Cambridge Pubs Part 2

Previously on "A Bitter Bloke: Cambridge Pubs"

• I went to some pubs in Cambridge.
• I enjoyed an ale or two.
• An old man was spotted.
• I ate a pig.

And now the continuation of "A Bitter Bloke: Cambridge Pubs"

A bicycle in Cambridge? What a strange and unusual sight!

Our jolly jaunt through Cambridge took us to the Kingston Arms, a cosy little pub and probably my favourite of the pubs we visited in Cambridge. Walking in we were greeted with a L-Shaped room with a small bar containing a tremendous amount of hand pumps. Tasty looking food was also available but unfortunately I didn't get to try any. Adding to the "charm" were the booths which appeared to have been stolen from a 70's snooker club. I half expected to see Hurricane Higgins sitting in the corner supping a pint. But then I would have realised it was a ghost and would of run from the pub screaming. I went for a pint of Buntingford Delta, an American style ale which was really rather good, with an excellent and very pleasurable hoppy taste coming through. When we returned on Sunday things got even better as they had the Mighty Oak Oscar Wilde available. This was in tip top condition and every element that made it the Champion Beer of Britain 2011 shone through. A perfectly judged balance of coffee and chocolate flavours.

Sadly the pubs size cannot cope with the popularity and there were plenty of the dreaded "Reserved" signs on the tables when we visited on Sunday. Reserved signs are for restaurants, not for pubs. Unless the Reserved is there to warn people that the people sitting at the table are quiet and unassuming. Even with this minor annoynace I really enjoyed both visits to the pubs. There were posters on the tables asking punters to vote The Kingston Arms as Cambridge Pub of the Year. I hope they get it and wish them luck.

The final pub we visited was The Devonshire Arms. This pub has recently been taken over and renovated by the Milton brewery and was looking good. Although small and unassuming from the outside there's actually a very large room at the back with a real fire, so plenty of space to enjoy a pint. I had a great pint of Sparta, a refreshing pale bitter. The Lovely Jemma asked me what I was drinking and I somehow resisted the urge to slam my pint onto the table and bark "This. IS. SPAAAAAAAAAAARTAAAAAAAAA." Probably because I was a bit tipsy by that point and had forgotten the name of what I was drinking. Still it was a excellent and very tasty pint. Gerard Butler would of been proud.

Overall I really enjoyed all four of the pubs we dropped in to in Cambridge. Now I'll have to do a real ale jaunt around Oxford and find out which one is truly better. All I know is, whoever wins, my stomach loses.

Cambridge Pubs Part 1

I forgot to bring my camera again. Sorry.

A couple of weekends ago I paid a visit to the charming city of Cambridge. Glorious buildings, a charming river, and of course plenty of lovely real ale pubs. I still prefer Oxford to be perfectly honest but Cambridge ain't bad. It's certainly better than the university I went to, the wonderful Bournemouth University. While Cambridge colleges have amazing fifteen century architecture with fabulous chapels, Bournemouth is a 1970's prefab nightmare with a shabby library attached. Still the union bar was cheap, and at £1.10 for a pint of Fosters you couldn't really complain (except that you were drinking Fosters.) Heaven knows what the price of drinks is now, but with students having to pay £9,000 a year just to attend I imagine they can afford it.

Cambridge is blessed with some cracking pubs and it was my mission to visit the highlights. We were in town for a weekend to visit The Lovely Jemma's friends so a crafty pub crawl to her house was devised. We started off at the Free Press, a lovely little Greene King boozer. This small pub has no music, no TV and mobile phones are not allowed. Clearly run by a militant bore but the pub was very pleasant. A welcome pint of Titanic Iceberg was poured which was in tip top condition, and highly refreshing. The rest of the ales were the usual Greene King suspects, although the rarely seen Mild was on. Sadly I didn't get to try a pint. A group of lads who had taken over the snug were clearly trying make up for the lack of TV's by recreating their own episode of The Only Way Is Essex by being as loud and obnoxious as possible. Still this didn't detract from an excellent Ploughman's lunch. A lovely little pub and well worth a visit.

Visit this pub it's ace.

Next stop was the Cambridge Blue, voted Cambridge Pub of the Year 2011 by those knowledgeable blokes at CAMRA, and not something ridiculous like TV Quick Magazine. Incidentally it always amuses me when I see something proudly proclaiming to be "Show of the Year," but when you look at the small print you see it's actually "WOW! Really?! Magazine Readers Choice Show of the Year 1989" and your heart sinks because you know these readers of WOW! Really?! are bound to be idiots and the show is going to be trash. Basically my advice is never watch anything that has won a Readers Choice award. I had to suffer through We Will Rock You which has won many such awards. How I managed to sit through the show without punching others or myself in the gut even when they changed the lyrics in Radio Gaga to mention "Internet Gaga" I'll never know. Brian May must be spinning in his grave. I hope never to return to the show because they've most likely shoved a Lady Gaga joke in there and I will be forced to run around the theatre frothing at the mouth and ruining some poor Grannies birthday.

The Cambridge Blue was great, with a fine selection of ales and a gigantic beer garden out back. I enjoyed a delicious pint of Nethergate Dew Drop which was in fine condition and appeared to be a house favourite. We visited on both Friday and Saturday, and on Saturday there was a hog roast and "real live" reindeer, which I suppose is better than real dead reindeer. The hog roast was excellent and paired with a pint of WharfeBank Camfell Flame I'd pretty much found pub perfection. Sadly a reindeer roast never appeared but overall the Blue is an excellent boozer and was quite rightly packed out.

That's enough for now, to keep up the suspense and to boost my post count I'll post comments about the Kingston Arms and the Devonshire Arms in my next post. Ta-ra for now.

The Grafton, The Compass and a Lloyds

Holy crap I've just realised that's Rik Mayall!

Walking into a pub you haven't visited before for the first time is like opening an anonymous brown bag found in a park and looking inside. Will it be gold or will it be shit? The past week saw me enter two pubs for the first time, and both were different experiences. First up was The Grafton Arms near Warren Street, an area devoid of decent pubs. but plenty of mediocre ones. The residents are predominately international students staying at the UCL dorms, as they are the only ones who can afford to stay in London dorms. I guess the pub landlords are happy to palm them off with any old tat as they desperately work on a worthless degree which will guarantee them being told they're overqualified at every job interview they go to.

The Grafton Arms has been around for a while and its current owners are Greene King. It's a surprisingly pleasant two floor pub with a lovely outside terrace which is apparently often booked for parties. As it's a Greene King pub the ale selection wasn't spectacular. In fact it was so unremarkable I can barely remember what was available. I think IPA and another GK was on, plus a guest which is what I drank. Ashamedly I can't remember what the guest ale was called. But I do remember singing along loudly to "Wired for Sound" while pretending to rollerskate around Milton Keynes, followed by a horrific crashing sound as near 20 beer glasses fell of a table and down the stairs. It was that kind of night.

What the hell possessed me to go inside?
I couldn't even spot any hot goths.

We visited The Intrepid Fox after but I'm not going to comment on that.

Later on in the week I paid a visit to The Compass on Chapel Street, Islington. Although very busy the atmosphere was oddly cold and lacking. I tried a pint of the Adnams Spiced Winter Ale which was rather good, with a nice hoppy flavour and subtle spicy undertones. Adnams really seem to have improved in the last few months and I've been enjoying their new tipples. They're moving away from the processed, chemical taste which sometimes befell them and are starting to taste like decent, solid ales. Sadly the taste was tarnished a little when I was charged £3.80 for a pint. A ridiculous price and I ended up having to nurse my pint for a hour in fear of having to take out a mortgage for a second pint.

This was followed by a curry at the Delhi Grill, a rather good Indian restaurant that is a rare ray of sunshine on the windswept hellhole which is known as Chapel Market. I was also pleased to see the Elbow Room has closed down. What a miserable grim pit that was.

This chap is wondering whether to go back in
for another pint at 11am or just end it all now.

On the theme of miserable grim pits, we popped into the Glass Works, a Lloyds Number 1 based in the Islington cinema complex. Just kidding, it wasn't that awful, although the ale selection was dire. I ended up going for a pedestrian pint of Abbot Ale, which was fine but nothing earth shattering. At least I got a quid off my round thanks to the CAMRA vouchers.

Although I wouldn't make a special trip to return to the Grafton or The Compass, they're both good bets if you find yourself stuck in the area and require a pint. Just remember to stop by Nationwide near The Compass to take out a loan before stepping in.

Soapbox, Richmal Compton, Orphans

If there's one thing UK government don't seem to like it's seeing the general populace having fun. You can't even swing innocently on a cenotaph these days without getting banged up for sixteen months before pissing off early after four. Admittedly I, like Charlie "Brown" Gilmour, didn't know what a cenotaph was either until I saw a picture of one in the paper. I had just assumed he was caught swinging off a mythical beast with a horses body and a human head.

One way the government is cracking down on fun is by interfering with the beer industry. The government has recently announced tax concessions on any beers brewed at 2.8% ABV and below. Everything above 2.8 is still getting taxed at a ridiculously high rate and prices will only go up in the future. I cannot see the point of a 2.8% beer. Most people drink alcoholic drinks because they want to get a bit drunk. There's a reason they've chosen a beer and not a coke or a cup of tea. A 2.8% beer isn't going to do much for most folk. I find it sad that our government must think that if the public drink anything stronger than 2.8% they will immediately turn into yobbish, terrifying buffoons running through the streets destroying everything and everybody in sight. The reality is the majority of pissed people will either shout or giggle hysterically for a little while before falling asleep.

Of course the taxes don't affect the MPs themselves who have refused to get rid of the subsidised bars in the House of Commons. Even if they did shut down the bars there's a Sam Smiths just across Parliament Square which will take care of their cheap booze needs. I still don't trust Sam Smiths beer and can only assume it's so cheap because it's made from the tears of exploited orphans.* Incidentally I once went to the pub with some orphans. They asked me to get them something they've never had before, so I got them a round of Fosters. They weren't amused.

Thanks to taxes and London being a generally expensive place to live the average price for a pint is now pushing the £4 boundary. Therefore last Sunday I was pleased to walk into the Richmal Compton in Bromley. I'm not usually pleased to walk into this dreary Lloyds No. 1 bar as it attracts the usual Wetherspoons old man crowd during the day and the usual terrifying orange skinned crowd of "ladies of a certain age" in the evening. The certain age being around 35 to past it. However on this Sunday evening all ales were £1.50. That's one in the eye for David Cameron and that sinister Vince Cable bloke. I enjoyed a fine pint of the Burton Bridge Brewery "Knot Brown Ale" a tasty brew with a faint chocolate taste and pleasant hoppy aftertaste. I then went for a pint the "Red Nectar Ale" brewed specially for Wetherspoons by the American Firestone Walker brewery via Shepherd Neame. I didn't enjoy this brew as much, which had a slightly spicy taste which I didn't find to be very pleasurable.

After enjoying two pints of ale, both above 2.8% for the princely sum of £3, I immediately went outside and stole a bulldozer before running over 20 old ladies and a dog, urinating and laughing as I went. Guess the government was right after all!

You may have noticed that there are no photos in this blog entry. I'll leave it up to you to decide why.

*If anybody from Sam Smiths is reading this - this is parody please don't sue me for libel.

Westerham, General Wolfe and Kitchen Aids

I paid a visit to Westerham last weekend, a quaint little village in Kent not far from Bromley. Whenever I'm going somewhere for the first time I do what every self-respecting beer nerd with a internt connection does – look up what the best pubs are in the area at beerintheevening.com (or BITE.) It's true that the people who leave comments on there prefer a certain type of pub – the more old fashioned, quiet and devoid of anyone under 30 it is the better. Except for pubs in London where all that matters is that the pub serves a ridiculous amount of ale and that there is nobody there in a suit. God help you if you're a landlord and your pub plays loud music, has bright lights or a chav accidentally wanders in and orders a Fosters while a BITE user is there – that's an immediate 1.5/10 score and your pub shunned by beard wielding ale geeks forever.

To be honest all review websites are generally a bit of a minefield, as the majority of reviewers are schizophrenic nutjobs who only award one or five stars to everything. TripAdvisor reviewers are usually the worst, generally consisting of complaining Americas with reviews along the lines of “the room was fabulous, the scenery amazing, the food fantastic but the bell hop handed my bag to me using his right hand which is of course terribly offensive and rude ONE STAR.” In fact some reviewers are so bad Channel 4 did a documentary about TripAdvisor, with tales of downtrodden hotel landlords having to close down their business because of some bonkers reviewer starting a hate campaign because "the toilet flush only lasted five seconds, completely inadequate to clear the enormous turd I'd deposited in there and causing great embarrassment to me and my miserable frigid wife ONE STAR."

I am the destroyer of meats and the creator
of dinners.

But I digress. I've passed through Westerham a few times and there were a couple of pubs that looked nice, and BITE agreed that they were worth visiting. The first stop for me and The Lovely Jemma was the General Wolfe, which is a few minutes walk away from the village centre. Before going there we first had to drag ourselves away from the village cookery shop. Every time I go into a cookery shop I want to buy everything in there. The ridiculous novelty salt and pepper pots no doubt shaped like barnyard animals. The hilarious range of whisks and cutlery no doubt shaped like barnyard animals. And the Kitchen Aids, monstrous blenders from America that could quite easily destroy some barnyard animals. The main reason I would ever consider getting married is so I can put a Kitchen Aid on the wedding list. And a Playstation 3. If I'm going to commit to something for such a long length of time I might as well enjoy myself.

The Gangly Ghoul. Yummy. And spooky.
Yooky, if you will. Or Summy.

Walking into the General Wolfe we were greeted by the landlord, one punter and a trio of dogs. The punter and two of the dogs promptly left leaving just me and TLJ as the only customers left in the pub. The landlord turned out to be a lovely bloke and with the log fire burning away and the pub dog scampering about it was a pleasant atmosphere. The pub is tied with Greene King and the seasonal Gangly Ghoul was on offer. This dark bitter was in top condition and was an excellent pint. The landlord also had a Cains ale on tap but he wasn't going to serve it until the evening when it was ready. A shame as I love a Cains ale and you rarely see them in the South but good on him for not serving it until he was happy it was ready. We tucked into a tasty lunch as locals stopped by for a quick pint. As we were leaving a few regulars were at the bar creating a buzzy atmosphere. A very pleasant pub and I look forward to going back.

We also stopped into the Grasshopper on the Green, a large multi room pub slap bang in the centre of the village, next to the green funnily enough. This was a food orientated pub but they were quite happy for people to just have a drink. Unlike some foody pubs we were even allowed to sit at a table despite not ordering food! There wasn't even a customary evil glare from the staff. I felt truly honoured. They have a ale specially made for them by the local Westerham Brewery. Sadly I've forgotten what is was called but it wasn't a particulary nice pint, which was a shame. The pub was pleasant enough, with a lovely fire burning and the regulars were having a grand old time.

Overall it was a very pleasant afternoon, and the General Wolfe is well worth stopping in to if you're near by.

Hello! I'm the chap who writes the image captions for this blog. If you're reading this, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND HELP. Dave has broken both my knees now and won't let me leave the house. Many thanks.

Brighton Pubs

Hopefully they're all peering curiously at a firing squad.

The Wednesday before last I paid a visit to Brighton. Regular readers of my blog (hello mum!) will understand that I may have been feeling a little bit uncomfortable going down there. This is of course because the place is full of hipsters. I imagine that in the Brighton Pavillion there are hundreds and thousands of pods, steadily spewing out trendy bastards complete with hilariously “ironic” dorky glasses and horrific clothes, usually consisting of a bright suit jacket and trousers too short for their useless legs. They will be a sporting a haircut that looks like the hairdresser suffered a seizure halfway through. Finally they will have an ego so large they are blissfully ignorant to just how twattish they are. You can probably tell I'm not keen on them. However apart from those bastards Brighton is quite a nice little town with some good shops. I hadn't been in a while and never really tried the real ale houses down there so I dragged The Lovely Jemma (TLJ) on a mini ale trail punctuated with trips to the shops to keep her happy.

Some basketmakers.

Things got off to a good start at the Basketmakers Arms, a charming little Fullers house in the North Laines. You know a pub is going to be good when you walk in for the first time and feel like you've been going there for years. The ale selection was standard Fullers fare and I had a fine pint of the Bengal Lancer. The star of the show is the food and everybody in the pub was tucking into the grub. This is not a gastro though, it's very much a pub which just happens to serve excellent home cooked food. The menu was very appealing, and I had a delicious and clearly freshly made burger while TLJ went for the chilli which was “very tasty.”

A walk down the Lanes followed where I ended up buying a vintage suit for a murder mystery evening I was attending in Kent. As I handed over the money I was hit by the crushing realisation that I had somehow become a middle class middle aged man by the age of 30. Luckily I didn't start bawling uncontrollable in front of the jolly member of staff and just carried on my way.

The Bath Arms was the next stop, in a prime location in the Lanes. After dragging TLJ from the shiny jewellery shops outside we ventured inside. This was a lovely Shepeard Neame pub with a cosy, welcoming atmosphere. I went for the WJ King Brighton Best, which is brewed specifically for pubs which are part of the Drink in Brighton scheme. This was a pleasant pint, with a good hoppy aroma and taste followed with a good bitter finish coming through. As I'm a geek I checked the Real Ale Guide on my Android phone (yeah I know) and discovered this pub isn't featured, which honestly surprised me. Despite the somewhat high prices this was a great pub. Maybe it will get a mention next year.

We then moved on to the Evening Star, a Dark Star pub with an excellent reputation with CAMRA members. The pub is basically the ground floor of a house, where the two front rooms have been knocked through. A small bar has been shoehorned into the corner with four hand pumps dedicated to Dark Star brews, and a few extra for guest ales. If I was ever on Grand Designs I would build a house exactly like this one. 

Sadly on this occasion the Dark Star selection was unremarkable, with Hophead, Porter and the Americam Pale Ale available. I opted for a pint of the American Pale Ale which was excellent as ever. This ludicrously hopped pale ale is always a pleasure to drink.

We finished our mini trail off at the Lord Nelson. I had read many good things about this pub but when we walked in I wanted to almost immediately walk out and return to the Evening Star. This place appeared dead compared to the Evening Stars bustling, jovial atmosphere. The tempting selection of Harveys ales convinced me to venture in, ever mindful that TLJ may kill me for bringing her to this quiet, whitewashed den of ale. We found a table in a room at the back of the pub, and I scoped out the exits in case a quick getaway was needed. A table across us was engaging in loud banter which thankfully drowned out whatever the hell I was talking about with TLJ.

The Harveys Dark Mild was on good form and was a tasty, textbook version of a Mild with a very pleasant chocolate/coffee taste coming through. I also tried a pint of the Armada Ale which was a delicious, hoppy treat. As the evening went on the atmosphere started to pick up as more regulars came in and the atmosphere picked up. The regulars were all happy to be there which made the pub a much more pleasant place to be. They also were wearing shirts and weren't spectacularly racist unlike the regulars in my local pub in Edgware (which I never visit.)

I was glad to find out that it is possible to have a pleasant evening in Brighton without having to be surrounded by cloying hipsters, fizzy lager and high prices. I popped my head into the Font, a converted church that used to be a Firkin house but is now a identikit “night spot” complete with booths, funky wallpaper and glass everywhere. I looked at the dolled up girls and boys picking at their food and couldn't see a happy face anywhere. I then thought of the Basketmakers where there was plenty of chatter, plenty of characters and good beer. I wondered why would you spend a night out in a bar spending a lot of money in a place that doesn't really care that you're giving them custom, and where you have to try and be the same as every other customer there. Then I realised the ale must have been kicking in for me to think up this cod philosophy. Good night!

The Red Lion, Apples and Brains.

Last Friday I paid a visit to the Red Lion, a hostelry in-between Carnaby Street and Regent Street. If any non-Londoners are reading this, Carnaby Street is where confused tourists go to relive the swinging sixties scene of London before realising it's long gone and now just full of soulless chain shops and other confused and disappointed tourists. Regent Street has an Apple store. I once set foot in there. I was disappointed for two reasons. First of all, it doesn't sell apples. Secondly, when I asked a gurning chump arrogantly claiming to be a “Genius” if he could direct me to the Granny Smiths or the Golden Delicious if that's all they had he instead directed me to what appeared to be a overpriced novelty computer for children. When I politely pointed out that the mouse was clearly defective as it had a button missing he got visibly upset and asked me to leave.

The Red Lion is a Sam Smiths pub. As mentioned in previous posts I don't really trust Sam Smiths and their cheap beer. Well the ale is cheap – the lager and cider is now around £3 in London making it much the same as other places. I still haven't found the secret to their cheap ale but I believe the Sam Smiths brewery is located beneath a barbershop where the customers keep mysteriously disappearing. I opted for a pint of the Old Brewery Bitter which sadly was only available in keg. It tasted fine with the usual creamy, slightly nutty flavour that accompanies this perfectly functional pint. At £2.11 you can't really complain, although that is steep for Sam Smiths. I once had a pint in Blackpool for £1.30 – and that was last year, not eighties prices! Although you can't accurately tell what decade it is in Blackpool.

A Sam Smith (thanks Google)

The pub was astonishingly busy but as it's a cheap pint in Soho that was to be expected. There are three bars and the staff were coping fairly well although they were a little bit slow. The barmaid was quite attractive though so I forgave her tardiness, which I'm sure she was grateful for. Sadly the rumours of the Alpine Lager disappearing from Sam Smiths pub appears to be true and only the Taddy Lager was available. This is probably a good thing as the Alpine Lager was so named for making whoever drank it shit themselves – much like when looking at a black run in the Alps. A tenuous link but one that is strangely appropriate.

Over the weekend I made the obligatory stop into the Wetherspoons Victoria Station with The Lovely Jemma to try some more of their festival ales, and use up my CAMRA vouchers. The Titanic “Fit Out” was a very tasty bitter from the ever reliable Titanic brewery. This pleasant golden ale has been brewed specifically for the festival and worth a pint if you spot it. I also enjoyed a rather good pint of the Brains “SA Dark.” This pint is a bit odd as the initial flavour is of absolutely nothing. This gives you time to contemplate the universe and your place in it. Then a rather pleasant chocolate flavour comes through and a satisfying dry finish. Another good one to try if you spot it, although the ale festival finishes on the 23^rd October so best make it quick.

Apologies for the lack of the pictures in this update, as I'm useless and forgot to take any. You'll be pleased to know my next update is about some charming pubs in Brighton where again I forgot to take pictures. Sorry.

Wetherspoons - London Victoria Station

A reader tweets:

“Dave y u alwayz at wetherspons victoria lolz”

Actually a reader didn't tweet that. But if somebody was to contact me from the internet I imagine that's what it would look like, if newspaper coverage is anything to go by. I love when newspapers decide to quote Twitter users in a story. Nothing destroys a credible piece faster. Twitter quotes usually crop up in stories about some poor 15 year old who has been stabbed in Arsehole Estates. After the serious comment from the police and experts, there's always a bit on the “flood of tributes on Twitter and Facebook.” This usually means the paper gets to quote gems along the lines of “U woz a dog m8 piece” - @HairyKnockers or “ur ded u mong Rip” - @BITCHESLEAVE. And so it goes. Social media is an amazing tool, bringing people and cultures from all over the world in one medium, allowing you to discover things you may never have learnt from TV or radio, or even a book. But sadly it's also highlighting just how many idiots there are out there.

The "glorious" Weatherspoons Victoria "Bar & Cafe." There's a barmaid who works here who  looks like Rhianna. I think it is her on her day off but others disagree.

But I digress. To answer the fictional readers original question, I'm often at the Wetherspoons Victoria as it's where I wait for The Lovely Jemma to be delivered from leafy South London (or Kent as it's more commonly known.) It's also where I go to cry into a pint when she has to take the train back. As I've mentioned in previous posts, the Wetherspoons Victoria isn't a bad place. The atmosphere is non existent but as it's a station pub it's unlikely anybody is going to have a session there. However the beer is well kept and there's plenty on. The Wetherspoons Ale & Cider Fesitval started on the 5^th October so there was a good selection on when I popped in on Saturday, and on Sunday for the aforementioned weeping.

The Wetherspoons festival has around 40 ales with five from our American cousins, highlighting the recent interest in American craft beers. I tried a pint of “Eclipse” from the Bend Brewery in Oregon. This was a tasty dark ale with a nice roasted chocolate taste. Probably a bit much for a session but it was certainly a pleasant ale. I also tried a pint of Belhaven “St Andrews Ale” a perfectly fine if a little dull copper ale with a hint of sweetness. Finally there was the St Austell “Proper Black.” According to its description in the festival guide this ale is designed to confound the senses. It certainly did but not in a good way. A black IPA, the aroma was very much of a light hoppy golden ale, with a strong citrus aroma. The initial taste was also very much of a light IPA, with a burst of fruity hops. This then made way for the taste of a mild – a mocha flavour that got stronger with the finish. To be honest the two very different flavours didn't blend particularly well. It wasn't undrinkable but it's not a pint I would go for again.

Nachos were ordered, always a gamble in a Wetherspoons. You can't be sure if they'll be fairly respectable, or a plate of stale Doritos which somebody has accidentally spilt some sour cream on to. Luckily they turned out to be OK. We also had a read through the Wetherspoons magazine, which is always worth a chuckle. Amongst the usual letters of old men complaining about the barstaff being too noisy putting glasses into the dishwasher, we came across this heartwarming article about an employee and his brave challenge for charity:

A mighty challenge indeed.

Sixty Babybels in two hours?! He'll never do it. That's an entire Babybel every two minutes!! And those Babybel wrappers can be so difficult to unwrap, just adding to the time! Oh who am I kidding this is the worst charity challenge I've ever seen. If he failed, and judging by the “attempted” in the headline I think he did, I hope he got fired for being supremely incompetent. I once ate ten Jaffa Cakes in a minute and no sick kids benefited from that debacle. Still he does look very pleased with himself in the photo with his tray of cheeses, and he did raise £130, so maybe I'm being a little harsh. But isn't being mean to people I don't know the whole point of the internet?

Until next time.

Junction Tavern beer festival and The Assembly House

The Junction Tavern is a pleasant little gastropub in leafy Kentish Town, an area which is becoming a bit of a real ale hotbed with the Southampton Arms and Pineapple in the vicinity. The Junction Tavern is primarily a gastro and doesn't really directly compete with the aforementioned establishments but they're not afraid to put on some great ales, including local brews. They also hold frequent ale festivals and I paid a visit on a chilly Friday evening with The Lovely Jemma to their latest festival. A good selection was available. The pub has five handpubs and there were an additional ten ales in a temporary area, although not all were ready.

The Hen Harrier. That's a pint

glass. TLJ has grown a lot since

the last update. The nails have

also got even more fabulous.

Things got off to a good start with a Prospect “Panned Out.” This tasty seasonal brew was a very pleasant strong bitter with a little bit of spicyness thrown in which went down well. This was followed by the Bowland “Hen Harrier” which sadly wasn't as good. Although it had a promising fruity aroma, the taste was not spectacular. The fruity, refreshing hops tried to push through but it all tasted a little flat and lifeless. The Cotleigh “Commando Hoofing” was a fairly unremarkable golden ale. It wasn't an awful drink but there wasn't much that stood out. Things finished in good form with the Empire “Kismet” a well hopped aromatic beer with a delightful fruity taste. I also asked for a taste of the “Barmans Ghoulies” by the Tirrel brewery, eliciting giggles from those waiting in line. Sadly the ale lived up to its name with a odd sweaty taste that wasn't very pleasant at all.

The Junction Tavern is a decent place for ale, but its primary business is the gastro side of things which means drinkers are a little short changed. A charming conservatory and the large, airy main room are devoted to diners, meaning drinkers are left with a rather stuffy corridor in-between the main room and conservatory. Still the atmosphere was jovial with a nice mix of punters.

After quaffing a few ales I started to get a bit peckish. The menu in the Junction looked good but expensive, and I fancied something to nibble on before I started gnawing on my own hand. There wasn't a bar food menu available and snacks are limited to bread, olives and cashews. Olives are, of course, Satan's grapes and bread might have been fine for Jesus but I needed something a bit more substantial. I guess chips aren't good enough for the well heeled gentry of Kentish Town. We therefore decided to move on to the Assembly House near Kentish Town station in the hunt for some good old fashioned pub grub.

This Greene King pub has recently been renovated and walking in I got flashbacks of The Bull in Islington. This pub seemed to have attracted every wanker, sorry, hipster in Kentish Town and there were plenty of them. A DJ was in the corner surrounded by her acne riddled friends playing what would no doubt be described as “Phat Beats.” The décor was the usual stripy wallpaper and lamps scattered everywhere that all “trendy” pubs tend to have these days. Trendy is in quotations because no genuine trendy place would ever let me in.

Despite all these factors we decided to stay, mainly because we had the good luck to find an empty table and I'm a lazy man. Five handpumps were on with the usual Greene King suspects (IPA, Abbot Ale etc) available. I opted for a pint of Bonkers Conkers, Greene Kings seasonal ale, which was fine. It's supposed to have a nutty taste but I couldn't really detect it. It was a standard strong bitter that got the job done.

It tastes better than it looks. Honestly.

The food, however, was actually rather good. We had previously been warned by a flame haired Irish lady that the food here was deep fried greasy crap, and to be honest that was exactly what I was craving. We decided to go for the Burger Plate, which was described as six mini burgers with onion rings and chips, for that is what it was. It was presented rather nicely and against all odds tasted pretty good. Pub onion rings usually tend to be as limp and soggy as an audience of men watching the Sex and the City movie but these were crispy, fluffy and tasty. The burgers were also rather good. Just when I thought the night couldn't get any better the DJ started playing Hakuna Matata from the Lion King. I might have to return to this place.

Bricklayers Arms Derbyshire Beer Festival

Last Saturday I paid a visit to the Bricklayers Arms in Putney to participate in their Derbyshire Ale Festival. It was my first visit to the Bricklayers after hearing very good things about it. My Putney friends are always raving about it and the pub has won several CAMRA awards. CAMRA usually recommend good pubs but they do sometimes favour establishments where I'm the only customer who doesn't clearly remember the Callaghan government. Luckily the Bricklayers turned out to be a real charmer,with a surprisingly roomy interior and a pleasant, albeit concrete, garden running down the side. The atmosphere was jolly with a friendly crowd in attendance, a nice mixture of young and old folk although marred slightly by some morris dancers (more on them later.) A dog was also spotted. Sadly there was a lack of a busty wench behind the bar but you can't have everything.

Considering the festival started on Thursday there was still a fair bit of choice available. Things got off to a fine start with a very pleasant half of Spire “Brassed Off.” Thankfully it wasn't made from the ashes of Pete Postlethwaite, and instead was a lovely hopped session ale with a light fruity taste. Perfect for the sunny weather that day. This was followed by Amber “EPA,” a low strength (4%) continental style brew that reminded me of the sort of beer you may get in Belgium, without blowing your head off from alcohol strength. A good taste with a rather fine finish.

While sipping the EPA I stepped outside to watch the morris dancers perform their strange pagan ritual. To be honest they scare me. The fact that they're quite happy to dress up and dance in their disturbing way is a triumph of brainwashing and I bow down to the alien overlords behind it all. These guys were good at what they do (using ritual dance to communicate the aliens mission status to the home planet) but I was annoyed by a young hipster morris dancer wearing oh so cool dorky glasses and smacking his stick in a ironic way. I was tempted to punch him in the face in a ironic fashion but instead I just sipped my pint of EPA while glaring at him. 

Watching them dance in their unnerving way I got to thinking that morris dancers would make a great villain, and that somebody needs to make a film where evil morris dancers hit innocents with their sticks before sucking their souls out, all with the incessant ringing of jangly bells in the background. Actually on second thoughts they best not do that or I'll never sleep again. Eventually I had to stop watching the spectacle before I too was drawn into the hive mind and became a morris dancer myself. 

Plenty of further half pints were drunk. Ales that stood out were Muirhouse “Magnum Mild” which wasn't part of the festival but was one of the ales on one of the twelve(!) handpumps This was a great example of a mild with a fine coffee flavour with chocolate undertones. Very suppable. The Thornbridge “Seaforth” stood out for the wrong reasons – sadly this was probably the most disappointing brew I've had from the usually excellent Thornbridge brewery. A 5.9% IPA it had a rather average, even boring flavour and aroma. Thornbridge have been on a good run recently so I felt a bit let down.

I foolishly turned my back on the dancers at one point, and when I turned back round they were IN THE BUILDING.

Thankfully the Thornbridge “Kipling” came on later in the day and was in fine form. A combination of the previous ales and the excitement of seeing Kipling did unfortunately make me run around the pub like a twat yelling at my mates “The Kipling is on! The Kipling is on! You must drink!” over and over again. Those who did try it agreed that this fantastic hoppy ale with a distinct grapefruit flavour was a fine pint. Although they may have been saying that out of fear of the crazed look in my eyes.

After that my afternoon at the pub came to an end. A fine time all round and I will certainly be returning to the Bricklayers in the future. Hopefully without the morris dancers this time. I can still hear the jingling of bells when I sleep. They're out there. Waiting for me.

Bengal Lancer and Walt Disney World

One day I'll invest in a decent camera

Bengal Lancer is a relatively new India Pale Ale brewed by Fullers. I've had the cask version a few times and have always enjoyed its distinctive, rather understated hoppy taste. It's quite a fine example of a IPA although at 5% you have to be careful with it. I recently enjoyed the bottled version for the first time. It's brewed slightly stronger at 5.3% although the flavour remains unchanged. The subtle hops are there and there's a rather pleasant if faint spiciness to the finish. A fine ale and well worth a tipple in both cask and bottle form.

One thing Bengal Lancer has going for it is a pretty cool name. As I'm a little bit pathetic I sometimes like to think up names for ale, especially if it involves a really terrible pun. I must warn you now that I'm going to go into a long, slightly pointless story. I can't promise you'll get any worth out of it. But you may as well read on as I doubt you have anything better to do.

Hooray for Disney!
Faces blurred to protect the innocent.

The best ale name I ever thought up was at the Epcot theme park in Walt Disney World. At the back of Epcot Disney have faithfully recreated eleven countries of the world. They're really just oversize, three dimensional tourist brochures to get confused Americans to visit each country for real, but they are fun. My favourite area is the cafe in the Moroccan pavilion. Forget Space Mountain or the Tower of Terror, there's nothing more entertaining than watching confused Americans work out how to pronounce “schwarma” and then work out what the hell a “sch-a-mar” is. Most of them give up and end up going to the French or German pavilion next door. Disney should just admit defeat and call it "Slicey spicy meats in sauce" to avoid the hassle.

To be fair although Americans get a bad rap for not knowing about anything outside their own country or even their own state, world ignorance is rife in the UK as well. I was once at the top of the Blackpool Tower. Behind me I heard a lady explain to her hubby how it looked a bit like the Eiffel Tower. He responded in that blissfully ignorant way that only stupid people can pull off “Eiffel Tower, that in Blackpool?” Sadly the police didn't immediately show up, say “I'm sorry” and then euthanise the poor bugger for the good of the country. All I could do was shake my head and tut slightly, safe in the knowledge that the Eifell Tower is actually in Paris, Las Vegas.

Getting back to the original subject of my greatest ever ale name, every country in the World Showcase has a bar serving the local brews. Sadly I couldn't indulge as I was driving. It was however amusing watching downtrodden parents deal with the problem of being sunburnt, harassed and on the edge of bankruptcy by getting absolutely rat arsed. As I got to the China pavilion the best ale name I had ever thought up was born. I figured that if Disney ever imported a ruby red beer brewed in China, they could call it Mulan Rouge.

There you go. Three paragraphs to get to probably the worst pun you've ever read. I apologise profusely and can promise you the next entry will actually be informative and possibly even humorous. It's all about the Derbyshire Ale Festival at The Bricklayers Arms so please do read it when I actually get round to typing it up and putting it online! Thanks.

Edgware, Harvesters and Betty Stoggs

For my sins I live in a town called Edgware in North London. Edgware is pretty much like every other faceless commuter town on the outskirts of Zone 5. Its only notable feature is that it's the last stop on the Northern underground line. This means every time I take the tube home I get to hear the automated voice say “This train terminates at Edgware” which makes me think Edgware is so depressing even the trains want to end it all once they get there. To be fair the high street isn't too bad with a fair mix of chains and independent restaurants and shops. Sadly a Cash Converters has recently opened in place of a Pizza Hut, perhaps reflecting the downturn in Edgwares fortunes in the past few years from “slightly shit” to “quite shit.” Still economy wise Edgware is probably doing better than Italy.

Great pun there guys (does it even
count as a pun?!)

One thing Edgware is severely lacking is a decent boozer. The only pub on the high street, The Edge of Town has an admirable score of 1.6/10 on beerintheevening. Needless to say I've never been in there. It looks like the sort of place which would be filled with racists, sexists and xenophobes. Every time I've got a glimpse inside my assumptions appear to be correct, at least about the racists and sexists. I'll admit I'm not sure what “xenophobe” means. I just wanted to sound clever by using some stupid foreign word that I don't really like. There is another pub on the high street, The Railway, which unfortunately has been closed for years.

It's sad that in my formative years there wasn't a nice friendly pub to waste my youth in. I'd sometimes meet my mates at the Harvester for a pint which is not only desperate but terribly middle class. I'd sit there enjoying my pint of fizzy Fosters (I was young OK) while next to me sat young parents who had realised they had ruined the rest of their lives as they fed spitroast chicken to their screaming, puking loinspawn. Speaking of vomit I once puked so hard in the Harvesters toilets that vom shot out my nose, ears and possibly my eyeballs. As I surveyed the horrific state of the cubicle I had to admire that the body could hold so much rancid fluid, before desperately starting to panic about how I could clear this disgusting mess up. In the end I did the right thing: I cleaned up my trousers to look vaguely presentable before darting out of the place.

The rest of the crowd was usually the type of people who would consider a visit to the Harvester “a treat.” You can see the glee in their eyes and the stomach sticking out their T-Shirt as the bored 17 year old server asks “Have you been to a Harvester before?” The correct answer to this by the way is to shout out “SALAD BAR!” before grabbing a bowl and loading it full of saggy tomatoes and crinkly lettuce, and piling on the tasty but probably artery destroying salad dressings.

But I digress. This is a beer blog so I should probably mention something about ale. Last Saturday I ended up in the Wetherspoons in Victoria Station while I was waiting for The Lovely Jemma to be delivered. For a station pub it's not too shabby. The inside may have all the atmosphere of a tramps fart and the clientèle look like they've probably seen better days, possibly back when you could buy a pint of Watney's Special Mild for 2d. However the ale on offer is usually quite good, and sometimes very good. I enjoyed a lovely pint of Skinners “Betty Stoggs,” a warm, charming Cornish ale. This has won awards from CAMRA and rightly so, with a delicious malty taste and a fine finish. A pleasure to drink, and the pub isn't a bad place for a tipple if you find yourself stuck waiting for a train.

The Fellow and The Bull.

If you asked my friend(s) to describe me one word they wouldn't use is “trendy.” Although I am stunningly handsome, have a wonderful sense of humour and am incredibly modest, I'm not really a man of trendy tastes. By trendy I mean, of course, a bit wanky. So whenever I find myself in a trendy pub, or even worse, a “bar” I tend to get a bit scared and sweaty. I also tend to end up babbling in a confused manner, saying things such as “HOW MUCH WAS THAT PINT?!” and “SERIOUSLY HOW MUCH?!” Luckily I don't usually end up anywhere “cool” or “hip,” I'm happy to dwell in comfortable cosy pubs supping a pint while idly watching a old codger lose countless pounds on the Deal or No Deal quiz machine. Before losing countless pound coins myself in that bastard machine.

Plenty of gastro but where's the pub?

Sometimes however sacrifices must be made and on Friday I ended going out with some work mates to The Fellow in Kings Cross. I don't think this place can really call itself a pub. The ground floor is pretty much given entirely to diners. There's a small corner in the back for anybody who wants to entertain the ridiculous notion of actually having a pint and a chat in a pub. Upstairs is a hot and dank bar complete with DJ and a pleasant roof terrace which is sadly rather small and packed full of smokers.

Things got to a bad start when I ordered a Sharp's “Doom Bar” and was charged £3.70. An utterly bonkers price for a fairly average 4% pint. The ale was OK although not spectacular and certainly not worth what they were charging. As a Londoner I made a point to complain about the price to everybody except the bar staff and manager. There was also Hook Norton “Old Hooky” but I was afraid to order that in case it required a credit check and two character references before a pint would be poured and payment made. After two pints I'd had enough of the hot room and overpriced beer and made a swift exit for the Euston Tap where I enjoyed a fabulous pint of Arbor “Inferiority Complex” mild at a more reasonable £3.10. This was a top notch pint with the wonderful coffee/chocolatey flavours you get from a good mild. The taste may have been heightened by the fact that I was just happy to get out of The Fellow.

Saturday I was out in Islington with The Lovely Jemma and friends and paid a visit to The Bull, which I hadn't been to before. From the outside I was worried it would be another The Fellow as the place looked far to cool for school, had a DJ and appeared to be full of your typical Islington customer (wankers.) Incidentally as I type this Spotify has decided to play the Beach Boys “I Just Wasn't Made For These Times.” I think it's trying to tell me something.

A good pint and AMAZING NAILS. Look at them. 

How did they get  that way. 

It's amazing what science can do these days

Despite my initial fears that there would be no ales The Bull had four handpumps on. I had a rather well kept Brakspeare “Oxford Gold” in a proper ale glass and everything. This lightly hopped beer had a pleasant fruity taste and a healthy citrus aroma. Very suppable and it helped to distract me from the awfulness of the DJ and the clientèle. Overall The Bull confounded my expectations and wasn't too bad at all. Maybe I shouldn't tar all trendy bars with the same brush. But I probably will because I never seem to learn.

Old Thameside Inn, The Harp and high London prices.

A meagre attempt at a arty photo here. I call it DoorMirrorStepsBEER.

London is many things but one thing it really can't be described as is cheap. There may be thousands of pub in this filthy but charming city but you'll be lucky to find a pint of bitter for less than £2.80. It's even worse for fizzy larger drinkers as most pubs take advantage of their low intelligence by charging astronomical sums for cheap piss (also known as Peroni or San Miguel.) The only place you can get a cheapish pint is in a Sam Smiths pub but to be quite honest I don't trust a pint that costs under £2. How do they make it so much cheaper than other beers? There must be some terrible secret to the brewing process. I'm looking forward to the day they create a new brew called “Taddy Soylent Green” to prove all my fears correct.

If the pub you're visiting happens to have a great location expect to pay even more over the odds for what is usually substandard beer. For example the pub I ended up at last Thursday – the Old Thameside Inn near London Bridge. You can't fault the location, right on the bank of the Thames with a fine view of the City. As it's a Nicholsons pub there is usually a fair selection of ales on, although not always in the best condition. The prices, however, are ridiculous. A bottle of Rekorderlig cider (don't worry it was for a lady) cost £4.90. For 20p less I could buy a large McChicken Sandwich meal or a small Romanian child. A substandard pint of Harviestoun “American IPA” was an incredible £3.70. Actually when I say substandard I mean disgusting. I'm not sure if the beer was off or if it's just not a good ale but it did not taste good. It didn't have the vinegar taste you get from an off pint but it was a little sour with a unpleasant aftertaste.

I would of asked for another ale if it wasn't for the fact that the service was appalling. I was afraid I would have to wait until Friday to actually get my replacement pint. I should probably give the IPA a go at another Nicholsons (apparently it's brewed exclusive for them) but I'm not sure I'll bother.

Not bad for a Sunday evening

This is the "Grandstand" (I think)
modelled by The Lovely Jemma.
Scary lady picture in the
background for dramatic effect

Things were better on Sunday where I ended up at The Harp in Covent Garden, a favourite of mine. This small boozer always attract an eclectic crowd of confused tourists, ale drinkers, students and even some normal everyday folk just out for a pint. No matter how busy this place gets, and it's usually very busy, you always get served quickly and the ale is always in good condition. You can't really ask for more from a pub. I had a lovely pint of the Twickenham Brewery “Grandstand,” a nicely hopped ale with a delicious and refreshing finish. This was followed by the Dark Star “Partridge”, a delicious dark bitter with a good malty tone that was a delight to drink. The prices in The Harp aren't silly (for London) either – about £3.30 a pint. Of course that's still a price that would make a northerner shout out “You what pet?!” before snorting a whippet out his nose in shock and disgust. But as a Londoner I quietly put up with it before posting snide remarks about high prices on a blog. Hooray for the internet!

Return to the Tap

I actually remembered to take photos! Hooray!

A welcome return to the Euston Tap last week. Plenty of ales were on offer as always, and as it wasn't raining there was plenty of punters as well. Euston Tap is a fabulous place but as it's located near the station it does tend to attract a varied crowd. Last weeks crazy was a sozzled elder Irishman who managed to grab my friend Tony's arm and started mumbling unintelligibly to him. Thankfully our ales were served just in time to make a hasty exit outside before the tales of the war or famine started. Sadly we managed to walk straight into the path of a couple of smackheads having an argument. I didn't catch what the argument was about but despite my hopes I doubt it was whether F. Murray Abraham provided an accurate representation of Salieri in the hit movie Amadeus. Luckily they departed fairly sharpish and we could enjoy our pints in the relative peace of Euston bus station.

I do love this place.

Things got off to a good start with the Thornbridge “Browne.” The blackboard inside the pub helpfully pointed out this is a dark brown ale. This is the newest beer from the exciting Thronbridge brewery, in fact it was only launched on the 8^th August. It was a delicious beer, with a good combination of light fruity flavours, a nice bitterness and a satisfying caramel finish. Sadly things went downhill with the second pint, the WJ King “Brighton Best.” This ale was bland, bland, bland. I can barely remember the taste except that it had a faint bitterness. There was no discernible flavours. A rare duffer from the Tap, I don't know if it was just a poor beer or in poor condition (I suspect the former.)

I still think it looks like a urinal (the bar, not the young lady.)

Thankfully things were quickly redeemed by the Thornbridge “Kipling.” This was the first time I've tried Kipling and what a spectacular ale it was. Superb grapefruit and citrus flavours come through with a tremendous crisp finish. Apparently the flavours come from a special hop from New Zealand which only Thornbridge use at the moment. Thornbridge market it as a South Pacific ale which probably explains why immediately after drinking I had the urge to wash a man out of my hair before singing a lament about dames and how there is nothing else like them. A pleasure to drink. Me and Tony both agreed it was one of the finest pints we have ever had and also that I should never sing again.

Sunday I paid a visit to another Wetherspoons. The Metropolitan is a functional boozer next door to Baker Street station. The rather grand main room apparently used to be a London Underground recruitment centre. Sadly after my photo frenzy at the Euston Tap I completely forgot to take photos of this pub. Instead I present to you an accurate representation of a Wetherspoons drinker courtesy of the awesome Wangleberry:

This will be me in 20 years time. Oh who am I kidding this will be me next week.

First up was the Otter “Amber” - a perfectly pleasant amber ale with a light bitter taste and a refreshing finish. The other ales on offer were mainly from Adnams. I always find Adnams a little disappointing. Their Bitter just isn't a very pleasant drink with a heavy flavour and a weird chemical after-taste. The Broadside is just plain disgusting. There were a couple of Adnams I hadn't tried before so I gave them a go. “Ghost Ship” was a pale ale which in true Adnams style didn't quite hit the mark. Despite the initial refreshing taste, a rather unpleasant chemical after-taste kicks in. This may have been due to the condition of the ale rather than the beer itself but I wasn't impressed.



I did remember to take one photo. Here's the Otter Amber
hand modelled by The Lovely Jemma.

However my world was turned upside down as I tried a pint of the Adnams “Explorer.” Amazingly this pint was actually very pleasant. The beer had a citrus and flowery nose, and this was followed with a refreshing citrus taste. There was even a nice crisp finish with no unpleasant after-taste. I was so surprised by how much I enjoyed this beer that I expected a cat to start tap dancing on the bar and the surly European bar staff to start smiling as the walls of reality came crushing down around me. Luckily it wasn't all a beautiful dream and Adnams had actually produced a decent pint. On that happy note I shall bid you goodbye. Have a great evening and love to the wife and kids.