Just a short post regarding an experience I had earlier in a
local pub. The hostelry in question was the
Punch & Judy, in
Tonbridge, a
back-street local, with a
Tardis-like interior, looking across the rear of the
town’s police station. It’s a pub that has seen several changes of name, and
when I first moved to Tonbridge, it was known as the
Gardener’s Arms. Despite these changes, the pub’s current name
appears to have stuck, even though it is usually abbreviated to the
Punch, or
sometimes, just the
PJ.
Despite its proximity to the police station, or perhaps because
of it, the Punch is very much a locals’ pub although it is none the worse for that.
I called in, earlier today, for a swift pint, having just missed a bus back up
to the top area of town. This part of Tonbridge is less than 5 minutes’ walk away
from Bailey Towers, although the bus ride back from the own does save a lengthy
uphill walk.
Back at the
Punch, I ordered a pint of
Harvey’s Best, a beer
that is usually the go-to beer, not just in
Tonbridge but across large swathes
of the south-east. The beer was cool, foamy and in tip-top condition. Looking
around there were just two other people in the pub; one was the landlady who
had just served me, whilst the other was a middle-aged man who was probably a
few years younger than me. There was sport of some description on the
TV, although no-one was taking any notice of it.
The conversation was a little stilted, until the arrival of a
group of official-looking fellas at the entrance to the car park at the rear of
the police station. The damaged, brick wall across the road wasn’t hard to miss,
and seeing the group of
hi-vis, clad gents, the landlady marched out of the
pub, and across to the group. They turned out to be insurance assessors, as confirmed to
me and the other customer, and from what our hostess reported back, the wall had
been struck by a bomb-disposal truck. No-one seemed sure of the connection or
the relevance, although it appeared this wasn’t the first time the perimeter wall
had been struck by a careless driver.
Excitement over, the conversation turned to beer glasses, because
the other customer had called in at the pub, to pick up a box of superfluous
glasses. I wasn't sure why this person wanted them, or what he was going to do
with them. (Reading between the lines, the glasses were destined for a social club,
of some description.) The landlady told the customer that the glasses were ale
glasses, rather than lager ones.
“What’s the difference?” inquired the customer.
“The lager ones are
etched at the bottom, to maintain the head”, was the reply.
The customer was somewhat miffed, so I waded in about the
“nucleation
point”, stealing the hostess’s thunder somewhat, before she explained further about
the etched, interior, at the bottom of the glass.
She referred to this part of the glass as a
“widget”,
which confused the customer even further, so with my scientist’s hat on, I explained
that the laser etched mark on the inside bottom of the glass, acts as a
nucleation point, that assists the release of the beer's carbonation,
creating a steady stream of bubbles and maintaining a head on the beer. The customer still didn’t seem to get it, although the
landlady agreed with my explanation. She explained that largely due to the action
of the glass rinser behind the bar, the laser etched marks gradually wear out over
time. The customer was informed that such
“worn” glasses would still be fine
for bitter, although not for lager.
It was time for me to leave and catch my bus, but these random
encounters and equally random conversations, are what make pub life so refreshing
and enjoyable. Now, should anyone ask you about “nucleation points” you will
know they are referring to pouring a perfect pint of lager, rather than the
all-out war the orange-idiot in the White House seems determined to provoke.
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