A few more beery gems in Cologne

I was having a sort out earlier this morning, when I stumbled upon a pile of notes that I’d made in relation to the Rhineland city of Cologne. As you're no doubt aware, last month I published a quite lengthy piece consisting of reflections, looking back over my many visits to the city. I tried to make the post as comprehensive as possible but obviously couldn't include everything. Now, after looking back over these notes, it’s evident there are quite a few gaps, and so, in the interests of completeness, I've added them in here. But will this be the final word on Cologne? A city I have visited on eight separate occasions, which is more than any other overseas destinations. The answer is I don't know, although it certainly is for the time being, so sit back and relax as I describe a few more of Cologne’s beery gems.

Brauerei Päffgen is a place that is well-known to beer lovers; not only is its wonderfully hoppy Kölsch brewed at the rear of the premises, but it is also dispensed from wooden casks. A former school friend had taken me to Päffgen during my first visit to Cologne, way back in 1975. My friend was living and working in the city as part of the language degree he was taking. I was also a student, but at the time was travelling around Europe, by train, on an Inter-Rail ticket with a friend from university. Even back then I had a reputation for enjoying good beer so my host, knowing this fact, had taken me to Päffgen as he knew I would be impressed.

I didn’t plan on waiting 34 years before returning, but in 2009, on an evening out with a few colleagues, whilst attending the Cologne International Dental Show, I was finally able to make that return visit to Päffgen. With a sense of eager anticipation, my colleagues and I pushed open the door, and found ourselves in a central corridor with a small room leading off to the left, and a much larger one to the right. We opted for the latter and were soon seated at one of the many tables in the wood-panelled room. On the way in we noticed two up-ended wooden casks, tapped and ready for serving.

We ordered a Kölsch each and were pleasantly surprised by its hoppy flavour. I had a look round the rest of the pub to see if it would bring back any memories. I recognised the large back room at the end of the corridor as being the place where, on a damp July evening, my friend and I had sat enjoying several glasses of Päffgen Kölsch. It was great to be back, even if the memories were rather vague but sadly, as mentioned previously, I haven’t been back since then, despite several attempts during subsequent visits to IDS.

In May 2017, I made a non-work-related visit to Cologne, along with son Matthew. We were part of a group of beer enthusiasts drawn mainly from Maidstone CAMRA, plus a few neighbouring branches. Our visit to Cologne was a one-day interlude, that occurred during a stay in the neighbouring Rhineland city of Düsseldorf – basically what Americans would call a “side-trip.” The transit time between the two cities is around 35 minutes, so it’s a journey that’s well worth making.

We were in Cologne for a look around, and also to have a tour around a typical Kölsch brewery, in the guise of Brauerei Sünner. Our visit was not scheduled until later in the afternoon, so this gave us plenty of time for a look around Cologne and also to sample some Kölsch. We decided to make for Brauerei zur Malzmühle at Heumarkt; an old established former brewpub at the far end of the Alter Markt. This was a pub I had never managed to get to on previous visits to the city, so I was quite pleased with the opportunity to go there this time around.

Housed in a rather functional-looking building, replacing the original structure, which was destroyed in World War II, Malzmühle was every bit the traditional German beer house on the inside. With high ceilings and plenty of wood panelling, we made for the two tables at the far end of the room. One of the thoughtful waiters came over and fixed a “bridge” in between the two, thereby joining them and enabling us to all sit together.  

Malzmühle Kölsch was quite a bitter variant on the style. Being slightly away from the main tourist areas, Brauerei zur Malzmühle was very much a local’s pub, but we were nevertheless made very welcome. (I think the staff were glad of our presence during what seemed a slack period).

Our day in Cologne concluded with the aforementioned visit to Brauerei Sünner, a traditional brewery on the other side of the River Rhine, and one where the Kölsch style of beer is said to have originated. I’m rather surprised to discover, that I didn’t write anything about the brewery tour, at the time, but despite an extensive search cannot find anything. I did take quite a few photos, though, so you will have to make do with those. 

After our tour around the brewery concluded, we enjoyed an excellent evening meal, served in the small beer garden attached to the brewery. This area open to local residents, as well as visitors to the brewery, as evidenced by the photos, and if you look carefully, you will notice a small keg of Kölsch on one of the tables. A nice idea that saves on trips to the bar or trying to attract the attention of the waiting staff.  

One city centre Kölsch outlet that I visited, during one of my first business trips to Cologne, was Pfaffen. At the time, this was the only outlet for the beer of the same name, and story behind this establishment dates back to a fall out between owner, Max Päffgen, and other members of the Päffgen family. This led to Max starting a brewery of his own. I wrote at the time that the Pfaffen Kölsch served at Max’s pub, was probably the best version of the style I tasted during my stay in Cologne. It was so good that I stayed for several more glasses.

The Pfaffen tavern is a long, narrow building featuring some attractive carved, light-coloured woodwork and also some interesting contemporary stained glass. Regrettably, I haven’t been back since, but with beer that good I brought my colleagues there on our last night in the city, and they were well impressed. The beer was served direct from wooden casks, and such was the demand for this excellent Kölsch that we witnessed the cask being changed twice in less than an hour and saw the row of empties stacked up in the corridor.

I’m not sure as to when I first came across Schreckenskammer-Kölsch. It must have been prior to my penultimate visit to Cologne, which was in 2019. This was at a time when I believed I had drunk virtually every Kölsch available in the city, so stumbling upon Schreckenskammer came as something of a surprise. I bought a 500ml bottle during that 2019 trip but was determined to track down the Schreckenskammer pub on my next visit to Cologne, little thinking that, thanks to Covid, the trip wouldn’t be for another four years!

Situated to the north-west of Cologne’s imposing main rail station, or Hauptbahnhof, the pub was quite easy to find, particularly with the assistance of Google Maps, on my Smart Phone.  

The distinctive looking church tower of St Ursula, acted as my guide as I drew near to the pub. With the original Schreckenskammer beer house destroyed by Allied bombing, in 1943, today’s pub is a modern building, which dates from the 1960’s. It is still quite an attractive looking building, which overlooks a paved area at the entrance to the church. Pleased with myself for having found the place, I gingerly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

There was a small room over to the left, with its own serving counter, complete with some casks of beer, in full view of the customers. There was a handful of customers present, plus a member of staff behind the counter. It looked very much like a “private bar,” so I headed, instead, for the larger, and more spacious room to the right. It was laid out with plenty of tables and chairs, but very little in the way of empty places, as most seemed occupied with diners.  I sat myself down at the end of one such table, with my back to the window. I do this in most pubs, as I like to see what’s going on, rather than sit with my back to the action. 

When the waiter, or Kobe, passed, by with his tray of glasses, he uttered the word, “Kölsch,” and almost without waiting for an answer, placed a full glass on the table in front of me, whilst at the same time marking a fresh beer mat, with a tick. The beer was served in a badged glass – as per the photo and was rather good, with a deep golden colour and plenty of body. The pub itself was buzzing, with a lively mix of customers, spanning several different age groups. I got the impression that most of them were local, drawn from the nearby flats.

Finding Schreckenskammer left just one final, classic Cologne pub to tick off my list, and that outlet was the legendary Gaststätte Lommerzheim, which I visited on my final evening in Cologne. Known locally as Lommi’s, this establishment is a “must visit” Cologne institution, and one of those pubs you feel privileged to have experienced. Recommended by a wide assortment of different beer writers, including Matt from Stockport, Retired Martin, and Rob Sterowski, but still far enough off the beaten track to have escaped the notice of the more usual suspects, Lommerzheim is in a class of its own.

Described as a throwback to a bygone era, Lommi’s is a proper community local, catering to a wide age groups and a diverse range of customers. As well as serving one of the best glasses of Kölsch in Cologne - Päffgen, naturally, dispensed from a wooden cask behind the bar counter, the food looks really inviting as well, that’s if you can find space at table where you can sit down and get stuck in. On my visit, shortly after 6pm on a Thursday evening, the place was packed with people were enjoying themselves, either in small groups or conversing with friends and neighbours.

If you want to learn more, then click on the link here, but don’t just take my word for it, add Gaststätte Lommerzheim to your beer-bucket list, or make it an essential part of any visit to Cologne and the Rhineland, (there are some classic pubs in Düsseldorf as well, and like Cologne, the city has its own unique style of beer). If these accounts haven’t whetted your appetite, then I don’t know what will, but I do know I have spent some very happy times in this part of Germany, drank some truly amazing beers and enjoyed them in some equally wonderful pubs.

 

Apple Cider Reconstitution

As you may have gathered from the previous post, I spent a quiet birthday at home with the family, or rather with Eileen, as Matthew was at work. I finished doing some tidying up in the garden, despite being under orders from my good lady wife, not to overdo it. I’m not sure what she thought I’d be doing, especially as the bone-dry ground far too hard for any digging.  in the meantime, she prepared a very nice joint of roast pork for our Sunday dinner. As far as the drink was concerned, I went for something a little different for this special occasion, by selecting two high strength alcoholic beverages.

The first of these was a large 750 ml bottle of Sainsbury's Taste the Difference Celebration Ale, which was given to me by a work colleague as a Christmas present. However, with a potency of 7.9% abv, and a volume one
and a half times that of a normal bottle of beer, I was reluctant to open it, because I thought it was a lot of strong, high-octane beer to get through in one sitting. I needn't have been concerned because the beer was packaged in a corked bottle, so it was quite easy to re-cork it, and save some for later - or at least it was until the cork dried out!

I’m pleased to report that the beer was excellent, and despite its high strength it didn't taste sweet, or cloying, as one might have expected from a beer of this gravity. According to the bottle, Celebration Ale is best served lightly chilled and is perfect to be enjoyed on any occasion, including celebrations, particularly in view of its strength. It is a blonde ale bursting with bright citrus and tropical fruit notes, balanced with a subtle herbaceous character, set against a warming spiciness, which derives from the use of Australian Vic Secret hops. Brewed in the French town of Arques, a commune in the Pas-de-Calais department in northern France, bordering Saint-Omer, an area that has been under Belgian, English, French and Spanish rule at different times, during it long history. It was definitely a fitting beer for a significant birthday celebration.

The other drink celebration drink I enjoyed wasn't a beer but was instead a bottle of Waitrose No. 1 English Vintage Perry. Produced in partnership with Weston’s, the renowned West Country cider maker, who were established in 1880, and made with 100% fresh pressed pear juice this Herefordshire Perry is made using fresh pears, selected from a single year’s harvest. The Perry is slow matured to bring out the complex pear flavours generously refreshing scrub that deliciously refreshing with baked fruit flavours and a hint of Ruby Grapefruit and spice. It's a perfect match for creamy cheeses according to the label on the bottle. I'd selected it as the perfect match for a joint of roast pork, and I certainly wasn't wrong with that judgement.

The only trouble was this enjoyable and rather good, sparkling perry has an alcohol content of 8.0% so, following on, from an equally strong beer, was probably not a good idea, even though I was celebrating a significant milestone in my life. As with the Celebration Ale. I didn't drink the bottle all at once, in fact I ended up re-capping it as best I could and drinking the remaining half, the following day. Kept in the fridge it was still good and hadn’t lost its sparkle or its appealing taste.

Now I was going to tell the tale about cider being responsible for the first time I became tipsy, at the tender age of 14, but looking back I discovered that I’d posted that particular story, back in August 2020. I must have been bored, during Covid, but the post is still worth re-reading, especially as it sets out my feelings about cider, and how I disapproved with CAMRA becoming sidetracked with their separate, and in my view completely unrelated campaign in support of fermented apple (and pear) juice.

That stance has mellowed since then, especially as I’m not longer a member of CAMRA, but also because I’m becoming more enamoured with traditional cider and perry, and the role these drinks play in pub life today. Give it a read, along with the other article it links to, which is about – you guessed it, Waitrose No. 1 English Vintage Perry.

 

 

Three score years & ten

When you’re in your twenties, you can’t even contemplate what it must be like to reach the grand old age of 70, apart from thinking that it’s positively ancient! The same applies when you reach the ages of 30 and 40. By the time you notch up your half century, you start giving creeping old age a bit of thought, but not a lot though, and even when you reach 60, the thought of surviving another decade doesn't register that highly on your clock.

And yet, here I am today, seventy years young, and apart from a little slower, slightly stiffer, plus and a few more minor aches and pains, nothing much is different. I’ve had to renew my UK driving licence, which was a change, as the previous one was a rather dog-eared, folding paper one – a legacy of not having changed my address these past 30 years, but then there are the other benefits – most of which have kicked in over the 4-5 years leading up to the big seven-O.

Free NHS prescriptions, free travel on UK buses (with certain time restrictions), reduced-price rail travel, and whilst that does involve purchasing a rail card, I’ve already re-couped the price of that. No National Insurance contributions, deducted from my wages each month, either. I was going to add free eye sight tests, but that benefit is down to an existing eye condition.

So, on balance, it’s all good, with my Bus Pass coming out way on top. It’s a benefit I take advantage of most weeks, even if it’s just taking the bus back from a trip into Tonbridge. Before anyone says I ought to walk, I do rely on shank’s pony to reach the town centre, it’s just that the walk back, involves a steep climb in order to reach Bailey Towers. Free bus travel comes into its own when planning pub trips out to rural areas, and this has fast become my favourite means of accessing those hard-to-reach rural gems, without risking my driving licence, my own safety, and that of other road users.

Seventy years, translates to 52 years of legally permitted beer drinking, although as with many of my contemporaries there were a couple of years preceding my 18^th birthday, when the odd pint or two was quaffed in pubs where the licensee was either unaware of my age, or turned a blind eye- Nelson fashion. There have been numerous changes on both the beer and pub scenes, and whilst not all of them have been for the better, the choice of different beers, and the increase in both range and styles, has been phenomenal. Spoilt for choice, is certainly an understatement, and yet, in a perverse sort of way there is a nostalgic longing for the pubs of yesteryear.

Two-bar pubs, offering a choice of public or saloon bars, and sometimes even more. Most pubs tied to the owning brewer – back in the day when breweries cared about their tied estates, and the people (mainly tenant licensees) who lived and worked in them. Sensible prices, that meant affordable beers, and brews with character, that still tasted of malt and hops. Many more pubs too, as looking bad it’s sad to recall how many we’ve lost over the years. The joy, and sheer excitement of travelling to a different area of the country where you knew, even without publications like the Good Beer Guide to direct you, that there would be a different local brew to become acquainted with and, depending on the area, quite often several.

It isn’t all doom and gloom though, as on the plus side, drinkers have at last been treated as adults. The fact that a piece of legislation, introduced during the Great War, to stop munitions workers enjoying a mid - afternoon pint, was allowed to last so long, is a sad indictment of not just our political system, but also of the straight-laced puritan morals, of certain parts of society. For example, having to wait until 7pm on a Sunday evening, for pubs to re-open, following on from a paltry two-hour lunchtime session, the same day, seems absurd now, yet UK drinkers endured this for the best part of 50 years.

Also, on the plus side, the enormous explosion in the number of small and often local breweries, is something very few drinkers would have envisaged, back in 1973, when I had my first legal pint. Sadly, I can’t remember the time or the place, although I suspect it would have been in the Honest Miller, which was the pub in the small, Kent village of Brook, where I spent my teenage years. I also suspect that it was my father, who bought me that pint, despite him not being a beer drinker, or a pub man. (Footnote, the Honest Miller re-opened as a community-run pub, in July last year, after closing in 2020, and falling into disrepair. It is currently only open Thurs-Sat, whilst the renovation work continues).

The influence of CAMRA, and the huge role the organisation played in saving traditional cask ale, is also something that would have been hard to imagine, 52 years ago, and I’m immensely proud of my time as a member of one of the most successful consumer groups, ever, along with the numerous pub surveys I undertook, the branch newsletters I help write, as well as edit, the beer festivals that saw me and numerous other volunteers, serve pint after pint of tasty and characterful, local ales to an appreciative public.

I still think that CAMRA’s proudest achievement was enabling beer drinkers all over the globe to discover and embrace, their own local beers styles, to run beer festivals, and eventually open breweries of their own, committed to promoting local beers and local brewing traditions. I’ve been grateful to have experienced some of this for myself through visits to countries such as Belgium, Czechia and Germany, with their own proud brewing traditions. 

I've also come across similar scenarios in countries such as the USA, Ireland and many other European countries, who have followed CAMRA’s example, as well as some of their neighbours, by resurrecting some of their own indigenous beers and brewing styles. It is now, virtually impossible to travel anywhere in the beer-drinking world, and not find a beer with character and appeal, which above all else is satisfying and enjoyable.

This brings me on to the many friends and acquaintances, I have met along the way, the people I have shared a few beers with, chewed the cud with, in a pub or bar somewhere along the line, or whose company I have enjoyed on days out, trips abroad or whilst walking a long-distance footpath or two. It is people who, at the end of the day, make these occasions so special. Beer, in its many different varieties, acts as the social lubricant for these events, and they in turn enhance the whole beer, pub and walking experience.

I ought, also to mention, that I’ve enjoyed a long and varied career, that began following my graduation in 1976, from the University of Salford, and which took me into the fields of wine & spirits, water treatment, veterinary pharmaceuticals, organic peroxides & powder grinding, and then finally, for the best part of 20 years, Medical Devices, in the form of dental materials. 

 Sandwiched in between, was a five-year period of running my own, off-licence, specialising in cask ales to drink at home, along with bottled beers from both home and abroad. The late Brian Johnston titled his autobiography, “It’s Been a Lot of Fun,” and on the whole, it certainly has. 

Special mention too, should be made of my family who have supported and put up with me over the years, especially Eileen, my wife of nearly 40 years, plus of course son Matthew who has turned out to be an all round good fellow, and a son to be proud of. Last, but by no means least, I would like to thank all friends and other family members who have helped along the way, regardless of the assistance rendered, or whether it was just a case of them being there, that propelled me along the way, on my journey through life, and for getting me to this stage. Thank-you all, I couldn't have got here without you!

 

 

Still firmly Anchored in Sevenoaks

 

On Thursday evening, for the first time in a long while. I participated in a meeting of my local CAMRA branch. Despite no longer being a member, I still keep in touch with events at a local level, so It wasn’t as if I had been actively avoiding the branch. Instead, finding an evening where I did not have work the following morning, and where son Matthew would be home sufficiently early from his job, to enable us to have dinner at a reasonable hour, often proves a challenge, especially prior to heading out to an evening meeting venue. In short, I don’t like rushing!

The meeting took place at the Anchor in Sevenoaks, located a short distance from the town’s marketplace, and was an opportunity for West Kent CAMRA to present legendary Sevenoaks licensee, Barry Dennis with a well-deserved award for best pub in Sevenoaks. Barry, and his business partner Phil Wheeler, have managed this traditional town local, for the past 46 years and during that time the Anchor has become something of institution within Sevenoaks. The pub has achieved numerous awards, and the latest falls under one of the categories determined by the local CAMRA branch.

The awards appear to be part of a growing trend, within CAMRA
which, if it continues, could perhaps see presentations or awards for various niche categories - pub with the most attractive wallpaper, anyone? None of this though, diminishes Barry's achievements at the Anchor, such as his longevity as licensees, and his exemplary skills and performance as host behind the bar. He is certainly a larger-than-life character and a real showman as well, conducting himself more like a “Master of Ceremonies”. He never seems to stand still, and there is always something “going on” at the Anchor.

A text reminder was sent out to CAMRA members, and supporters, a few days in advance of the presentation, suggesting that individuals traveling from Tonbridge or Tunbridge Wells might prefer taking the bus rather than the train. This recommendation was made due to the substantial uphill walk to the Anchor, from Sevenoaks station, meaning those who opted for the bus could conveniently disembark at the bus station, which is just a short distance from the Anchor.  

This was fine, so long as the buses ran to time, but following a 15-minute wait for the last 402 service of the evening, I was on the verge of swapping on to the rails, when the bus finally turned up. I climbed to the top deck and enjoyed the view, as the journey took us north through Hildenborough and then up the steep incline of River Hill into Sevenoaks itself. One friend, who had opted for an earlier bus, gave up after 40 minutes, and took the train instead, whilst his travelling companion returned home. None of this is good publicity for Arriva, the bus company concerned.

Despite a relatively low turnout, which might in part have been due to factors, such as buses not playing ball and other delays caused by the inimitable roadworks - scheduling the work for school holiday periods, almost certainly played a part here, it was a good evening. My appearance surprised a few familiar faces, but not to the extent of "you're still alive, then?" As previously mentioned, circumstances such as conflicting dates or inconvenient timings have prevented me from attending in the past. Despite this it was quite gratifying reconnecting with friend and acquaintances who I hadn’t seen for a considerable period, probably since before Christmas!

When I arrived at the Anchor, there was a quite diverse crowd present, and this was aside from the CAMRA contingent. Barry has a knack for attracting people from various walks of life and making them feel welcome, for instance, he manages to attract custom from the traveling players, performing at the nearby Stag Theatre. Additionally, he organizes various activities, including a meat raffle, poker evenings (with no money changing hands), open mic nights, quizzes, and much more, to his unashamedly old-fashioned, but very welcoming local.

Last Thursday, the CAMRA crowd was able to choose from three different cask ales, including the “must stock” Harvey’s Best, alongside two offerings from Thanet breweries, in the form of Seasider from the long-established Gadd’s, plus a beer from nearby Wantsum, whose Anchor Imperial Ale is brewed specially for Barry’s pub, as implied by the pump clip. If I’m honest, I’ve never really taken to Wantsum Ales, despite the obvious, strapline appeal of the brewery’s name, but this darkish bitter was eminently drinkable, as was the Gadd’s offering. Again, there are other beers I prefer from this Ramsgate Brewery – No. 3 plus No.5, but this 4.3% amber ale was still very pleasant.

Before the presentation of the certificate, plus the obvious photo opportunity, made by Tony, the West Kent chairman, Barry brought out some plates of sandwiches, although having not long had a substantial dinner, I managed to resist temptation. I spent the rest of the evening catching up on what had been occurring recently, both within CAMRA – quite a lot of dissent over reorganisation plans for both branches and regions, plus what various friends and acquaintances had been up to – far more interesting!

The three of us travelling back towards Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells, left the Anchor just after 11pm, glad that the walk back to the station was all downhill. Unlike my two companions, I needed to buy a ticket, and whilst there was still time (just), I almost missed the train due to the tidal wave of commuters, streaming their way up both the up and the down staircases from the platform. The herd instinct is obviously still alive and kicking! It is an uphill walk to Bailey Towers, back from the station, but it’s something I’m used to after 40 years or so of living in Tonbridge. I was still glad of my bed though, when I finally reached home.