A ride, by bus, along the edge of the forest

Friday just gone, saw yours truly heading off on another bus trip, and on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year so far, what better way to spend it than visiting four rural pubs along the upper reaches of the Medway Valley, close to the route of the former Three Bridges–Tunbridge Wells rail line.

A spot of detective work revealed that Metro Bus operate an hourly service (No. 291), between Tunbridge Wells and Crawley, via East Grinsted and Forest Row. Knowing there is a rich seam of attractive rural pubs along this route, prompted me into allocating Friday as the day for trying out this route.

The beauty of the 291 route, is its frequency, and with buses running in both directions, at hourly intervals, the scope for visiting three or four pubs over the course of the day, suddenly becomes very real. So, with printed timetable to hand, I set off armed with bus pass, plus a packed lunch, to make the short journey to Tunbridge Wells, and then see where the 291 would take me.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, as I stood waiting at the bus stop, opposite the entrance to the Royal Victoria Place shopping centre. I opted for the 10.48 bus, with the intention of travelling as far as Coleman’s Hatch, a tiny settlement on the edge of Ashdown Forest. I could then take a short, 10-minute walk up to the atmospheric Hatch Inn; an attractive, low-beamed old pub, which started life as three 15^th Century cottages.  

It all depended on bus arrival and departure times, plus that old chestnut and bane of many a pub-ticker’s schedule, pub opening times. The bus I was travelling on would drop me opposite the church in Coleman’s Hatch at 11.18, and with a 10-minute walk to the Hatch Inn, I would arrive just in time for an 11.30 opening time. There was conflicting information on the pub’s actual opening, with What Pub stating 11.30, and the pub’s website also showing 11.30 opening, but midday for food. I phoned the pub, several times, the day before, but no-one answered, so throwing caution to the wind I went for broke, alighted opposite the church, and headed uphill towards the Forest and the Hatch Inn.

The forest roads were surprisingly busy, and with speeding motorists, driving like there was no tomorrow, I needed my wits about me to avoid being hit. After cresting the brow of a hill, and traversing a busy junction, I could see the pub, a short distance away where the road began to level out again. As I approached, I could see lights on inside, and the outside Gin Bar appeared open as well.

All were good signs and so was the front door, which opened as I clicked the latch. Full of confidence, I approached the bar, only to be told by a woman who appeared from behind a curtain, that the pub was closed. A brief conversation about opening times then ensued, which resulted with her saying that if I only wanted a drink, I could have one! Perhaps she took pity on me, but whatever the reason, I accepted her offer.

Thinking ahead, I thought that if I just had a half, I could still make the 12.02 return service, and visit the next pub. Harvey’s Best, Old Ale plus a beer from Bedlam Brewery, were the choices, and despite my reticence that the beer might not have been pulled through yet, from the previous evening, I opted for a half of Old.

I was glad it was just a half, as the beer was a little “tired,” but I was also glad of the opportunity of nosing around the pub and taking a few photos. My only previous visit to the Hatch, had been on a vintage bus trip, organised by Maidstone CAMRA, back in 2015, and with a bus load of thirsty CAMRA members, in what is quite a small pub, it was difficult to take any meaningful photos.

So, with just myself and the barmaid present, I was able to snap away at will and appreciate all that one might expect from such an ancient building. This included the low sloping ceilings, supported by ancient beams, and a bar which occupies a central location. This opens up either side, into what are two separate rooms, with a log fire at one end providing a warming welcome.

The barmaid was on the phone as I was about to depart, but I shouted my thanks as I made for the door. It was downhill most of the way back to Holy Trinity church, and the bus stop for services back to Tunbridge Wells. I arrived in plenty of time, and although the bus was several minutes late, it was pleasant standing there in the warm, early spring sunshine.

My next port of call was only a few stops away, and it was a pub I hadn’t been to before, despite having driven past it quite few times. The Gallipot Inn, on the edge of Upper Hartfield, is an attractive, 16^th Century pub, close to the edge of the road.  It is a long, low building with a lower portion constructed from blocks of local sandstone, and a weatherboard upper section.

The internal layout seemed quite similar to that of the Hatch Inn, with a beer range almost to match. This time it was Cellar Head Session Pale complementing the Sussex Best although I stuck with the Harvey’s. There were a few diners inside, some with their canine companions tucked away under the tables but given the fine weather I took my pint out and sat at one of the tables enjoying my pint in the warm sunshine.

With very few cars passing by, it seemed a world away from the troubles of the outside world. I wasn’t alone as there was a couple and their dog, plus the odd jobbing builder – some building work was taking place at the rear of the pub. I later found out, after talking to a work colleague, that there is a pleasant garden behind the Gallipot, with views back across the valley, over to the High Weald.

An hour later, I was at the bus stop, directly in front of the pub, waiting for the next bus heading east. I jumped on and sat down for just a few stops until we reached the tiny village of Withyham, home to the legendary Dorset Arms. I say legendary because this lovely old pub has a soft spot in the hearts of those who appreciate unspoilt country pubs.

The Dorset started life as a 16^th Century farmhouse before coming an alehouse in the  18^th Century. For decades the pub has forms part of the Buckhurst Estate, owned by Earl De La Warr, whose arms are depicted on the pub sign. It is a listed building, complete with log fie in winter, and a wealth of old beams. It retains a public bar, which looks through, in places, to a much larger restaurant area.

I have always known the Dorset as a Harvey’s pub, but it appears that the brewery only leased it from the estate, and it has now reverted back to its original owners. My last visit to the pub involved an overnight stay in the village, whilst walking the Weald Way, long-distance footpath. My companion Eric and I had stayed at a B&B, housed in the Old Post Office, opposite the pub, and had enjoyed an excellent meal that evening, along with several pints of Harvey’s Best.

I’m not sure whether the Old Post Office still functions as a B&B, but today the Dorset offers overnight accommodation. I remember the father of a friend of ours telling us that him and his wife spent their honeymoon at the pub, which doesn’t surprise me as Tony was a connoisseur of unspoiled, traditional pubs, long before appreciation of old alehouses became more mainstream.

I certainly enjoyed my long overdue, return visit, sitting at the bar enjoying the finest pint of Sussex Best I’d had in a long time. There was a good mix of customers in the public bar, including, but not confined to, drinkers like me.  The bar staff were friendly, with the barmaid on first name terms with the group of carpenters who were celebrating the birthday of one of their team. On the other side of the partition, the restaurant looked busy, and I imagine it must have been reservations only.

I drank up and walked over to the bus stop, for the short ride to Groombridge, a village that is part in Kent and part in Sussex. The oldest part is in Kent, and at the end of a row of rustic looking, brick-built cottages, is the Crown Inn, overlooking the village green. The pub dates from the 16^th Century, and with its brick floors, old beams, and several interconnecting rooms, it is not hard to imagine it during those times.

Groombridge Place, a 17^th Century moated, manor house is at the bottom of the hill, and the extensive gardens and “enchanted forest” are a popular visitor attraction during the summer months. Groombridge was also once an important railway junction, but all that remains today are the heritage trains that operate on the Spa Valley Railway, between Tunbridge Wells West and Eridge.

Returning to the pub, Harvey’s Best and Larkin’s Traditional, were the cask ales on sale. I took my pint of Trad outside, and sat at one of the wooden bench tables, enjoying the view as well as the excellent Larkin’s beer. I also finished off the pre-prepared cheese rolls I had brought with me, by way of lunch. BRAPA would have been proud of me, I chuckled to myself, although he would have tried scoffing them inside the pub!

There was only time for one pint, as the Crown closes between 3 and 5.30 pm. I also had a bus to catch back to Tunbridge Wells. I was lucky with connections, because as the 291 pulled up in Tunbridge Wells, opposite the War Memorial, the No. 7 to Tonbridge was just about to leave. I jumped off the former and hopped onto the latter. It wasn’t quite so lucky when the bus picked up a full complement of pushing, shoving and plague-infected school kids, from outside the local grammar school.

I was glad of the FFP2 face mask I was wearing, but if truth be known I didn’t let the minor inconvenience of a bus load of excited kids, released for the weekend, detract from what had been one of the most enjoyable and productive bus trips, I’ve experienced to date.

 

Bath time - complete and unabridged version

I finally made it to Bath last Friday, having been thwarted three weeks previously by named storm Eunice. It was almost four decades since I was last in the city, which is obviously far too long, and despite the heavy rain that greeted my arrival, it was good to be back and renew my acquaintance with this lovely old spa town.

I journeyed by rail, from Tonbridge, via Charing Cross and Paddington. Arriving at the latter and admiring Brunel’s magnificent glass-roofed train-shed, was a reminder that the station was another place I hadn’t visited for many years either. My Advanced Ticket stipulated travel on the 10.32, but as I stood eyeing up the departure board, flat white in hand, it became evident that this service would not be leaving on time. 

Fortunately, the delay which was due to “operational difficulties,” was only 10 minutes, and as soon as the platform was announced, I joined the scrum rushing to secure a seat on the train. I had a seat reservation, although it was unclear from both the ticket, or the ridiculous pictogram, just below the luggage rack, whether seat 76 was a window or an aisle one. I decided it was the former and settled down to enjoy the journey 

Reading was soon reached, as was Swindon, and as the train headed towards the next stop (Chippenham), I noticed that the rain, that had been forecast, had indeed arrived. It had been sunny when I’d left home, a couple of hours earlier, but rain it was and as we headed further west, I realised it was probably in for the day. 

The train arrived at Bath, only five minutes behind schedule, and after
donning my hat, and zipping up me coat, I headed off, down into the city, heading for my first port of call. I was due to meet up with a select few members of the Beer & Pub Forum, and the pub I was heading for was actually the second one on the itinerary. The early birds of the group  started off at the Crystal Palace, one of several Fuller’s pubs in the city, but the timings were such that I would join the others at the Coeur de Lion.

This, little gem, is tucked-away down a narrow side street, close to the abbey, and is the only pub in Bath that I remember from previous visits to the city. The Coeur was a Devenish house back then – a lone outpost for this regional brewery, based in Weymouth. Unfortunately, the company got into financial difficulties in the mid 1980’s and after a succession of owners, closed 10 years later. Today, the pub is owned by Abbey Ales, a local brewery based in Bath, and a local success story, as today the company owns four pubs in the city, including a couple of real classics.

I found the Coeur without too much trouble, but after stepping inside from the rain, and looking around, I could see no sign of the people I was supposed to be meeting up with.  I was conscious of the fact that I didn’t have anyone’s phone number – slightly surprising as I thought I had Martin’s. I did have the Tapatalk app on my phone, as this is an application that seems to be favoured by the Beer & Pub’s Forum. I’d tried connecting with the app whilst on the train but needed a password to access my account. The password, of course, was in a book, back home, which just goes to prove that such things really are the bane of modern life.

 

Returning to the Coeur de Lion, I noticed a sign in the corner that pointed to an upstairs room, so after climbing the steep and rather narrow stairs, I was relieved to discover Martin, Frome Jon and Oxford Nick sat around a small corner table, tucked away in the corner. There was no bar upstairs, so Martin very kindly nipped back down to get me a swift half of Bath Ales Best Bitter. Shortly after, he had to repeat the exercise for Mick aka “Citra,” who arrived about 5 minutes later. It was a shame in some respects that the Coeur had been so crowded, as I was unable to take any interior photos, and for my part, it would have been good to stay for another; this visit to Bath being the first time, I’d tried Abbey Ales. The food also looked good, although straight after arriving in the city, was a little early to be tucking into a full-blown meal – more about that later!

However, with all five members of the party now assembled, it was time to move on, and the pub we were heading to was an absolute corker. First licensed in 1760, the Star Inn retains many of its original features, including 18^th Century bar fittings and wooden benches. There are four small rooms, with bench seating around the walls, wood panelling and open fires. The smallest room has a single bench, usually occupied by the pub's older customers

The Star remains a classic example of a multi-roomed English public house, that is virtually untouched by time. The pub is featured on CAMRA’s National Inventory of historic pub interiors, and is famous for its Draught Bass, served direct from the cask, and poured from a jug. As we walked in and made our way to the room at the far left, the pub certainly didn’t disappoint. 

Given the Star’s reputation for Bass, it seemed rude not to give it a try, and ordering by the jug, seemed the way to go. The option was either three- or four-pint servings, so three of us opted for a three pinta. I remain unconvinced that drawing the beer off into a jug, and then poring it into the customer’s glass, makes any difference at all, but as Martin remarked, it is a nice piece of theatre.  In over 40 years of drinking, I can only think of one other pub that used this practice, and that was the Ram's Head (Owd Tupps) at Denshaw; a 450-year-old inn, high on the moors above Oldham and Rochdale.

Back in the 1970's, the pub stocked Younger's XXPS Scotch Bitter, direct from casks kept behind the bar. In order to achieve the thick creamy head beloved by northern drinkers, the bar staff would draw some off some beer first into a large enamel jug, and then pour it from a height of around 10"-12" into the customer's glass. XXPS has long since been discontinued, and looking at the Ram’s Head website, the pub is now a rather upmarket “gastro-pub.” The cask beers today are now served by traditional hand-pump, rather than the time-honoured way that is still retained by the Star.

Two three-pint jugs of Bass, between five people, worked out at just over two pints each. Other beers were available, including Bell Ringer & White Friar from Abbey Ales, Dark Star Hophead, and Wye Valley Butty Bach. Most of us stuck with the Bass, although Mick gave the Butty Bach a try. I was getting peckish by this time, and in need of something to soak up the beers, I grabbed a cheese and onion bap, just to keep me going, little thinking that would be the only solid food (apart from a packet of Pipers Crisps) to pass my lips.

It was time to move on, but I was really glad we called in at the Star, to enjoy and appreciate a bit of our fast-vanishing pub heritage, as well as the chance of crossing another National Inventory pub off the list. It wasn’t far to the next pub, and as an added bonus, the rain had eased off as well. The Bell which, although different to the Star, still proved to be a real cracker. I thought I had carried out my research for the Bath trip quite thoroughly, but it wasn’t until just now, when I logged on to the pubs’ website, that I realised this was the famous music pub, purchased in 2013 by around 500 of its customers, fans and workers, and run as a cooperative. 

It is also the pub with the black & white photo of some of these owners, leaning out the windows, along with a group of musicians posing with their instruments, on top of the flat roof extension, to the left of the main building. Free live music sessions are held at the Bell, three or four times a week, and because of this, the pub gets endorsements from no lesser luminaries than Robert Plant and Peter Gabriel.I really must pay better attention next time, as even more of a lapse in research was the presence of a pizzeria in the garden, offering freshly made pizza. NOBODY mentioned this, even though I am sure the subject of food had been raised. Paul was hungry, and a nice helping of freshly made, sourdough pizza, at that stage of proceedings, would have been gratefully appreciated!

The beer offering WAS much more obvious, and with the Bell offering seven different cask ales, no-one was likely to be disappointed. I particularly enjoyed a fine pint of Nine Lives Porter from Parkway Brewing Co. The internal layout of the Bell consists of a lengthy, single bar at the front, with a raised area, which acts as the stage, at one end. There is also a small Back Bar, used mainly for practice and open-mike, music sessions.

We stayed in the Bell until just after 4pm, as that was the time the next
pub opened. Just a short walk away, the Brewed Boy is a crafty paradise, serving up to 10 craft beers on Key keg, plus a large assortment of bottled and canned beers. The place looked like it might have been a shop in a previous life, and with both space and seating at a premium, we were lucky to get a seat and a table.

It was pleasant and bright inside and as Frome Jon knew the owner/proprietor, that helped things along. I had a rather nice Milk Chocolate Stout, from Imaginary Friends – who thinks up the names for these breweries? A few of us then helped Martin finish a can of Blueberry Weisse from Pastore – a mixed-fermentation sour and wild brewery based in his former home village of Waterbeach. This quite challenging beer is a Berliner Weiss style of beer, and if you have ever tasted one of those you will know how sour they are!

We headed back into the city centre after, I was looking for a pub that served food, although some of the others were considering the Old Green Tree. Again, I hadn’t done my homework properly, as if I had, I’d have know the latter was another CAMRA National Inventory pub. I missed out there, and so did my companions, so apologies to all for allowing my stomach to dictate the choice of pub.

We ended up at the Raven, a pub recommended by Mrs PBT’s niece. It was a nice place, but rather crowded. It was Friday evening though, and given the large student population of Bath, not entirely surprising. We managed to bag a table, but with a 20-minute wait for food I began to doubt I’d have time to eat a meal, and then find my way back to station. It wasn’t quite the ending I had in mind, but there is a strange relationship between beer and time whereby the later seems to speed up, as consumption of the former increases.

Although I had a rough idea of the direction to head in, I wasn’t 100% sure of the way. I was booked on a train with a specific departure time, so I didn’t want to miss it, so reluctantly I said a hurried farewell to my companions and headed off in the general direction of the station. It was dark outside, which made it difficult to read the map, and I had to stop and ask a few people, along the way. I dived into a Sainsbury’s Local and picked up their £3.50 Meal Deal, which I just had time to eat on the platform, before the London train pulled in.

I bumped into Martin briefly, at the station. He was heading in the opposite direction, back to his overnight accommodation in Bristol, no doubt in readiness for some more GBG ticking the following day. It has been good to catch up with him again, and also to meet the “southern contingent” of the Beer & Pubs Forum. It had been good too, renewing my acquaintance with Bath after a gap of nearly 40 years. I won’t leave it so long next time!

 

That was the year that was - 2015

2015 was one hell of a year, packed with some amazing travel and beer-related experiences; in fact, I would say that for a number of reasons, it was the best year ever. It was a year in which I crammed in more trips abroad than any years previously, or indeed since. Looking back, I’m not quite sure how I manged it, but everything just fell into place, in a way that has since proved hard to mimic, so what exactly happened and where did I go?

Where to start though? And where better than Prague, capital of the Czech Republic, and a city I have visited half a dozen times. Two of those visits took place in 2015, and both were as preludes to spending time in other locations within the country. 

The first visit took place that May and was only a couple of days in length. Prague was the rendezvous for the tour group from Maidstone CAMRA I was joining, before heading off to the city of Jihlava, which was to be our base for the next four days. Situated in almost the exact geographical centre of the Czech Republic, Jihlava, which is well away from the tourist hot spots of Prague and Pilsen, proved to be the ideal place for exploring this lesser-known part of the country.

Unfortunately, the hot and dry weather I enjoyed in Prague, was replaced by wet, windy, and decidedly cool conditions by the time we arrived in Jihlava, but on the basis that there is no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing, I had a real good time in both locations. Highlights of Prague were the morning I spent exploring the area around Prague Castle and St Vitus’s Cathedral, an al fresco lunch at Klášterni pinovar Matŭska, before heading back down towards the Charles Bridge and the old town area of Staré Mésto. Although serious tourist territory, I managed a visit, to U Tři Růži; which at the time was one of Prague’s newest brew-pubs. I also made the obligatory visit to  U Fleků, Prague’s original brewpub, which claims to be the oldest brewpub in the world.

 Our stay in Jihlava, included a tour of the Bernard Brewery in Humpolec, a cultural day, visiting the well-preserved towns of Slavonice and Telč, plus a visit to the Chotebor Pivovar microbrewery,  and the Rebel brewpub in Havlickuv Brod. Special mention should be made of the bus ride back from Telč to Jihlava, which took us through some of the most pleasing countryside I have ever seen. I can still picture the rolling hills, dark forests and stretches of verdant green pasture, that make up the region, and the numerous fishponds which dot the landscape. The winding country roads we travelled along, lined by blossom-laden apple trees, completed the picture, and not for the first time, that year, I said to myself, “Life doesn’t get much better than this!”

Sticking with Prague, my second visit of 2015 to the Czech capital, took place in the autumn of that year, in October to be precise. As with the first visit, I used Prague as a staging post, and a prelude to a visit elsewhere in the country. Given the relatively small size of Czechia, flying into Václav Havel airport in Prague makes perfect sense and, as on the previous occasion, it allowed me to spend some time in this most beautiful of central European cities. This time around, I also had son Matthew for company.

Basically, our trip was a tale of two contrasting halves; spending four nights in the big city atmosphere of Prague, followed by four nights in the delightful preserved medieval town of Český Krumlov. The latter wasn’t without its share of tourists; in fact the town is now the second most popular destination for foreign visitors to the Czech Republic. Český Krumlov is people sized though, and easily seen in a day, but for me it was the perfect place to relax and enjoy a few beers - after taking in some of the impressive sights of this beautiful medieval town. It was also a town that had been on my bucket list, for more years than I care to remember.

Our time in Prague was spent visiting a variety of different brewpubs, most of which were new to us. We stayed at the same hotel that I had used back in May, although this time around, the room overlooked the street at the side, rather than the rail tracks at the rear. We also took a trip out, by train, to the Škoda car works in the town of  Mladá Boleslav, where we had a conducted tour of the factory. The weather was also disappointing, with rain at times, although by the time we reached Český Krumlov, it was characterised by sunny days, but increasingly cold nights. Autumn was definitely a week or two ahead of the UK, with some spectacular seasonal colours from the trees.

Český Krumlov certainly didn’t disappoint, and still lived up to the description given by beer enthusiast, and CAMRA founding member, Graham Lees, in his Guide to Prague & the Czech Republic. Writing in 1996, Lees described this small, southern Bohemian town as a "Time-warped, medieval beauty, built in a tight loop of the Vltava river". He went on to say that "It's as though some witch had cast a Sleeping Beauty-like spell over the entire edifice. But the spell is now wearing off, and the more tourists who "discover" it, the more it will change".

Many tourists had of course, "discovered" it during the 20 years since those words were written and the visit, in 2015, by Matthew and me. I wrote at the time that Cesky Krumlov is still well worth seeing. It's massive castle, overlooking the river, is the second largest in the country, after Prague, and the old town is still a maze of twisting, narrow streets, virtually unchanged since medieval times. There were hordes of mainly Chinese tourists, complete with their selfie-sticks, but they tended to gravitate around the castle and the old town square, and were thus easily avoided.  

At the end of August, I found myself in Brussels for the European Beer Bloggers Conference. Now despite its reputation for fine beer and equally fine chocolate, Brussels has never been my favourite city, but over the course of that visit, which happened to be my fourth, I did start to warm to the place more. I found that the city centre is surprisingly compact, and as well as visiting some new bars, along with a few old favourites, I discovered a lot more about Belgian beer and the nation’s brewing culture.

Some of that was the result of the conference itself, but I learned much more after the event, when I joined the post conference trip around West Flanders. This was a relaxed, two-day tour around the province, and included several memorable highlights. One occurred at the In de Vrede café, attached to the Monastery of St Sixtus, just outside Westvleteren. This abbey is the home of the most secretive monastic order, who are also the brewers of Westvleteren 12°, described by Rate Beer, as the best beer in the world.

Sitting outside, with my fellow conference delegates, most of whom were affable and typically outgoing Americans, soaking up the late August sunshine and Westvleteren beer in equal measures, I had another of those “Life doesn’t get much better than this,” moments. The superlatives didn’t finish there, as that evening, we enjoyed a private tour around the Rodenbach brewery, home to the world-renowned Flemish Sour Red Ales. We ended the day with an overnight stopover in Bruges, staying at a luxurious four-star hotel, just off the city centre.

I was too tired, and rather too refreshed to hit the town that night, but the following day, we were treated to a guided walking tour of Bruges, which was both interesting and a real eye opener. As if that wasn’t enough, we enjoyed an excellent lunch at the city’s De Halve Maan brewery. On way, passed through the Beguinage – a sanctuary, which offered a home to single or widowed women who wanted to live in a pious way but outside the walls of a convent or monastery. Of particular interest to fans of prog-rockers Yes, the Beguinage was the location where the promotional film for the track, Everydays was shot. Written by Stephen Stills and featured on "Time and a Word," the group’s second album, the tranquillity and calm and tranquillity of the surroundings, certainly does both the song, and the film itself, justice. Check it out below, to get the feel of the place, and you will see what I mean.

The year finished with a short family trip to Salzburg, Austria – a visit that allowed us to experience the magic of the city’s Christmas Market, whilst allowing a couple of visits to the Bräustübl at Augustinerbräu Kloster Mülln. Not only is this tavern the largest in Austria, it is also one of the finest and most traditional beer halls anywhere in the world! We arrived shortly after the 3pm opening time, and as we descended the steps from the entrance to the corridor where the food kiosks are situated, everything came flooding back, including the most important part - the ritual necessary to obtain a beer.

Just round the corner from the end of the corridor, there is a serving area, where you help yourself to a stoneware mug (litre or half litre). You then rinse it at the ornate marble fountain before queuing up and paying the person sitting behind a glass screen. You are then given a ticket, which you hand to the man dispensing the beer, in exchange for him filling your mug with beer, from one of the large wooden casks. You then wander off and find a seat in which ever of the three large, cavernous beer halls that takes your fancy, and get stuck into the beer.

The beer, which is a full-bodied lager, known as Märzen with an ABV of 4.6%, is brewed all year round, whilst from November through to Christmas a stronger Weinachtsbock (Christmas Bock) at 6.5% ABV is produced. This beer was unavailable during my two previous visits, but it was on this occasion, so I just had to try a mug full. It was everything I expected and more, being rich, malty, and strong enough to taste the alcohol. During the hour or so we were there, the hall had really begun to fill up; such is the popularity of the Augustinerbräu Bräustübl.

The absolute highlight of 2015, started with a visit to the Franconian Beer Festival - held in the incomparable setting of the castle moat of Nuremberg’s massive and imposing Imperial Castle. Fränkisches Bierfest, as it is known locally, showcases beers from around 40 of Franconia’s finest breweries, and in this respect is more like an English beer festival, than events such as Munich’s world-famous Oktoberfest, and the lesser known Cannstatter Volksfest which takes place in Stuttgart.  

I was fortunate to have local beer enthusiast, Erlangernick, as my guide, and in his company, I sampled beers from some of the 38 breweries exhibiting at the festival. These included various Helles, Vollbiers, Landbiers, Kellerbiers, plus the odd Dunkles and Pils. All were good; with some served direct from wooden casks. There was a great party atmosphere, and whilst most festival goers were within the 20–30-year age bracket, there was still a good sprinkling of people from other age groups. What was particularly encouraging was the number of female visitors, to the festival.

The following day, on one of the hottest days of the year, I met up with Nick at Roppelt’s Keller, to the north-west of Forchheim. He had borrowed his wife’s car, and his proposal was to drive us both around a few Kellers in the area. There were a couple he wanted to check out, which were well off the beaten track, and he thought I would like to visit them as well. Being chauffeured around some of the region’s best Bier Kellers, by someone with good local knowledge of them was a chance too good to miss, so after finishing my beer, we set off in his car to do just that!

Driving through the unspoilt countryside of the Steigerwald, in an open-top car, in search of good local beer, and with some vintage Yes playing on the car stereo, made me think, once again that  “Life doesn’t get much better than this.” Our first port of call was the tiny village of Aisch, where we sat out in the small shady beer garden opposite the Rittmayer Brauerei & Gasthaus. It was here that I tried Spargel (white Asparagus), for the first time.

We then visited two Kellers, both perched up on hills overlooking some really attractive rolling countryside. Herrmann Kellerbier from Ampferbach, and Müller Kellerbier from Reundorf, were the beery delights at these two stops; the latter beer being enjoyed in the grounds of the substantial Schmausenkeller, high on a hill.  It was a wonderful day out and my grateful thanks are due to Nick for acting as my guide and chauffeur.

It is no exaggeration to say that this brief snapshot, of some of Franconia’s best beer and drinking establishments, was not only the highpoint of 2015, but also remains as one of my all-time best beer experiences. It was the perfect combination of good company, fine weather, splendid scenery, and some wonderfully rustic places in which to enjoy some truly excellent beer. This then, is the perfect spot to finish my round-up of 2015’s “Year in Beer.”