once before, at the GBBF in August, but it wasn't this diverting.
 Afterwards we walked through the autumnal trees of Petrin, winding our way down on little used paths to the the foot of the hill. There we jumped on a tram to Smichov, and the Staropramen brewery. We're in the very brash and modern brewery tap now. The floor is yellow, the bar is shiny. The flat screen TVs are showing Natasha Bedingfield. I thinks she's fit, Dave doesn't. They're calling the place "Staropramen Koncept".
 There's a loud, drunken Dutchman who is telling the cowering staff that Staropramen is to him what Rome is to a Catholic or Mecca to a Muslim. He's obviously fairly clueless. Staropramen is part of the InBev empire, evidenced by the Hoegaarden, Leffe and (horror of horrors) Wifebeater Stella on sale alongside the brewery's own.
The draw here is the Kvasnicove Pivo (pictured right). It's unfiltered lager, presumably served fresh. In the fat little handle mug it's cloudy and a surprisingly dark amber. To my knowledge you can only buy it here. It's good stuff, comparing very well to the microbrews we've enjoyed over the last 24 hours. It isn't very complex, but is pleasantly hopped and nicely carbonated. Big brewers can do good beers. Most of the time, they just choose not to.
We might try and get on a brewery tour now. Or maybe not. One industrial beer factory looks much like another, after all.
Information:
Pivovary Staropramen is at Nádražní 84 in Prague 5, and is online here. If you're in Smichov, you really can't miss it. a short walk from Andel tube and a stone's throw from the river. You can see the brewery's massive chimney as you approach. The "Koncept" bar opens daily at 11am and is open all day.
 The Malastrana is my favourite part of Prague. The characteristic hodge-podge of architectural styles that prevails in the rest of the city gives way to an elegant, baroque uniformity. In between the main thoroughfares there are winding lanes and courtyards where the wealthy and powerful have lived for centuries.
The Strahov monastery is possessed of one of the most famous and beautiful libraries in Europe. More importantly for us, they've allowed a commercial brewery - Klásterní Pivovar Strahov - to set up shop within their precincts. To my knowledge the monks have precisely nothing to do with the brewing process, but the beers here are named for St. Norbert nonetheless. The brew kettles are display in the main bar, but aren't in use as we sit here drinking the beer. No smell of malt and hops excites the nose, but other senses are engaged by the tight bodied barmaid that brings us the beer and seems determined to find amusement in every thing we do.
 I said in my post on Tuesday that St. Norbert Dark was the best Czech beer I've tasted. I'm not sure I hold with that now, but it's still bloody good. Very dark brown and far more bitter than you'd expect, it's more like a Franconian dunkel than something typical of Bohemia. At 5.5 % abv it's stronger than the norm, too. It's amber stablemate is a lot sweeter, slipping down easily with a drier finish. Note that the beer here is very pricey for Prague, at 59 Kc for 0.4l. That's about twice the norm. It's worth it, though.
After finishing up here we're going to get the tram to the grittier area of Smichov, down the river from gentile Malastrana. The huge Staropramen brewery awaits. For us, it's time to suckle at the teat of multinational madness. It had better be cheap in the beer hall there, that's all I'm saying for now.
Information:
Klásterní Pivovar Strahov is at Strahovské nádvoří 301, Prague 1 (website). Get your grappling hooks ready and scale the Malastrana to reach it. There are some wonderful views along the way.
 Three hours sleep and about 12 beers made for two very weary chaps. Stonch and Goon retired to their bed chamber quite early last night. Maybe we're getting old.
After leaving U Medvidku yesterday, where we'd been joined by beer writer Evan Rail, we took the Metro across town to Pivovarský Klub. It's the only truly specialist beer bar in Prague, offering a range of draughts and scores of bottles. We ate there too, slabs of smoked ham served with mashed potatoes and sauerkraut. It was good to try beers from the country's smaller brewers, but nothing to compare with the house brews at U Fleku or U Medvidku passed our lips. We've been spoiled.
Another day, another brewery or four. We're starting with Klasterni Strahov Pivovar, in the the monastery high above the city. Goon's feeling a little peaky but I'm raring to go.
Information:
Pivovarský Klub is at Křižíkova 17 in Prague 8 (website). It's near to the Florenc Metro station. You can read an article by Evan Rail about the pub in the Prague Post.
 We've been in this city four hours, and already we're at brewery number two. Are we selling anyone short? I don't think so.
We're sitting upstairs at U Medvídků, breathing in the aroma of malt and hops. Brewer Ladislav Vesely (pictured left) is currently boiling his latest brew, while we drink the fruits of his previous efforts. We're in the smallest commercial brewery in the Czech Republic. The mash tuns would fit in the cupboard under your granny's stairs.
 Ladislav kindly invited us into his fermentation room, where his beers bubble away in open, wooden vessels (pictured right). Every aspect of the brewing process is as traditional as can be, and he works here every day. The Oldgott Barique certainly is a toothsome splash. It's very dark red with a billowing head, and served straight from the barrel without extraneous carbonation. That's what I like to see. We're big fans and are about to drink a second (and perhaps a third, fourth and fifth). We also tasted the strongest beer in the country a moment ago. X33-Beer is 12.6 % abv thanks to a 33 degree plato wort. It's matured for of six to twelve months in oak barrels. Wow - it tastes nice. Very sweet, wonderfully indulgent. Amber like its weaker stable mate, but infinitely more complex. We like self indulgence. That's why we're here.
Information: U Medvídků is at Na Perštýně 7, Prague 1 (website). The building contains a Budvar bar, a restaurant, a caberet hall, a shop selling beer and breweriana and of course a microbrewery. There's even a guest house.
 At this very moment, U Fleku isn't just one of the best places in Prague. It's one of the best places in the world.
We only had to walk a few hundred yards from our last pub to reach the city's oldest brewery. They've been making beer here since 1499, if the blurb is to believed.
 Inside the beer hall is all dark wood and rafters, with long tables packed all day long. We're sitting next to a group of lads from Dusseldorf. I asked if they were on a stag do. Apparently not - they're just a drinking club who do weekend breaks centred of beer. I salute them. The oompah-oopmah band are playing songs to get the foreigners going - German ditties I vaguely recognise, then for us Brits there's ¡Viva España!
Only one beer is sold here. The house brew is a fantastic dark lager with an aged, vinous character. There's a strong taste of liquorice but also oodles of cherry. We're already on our third glass. This is inadvisable.
There's no doubt U Fleku caters primarily for tourists. By Czech standards it's fiendishly expensive. I've been here about fifteen times before, and every time I've had to fend off waiters brandishing honey trap schnapps, priced like a stripper in a Soho clip joint. This visit has been no exception. But no matter - it's still brilliant here. You must visit.
Information:
U Fleku is at Křemencova 11, Prague 1 (website).
 I'm sitting with Goon in Hospoda U Nováka, a pub just across the road from our digs in the New Town area of Prague. Our first beers have fallen victim to enthusiastic gulps. All is well with the world.
The pub's a high ceilinged affair on an elegant street, just ten minutes walk from the tourist zone yet entirely geared to locals. A traditional ceramic heater provides an attractive focus by the bar.
We steamed straight in and ordered two Gambrinus 12 degree beers, a rare higher gravity version of the nation's favourite beer. This is the first time I've tried it, and I'm impressed. I've never been a fan of the bestselling 10 degree Gambrinus, but this offers tons of bitterness upfront before relaxing into a creamy malt body. No wonder they don't export it.
We'll be finishing up here in a moment and heading to the first of Prague's seven breweries. As promised, we're going to visit them all and report back to you with mobile blog posts. You know how to leave comments - so let's have some words of encouragement!
Information:
Hospoda U Nováka is on V Jirchářích 2 in Prague 1. Draught beers on offer are Gambrinus 12° and Kozel Černý, a dark beer.
My views on sparklers are simple. I detest the demonic little things. Every time I see a small plastic implement fitted to the end of a beer tap, my heart sinks. I then have to go through the rigmarole of asking some puzzled Polish barmaid to unscrew it. You can read all the blog posts in which I've moaned about them here.
 For those who don't know, a sparkler is screwed to the end of the nozzle of beer engine, as shown in the photo to the right. It's perforated with small holes like a shower head. The beer is forced through these into the glass, agitates and aerating it, producing a large head. Bittering agents migrate to the bubbles that form this creamy layer, altering the flavour and mouthfeel of the pint. I suppose that's a good thing for those who want a beer with less bite.
It's often said - sometimes by brewers themselves - that Northern beers are supposed to be dispensed through a sparkler. Sorry, but I'm unconvinced. Surely that relies on the baseless assumption that Northern beers are invariably more bitter than those from the South? And if these brewers really do think their beer is too harsh, why don't they tone it down, and spare the hops?
 A pint from a fresh cask will have a natural head. If you want proof, check out the photo to the left. It's a pint of Timothy Taylor Landlord - a Yorkshire beer - I enjoyed at The Roebuck in Belsize Park, North London. As you can see, despite having fallen victim to an enthusiastic gulp, the beer is still crowned with a white head of rocky bubbles. When real ale is served completely flat, that usually means it's in poor condition. Applying a sparkler would only serve to deceive the customer's eyes, while dumbing down the already impaired flavour.
I've been criticised by a couple of commenters recently for my hard line on sparklers. Well, they've got me bang to rights. If I had my way I'd melt down every sparkler I could find on huge bonfires across Yorkshire, where the benighted natives have fooled themselves into believing their beers benefit from savage treatment. However, I recognise people have different views on the subject, including some who have been drinking ale a lot longer than me. I want to hear what you think. You know the drill - the poll is on the left hand side of the page, and will be open for the next week.
 The New York Times ran a piece today about cask beer in the USA. It was written by drinks journalist Eric Asimov, and you can read it online here. It's a great article, and every beer lover should read it. Here's my favourite line:
"If mass-market kegs are the Wonder bread and Velveeta of the beer world, cask ales are like fresh-baked loaves or artisanal cheeses, with the potential to be glorious but risky all the same." As a cask ale enthusiast I'm keen to have my fears about the American craft beer scene dispelled. I've worried that there's insufficient understanding of why live, natural beer is best, with filtering and artificial carbonation seen as the norm. The responses I received to my post on the subject last week suggested there are cask devotees across the USA too. Eric's article reinforces that. Great stuff. . PS. I had to google "Velveeta". In case you're wondering, it's a brand of processed cheese.
As readers of the Dandy will know, Jocks and Geordies never give up without a fight. S&N is no exception. Last week, we learned that Carlsberg and Heineken were preparing to swoop on Britain's largest brewer and dismember it. Since then, the plot has thickened.
First off, it was reported that Carlsberg would have to finance its part of the purchase price by issuing almost £3bn of new equity. This led to a significant fall in the value of the Danish company's shares, as existing shareholders feared dilution of their rights. A correction in S&N's share price followed, indicating that the market had doubts about the acquisition.
From the offset S&N had made it clear they would resist any takeover bid, describing the plans as "unsolicited and unwelcome". Defence strategies were expected to centre around the Russian joint venture they co-own with Carlsberg, Baltic Beverages Holding. Outright ownership of BBH is a key goal for the Danes. At first it was reported that S&N were to offer to sell their stake in order to ward off a hostile takeover. Instead, they're taking a more aggressive approach, claiming that confidential provisions of the BBH joint venture agreement have been triggered, which will force Carlsberg to sell its 50% share. Carlsberg vehemently denied this in a statement yesterday, setting the companies up for a protracted legal battle.
This is getting interesting. Neither S&N, Carlsberg nor Heineken make any decent beer to speak of. Nevertheless, this is massive news for the global brewing industry, overshadowing the Miller/Coors joint venture announced earlier in the month. I'll keep you up to date.
Sources: The Financial Times, The Scotsman, The Press Association, Reuters, S&N website.
 We'd all agree that Prague is one of Europe's most beautiful cities. It doesn't have a 1000 ft tower of puddled iron girders. The legislature doesn't sit in an overweening Gothic horror by the river. At its heart you won't find crumbling classical ruins. However, to me, it's the most lovely by far.
Regular readers will know I lived in the city four years ago, and it's where my passion for beer gained wings. On Friday I'm returning again, exactly a year since I last visited. Dave, my erstwhile homebrew buddy and tap man at The Jerusalem Tavern, is coming too. The weather forecast isn't looking too damning for this time of year, but we'll be ensconced in the city's pubs most of the time anyway.
To kick things off on Friday night, we're meeting with Evan Rail, journalist and author of the Good Beer Guide: Prague and the Czech Republic at Pivovarsky Klub. It's a specialist bar serving up draught beer from the relatively few Czech independent breweries and micros that exist today.
 On Saturday and Sunday, we'll aim to visit all of the breweries currently active in Prague. I'm aware of seven, ranging from the massive Staropramen complex in Smichov to the tiny plant above the U Medvidku beer hall. I'm particularly looking forward to revisiting Klásterní Pivovar Strahov, within the precincts of a monastery high above the city. They brew the best Czech dark lager I've tasted (pictured right).
. Along the way we'll stop in at some of my favourite pubs, including the sublime U Cerneho Vola. The Pilsner Urquell tankovna pubs, where unpasteurised beer direct from the brewery is dispensed from huge vessels, will also feature. Of course, beer isn't everything - the city's bars and clubs have other attractions too. .Expect to see short and snappy mobile blog posts to flow thick and fast as soon as we sally forth. At each pub and brewery there'll be real time pub reviews and half-arsed tasting notes from Stonch and Goon.
 Hop shortage, hop shortage, hop shortage. You'll have heard a lot about that recently. Brewers across the world are tearing their hair out. If things get really desperate, remember that hops aren't the only additive you can use to add bitterness and flavour to ales. What about spruce?
The buds, needles and sap from spruce trees have long been used in ale, particularly in the further reaches of the Northern Hemisphere, where hops are scarce. They were brewing spruce ale on the HMS Resolution during Cook's second, southerly voyage. There's ample documentary evidence that it was popular across Britain in Georgian times. Heather Ales Alba, from the Williams Brothers in Alloa, Scotland is a modern example. At 7.5% abv it's a beast of a brew, a hearty backdrop for an interesting experiment. I first tried it a few months ago, and was impressed by the strong, resinous flavours and the funky complexity. If you're a fan of pine flavours in beer, you should enjoy this. You can pick it up from specialist beer shops or from Oddbins. Perhaps those who fear for their Double IPAs could brew a Double Imperial Spruce Ale instead? They might struggle to cram a whole tree in the mash tun, though.
 Here's a charming picture of me chugging Noël Baladin from the bottle at Rome Ciampino airport. It's a 9% abv seasonal beer from a small town in Piedmont, 60km from Turin.
Having already checked in, and late for our plane, I remembered you aren't allowed to take liquids through security. We had just a few moments to polish off 75 cl of precious artisanal beer.
How did it taste? Well, the aroma didn't reach my nose - that's what happens when you drink from the bottle. Having been thoroughly agitated in my bag, it rocketed up into my mouth and almost shot out of my nose. Strong, warm beer with yeast in suspension. Lovely.
Dr. Robbles (pictured on the left) was about to give his own expert opinion when a guard insisted I throw it in the bin. Apparently it just isn't cricket to drink alcohol when passing through airport security. Because he was carrying a gun (like all authority figures in Italy), I complied.
That's how not to do a beer tasting.
Information:
Birrificio Baladin is in Piozzo in the Province of Cuneo, Piedmont. The brewpub's webpage contains no information about the beers. If you can read Italian, MondoBirra.org is rather more helpful.
It was announced earlier this month that SABMiller and Molson Coors are to combine their operations in the USA. The plan is to merge their American subsidiaries, Miller and Coors, into a new company under joint ownership (58% to SABMiller, 42% to Molson Coors, with voting rights split 50-50).
A few online sources initially talked about this as if it were a merger between the parents. However, the press release issued by SABMiller on 9th October was perfectly clear: this is simply a joint venture between two multinationals in one country only. Even if you couldn't be bothered to read it, the title gave the game away ("SABMiller and Molson Coors to combine U.S. operations in joint venture"). Moreover, if you read the fine print, there's even a standstill agreement whereby each agrees not to make a hostile bid for the other for a period of 10 years.
Nevertheless, take a look at this article in the New York Times. In the opening sentence it talks about "the proposed merger of SABMiller and Molson Coors into MillerCoors". I'd be less surprised - but still disappointed- if a lazy hack had been responsible for this massive error. But no - one of the most respected figures in US brewing industry penned it.
Repeat after me: SABMiller and Molson Coors are NOT merging.
-A copy of "The Intelligent Choice: the true state of the market for cask ale in 2007" arrived through my letterbox this morning. An online version is available here. The report was prepared by beer writer and fellow blogger Pete Brown and published by CAMRA together with various industry bodies.
 Pete points out that the headlines about the decline of real ale cask are misleading. First off, the market shows signs of finally turning the corner. Secondly, the decline has been restricted to that part of the market controlled by the "big four" multinationals. Yes, they've steadily withdrawn support from old brands like Boddington's and John Smith's, but were those beers so hot in the first place? Taken as a whole the regional, independent and micro sector is showing steady annual growth of roughly 7.5%. Since 2000, it's grown from 1.2 million barrels a year to 1.7 million for 2007.
To me, this report makes for cheery reading. Production of the beers I do want to drink from brewers worthy of support is increasing. Real ale is sold in 40% of British pubs, and accounts for 11% of total on-sales. Well done to Pete for reminding us that quality shines through.
PS. While we're talking about growth in the independent and micro brewery sector, I'd like to point out a new feature on this site. Thanks to an RSS feed from Quaffale, you can keep track of new cask ale breweries that have opened (see "New British Breweries" on the left hand column). As you can see, in October alone five have been added. If any are local to you, why not get in touch and find out where you can try their beers?
We've all faced it before - the pub equivalent of Sophie's Choice. An impatient barmaid takes the place of a concentration camp guard as you scramble to choose between a wretched selection of beery also-rans. God knows why you're in this god forsaken place, but it's time to make the best of a bad situation. What'll it be, then? A crap, fizzy lager from an austere, anonymous factory? Go for the strong one with the foreign name, it's reassuringly expensive. Or perhaps Guinness takes your fancy? It's brewed in Dublin now, you know - just ignore the fact it tastes of nothing and is crowned by a worryingly persistent layer of white effluent. Indeed, if nitrokeg swill's your thing, go the whole hog and choose a John Smith's Extra Smooth - you too can experience the ultimate in bastardised British brewing. Oh wait - are those handpumps I see? Great, they've got cask ale, that's got to be good, surely? Think again - it's Greene King IPA or Marston's Pedigree, the miserable spawn of acquisitive neo-nationals. The poll is on the left hand side of the page and is open until Wednesday afternoon. Face your worst fears, and get voting. UPDATE: Thanks to everyone who voted. These were the results: Greene King IPA 60 (25%)
Stella Artois 21 (8%)
Marston's Pedigree 92 (39%)
Guinness 45 (19%)
Carling 12 (5%)
John Smith's Smooth 5 (2%)
 Britain's most exciting new brewery barks again.
Brew Dog have been ageing stouts in whisky casks, and the results are spectacular. I won't bullshit you and pretend I'm a whisky connoisseur. I'm not, and I doubt I ever will be. Nevertheless, even I can pick out the flavours of Speyside, Islay and Invergordon in these 10% abv beers.
 Collectively, they go by the name of Paradox. James and Martin haven't told me why, but I can think of one reason. They're fabulously smooth and gentle, yet offer a complexity that reminds me why I seek out this kind of stuff.
When you try them, expect cream and oak to compliment the roast flavours and warmth you'd expect from a strong stout. Give it a swirl in the glass and treat your nose to an aroma that offers a taster of the finest single malt. There are subtle differences in each of the different beers. Naturally, the Islay is gloriously peaty and smoky. The Invergordon was the most deceptively easy going, with vanilla particularly prominent. The Speyside seems to add a touch of orange.
I'm happy to endorse what the boys at Brew Dog are doing. They're producing potent but drinkable beers that demand respect. These aren't crass "extreme beers". To me, those are the fermented equivalent of Jodie Marsh. You'd be in there like a shot if the mood took you and no-one was looking - but you'd feel pretty wretched afterwards. Brew Dog's stouts are definitely saucy, but you could still take them home to meet you mum.
Information:
The Brew Dog website has an online purchasing facility, as well as information on the brewery, the beers and the men that make them. I've also reviewed their Riptide Stout and Hardcore IPA.
Carlsberg and Heineken are considering a joint bid for Scottish & Newcastle, Britain's biggest brewer. Here's the story, which broke earlier today.
Does it matter to us? Not really. To my knowledge S&N has no involvement whatsoever in the quality end of the market. They're responsible for Foster's, Baltika, Kronenbourg and of course Newcastle Brown Ale. The Grimbergen range are probably the best beers in their portfolio, and that's not saying much. Having sold the Courage brands to Wells & Young's in January, they no longer brew any real ale apart from John Smith's cask. Remember, these consolidations and buy-outs between the big brewers have been happening for years, and during that time new independents producing great beers have flourished.
 It's rare enough for quality European beer to get any coverage in the British press, let alone that from across the Atlantic.
That's why I was so pleased to see this article - "It's ale the rage over the pond" - about the Great American Beer Festival (pictured right) in Sunday's Observer. It'll have been a revelation to thousands of British readers. It contrasts the produce of the craft beer scene with the dismal American lagers we've been subjected to for decades. As someone who frequently talks to the uninitiated, I'm frequently met with startled looks when I tell people that the USA is now home to great beer. It's good to see a national newspaper doing the same.
If I had to criticise, I'd challenge the contention in the third paragraph that craft beer is what "Americans call their version of real ale". That isn't the case. Cask conditioned beer is still rare in the USA, and many craft breweries show little interest in providing or promoting it. Too many dedicated American beer lovers misunderstand what real ale is all about, and why it can be so much better than beer that's been filtered and artificially carbonated.
If you'd like to read reports on the GABF from people who were there, my pal Stan Hieronymus has provided a helpful round-up of blog posts over at Appellation Beer.
I hope you enjoyed the mobile blog posts over the weekend. Accompanying photos will be added in the next few days have now been added, so you can see the anarchic scenes on Via Benedetta for yourself. For now, it's time to relax and recover from a great, boozy weekend in Roma. Ciao.
PS. During the course of yesterday the unique visitor counter for Stonch's Beer Blog ticked over 50,000. Thanks to everyone for reading. There's lots more to come.
 After recharging we met Manuele in a cafe at 5pm yesterday and jumped in his car. The first destination was Bir & Fud La Bottega in the Marconi area of Rome (pictured left). It's a shop dedicated to artisanal beer and the "slow food" movement so beloved of our own Prince Charles. We picked up some bottles to take home from the Italian section. A few doors down on the same street was an authentic-looking English pub, The Lord Lichfield, bedecked in Young's livery. Sadly it wasn't to open for another hour.
 Next stop was Le Bon Bock (pictured right). This is Stefano's place, boasting a stupendous whisky selection that is certainly the best in Rome, probably in Italy. Manuele explained this is where it all started for birra in Roma, the first bar to respect our favourite beverage. Beers from Greene King and its subsidiary Belhaven won't excite British beer lovers, but a perfectly poured Pilsner Urquell and remarkably a real Cornish cider on handpump are good to see.
Returning to Trastevere and The Football Pub, it was time for the games to begin. England were playing France in the semi final of the World Cup for the sport that no-one cares about. We were determined to feign interest, but Dr. Robbles insisted he was a real fan. After proclaiming himself an expert in egg-chasing, he fell at the first hurdle when it transpired he didn't know how many points are awarded for a try. He upped the ante by laying bets with the lads on England winning this game and the Argies winning the final. He won some cash last night but hopefully next week he'll come unstuck, the little devil.
 While watching the game we worked our way through mugs of Hartmann Felsenkeller (a slightly smoky Franconian beer with whisky malt added to the mash), Birrificio Italiano Tipopils (the wonderfully bitter pils I mentioned yesterday) and Beck Brau Kellerbier (another Franconian beer). The rest of the evening took a predictable course - when you're in beer paradise, you stay put. It was Bir & Fud for dinner, and back across the street to The Football Pub for more of what's good for us. At 4am, with two men having already retired (slightly huffy, handbags at dawn narrowly averted) myself and Dryz sat worse for wear as Manuele cashed up and his staff enjoyed a beer. I had a glass of Struise Pannepot from Belgium to send myself to sleep.  The beer crowd in Rome and our host Manuele have really looked after us this weekend, and we're eternally grateful. When we finally said goodbye, Dryz showed himself up as the staid Englishman with his handshakes-only policy, but for me it was hugs and kisses all round. This morning we feel surprisingly human considering the trials we've put ourselves through. As usual Dr. Robbles is last to do his ablutions, and we're ready to go out and forage for food. Before our flight we're hoping to squeeze in a quick trip to St Peter's, though I doubt the Pope wants to see us. One final point before we say goodbye: Dryz and Chadders insist that I tell you about Robbles being a little bit sick all over himself. Even worse than yesterday's little incident. Remember, always drink responsibly.Information:- Le Bon Bock is at Circonvallazione Gianicolense 249/251, Rome (Tel: +39 06 53 76806, website). It opens from 6pm daily (closed Wednesdays).
- Bir & Fud Le Bottega is at Via Luca Valerio 41/43, Zona Marconi, Rome (Tel: +39 06 556 1677, website). It's open from 10:30 am to 9pm, Monday to Saturday.
- For more information about The Football Pub and the Bir & Fud restaurant, see yesterday's post.
 It's too early to be up, but we're in Rome and we're over excited.
Last night was fantastic, obviously. After a brief stroll around the Centro Storico (we felt we had to), we commenced the festivities at around 7 with an aperitivo in Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa', better known as "The Football Pub". Manuele and Marco spotted us walking down the street and raised a cheer. Pictured right are Luca, Manuele, myself, Leonardo and Marco behind the bar.
We started with Birrificio Italiano Tipopils (pictured left), a remarkably bitter unfiltered pils, before moving on to some stronger stuff. A highlight was Struise Mikkeller, a collaboration between Danish and Belgian brewers. It's a strong IPA using four varieties of American hop.  As we were chatting and boozing, a holidaying English couple strolled in. A remarkable coincidence - they were clutching my article on beer in Rome published earlier this year in What's Brewing? and were using it as a guide. At first they didn't quite believe the beardless skellington in front of them was the same Stonch pictured, but Manuele reassured them I wasn't a fraud. We soon moved on to the boys' new venture directly across the narrow street. We had pride of place on a table outside of Bir & Fud, perhaps the only restaurant in Italy that doesn't serve wine - only Italian artisanal beer. .  Tasting glasses of all nine draughts (pictured left) were brought to our table with a flourish, together with tasting notes. There were some real corkers in there, as you'd expect. My favourite was Keto Re Porter from Birra del Borgo of Lazio - and I'm not just saying that because the brewer, Leonardo, was doing the pouring. Italian tobacco leaves are added to the mash, and they've got a bag of them on hand to prove it. After sampling the modern Italian cuisine on offer, we enjoyed a full glass each of this fantastic beer together with a Tuscan cigar.  At this point things began to get blurry, but we held our shit together. We returned to the Football Pub and cracked on with a selection of Franconian beers on tap . The place is a warren of small rooms and as I found back in March, the atmosphere gets electric and the banter flows like the beer. Unlike British beer places, the crowd is young and more than a bit glamorous. Naturally, we managed to make fools of ourselves a couple of times. One such incident involved me loudly waxing lyrical about just how statuesque an apparently Italian girl was, before she spoke up and said she was English exchange student. You'll be wondering about two things. First, what does the title of this post mean? It's the Football Pub's slogan, emblazoned on the t-shirts Manuele kindly gifted us. It translates as "when I die, I want to be fermented". Second, how's our plucky hero Dr. Robbles getting on? Well, if you must know, he's crashed on his bed across the room, lying comatose in his own filth. His entire cock and balls are fully on display to his disgusted companions, turning stomachs. Time for some sightseeing now, but we're meeting Manuele at 5pm for a pub crawl. Information:- Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa', also known as "The Football Pub", is at Via Benedetta 25, Trastevere, Rome (Tel: +39 06 972 75218, website). It's open every day from 5.30pm until very late. You can read about my first visit back in March here.
- Bir & Fud is right across the street from The Football Pub at Via Benedetta 23 (Tel: +39 06 589 4016, website). It's open from 8pm Tuesday to Sunday.
We've arrived at the hotel. The glad rags are on and we're ready to commence the session. Dryz is moaning about being hungry and Robbles is pacing. Standard procedure.
For those about to drink, we salute you. Check back tomorrow for a match report.
Poor old Dr. Robbles. We're not even at Stansted yet, and he's already 70 quid lighter. That's the cost of a train from his hovel in Canterbury to London plus a return on the Stansted Express. To make it worse, he's getting griefed for failing to turn up in a remixed golfer outfit - he looks more like Jeremy Clarkson. The only thing that redeems him is a jaunty white flat cap.
We should arrive in Trastevere by late afternoon. Good old Manuele from the Football Pub has sorted us out with a hotel 50 metres from the bar. As soon as we arrive we'll be ditching our bags and hitting the beers until dawn.
Here we are at Stansted. Only an undignified and demoralising Ryanair experience stands between us and oblivion.
 It's been just over a year since the closure of the Ram Brewery in Wandsworth. On 25th September 2006 Young's closed up shop in London and combined their brewing operations with Charles Wells of Bedford. It wasn't long before Wells Bombardier started to appear on handpumps across the Young's pub estate. Courage Best and Directors were soon to follow, when the new joint venture flexed its muscles and purchased the rights to brew those beers from Scottish & Newcastle in January.
To my mind, the first big test for the relocated brewery was it's attempt at the much-loved Young's Winter Warmer. It's a seasonal ale in the old-fashioned Burton style which is always eagerly awaited in late October. It didn't arrive until November, and when it did the results were less than impressive. The beer was sweeter than ever before, without any depth of flavour. Meanwhile, consolidation resulted in casualties amongst the Young's portfolio. Old Nick, the demonic but cheery barley wine, is ominously absent. Oatmeal Stout hasn't been brewed for months. A number of lesser-known beers were unceremoniously axed via press release. I even heard that dry-hopped regular Special was to be phased out, although that hasn't come to pass. A year on, things have settled down. I spoke to the manager of one of Young's flagship central London pubs on Wednesday evening to find out what's really changed.Young's Bitter and Special are still the best selling ales at his bar, followed by the current seasonal Waggledance. Bombardier and Courage lag miles behind. He admitted he didn't like either of the new brands himself, and neither did his regulars. Other landlords across the estate are reporting the same. As usual, they're looking forward to their Winter Warmer. My greatest fear (apart from dying alone, naturally) was that Bombardier and Courage would replace Special and the seasonal ales, appearing to increase choice whilst in fact reducing it. Whatever Wells & Young's might have envisaged this time last year, it seems that drinkers in Young's pubs want to drink Young's beers, even if they are brewed in Bedford. I think that's a good thing.
Many of Britain's pubs are true national treasures. It's a tragedy that so many have been demolished or refurbished beyond recognition. Through their National Inventory, CAMRA have sought to remind people of what we stand to lose if developers - and sometimes pub owners themselves - are allowed to have their way. It's even more tragic when you think how many truly ugly boozers go unmolested. It's never good to see a pub close, but if we've got to lose some, can't we pick the nasty ones?
Betjeman would doubtless have called down the friendly bombs if he'd laid eyes on these shockers I spotted in London. If you know of any pubs that are less appealing than The London Pub in Bloomsbury or The Tower Tavern in Fitzrovia, let me know.
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PS. I would like to place it on the record that I was nearly killed by a black cab while taking that photo of The London Pub. That would have been a truly pointless death.
Who knew that the Italian capital was home to a buzzing artisanal beer scene? Back in March I visited Rome and discovered just that, tucked away amid the churches and monuments. My account of the trip was published in CAMRA's newspaper What's Brewing? as well as here on the blog. I was astonished and elated to find Italian-brewed cask ale in two different venues. The welcome I received was tremendous, and it was great to see so many of the Roman beer lovers again at the GBBF in London.
This weekend I'm making a return visit, together with three mates who are keen to discover the Trastevere's beery delights. They're seasoned beer tourists to a man. All were on the St Alban's pub crawl back in January, and have accompanied me on loads of the sessions you've read about here. Let me introduce you to the team: . Dryz is a fan of fizzy yellow swill. That's him gurning on the right with a pint of Carling in his hand. He'll be looking to expand his beer horizons in Brasserie 4:20, Ma Che Siete Venuti A Fa' and Bir & Fud. He's promised to try some adventurous brews. Let's see if we can turn him on to the good stuff.
 Chadders, pictured on the left about to neck a sambuca, is normally a cool head amongst the lads, but can be prone to disaster when under the influence. Once he paid an Ethiopian minicab driver £150 to take him from Soho to Camden. He'll be the only team member sporting facial fair, making up for my recent return to bare-faced cheek. Chadders is already a fan of quality beer so won't need any persuading.  Last but not least, Dr. Robbles is the wildcard of the group. His ability to misjudge social situations is legendary - witness this bondage outfit he donned for a karaoke session in Tokyo. He's only about 5'5", but what he lacks in stature, he makes up for in other areas. For this trip he'll be unveiling a new image: a sort of remixed weekend golfer who doesn't take any shit. We expect great things from him, and so should you. We fly out on Friday afternoon, and will be hitting the beers that night. expect mobile blog updates throughout the weekend. To all the boys in Rome - Manuele, Alex, Johnny, Leonardo, Marco, Giaguarino, Matteo - we're looking forward to drinking with you again!
 I love this photo, so I'm sharing it with you.
On the left you can see Hyth and James, two lads I've known since I was eleven years old, outside The Wenlock Arms. They're holding pints of Westoe IPA, a beer from the Jarrow Brewery.
Jarrow (pronounced "ja-ra") is just a few miles from where we were born. You may not have heard of it, but it's a town of enormous importance in British history. The Venerable Bede lived there in the 7th century. Fast forward 1200 years, and it was an engine of the industrial revolution. In 1936, the jobless men of Jarrow marched to London to lobby Parliament. Photographs of those crusaders are perhaps the most enduring images we have of the Great Depression in Britain.
We know we're very lucky to come from the North East. It's a wonderful part of the country. I've been talking to my old man about visiting some of the best pubs in Tyneside. When we do it, you'll see some stories and photos here.
 Camden Passage is a narrow Georgian lane, just off Upper Street in Islington. It's lined with small shops and market stalls, hawking vintage clothing, art and antiques. It's just up the road from where I live, and I often wander up there on a Saturday morning. Today I spotted two Chelsea Pensioners thumbing through the tat, a quirky scene you'd only see in London (pictured right). I was tempted to buy a 1960s porcelain figurine of Chairman Mao, grinning inanely while brandishing a cigarette. I decided against, reasoning that the bust of Lenin and framed portrait of Mussolini I already own are quite enough. There's only so many images of totalitarians you can display before guests start worrying about you.
 In the end I walked away with a framed extract from a Victorian newspaper, depicting a scene entitled "Bobbing the Beer". Those two naughty chaps are up to no good, tampering with a butt of London Porter. Here's the text of the article, which I found fascinating: . "The adulteration of Beer, technically termed 'Bobbing', is, unfortunately for the public health, a practice much resorted to by the sellers of London Porter. It is principally carried on in 'cheap neighbourhoods;' and may be considered as one of the evils of the Malt-Tax, as it would be scarcely worth while for the beer-seller to resort to adulteration if malt were free of duty. . "It is stated to be a common practice for a certain class of publicans to make two or three casks of inferior beer from one genuine cask as received from the brewer. Among the ingredients of adulteration are salt and water; and the accompanying illustration is sketched at the moment when a block of salt is being thrown into the butt; whilst the assistant is mixing a compound called 'Black Jack', to which is sometimes added treacle, also the be thrown into the tub. .
"It is not, however, to be supposed that this practice is resorted to by all sellers of the national drink; and we hope that this exposure may be the means of lessening such adulteration, by cautioning our readers as to the flavour of the spurious compound, and the price at which it is sold. The appearance of the adulterated Beer is quite equal to that of the genuine; but this factitious recommendation is obtained by other means than those we have described: fine heading, for instance, is the joint results of a copperas admixture, and the effect of drawing the beer through an engine."
 A drinker was branded a "dirty southerner" by a Yorkshire barmaid when he asked her to remove a sparkler. The story appeared in York's Press newspaper. Thanks to Eric Trimmer for bringing the story to my attention.
The article is misleading, of course. It says the man wanted his beer to be served "without a head", but I'd wager he only asked for the sparkler to be removed. A beer in condition will have a natural head without swan necks or sparklers.
My opinions on sparklers are clear - they're demonic and I want to melt them all down.
  I had lunch today in my local The Jerusalem Tavern. Hytham, an old mate from school, came along.
The pub was reviewed as a lunch venue by The Londonist recently (they quoted from this blog). Much of the food is sourced locally. The meat comes from nearby Smithfield Market, the bread from St John Food & Wine. Add to that a line-up of five or six St Peter's cask ales, including organic bitter, IPA, mild and fruit beer, and you're laughing.
We settled for burgers, and drank a couple of pints of St Peter's Mild and Golden Ale to wash them down. Great stuff. Don't get distracted by the pseudo-science of "matching" specific beers with your meal. Just get stuck in, it's all good for you.
Information:
The Jerusalem Tavern is at 55 Britton Street, Clerkenwell, London, EC1M 5UQ (Tel: 020 7490 4281, map). Note that the pub is closed on weekends. Food is served at lunchtime and on Wednesday and Thursday evenings.
 Now let me tell you a story from the past. None of my stories take place very long ago, but then in the world of British brewing a decade is a long time. For ten years ago, Vaux of Sunderland, a mighty regional brewery of the North East, still had two years left in it.
Vaux was founded in 1837. Like most traditional breweries, it relied on tied houses to sell its ale. One of them was The Steamboat in South Shields. The pub sits at the end of a terrace in a historic part of town called Mill Dam, a cobbled square by the River Tyne. Next door is an old Customs House which once served a bustling sea port. It's been converted into a successful theatre. It looks enviously across to North Shields, where the odd passenger ferry or merchant ship can be seen lying at anchor. I worked behind the bar at The Steamboat for a year before leaving home for university. I recall drinking considerably more than my alloted free pint per session. When you're working for just £3 an hour, it's the least you can do. The pub was where I first gained a taste for proper beer. It's also where I learned that about half of all pub regulars are certifiably insane. The fact I rather liked that condemned me to the life I now lead. Samson was the Vaux's signature bitter. Brown ale Double Maxim was a much loved beer. Waggledance was another regular, a strong bitter with honey added to the mash. Michael Jackson mentioned four Vaux beers in his 1998 book Beer. Less than a year after MJ's words were published, the brewery closed. The parent company, Swallow Group, decided to concentrate on its hotel business. There was an aborted attempt at a management buy-out, led by MD Frank Nicholson, who described Vaux as his "beloved brewery". Hundreds of jobs were lost. The 16 acre site is still derelict eight years on thanks to legal wrangles with landowner Tesco. . Things aren't so bad, though. The Vaux legacy lives on. The rights to brew Waggledance were purchased by Young's of Wandsworth, and despite the move to Bedford last year they're still producing it as a seasonal. Double Maxim and Samson have been revived by a new micro in Sunderland, founded by the head brewer and two ex-directors from Vaux. Back in South Shields, The Steamboat is still in the Good Beer Guide. The entry mentions a "long-standing landlord". Presumably that's the same bloke I worked for. His health was obviously better than I thought - appearances really can be deceptive.
 Maltovivo Noscia is a beer from Campania, the "fortunate countryside" that boasts the lively city of Naples and the stupefying Amalfi coast. The labels tell me it's a "sud est imperial IPA". I brought it back in March from Johnny's Off License in Rome. The beautiful, fat-bottomed 75cl bottle has been waiting patiently in the stash since then.
I recall Johnny mentioning that for this batch, Maltovivo added a quantity of smoked malt to the grain bill. He wasn't wrong - smoke on the nose, smoke in the mouth, smoke in my tummy. As you can tell, smoky flavours in beers make my senses melt into a gooey mess of childlike joy. Add to that a fresh Cascade aroma, bitterness from Goldings, an effervescent mouthfeel and a dry, yeasty aftertaste. All of that seems to have been dipped in honey for good measure. This is a beer that brings together influences from here, there and everywhere. At 6.0% abv, it isn't excessively alcoholic, despite the "imperial" guff on the label. As you can probably tell, I really enjoyed this from beginning to end. It's the most interesting beer I've had in a while.
Innovative brewing. You hear about it all the time, but what is it? Would a British brewer producing a decent Belgian abbey beer be a true innovator? Perhaps a competent stout from Germany would win the prize? What about those who jump on the "extreme" bandwagon? I don't think so.
Innovative brewing is about producing something truly novel. Maltovivo have done that just that with this little beauty. Best of all, it tastes nice too. When it comes to what they call birra artigianale, the Italians mean business.
Information:
Maltovivo is based in Capriglia Irpina in the Province of Avellino, about an hour's drive inland from Naples. The brewery has a website here.
Plans to privatise Budejovicky Budvar have been put on hold by Czech PM Mirek Topolánek, according to yesterday's Prague Daily Monitor. I recently a piece on speculation about the brewery's future here.
 Apparently conversion of the state-owned corporation to a joint-stock company, a necessary precursor to any privatisation, will take another 12-18 months. Indeed, the advisers that will carry out the process (presumably firms of lawyers and accountants) have yet to be appointed. The PM has also scotched rumours that his office have been negotiating terms of sale with Anheuser-Busch, the world's third largest brewer. Topolánek is Chairman of the right-wing Civic Democratic Party, also the party of mean-looking President Václav Klaus. My knowledge of Prague politics is limited, but I believe the right has a strong ideological bent and often makes admiring references to our own Margaret Thatcher. Despite Topolánek's claim to the Chamber of Deputies that "this is no privatisation", if his government survives we may yet see Budvar up for sale. I've been to České Budějovice, by the way. Sadly it's a bit of a one-horse town. It does have an M&S, though. And a couple of breweries, of course.
 An article on Appellation Beer reminded me of a recent development down in Faversham. Earlier this year Shepherd Neame, the Kentish regional brewer, opened a microbrewery alongside their existing plant (pictured right).
In July Old Faversham Dark was brewed for CAMRA's Kent Beer Festival. Casks were also made available to a limited number of tied houses. In August three nines of Cobtree Mild were produced using hops from the Museum of Kent Life. Last week What's Brewed, a 6.8% abv special ale named for CAMRA's newspaper, was on sale at the St Albans Beer Festival. It's all wonderful PR. Such a display of commitment to cask ale is reassuring, coming from a company that devotes so much capacity to churning out licensed lagers like Asahi and Oranjeboom. .Of course they're emulating other much larger brewers, notably Molson Coors. The company produces microbrews under the Blue Moon label in Denver, Colorado. Here in the UK, the Museum Brewery at Burton (now redubbed "White Shield" after its main product) has been in operation for many years. Steve Wellington's recreations of historic beers are much acclaimed, and most beer lovers are willing to overlook the parentage.
 Here's a drum (or rather a barrel) I've been meaning to bang for a while. Most of the breweries and bars we visited in Franconia served beer directly from barrels, perched on the bar top. The kegs that leave UK aleheads apoplexed were nowhere to be seen. The picture to the left is of my mate Andy serving Lowenbrau Buttenheim's Annfestbier direct from the barrel in that brewery's Forchheim keller. Pictured right is a wooden barrel set up for gravity dispense in the Schlenkerla tavern in Bamberg.
.  As Andy was fond of saying, "there's no drama". The barrel is vented at the top, and the beer served via gravity from a tap fitted at the bottom. It's the same principle as a British cask. The beer needs to turn over quickly to avoid going stale, but any popular bar dedicated to beer shouldn't have a problem. The barrels are insulated to keep the temperature down. . This method of dispense results in a perfect beer ever time, beautifully smooth with a thick, creamy head. On the few occasions we tried beer dispensed from a modern keg, the difference was startling. The beer in the glass was coarsely carbonated - often unpleasantly fizzy - due to the additional CO2 that had been absorbed when it was under pressure then forced through the lines. Although there's only one type of carbon dioxide, forcing extraneous gas into the brew from cylinders has a negative effect on the drinking experience. Anyone that tells you lagers somehow benefit from such treatment doesn't know what they're talking about. If you try a naturally carbonated German beer alongside one served under gas pressure from a sealed keg, you'll see what I mean.
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Here are the results of the last poll. Thanks to everyone who voted.
