The Castle remains closed

At the tail end of October, last year, I announced that the historic Castle Inn in the picturesque village of Chiddingstone, was set to reopen the following month, after a lengthy period of closure.

Unfortunately, it seems my announcement was rather premature, as three months down the line, this National Trust-owned pub remains firmly shut; as I witnessed the other Sunday when I drove passed for a look.

Yesterday lunchtime I was in the Greyhound at Charcott, chatting to the landlord, a fellow customer plus Mick, who has been Larkin’s drayman for more years than I care to remember. I asked about the Castle, and was told that the pub is now unlikely to open until March at the earliest. This means the pub will have been closed for almost a year, and both the National Trust and surrounding businesses, will have suffered a significant loss in income.

Last October I mentioned Nick Naismith as the man who will be taking over the tenancy. Mr Naismith is a director of Westerham Brewery, and has a good track record with regard to turning round ailing pubs. A few years ago he rescued the Wheatsheaf  in nearby Bough Beech, so if anyone can save this lovely old inn, he can.

However, despite his obvious credentials, it seems that negotiations with the National Trust are taking far longer than originally envisaged. Now I obviously don’t know the ins and outs of this, but the sticking point appears to concern some much needed repairs to this lovely old 15th Century inn.

I posed the question in my original post from April last year, that perhaps the repairs are quite extensive (structural even?), and the that National Trust were left with little choice but to close it until the work is complete. Now unless the works were pretty major, I’d have thought nine months ample time to have completed them, so the news that there’s been little sign of any work taking place at the pub does not give grounds for optimism.

There are also other issues associated with the Castle, including the lack of car-parking facilities, and these combined with the National Trust’s track record of aiming for as high a rent as possible, are almost certainly not helping.

So yet again it’s a question of “Watch this space”, but with spring not that far off and the lucrative summer tourist season following close behind, the National Trust will be extremely foolish, as well as financially irresponsible with its members’ money,  if it allows the Castle to remain closed for a further extended period.

Interrail 1975 Part Two - Northern Europe

The first instalment of this narrative covered the concept and planning of a round Europe rail trip a student friend and I made, back in the summer of 1975, making use of the Interrail Pass. Having caught the ferry across from Harwich to the Hook of Holland, my companion and I made the short train journey to Amsterdam, which is where the story continues.

Your's truly - 41 years ago!

Amsterdam:  The Dutch capital, at the time, was dominated by Heineken and its subsidiary, Amstel. To a certain extent it still is, although as my recent visit proved, the beer scene has dramatically improved out of all recognition over the past 40 years.

We stayed at the Youth Hostel in central Amsterdam. Unlike similar hostels in Britain, and very unlike the Youth Hostel we stayed at in Hamburg (see below), our stopover in the Dutch capital was a very civilised affair, with the doors not locked until 1am and soft classical music played over the tannoy system in the morning, in order to awaken the residents. My only gripe was the triple-rise bunks in the dormitories, which required the ability to climb like a mountain goat, plus a head for heights; and guess who got lumbered with the top bunk!

Heineken’s city centre brewery was still operational at the time of our visit, so we did the obvious thing and booked a tour – one Dutch Guilder if my memory serves me right. The tour of course, included a number of free beers, which were gratefully received at the time.

We visited several Amsterdam bars during our three day stay in the capital. This was my first introduction to Europe’s “café culture”, and I felt I could really get used to sitting outside one of the traditional Dutch Brown Cafés, enjoying a few beers whilst watching the world go by.  

Two things we found slightly less appealing were the small 33cl glasses and the peculiar Dutch habit of scraping the head off the top of the beer with a wooden spatula.  We didn’t go overboard on the beer front though, as of necessity, we were on a tight budget and had to think about matters such as food. Here, a paper cone full of chips, smothered in mayonnaise, came into its own, acting as a cheap and tasty stomach-filler.

Copenhagen:  The Danish capital was our next stop, and being Denmark we found it rather expensive. It’s worth briefly mentioning that our rail journey to Copenhagen involved our train being shunted onto a ferry, as we journeyed from the mainland of the Jutland Peninsula to the large island where the Danish capital is situated.

Elephant Gate - Carlsberg Brewery

We again based ourselves in a Youth Hostel, where fortunately I managed to grab the bottom bunk this time. Our stay in Copenhagen was limited to a couple of days, but we still managed to see most of the sights (Royal Palace, Little Mermaid and Tivoli Gardens) during that time.  As in Amsterdam, we booked a tour round the city’s main brewery,  Carlsberg; a short ride by public transport out from the city centre. I have to say that the original, and no longer operational, Carlsberg Brewery is an undisputed place of beauty; starting with the ornate “Elephant Gate” which forms the entrance to the brewery, but which  carries on through into the brew-house and the fermentation hall.

There was also a generous sampling of beer after the tour; something which didn’t sit too well on an empty stomach. The unseasonably cold and damp July weather also put a bit of a dampener on things as well, so much so that we abandoned the afternoon’s visit to Tuborg; Copenhagen’s other major brewery. This was probably a wise move at the time, but looking back was something of lost opportunity; especially as the plant is now closed.

Hamburg: There’s nothing to report on the beer front here, and little on any other front. The Youth Hostel is worth mentioning, if only because its strict regime required residents to be back before 10pm, when the doors were locked and used a loud and annoying bell to jolt sleepers out of their slumbers at 6am!  So no chance of a wild evening in St Pauli and the Reeperbahn then!

River Rhine - Cologne

The sprawling north German seaport acted as little more than an overnight staging post for the next stage of our journey, and was also the place where Nick and I parted company for a few days.

The plan was for my companion to head south to Stuttgart, where he would be spending a few days with a former girl-friend, who was living and working in the city, as part of her foreign languages course. I would also be travelling south but only as far as the great Rhineland city of Cologne.  I would be staying there with a school friend who was doing a similar language-based course to Nick’s girlfriend. 

The arrangement was that a few days later I would board a pre-selected Munich-bound train, which passed through Stuttgart, and my travelling companion would be waiting on the platform to board the same train. There was no contingency plan, and no real way of getting in touch with each other should something happen to spoil the arrangement, but fortunately, thanks in no small part to the strict punctuality of Deutsche Bahn, things ran like clockwork, and true to form Nick was waiting on the platform at Stuttgart station, ready to be waved off by his girlfriend.

Cologne's impressive cathedral

Cologne: I don’t know what Nick got up to in Stuttgart, although getting back together with his girlfriend obviously featured highly on the list. For my part, I had a great time in Cologne. My school friend was lodging with a widow in the city suburbs, and this lady had very kindly offered to put me up for a few days. What followed were a couple of very beery days, which came as something of a shock to the system after 10 days or so of very moderate consumption.

I was met off the train at Cologne Hauptbahnhof by my school chum, who quickly whisked me off to his workplace, where a “leaving do” of some description was taking place. The reason for his haste was an attractive and highly polished wooden barrel of beer perched up on a table. What was even better was his boss’s instruction to “Make sure Mick’s friend has plenty to drink, and that his glass remains full!” Consequently, by the time the party was drawing to an end, I was viewing the world from a totally different perspective. I don’t know what the beer was, or whether it may have been the local speciality - Kölsch, but it was very nice. After the party ended, we went on to a restaurant with Mick’s boss, where there was yet more beer, plus some welcome and much needed food. 

Brauerei Päffgen

The following day was spent sight-seeing in Cologne; the highlight of which was a visit to the city’s imposing cathedral. We climbed the stairs to the top of one of the spires, from where we had a spectacular view over central Cologne and across the River Rhine. After that it was time for lunch, and knowing my penchant for a decent pint, Mick took me to one of the city’s oldest brew-pubs. Brauerei Päffgen was a bit of a walk from the city centre, but it was well worth it. My friend explained about Cologne’s famous style of local beer – Kölsch, and told me that at Päffgen, the beer was actually brewed on the premises.

Beer from the wood

Apart from being impressed by the fact that the beer was dispensed from large wooden casks, I don’t remember much about my visit to Päffgen, but three and a half decades later I returned to this famous establishment when I was in Cologne for a trade show. That evening, three colleagues and I made our way to Brauerei Päffgen, and enjoyed an excellent evening sampling the equally excellent beer. The photos shown here are from that 2009 return visit, rather than the one back in 1975.

It’s worth mentioning briefly the rail journey from Cologne down to Stuttgart, as the 185 kilometre stretch south to Mainz, is one of the most scenic routes imaginable. The rail line follows the course of the River Rhine, almost hugging the west bank of the river at times, as it negotiates the narrow Rhine Gorge.  High on the hills, overlooking the gorge, are a number of strategically-placed old castles, now mostly ruined, but coupled with the extensive vineyards covering many of the valley slopes, they give a real romantic feel to the region .

We will leave the narrative here for now, as the next time we stepped off a train, apart from when changing on to another, we had traversed the Alps and were in Croatia. That is definitely southern Europe, so I will continue with this "less beery" part of the continent in the next instalment.

Interrail 1975 Part One - Concept & Planning

As this blog is as much about travel as it is about beer, here’s a post which outlines one of my earliest experiences of travelling beyond these shores; back in the days long before the advent of the internet and on-line booking, and harking back to a time when items such as basic mobile phones, let alone “Smart-phones”, were nothing more than figments in the minds of science fiction writers.

Back in the mid-1970’s; I think it was the summer of 1975, although it could have been a year later, a student friend and I embarked on a month’s travelling around Western Europe, by rail, taking advantage of the Interrail pass. This was, and still is – although it has been modified and expanded over the years, a ticket which allowed the holder unlimited travel across the rail networks of all those countries which had signed up to the scheme.

Basically, this meant all of western Europe, plus former Yugoslavia. Eastern-bloc countries (those behind the “Iron Curtain”), were not participants in the scheme, but the prospect of being able to travel from Scandinavia in the north, right down to the Iberian Peninsula in the south, and from France in the west, across to Greece and Yugoslavia in the east, still afforded ample scope for some quite extensive journeys, with plenty of countries to visit along the way.

I travelled with my friend Nick, who I had known since my first day at Salford University. We’d met, whilst standing in the queue waiting to register. We lived close to one another and would regularly meet up for a drink, which fitted in well with our love of beer, and also membership of CAMRA. Nick had tested out the Interrail experience the previous year, although after becoming separated from his travelling companion quite early on in the trip (due to the latter individual losing his passport), had ended up completing most of the itinerary on his own. This time around he was looking for someone more reliable and more responsible; which was where I fitted in.

We settled on the long summer break for our trip, and duly set out to map out our itinerary. Armed with little more than a map of Europe taken from a school geography book, we decided on a circular route, travelling clockwise around the western half of the continent taking in the Netherlands, Denmark, Germany, Austria, Yugoslavia, Italy, France, Spain and then finally back  to England, via France.

With a rough idea of our direction of travel, along with the countries we would be passing through, we moved on to the next stage which was to look at rail routes and train times, and or this we enlisted the help of the Thomas Cook International Train Timetable; a weighty tome which gave details, and train times, of virtually all the main European rail-routes, along with many of the minor ones as well.

This was a job requiring both concentration and attention to detail, so in true student tradition we spent several evenings in the pub, pouring over the timetable, whilst taking notes and jotting down details. (You didn’t think we’d do this in the library did you?) Our chosen location was the public bar of the Honest Miller at Brook where, over copious pints of locally-brewed bitter, served in dimple mug glasses, we poured over map and timetable, fine-tuning our itinerary.

Brook was the village where I spent my teenage years, and where my parents and sister still lived at the time. It is a small village, nestling in the shadow of the North Downs, a few miles outside Ashford in Kent. The Honest Miller was (still is), Brook’s only pub, and at the time was a real unspoilt village local, with two bars; one of which was a traditional public bar with a quarry-tiled floor, an open fire (in winter), and a serving hatch in place of a bar. Even better than this was the gravity-served Whitbread Trophy Bitter, brewed locally in Faversham and based on the old recipe for Fremlin’s 3 Star Bitter.

Thirsty work -all this planning!

During the Easter vacation, Nick had come to stay for a few days (he only lived in London). I think my parents, or my mother at least, were relieved to meet the person their only son would be disappearing off round Europe with, for a month – and literally disappearing as with no modern communication devices, apart from the occasional public call box and the odd postcard home, I would be totally incommunicado. 

During these evenings in the put, we sketched fleshed out the bones of our rough itinerary; deciding on train times, locations we wanted to visit and places to stay. We agreed that in Northern Europe, these would be Youth Hostels, whilst in the warmer south, we would camp. Consequently we would need to carry a small, two-man tent; a burden we agreed to take turns at carrying. We would also, wherever possible, travel using over-night train services, as that way we could sleep on the train (or at least try to), thereby saving on accommodation costs.

 We also listed out what we would need to take in terms of clothing, sleeping bags and camping gear, and what we could get away with by leaving behind. I invested in a decent framed-rucksack, and we both joined the Youth Hostel Association. In addition, whilst staying with Nick’s father, in London, we did the rounds of the various national tourist information offices to pick up maps, brochures, local guides etc; in short anything we thought would be useful for the places we were intending to visit. We also each purchased the all important Interrail pass. I can’t remember exactly where we picked these up, but I’ve a feeling it may have been one of the main London termini; possibly Victoria.

Eventually the day of departure dawned, and we set off from Liverpool Street station and caught the train to Harwich. From there we took the ferry across the North Sea to the Hook of Holland; a rather tedious six-hour crossing. Fortunately the sea was calm, and after passing through customs at the Hook, and being asked a few pertinent questions by the Dutch immigration officials (hardly surprising in view of our appearance – long hair and the rucksacks we were carrying), we were boarded a train heading to Amsterdam.

Now I don’t intend giving a blow by blow account of our trip, so I will confine the narrative to beer-related matters, plus the occasional point of interest, and you will be able to read about this in the next installment. 

All quiet on the western front

It’s been rather quiet on the beer front since the start of January, with not a lot to report. Last Monday I attended a “Business Meeting” held by my local CAMRA branch. These events take place every couple of months and are about as formal as things go in West Kent CAMRA. The branch likes to rotate them amongst the three main towns within the area: Sevenoaks, Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells.

I don’t always go along, but seeing as Monday’s meeting was held at the Primrose; a small, attractive, weather-boarded pub which is just five minutes walk from my front door, I thought I’d better show my face!

Our new branch chairman has a less formal style than his predecessor, and allowed the conversation, and debate to flow; instead of restricting it in a rush to get through the agenda. I rather liked this approach, and may go along to more meetings, even though I am no longer on the branch committee.

Apart from the rather mundane matters of GBG selections and Pub of the Year (don’t call it POTY unless you really intend to get my goat up!), the main item for discussion was the findings of CAMRA’s much vaunted “Revitalisation Project”. “Much ado about nothing”, was my summation; an opinion which was echoed by several others of those present, but leaving aside issues such as the increased status of cider within the Campaign, the chief concern was that of attracting new and active members.

Excuse the camera angle; I was completely sober when I took this shot!

Several ideas were floated around, but having seen many of them tried, and failed, in the past, I kept my mouth shut. The problem is we have over six hundred members on our books, but only see a fraction of them at branch meetings or socials. Monday’s meeting was actually the first one in ages where attendance reached double figures (but only just!).

The pub was reasonably busy for a Monday evening, but this was almost certainly due to the darts match it was hosting, and the presence of us CAMRA members. The sole beer, Harvey’s Sussex Best was in good nick, and all in all I enjoyed the meeting, especially as it afforded the chance to catch up with friends after the Christmas-New Year break.

I’m still none the wiser as to how we will attract new blood into the branch, but I suppose we’ll soldier on in the same vein for a few more years yet!

Spotted Dog - Smart's Hill

By way of a change from my recent, much “heavier” piece about beer pricing, here’s a short post about the visit my son and I made to the charming Spotted Dog at Smart’s Hill, just outside Pensuhrst. I had volunteered to survey the pub for next year’s CAMRA Good Beer Guide; this was after saying a few years ago that I wanted nothing more to do with that particular publication!

My change of heart was sparked much more by a desire to revisit this lovely old 15^th Century inn, rather than doing my bit for the Campaign, but having sat through the preliminary meeting, following our branch AGM, when nominations for possible entries were being taken, I put my name forward in a moment of weakness to help out by surveying a couple of outlying rural pubs.

Sunday wasn’t the best day to turn up, survey form in hand, and I actually kept that piece of paper well hidden. As a seasoned pub surveyor, admittedly one who’s a bit out of practice, I know what to look for and what questions to ask without raising the slightest hint of suspicion. 

Smart’s Hill is little more than a couple of rows of houses sited on high ground, to the south of Penshurst, overlooking the River Medway which, in this part of Kent, is still relatively small in size. Somewhat unusually, for such a rural part of the county, there is a second pub, called the Bottle House, at Smart’s Hill, although the latter is further up the hill in an even more isolated location. Because of their situation, both pubs rely heavily on the food trade but of the two, I would say the Spotted Dog retains much more of a “pubby” atmosphere.

Given this reliance on food, the Spotted Dog was understandably busy when Matt and I arrived, gearing up to cater for all those after a spot of Sunday lunch. Judging by the “Reserved” signs on the majority of the table, booking is advisable; if not essential, and given the dearth of available spaces, we resorted to sitting at the bar. Although the weather has turned milder than it had been recently, both the pub’s fires were lit, and this combined with the beamed, low-ceiling interior, gave a cosy and comfortable feel to the pub.

There were three cask ales on tap, namely Harvey’s Sussex, Larkin’s Traditional and Young’s Bitter; the latter being a guest ale. I gave the Young’s a miss, as ever since this once iconic brewery ceased brewing at its historic Wandsworth home, and threw in its lot with Charles Wells of Bedford, the beer hasn’t been worth drinking. Instead I went with the Larkin’s Traditional, which despite its low strength of just 3.4%, still packs in plenty of flavour whilst being ideal for drivers.

Several parties of pre-booked diners arrived whilst we were sitting there, and it was encouraging to see that several of them were groups of walkers. The Spotted Dog welcomes ramblers, although it does have a sign by the door advising that, “Unless you are God or George Clooney, please remove muddy boots before entering.” As well as welcoming walkers, the pub is also “dog friendly” which, although welcome, is somewhat surprising given its reliance on the food trade.

The Spotted Dog itself, is a 15th century white weather boarded country inn that seems to cling to the hillside, and lies below the level of the road. It is a long low building with a terraced garden area between the pub and the road. Many years ago, there used to be some spectacular views, across the Medway Valley, from the rear of the building, but unfortunately this has now been obscured by the trees on the slope below, which are now reaching maturity.

The bar is right in front of the entrance, in what is the narrowest part of the pub, but the building opens out to the right where there is a larger open area, heated by a welcoming log burning stove in winter. There is also a small “snug” area, just in front of the window. At the opposite end of the building is the restaurant area, although as hinted at earlier most of the tables in the main part of the pub are often also set aside for diners, particularly at busy times. For those who like their warmth, there is also a much larger, open fire place, with an impressive stack of logs to match, adjacent to the passage which leads top the restaurant.

The pub’s popularity is evidenced by the large car park, just across the road, but despite the importance of the car-borne trade, many people do make the effort to walk here, as mentioned earlier, and as I too have done on several past occasions. Providing you time your visit right, it is also possible to travel to the Spotted Dog by bus. The 231 bus from Tunbridge Wells runs along the B2188 road, just below the pub, and you by alighting at the stop just before the turning to Smart’s Hill, you can walk up the hill and enjoy a few drinks without having to worry about driving. Do check the timetable though, and allow plenty of time to retrace your footsteps back to the bus stop, unless you fancy a long walk home!

The price is right?

This post was originally written as a rather lengthy comment on James Beeson’s Beeson on Beer site. It was in response to James’s take on Cloudwater Brewery’s decision to discontinue cask beer.

Now the matter of what some see as a pivotal moment in the modern brewing world, but the more down to earth amongst us see as little more than a storm in a tea cup (beer glass?), has been done to death by several noted bloggers and beer writers. There has been much navel gazing, pontificating and head scratching, which at times bordered on the absurd. I threw in my own four penneth worth, which appeared to upset a few people who disagreed with me trying to put the whole thing into perspective, so I’ve little else that I wish to add on that particular issue.

My comment over at James’s place was primarily in response to his suggestion; one which was also raised by Matthew Curtis at Total Ales, that cask beer is seriously under-priced. The argument is that cask beer is a premium product and should be treated, and priced, accordingly. A retail value of £4 + a pint was mooted, with comparisons being made with many craft beers which hit the £5 or even £6 bracket!

Both James and Matthew, along with several others, view this as the answer to a maiden’s prayer; whereas I see it as both unworkable and something which will price cask beer out of many pubs. My response should also be viewed against claims that CAMRA are partly to blame for the under-pricing of cask beer; something I will set out to dismiss as a fallacy, even though I agree with several of the other things being said about the Campaign in relation to this.

Before we get started, I am a CAMRA member, of over 40 years standing, so I was around not long after the start of the Campaign, back in the “bad old days”. This was when so-called “real ale” was hard to come by; certainly in some parts of the country, but by no means all. Before going any further, I prefer the industry term “cask-conditioned” beer rather than “real ale”, especially as there are many fine beers around which, whilst not meeting CAMRA’s rather dogmatic definition, are “real” in every other sense of the word, and are beers I am quite happy to drink.

There is no need here to go over again how CAMRA was successful in saving cask-ale from extinction and how the Campaign spurned what became a tidal wave of new brewery start-ups, as well as sparking a huge and still growing fascination with beer in all its many styles. This interest in beer turned in to a global phenomenon, and there are now few places on the planet where it is not possible to find decent beer.

Having largely achieved its aims, CAMRA rather lost its way. This was despite a huge increase in membership which some would argue, was partly down to its decision to jump into bed with major pub chain, Wetherspoon’s and offer 50p a pint discount vouchers, as part of the membership package.

Despite a much vaunted “revitalisation project”, aimed at establishing a new direction for CAMRA and attempting to inject new life, nothing much has changed. The project’s findings have been published, although they are yet to be debated and scrutinised by the membership, but at first glance they appear to be little more than just tinkering around the edges. It increasingly looks as though the Campaign has lost a golden opportunity to reinvent itself, and we are left with a typical British “fudge”, but we will have to see how things pan out –a bit like “Brexit” really!

I mentioned the JDW vouchers earlier, and many have questioned CAMRA’s rather too cosy relationship with the pub chain. There have been accusations of poor cellar-practices at some Wetherspoon’s outlets, but as someone who rarely uses his Spoon’s discount vouchers, I may not be the best person to comment on this. I do think though, it is time for CAMRA, which is a supposedly independent consumer organisation, to cut its ties with Wetherspoon’s, in order to leave itself totally free from accusations of bias or, indeed, cronyism.

The subject of Spoons leads on nicely to the thorny issue of pricing, and here it was pointed out that when CAMRA started its campaigning, back in the 1970’s, cask-conditioned beer was normally cheaper than the heavily promoted “keg beers” which the Big Brewers were pushing at the time. The protagonists went on to argue that for historic reasons, CAMRA was keen for the price of a pint of cask to remain low; forgetting, or rather not knowing, the historical reasons why cask was cheaper than “keg” in the first place.

Back in the transition period of the late 1960’s – early 1970’s cask-ale was still pretty much the norm in most pubs. It had been the way draught beers had been packaged, conditioned and dispensed for decades, and the introduction of keg beers would, if anything, ensure that cask remained the cheaper option.

Keg beer requires additional equipment, in the form of in-line chillers, gas dispense systems (including CO2 cylinders and associated regulators), plus fancy illuminated boxes on the bar, in order to serve it. Someone had to pay for this; and that someone was the drinker, but it didn’t end there. The fact that keg beers received heavy promotion, often in the form of expensive TV advertising, meant additional costs which were also passed on to the consumer.

At first people were often prepared to pay extra for the consistency which keg beers brought with them; but unfortunately that consistency came at a price, and as someone unlucky enough to have drunk the likes of Courage Tavern, Whitbread Tankard, Watney’s Red and Younger’s Tartan, I can vouch for the fact they were consistently AWFUL! 

They weren’t flat, oxidised or even vinegary, as badly-kept cask ale could be, and unfortunately sometimes still is; they were dull, incredibly bland and totally devoid of character. In fact you could be forgiven for thinking that most heavily-promoted keg beers hadn’t been anywhere near a barley field or a hop-garden!

The major brewers loved them for their consistency and profitability, particularly given that cheaper and often inferior ingredients were used in their production. Also by being filtered and often pasteurised, they were stable, with a much longer shelf-life once broached, and there was normally very little wastage.

Fast-forward four decades and we now have keg beers which are brewed from some of the finest quality ingredients available, by brewers dedicated to their craft, leading to some truly excellent beers appearing in the market. Unfortunately this is an area CAMRA has totally failed to recognise, and this is my main bone of contention with the organisation. I am sure many other beer lovers feel the same way.

It is also true to say, of course, that there are many breweries turning out cask ales with the same dedication, and the same careful selection of ingredients, and there are some equally fine cask ales out there, but unfortunately there are also some pretty dreadful beers being turned out as well.

Brewers of poor, or indifferent cask beer, get around this by charging rock-bottom prices, and it seems that there are pubs fully prepared to compromise in quality, so long as the price is right. It is equally true there are many drinkers content to drink such swill, because it suits their pockets, but is raising the price of cask beer, as several writers have suggested, the answer?

My thinking is that it would require a massive sea change in the way both the brewing industry and consumers think about beer, and in the current financial climate that’s just not going to happen. Peoples’ disposable incomes are usually finite, and whilst in the longer term some might be prepared to pay a little extra, it’s unlikely to be the £4+ premium that many commentators are demanding.

Now let’s say that some drinkers are prepared to pay more; especially when they’re getting a beer brewed from the finest floor-malted barely, and bittered with the finest aroma hops money can buy. If the beer is cask, WHO will guarantee that this carefully crafted dream pint will not be screwed up by careless handling, sloppy cellar practices, dirty lines (this applies equally to keg beers btw), or by being left on sale when it is obviously past its best.

The simple answer is that with cask beer you CANNOT guarantee this, and this was, still is and always will be the Achilles heel with so-called “real ale”. So good luck trying to tell someone that because cask is a “premium” product, you have to pay more for it; especially when that someone is on a limited budget, or is a pensioner or a worker on a low income, because it just won’t wash.

By insisting on charging substantially more for cask, because of the extra handling it receives, or because of allegedly superior ingredients, smacks of elitism in a manner akin to wine-snobbery. I fully accept that those brewers who do brew decent cask, and there are many of them around, deserve to be properly financially compensated for their efforts, and certain brewers may be able to get away with this. However, when other factors like wholesalers and the distribution chain in general are thrown into the equation, margins begin to get squeezed at other points, so if anything there are pressures on brewers to reduce prices rather than raise them.

For example, I don’t know how many people noticed that Enterprise Inns are pressing SIBA for a reduction of £3 per firkin for beers supplied by its members to Enterprise pubs. This come on top of a £5 a firkin reduction already “negotiated” back in November.

When large pub companies can apply this much clout, what chance is there of small “boutique” craft brewers getting a fair and honest price for their products? Talk therefore of charging a “premium” price for cask definitely remains as pie in the sky; as does talk of “educating the drinker about the value in paying more for his carefully-crafted  pint”.

I can see that suggestion going down really well at the Dog & Pheasant. Goodnight!

A day at the seaside

(Spoiler Alert – this post is not about beer and doesn’t even mention the stuff).

View from the dunes at Greatstone

After 10 days off work, and the same number of days over-indulging; especially on the food front, it was time to get out of the house and get some fresh air plus a change of scenery. I had, in fact, been out on a ramble, prior to New Year, and had also made a number of forays down to the town, but New Year’s Day was dull and dreary, and as I was to discover later, there were not many shops open either.

My wife and I had discussed the possibility of a drive down to the coast, and we agreed we would do this on the Bank Holiday Monday, providing the weather was good. Fortunately the sun was shining when we woke up that morning; a complete contrast to the previous day, so after a light breakfast we set off to drive down to the coast, for a day at the seaside.

We live in West Kent, close to the border with Sussex, and whilst we are approximately an hour’s drive away from the sea, we have a choice of destinations depending on which route we decide to take. For example, if we head due south, we will be in Hastings, whereas heading south-east would take us towards Romney Marsh and the beaches of Dymchurch or Greatstone.

Dungeness

We decided on the latter, with the other-worldly shingle spit of Dungeness as our final destination, so headed up towards West Malling first to pick up the M20 motorway towards Folkestone. Apart from the stretch to the north of Maidstone, the motorway was fairly quiet, and we made good progress.

We turned off just east of Ashford and made our way onto the A2070; a fairly new road which leads down onto Romney Marsh.  I know this area well, having lived and grown up just outside Ashford, when trips to the seaside, across the Marsh, were a fairly regular family occurrence. Eileen and I have also been fairly frequent visitors to the area; although these visits were normally made from the other direction. In fact when our son was small, we rented a couple of different properties in the Rye-Winchlesea area, and enjoyed some really good family holidays.

On this occasion, we drove into New Romney; a pleasant enough coastal town which once had its own harbour; as befitting of a member of the Cinque Ports. Nowadays, the town is a mile or so from the sea, and it was the road down to the seafront that we followed, emerging at Littlestone of Sea. This small settlement was a favourite place to visit, during my childhood, as it has an extensive sandy beach which leads right along the coast; to Dymchurch and St Mary’s Bay in one direction and to Greatstone and Dungeness in the other.

The art-deco Jolly Fisherman at Greatstone

We followed the road to the right, along to Greatstone, which was another favourite spot from my childhood. The main thing which has changed since those days is the loss of the once extensive sand dunes. Back in the 1960’s these extended on both sides of the road, and on the seaward side formed a high barrier over-looking the sea. Apart from a short stretch adjacent to the public car park, these have all but disappeared, whilst on the other side of the road they have vanished completely, to be replaced by housing. The large sandy ridges and dips in between, where my sister and I played as children are, alas no more, along with the welcome shelter these dunes provided when a strong onshore wind made conditions on the beach cold and uncomfortable.

Nuclear power on the Kent Coast

We carried on towards Dungeness, passing on the way the Pilot; a seaward facing pub famed for its fish and chips, and the place we planned to stop for lunch at on the way back. Dungeness is one of the largest expanses of shingle in Europe, and is also an important sanctuary for wildlife. There are two nuclear power stations at Dungeness, designated by the letters A and B. Dungeness A opened in 1965 whilst B became operational in 1983. The older power station closed in 2006, while the newer one has had its licence extended to 2028.

Dungeness is also home to two lighthouses; the oldest of which was first lit in 1904. It is no longer in use as a lighthouse but is open as a visitor attraction. With the sea gradually receding, the need to construct a new lighthouse became more apparent; especially following the construction of the power station, when the light of the 1904 lighthouse became even more obscured.  The current, fully automatic structure, built as a replacement, became operational in 1961.

In addition to the power station and lighthouse, there are a number of dwellings, most of which are of wooden construction. Many are owned and occupied by fishermen, whose boats lie on the beach. Fresh seafood can be purchased from some of these dwelling. Several of the houses have been constructed around old railway coaches, which gives them a characteristic appearance.

Old lighthouse, Dungeness with the new one in the distance

Perhaps the most famous of these houses is the black-painted Prospect Cottage, formerly owned by the late artist and film director Derek Jarman. The garden which is made of pebbles, driftwood, scrap metal and a few hardy plants is the main attraction here; reflecting the bleak, windswept landscape of the peninsula.

We parked up adjacent to the entrance to Dungeness A Nuclear Power Station, just a short hop from the Britannia; Dungeness’s other pub, a concrete structure which has been gradually extended over the years. It was a short walk from the car park, up a steep shingle bank, to the sea. We stopped and passed the time of day with two heavily armed policemen, who were probably glad to relieve the boredom of their patrol around the power station perimeter.

There were a few hardy souls fishing off the beach; due to its steeply shelving shingle, Dungeness is popular with beach fishermen, and I remember fishing there myself, back in my youth. What made the visit interesting for me, was that standing on top of the steep shingle bank, constructed to afford some additional protection to the nuclear plant in the event of a storm surge, it was possible to see both side of the promontory which is Dungeness. I had previously only seen this from the air.

Eileen was however, keen to get back to the car and out of the wind, so once back in the warmth I started the engine and we headed back long the coastal road to the Pilot. We noticed there were even more vehicles in the car park than there had been earlier, and despite managing to find a parking spot it was pretty obvious that the pub was heaving inside, and there we would face a long wait for our fish and chips.

Best fish & chips on this stretch of coast

Undeterred we jumped back in the car and drove the short distance along to Greatstone, where we knew there was a decent fish and chip shop, in the form of Greatstone Fish Bar. Our cod and chips were cooked freshly to order, and were excellent value at just over a fiver each. A plastic cup full of scalding hot tea each, followed by parking up opposite, in the shadow of the dunes, allowed us to dine like royalty, eating our ample and tasty lunch, straight out of the paper.

Once we’d finished our meal, I scrambled to the top of the dunes to take a look at the beach. The tide was in, and the sea looked rough, but there were still a few dog walkers taking strolling along just below the seaward signs of the dunes. Eileen, rather wisely, remained in the car.

We drove back to Tonbridge via Camber and Rye. We were tempted to stop off at the latter, but we will save the delights of that lovely old town for another day; especially as we will be able to travel there by train (assuming the crazy strike affecting Southern Trains is over soon).

Journeying back inland through such delightful places as Northiam, Newenden and Hawkhurst, reminded us of how lucky we are to live in this idyllic corner of the South East. It was still light when we arrived home, but the light was beginning to fade, so once indoors, it was a question of lighting the fire, and pouring ourselves a nice stiff drink, after what had been an excellent day out.