Never saying never, to Doom Bar

"Never say never", no, this is not another article about the former Hilden Manor, Beefeater restaurant, that  recently reopened under the above title, instead it's more of a post in which yours truly ends up eating a rather large slice of humble pie! To cut a long story short, the article boils down to a beer that many drinkers are familiar with, and a brand that had been the best-selling cask ale in the UK for 11 consecutive years, holding the top spot by both volume and value from 2013 until late 2024, when it was overtaken in sales value by Timothy Taylor's Landlord.

The beer in question is Sharp's Doom Bar, a beer that had been produced in Rock, Cornwall, since 1994, before being acquired by multi-national brewing behemoth, Molson Coors in 2011. Before the takeover, and before its meteoric rise to fame, Doom Bar had been a well respected, and much sought after beer, and one I'd been really impressed with. My infatuation with the brand began after sampling it, for the first time at a drink's industry trade show, in London. That would have been in the early 2000's, when Mrs PBT's and I had our off-licence, in Priory Street, Tonbridge. 

That initial taste of Doom Bar was as a bottled beer, and I don't know (or can't remember) when it became available in cask form. For all, I know the brand might have started life as a cask beer, but whatever the case, these details aren't really relevant to the narrative. What is relevant, is that Doom Bar's reputation was such that not only did the brand continue to increase its availability, but it also grew in terms of brand loyalty, so as to eventually attract the attention of a large, brewing group, in the form of Molson Coors. I liked the beer and enjoyed it, whenever I saw it on sale, although by this time it must have become widely available in cask form. 

I don't recall stocking either the cask or bottled version of Doom Bar at our off-licence, although we largely relied on wholesalers such as the Beer Seller, or East-West Ales for our cask supplies, with just a small amount delivered directly by brewers, such as Harvey's, Larkin's, Goacher's, or Badger. Somewhere along the line, Doom Bar changed in both taste, and appeal. The two of course are related, although both seemed to coincide with the enormous growth in the brand's availability and appeal. I found, particularly with the cask version that the beer had become increasingly bland in taste, and had lost its earlier appeal, and it wasn't just me that had noticed this change. 

Things reached the stage that whereas I would once have ordered a pint of Doom Bar, without hesitation I was now actively avoiding the beer. It became slightly embarrassing in the early days when friends, relations and even casual acquaintances who, knowing that I enjoyed a beer or two, seemed puzzled when I refused their offer of a Doom Bar. My increasing, active dislike of the brand became something of a standing joke, especially with people who knew me through this blog. One fellow blogger, who shall remain nameless, went to the extent of offering bottles of the stuff as a sort of trophy or prize. He was joking of course, or perhaps not, but the example illustrates just how low Doom Bar's reputation had fallen amongst fellow beer enthusiasts.

Fast forward to the other night, when supplies in Paul's beer stash, cupboard were running low. There, lurking at the back of the cupboard was a 500 ml bottle of Sharp's Doom Bar, just ripe for the taking, so guided by the thought of nothing ventured, nothing gained, I cracked open the bottle, after chilling it slightly in the fridge. Now humble pie, and all that, but after raising the glass to my lips, there is no way I can describe the beer as bland. 

It isn't particularly hoppy, but there is a firm malt base that immediately shone through, so much so that I found myself actively enjoying the beer. The maltiness, goes hand in glove with Sharp's description of the beer as an "Amber Ale", a term I've never really understood, and one chosen by the late, lamented West Midlands, Bank's Brewery, who used the term for their mild ale ("mild" having been deemed, to have bad connotations, especially amongst younger drinkers - "Gen whatever", the current term might be).

So will this "Road to Damascus" conversion inspire me to order Doom Bar in a pub? The answer remains unclear, as despite both bottled and cask variants carrying the same name and iconic branding, the two versions of Sharp's Doom Bar are entirely different products. They posses different alcohol contents, are brewed hundreds of miles apart, and undergo completely separate production processes, so the jury is still out on that one. I did attempt to find an outlet stocking the cask version, but it wasn't easy. I would probably have been successful at Wetherspoons, but our local Spoons is currently undergoing a major refit and is closed until the start of next month.

Instead, I headed for another Tonbridge pub which, according to the CAMRA website, was listed as stocking Doom Bar. It didn't, although the Station House served me a very acceptable, and keenly priced, pint of London Pride. This Craft Union establishment was the sole remaining Tonbridge pub that I had not set foot in, since commencing my quest, at the start of last year, to visit every pub in the town. I was pleasantly surprised, at what I found, but that's a story for another day. My taste comparison between bottled and cask Doom Bar, remains incomplete, awaiting another attempt, in a different pub, but what this experience has demonstrated, is the importance of keeping an open mind about things.