Beer festivals a go go - CAMRA Great British Beer Festival 2013 and Woodies, New Malden

Last week was a good time for drinking copious amounts of ale. First up was a visit to the CAMRA Great British Beer Festival 2013. This is the second time I've visited the festival at Olympia, and it's a much more pleasant space than its former home at the dark, dank Earl Courts. The light airy building is very welcoming and the lay out this year was great, with the bars spaced out nicely and avoiding the cramped conditions that build up as the day goes on. The only downside is that there never seems to be enough seating, and as I get older and creakier this is getting more important for me. To be fair most of the patrons who did grab a seat were probably way past creaking territory and were approaching snapping and cracking, but it would have been nice to have more places to rest my tired feet and beery head.

The only picture I took at the festival and it's not even indoors. Useless.

The Championship beer of Britain, announced at the festival, was the 1872 Porter from the Elland brewery. I managed to grab a sample and although it's a very solid porter, with a great malt start and a fruity finish, it felt a bit of a safe bet for a championship beer. With so many exciting breweries and beers appearing over the past couple of years, it's surprising that CAMRA claim that the best ale of the year is something that feels decidedly old fashioned. Maybe CAMRA are rebelling against the craft ale scene with this choice or maybe there's no agenda at all. Who knows?! Certainly not me. Not going to stop me from blogging about it though.

As usual there was an excellent selection of ales on offer and I sampled a fair few of them. Highlights included the Chocolate and Vanilla Stout from Titanic which was an excellent ale, with a wonderful sweet aroma leading to a perfect balance of sweetness and burnt hops.The Triple Chocoholic from Saltaire was another winner, with wonderful, subtle chocolate flavours and a good, long dry finish. Fine stuff all round. The American section was very busy, as it has been at past festivals, and by the time I got there there wasn't a lot of choice left. I tried a half of the Snake Dog IPA from Flying Dog which was a very solid American pale with strong hoppy flavours, but like a lot of American beers it was very boozy (7.3%) - almost unnecessarily so.

There were a couple of duffers. Sharp's Own from Sharps was a rather insipid effort at a golden ale, with a rather limp and watery taste that all beers from InBev seem to suffer from these days. It was still passable, and nothing like the horror of A-pork-alypse from Brains. A porter with bacon flavour added, it tasted exactly like taking a sip of a sub standard porter and then shoving bacon fries into your gob while still swallowing your booze. It wasn't completely horrible and after one sip I didn't start vomiting all over the floor while CAMRA stewards desperately threw sand on the floor in an effort to soak up my technicolour stream, but it wasn't a very pleasurable ale. Much like casting Ashton Kutcher as Steve Jobs, it was a brave but ultimately stupid effort.

Despite a couple of iffy beers I had a great time at the festival and it's probably the best one I've been to in the last six years or so. The food on offer was tremendous and I managed to get through a pork pie, scotch egg, wild boar burger, pork scratchings and seafood medley. In case you're wondering I didn't eat it all at the same time, had I done so I think I would have tested the very limits of how much vomit one man can produce.

The crazy decor at Woodies.

On Saturday I paid a visit to another beer festival, this time at Woodies in New Malden in SW London. Woodies is a former sports hall turned into a pub. Walking in you're bombarded with sports memorabilia everywhere, plastered on the floor, walls and ceiling. There's also a lot of funeral programmes (presumably of patrons past) dotted about, which seemed a bit morbid. Overall though it's all very eclectic and there was a jolly atmosphere. There were plenty of tasty ales on offer. Park Life from Windsor and Eton was a good start, a light hoppy session beer that I would be quite happy to drink all day. 80 Shilling from Dark Star was a fine attempt at a dark Scottish ale, with a strong malty flavour and undertones of orange peel. Good stuff.

The American Pale Ale by Clarence & Fredericks is probably one of the best things to come out of Croydon, where the brewers are based. Good hoppy flavours and floral notes made this a solid attempt at a pale ale. Frankly I was amazed the beer made it to the festival at all and the delivery wasn't hijacked by a gang of Croydon's drug fuelled crazies, or some bored kids. Finally, Good Health from Goody Ales was a solid golden ale sporting a nice dry finish, and a slight hint of Tim Brooke-Taylor.

A petting zoo was there for the day so I got to laugh at some sheep, ducks and goats, the primary reason for the existence of any petting zoo. I gave a wide berth to the geese though as I didn't fancy running, screaming, beers in hand, being chased by the orange beaked, beady eyed, honking bastards as they try to nip my legs into pieces one peck at a time. The day was further sullied by the arrival of my least favourite amateur paganists, the hated and sinister Morris Dancers. Thankfully this troupe, although enthusiastic, weren't very good, so I was pretty sure their bizarre ritual wasn't going to resurrect any ancient Pagan Gods this time.

My camera spontaneously combusted shortly after this photo was taken.

I had a great time in Woodies despite the Morris Dancers and if it wasn't located in what appeared to be the Twilight Zone I'd make more regular visits there. If you happen to be in the New Malden area it's well worth stopping by the place for a drink or five.

Next update will be the conclusion of my jaunt around Preston. I've also made a recent visit to Bath which I'll no doubt be blabbering on about. See you soon!

The Bull's Head and the Queens Head, Chislehurst

If you've never heard of Chislehurst, it's basically the Hampstead of South London. If you've never heard of or been to Hampstead, it's a ludicrously expensive little alcove of North London, filled with "boutique" outlets, antique shops and other assorted nonsense frequented by the rich unemployed who have nothing to do but look at expensive tat all day. There's also a handful of pubs, all of which require you to have a credit check before buying a beer and handing over the deeds to your house before buying a gin and tonic. There was a Wetherspoons in Hampstead once for the more "unwashed" visitor but sadly it shut down.

Chislehurst doesn't feel as rich as Hampstead but it does have the gentle air of a place where money probably isn't an issue for most of its residents. There are a decent number of pubs in the area. I've only managed to visit three pubs so far, after reading on the internet on what would be the best bet for a pint of decent ale. I'm not one for spontaneity. Just ask anybody who has had to visit a theme park with me, as every ride, meal and toilet break is planned to the last detail in what I like to call "regimented fun."

None of the pubs in Chislehurst feature in the CAMRA Good Beer Guide, and you'd have to venture to Bromley or Eltham before you would find a pub featured in its hallowed, yellow and slightly curled pages. The Guide can't be treated as a bible though and there are a few good pubs in the Chislehurst area. First up is the Imperial Arms. This pub has been recently refurbished with rather eclectic décor and furnishings. It looks like the landlord has gone on a mad shopping spree in the local antique shops. Upon entering the pub I was greeted by two hand-pumps. After getting over the shock of talking hand-pumps I plumped for a pint of Harveys Best Bitter which was in excellent condition and very drinkable.

The other ale on was Sharps Doom Bar, so the pub may not have had the best ale selection but it's better than no ale, or even worse, John Smiths on keg. The only other customers in the pub were a group of rowdy labourers, their colourful language rather at odds with the attempted classiness of the décor. A tasty dish of ham, egg and chips rounded off a very pleasant stay at this comfortable, reasonably priced pub.

They like their cars ugly in Chislehurst

A not so reasonably priced pub is the The Bulls Head, in the more villagey part of Chislehurst nestled amongst quaint little shops selling wares you'd never want or need but will pay a fortune for anyway. An imposing building, it comprises of two bars, a restaurant, event/conference room and even has seven hotel rooms. The two bars are completely different decor and atmosphere wise - the lounge bar is decked out with traditional wooden walls and red booths and stools, and seemed more popular with the older clientèle who just wanted to enjoy a quiet drink. I was immediately attracted to this slice of old world pubbery, but The Lovely Jemma, with her young and modern ways, wanted to drink in the up to date main pub instead, complete with its sofas and high chairs (for adults.)

A pint of Youngs Bitter went down nicely, although it was close to £4 a pint which is a bit cheeky for this neck of the woods. The clientèle was certainly more moneyed than the Imperial Arms more down to earth lot. Standing at the bar was my favourite pub customer, the moneyed loud American. Not used to the surroundings of a nice country pub he resorted to barking orders at the staff and loudly telling "hillarious" stories to his tipsy British hosts. Despite him getting more rowdy and sweary as the afternoon went on I did what any British pub goer should do and stoically ignored him. Overall this was a decent pub but the high prices put me off making this a regular haunt.

Haven't had a TLJ nails picture in a while.
Here's the Summer Lightning.

My final Chislehurst pub is the Queens Head. Chislehurst seems to like pubs with "Head" in the name, with the aforementioned Bulls Head and there's also a Tigers Head in the vicinity. Let's hope a landlord called Richard doesn't open a pub named after himself here. The Queens Head is a Ember Inn, so basically it's a slightly more upmarket Wetherspoons. There was a good selection of ales and all were in good nick. Hop Back Summer Lightning was a pleasure as always. This was followed by a pint of Butcombe Brewery Great Grey Owl which smelled a bit like old socks but was a rather nice attempt at an American Pale Ale, with all the citrusy goodness that comes with the territory. A massive plate of nachos covered in pulled pork went down a treat and rounded off an enjoyable day out in this pretty little village.

I've got a fair few updates coming along in the next few weeks, including a jaunt around Preston and a trip to Tap East in Stratford, so don't give up on this blog just yet! Cheers.

Geronimo!

Geronimo are a chain of gastropubs found mainly in London and recently bought out by the Young's chain. Sadly despite the name they're not a chain of Doctor Who themed pubs. I'll have to stick to the Fab Cafe in Manchester if I want a drink while sitting next to a Cyberman and Tardis. Looking at their website you would be forgiven for thinking that the type of customer they are trying to attract - judging by the pictures - are young, moneyed, middle class, white, wankers. Perfect for me then. The reality is that having been to three Gernoimo pubs it's not easy to pigeon hole them. Each offers a very different experience.

The Betjeman Arms in St Pancras is probably the best one I've been to and as it's near where I work it's a dependable option for an office lunch. The menu doesn't change much but the food is always well prepared and tasty. The ale is usually in good condition even if they don't have a very exciting selection. The unique Betjeman Ale from Sharps is a tasty if unremarkable bitter but is worth a pint or two. Unexciting but decent sums up the Betjeman. Pleasant food, drink, decor and atmosphere but not the sort of place you'd go for a session. But it is a nice place to stop for a drink or bite to eat while waiting for a train, so I guess it's serving its purpose. The Betjeman used to do pretty good mini ale festivals but unfortunately that seems to have stopped. Hopefully they'll bring them back.

The Bull is Geronimos outpost at Westfield Shepherds Bush. When I visited on a weekday evening the pub was loud, busy, and packed full of kids. A tremendous amount of kids. Hardly anybody in there was over the age of 21 or capable of growing a decent beard. I'm not sure if this was a freak occurrence or a regular thing. The Bull didn't seem like the kind of place to attract a very young crowd, the decor giving the impression they were aiming for a slighter older demographic. I had to escape from the young crowd before I got angry at how many of them wouldn't know what a Global Hypercolour T-Shirt is or weren't alive when Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade was in the cinemas scaring the shit out of me. The ending where the villain ages rapidly still freaks me out to this day. If you don't know what I'm talking about you're either TOO YOUNG yourself or spectacularly pop culture inept. And as you're on the internet I doubt it's the latter.

We retreated to the dining room in the back for some dinner. The food in The Bull was decent. I opted for a Dexter burger which sadly wasn't shaped like Michael C. Halls face. It was tasty though. The beer was fine, although I can't for the life of me remeber what I drank. It was certainly well kept. I don't think I would return to The Bull, but that's mainly because I don't particularly want to return to Westfield, a vast, soulless, confusing monstrosity which managed to combine the worst elements of American "malls."

I've saved the worst for last. The Elgin in Ladbroke Grove is, essentially, a den for tossers. They call themselves a "Food Pub and Music House" which translates to "Stay away from this place." I ventured in anyway. Initial thoughts were the space is quite nice, despite being tarnished by ill judged decor and matey messages written on blackboards. However its true colours showed when I looked at the band lineup. It was all woozy women and gelled up double acts "re-imaging" every genre imaginable. "Re-imaging" usually means playing tired old rock standards on a scratched up acoustic guitar and a triangle, massacring the lyrics in a twee falsetto voice. There's usually a gimmick, such as the band performs standing on top of a tortoise,  which makes them "amazing, daring and unique" according to Time Out and the Culture section of the Times.

I couldn't wait to get out of there. The pint of Sambrooks Wandle was in good nick and very tasty but the pub had no atmosphere. Nobody looked particularly happy to be there and most were either by themselves typing on their MacBooks while taking up a table for four, or sitting around braying at each other while desperately making sure they were looking cool. If you were at the pub the night I visited then I'm sorry but I'm going to have to assume you're a wanker. Don't worry, I was automatically a wanker myself by sitting in the Elgin. I'm sure outside of the pub you're a lovely person and maybe you only ended up in the Elgin by mistake like I did, but if you're a "regular" of the Elgin then please never talk to me in real life. It's probably best for the both of us.

Geronimo

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.