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Christmas at The Gunmakers
 It's not good to sell a beer that only becomes drinkable if you stash it away for yonks. That's why I'm not too keen on some strong monsters. Take Chimay Blue: it's just too harsh when it's young. Likewise, I've never understood why the Trappistes Rochefort beers get quite as much praise as they do. Of course, this does come from a chap whose ideal beers are perfect pilsners and pale ales, so beer geeks will scoff at my words.
I've had a bottle of Trappistes Rochefort 10 in a cool, dark place for almost two years now. It's the monastic Belgian brewery's strongest at 11.3% abv. I've just opened it to say goodbye to the weekend.
The contrast between this and those I've had before is stark. Gone is the excessive carbonation and the oppressive aroma of fiery alcohol. Instead, the beer's smoother and more enjoyable. In fact, it's positively easy drinking. There's a lovely, stouty roastiness at the back of my mouth and a creamy rush along the way. Spice dominates the long aftertaste, but doesn't smack me up as I take my first sip.
The swelling on my ankle has gone down and I can walk without a crutch now. I've developed a limping gait due to tightness in my ligaments. I won't be doing any running for a very long time. That's very depressing. First of all, I love running. Secondly, it's going to mean cutting down on the rich food and oceans of beer I've been able to consume in between street pounding sessions. Or course, I could just get fat again. But that wouldn't do. On a positive note, Holly Willoughby appears to be on the telly on a semi permanent basis. That's nice.
Last night I went to the opening of Beer Exposed at the Islington Design Centre. It's been heavily marketed for the last few weeks. A range of brewers - from the very big to the very small - had pitched up with stalls. Shepherd Neame must have splashed out the most: their displays of brewing equipment and vintage drays dominated the foyer. Marks for effort go to the Ethiopian chap who's importing beer from Addis Ababa.
The boys and girls paid to meet and greet had been sketchily briefed, but some of them looked pretty. A few ventured that they didn't normally like beer, but were strangely hooked on the product they'd been paid to push. Odd. The dangerously short, green silk dresses deployed on behalf of Tsingtao were nothing short of embarrassing.
Most of the beer was dispensed only in tiny samples, and the vast majority of it came from bottles (boo). A dishonourable mention has to go to Rogue Mocha Porter from the USA. The aroma brought to mind a dirty sock that's been kept in the bottom of a gym bag over the entire school holidays. How they reproduce such a singular odour is beyond me. It tasted pretty rank too. Suddenly, the site of a gurning Tsingtao girl seemed more appealing, and a tasteless Chinese palate cleanser slipped down a treat.
Beer Exposed (website) runs until Saturday.
Leaving behind the comforts of my phat flat on the nicer side of Clerkenwell, I've decided to move into the pub's tiny garret until my ankle's better. It's the only way forward - the cab journeys were getting tiring, and people point and laugh when I walk on two crutches. I don't think the accommodation's been occupied since the 1980s, when an old Irish couple with a Jack Russell ran the gaff for Charrington's.
Waking up this morning at work was very odd, as Chef announced his arrival with a rattle of pans. And to think, I used to be a "highly paid City lawyer" (not my words, the words of BEER magazine). This would be a much better story if I was a victim of the "credit crunch", wouldn't it?
David Long of Milton Keynes wins a case of Sam Smith's beer, including their bottle conditioned Yorkshire Stingo. Thanks to everyone who entered our latest Beer-Ritz competition. We'll have another in a few weeks.
Beer-Ritz is Britain's longest-established online beer seller. The company sponsors this website. They also donate competition prizes for readers on a regular basis.
Here's a very cheeky label from Harvey's. Remind you of anything?  A pal took me for lunch in The Royal Oak in Borough today. That's where we spotted this bottle.
Answer these five questions and you could win a box of beer. You need to do so by 3pm tomorrow (Wednesday).
At the request of a regular, I've ordered in some Weston's Old Rosie. It comes in a 35 pint bag in box, set up for draught dispense. The bastard thing's too big for our fridge, so we have to sell it from the cellar. The bar staff are annoyed with me and want to hide the little chalk board advertising it. They looked particularly pissed off when I started offering people tasters. Brian Potter here can't manage those stairs right now, so it's a good job I've got the girls (and boy) to do the cellar runs.
Old Rosie is a 7.3% abv scrumpy cider from Weston's of Herefordshire (website). I remember having a really boring conversation with some oddjob from CAMRA who was adamant that Weston's don't make "real cider". I started thinking about something else while he was talking so can't remember what the reasons were.
 This afternoon I needed a stiff drink before braving A&E. My own method of dealing with the old swollen ankle - writing about it for a load of strangers on t'internet - met with disapproval from loving staff and regulars. After hearing scare stories about never ending injuries, I got the willies and jumped in a cab to hospital.
Someone told me that "wallop" is ale spiked with port. In the past I've tried googling for verification, but no joy. Never mind - let's try it out. At 1pm I poured a bloody good slug of Cockburns into a sexy pint of Adnams Broadside. The result? The most wonderful whiff of booze, an off-pink head, and a marvellously fortifying pint. Grrrr. Let the record show that my experience at Accident and Emergency was wonderful, from beginning to end. I have codine. I have crutches. Best of all, the doctor who saw me was absolutely fucking gorgeous. All the medics I met at uni were total geeks (sorry, Robbles), so presumably she went to Cambridge.
For all the chat about Sam Smith's being an ultra-trad brewery, there's a wilder side to the company. They're selling sex toys in one of their London pubs. At The Cittie of Yorke on High Holborn there's a cock ring dispenser in the gents. I'm not kidding. As well as the "Zeus Stimulator Ring" (3 x £1 coins), you can also buy "Blue Zeus Pills" for some extra horn.
COMPETITION REMINDER: Sadly, there won't be anything saucy in the box of Sam Smith's ales you can win by emailing me with the answers to these questions. The competition closes at 3pm on Wednesday, so you don't have long. Less than 48 hours, in fact. That's about how long it takes me to crawl up and down the stairs.
 My ankle's gone all black and blue now. Surely that means it's getting better? It hurts less, too. Time for a beer to celebrate. How about another bottle in a box? Let's try Innis & Gunn Oak Aged, Limited Edition 2006.
This one's almost a year past it's sell by date, so perhaps I shouldn't expect too much, but I&G beers tend to be irredeemably shit at the best of times. They're the most obvious example of Emperor's New Clothes in the beer world, with the possible exception of all those headbanging Scandinavian concoctions. It's muddy, muddy brown. Very sweet. Very pasteurised. Quite boozy at 7.2% abv, though, so it does the trick right now. There you have it, sirs: your beer just about makes muster as a gentle anaesthetic for a grumpy, injured man.
Innis & Gunn beers are contract brewed for an Edinburgh-based company (website) at the Belhaven Brewery, which is owned by Greene King. On that basis, if you wanted to be a twat about it, you could say they were GK beers. But that would be wrong. And twattish. Almost as twattish, in fact, as writing uninformative beer reviews while laid up with a running injury.
 So this is what I'm reduced to. Thanks to my crippling injury, I'm drinking bottled beer in the flat by myself like a no-mark, no-mates loser. Well that's just champion, pet, innit. So what's my poison? Fullers Vintage Ale 2007. Ooh, look it comes in a posh red box. And the bottle has a paper seal over the top of the cap. Well, I'm just bowled over already.
There's an orange hue to the cloudy body (look, I poured it as carefully as I could - these bottle conditioned beers are like a homework assignment, what with all the bloody instructions you have to follow before you get to drink the bastard thing). It doesn't taste like sweet soup, despite being 8.5% abv. There's a nice malty smack to it, with spicy and sharp hops taking over and blending against a creamy backdrop. Yes. That'll do. This is lovely. Or maybe it isn't, and I'm just pleased to be concentrating on something other than the MASSIVE SWELLING and ALMOST UNBEARABLE PAIN coming from my knackered ankle. Fullers (website) is a brewery in London where they make beer. If you get a cab to Heathrow you might pass right by it. It has a big chimney.
I took a tumble and a half when out running yesterday. I managed to trip over a kerb, my ankle twisting the wrong way and my body hurtling into a bollard. I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact it's probably a fracture rather than a light sprain. My ankle looks positively elephantine and it absolutely wrecks.
My friends Chris and Su Gill, owners of Ascot Ales, have heeded my call for a beautification of the barrels. They sent casks adorned with decorative fronts to their local beer festival via horse drawn dray. .jpg) Ascot Ales (website) is a microbrewery based in Camberley, Surrey. The 2nd Ascot Racecourse Beer Festival (website) is taking place on 26th & 27th September, with Ascot Ales having 6 of their ales featured.
  Let's give something away. How about a mixed case of bottled beers from Samuel Smith? The selection will include the barrel-aged Yorkshire Stingo, the latest addition to the brewery's range (pictured right). That's the prize in our latest Beer-Ritz competition.
Let's keep it simple. To be in with a chance of winning, all you have to do is answer five questions. The answers can be found in past articles on this blog. I've tried to word them so that you can't just use the search function, but I've probably failed. - London's second-largest independent brewery delivers its beer in a distinctive van - what colour is it?
- In which European country was beer prohibited until the late 80s?
- Where did we find a handheld gadget designed to warm up a beer?
- Which London brewery first opened, then closed for good, during the life of this website?
- In which country pub in the Home Counties did we encounter a particularly undemonstrative landlord?
Email your answers to me at stonchblog@gmail.com before 3pm on Wednesday 24th September. Include your full name and address with your entry. The prize can only be sent to those with an address in the UK. The winner will be picked at random from among those who answer all five questions correctly. Beer-Ritz (website) is Britain's longest established online beer retailer. Samuel Smith is a traditional brewery in Tadcaster, Yorkshire. I wrote a piece about its London pub estate here.
In Hampshire, there's a steam railway that runs a Real Ale Train on Saturday nights. It sounded so fabulously wanky, we just had to do it. My pal Jon booked six tickets in advance, but last night only four of us could make it. I missed out. The only report I've had from the lads that did go was a short text from Dryz: "It's good, but loads of fat people in very narrow spaces". That, and two photos taken on Dr. Robbles' beloved Ipod phone.
 Last week I wrote about Lučan, the Czech lager imported exclusively by Wetherspoons. Yesterday, I tried it at The Knights Templar on Chancery Lane. I'm sufficiently interested in quality lager - so rare in the UK - to sacrifice my principles. Favoured by barrister's clerks with footballer tie knots and nasty suits, the pub's a bank conversion that could be impressive if they stripped out all the tacky branding. As it is, it's one of the better 'Spoons in London, and no stranger to good beer.
Lučan: it's really, really good. Full bodied, smoothly carbonated, nice and bitter with a (very) surprising suggestion of smoke. It looks nice, too - a darkish amber with a perfect white head. I like the way it's only 4.3% abv. At £2.99 a pint, they've priced it competitively (doubtless it's cheaper outside of central London). Is it worth entering a Wetherspoons for? Perhaps, as long as you immerse yourself in a game of Hangman's Haunted House on the quizzer and ignore your surroundings. I've got a new mobile phone with a better camera, so expect the dismal photos on this site to improve very slightly.
In the absence of sunshine, Hop Back Summer Lightning brought some seasonal joy to our pub. We've sold countless casks of it over the last couple of months. It's even managed to bump my favourite beer - Timothy Taylor Landlord - off the bar at times. Now that the evenings are drawing in, it's time to give it a rest. The three barrels in the cellar will be our last for 2008, I think. This strong, hoppy godsend has been a good friend to me, but it's time to say goodbye.
The photo was taken outside my pub on Monday by my pal Ross. We enjoyed those pints of Summer Lightning just after lunch. Afterwards we set off for a city-spanning pub crawl through Holborn, Borough, Greenwich and Blackheath.
Last week I mentioned The Museum Tavern, the pub by the British Museum that serves Theakston's Old Peculier all year round. Today I wandered over there in the afternoon with Lincoln, a member of my bar staff who's just finished touring with his band. He's a beer lover in the making, always keen to try something new.
We ordered two pints of the Old P and sat outside. It looked great in the glass: very dark brown with a red hue, wearing a mess of fatboy bubbles as a crown. Our first sips confirmed this was very fresh, yet still the sour and funky character came to the fore. Raisins and plums, doused in all manner of alcoholic goodness.
For those of you who've only tried the pasteurised, bottled version of this beer: you need to have it from the cask. It's an entirely different proposition. Characterful, punchy, delicious. I'm so impressed I've decided to order three casks this week and lay them down for a while in the cellar. Fridays will be even more fun.
Theakson's Old Peculier comes from an independent brewery in Masham, Yorkshire (website). It's 5.6% abv. It's a winner. Can we sell it? Yes we can.
It's rare that you meet a Cumbrian. I've always wondered whether anyone really lives there. Well, the population of England's North-Western extremity are into microbrewing in a big way. Their beers will be showcased at The Bricklayer's Arms in Putney this weekend. More details are on the pub's website. Kathryn, the sister of landlady Becky, recommends Loweswater Gold, her personal favourite among the 50 beers on offer.
I've received a tip-off about a new brewpub in London's Far East. Apparently they're producing ale over at The William IV and Sweet William (816 High Road, Leyton, E10 6AE, map). I should go and check it out immediately. I probably won't, though, because it isn't in Zone 1 and I can't walk there. Any further information would be appreciated.
 On Friday nights I crack open bottled beers provided by breweries and distributors. The tasting takes place in our pub's cellar, before I share the beer with staff and regulars upstairs. Email me at stonchblog@gmail.com if you'd like your beer to feature.
Barrel aged beers are all the rage. Everyone knows that whisky, beer's distilled relative, benefits from being laid down in wood. As such, it's an easy concept to sell to the general public, and one that's quickly gained legs. Lovibond's Dark Reserve is 7.4% dark ale made with a blend of seven malts, including one that's been smoked. It's been quartered in whisky barrels for six months. Only 500 75cl bottles have been produced.
There's a nice little head that sticks around looking pretty in the glass. A wee bit of swirling (pretentious?) unleashes a tremendous whiff of mature, boozy goodness. The label talks of vanilla and toffee aromas - that's just about spot on. Sour flavours dominate the palate, crowding out the dark choccy notes. A sweet, creamy finish soothes after an espresso kick. Dark Reserve's biggest fan was our beer-loving barmaid from Newcastle. A couple of glasses made her a bit squiffy and useless, to be honest. I promised the brewer I'd save three bottles for the next committee meeting of the British Guild of Beer Writers, which will be held in our upstairs room. It looks like I'll need to hide them from a certain member of staff... Thanks to Jeff Rosenmeier, head brewer at Lovibond's of Henley (website) for providing this week's beer. I tasted his regular wheat beer and porter a year ago (notes here).
Tight old gits love to moan about the price of a pint of ale. I think I'm making a big concession by pricing ordinary bitters at less than £3 (remember we're in central London), but I still hear the occasional grumble.
Let me ask you this, then: why is it that the cheapest lager in the pub is often more expensive than a premium ale? British ales tend be produced in small or regional-scale breweries. Consequently they cost more to brew than mass-produced lager brands, yet that isn't reflected in their wholesale price. In pubs wastage on ale is higher than keg products, reducing margins for landlords.
Isn't it time we accepted that we need to pay a fair price - relative to big-brand lagers - for a product as exceptional as cask conditioned ale?
I've been too busy to post on the blog over the last three days. Sorry about that. There's lots in the pipeline for the week to come. On Friday night we had another tasting in the cellar, cracking open big bottles of a massive, barrel-aged beauty. I've met up with The Jerusalem Tavern's new chef, who's started using beer in his recipes. Not only that, but the phantom tramp has returned.
I asked chef to make some pork scratchings. Tonight he did so, and I passed them around the pub. Like ganets, the kids descended on the hairy, objectionable pig products. One long-haired punter pronounced "this has just become the best pub in the world". I think I'll do this again.
I'm taking a breather in the office. It's busy here tonight. Hopback Summer Lightning is flying out (as is Staropramen, but let's not go there again). At one point the front bar was like the Black Hole of Calcutta, except people were smiling instead of dying an unpleasant, cramped death.
There's a new Bohemian lager in town. Lucan was voted Beer of the Czech Republic at the the Budweis beer competition in 2005. The export version has just reached Britain. Sadly, it's only on sale in Wetherspoons pubs - and you know what I think of those.
If I want to try it, I'll need to compromise. I'll need to go to a pub where I'll queue up to be served next to twitching freaks who smell of wee, before sitting down amid the minging remnants of discarded, microwaved ready meals. A pox on you and your mullet, Tim Martin.
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Thanks.
The Betsey Trotwood now has two extra handpumps, making a total of five. Guinness and Strongbow have been relegated to the side of the bar to make room. Toward the end of the week, Shepherd Neame's Kent's Best, Spitfire, Bishop's Finger, Whitstable Bay and Canterbury Jack will be available simultaneously. There isn't another Shep's pub in London that can boast such a range. The pub's youngest resident Bobby - son of landlord Raz - looks proud of the new additions.
The Betsey Trotwood is at 56 Farringdon Road, London, EC1R 3BL (map, website).
I visit the British Museum so often, the mummies are sick of the sight of me. The naked Aphrodite thinks I'm stalking her and the boy pulling the thorn from his foot wishes I'd just piss off. My reasons for bothering the place so frequently are simple: it's probably the finest museum in the world, it's free to get in, and it's a short-ish walk from home. Even when packed with tourists, I find it tranquil. If you're a philistine and the exhibits bore you, you can instead inflict long stares on unsuspecting girls from around the globe. Just don't let their husbands, boyfriends or - worse still - fathers clock you.
After taking care of the mind and soul, the body needs attention too. Opposite the spectacular front entrance, The Museum Tavern serves draught Theakston's Old Peculier all year round. That's beer covered, then. If you want to eat, ignore the cafes inside and slip out of the back exit. There you'll find Delia's Kitchen Afrika. The brightly-dressed proprietor sits impassively in the front, grinning serenely as her hired help scurries around.
For those incapable of reading between the lines: the British Museum is where I go when I'm really hungover.
I spotted this sign in the window of a curry house in Covent Garden. The sentiments expressed terrify me. Those of you who track down our pub (and lots of you have) should expect a slightly different approach to customer service.
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It's not good to sell a beer that only becomes drinkable if you stash it away for yonks. That's why I'm not too keen on some strong monsters. Take Chimay Blue: it's just too harsh when it's young. Likewise, I've never understood why the Trappistes Rochefort beers get quite as much praise as they do. Of course, this does come from a chap whose ideal beers are perfect pilsners and pale ales, so beer geeks will scoff at my words.
