Outskirts of the City (of London)

I recently had some free time on a weekday around Holborn and Cannon Street. This gave me the oppotunity to visit some pubs that I'd been meaning to visit but never had the chance because they're either closed on weekends or it would involve going on a weeknight when the pubs are filled with suited, loud City men barking at each other and into iPhones while the three women unfortunate to be there look bored beyond tears. I got to visit some lovely pubs but the downside is that I became the "single bloke sipping halves while checking in to Untappd" guy, a stereotype which seems to be getting more and more hated on the interwebs. Well screw it, I enjoyed myself anyway.

A happy punter at the
Seven Stars

First up was the Seven Stars, a small boozer on a side street off Chancery Lane. Located among the courts and barristers chambers, this pub has a legal theme inside. Even the pub cat joins in the fun, wearing a rather fetching ruff while enjoying a fuss from the doting landlady. I enjoyed a half of Topaz Gold from Adnams, which was a refreshing golden ale with a good dry finish, and was in decent form. I perched on a stool and the cat joined me on the bar for a few minutes, enjoying some treats from the cat bowls placed there. On a Tuesday afternoon the pub was quiet and peaceful, but I imagine this small place can get quite packed on a Friday night. Overall I thought it was a lovely little boozer and I'd be happy to go back.

Next up was the Devereux, a Taylor Walker pub down a side alley off Fleet Street. Deceptively spacious inside, there were around five ales on offer. I tried the house ale, Taylor Walker 1730 brewed by the Westerham Brewery, who seem to be doing rather well for themselves. There's the chance it's a rebadged beer, but it was a tasty, well hopped and very suppable session bitter. I sat in one of the booths were my seat had a weird constant vibration - a little bit exciting at the start but it got unneverving after a while. Generally this was a rather nondescript pub, fine for a pint after work if you're nearby but not worth making a special trip for.

Just around the corner from the Deveraux is the Edgar Wallace. Walking in there were a small collection of besuited customers enjoying sandwiches. Notices on the tables asks customers not to use the pub as a meeting room or to use their mobiles - which tells you all about the potential clientèle in this part of London. I ended up having a small taster of around four beers courtesy of the friendly barman, and settled on the Raspberry Blone from Saltaire Brewery. I'm not usually a fan of fruit beers but this was rather good, with the sweet raspberry notes making way to more traditional bitter flavours. I was going to order a half but a pint was poured for me before I could say anything, and not wanting to appear rude I drank it all. Good job it was a pretty tasty beer. I had a quick look upstairs which was more airy than the traditional, wood boarded downstairs, and sporting a large collection of Edgar Wallace novels on bookshelves at the back. A nice little pub and definitely the pub I would choose to have a drink in if I was in the area.

A quick jaunt on the District Line and I was in Leadenhall Market, to visit a pub I'd been meaning to go to for a long time, but as it's only open weekdays and I don't fancy being crammed in with the City's finest on a weekday evening. Old Tom's Bar is a basement bar, and despite the traditional look from outside it was surprisingly modern inside. There were a fair few beers on keg and in bottles, but sadly the cask selection was limited to Youngs Special or Bitter. I went for the Bitter which was below par. No fault of the pub, it's just not a very exciting beer. There was a funky vibe to the place, and the mix of traditional tiling with more modern fixtures worked quite well. It was the busiest of the pubs I'd visited by far, with a lot of punters enjoying lunch. I quite liked the pub - just a shame that the (cask) beer selection was a bit boring on my visit.

Last up is a place that couldn't possibly be criticised for having a boring beer selection, the Pelt Trader which is down the side of Cannon Street station. Owned by the same guys as the Euston Tap and Holborn Whippet, the bar is similarly set up with a "wall of beer," with taps protruding from the large back wall behind the bar dispensing a wide range of ales. I went for a half of Moor Envy and found a table in the round alcoves to the side of the room. I've walked past this place plenty of times in the rush hour and it always looks horrifically crammed, which has put me off visiting before. But as the place doesn't serve much in the way of food with only pizza on offer, it was nice and quiet in here at lunchtime.

I boarded the train from Cannon Street back home tipsy and quite satisfied - I'd be happy having a pint in any of these pubs but the Seven Stars won out for me, although I'd be interested to see just how busy and potentially uncomfortable it gets in the evenings. Until next time!

The Paternoster - A surprise in the City

I work near the City of London, otherwise known as the "Square Mile", the financial enclave smack bang in the middle of London. Working near there has its perks ,as there are countless bars, restaurants, and grand buildings many with a rich history. One of the downsides however is the people working inside these buildings. City workers are generally acknowledged by the public and the press as being trumped up, braying wankers. From what I can tell whenever I have the misfortune to venture into a City bar, that is completely true. A city bar is usually a miserable experience of being surrounded by people more interested in their iPhones than their peers, necking back expensive pints of Peroni or Budvar (the new Stella and Carling) and a sweaty air of desperation, sexism and misogyny about the whole sorry affair.

Last Friday I was due to meet up with some ex-colleagues in St Paul's which is smack bang in the middle of the city. I was preparing for the worse. But something miraculous happened - I found a pub in the city that wasn't full of twunks. The Paternoster is just behind St Pauls, with Merrill Lynch, Bank of America, and other bastions of twatness nearby. As it was a balmy summer evening I was expecting the worse, the streets overflowing with pinstriped moneybots, bleating about their latest swindling of the British public while eyeing up passing "totty" with their piggy eyes. As I walked past each soulless city pub on my way to the Paternoster the clientele were certainly living up to the stereotype.

But the Paternosrer, my ultimate destination, was a bit different. This Young's pub wasn't too busy, and the people who were there seemed fairly normal. Fairly young, not a pinstripe in sight, no braying, just a good mixed crowd. Hooray! Looks like this is the place the decent people in the City go to - which probably explains why it was only half full on a pleasant Friday night. A full selection of Young's beer were on offer. I'm not a fan so I avoided most of them, but I did try the Hummingbird, purely because I'd never had it before. Turns out I wasn't missing much. Despite promising tropical notes this was a fairly bog standard pale ale and one pint was enough. I spent the rest of the evening sticking to the guest ale, Sambrooks Wandle, which was in good form with some great crisp bitter notes coming through.

A standard pub menu was available and we sampled a sausage platter and plougmans platter, both of them meeting the requirements of being tasty yet horrifically bad for you. A bowl of "sharing" chips was a bit of a piss take priced at £9.95, but they were good quality chips at least. Prices were standard for the City - £4.14 for my pint of Hummingbird, which would of made any passing Northerner pass out in shock. But it was so refreshing to find a halfway decent pub in the City (that isn't tiny or smells a bit funny) that I could put up with the prices. Worth a visit.

My next update will definitely be on Sunday - I promise.

Cittie of Yorke, London

The Cittie of Yorke is a grand old Sam Smiths pub in Holborn on the outskirts of the City of London, the financial heart of the capital. It's also Google Chrome's spellcheck worst nightmare: it knows the words in the pubs name are spelt incorrectly and by gum it wants to correct them! The pubs location means two things, firstly it's full of braying chaps in suits and secondly Sam Smiths have cottoned on that Londoners and confused tourists will pay anything for a beer and have jacked up the prices accordingly. Living in London has brainwashed me so much it's come to the point where I say "£3.40 for a pint of Old Brewery Bitter, that's not bad" rather than going "You're having a laugh mate!" and immediately leaving the pub for the nearest Tesco's and stocking up on the cheapest booze I can find.

The main hall of the Cittie of Yorke is a dramatic place for a drink, featuring a high vaulted ceiling, barrels above drinkers lining the sides of the walls and cosy little booths down one side of the hall. There's a plainer room at the front of the pub and a cosy cellar as well. Despite the place looking really old and impressing every American who visits, the main hall was apparently rebuilt in 1924, although a pub has supposedly stood on the spot since the fifteenth Century. But it seems just about every building in London claims to have had a similar business on its spot since the fifteenth Century, except perhaps PC World and Ryman the Stationer, so I don't know how much truth there is to the claim.

Being a Sam Smith's pub the Cittie of Yorke only serves the Sam Smiths range, even down to the soft drinks and crisps. I like to think that Sam Smiths is the original "craft" brewery, doing their own takes on many different beer styles and the niggling feeling that they think all the big brewer's stuff is crap and theirs is much better. Basically they're BrewDog but Sam Smiths have been doing it since 1758. Beer wise I started off with a pint of the Sovereign Bitter. This was on keg and I was worried that by drinking this my CAMRA card would spontaneously burst into flames in my wallet and ruin my trousers. The beer tasted fine, but being keg it did have a little artificial, chemical flavour. Overall though it was drinkable. The Old Brewery Bitter was on cask and was in good nick, and although this reliable bitter is never going to set taste buds alight it was comforting on this chilly winters eve.

I've been through Sam Smiths draught range many times, especially in my student days back when the London outlets were cheap and the prices perfectly suited my budget. As I am now grown up and employed I thought I would treat myself to some of their bottled beers. I ordered a Winter Welcome Ale and a bag of pork scratchings. The cold but efficient barmaid asked for an amount around the £7.50 mark. "How much was the beer?!" I asked in befuddlement. "£6." I came over a little faint but somehow managed to remain standing upright. But soon the enormity sank in. SIX POUNDS FOR A BEER IN A SAM SMITHS PUB. Why didn't I ask for the price before ordering?! The beer had better be bloody good and luckily it wasn't to bad. Slightly sweet with caramel notes this went down well. But not six pounds well.

Somehow I didn't learn my lesson and I went for another bottled beer, this time the Nut Brown Ale. There's not more to stay except this was exactly as what was described on the label and it reminded me of this Brass Eye skit:

I finally finished with a Pale Ale which was pretty good, light and hoppy and a pleasure to drink. Both these bottles were £5.50 so all in all I spent £17 on three beers in a Sam Smiths pub. And this is why the world is now a horrible place to be in. I don't often get political but Mr Cameron if you're reading this, forget about minimum alcohol pricing and all that malarkey. Instead please embark on a campaign to make Sam Smiths in London cheap again. Thanks. And also stop reading this blog you've got more important things to do.

Counting House, City of London and Red Lion, Bromley

I'm not a huge fan of drinking in London's Square Mile. For readers not familiar, the Square Mile is the financial centre of London, where greed driven looneys come together to wear seizure inducing stripy suits and piss away other peoples money. The last time I went for a drink in a bar near Moorgate, they had the cheek to charge £5 for a pint of Peroni, and £4 for a pint of so-so Doom Bar. I was surrounded by braying gents who had a better relationship with their Blackberry than the colleagues around them. What did people do in awkward social situations before smartphones came along? All across London bars are filled with co-workers desperately eeking out small talk before eventually giving up and retreating to the comforting glow of their iPhone screen. Did co-workers just use to stand around looking so awkward that one of them would eventually expire, giving the others something to talk about?

If you look hard enough you will find some pubs in the square mile that aren't filled with punters with more money than they know what to do with paying ludicrous amounts of money for swill and piss (or San Miguel to use its trading name.) The Counting House near Bank station is one of them. This is a large two floor and rather grandiose Fullers pub which used to be a branch of Natwest. It's an impressive space with an imposing domed roof. Rammed with the more down to earth city workers it has a good pubby atmosphere. Ale wise the large bar serves the full Fullers selection and not much else, I couldn't see any guest ales. I went for a couple of pints of Chiswick, a solid best bitter which always manages to hit the spot, thanks to its subtle fruity flavour which flourishes in the finish.

The striking interior of the Counting House. Photo from the Fullers website. I could never
take a photo this good.

As an Ale and Pie house I thought I may as well have a pie, and I tried the house pie which was very good and packed full of steak with a good portion of mash. Although the large space and high ceiling makes for a noisy pub, there's no blaring music which makes it fine to hold a conversation. The noise level is high enough that you don't have to listen to the absolute nonsense the suited and booted clan are no doubt wittering on about as they slowly bankrupt our country into the ground. There are a coupler of quiet nooks and crannies as well, especially on the upper level.

I have been house hunting the past few months. House hunting would be a great experience if it didn't involve estate agents. It amazes me just how much of a chancer occupation being an estate agent is. There is no qualification or entry requirement for being one, these people are just winging it and pulling selling prices for a pile of second hand bricks out of thin air. It's getting depressing on how many unkempt, unloved houses which are supposedly a "the perfect first time buyer home" I've viewed, where the agent has convinced the poor seller that the hole they're living in is worth a grossly overestimated sum of money. Anything in reasonable condition and sensibly priced is off the market in a matter of days. I know I'm not saying anything new but it is depressing trying to buy a house in London.

Me and the Lovely Jemma viewed a house in Bromley North. I knew we'd never buy the place as it was the size of a postage stamp, but I really like the area. The fact that there are four good quality pubs and a Chinese takeaway had no influence on this decision at all. When we viewed the house I could barely fit inside. I felt like I was Alice in Wonderland and I'd taken a bite of the "Eat Me" cake. My head was touching the ceiling in all the rooms upstairs. It was a glorified dolls house. We didn't make an offer but it apparently sold. I've no idea if it went for the asking price of £220,000 but I've got a horrible feeling it wasn't far off.

No picture of the Red Lion so here's a picture of
"Spongebob  Squarepants" which
The Lovely Jemma put together at
Blackpool Pleasure Beach.

Out of the four pubs the Red Lion is probably the best. This is a friendly little boozer which is always a pleasure to visit. Although small it's got a good bit of character, with a large bookshelf against one wall bursting with books. The landlord knows how to keep an ale and I enjoyed a delicious pint of Caledonian Flying Scotsman. This was a pretty good specimen of a best bitter with a hearty hoppy flavour. The pub has won CAMRA awards in the past and it deserves them. A good place to stop by if you're in the area.

You may have noticed I've been reliable about what drinks I had at each pub. That's thanks to "Untappd" which I've recently downloaded for my Android phone. It allows you to record what you've drunk, where you had it, and see what other people thought of the ale. Well worth downloading!