First Stop - Prague

The day and a half I spent in Prague, prior to joining the other members of our tour group, represented my fifth visit to the city. I can therefore say I know the city fairly well; certainly the main tourist attractions. Despite this I was determined to make the most of my short stopover in the city by revisiting many of Prague’s best and well-known sights. Consequently on the first evening I caught the No. 18 tram into the city centre at alighted at Národni třida, virtually right opposite my first intended port of call and the place I had planned on having my evening meal.

 

Beer hall - U Medvidků

U Medvidků, (at the Little Bears), is one of Prague’s best known beer halls, but it is also much more than this as the establishment is home to a micro-brewery, a beer bar, plus a boutique hotel. On my last visit, at the end of November 2013, the beer hall had been bursting at the seams, and my wife, son and I had been unable to get a table. This time though, the place looked half empty, and I had no problem in finding somewhere to sit. I chose a table at the end nearest the main entrance, as this gave me a full view of the rest of the hall. I don’t know if there is some deep-seated reason for this, but I always prefer to sit facing the proceedings, rather than facing the wall and with my back to what is going on. Anyway, on this occasion I was dining alone, so which way to face was not an issue.

U Medvidků is tied to Budvar, and serves their 12˚beer in unpasteurised form, straight from cellar tanks. I feel it doesn’t have quite the character of Pilsner Urquell, but it is still a fine beer, and was definitely tasted all the better for not being pasteurised. I drank my way through two half litres of the stuff as the accompaniment to me meal of pork steak, cooked in beer sauce.

The hall had started to fill up by the time I finished my meal, so I decided it was time to move on. Although I had a list of some of the brew-pubs which had sprung up in the city in recent years, I instead decided to pay a return visit to U Fleků Prague’s original brewpub; an establishment which also claims to be the oldest brew-pub in the world. I am well aware that many beer writers regard U Fleků as something of a tourist trap, and whilst there may well be more than a grain of truth in this, the pub still produces what can only be described as “one of the world’s finest dark lagers”, and a definite world classic.

U Fleků

I had visited U Fleků on each of my four previous visits to Prague, so was determined not to break this record. I have fond memories of my first visit to the pub, back in 1984, when I was a participant on an early CAMRA trip to what was then Czechoslovakia. The place has obviously changed quite a bit since then, and is an obvious port of call on most tourist itineraries, but it still pervades an atmosphere of old world Prague, and its wood-panelled halls, and stone-flagged corridors, convey the visitor back to a bygone age. Also, as I stated earlier, the beer is bloody good and seems to have become much more consistent.

 I wound my way to U Fleků, through the maze of back streets and, as the pub was predictably busy, I decided to sit out in the rear courtyard. There were several groups, who looked to be from tour parties, but they were well behaved and reasonably quiet, so decision to brave the chill of the night air, proved to be a good one. The waiters outside also seemed more relaxed and there was none of the trying to press shots of Becherovka on unsuspecting customers that the pub has become notorious for. The other grouse, which many beer aficionados have about U Fleků, is that the pub serves its beer in 40 cl glasses, rather than the usual 50 cl. 

I sat there enjoying the rich chocolate-like taste of this dark  and malty13˚  lager, reflecting on the fact that it was 30 years ago that I had first set foot in this courtyard, where our CAMRA party had arranged to meet for a meal, plus beers of course, as the highlight of our first evening in Prague. How things have changed, and those die-hard communist leaders in charge of the country at the time would have a blue fit if they could see the place now. Perhaps that should be a red fit?

Two beers at U Fleků on top of the two I’d enjoyed earlier at U Medvidků, were enough for the evening, so I found my way to the nearest tram stop, and then walked the short distance back to my hotel. The next day dawned bright and sunny, and after a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast, I was ready to go out exploring again. As it turned out, that first full day in the country was by far the warmest and the sunniest of the entire Czech trip, with temperatures approaching the mid 20’s and wall-to-wall sunshine. I set off suitably attired in T-shirt, shorts and sunglasses, determined to do the whole Prague sight-seeing thing; even though I’d done most of it on previous visits. 

Prague Castle - Lower Entrance

I again boarded the No. 18 tram, but this time I stayed on until I reached the other side of the river, alighting at Malostranska. From there I walked short distance uphill until I came to the series of steps which lead up to the castle.  I hadn’t walked up that way before, or at least I don’t think so, as I do remember, back in 1984, walking up to Prague Castle via a series of steps, and my companions and I may well have taken that route. It was already hot in the sun and I was glad to reach the top. As with the steps which lead up to the front of the castle, I was rewarded with a spectacular view of the city, spreading out below me. The dozens of other tourists though the same, and at times it was difficult to get close enough to the parapet in order to enjoy the view.

Klášterni pivovar Strahov

I continued up into the castle, and there I decided to bite the bullet and buy an admission ticket. I particularly wanted to see the historic artisan houses which make up Golden Lane - so called because there were alchemists, supposedly capable of transmuting base metals into gold, living there. This part of the castle tour alone was well worth the price of the ticket, as there were steps leading up into passageways between the thick medieval walls of the castle. There were umpteen suits of armour plus various swords on display, and also some rather gruesome torture instruments.

It was whilst walking back from Golden Lane and up between the walls of the former Royal Palace, that I had a real feeling of déjà vu. On that first visit to Prague, some 30 years ago, we had called into a real local’s pub, close to both the castle and the cathedral. On subsequent visits to the city I have never been able to find this pub again, but the high walls and narrow lane running between them felt as though they might once have contained such a pub.

Klášterni pinovar Matŭska

After looking around St Vitus’s Cathedral, I headed off in the direction of the Strahov Monastery, in order to visit the Klášterni pinovar Strahov  brew-pub. En route, and close to the Černisky Palace I passed U Černého Vola, a really basic pub which I had been in on a previous visit to Prague. I decided I would call in again, but not until I’d had something to eat and drink at the monastery. I followed a flight of steps up through a passageway which forms a short-cut into the monastery grounds, but as I made my way towards Klášterni Strahov  I noticed another establishment which I hadn’t seen before, called Klášterni pinovar Matŭska. A large banner beckoned me in; that and the prospect of sitting outside under one of the shady umbrellas. 

Lunch - Klášterni pinovar Matŭska 

I sampled their unfiltered, pale house lager, plus their dark. I much preferred the former, but I had a shock when the bill came, as both were priced at Kr95 per half litre, which was astronomical, even for Prague. The Kr59 I paid the previous night at U Fleků seemed cheap by comparison. To put things in context though, Kr95 is around £3.00, so by UK standards Klášterni pinovar Matŭska was still good value. I also had some more solid sustenance in the form of goulash soup in a hollowed-out loaf of bread. Over lunch I got chatting to an American, sitting at an adjacent table. Like my brother-in-law, he was an ex US Airman. He had been stationed in former West Germany back in the days of Cold War, when countries behind the Iron Curtain were strictly off limits to US service personnel. He was therefore making up for lost time, although he had tagged this short visit to Prague onto a much longer trip to Ireland. It was evident that he liked his beer, so I was able to recommend a few places for him to visit.

U Tři Růži

Having already had two half litres, I reluctantly decided to give U Černého Vola a miss. There was a lot more that I wanted to do on the tourist trail, so I headed back down towards the Charles Bridge and the old town area of Staré Mésto. As expected, this was serious tourist territory, but before heading to Old Town Square I had one further brew-pub to visit, in the form of U Tři Růži; one of Prague’s newest brew-pub and a welcome haven to escape the hustle and bustle of the Old Town.

I perched myself at one of the tall tables in the shadow of the in-house brewery and ordered a 25cl glass of Videnské cervén (Vienna Red 5.7%), plus the same quantity of the house Tmavé  Speciál (Dark Special 5.1%). Of the two, I preferred the Vienna Red, although both beers were very quaffable.

Brewing kit - U Tři Růži

After this all too brief interlude, it was back to the sight-seeing, followed by some shopping. I would be meeting up with my fellow travellers the following morning and leaving Prague for the town of Jihlava,  deep in the central highland province of Kraj Vysočina; right in the heart of the country. Before the day was up though I had time for one final pub visit, which was to a place called Zly Časy; Prague’s premier craft-beer pub which had the added bonus of being just five minutes walk from my hotel.

The “Evil Times” features nearly 40 draught beers, which are offered in three bars, spread over three separate floors. Rather confusingly each bar has a different selection making it difficult, especially for non-Czech speakers to know what is available where. I opted for the cellar bar, which was quite extensive and certainly much busier than the virtually deserted ground floor bar. I was feeling rather tired by this time, so only had two beers; Tambor 11˚ from the town of Dvůr Krájové, plus Uherský Brod Comenius Speciál Světlé 14°. Both were good, and both are brewed by well-respected Czech micro-brewers.

Zly Časy

With a tasty home-made beef burger and chips to help soak up the beer, it was a good end to a long and tiring day spent in the Czech capital. With the thoughts of being off to pastures new in the morning, I made my way back to my hotel for a good night’s sleep.

Back to Reality

I arrived back on Saturday evening from my Czech trip, and after spending a couple of days in Norfolk staying with my father, it was back to work with a vengeance this morning.

 There’s a lot to write about, and I intend to do this in the fullness of time, but in the meantime I just want to say how different, and refreshing it was to go to a place well off the normal tourist trails of Prague, and to see a bit of the real Czech Republic. 

We visited historic old towns, caught in a time warp, as well as work-a-day industrial towns which help power the national economy. In between was some of the most pleasing countryside I have been fortunate to gaze upon; with rolling hills, dense forests and stretches of verdant green pasture. There were numerous fish ponds dotting the landscape, providing a renewable source of fresh fish for the many picturesque villages which abound in this part of the country; settlements linked by winding country roads, lined by blossom-laden apple trees, all looking particularly splendid at this time of year.

There were also attractive old pubs serving hearty and tasty meals with plenty of excellent beer to wash the food down. Even better was the fact that both beer and food were available at prices last seen in the west many years ago. And all this enjoyed in the company of friends and like-minded people. The only thing lacking was some warm weather and sunshine; but then you can’t have everything.

I had a great time, and enjoyed sights and experiences I wouldn’t have missed for the world. Over the next few weeks, I plan to share some of them with you.

Czech Sojourn

I won’t be blogging for a week or so, as tomorrow morning I’m off to the Czech Republic for a week. Unlike my previous visits to the country, which were based almost entirely in Prague, this trip is based in Jihlava; a city which is almost in the geographical centre of the Czech Republic, close to the border between Bohemia and Moravia.

The trip has been organised by a long-standing friend who is heavily involved with Maidstone CAMRA, and has been nearly a year in the planning. There are around a dozen of us going, and between us we’ll be split between three hotels in the city. As most of the participants have been involved with CAMRA over the years, there will be a strong emphasis on beer and breweries, with several brewery visits arranged, including one to the legendary Bernard Brewery in nearby Humpolec, and a tour of Chotěboř Pivovar in the town of the same name. The former is well known to beer aficionados in the UK, and is sometimes seen at British beer festivals. It is also quite widely available in Prague. The latter is a brand new brewery, where beer is brewed following traditional Czech brewing methods, including fermentation in open vessels, followed by  maturation in enamelled lager tanks for up to ninety days.

Slavonice

Telč

  

There is also some culture included, with visits to the towns of Slavonice and Telč. The former lies close to the border with Austria and was an important staging post on the old coaching road between Prague and Vienna. The latter is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and was created as a moated fortress. Today the city is surrounded by crystal clear fishponds and is described as the most perfect example of the Italian Renaissance north of the Alps. I’ve looked at the websites for both towns and each looks stunningly beautiful.

In many ways, this is the beauty and the attraction of this trip, as although we will be arriving in and leaving from Prague, it will be nice to get away from the tourists and experience some true Czech culture and see what else the country has to offer. We also have the advantage that out tour leader is half Czech, and as well as having been a frequent visitor to the country, he can also speak the language. Now that IS impressive.

Zlý Časy

Most of the party will be flying out on Tuesday morning, but I’ll be spending a couple of days in Prague prior to their arrival, and will meet them at the coach station. My hotel in Prague is close to Zlý Časy, a cellar bar which has become an institution in Prague's beer scene with its eclectic choice of guest beers. The pub is reported to serve 38 draught beers. A good choice of hotel Paul, but selected quite by accident I have to say!

Well it's now way past my bedtime, and I've a flight to catch in the morning, so I will see you all in a week or so's time.

 

Meantime Takeover

Yesterdays’ news concerning the takeover of the long-established, pioneering craft beer brewer, Meantime of Greenwich, certainly set the blogosphere alight, with numerous writers wading in with their four penneth worth. So on the premise of if you can’t beat them, why not join them, I thought I would add some thoughts of my own to the fray.

My first thought is one of congratulations to Meantime’s founder and Head Brewer, Alastair Hook. If anyone deserved his place in the sun, then this knowledgeable and, at times, visionary exponent of all that is best in beer, certainly does. For the last fifteen years, Alastair has unashamedly ploughed his own furrow, undeterred by trends and eschewing the traditionalists who shunned Meantime because there was no cask beer in their portfolio. Instead he carried on, steely determined to achieve his ambition of putting London back where it deservedly belongs; back on the world brewing stage.

I first became aware Meantime through the lagers they brewed for Sainsbury’s, back in the early 2000’s. Included in the range were a Vienna-style lager and a Kölsch. These formed an early part of the supermarket’s “Taste the Difference” range. Well, you certainly could taste the difference with Alastair’s beers. The lagers he produced, were brewed in accordance with the Reinheitsgebot, and were full flavoured, with plenty of malt body, set against some wonderful hop aromas and flavours, from the use of traditional Hallertau and Saaz hops.

It was disappointing when Sainsbury’s dropped these beers, but Meantime went on to bigger and better things, with some innovative takes on former English classics, such as Porter and India Pale Ale. Both beers are sold in large, 750ml, Champagne-style bottles, complete with wired-in corks. They also produce an excellent London Lager, London Stout and London Pale Ale, as well as various wheat, and fruit beers.

Beer garden at Old Brewery, Greenwich

In 2010 I visited what was then Meantime’s sole pub, the Greenwich Union on Royal Hill, Greenwich. The pub is next door to the famous King Richard I; a Young’s pub, also known as Tolly’s, after the former owning brewery, Tolly Cobbold of Ipswich. I wrote about my visit to this pleasant pub here.  In the same year the company opened the Old Brewery Bar & Restaurant with a brewery in the original 1836 Brewhouse of the Old Royal Naval College, Greenwich. A cold, but bright early December day in 2012, saw my son and I braving the cold and sitting out in the beer garden, behind the Old Naval College enjoying a Meantime Oktoberfest and a London Lager.

I alluded earlier to the fact Meantime had incurred CAMRA’s wrath by their refusal to produce any cask-conditioned ale. There is a reason for this; Alastair is of the firm opinion that oxygen is the enemy of good beer. Whilst I bow to his superior knowledge as a brewer with many years’ experience, I disagree slightly with him on this point, as in my opinion, a relatively low exposure to oxygen, at the start of the conditioning process, is beneficial to flavour development within cask beer; although obviously once the beer has finished conditioning, and is ready to be served, oxygen really does need to be excluded to prevent off-flavours caused by oxidation, from developing.

 

Still Meantime is his company (or should that be was?), and the draught, keg beers which Meantime turn out, together with the bottles of course, are all very good. So good that global brewing giant, SABMiller have bought the business for an undisclosed sum. The takeover makes Meantime the first home-grown British brewer within SABMiller’s global business, but an obvious sign of the regard which the brewing world holds the Greenwich based company.

As an integral part of the deal, Meantime’s existing management team, led by Chief Executive Nick Miller and Meantime Founder and Brew Master Alastair Hook, will continue to run the company supported by the current Sales and Marketing, Production and Retail teams. But with SABMiller investing heavily in their new acquisition, a two-part plan for growth will be put into place.

The first part involves expansion of the Greenwich Brewery enabling the continued growth of Meantime’s existing portfolio of modern craft beers – led by the core range of London Pale Ale, London Lager, Yakima Red and Pilsner. This in turn will lead to the company expanding beyond its traditional London heartland, providing more drinkers across the UK and further afield with the chance to enjoy Meantime’s high quality beers.

New owners

Secondly, the installation of a new pilot brewing facility at Meantime’s Greenwich brewery will be led by Alastair Hook and will become a centre for innovation and new product development for SABMiller Europe. The pilot brewery will allow Meantime to continue to create innovative beer styles for Meantime’s Seasonal, Limited Edition and permanent ranges.

All good positive stuff, and there’s nothing here that I could take issue with. Plenty of other writers and correspondents have, however; accusing the company of selling out. Well if someone came along and offered you a pile of cash for the company you started from scratch, wouldn’t you jump at the opportunity?  If the deal also included expansion of your existing facility, and the chance to dedicate yourself to producing even more exiting and innovative brews, would you turn it down? Lastly, if you no longer had to worry about paying back the loans you took out to expand your facility and grow your business, wouldn’t you be a happy bunny? I know I would!

There are certainly some interesting times ahead, and I for one look forward to seeing new and existing Meantime beer becoming much more widely available, throughout the UK.

These formed an early part of the supermarket’s “Taste the Difference” range. Well, you certainly could with Alastair’s beers. The lagers he produced, were brewed in accordance with the Reinheitsgebot, and were full flavoured, with plenty of malt body, set against some wonderful hop aromas and flavours, from the use of traditional Hallertau and Saaz hops.

and, at times, visionary exponent of all that is best in beer, certainly does. For the last fifteen years, Alastair has unashamedly ploughed his own furrow, undeterred by trends and eschewing the traditionalists who shunned Meantime because there was no cask beer in their portfolio. Instead he carried on, steely determined to achieve his ambition of putting London back where it deservedly belongs; back on the world brewing stage.

and, at times, visionary exponent of all that is best in beer, certainly does. For the last fifteen years, Alastair has unashamedly ploughed his own furrow, undeterred by trends and eschewing the traditionalists who shunned Meantime because there was no cask beer in their portfolio. Instead he carried on, steely determined to achieve his ambition of putting London back where it deservedly belongs; back on the world and, at times, visionary exponent of all that is best in beer, certainly does. For the last fifteen years, Alastair has unashamedly ploughed his own furrow, undeterred by trends and eschewing the traditionalists who shunned Meantime because there was no cask beer in their portfolio. Instead he carried on, steely determined to achieve his ambition of putting London back where it deservedly belongs; back on the world brewing stage.

Yesterdays’ news concerning the takeover of the long-established,

Yesterdays’ news concerning the takeover of the long-established, 

Another Bluebell Walk

Bluebells at their finest

Three weeks after my walk through the bluebell woods to the Dovecote at Capel, I was fortunate to go on another pub walk and this time the bluebells were, if anything, even more spectacular.

This walk was to the award-winning Windmill, at Sevenoaks Weald; a real gem of a village pub and a true community local. The occasion was to present licensees Matthew and Emma with their certificate for winning the West Kent CAMRA Pub of the Year 2015. This worthy award follows on from their success in the same competition last year. The couple then went on to win Kent Pub of the Year 2014 followed by Finalist in the National CAMRA Pub of the Year 2014 competition.

The Windmill at Weald - our destination

Despite emailing various interested people, there were only three of us undertaking the walk in the end, as the others either drove to the pub or travelled by bus. Nevertheless it was one of the most enjoyable, and scenic walks I have enjoyed for a long time, with the route taking us through some unspoilt countryside and along little-used lanes. This was despite the route following the same corridor as the A21 trunk road and the main London to Folkestone railway.

The three of us caught the train, one stop from Tonbridge to Hildenborough station, from where we headed off up the hill before crossing into Philpotts Lane. My friend Don was leading the walk, as he had walked this way several times before. After a short distance the road crosses the busy A21 Tonbridge-Sevenoaks By-Pass, by means of a bridge, and soon after afterwards we turned off to the right and headed off in a north-westerly direction. 

More bluebells

Eventually we left the road altogether and set off across some gently undulating countryside. The route took us through a wooded area which contained one of the best displays of bluebells I have seen in a long time; it certainly knocked spots off what we saw a few weeks ago. The photos I have shown here don’t really do justice to the vivid blue carpet which lit up the banks on either side of our path.

After skirting the local golf course, we reached a track which took us past a couple of isolated cottages, before descending through some thicker woodland (and more bluebells), towards railway line. We crossed under the tracks by means of a narrow pedestrian underpass. This was the only wet and muddy spot on the entire walk. We then crossed a couple more fields, divided by a stream, before coming out onto a narrow lane. After passing a riding stables, and a farm, we reached a T-Junction, and turned right into the strangely named Scabharbour Road towards our destination of Sevenoaks Weald. I was back in familiar territory now, as I know this road quite well. Some fifteen minutes later we arrived at the Windmill keen to see which beers were on offer in order to slake our thirst.

That first, much anticipated pint is always even more eagerly awaited by the time one reaches the end of a long country walk, and this pint was no exception. As is always the case at the Windmill, there was an excellent selection of beers on sale, including local offerings in the form of Goacher’s Light, Larkins Traditional, Musket Muzzleloader and Dark Star Victorian Ruby Mild, plus Redemption Big Chief and Truman’s Swift from slightly further a field. I opted for the latter to begin with; an excellent gold coloured pale ale, well-hopped with some thirst-quenching citrus flavours.

The pub was surprisingly empty for a Sunday afternoon, but the barman told us it had been busy with diners earlier. Being the first fine warm day for some time we decided to sit out in the suntrap of a garden at the side of the pub. Here we met up with the other members of our party. A second pint was called for, and this time I went for an old favourite, in the form of Goacher’s Fine Light. It didn’t have quite as much hop character as the Truman’s, but it was still a very good beer.

The excellent beer selection

Shortly after 4pm, we were joined by the Windmill’s licensees, Matthew and Emma. After a few pleasantries, Don presented the couple with their well-deserved certificate for West Kent CAMRA Pub of the Year. We stayed out in the garden chatting to Matthew and Emma whilst enjoying the pleasant warm afternoon sunshine. I also enjoyed a further two beers; Redemption Big Chief, a 5.5% well-hopped Golden Ale, followed by the chewy dark malt of the 6.4% Dark Star Victorian Ruby Mild.

Worthy winners, Emma & Matthew

We said goodbye to our hosts, and left the pub shortly after 6.30pm. Don reckoned it would take an hour to walk back to Hildenborough station, where we would be able to catch the 19.36 train back to Tonbridge. Unfortunately he slightly underestimated the time, and we arrived at the bridge over the railway, just in time to see the train departing from the station below us! Another three or four minutes and we would have been ok.

The walk back from the pub though had been worth us missing the train, as although we stuck to the lanes, we passed some really impressive and, at times, quite stunning multi-million pound properties, all tucked away down the intriguingly named Egg Pie Lane, which leads down from Scabharbour Road to Philpotts Lane. There is certainly some money tucked away in this part of the county.

Missing the train meant an hour’s wait for the next one. There used to be a pub, called the Gate, just down the hill from the station, but this was converted, years ago, into an eatery. After various incarnations, the pub is now a rather good Indian Restaurant. Eric, who was walking with us, took the opportunity to call in for a curry, but Don and I, decided to catch the up-train to Sevenoaks, where we knew we could get a fast train back down to Tonbridge.

I arrived home slightly later than anticipated, but there was a welcoming pot of beef stew waiting for me in the slow-cooker; courtesy of my lovely wife. I was rather hungry following the walk, but fortunately there was sufficient stew for a second helping.

Once again the enjoyment of a gentle ramble through the unspoilt Kent countryside, coupled with the excellence of an award-winning village pub, had proved an irresistible combination. I am looking forward to further such delights as the summer unfolds.

Mild Matters

In my last post about CAMRA’s  “Mild in May” campaign I stated that I was not a huge fan of the style, even though I have probably drunk quite a bit of mild over the course of my drinking career. So in order to set the record straight I thought I’d take a nostalgic look back through the years at some of my experiences of mild ale.

I’m not certain as to quite when mild ale slipped into my consciousness, but then when I started my drinking career I wasn’t that aware of the term “bitter” as a name for a pale and well-hopped beer either. I discovered quite a few years later that the Courage beer brand, known as PBA (Pale Bitter Ale) which my friends and I had enjoyed drinking during the early 1970’s, was in fact a light mild, rather than a bitter.

We weren’t legally old enough to drink, but that didn’t seem to matter back then, as long as you behaved yourself. It also helped that the pub we frequented in Ashford, was where one of our friend’s parents drank.

I think the first time I saw dark mild being drunk, and indeed tried it myself, was a mix, in the from of brown and mild (a half of dark mild, topped up with a bottle of brown ale). The reasons for the popularity of this mix were twofold; first it was common practice for bar staff to give a “long pull”, dispensing slightly more than half a pint of the draught component.  Secondly, the bottled brown ale had the effect of livening up what was often a flat or sometimes even stale glass of mild. As draught beer was considerably cheaper than bottled, diluting a bottle of brown with draught mild had the effect of eking out an expensive drink, whilst making an acceptable alternative. Light and bitter, based on exactly the same principle, was an even more popular and alternative choice, during this time.

CAMRA Publicity Figure

I do recall, again back in my Sixth Form days, that if one was out of pocket, it was possible to purchase a half of mild for one shilling (5p in today’s money!), but you had to be really skint to stoop that low! This though, was probably when I tried dark mild, on its own, for the first time.

Moving forward a few years, to my student days in Greater Manchester, where I discovered mild was a popular drink. By this time I had begun to take more than a passing interest in the brands and styles of beer I was drinking. There were so many different breweries, whose names I’d never heard of, in the Manchester area that it was a real voyage of discovery going to various pubs, just to try a different beer. I still look back on those times with fond memories; talk about a kid in a sweetshop.

The publication of CAMRA’s first Good Beer Guide in 1974, changed all that, as the back of the guide provided a handy reference in the form of a list of all the breweries in England and Wales, (Scotland didn’t get a look in until the following year!). The guide did help to clarify where these various breweries were based, and gave a rough (very rough), idea of what to expect in their pubs.

A student friend and I took it on ourselves to try as many of these beers as possible, and I remember cycling from Salford, practically all the way to Oldham just to sample the mild and bitter from the local Oldham Brewery. We discovered that Robinson’s Mild was a light mild; as was the mild from Hydes. We also learned that Boddingtons and Thwaites both brewed two milds apiece; an ordinary and a best mild.

Throughout this time I still much preferred bitter, as there was something very satisfying about the thirst-quenching “bite” of a well-hopped pint of this beer style. With brewers, such as Boddingtons and Holts adding considerable quantities of hops to their respective bitters, the Manchester area really was a bitter-lover’s paradise.

 After four and a half years in Greater Manchester, I moved to London, where I lived and worked for a couple of years. There was precious little mild available in the capital, not that this bothered me much, but when my then wife and I moved out to Kent; Maidstone to be precise, we found that most Shepherd Neame pubs stocked a quite palatable cask mild.

I mentioned in my previous article about the local CAMRA branch doing its best to keep this beer going in cask form, but despite members doing their best to drink Shep’s Mild, wherever possible, the brewery switched it to a keg only product during the mis-1980’s.

I now live 17 miles from Maidstone, in the pleasant market town of Tonbridge. I have lived here for over 30 years, and again we see very little mild. There are a handful of Harvey’s tied pubs in the area, and some of them make an effort to sell their quite pleasant dark mild. Apart from that, mild might make a very rare appearance at the odd Greene King pub, or sometimes as an occasional guest ale in a local free-house.

When my wife and I ran our Real Ale Off-Licence, we weren’t brave enough to even contemplate selling the odd cask of mild, despite the fact that porters and old ales always proved popular with customers. And here’s the strange thing, some old ales are very similar in taste and style to dark mild; the only difference being they are quite a bit stronger. Harvey’s seasonal XXXX Old Ale is reputed to be based on a Victorian dark mild recipe.

The low strength of mild is for me, the main reason I am not keen on the style. Their low strength might make them ideal for quaffing, but so far as I am concerned they are insipid and lacking in body. The fact that I enjoy the higher strength Old Ales, such as Harvey’s, King’s, Long Man, Hepworths etc, and also strong milds, such as the 6.0% ABV Dark Ruby Mild from Sarah Hughes, proves there is nothing wrong with the basic formulation of mild; just its strength.

Perhaps that is the answer to mild making something of a comeback!

Mild in May?

Mild in May from CAMRA

We’re in the month of May now, and as many CAMRA members will know “May is a Mild Month”. Well it’s not particularly mild at the moment; in fact there’s been a biting cold north-easterly wind blowing for the past ten days or so! Leaving bad puns on the British weather aside for a moment, why exactly does the Campaign for Real Ale choose May as a month to campaign for mild ale?

“Mild in May” must be CAMRA’s longest running campaign. I remember it being around during the 1980’s when CAMRA first set up its Mild Marketing Board; a concept which was unashamedly based on the long defunct Milk Marketing Board. A handful of prominent South-East based CAMRA activists were behind this idea; one is sadly no longer with us, and I’m not certain what has happened with some of the others.

The Mild Marketing Board was all slightly tongue-in-cheek, but there was a serious purpose behind it.  There was also, for the time, some quite amusing publicity material designed to draw people’s attention to this almost forgotten drink. However, one has to ask why did CAMRA put its weight behind a campaign to try and save a style of beer which was dying on its feet? I suppose the answer was that thirty years ago, there just wasn’t the enormous range of different beer styles available to the average pub-goer; certainly not in cask-conditioned form. Your typical English or Welsh pub (Scotland was slightly different), and your typical English or Welsh brewer offered a choice of either bitter or mild. Some offered two bitters (Ordinary or Best), and perhaps during the winter months, an Old or Strong Ale might also have been available, but when mild started declining in popularity and, in many cases, even disappearing completely, the choice for ale lovers was cut in half and CAMRA felt obliged  to do something about it.

It all seemed pretty noble at the time, and I admit that I was sucked into the campaign. The problem was I wasn’t over-keen on mild and thirty years later I am still not over-enamoured with the style. I am not a beer historian, so I’d better tread carefully here as I don’t want to incur the wrath of those who are. I believe though that the term “mild” originally applied to beers that had not been aged, and which therefore had not developed the lactic sourness associated with “vatted beers” which had been matured for lengthy periods, often in oak vats.

Later the term was applied to malt-driven beers which were only lightly hopped. Such beers were often fairly sweet in taste and were brewed to be consumed in large quantities, often by agricultural labourers or those working in heavy industries, such as mining or metal-working, where there was a need to replace fluids lost over the course of a hard working day.

Because these beers were designed to be drunk in copious amounts, they were of necessity quite low in strength; typically coming in at just over the 3.0% ABV level. Prior to World War II mild was the most popular style of beer consumed in Britain’s pubs, but with increasing prosperity during the post-war years, bitter began to first catch up and then overtake mild as the nation’s most popular beer. Mild even developed an image problem, in so much that it was viewed as an “old man’s drink”, drunk solely by old codgers, wearing cloth caps, tucked away in a dark corner of the Public Bar.

An obvious cliché, but not without a grain of truth during the Britain of the “Swinging Sixties”, so much so that by the time CAMRA came on the scene mild was in terminal decline and was disappearing at an increasing rate from the nation’s bars, and from many brewers’ portfolios. With hindsight, was CAMRA right in trying to reverse this trend and attempting to restore mild to its rightful place in Britain’s pubs?

As a thing of its time, I would say yes, even though, with one or two notable exceptions, I was never that keen on the stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I did my fair share of trying to save this once popular drink. For example, during my early days with CAMRA, when I was a member of Maidstone & Mid-Kent branch, it was policy to support the only cask mild available in mid-Kent; namely Shepherd Neame Mild. Members were encouraged to drink it, wherever possible, in order to help the turnover of the beer in Shepherd Neame pubs, thereby encouraging the brewery to keep it available as a cask-conditioned (Real) ale. Being young and naive, and also somewhat idealistic, I went along with this policy, often putting up with mediocre pints of a not particularly good beer. This was at a time before Shepherd Neame started messing with their yeast and brewing techniques and when their bitter ranked amongst some of the finest in the country. I wince now when I look back at all the superb pints of bitter I must have denied myself just to support a style of beer which was dying on its feet.

Bavarian Weissbier

This is not to say that dying, or even completely lost beer styles cannot be revived. The example of Bavarian Wheat or Weissbier is a case in point where a once popular beer, which had almost died out earlier in the 20^th Century, became the fastest growing beer style in Bavaria during the 1980’s. If mild was seen in Britain as an “old man’s drink”, Wheat Beers were looked upon, in Bavaria, as the province of "maiden aunts" and other ladies of advanced years. The beer though went on to capture around 30% of the local market, proving particularly popular with young people; demonstrating that, in certain cases, once dying beers can be revived.

The proviso here though is they can be revived IF they are good. Bavarian and other German wheat beers are generally very good, even though I am not a huge fan. The same applies to other once extinct or virtually extinct beers; the most obvious example being Porter. Once a massively popular beer in the UK, as well as other parts of the world, the style had virtually died out until a handful of brave pioneers resurrected it. Today, many brewers both here and abroad and especially in the USA, include a porter in their range and very good they are too.

The fact that styles such as wheat beer and porter, and also other beers such as Saisons and even Gose have been revived is largely down to them being good beers, with fine pedigrees and long-standing heritages to start with. Whilst not denying that some UK milds can be good, many were not and this is undoubtedly the reason for their decline. Back in the 1970’s some independent family brewers openly admitted that their mild was little more than their ordinary bitter with added caramel. These were the beers which CAMRA was rushing to defend and indeed promote!

One of the better milds

Fortunately such sharp practices have ceased and the majority of the surviving milds are brewed to carefully-crafted individual recipes designed to showcase the best aspects of the style. So really these beers should be standing on their own merits and not needing a special campaign to promote them. My argument is that “Mild in May” is now a totally superfluous campaign which continues more due to habit than anything else. However noble local campaigns by individual CAMRA branches might be in raising the profile of mild ale, they are only having a temporary effect, and as soon as the promotion ends, sales slump back down to their previous levels. In the same way as Maidstone CAMRA did thirty years ago, these sorts of campaign distort the market and only have a temporary effect on the sales of mild and its overall perception by the general public.

   

Time now to drop it; after all why should a style of beer where the public has voted with its feet and deserted in its droves, be worthy of special promotion? Also, if a campaign of this nature IS going to be run, why confine it to a specific month? If it wasn’t for the alliteration of “Make May a Mild Month”, then it could be run at other times. March has the same alliteration, of course, but perhaps not the mild weather.

To me “Mild in May” is nothing more than a habitual and irritating campaign, attempting to revive a style of beer which the drinking public have lost interest in. But then CAMRA loves these sorts of campaigns with Community Pubs Month, National Cask Ale Week and of course Cider Month, all designed to focus drinkers’ attention on particular aspects of the licensed trade. The latter campaign is now being run in March as well as the traditional month of October, proving there is no need to confine these types of campaign to specific months.

Needless to say, I shan’t be going out of my way to neck much mild this May, or indeed any other month. Not that there’s much chance of stumbling upon the drink in these parts. Local revered independent Harvey’s do produce small volumes of their Dark Mild throughout the year, and also brew a seasonal 3.0% ABV Light Mild, called Knots of May during this month. One of two smaller independents produce the odd drop of mild, but that’s about it, as this part of the country has never been mild territory; at least not since the Second World War.

Doomed to failure an ad from 2006

On form, Harvey’s Dark Mild can be quite quaffable, but I find Knots of May distinctly lacking in both the flavour and enjoyment departments. Part of the problem, of course, is the poor keeping qualities of mild which, given its low ABV and equally low hopping rates, is not really surprising. A cask of the stuff really needs to be shifted in around three days; otherwise the quality starts to really suffer. This isn’t a problem where a pub puts a cask on specifically for a CAMRA event, but at other times of the year the interest in mild ale just isn’t there.

This is why campaigns such as “Mild in May” are, in the end, doomed to failure. It is not possible to create a demand for a product if the demand isn’t there all year round. CAMRA really would be better off dropping this long-running, out-dated campaign and concentrating its efforts elsewhere.