What happened next on Pub Friday

You left me departing from the Red Lion at Rusthall, and heading for the nearest bus stop. My intention was to catch the 14:27 service from Rusthall Church, which would safely see me back in Tunbridge Wells ahead of the school rush. Not only did I achieve this, I also managed to jump off the 291 Metrobus outside Tunbridge Wells station, and then hop onto an Arriva bus service that would take me back to Tonbridge. Talk about a seamless connection, and hardly a school kid in sight! Arriving back in Tonbridge, my first task was to find something to eat, and this I achieved by popping into Gregg's. 

There wasn’t a lot left on the filled roll front, which was hardly surprising given the time of day, but a ham and (admittedly) rather tasteless slice of cheese, shoved into a roll, along with a flat white coffee was sufficient to satisfy the inner man. But where to next? The choice was either the Nelson Arms or Fuggles, and it was the latter that won. A convenient bus stop, just five minutes’ walk away from Fuggles, swayed the day, as it seems to have done on a number of recent occasions. I’ve been making good use of my “old gits” bus pass, and whilst I’m all for exercise and walking in the fresh air, it’s an uphill slog back to Bailey Towers, which isn’t what I need at the end of a day out.

There was also the chance of getting another stamp on my cask, “loyalty card” – a stamp for each pint purchased, followed by a free pint once all 10 spaces have been filled. I’ve taken quite a shine to Tonbridge Fuggles, over the past few months, having paid it more visits than any of the other local pubs. I like the easy-going, relaxed atmosphere associated with Fuggles, plus the mixed, and appreciative crowd this beer café attracts. The other reason is that on Thursdays, which is the day when I’ve got some genuine free time available to me, the Nelson doesn’t open until 3pm. Hence Fuggles usually wins over the Nelson.

That’s not to say I haven’t got a soft spot for the latter, as it’s a proper and genuine, traditional back-street local. With regards to beer range, the Nelson stocks up to 10 cask ales, compared to the four normally available at Fuggles, but here’s the rub, many are often from small breweries most of us have never heard of.  This is fine for beer tickers, and also for those who enjoy a bit of variety, but the main thing I’ve noticed is that when a popular beer appears amongst the line-up, it will normally disappear quite rapidly, sometimes almost overnight. Examples include Bonfire Boy and Christmas Ale from Harvey’s, Larkin’s Porter, Adnams Old and virtually anything from Lowestoft-based, Green Jack Brewery.

By contrast, some of the less well-known beers, often hang around for ages, proof if it was needed, of the attraction and pulling power of certain well-known beers, compared to that of their less well-known counterparts. I am able to check which beers are on tap at the Nelson, thanks to the Real Ale Finder App that I installed on my phone. It's not all one-sided though, as the Nelson has a thriving food trade, which not only includes legendary Sunday lunches, but also encompasses themed food deals, such as Curry Night, Pie Evening and several other specialty evenings. Live music, is another feature at the Nelson  although such performances aren't that frequent and are not necessarily everyone's cup of tea.  

Back to the story, after leaving Gregg's, I walked the short distance along to Fuggles, pausing to check the bus times on the way. I already knew, after looking online, that a strong, dark mild from The Kernel Brewery was on sale, and after ordering a pint, and getting my card stamped, the 5.6% Victorian Mild did not disappoint. It was rich, dark and malty with a tremendous depth of flavour that also included raisins and chocolate notes. A couple of days previously, I enjoyed a bottle of Baltic Porter at home. This 6.4% abv beer was also from Kernel, and it is here that I’d like to say something about their bottle labels.

I’m sure many of you are familiar with Kernel’s unassuming plain brown labels, which resemble brown, paper packaging. Underplayed and unpretentious, and presumably deliberately designed, to not detract from the beer itself, but for me, these plain, boring labels do the beer a huge disservice, as they say absolutely nothing about the beer, as well as the brand itself. Crazy really, because whilst I’m rarely disappointed when I crack open a bottle of Kernel beer or enjoyed a perfectly pulled pint of cask from the same brewery. Unfortunately, the brown paper labels tell me nothing about the beer, apart from that it will surprise me!

Before ending this piece, there’s one final attraction that draws me along to Fuggles on a Thursday, and that is the reduced price of the hotdogs on that particular day. £6 Hot Dogs make the perfect lunch offering at Fuggles, was the piece I wrote about this offer, six months ago, and this coming Thursday, after a visit to the barbers, plus a spot of shopping, that is where you will find me.

 

Pub Friday returns

After the doom and gloom of the previous post, you’ll be relieved to learn that I've got something a lot lighter for today. Yesterday was the first Pub Friday, not just for January, but for the coming year, and despite freezing conditions I headed off to explore a location I’d only visited on a handful of occasions. Naturally there was a pub involved as well, and it was one that I’d only driven past previously. The village of Rusthall is a relatively modern settlement of around 5,000 souls, situated on a ridge, to the west of Tunbridge Wells. The village is hidden away because, despite its proximity to the busy A264, which runs towards East Grinstead, it is separated from the road by an area of common land which merges into the much larger Tunbridge Wells Common.

There are a couple of pub in Rusthall, including the Red Lion, which is the one I was interested in. Although first licensed in 1415, the Red Lion is thought to have been trading for some time before this date.  The old coaching road between London and Brighton, allegedly ran past the pub, meaning that the Red Lion has been providing weary travellers with refreshment, for more than six centuries. I'd driven pass the place a number of times, but had never ventured inside, primarily because the pub used to belong to Shepherd Neame. In recent years it was sold off by the brewery and is now, a free house, selling Harvey’s along with one other beer.  

There was now a good reason for me to visit, but could I get there using public transport? I was aware that the No. 291 Metrobus service, that runs between Tunbridge Wells and Crawley, passes close to Rusthall, as it continues along the A264 towards East Grinstead. This meant I could leave the bus, walk the short distance into Rusthall, before continuing to the area known as the Lower Green, where the Red Lion is situated. I checked out the route on Google Street View, which confirmed there is a pavement running all the way from the top of the village to the lower part. So, no danger to life or limb, by walking along a narrow country lane.

My connecting bus from Tonbridge dropped me outside the town’s Royal Victoria Place shopping centre, with sufficient time for a quick visit to the bank, before boarding the 12:52 service towards Crawley. I’d planned to leave the bus at for Rusthall Church, but as the indicator display on the bus wasn't working, I missed the stop. I mentioned this to the driver, although he didn't seem bothered, and as it was less than 10 minutes’ walk to where I should have got off, it didn’t really matter. I walked back along the edge of the Common, before turning off a northerly direction, along the quaintly named Coach Road, into Rusthall itself.

The village centre, with its shops and other amenities is off to the right, but I continued in the same direction, along Lower Green Road, towards the Red Lion. Along the way I passed the former White Hart, a rather undistinguished pub which ceased trading in 2020, and is now a substantial family home.  The road continued downhill, and it wasn’t long before I reached the pub, sited at the bottom of the slope, close to a bend in the road, and opposite a row of attractive looking cottages. The Red Lion, with its slightly topsy-turvy exterior, looks like it has been part of the landscape for a long time.

The large, neatly cut, rectangular blocks at the base, are cut from local sandstone, whilst the tile-hung upper stories enhance the somewhat chaotic appearance that the pub presents to the outside world. I paused opposite, to take a few photos, before walking across to the pub.  It was only then that I noticed the sign on the front door, asking customers to use the side entrance of the building, which was up a series of slightly slippery, brick steps. I entered what was one of the pub’s two rooms, although the main bar area, and serving counter were housed, in a second room leading off to the right. There was a girl serving behind the counter, and a single customer, sat at the bar, chatting to her. The pair both said hello, which was a nice, friendly touch, and as I visually scanned the bar, my eyes fixed on the two hand pumps on the counter. One was for Harvey’s Best, whist the other was for XXXX Old Ale, which is Harvey’s seasonal offering, available from October through to March.

As you can imagine, my face lit up at the sight of the Old Ale, as it is quite hard to come by outside of the Harvey’s’ tied estate. I inquired about the availability of food, whilst my beer was being poured, and was told that the Red Lion specialises in Thai cuisine. Although that sounded tempting, I declined because all I really wanted was a roll, or a sandwich. Fortunately, as compensation of sorts, the pub redeemed itself by stocking Piper’s crisps. After exchanging a few pleasantries with the barmaid, I took my beer and crisps across to a table next to the window, and chose a position where, with my back to the window, I could see what was going on in the rest of the pub. Unless I am physically standing at the bar, this is my default position in any pub.

There wasn’t much happening, until a couple who seemed slightly older than me, came in. They dithered over which drinks to have, although the man sensibly opted for Harvey’s Best.  I didn't notice what his female companion went for, because the next thing that happened was the pair obsessing over where they should sit. The woman muttered it was a shame that the fire hadn’t been lit, at which point the barmaid came over and offered to switch one of the electric heaters on. Seeing as it wasn’t cold in the pub, this seemed a rather superfluous gesture, but the pair obviously weren’t listening, as they plonked themselves down at the table next to mine. Safety in numbers, or some strange kind of herding instinct, but they couldn’t have sat much closer to me, if they tried!

Fortunately, they didn’t have much to say, so I got stuck into my pint of Old Ale, whilst soaking up the atmosphere of this centuries old pub. Like many buildings of a similar age the Red Lion has plenty of old, exposed beams, and bare wooden floors. There was also a fireplace in each bar, and whilst neither was lit, the pub was already warm and welcoming enough. I imagine the place comes into its own during the evenings, as according to the posters on the walls, plus assorted placards, the Red Lion majors strongly on live music, spread across several different genres.

The bus back to Tunbridge Wells runs on an hourly basis, so I needed to time my departure from the Red Lion, accordingly.  There was time for another half, but not for full pint, so I carried out a spot of online searching to decide where to go next.  I was mindful being stuck on a bus between Tunbridge Wells and Tonbridge whilst the schools are chucking out. I've been in that situation before, with a bus crammed full of boisterous school kids, all pushing, shoving whilst attempting to shout above one another. That’s bad enough on its own but given the various respiratory ailments circulating at the moment, I certainly had no wish to contract something nasty.

This aside, I finished my beer, returned my glass to the bar, thanked the barmaid, and headed off back through the village, to the main road, and the bus stop. Next time read how luck was on my side that afternoon, how I avoided the "plague-carrying" school kids, and ended up in a pub that also had a dark beer on tap.

January blues

Well, we’re just over a week into the new year, and I didn't really expect to be scratching around for something to write about. It's not a classic case of writer's block, instead it's much more a general and very weird feeling of melancholy. This feeling of lethargy peaked on Tuesday, and fortunately subsided somewhat, the following day. There’s no logical reason for me to feel down in the dumps, as I've got absolutely nothing to feel bad about. I'm living a good life, I've got a loving and supportive family, and I've got some good friends as well.

A new year should mean a new beginning, but sadly at the moment, it's more an instance of the same old, same old. Coming as it does, after all bright lights, glitter and razzmatazz of the Christmas and New Year celebrations, the opening week of January has been marked by some very bleak and cold winter days. I haven’t been out on any rambles this Twixmas, an activity I would normally do over the Christmas period. I also haven’t seen many local buddies this year, mainly because I haven’t attended much in the way of CAMRA socials.

This year the weather seems a repeat of the last few Christmases, with flooded fields, muddy paths, and cold driving rain. Not exactly conducive to a cross-country hike, especially when combined with the wet slushy snow, we’ve experienced over the past few days. Fortunately, the sun came out this morning, which certainly helped lift my mood, but this left me wondering whether I’ve been suffering from SAD seasonal affective disorder.

Today, one of my work colleagues is flying out to Egypt, for some winter sun. He told me, that the sun will help lift the mood of his partner, who is affected quite badly by a lack of sunshine, during the winter months. Coming originally from South Africa, this perhaps isn’t surprising, but he was confident that once his girlfriend gets out, by the pool, and starts soaking up those golden rays, she will be a different person. SAD isn’t a condition that I’ve given lot of thought to, but it certainly makes a lot of sense.

Shortly before Christmas, I booked a mini cruise for the whole family, which means Matthew will be joining Mrs PBT’s and I on a short return sailing, across the North Sea, to the former Hanseatic, north German port city of Hamburg. It will be Matthew’s first visit to this part of Germany, as well as his first cruise. It will also be a nice family break for all three of us, especially as it will be a pre-cursor to the late spring, "round Britain cruise" that Mrs PBT’s and I will be embarking on, in the last week of May.

Back to the melancholia for a moment or two, global events haven’t exactly helped. The world economy still hasn’t recovered completely from the 2007-2008 financial crisis. Many governments had to either borrow heavily, or to accept a bail from organisations such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF). The global pandemic of 2020-23, didn’t help either, as with populations across the world forced into lock-down and isolation, in order to contain and prevent the spread of COVID 19, governments were forced to introduce furlough schemes, just to keep economies and indeed populations afloat. Sovereign debt has therefore increased still further.

Set against this background are the selfish actions of four individuals, all male, and all people who might be described as mavericks. That might be too kind a description, and disruptors would be a more appropriate term. Even that is far too good for a bloodthirsty, warmongering, despotic dictator like Vladimir Putin, who tops this group of disruptive malcontents. Nigel Farage, with his unfortunately, successful campaign to remove the UK from the European Union, was the person who lit the spark, and emboldened Putin and his campaign to resurrect the corrupt, oppressive, bankrupt, and totally burnt out, Soviet Union.

We then come to Donald Trump, an egotistical, narcissist loudmouth who, if you though was bad enough first time around, well you ain’t seen nothing yet. Voters in the recent US presidential elections, seem to have developed a collective madness, by returning this joker to the White House, and I’m sure we shall all be worse off as a consequence. Trump now has his No. 1 fanboy, Elon Musk opening his mouth and throwing his weight around. The world’s richest man has plenty of money to throw around, with the mistaken belief he can buy politicians, governments and even entire countries. Given the massive size of the egos of these two men, there’s fortunately a strong chance they will have a falling out, sooner, rather than later, but the whole sorry saga of Farage, Putin, Trump and Musk, isn’t really a cause for optimism.

Right, having got all that off my chest, it's high time for a beer, or three!

No bull at the Bullfinch

Back in April 2023, I wrote a piece about a McMullen’s pub that is a short drive from my home. McMullen & Sons Ltd are a long-established family brewer, based in Hertford, the county town of Hertfordshire. Against the odds, the company has survived into the first quarter of the 21^st century and is about to enter the second one. Like many family breweries of a similar age and heritage, the McMullen’s tied estate is quite a tight-knit affair, based mainly in Hertfordshire, whilst touching a few neighbouring counties, such as Berkshire, Buckinghamshire, Cambridgeshire, Essex, and London (mainly north of the Thames).

There are a couple of lone “outposts” further afield in Surrey and Kent, and seeing as my home is in the latter county, it is the McMullen’s pub that I want to write about today, albeit for the second time in 18 months. The Bullfinch  is situated in the village of Riverhead, which today forms part of Sevenoaks. It is an attractive looking pub which is just a short hop from the massive Tesco superstore, just off the London Road. Formerly owned by Grand Metropolitan and listed in a 1993 CAMRA Guide to Kent Pubs as stocking Websters Yorkshire Bitter and Ruddles County, it has been a McMullen’s pub since 2009. Today the Bullfinch advertises itself as a Kent country retreat, offering relaxed country dining, with a roaring log fire in winter, and a spacious beer garden, for the summer months.

I’m not sure why this family-owned brewery from Hertfordshire decided to purchase a pub in Kent, but Mac’s has certainly proved a welcome addition to the local beer scene, despite the disdain shown to the company by a former West Kent CAMRA branch chairman. I shan’t say too much more, as the gentleman in question is no longer with us, and it doesn’t do to speak ill of the dead. We suspect the antipathy expressed by Scottish Iain dated back to when he lived in Hertfordshire, although strangely enough he wasn’t the only person I’ve known who wasn’t keen on the company’s beers.

So, what exactly is Kent’s lone McMullen’s outlet like? Surprisingly spacious, is the answer, and judging by the number of vehicles in the car park, popular too. Following a couple of earlier visits, I called in at the Bullfinch a few days after Christmas 2024, whilst Mrs PBT’s picked up some groceries from the nearby Tesco Superstore. The store was packed with shoppers presumably stocking up with goodies ahead of the following day’s New Year’s Eve celebrations, but I knew a crowded store would work to my advantage, as it would take Eileen much longer to navigate her way around the store.

“You’ll be grabbing yourself a coffee?” she said. “Probably”, was my resply, although the Costa Coffee outlet, that forms an integral part of the store, looked as busy as the shop itself. So, after a quickly nodded goodbye, I headed off to the Bullfinch, situated on the far side of the Tesco’s carpark. As with Tesco’s, the Bullfinch was busy, but not so busy that there were no free tables or seats available. I had already noticed a clip on one of the hand pulls for Boot Warmer Winter Ale, a 5.2% seasonal beer, described as dark, smooth bodied & rich – another one for Untappd! McMullen’s IPA and Country Best Bitter were the cask ales available, along with a beer called Harlequin, from the company’s Rivertown Brewing subsidiary. 

In summary, the Bullfinch is a proper pub, with a cosy lounge bar, a modern and spacious restaurant, with a varied and interesting food offering, plus McMullen’s beer. It looks a good bet for a reasonably priced meal, as well as somewhere for meeting up with friends and family. Definitely worth calling in, if you are in the area, and as an added bonus, the Bullfinch is an entrant in the 2025 Good Beer Guide, thereby finally burying the undeserved prejudice of an ex-CAMRA branch chairman.

Seeing out the XXXX Old with a drop of Eiche

Tuesday 31^st December, the last day of 2024, and yours truly set off in search of something that little bit special on the beer front. Harvey’s was what I was looking for, but not just the common and widely available Sussex Best Bitter, but rather the dark stuff in the form of the brewery’s XXXX Old Ale, but more precisely the company’s strong and quite rare, Christmas Ale. The latter is a darkish and rather strong barley-wine, style beer that that tops the scales at 7.5% abv.

Christmas Ale is available in bottles, and if truth be known I’ve got a couple stashed away at the back of the kitchen. Instead, it was the cask version I was after, and to get hold of some I knew I would need to visit a Harvey’s tied house. Having said that, cask Christmas Ale from Lewes, had been spotted at Tonbridge’s Nelson Arms, over a couple of days before the run-up to Christmas.

By all accounts, it went pretty quickly, which wasn’t surprising, although it does beg the question why didn’t the Nelson order several casks, rather than one? It might be a simple question of supply and demand, but if cask Christmas Ale is in short supply, why haven’t I seen it on sale? Well, I haven’t been in that many Harvey’s pubs recently, so I can’t really say, but what I do know, and this is something that dates back to when Eileen and I had our off-licence, is that the brewery offer Christmas Ale packaged in small 4 ½ gallon casks, known as “pins.”

Small containers have the advantage that the beer therein sells out quickly, but equally should the beer prove popular, it’s unlikely that to be around for long. Our off licence managed to shift a couple of pins, most Christmases, proving that in certain cases, there is a demand for strong beers, but I still feel that Harvey’s are veering on the side of caution, regarding the supply of this excellent, strong, darkish winter beer. Back to the search, and as logic dictated, I’d be more likely to find Christmas Ale on sale at a Harvey’s tied outlet, that in the free trade, I jumped onto a train and headed down to Frant station, just three stops down the line from Tonbridge. Frant station is one of those anomalies, that date back to the original coming of the railways, back in the 19^th Century, because Frant station is a couple of miles away from the village of Frant, and the location where trains actual stop is a small hamlet, known as Bells Yew Green. And it is at Bells Yew Green that the Brecknock Arms, a small and unassuming Harvey’s pub,  overlooking a cross roads in the middle of the settlement,  can be found,

I’ve known the Brecknock over many years, almost as many as I’ve lived in Tonbridge, and like may rural pubs it’s has its ups and downs. From what I’ve heard, it’s a pub on the up, although I must confess that it’s quite a while since the last time I visited. This time around, I left the train and walked the short distance along to the pub. There was a couple standing outside, having a puff when I walked up, although after seeing me, one of them made her way in and popped up behind the bar.

Disappointed at seeing no pump clip for Christmas Ale, but relieved at the presence of a clip for XXXX Old Ale, I ordered a pint of the latter. It took the barmaid a fair bit of pulling to draw the beer through, which left me thinking I might be getting the first pint out of the lines that day. Fortunately, my fears proved groundless, and I was presented with the perfect looking glass of Old which, fortunately tasted every bit as good as it looked.

There were a few people in the pub, two of whom had just finished eating, the other smoker reappeared from outside, and found a spot, at the end of the bar, where he’d probably been standing, before my arrival. He seemed quite chatty, but unfortunately loud with it, as he continued questioning the barmaid as to who had been in, and who hadn’t. Doubly unfortunate, as every other word seemed to be a profanity. That was enough to convince me only to stay for the one pint. I was sat just the other side of the bar, and was thinking to myself, do I want to be listening to this irritating individual for longer than I have to?

South East Trains were operating a Sunday service, which meant trains back to Tonbridge were running on at 60, rather than a 30-minute basis. With the next return train due to depart in 13 minutes, there was just enough time to finish my pint and take a leisurely stroll  along to the station, rather than wait for the next one, and suffer mouth almighty for a further hour. A shame, but some you win and some you lose, and that time and that occasion wasn’t the right one, so onwards and upwards, as I waited for my train to arrive. A significant amount of passengers boarded at Tunbridge Wells, presumably revellers heading up to London to watch the fireworks and see the New Year in. On the other hand, I alighted from the train at Tonbridge and then walked up to the north end of the High Street, where I knew Fuggle’s Beer Café had a beer on tap that I was eager to try.

Aecht Schlenkerla Eiche Dopplebock is a seasonal, smoke beer from Bamberg’s legendary Schlenkerla Brewery. Located in the heart of the city's historic old town, Schlenkerla can trace its history back to the 14^th Century. Today, the brewery is owned by the 6^th generation of the Grasser/Trum family, and their smoky flavoured beers are still brewed from malt that it kilned, in the traditional way, over beech wood. Before the advent of modern kilning methods, it is thought that all Central European beers would have had a smoky flavour. Aecht Schlenkerla Eiche is different from the brewery’s usual smoke beer, because the malt is kilned using oak wood, rather than beech.

According to the brewery, this gives it a smoother and more multi layered smokiness than the intensely aromatic beech wood. When paired with the bitterness of finest Hallertau aroma hops and matured for several months in the deep brewery cellars beneath Bamberg, it creates a special Christmas treat for lovers of smoke beer. With an abv of 8.0%, it’s not a beer to be trifled with, and whilst I have enjoyed the beer in bottled form on several occasions, here in the UK, it is rare to see it on draught. Only once have I experienced that pleasure, and that was 14 years ago, at the Aecht Schlenkerla tavern, in the heart of Bamberg.

Seeing its availability on Fuggle’s website, was too good an opportunity to miss, hence my visit to their Tonbridge café. It was by far the best beer that I’ve drank so far over this Christmas period, and I was left wishing that I’d ordered a pint, rather than a half, but given its high gravity, is definitely is a beer to be treated with respect. Also drinking in Fuggle’s was Keith, from West Kent CAMRA, who’d called in with his small, canine companion. It reminded me of our own dog, now sadly long departed, but the perfect excuse for calling in for a “swift one” at the local pub.

Although tempted to stay for another glass of Eiche Dopplebock, I thought it best to call it a day, and get the bus home. Mrs PBT’s was surprised to see me home so early, but I knew there was a long evening ahead, until the chimes of Big Ben would be heralding in the New Year. I also knew that my lovely wife had cooked a nice fish pie for our supper, and a posh one as well, containing smoked haddock, salmon and prawns. She certainly knows the way to a man’s heart, and with son Matthew staying over at his cousins, for New Year, there was all the more for us.