Hazy, cloudy, milkshake, or just plain murky - it's supposed to look like that!

 Beer was never meant to be cloudy, certainly modern beers. Throughout the ages brewers went to great lengths to perfect methods of delivering a beer that looked attractive to the drinker, and this became far more important with the advent of clear, glass drinking vessels. They could get away with cloudy beer when stoneware, or pewter tankards were the order of the day, but glass was much more unforgiving.

One method of ensuring a clear and attractive looking drink for the consumer, was to leave the partially finished beer in the fermenter or subsequent maturation vessel to drop right of its own accord. This could be quite time consuming, so the discovery of finings, such as isinglass, was an important one, especially as it sped up the process by several orders of magnitude. Finings work by causing yeast cells, suspended in the maturing beer, to clump together, so they eventually drop out of suspension, leaving a bright and sparkling end product.

This method was used for ages, but the adoption of filtration as a method to clarify beer, took things to a whole different level, especially with the advent of pressure filtration systems. Filtration is the method most commonly used today, and it is widely used for virtually every type of beer, with the honourable exception of cask conditioned ale. The latter, still relies on finings, added to the beer after racking, to achieve a clear, bright pint, but it is hamstrung by the live yeast that remains at the bottom of the cask.

Careless handling, or not allowing sufficient time for the beer to clear and the yeast to settle, can result in a hazy, or downright cloudy pint, but the majority of cellarmen and licensees are experienced enough not to let this happen. Indeed, those of us who've been drinking cask ale for a long time, have grown to expect a beer which looks bright end sparkling in the glass, and most drinkers worth their salt would quite rightly return a glass of beer that doesn't look right.

Occasionally, despite the best practices in the cellar, a cloudy pint can still get through and this is where the difference between a good and a bad licensee comes into play. The publican who knows what he or she is doing, will change a dodgy pint without question, and also take steps to find out why such a situation occurred. Cloudy beer is either due to insufficient maturation time, or the cask is fast approaching empty, and the sediment in the “belly” of the cask, is being drawn up through the lines and into the customer’s glass.

An inexperienced or sometimes unscrupulous licensee would claim that “It's real ale and it's supposed to look like that!” Over the years that untruthful and rather pathetic excuse has fortunately disappeared, or at least most of us thought it had, until the rise of so-called craft ale/craft keg. Many of these beers are unfiltered, and also un-fined, the excuse being it’s a more natural product, but whilst this this may well be true, the fact that the kegs still contain live yeast, is bound to result in a cloudy pint.

Worse still, rather too many of these “natural” beers don't just have a slight haze but are what many of us have come to describe as “craft murk.” In other words, they are thick, turbid, and just look completely wrong in the glass. The argument put forward by craft devotees is these beers are supposed to be like that – sounds familiar, although who exactly said that, and when they made such a declaration remains a mystery. 

The plot thickens further, if you’ll pardon the pun, as it turns out that some new styles of beers are designed to deliberately appear cloudy, murky if you prefer because “That's what they're supposed to be like.” This is the claim put forward by the brewers who produce these murky beers and the outlets that sell them. Probably the worst offender here is the style known as New England IPA, or NEIPA for short. As far as I'm aware this is a totally made-up faux style of beer, but unfortunately due to hype, peer pressure, the rise of beer ticking -  Untappd, and sites such as Rate Beer, where subscribers sing their praises, or otherwise, NEIPAs and other cloudy/murky beers have acquired a large following.

To me this is yet another case of the "emperor's new clothes", as no one is prepared to call out the people promoting this false style of beer. I say false because the group of small American states in the far northeastern corner of the USA that constitute New England, never had much of a tradition of brewing India Pale Ale. However, as with West Coast IPA, and also East Coast, the term India Pale Ale has become seriously debased, just for the purpose of making money from selling craft murk to gullible people.

I'm not even sure how they make these beers so deliberately cloudy. Does the end product have a surplus of yeast or is the “milkshake” appearance of NEIPA down to bad brewing techniques? Normally, trub, which is the protein and spent hop residue leftover from the brewing process, is left behind in the copper or whirlpool, rather than being allowed to make its way into the fermenter, so is it this protein haze, or other, suspended matter that gives the beer its orange juice like appearance? Perhaps it is no coincidence that aficionados of these beers describe them as being “juicy.”

Personally, I prefer my beer to taste of malt and hops, rather than orange or pineapple, because that's what much of this craft murk stuff looks like when served up. Unfortunately, this type of nonsense has undone much of CAMRA’s good work when it comes to promoting good cellar practises. So now a bar person, with very little knowledge of beer, can quite truthfully trot out the excuse it's supposed to look like that, when serving up a glass of murk to an unsuspecting customer.

I was reminded of this on Friday, when I called in at a well-known local beer emporium in Tonbridge. There was a range of beers including two from Iron Pier Brewery of Gravesend. I opted for the Wealdway IPA, the Wealdway being a long-distance footpath running right across the Kent & Sussex Weald, from Gravesend on the Thames Estuary to Eastbourne, overlooking the English Channel. A friend and walked this particular trail back in 2010, so Wealdway IPA seemed a rather fitting beer, as it brought back special memories.

The barman pulled me a pint, but when I went to pay for it, I noticed the beer was taking a long time to clear in the glass. I asked if it was supposed to be a hazy beer, and was told, “yes.” I wasn’t impressed, as had I known this, I wouldn’t have ordered it, but having paid for it, was willing to give it a try. Fancying a spot of al fresco drinking, I took my pint outside and began drinking it. The beer was all OK, but despite what some might argue, whatever was causing the haze, spoiled the taste, and it certainly wasn't the perfect marriage of malt and hops one would normally expect from an IPA.

Whilst prepared to put this down to experience, I was a little peeved there was no POS material on the bar, or the plump clip, advising that this beer was supposed to be hazy. When I went to “tick” the beer on Untappd, I noticed a friend from West Kent CAMRA had ticked the same beer at the same outlet a couple of hours before me. He too thought the beer should not have been murky, so I messaged him said the same thing.

When I'd finished the beer, I returned the glass, but this time there was a different person behind the bar. I expressed my dissatisfaction with the beer and informed him that a friend had also questioned its cloudiness and posted about it on Untappd. Following my disclosure, the beer was removed from sale, as it was either coming to the end of the cask, or possibly it hadn't dropped right bright in the first place. Whatever the reason it should not have been served, but obviously mistakes can sometimes occur, even in the best run establishments.

Once the error was highlighted, the pub acted in the right way by removing the offending beer from sale. The barman apologised and asked if I'd like another beer instead. I declined this kind gesture, primarily because I needed to get home. Had I been a bit more on the ball I could at least asked for a stamp on my pub loyalty card, the one they use to promote cask ale. One stamp per pint, and after 10 stamps the card holder is rewarded with a free pint.

I’ve droned on too long, but wanted to make the point about the way craft murk has muddied the water. For the record, and just to make sure I wasn’t talking out of my rear end, I checked Iron Pier’s website, as well as on Untappd, and like any other self-respecting cask ale, Wealdway IPA is supposed to drop bright. Vigilance pays in these uncertain times!

 

 

Speak up that person at the back!

I was up in that there London place on Tuesday evening, for an after-work event held at a rather unusual, but quite stunning pub that I've never been to before. The occasion was the British Guild of Beer Writers Annual General Meeting, held this year at the Samuel Pepys, an impressive and stylish Shepherd Neame house, tucked away at the end of a narrow alley leading down to the River Thames.

If my memory serves me right, this was the 3rd Guild AGM I've attended, but held in a room tucked away at the far end the Samuel Pepys, and not sufficiently far enough away from the rest of the pub, meant much of the proceedings were drowned out by the sound of customers who seemed especially noisy that evening. A faulty PA system didn’t help either, which meant I didn’t really hear much of what was going on.

Some might say that was a good thing, but I couldn’t possibly comment on that, although if you ask me in private, I might tell you why. Fortunately, acting chairman, Jonny Garrett mentioned that his theatrical training might assist, and many of us were grateful that he was able to project his voice to the back of the room. Jonny of course, is the author of a "Year in Beer", one of
the best books I’ve read about beer, its seasonality, along with guidelines of how to experience the very best of what the UK has to offer, beer-wise, throughout the year.

The book was a present, the Christmas before last, and I was thinking, should I perhaps have brought my copy along to the meeting and asked Jonny to sign it? Possibly, or does that smack rather too much of unashamed fandom? But Jonny’s address, and the way he manged to keep the meeting going, in spite of the noise issue, helped save what was otherwise a rather un-edifying experience, with little of interest to report. So, let’s concentrate on the pub, instead.

As mentioned previously, the Samuel Pepys is tucked away down a narrow turning off busy Upper Thames Street. Known as Stew Lane, which once afforded direct access to the Thames. “Stew” was a medieval term for a brothel, and from the nearby landing watermen would have ferried passengers across the river to Bankside opposite, an area largely free of the rules and regulations of the City itself. On Bankside there were theatres, bear-baiting pits, and a large number of the aforementioned stews. As a man who frequently went in pursuit of pleasure Pepys, no doubt, often made the short journey across the river.

The pub which carries his name, is housed in a 19th Century former Thameside tea warehouse, and originally opened as a pub in the early 1970s. Today’s pub appears much more recent in its construction, and after stepping inside from Stew Lane, a flight of steps takes the visitor up to a bright and airy, loft-style bar and restaurant, boasting many character features, such as wooden floorboards, full height windows and exposed brickwork. From a small balcony that overhangs the Thames, the Samuel Pepys offers spectacular views across the river to Bankside, the re-constructed Globe Theatre, and the former Bankside Power Station, home of the Tate Modern Gallery for many years. Looking to the left, the visitor will see Southwark Bridge and dominating the skyline, adjacent to London Bridge station, is the Shard. Completed in 2012, this is the tallest building in Britain.

My journey up from Kent took me by train to London Bridge, where I changed platforms for a one stop  ride, across the Thames, to Cannon Street station. It was then a five-minute walk to the Samuel Pepys. As already mentioned, the pub is owned by Shepherd Neame, but before ordering a drink, I headed to the section reserved for the Guild AGM, introduced myself and signed in. As far as beers were concerned the organisers were running a tab, behind the bar, but slightly disappointed at discovering the Whitstable Bay Pale had run out, and not fancying Spitfire (the other cask offering), I opted instead for a pint of Beavertown Neck Oil.

Keg, of course, but quite quaffable and I followed it with a pint of East Coast IPA, from Bear Island – the latter being Sheps’s “craft ale” brand. Again, drinkable and refreshing, although I’m not sure about the East Coast tag. A little later on I bumped into BryanB who writes under the name of Beer Viking. I noticed he was pouring a bottle of Shepherd Neame Double Stout, into a glass, this full-bodied 5.2% abv stout, being one of Shep’s Heritage brews. Keen-eyed Bryan had spotted the bottles behind the bar and said the brewery’s bottled India Pale Ale was also available.

At 6.1%, and with a busy day at work ahead of me, the following morning, I gave that one a miss, and called it a day after the three pints, but where was the food? As someone who's always up for a free scoff, I was a little disappointed there was no buffet as I'm pretty sure previous AGMs have featured food of some description. I would have to wait until I got back to Cannon Street, but that moment came much sooner than I was expecting. Shortly after 9pm, the bar staff came around and informed us that the pub would soon be closing, so could we all please drink up and vacate the premises. This seemed rather strange, but I suppose it was Tuesday, and in the heart of the City of London, most drinking is associated with people meeting up with colleagues and friends for a couple of beers after finishing work, before catching their trains home to rural suburbia.

Any thoughts too, of a final drink went out the window, but as it was a school night, and I needed a clear head the following morning, it would not have been a good idea, anyway. Some of the attendees talked about going onto the Pelt Trader, a modern looking dive bar below Cannon Street station, that I passed on my way to the meeting. I've heard of this pub before, and apparently it is a well-known craft beer bar. It sells cask as well as craft keg and takes its name from the Skinner's Company Hall opposite.

It looked much busier at 6:30pm than it did when I made my way back to the station, some three hours later, but it was food I was after, much more than beer, and whilst salvation came in the form of a steak-bake slice from Greggs, at London Bridge, it was the portion of chips from Kebab Express, almost opposite Tonbridge station, that sustained me on my walk home. An interesting evening out, with a new pub visited and another potential port of call bookmarked for next time. In addition, there were some interesting and friendly people to chat with after the meeting, but I shall probably give the AGM itself a miss, next year.

 

 

Choice overload is killing the beer market

After the excitement of last Friday's day trip to Manchester, this week ended on a much quieter note. As hinted at, in a couple of previous posts, I've been playing catch up in the garden and am pleased to report that with the planting out of the sweetcorn and the sunflowers, carefully nurtured from seed, my outstanding outdoor tasks are more or less complete. There’s obviously routine maintenance to be carried out, but by and large everything in the garden is under control.

I've been catching up too with a few of the beers I brought back from last month’s visit to Yorkshire. When all lined up, there were eight in total, all of them brewed locally in the county, and some from breweries that many of you will recognise. All of them were purchased Asda, and what's more there are two lots of “four beers for the price of three.” They obviously like their Asda in that part of West Yorkshire, as after visiting the chain’s large store in Shipley, we discovered an even larger superstore in Keighley.

I'd called in at the store to top up the car, with cut price diesel for the journey home, but it seemed rude not to take a look inside the store, and as well as the beers, I managed to pick up couple of summer T-shirts. Again, these were on offer, this time priced at £5 each, or two for £8. That's my summer wardrobe sorted, as these garments will go with the others I've been accumulating, in readiness for this autumn’s Mediterranean cruise.

More about that another time as what I want to do here, is ask if two of Asda's Yorkshire stores can not only offer a good deal on bottled beers, but promote local ones as well, why can't their outlets here in Kent do the same? I say this because on Friday, Eileen and I called in at Asda at King’s Hill, near West Malling ostensibly to stock up on boring stuff such as household cleaners and washing liquid (Mrs PBT's reckons Asda are the cheapest supermarket for these items). Whilst there I took a look at the beers, and guess what, I didn't see any locally brewed beers. The same applies to the company’s Tunbridge Wells outlet.

I'm not sure why this anomaly should come about, although I'm probably not wrong in thinking price plays an important role here. So whether Kent breweries are slower that their Yorkshire counterparts, when it comes to offering discounts, or whether the decision to buy local is left up to individual stores, isn’t clear. All very strange but come to think of it I haven't seen any local beers recently in Waitrose either. At one time their Tonbridge store was a regular stockist of both Westerham and Whitstable beers, but now, in common with most of the other local supermarkets it's national brands or nothing in the PBA (Premium Bottled Ales) sector. There’s also a load of garish looking cans filled with hazy, “citrus bombs” from the likes of Beavertown, Tiny Rebel, Northern Monk, and Brew Dog.

The canned craft sector is another mystery, and thinking back to visit I made earlier in the year, with West Kent CAMRA to the brand spanking new By the Horns brewery, at Salfords near Redhill, I still haven't seen any of that brewery’s cans on sale locally. This is despite the new plant churning out umpteen varieties of different beers, all packed in gaudy-looking can, by the caseload. I said at the time, and I shall say it again, “Where is all this beer going?” More to the point where is it being sold? Export perhaps, because beers from By the Horns have been conspicuous by their absence in local supermarkets and off-licenses.

It’s my opinion that the brewing industry has definitely reached the stage where capacity is way in excess of actual demand, and somewhat ironically, we're back to the situation that existed in the final quarter of the last century. This was when a number of large, red brick, Victorian brew houses, many dominating the towns where they were located, were operating at a level way below their actual capacity, as the demand for traditional top fermented ales, began to plummet. Driving this change was a change in public tastes, as drinkers switched to lager. The latter were often brewed in gleaming, modern looking, energy efficient plants, close to the motorway network, leaving many of these lovely old Victorian breweries as surplus to requirements.

When I think back of some of the breweries I visited, over the past half century, places such as Wethered’s at Marlow, Morland at Abingdon, Fremlin’s at Faversham, Caledonian in Edinburgh, Hall & Woodhouse at Blandford, Dorset, and even Young’s of Wandsworth. All of these breweries were massive undertakings, and I would lay money on them all operating well below their potential capacity. With the explosion in numbers of new small, independent brewers, in the first quarter of the new century, we are seeing the exact same issue of overcapacity, and this has led to a significant squeeze on the remaining family-owned brewers. 

These are the firms that survived the lean years of the “keg revolution” of the 60’s and 70’s, and whilst a resurgent demand for locally brewed cask ale, driven in the main by CAMRA, led to a reversal of their fortunes, at least for a while, some are still feeling the pinch. Furthermore, although the merges and takeovers, that had led to the formation of the Big Six brewers abated, during the early years of CAMRA, they soon started picking up pace again. Along with out and out takeovers, there were several instances of a falling out between family members, with some wanting to cash in their chips, whilst others from the family wanted to keep going. Oxford brewer Morrell’s is one example, where a family feud led to the brewery and its pubs being sold off, and there were several others as well. Ridleys, King & Barnes, Gales, and Young's spring to mind, and Lincolnshire brewer Batemans, nearly suffered the same fate. Fortunately, in that instance, company chairman George Bateman and his family were able to raise sufficient cash to buy out the shares of his remaining siblings and the brewery was saved.

There has obviously been a significant change in people's drinking habits, and the way in which they interact and socialise. Today, far more drinking is done in the home rather than in pubs and bars, and it's difficult to know where it's all going to end. It's one thing to have such a wide choice of different beers, although as the number of choices increases, so does the difficulty of knowing what is best. Many of us are creatures of habit, so does seeing supermarket shelves stacked high with arrays of garishly coloured cans of beer, often from breweries that only the most devoted of beer geeks will have heard of, improve our lives in any way?

Instead of increasing our freedom to have what we want, the paradox of choice suggests that having too many choices actually limits our freedom. Known as choice overload, choice paralysis, or the paradox of choice, people become overwhelmed when presented with too many options to choose from, and end up playing it safe, by sticking with brands they know and feel comfortable with. Attempting to overcome this paradox is one of the major issues facing new entrants to the beer market, and before going any further, let me say there are already far too many brewers trying to compete in a diminishing market.

I’m sure that I will be pilloried in CAMRA circles for saying so, but too much choice really is killing the beer market. Furthermore, when that choice is driven, by poorly formulated, un-balanced cloudy murk, brewed by the proverbial “man in a shed” it really is time to wake up and smell the coffee – or should that be the malt and hops!

 

 

 

Last knockings in a wet and windy Manchester

Moving swiftly on, as there were still a further eight pubs left unticked on my list – the one where Martin was complimentary about my handwriting. We had parted company, as he hurried off to the barbers shop, where his son works, to get a haircut, whilst I still had several more Manchester pubs to visit. The one I was heading for was the Peveril of the Peak, a famous Mancunian institution, and a real classic town boozer.

Surrounded by much taller office and apartment blocks of more recent origin, this small, wedge shaped, Victorian pub is a real survivor, standing shorn of the rest of the original terrace at the apex of a junction between two converging roads. The Peveril’s ornate tiled exterior hides an even more splendid interior, full of polished wood, stained glass, and traditional bench seating along the walls. According to What Pub, this unspoilt gem is still run by the city’s longest serving landlady, although she wasn’t evident when I squeezed inside, taking shelter from the increasingly wet weather that was doing its best to dampen spirits on an already damp, Friday afternoon.

I entered what I assumed was originally the public bar, from a door to the left of the building, and despite finding the place packed full of drinkers, not only managed to get served, but also found a bit of space along the bench seating, to rest my legs. With a final step total for the day of over 26,000, I must have reached at least 20k by that stage, so somewhere to park my behind was much appreciated. There was a good, mixed crowd of drinkers in the Peveril, that afternoon, but the service from the youngsters behind the bar was quick and efficient.

The cask beers were from Millstone (Tiger Rut), Titanic (Plum Porter – of course), and Brightside Brewing (Mancunian Hoppy Blonde). I went for the latter, and it proved a good choice, as according to my entry on Untappd, I rated it as the "best beer of the trip," so far! Despite the excellence of the beer, I’d reached that mid-afternoon lull, where you just want to slow things down, chill out and sit there, taking everything in. I’m reasonably certain I’d been to the Peveril before, but as I said before, one’s memory plays tricks after half a century. One thing I do remember is the pub sold Wilson’s ales back then, and despite the brewery and its brands being owned by Watney’s, Wilson’s Original Bitter was available in cask form, and wasn’t a bad drop.

Time was marching on, so I decided to head back towards Piccadilly. The intensity of the rain had increased by now, so I was glad of the pack-a-mack I’d brought with me. My route took me passed Manchester Central Station, once one of the city’s main railway terminals, but closed to trains in 1969, when it was deemed surplus to requirements. I remember the station from my time in Manchester. It had only been closed for a few years, but it had that uncared for and unkempt look about it, and was used, at the time as a car-park.

The Greater Manchester Council bought the building in 1982, and work began on converting it into an exhibition centre. This opened in 1986 as the Greater Manchester Exhibition and Conference Centre or G-Mex, although it was subsequently renamed Manchester Central, in honour of its railway history. The venue hosts the annual Manchester Beer Festival, held each January by the Manchester branches of CAMRA.

I was using my Smartphone to help me navigate my way back into the city centre, when I received a WhatsApp message from Martin, informing me of the time of his train home, and asking if I was about for a final half? After a further exchange of messages, we settled on the City Arms, close to the Central Library, so I made my way there, and found him waiting for me inside. The pub was packed, and with no chance of a seat we made our way to the bar, where the choice of beer was Odin, from Brightside Brewing, plus three offerings from Neptune. The latter are a micro-brewery from Merseyside.

I opted for Neptune's Wooden Ships, because it reminded me of the classic, laid-back track of the same name, recorded by both Jefferson Airplane and Crosby, Stills & Nash (I like both versions,
btw). This American style, pale ale was, according to my Untappd notes, slightly hazy, but perfectly drinkable. Untappd also records that I ticked this beer at the Vine Inn, which is next door, and the Oakham Citra that I enjoyed later at the Vine, was supped in the City Arms.- talk about the perils of retrospective entries, whilst under the influence of slightly too much beer! Returning briefly to the City Arms, we did manage to find a space to at least stand in peace, even though it was in the corridor, leading back out to the street. Sited behind the serving area, and with its own hatch for those desperate for a drink, it was a little cramped, but it was Friday afternoon in a city that knows how to have a good time.

Martin and I parted company after this. His train departed 45 minutes before mine, which meant I still had time for one last beer and one final pub from my list. As mentioned above, the Vine Inn is next door to the City Arms, and if you want an even longer pub stagger, without the “crawl” then the Waterhouse, which is the other side of the City Arms, is the pub for you. This JDW outlet also extends right through to the street behind, but there wasn’t time for a visit, it wasn't a pub back in 1975 and, more importantly, it wasn’t on the list.

I thanked Martin for his company, and for taking time out from his busy schedule as he set off, through the rain, to catch his train. I stepped straight into the Vine Inn and was surprised to find it a lot quieter than its immediate neighbour. I didn’t take any photos of the interior, but there was a room, at the left which extended to the rear of the pub. The bar counter was on the right, but there was also a separate drinking area, up some steps to the right of this. The lack of photographic evidence means the only beer I can report on is the Oakham Citra, which was in fine form.

It was my turn now to depart, so I took a leisurely stroll back to the station, stopping on the way to pick up a “meal deal” from the Greggs, opposite Piccadilly Gardens. The roast chicken sub-roll, with mayo and watercress, combined with the bag of crisps and bottle of water, formed the perfect “train picnic” – as my Irish work colleague would describe it, especially when combined with a coffee, purchased at the station. Retrospective apologies though, to the girl I sat next to, and the one opposite as well, although I’d like to think I consumed my feast as politely and delicately as possible.  

I only sat there, as I had a reserved seat, but with only a handful of additional passengers boarding at Stockport, I could perhaps have moved to an empty one. That also, might have seemed rude, but as I didn’t nod off, and start snoring, I stayed put. It was my immediate fellow travellers who dozed off, but the magazine I had with me, plus the ever-changing views from the window, as the train sped south, were sufficient to keep me awake. The train was around 20 minutes late into Euston, not that it mattered, as there was plenty of time for my connection back to Tonbridge. It was the Northern Line again, but this time to Charing Cross, which meant slightly less walking, than at London Bridge.

I really enjoyed my long overdue return to Manchester and the only puzzling thing is, why did I leave it so long? The only answer I can put forward is that life got in the way. Working 9-5, raising a family, changing jobs, and having to deal with the everyday stuff that life throws at us. There was also the six-year period when Eileen and I had our off-license, a task where we were virtually tied to the business, with very little free time for holidays or even the odd day out.

Don’t make the same mistake, make time for those trips, go and visit those friends and relatives you’ve been promising to see for ages, book that special holiday you’ve been promising yourself and set out on that long-distance trail you’ve wanted to do, since way back when. I’d like to think that with the new found freedom that comes from being semi-retired that I’ve at least been doing some of these things, but there’s still plenty more to do. The only question now, is what comes next?

 

 

 

Four classic, Mancunian pubs

You left me at the end of the last post, on the platform of Salford Crescent station waiting for a train back to Manchester Victoria. I'd recently received a message from Retired Martin, saying that he was in Sinclair’s Oyster Bar, in the Cathedral Gates area of the city. Awaiting my presence. Unfortunately, I had just missed a train, and the next one was showing as cancelled. It was then that the legendary friendliness of the Mancunian people came into play, something which took me back to my days as a student living in the city.

This was because I got chatting to a chap on the platform, who had missed the same train as me, but had a much longer journey. York was his final destination, And he was trying to work out the easiest and quickest route. He was also the perfect gentleman, helping two elderly ladies, by lifting their cases up onto the luggage rack. He also retrieved them, as the train pulled into Victoria station.

I wished him luck with his journey, and then hot footed it along towards Sinclair’s. The equally legendary Mancunian rain had started, but it was only a short walk and time is of the essence, I didn't stop to retrieve my lightweight, foldable raincoat from my backpack. I'd already passed Sinclair’s, along with the adjoining Old Wellington Inn earlier that morning, on my way down to the station. Fortunately, I'd stopped to take some photos, which is just as well consider the damp conditions that greeted my return.

Sinclair’s and the Old Wellington were two of the top pubs on my list of must visit establishments, not only because of that undoubted age, but more importantly because they were survivors, pubs that somehow managed to avoid the wrecking ball and the all-pervasive mantra of the 60s and 70s, which was to knock it all down and start again. I think it was the writer Richard Boston who famously said that Manchester's city fathers had decreed, no brick or stone should be allowed to lie on top of another for more than 30 years.

I mentioned in the post before last, when I was enthusing about my forthcoming visit, that these two ancient watering holes were under wraps for most of the time I lived in the city. This was when the Arndale shopping centre was being constructed around them. Half a century is a long period of time, and the memory sometimes plays tricks, but I have a feeling I did manage to visit the Old Wellington shortly after it reopened, This would have been shortly before I left Manchester. Twenty years afterwards, following the massive IRA bomb, that devastated a large section of the city centre, the Wellington and Sinclair’s were once again moved to their current, and more appropriate positions, in the vicinity of Manchester Cathedral.

According to Martin’s earlier message, he was upstairs. More importantly he had confirmed that this Samuel Smiths pub was stocking hand-pulled Old Brewery Bitter, and that it was on good form. I saw the pumps for myself as I entered the pub, but thinking, as in Sam’s legendary London watering hole - the Chandos, near Trafalgar Square, that Sinclair’s would have a bar upstairs as well. It did, but it was closed, so after greeting Martin I headed back down the steep wooden staircase and ordered myself a pint of Tadcaster’s finest.  

Rich, creamy and topped with that famous Yorkshire head, the OBB was indeed on top form, and priced at just £3 a pint, it was a real bargain as well. It was also the first pint of the day too and was an excellent beer to begin a day’s drinking. The upstairs rooms at Sinclair’s remind me of those at the Chandos, although the notices reminding customers of Sam Smith’s quiet pub policy with its strict ban on the use of mobile devices, are normally in evidence at the company’s London pubs.

Martin and I cracked the odd joke about it, and it didn't actually stop me from sneaking a couple of photos of a secluded part of the upstairs area, but these were the only ones I was brave enough to take. I told Martin it was good of him to take time out from his busy schedule, and pop across the Pennines from his home in Sheffield, to meet up and act as my semi-official tour guide. I had produced a list of a dozen city centre pubs that I thought worthy of visiting and had posted it earlier on the Beer & Pubs Forum. We were obviously not going to get round all of them, and in the end, I visited six, whilst Martin did four. The reason for the discrepancy was RM had combined his Manchester visit with an obligatory haircut, as his youngest son is a qualified barber, who lives and works in the city.

Martin claimed we were lucky to get a seat at Sinclair’s, because had it been a match day for either of Manchester’s two main football clubs, the place would have been absolutely rammed. As it was, we were able to enjoy an excellent pint of OBB, whilst catching up on the latest pub and beer news. The subject of lunch came up, as did that of “must visit” pubs. One of these was the Marble Arch, in Rochdale Road on the edge of the city’s northern quarter. The award-winning Marble beers were at one time brewed at the pub, but the company now has its own stand-alone brewery, in Salford.

Martin recommended the food offering at the Marble Arch, but on the way suggested we call in at the Hare & Hounds, one of two pubs quite close to one another in Shudehill. The other pub is the Lower Turks Head, and this one looked the most traditional of the pair, certainly on the outside. The Hare & Hounds is on CAMRA’s National Inventory of historic pubs, due to its interior of exceptional national, and historical importance.

The Hare & Hounds it was then, which suited me as I've been ticking pubs listed on this inventory, for many years. Both Robinson’s and Holt's Bitter was available, and to our minds seemed a better alternative to Robinson’s Dizzy Blonde. We watched as our pints were pulled with a nice, thick, creamy head, and as the beer settled in the glass, we made our way to the front room of the pub where there were some spare seats. We continued catching up on events, holiday plans, etc, before heading up hill towards the Rochdale Road, and the Marble Arch pub.

Unfortunately, the rain that had eased off earlier, returned with a vengeance, and we were quite wet by the time we reached the sanctuary of the pub. This was my first visit to the Marble Arch, and I have to say what a smashing unspoilt boozer it was, with a wide range of Marble beers on offer. Beer, food, and conversation appeared to be the order of the day, with no noisy distractions such a jukebox or a TV. There were six cask ales on sale at the bar, plus a number of keg beers, all brewed by Marble. I opted for Manchester Bitter, even though I was tempted to go for the beer called “Pint”, just so I could have the perverse pleasure of requesting “a pint of pint!”

I've had the latter beer several times, but I don't think I've ever tried the Manchester Bitter, and can report that this hoppy, dry tasting, and very bitter beer really did hit the spot. Martin took the opportunity to order himself a burger and chips, so I followed suit. Being conscious of my figure, and also wanting to leave room for some beer, I went for the mini burger option instead. It was very good when it arrived, so much so that I was left thinking I should have gone for the full-size version!

As I said earlier, the Marble Arch was a real drinkers pub and it's probably just as well, we got there when we did, because it was starting to fill up with a good mix of customers. It was the sort of pub I could have spent the rest of the afternoon in. There were other places to visit, and Martin also needed that promised haircut. We headed back into the city down towards the Arndale Centre and then cut through towards the town hall, and the Central Library. Shortly afterwards we parted company for a while, with Martin heading off to the barbers, and me making my way towards another classic pub.

You will need to wait for the next post, to find out what it was, but rest assured, it was another classic and unspoiled Manchester pub, and one worth making a bit of a detour, to find.