Style over substance?

An 11% abv Barrel Aged Imperial Stout, described as the UK’s most expensive beer, was launched last week, selling for a staggering £1,000 per 330ml bottle. The brewery behind the beer, are Leeds-based Northern Monk Brewery.

What makes the beer unusual, if not unique, is the fact it was brewed at the summit of Ben Nevis, the UK’s highest mountain. Somewhat unimaginatively,  the beer is called “Ben Nevis,” and Northern Monk believe it qualifies for the title of “highest altitude brew” in British history.

Few would argue with that claim, but I’m sure many would ask why did four members of Northern Monk’s staff, including founder, Russell Bisset, hike all the way to the summit of  the 4,000ft peak, carrying the 90 Kg of equipment and ingredients necessary for this unique brew? The initial brewing stages of mashing and boiling were presumably performed at high altitude, and the brew was then carried back down from the mountain, to undergo primary fermentation.

The beer then underwent two months ageing in a whisky barrel, donated by the Ben Nevis Distillery in Fort William. As if all this was not enough, the beer includes ingredients foraged from the mountain, such as blaeberries (also known as bilberries) and "Dew of Ben Nevis" water, which is also used in the production of Ben Nevis Whisky.

Although there are only 50 bottles of this heavily hyped beer available, are there sufficient people,  prepared to fork out a grand each, for a small bottle of beer -  BA Imperial Stout or not? Given the hype and all-round, one-upmanship surrounding much of the craft-beer industry, there probably are enough people with more money than sense beer connoisseurs, who will snap up this limited edition brew; even at such a ludicrously inflated price! 

None of this sells the beer for me, (certainly not at that price!), and where does this glorified PR stunt leave the ordinary drinker?  Northern Monk brew a wide range of excellent beers, which are generally well-received by an increasingly discerning audience, so what were they trying to prove with this one?

The short answer is they were raising money for a charitable foundation, so as well as the opportunity of owning a unique and limited edition beer, there is an added incentive for anyone looking to make a purchase. All proceeds from the sale will be donated to the “For the North Foundation,” a grant scheme created by Northern Monk back in September, in support of projects that are “designed to benefit the North, its people and its communities.”

The first bottles of Ben Nevis beer were auctioned off earlier this month, at an event held at  Northern Monk's  Manchester outlet. In keeping with their monastic theme, the brewery refer to this taproom as the "Refractory,"  and have a similar establishment in Leeds.  More than £7,000 was raised on the night ensuring funding for the first project.

Northern Monk Founder, Russell Bisset, said: “This has been a groundbreaking project to be a part of. "When we launched the For the North Foundation, our intention was to create pieces of high-impact activity that will raise awareness and encourage donations. Brewing the UK’s highest altitude beer at the summit of Ben Nevis seemed like a pretty good place to start!”

Make of this, what you will. Is this altruism of the highest order, is it just an over-blown publicity stunt, or is it something in between?  One thing's for certain, even if I'd just won the lottery, I wouldn't be buying a bottle!

The "Friendly Light"

There’s something warm and welcoming about the friendly light shining out from a pub window, on a dark winter’s night. I was reminded of this the other evening, whilst driving home from work. My route takes me to the edge of the “estate village” village of Leigh, before turning off, towards Hayesden  and Tonbridge, via Ensfield Bridge.

It’s quite easy to miss the turning, which is between a row of houses and the Fleur de Lis pub; although the welcoming light shining out from the pub, does make things somewhat easier. The pub itself is an attractive mid 19^th Century building sited a short distance from the village centre, on the junction of the road which leads down to the station.

Like much of Leigh the Fleur is built in a particular style, and this is due to the influence of two wealthy families who constructed many of the distinctive buildings present today. The stately pile of Hall Place, is the best known, but there are others including Forge Square and the School Master's House.

When I first became acquainted with the village, the Fleur was a Courage pub, but today it is owned by Greene King. Since the closure of the nearby Bat & Ball, several years ago, the Fleur De Lis is now the only pub in Leigh itself; although the Plough Inn, located to the east of the village in Powder Mill Lane,is still trading.

I’m pretty sure the Fleur must have changed its opening hours, as in previous years I only recall the light shining out on a Friday evening. This year, its welcoming glow has been shining out every day of the week, signifying a 5pm (or earlier), opening.

I only noticed the light from the pub, a couple of weeks ago, after the clocks were put back an hour, due to the change from British summer time, as during the hours of daylight it would be nowhere near as visible.  During the winter months, my homeward commute changes from a pleasant drive, through some attractive countryside, to something a little more challenging.

The road twists and turn, as it descends towards the crossing over the River Medway, before rising sharply, as it skirts the outlying flanks of Bidborough Ridge, and it is on some of the bends and ridges that one inevitably ends up being dazzled by oncoming drivers, who are too lazy to dip their increasingly powerful headlights. So whilst my commute is a joy in summer, and is also fine on a crisp winter’s morning, it is nowhere near as much fun on a dark winter’s evening.

It is therefore good to see the light shining out from the Fleur, guiding me to the turning. As I slow down to make the sharp right-hand turn, I can see right into the pub, and the illuminated interior looks particularly appealing. So much so that there is almost a compelling reason to stop and call in for a quick drink.

The “Friendly Light” was the logo and trademark of the long defunct brewery of Thompson and Son Ltd, who were based at Walmer, on the Kent coast. The brewery sign depicted a lighthouse atop the nearby White Cliffs, guiding sailors away from the treacherous water below.

For copyright reasons, I am unable to display the old, “Friendly Light”  poster on this page, but you can find a copy on the Brewery History Society website. My photo, which is purely for illustrative purposes, is one I took of the old lighthouse at Dungeness. If you look carefully, you can also see the new lighthouse, in the background, to the right.

Grolsch bows out

By Source, Fair use, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1723636

In what is seen as yet another shake-up of the global beer market, the iconic lager brand Grolsch is set to be discontinued in the UK after 35 years on supermarket shelves. This follows reports in recent weeks, that Grolsch had been de-listed in both Tesco and Asda supermarkets. 

Industry insiders had been saying that supplies of the lager had dried up, and now the reasons behind this have become clear. The brand's owners, Asahi of Japan, have ended their joint venture agreement with Molson Coors,  meaning the brand will no longer be available in the UK or Ireland. 

Molson Coors brewed Grolsch at their Burton-on-Trent plant, but the brand has been passed from pillar to post in recent years, following various takeover and mergers within the industry. Grolsch became a part of the SABMiller group in March 2008, but following their merger with Anheuser-Busch InBev in 2016, the brand was spun-off to Asahi, along with other former SABMiller beer brands such as Peroni and Pilsner Urquell.

By Ccyyrree - Own work, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org

The reasons for the decision to drop the brand are unclear, but Grolsch , has experienced a decline in popularity in recent years with sales in supermarkets and shops falling 22 percent in the last year alone. It is not known how much of this fall is due to completion from cheaper rivals, or to the rise in popularity of lower alcohol alternatives. Some commentators have even suggested the increased interest in craft beer may also have been a contributing factor, although personally I am rather sceptical about this.

The Grolsch Brewery was founded in 1615 in the Dutch town of Groenlo, which at the time was known as Grolle. The name Grolsch, means “of Grolle.” At the time of its takeover in 2006, Grolsch was the second largest brewer in the Netherlands (after Heineken), with an annual production of 320 million litres. 

Today, Grolsch is best known for its 5% abv pale lager, Grolsch Premium Pilsner and for its characteristic chunky green bottles, with their swing-top lids. The latter eliminates the need for an opener. The bottles are very robust, and the flip-top cap means they can easily be sealed by hand without the expense of new crown caps. This has made them very popular with home-brewers. 

To me, Grolsch always seemed one of those “other brands,”  a second-division sort of beer, if you like; although to be fair I always found it pleasant enough to drink.  When my wife and I had our off-licence, Grolsch was never a big seller, but it did attract a small band of devotees. 

I am sorry in a way to see it go, but reading between the lines it has been elbowed off the shelf by larger and more “powerful” brands, backed up by the power of mass-advertising. 

I expect home-brewers too, will be sorry to see it go, as will people like me who use the bottle for other purposes. The 1.5 litre bottle in the photo, is my 20p jar, which holds around £300 worth of coins, when full. It is now heading towards its second full load. I acquired it as a novelty, during my time at the off-licence.

Blackburn Skyline - with apologies to a certain Mr Dylan

Like virtually everyone who owns a Smartphone, I get news-feeds popping up on my screen from time to time and, thanks to Google, which has already made a careful note of my preferences, likes and dislikes, quite a few of these news stories are beer related. (I receive quite a few music-related ones as well, but that’s a different story).

One item which caught my eye the other morning, was footage taken from a drone flight, over the centre of Blackburn, Lancashire – the town with the 4,000 holes, according to the Beatles’ song, “A Day in the Life.” The footage captured the demolition work being carried out on the former Thwaites Brewery which, until recently, dominated the local skyline.

The decision to demolish the nine storey building tower, was made last year after Thwaites brought to an end 211 years of brewing in Blackburn. This followed a downsizing of the company’s brewing activities and the sale of a number of key brands to Marston’s (Wainwright's and Lancaster Bomber); a move that saw brewing transferred to a new, purpose-built plant at Mellor Brook in August 2018.

I am writing about this because Thwaites was one of the first breweries I visited. It wasn’t actually my first brewery tour, as that honour went to Marston’s of Burton-on-Trent; somewhat ironically, in view of what is written above. Instead the trip I made to Thwaites’ Blackburn plant was the first of many such tours I have organised over the years, initially for a university society, but then on behalf of my local CAMRA branch.

That trip would have taken place sometime in late 1974, when I was in my second year as a student at Salford University. What struck me at the time, especially after having visited Marston’s the previous year, was just how modern Thwaite’s brewery was. The nine storey structure, topped with its illuminated sign, dominated the town and made quite an impression on a 19 year old youth who was just starting out on his drinking career.

We were told that the brewery had been completely re-built, on the same site, during the mid-1960’s, and was constructed as a traditional tower brewery, whereby the process starts at the top, and then gradually flows downwards, using gravity to do the work. I don’t remember much about that visit, although I do recall being taken into a nearby pub, by the tour guide, for a few complimentary pints. I also recall, measured, cylindrical electric pumps being the order of the day.

With this in mind, I found it sad to see footage of this impressive structure being pulled to the ground. The end of an era and the result of changing tastes within the beer market and the pub trade.

A quick word about Thwaites, with particular reference to the four years I spent living in the Greater Manchester area. The company produced three cask ales at the time, a light, but well-hopped bitter, which was very quaffable, plus two milds. The ordinary mild was dark and creamy, whereas the Best Mild was much paler in colour.

The majority of Thwaites pubs were situated in the north of the region, with a large concentration in and around the town of Bury, which lies to the north of Manchester. I understand this followed the takeover, by Thwaites, of the local brewery several decades previously.

Bury was quite easy to travel to, either by bus, from Salford, or by means of the train from Manchester Victoria. For the train buffs out there, that particular line was unusual in having a third electric “juice” rail, similar to that in use on the old Southern Region of British Rail.

During the early 1990’s, the line was converted into a tramway, using the original track-bed and stations, but now powered by an overhead electric system. It forms part of the Manchester Metrolink, and incorporates another former rail line which runs from the city centre, to Altrincham.

For Salford University students, it wasn’t always necessary to journey to Bury for a pint of Thwaites, because toward the end of my second year, the brewery obtained the contract to supply the Student Union Bar. The beer was tank, rather than cask, but still streets ahead of the Tartan and Tetley fizz stocked previously.

Returning to the main story, for a minute or so,  I suspect the good people of Blackburn must be sad that the brewery which looked down on them for all these years, and which was such a familiar sight, is alas no more. But if you are fortunate to come across a pub selling Thwaites, and in particular, their dark mild, treat yourself to a glass and raise it in memory of a vanished piece of our heritage.

Photos - Wikipedia and Lancashire Telegraph

November - the sombre month

As I wrote a couple of years ago, November is probably my least favourite month of the year. It’s something of a “nothing” month, and whilst some would say it’s the herald of Christmas, and as such gives people something to look forward to, it’s much too early for all that. No doubt we’ll still have to suffer the over-blown wave of commercialism, which kicked off as soon as the schools returned from their summer break.

Although the weather’s been relatively benign this past week - unless you live in those parts of the country that have experienced torrential rain and flooding, there’s still something about November which makes people want to curl up in front of a nice warm fire and hibernate. 

Following our short “mini-cruise,” last weekend, I returned to work at the beginning of the week to find that orders have virtually dried up. So after months of working flat out, we’re now scratching around looking for things to do.

The reason for this fall off in orders is the majority of our customers panicked at the thought of not one, but two potential “no deal” Brexits. Not wishing to run out of product, they understandably overstocked, and are now sitting on sufficient goods to see them through, well into the New Year.

The upside to this has been a chance to catch up with certain tasks, which has been put to one side in the rush to meet these artificial deadlines, as well as having a good clearout. Ironically, we’re embarking on a major expansion project, having just taken on an adjacent unit, so interesting times lie ahead.

The quietness at work has been mirrored on the beer front. I unfortunately missed last Sunday’s visit to Westerham Brewery,  organised by my local CAMRA branch, as Mrs PBT’s and I were travelling back from Southampton at the time. But on the plus side, I gather that Harvey’s Old Ale has been spotted in a number of local pubs, so I must get out and track down some of this delectable dark ale.

That’s about it for the time being, apart from slowly replenishing my stocks of both bottled and canned beer for home consumption. I’d deliberately allowed stocks to run down over the summer months, and with foreign trips few and far between this year, there’s been little coming in from overseas.

Canned beer seems very much in vogue at the moment, and I picked up a couple of real bargains earlier today at our nearest Tesco store. First and foremost amongst these have been 4-can packs of Life & Death IPA from Vocation Brewery.  This feisty US style IPA slips down rather too well for a 6.5% ABV beer, but is proving itself as one of the most enjoyable beers I have found in recent years. It is also unfiltered and un-pasteurised and, according to the can, may contain sediment.

I’m not sure if this complies with CAMRA’s increasingly stretched definition of “Real Ale” or not, but frankly I couldn’t care less. I do wonder though whether by discounting some of their excellent beers in this fashion, this Hebden Bridge based brewery might be exposing themselves to cash flow problems, whilst at the same time turning themselves into just another commodity brewer.

The same applies to the other beer I purchased this morning. Six-pack 330ml cans of Pilsner Urquell, costing just £5 a pack at the supermarket giant, also cheapens the brand. As a consumer, I’m not complaining, and I’m certain that brand owner Asahi, can afford to discount in this manner, from time to time.

Perhaps it’s time though for a major re-think of the whole beer marketing game?

On the waterfront

After departing from Southampton at around 5pm on Friday, and sailing through the night, our cruise ship, the Queen Elizabeth, docked at the Belgian port of Zeebrugge early on Saturday morning. Neither Mrs PBT’s or I were in a hurry to get ashore, particularly as our ship wouldn’t be sailing until the early evening.

We’d both enjoyed a good night’s sleep, so much so that I at least had forgotten that my good lady wife had ordered breakfast in bed. She was in the shower, when a knock came at the door and one of the waiting  staff arrived with her tray of bacon and eggs.

I say “her,” because I was not partaking of such frivolities, even though room service, if wanted, was included as part of our package. Unlike Mrs PBT’s, I’ve never been a fan of eating in any bedroom, whether in a hotel or onboard ship, so as soon as she’d reappeared I left her to enjoy being pampered, and set off  to locate the buffet on one of the Queen Elizabeth’s upper decks.

There was a choice of at least two buffet and dining areas, so I picked the least crowded. After scanning what was on offer, I loaded my plate up with a couple of rather tasty Cumberland sausages, a few rashers of back bacon and a good helping of scrambled eggs, and sat down at a vacant, port-side window seat. I was just wondering what to do about an accompanying hot drink, when the waiter turned up with a most welcome jug of coffee.

From my vantage point, nine decks up from the waterline, I had a good view of the comings and goings on the quayside below. There were various groups of passengers disembarking, in order to board the coaches, waiting to transport them away on a number of pre-booked, shore excursions, but myself, Mrs PBT’s  and our two travelling companions had a more leisurely day in mind.

I mentioned in a previous post that the excursions were expensive and, apart from the trip to Ghent, were heading off to places I’d been to before. Our plan was to make a short trip ashore, have a look around, buy some Belgian chocolate and a few Belgian beers, and then come back onboard in time for that most British of institutions - afternoon tea.

As well as the various coaches, I noticed the appearance of red, single-deck buses at regular intervals, and quickly sussed out these were the means of leaving the port. I’d already read that no pedestrian traffic is permitted in the port area, and that passengers wishing to make their own way ashore, were required to use the buses, so after finishing my breakfast, and a second cup of rather strong coffee, I set off back to our cabin to collect my good lady wife.

She in turn had gathered our fellow travellers – her sister and her brother-in-law, who were staying in the adjacent cabin. After donning our coats as protection against the rain, we set off to leave the ship. It’s worth mentioning here that everything onboard the Queen Elizabeth is controlled by means of electronic cards, issued to all passengers, and unique to that particular individual. The cards are pre-charged against the owner’s credit card, and as well as providing proof of identity, can be used for all purchases onboard ship.

With an all-inclusive package, the only things to buy are alcoholic drinks, luxury items (perfume and jewellery), an upgrade to one of the more exclusive restaurants and the service charge added in lieu of tipping individual stewards or waiters. On leaving the ship your card is scanned, and it is scanned again on return. Additional airport-style security checks are also carried out on all returning passengers.

Once on terra-firma we boarded a bus, which transported us the short distance to the cruise terminal. I was expecting a passport check to be carried out, but with our passport information already linked to our card, there was no need. Apart from a souvenir shop, plus a series of desks offering various excursions, there was very little at the cruise terminal. It was also very windy outside, which did not please my wife – something about messing up her hair!

I discovered at the terminal that we could have instead taken a bus to the nearby seaside town of Blankenberge, where there is a lot more in terms of shops, cafés and bars. Unfortunately my companions seemed much less keen on the idea of a couple of hours in Blankenberge than I did, and my suggestion to Mrs PBT’s that I could shoot off there on my own, met with one of those real old-fashioned and very disdainful looks.  

Directly opposite the terminal, and overlooking a marina, there was a factory-outlet shop, selling a large variety of keenly priced, Belgian chocolates. We dived in, and my wife and her sister bought more chocolate than they could possibly eat (some of the boxes were gifts, apparently). I resisted the temptation, although I did succumb to a few of the strategically-placed freebies.

On the way into the shop, I’d noticed the tell-tale canopies of a bar, further along the marina, so when Mrs PBT’s went to pay for her purchases, I enquired, all innocently, as to the whereabouts of the nearest café. Just a short distance along the marina said the lady at the till. “Would you recommend it?” I asked. “Certainly,” was the reply.

My suggestion of a short walk and a coffee met with universal approval, and a few minutes later we piled into the American-themed, Café Chevvy's. There were a group of locals sitting at tables close to the door, (typical dour-looking Belgians as my wife later described them), but the proprietress was friendly enough and told us we were welcome to sit wherever we liked. 

After ordering either coffee or hot chocolate for the rest of the group and a Westmalle Dubbel for me, we sat there enjoying our drinks and taking in the atmosphere of this typical and rather pleasant Belgian café. There wasn’t a huge variety of beers on the menu, but what was available was quite respectable. I tend to prefer the dark Dubbel-style beers, to the paler, but stronger Trippels, and I have always enjoyed Westmalle’s version

Naturally my Westmalle was served in the correct badged glass, which came as no surprise to Eileen, but quite impressed her sister. Café Chevvy's was a lucky find in an area consisting largely of modern apartments and unused yacht berths. It was also a good place to spend some time with our travelling companions and to enjoy the excellent Trappist ale.

All good things come to an end and having another beer would have been pushing my luck, and to be honest one strong Trappist beer was sufficient at lunchtime. I paid the bill and we made our way back to the cruise terminal. Before boarding the shuttle-bus, I called in at the souvenir shop, which was actually offering a range of reasonably-priced beers.

I came away with a Brugse Zot Dubbel, from De Halve Maan Brewery, plus a selection from Fort Lapin; an artisanal brewery located just outside the centre of Bruges. After that, it was back on the bus and back on the boat, ready for afternoon tea.

Under starter's orders

Our short “taster cruise” certainly lived up to our expectations, and the only regret was it was too short. I knew this would be the case, but I didn’t want to big things up too much, especially as Mrs PBT’s had selected and booked this mini-break herself.

So before getting on to the whole cruise experience, I want to make a brief mention of the pub we called in at for lunch, on our drive down to Southampton. As mentioned in the previous article, we booked our mini-break in partnership with Mrs PBT’s sister and her husband, so it made sense for us to travel down to the cruise terminal in one car.

My brother-in-law offered to do the driving; a gesture I was happy to accept. We set off mid-morning, having met up at the in-law’s place at Bexhill. Being a weekday, the traffic was quite heavy, particularly on the A27 as it passes through Worthing. We were therefore glad of the chance to stop for a spot of lunch, at a pub that our host couple knew quite well.

The pub in question was the Old Stables at Fontwell; roughly halfway between Arundel and Chichester. It is situated in the grounds of Fontwell Park Racecourse and is open to the general public. The pub comprises a large open-plan restaurant with a bar where drinkers are welcome. 

Despite its rustic sounding name and old world appearance, there is nothing “old” about this  Mitchells & Butlers-owned, Vintage Inn, as it is a modern building, carefully designed to look old. This deception was good enough to fox me, and regardless of my feelings about fakery, I have to say I found the Old Stables to be a thriving, attractive and well-run pub.

It was fairly quiet when we arrived, but it didn’t take too long before the pub started to fill up. We were offered the choice of either ordering  at the bar, or opting for table service. We went for the latter, so directed to a group of tables at the far end of the building. 

My experienced “drinker’s eye” had already clocked the St Austell Proper Job, sandwiched in between the pumps for Pedigree and Doom Bar, so as I’d been excused driving duties for the duration of the weekend, I went for the Cornish beer. My pint was quite drinkable, although I felt it lacked condition, but I still scored it at 3.0 NBSS. 

We each made a selection from the fixed price lunchtime menu, which offered two coursed for £12.95. I opted for the lobster fishcake, rightly surmising that the chicken & mushroom pie, “topped with puff pastry,” would be a stew with a pastry lid. Why call something a pie, when it plainly isn’t? I also made the right call with my dessert choice of  “Hot drink and a mini pudding.”

With the cruise offering an extensive choice of different courses, I didn’t want the weekend to begin with too many calories, so a flat white, plus crumble of the day, allowed me to enjoy a coffee, plus just the right portion of dessert.

All in all, a pleasant and welcoming pub, situated at just the right position for a break in our journey. If you are tempted by a longer stay, possibly in conjunction with a day at the races, the Old Stables shares a car park with the next door Travelodge.