Gales HSB - another blast from the past

Back in April I wrote a post about Walter Hicks Special Draught – HSD, a beer brewed by Cornish brewers, St Austell. It’s a beer that many drinkers thought had disappeared, and without beating about the bush, it’s a real, old fashioned strong best bitter, of the type we don’t see much of today. The article was sparked by the appearance of HSD in a well-known Tonbridge pub – the Nelson Arms, and it is the Nelson again where another strong, best bitter, complete with a proper traditional taste and feel, has featured on a couple occasions recently.

The beer I’m talking about has a similar three letter acronym to HSD and is called HSB. This strong, English bitter, is russet in colour and is packed full of rich, soft-fruit flavours, which are definitely not citrus in nature! Its full name is Horndean Special Bitter, Horndean being a small village 8 miles north of Portsmouth, on the main A3 road from London. 

Until 2006, Horndean was the home of George Gale & Co Ltd, a brewery with a distinctive range of traditional, bitter ales. It was founded in 1847 but found itself on the market when a member of the owning family decided to cash in his share of the business. Gales was bought by well-known, London brewers, Fuller, Smith & Turner in 2005, for £92 million, and closed the following year, after which production transferred was to Chiswick.

In the years leading up to the takeover, Gale’s beers – primarily HSB, were often seen in the free trade, and were stocked locally, until quite recently, at the Dovecote Inn at Capel, near Paddock Wood. During the early years of my association with West Kent CAMRA, HSB sometimes featured as a guest ale, at the Little Brown Jug at Chiddingstone Causeway, but apart from those two outlets, I haven’t come across the beer in ages. Several days ago I did, and enjoyed my first pint in years of HSB at the Nelson. It was every bit as good as I remember it. Then, the following day I noticed it on sale again, this time at the famous Lewes Arms, a wonderful unspoilt pub at the top of the Sussex county town, in the shadow of Lewes’s imposing castle. Some might call it serendipity, whilst others will just dismiss it as coincidence, but it’s worth noting the care that new owners, Fuller's put into this beer, as HSB is still brewed with the same Gales yeast that gave it its famous flavour.

I first enjoyed Gale’s beers on a visit to a small village in Surrey. This would have been in the mid-1970’s, whilst I was a student, at Salford University. A friend of mine had access to a small cottage, in the equally tiny village of Eashing, near Godalming. The property belonged to his mother, and her partner, and having borrowed the keys (with permission), my friend Nick and I, along with our respective girlfriends, headed down into deepest Surrey, to enjoy a long and relaxing weekend in the Surrey countryside. The four of us met at Waterloo station, and boarded a train to Godalming, but not before enjoying a few pints of Brakspear’s, at the Hole in the Wall opposite.

The latter was a well-known free house, occupied a railway arch opposite the station, and was renowned for offering a good selection of cask ales. This was the first opportunity any of us had to sample a few pints of Henley’s finest, so we made the most of it, before catching our train. Without a car at our disposal, we walked from Godalming station to Eashing, and it was getting dark by the time we reached Nick’s mother’s cottage. There was an Ind Coope pub in Eashing, serving top-pressure Ind Coope Special Draught, but little else of interest to budding beer enthusiasts, like ourselves. Fortunately, our host had done his homework and knew, from previous visits, there was a Gales pub in Milford, the next village to the south, situated just off the busy A3 trunk road.

There were a couple of bikes at the cottage, so the following day Nick and I cycled to the pub, leaving the girls to their own devices. Whilst there, we enjoyed Gale’s Light Mild, Bitter plus of course, HSB. I’ve been trying to identify the pub itself, as none are listed on What Pub under Milford, but a look at a website for closed pubs indicates that the village had two pubs, both named after lions, one red and the other white. Looking at the photos, I’ve a feeling it was the Red Lion, situated on the Portsmouth Road, that we visited. The pub closed in 2009 and is now used as a Tesco Express. The White Lion fared slightly better, by managing to hang on until 2015.

Going back to the takeover of Gales, for a moment, the brewery at Horndean, had suffered from years of under-investment, and whilst Fuller’s had intended on keeping it open, the costs of the work required to bring it up to modern standards, would have made this uneconomical. This is the reason why the plant closed when it did. As I mentioned earlier, Fuller’s  managed to save Gale’s unique strain of yeast, and as well as HSB, they produce another former Gale’s beer, this being the unique Prize Old Ale, an extremely strong, old ale, that is matured in oak casks, prior to bottling. The bottles were originally sealed with a cork, but I understand more conventional crown caps are now used instead.

Unlike its Cornish counterpart HSD, this other survivor from the past, is much more widely available, and HSB can often be found on the bar, in Fuller’s tied houses. The reason I haven’t seen it, is there are very few pubs owned by that brewery, in this part of Kent, and the only one I can think of is the George & Dragon in Westerham, an imposing old inn, overlooking the green in the centre of the town. The brewery have plenty of pubs in London though, so the capital might be your best bet, it you are after that elusive taste from a largely bygone era.

 

Banished from the house!

I want to take a look back at the week before last, which was the period when Mrs PBT's was feeling quite poorly and sorry for herself due to a bout of Cellulitis. The condition had left her feeling tired, nauseous and off her food, a situation that was made worse when she started the prescribed course of strong antibiotics. It became bad enough that even the smell of cooking was sufficient to make want to throw up, so for a couple of evenings Matthew and I decided it was best to eat out.

Every cloud has a silver lining as they say, and this was no exception, the only trouble was, apart from the well-known chains, there aren't that many pubs in the local area that serve food on a Monday evening. One place that I knew kept its kitchen open, was the Spotted Dog, at Smarts Hill near Penshurst, but just to make sure I phoned up and made a reservation. The lad and I arrived shortly before 7:00 pm but were rather bemused to discover there was no free parking space available in what is, quite a substantial car park.

This seemed strange, although the cause soon became apparent, because milling around in the car park, were a large number of athletic looking individuals. At first, I thought they were ramblers, but it soon dawned on me that they were runners, looking at maps and comparing notes with one another. They were obviously about to depart on a run, and the logical conclusion Matthew and I jumped to was that this group of individuals were rather cheekily leaving their vehicles in the pub car park before setting off on a run.

Not amused, I phoned pub, to inform them I booked a table but was unable to get my vehicle into the car park. “You're not cancelling, are you?” replied the lady who answered the phone. I replied that I might have to, as there was nowhere to leave the car. She told me that there was some space to the left of the pub, in front of the garage, and that as the roads were slightly wider there, we should be alright. I did as instructed, even though I'm not a fan of leaving my vehicle, in an exposed position on an unlit country lane.

We walked back to the Spotted Dog expecting to it heaving, but there was ample room inside, especially for people like us who had booked a table. We were directed to one close to the fireplace, and facing the bar, but first we wanted a drink. I said to the lady behind the bar that I’d expected the pub to be bursting at the seams, given the number of cars parked outside.  She laughed and explained that most of these belonged to members of a local running club, and the idea was they would leave their vehicles in the car park, go off for their run, and then return to the pub for a drink, a bite to eat or perhaps both. That was the plan, although I wondered how many runners would actually do this. Just in case most of them did, I suggested to Matthew that once we were suitably fed and watered, it would be best to leave the pub before it was taken over by a load of dusty, sweaty and potentially smelly runners.

This aside, we ordered some drinks, a pint of Harvey’s Best for me as, disappointingly, the Goacher’s Silver Star that had been my original choice had gone off (why not turn the pump clip around?) The other cask beer was the ubiquitous Larkin’s Trad, a 3.4% ordinary bitter which, despite being the brewery’s best-selling brand, has never been my favourite. Matthew, on the other hand, didn't need much persuasion to go for the Hofmeister, although it was me who spotted it!  He's obviously not such an experienced pub-goer as me.

We were a little disappointed to find the pub had changed its menu, because until quite recently, Monday evening was Curry Night at the Spotted Dog, and whilst there was a single Korma dish featured on the menu, most of the options were pretty standard pub fayre. One item that took my fancy was “pie of the day,” although when the time came to order I didn't really fancy the idea of Steak and Stilton as a filling. Instead, I decided to be boring and went for good old fish and chips. Matthew chose burger and chips, so no surprises there, and we didn't have to wait long either before the food was served up. It was pleasant enough, although my piece of battered fish looked too small to be a fillet of cod. As if in response to this, I couldn't help overhearing another diner commenting on the size of the fish to his companions.  He too seemed to be wondering what type of fish it was, but despite this neither of us plucked up the courage to ask the staff.

As planned, we managed to leave the pub in good time, and certainly before any panting and sweat soaked runners turned up to spoil the show. Thank goodness I said, because I can't think of anything worse than a cross country run, as it reminds me too much of school, and the times we used to bunk off, and hide in the woods, before tagging on the end as the rest of the group came panting back, having completed the full course. It reminds me of the time I was chosen to be a marker for the House Cross-country Competition, and I sent a group of runners along the wrong path. This wasn’t deliberate, although I got into trouble for it, but my argument was the PE master hadn’t explained the route properly. Happiest days of one’s life? I don't really think so, but looking back I have to allow myself a chuckle over the incident.

The following day, the lady of the house was still feeling poorly, and the smell of food was again inducing feelings of nausea. This time I told Matthew I didn't want to drive, so we walked the short distance from home to the Vauxhall Inn, an enlarged former coaching inn, on the edge of Tonbridge, on the old London-Hastings road. Today it forms part of the Chef & Brewer chain, although when I first moved to Tonbridge it was a much smaller, and rather basic Whitbread pub. For those contemplating a longer stay, there is a Premier Inn adjacent to the pub, which makes the Vauxhall a good base for those visiting the area.

The entrance to the pub is via the side door, and once inside we were met by a member of staff, who showed us to a table at the rear of the pub. According to Matthew, who frequents the Vauxhall far more often than me, this is now the restaurant area. He said that his friend was annoyed as the management don’t allow customers to eat in the bar anymore, but this didn't particularly bother me at the time. I asked the young man what beers were available, and I was told there was no cask. So as a distress purchase, I opted for the Greene King Ice Breaker, a keg “craft ale”. Matthew went for an Amstel, or something equally insipid, but when my beer arrived, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was not full of gas, not too cold, and instead it was rather flavoursome.

As with the Spotted Dog, pies featured on the Vauxhall’s menu, so I chose the chicken and ham hock variety, served up with mash, vegetables, and gravy.  Once again, Matthew went for a burger, but that’s what he enjoys, and it’s never a bad choice. There was a reasonable number of customers in the pub, but it wasn't exactly heaving. Also, as most of the diners were already there when we arrived, Matthew and I ended up being the last to leave. All in all, it was a good meal and the Ice Breaker too, wasn’t a bad pint either.

By Wednesday Mrs PBT's was feeling a little bit better, although she was still off her food. Matthew and I bought ourselves a "ready meal" each, and when we got home from the supermarket, Eileen disappeared upstairs, leaving us to enjoy our meal without feeling guilty. The same thing happened the following day, but by Friday she was feeling much better and eating again.  

Neither of us are sure what caused Eileen's Cellulitis. It’s a non-transmittable disease, and the consensus is that the bacteria which cause it, breach the body’s defences by entering through a small wound, such as an insect bite, or a cut. 

We’re pretty certain that in Eileen’s case, a cracked heel was the cause, but this is now the second time that she’s had this condition. As I wrote before, it’s far more common than people realise, so do take care whilst gardening, or walking through brambles, and wear long trousers as well, when hiking. Shorts might feel more comfortable, but there are quite a few nasties out there, lurking in the long grass, just waiting for a juicy chunk of unprotected leg flesh to sink their fangs into. Tick-borne ailments, such as Lyme disease, are on the increase, so do take care whilst out there.

Anchor steams away over the horizon

This story is a couple of weeks old now, but that doesn’t stop it from being both topical, poignant and, above all, relevant, especially as it highlights much of what is wrong with today’s beer and brewing scene. The story is of course, the recently announced closure of iconic Anchor Brewing in San Francisco, acquired by Japanese brewing giant, Sapporo, and now thrown on the scrapheap. In doing so, Sapporo are discarding a century and a quarter’s history, as well as the love and devotion of the man who saved the brewery, and its unique style of beer from a previous threat of closure.

That threat occurred back in the mid 1960’s, and the knight in shining armour was Fritz Maytag. The story of how and why Fritz bought Anchor Brewing is well known to those of us who witnessed the development of the phenomenon that is today’s global brewing scene, but for those who weren’t around during those heady days, here’s a brief synopsis of what happened.

Anchor was regarded as the last speciality brewery of any kind in America, but set against a tide of often insipid, heavily promoted nations brands – think Budweiser, Coors, Miller, Schlitz, Pabst, and a handful of other behemoths that dominated US brewing, it was sinking fast, and almost without trace. What happened next passed into legend amongst American beer lovers, so it is doubly upsetting seeing Anchor, once again under threat of vanishing from the North American beer scene.

It was 1965, and Fritz Maytag, whose family owned one of the USA's principal washing machine companies, was a student at Stanford University. The laundry connection comes into play shortly, other wise I wouldn’t have mentioned it, but during his student days, Fritz was a regular at a San Francisco bar and restaurant, where Anchor Steam Beer was stocked. One day, whilst sitting at the bar, and ordering an Anchor Steam, he was told that the brewery was due to close at the end of the week.

Fritz was horrified but was determined not to allow his favourite beer to disappear. At first, he thought his family connections might be able to provide some business experience to help the brewery. Instead, he found himself selling some shares in the family's business in order to become a partner and subsequent owner at Anchor Steam. Most observers thought he was crazy. The brewery was seriously underfunded, was situated underneath the freeway and employed only one person. Baker's yeast was used for the fermentation, and in the absence of a bottling line, only draught beer was produced.

Undeterred, Fritz put everything he could in the brewery, including making sales calls and doing his own deliveries. He also learned as much as he could about the brewing process, making improvements wherever he could. Slowly, but surely Fritz began turning the business around, although it took him 10 years before Anchor was turning in a profit. Soon afterwards he moved the operation into a stylish 1930s building that formerly housed a coffee roasting company. This was located in the fashionable, San Francisco district of Potrero Hill.

Maytag’s philosophy was the company should always remain in touch with what they were about i.e., brewing a first-class beer. In order to achieve this, he designed the new Anchor brewery so that all the officers faced directly onto the copper kettles, and other brewing vessels. As a further reminder of the ethos behind the business, the brewery included a tap room, complete with a traditional, bar decorated with memorabilia, where workers could relax over a few, after work beers. In addition, once a year, Fritz would take a party from the brewery, to the far north of California, in order to see the barley being harvested. Other years, he would take the staff to watch the hops, used in the brewery, being picked.

Maytag’s determination and drive, combined with his insistence of top-quality ingredients, that turned Anchor’s flagship product, into a renowned classic, acknowledged by beer lovers, the world over. Anchor Steam beer was produced from pale and crystal malts and hopped three times throughout the brewing process with Northern Brewer hops. Fermentation took place in a series of uniquely shallow fermentation vessels, each just two foot deep. This produced a beer with an alcohol content of around 5%.

Fermentation was followed by three-week’s warm conditioning, and dry-hopping, before the beer was pasteurised, bottled, or kegged. Anchor Steam beer had the roundness and cleanness of a lager but some of the complexity of an ale. It was bronze in colour, with a pleasing natural carbonation, that was a good match for its clean, and pleasing fruitiness. Although the term “steam beer” had been known for decades, it was the time, effort, and sheer dedication put in by Fritz and his team, that fostered and saved this unique way of brewing.

As well as Steam Beer, Anchor also produced the famous Liberty Ale, along with Old Foghorn Barleywine. Fritz’s rescue of Anchor preceded the micro-brewery movement in North America by 10 or 12 years, and whilst he never intended to spend his life as a brewer, what he achieved during his years at the helm of the company, proved inspirational to a host of other aspiring brewers, both in the United States and further afield.

 As one industry commentator put it, “Fritz not only saved Anchor in 1965, but he also essentially laid the tracks for others to follow. Anchor Steam was recreated in a vacuum because there were no drinkable examples and few who remembered it. Fritz may have "simply" Americanized dead, unpopular, or under-appreciated English styles like Pale Ale, IPA, Porter, Barley-wine, and Holiday beer, but he was very inspirational to the first small craft breweries in Northern California.”

Unfortunately, despite Maytag’s legacy, the iconic role he played at Anchor in bringing diversity, character, and style to the American brewing scene, was slowly buried over by the years, as brewers in that part of the world began trying to out-compete one another by producing increasingly extreme beers. West Coast IPA Double IPA, New England IPA, and a plethora of  other different beer styles left Anchor Beer as a refugee in its own homeland.  Ticking apps, such as Rate Beer and Untappd, spawned a whole generation of drinkers more interested in chasing the latest fad, than appreciating what they already had.

This is a lesson I feel all beer lovers should take note of, and I have seen several American beer commentators making similar points. "Smoothie Pastry Hazy Juicy Dessert IPAs have destroyed classic beers. But we’re all to blame. I don’t understand why Sapporo would buy the brewery and shut it down so quickly. Not only does that make no sense with regard to their investment, but they have made a lot of enemies, too. But as fickle craft beer drinkers we are all to blame. We are more focused on the latest fad and in the process let this classic brewery die a slow death. And that’s a shame of epic proportions."

For my part I am extremely sorry to see Anchor disappear, because like many people who grew up witnessing the micro-brewery revolution as it developed into a global phenomenon, iconic beers, such as Anchor, which played such a pivotal role will always have a special place in my heart. When we had our off licence, Anchor Steam, Porter, and Liberty Ale from San Francisco were regular staples on our shelves. We obtained them through an importer called James Clay & Sons, who are still trading today. That was 17 years ago, and since that time I have rarely seen Anchor beers on sale anywhere in the UK.

Let’s leave the final words of this sorry saga to Chuck Magerl, proprietor of Free State Brewing in Kansas. Fritz Maytag and his crew created the amazing beer world in America today. “When we opened Free State in early spring of 1989, the initial response quickly outstripped our capacity to release new batches. We bought in the only keg of Anchor beer available in Kansas, as a way to offer a like-minded beer for our guests.”

“Others played a role, but Fritz was the key. While the news of Anchor’s closing may yet unfold with another chapter, what is certain is the importance of what this Iowa guy achieved as he guided the historic San Francisco brewery into the new age. Wherever you have a beer this week, whatever flavour you enjoy, please join us in raising an appreciative toast to the world Fritz Maytag enhanced with his devotion at Anchor Brewing”.

The High Rocks, where it really was third time lucky!

You left Matthew and I departing from the rather upmarket Beacon, after failing for the second time that afternoon to obtain a beer. The Beacon was the second of three pubs that we visited on that particular Sunday, but with the first one closed and the second pub focussing almost exclusively on wine, would it be a case of third time lucky? Earlier that afternoon, we had tried to locate the High Rocks, a popular pub, restaurant, and wedding venue to the west of Tunbridge Wells. The complex is named after the adjacent outcrops of sandstone rocks, which are a popular tourist attraction.

We initially failed in that endeavour, as we were actually much further south than I thought we were, but after our experience at the Beacon, I surmised that we were now a lot closer to the High Rocks than we were when driving towards Groombridge. The thought came to me whilst sitting on the terrace, at the Beacon, overlooking the feature known locally as "Happy Valley". We heard the whistle of a steam locomotive, belonging to the Spa Valley Railway, as it passed along the valley and one of the stops on that line is the halt adjacent to the High Rocks complex.

The Beacon is situated a third of the way down Tea Garden Lane, so armed with what we’d seen and heard earlier, I assumed that if we followed the lane to the bottom of the valley, we would be close to the High Rocks, and the prospect of a beer. Not wishing to get lost a second time, I programmed the destination into my phone, and let Google Maps do the rest. My assumption was correct, and after driving with care, along the rather narrow lane, we reached a T junction. The sign indicated that a right turn would lead us to the High Rocks, and a short while later, we reached our destination.

After leaving the car in the substantial car park, adjacent to the High Rocks themselves, we crossed the road and made our way towards the pub and restaurant. Despite it being a Sunday, a wedding was taking place, which seemed strange, as back in my day such ceremonies were never held on a Sunday. Times change though, and we followed the steps down into the terrace garden, to the left of the High Rocks pub, before entering, to see what beers were on offer.

As well as a beer from Tonbridge Brewery, I was surprised to see one from the Nelson Brewery, who are based in the Historic Naval Dockyard at Chatham. Admiral IPA was the beer, and the pump clip showing the silhouette of an Admiral, dressed in early 19th century garb, was obviously supposed to be Admiral Nelson himself. This was the first time in a decade and a half that I had seen Nelson beers on sale, and seeing the pump clip it was quite a poignant moment, because a couple of weeks ago we learned of the sad death of the brewery owner, Piers MacDonald.

Piers had single handedly, turned the Nelson Brewery’s fortune around, after buying the business in 2006, and from what I remember of the brewery, following a visit in 2009 the place was certainly in need of improvement. That was my only visit to the brewery, but Piers was obviously successful in his endeavours, otherwise the company would have ceased trading a long time ago. The beer too was a dramatic improvement, as the sourness, spoiling the taste of Nelson beers, which was probably due to a yeast infection, had gone. The 4.0% Admiral IPA was certainly very drinkable.

After a brief chat with the pleasant girl behind the bar, we took our drinks outside, joining several other groups of drinkers enjoying the afternoon sunshine. From our seats, we could see back across the Happy Valley, and down to the High Rocks Halt, which is where the SVR trains call at, as they travel back and forth along the line between Tunbridge Wells West and Eridge. We witnessed one of the trains pulling away, from the platform, and I managed to snap a quick photo.

The High Rocks will be the venue for the wedding of Eileen’s’ niece Heidi, and her fiancé in just over a year's time, and there is another family connection with the complex too, because the magnificent, oak-beamed barn, which is used to host larger functions, was constructed by Heidi’s father, Brian. It began life as an old farm building, before being acquired by the owner of the High Rocks owner and being taken apart, transported to its new site, and then reassembled. It was quite a project, and Brian was rightly very proud of it. Brian died three years ago, right at the beginning of the pandemic, although his death was not COVID related, so sadly he will not be there to give his youngest daughter away.

The High Rocks themselves, occupy a geological Site of Special Scientific Interest to the west of Tunbridge Wells Spread over several acres the impressive sandstone rocks are interlinked with eleven bridges, to provide a scenic walk in a tranquil woodland setting. Once a Stone Age encampment, these ancient rocks are now a National Monument. Along with the nearby Harrison’s Rocks, these rocky crags form a world-renowned location for rock climbing. The attraction is open daily from 10:00 until dusk except Boxing Day, apparently. Admission is £5 per person, and tickets are available from the High Rocks Pub.

As with several other places of interest locally - Penshurst Place, Hever Castle, Chartwell and Ightham Mote, all spring to mind, I have never visited the High Rocks themselves, but with such a reasonable admission charge there is no real excuse. I have visited the High Rocks pub several times, the last time being back in 2016, when a group of us, walked from Tunbridge Wells West station, to Groombridge, following one of the Link Routes of the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk. I also remember a firm’s Christmas party being held there, many years ago.

So, leaving the joys of the pub aside for a moment, I definitely feel that an hour or two spent exploring the High Rocks National Monument, would be £5 well spent, and I could always slake my thirst in the bar, afterwards. Thinking further outside the box, it would be good to travel either there, or back, by means of the Spa Valley Railway.