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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
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Stonch lives in London, where he runs a pub.
Here are the results of the last poll. Thanks to everyone who voted.
