Thirsty Work

Banging on about it makes me sound like a grumpy old man, but the truth is that ever since I was a small child, I've generally disliked crowds.

As I've mentioned in the past, give me somewhere half-empty with plenty of space to move about any time, over heaving masses of sweaty bodies any day.

Honestly, I could be watching Cov City winning the Champions League Final amongst a crowd of 95,000, and still not really get this idea of 'atmosphere' that others seem to relish. Unlikely as this prospect is, I reckon I'd still be getting all annoyed at the restrictions on my personal space when I should be celebrating...

Anyway, I'll stop ranting.

Pasty Times

The humble, put-upon pasty has been in the news rather a lot lately and it's almost putting me off eating the damn things. It's second only to fucking Leveson now, and has been rambling on for weeks.

Whereas once, picking up a hot 'tradtional' or 'steak and stilton' at a railway station was just something you did because you were hungry, cold and a long way from home, these days it's more or less a political act.

Mind, in my view, it's definitely the petty, sniping media who are pretty much entirely to blame for this situation rather than those who make the pasties (or indeed those who pass the laws affecting those who make the pasties).

There's no such thing as the 'pasty tax'. Not really.

Anybody smart enough not be duped by media-created memes knows that it's simply a convenient (and salacious) narrative to rouse the rabble.

Unfortunately, but predictably, a significant proportion of people have played their part bang on cue, and seem to genuinely believe that there was actually a special new tax introduced on pasties (probably the same people who believe there is a 'granny tax' specifically introduced to take money from little old ladies purses). Sigh.

Unchained eateries - a treble-mega review

One of my faithful readers - as opposed to an unfaithful one, presumably - recently noted that I’ve been reviewing a fair few chain restaurants lately.

While she didn’t quite stray into ‘criticise the critic’ territory, I detected a hint of ‘you can do better and I’m ever-so-slightly disappointed’ in her general tone, as if she thought somebody as interesting and eccentric as I should be looking beyond the boring, everyday chains.

In my defence, there is a method to the blandness, if you will: I aim for most of my reviews to be relevant to a pretty wide audience, and a broader range of readers will be able to experience Café Rouge or Haché by simply locating their nearest branch, rather than having to trek somewhere a long way away.

But I do take the point that independent restaurants are generally – though not always – superior, and so today I give you three of my favourite independent, one-of-a-kind restaurants. My 'chain reaction', as it were.

(OK, I'll stop making the sort of bad pun that has to be followed by 'if you will' or 'as it were' now. I can't believe I did it in consecutive paragraphs. What the fuck was I thinking?)

You might have to travel further to check them out, but these are places worth going out of your way for. Even if that means going to Tooting.

I’m talking Curry. I’m talking Pizza. And I’m talking Kebabs. Three of the major food groups.

And if you happen to live locally to one of these undiscovered gems, you're in for a big fat bastard of a treat. I guarantee it.

The B-V popularity contest

If I gave you three guesses as to what the most read post has been, since I started this little bloglet 18 months or so ago, you'd almost certainly fail.

Perhaps one of my insightful reviews of a top eatery such as Gaucho, or maybe a bold, experimental recipe like the Full English Breakfast Linguine?

Nope. Not even close.

So, what can people actually be arsed to read around here? How about the recent Cattle of Waterloo? Surely that deserves immeasurable popularity just for having such a brilliant title?

Apparently not. I hope you like surprises.

The winners

In fact, the most popular post according to Google Analytics (who, like the man in the pub, are never wrong about these things) consisted of a bit of faux-reactionary right-wing ranting and an indifferent review of a tiny, obscure hummus and falafel stand in Canary Wharf which might not even be there any more.

Organic Chickpeas. What. The. Fuck?

They'll be as surprised as I am!

Are you all fucking sandal-wearing hippies?

What's more, it's over 50% ahead of it's nearest rival. Astonishing.

While I had no idea that organic chickpeas were the single most important thing in the world to my readers, the second place is rather less surprising though.

My open letter to James Watt built on a piece I'd written in the London Drinker magazine, and given that Brewdog have been in the news an awful lot over the last couple of years, it's not that unlikely to imagine people stumbling upon my views thereon.

Indeed, I've blogged on subsequent occasions about them as my relationship with the company deteriorated before your very eyes, and that unrequited letter, written over a year ago, now seems eerily prophetic.

And bad news for drinkers is clearly something we're all interested in, as the third most-read article was last week's report on the tragic closure of St Jude's, proving that news does indeed travel fast in the Blogosphere. It's still gaining on the top two, not that this will bring any comfort to Frank or any of his ex-customers.

But a thrashing for Gaucho and the breakfast linguine, nonetheless, both of which are nowhere near the top three.

The losers

So, which posts have been read the least? What have you bastards been callously eschewing in favour of watching paint dry, or the One Show?

Well, there's this year's Shrove Tuesday blog about pancakes. Obviously nobody gives a fuck about them these days.

And my review of the food at last year's Lambeth Country Show which, ironically, featured chickpea dishes that were a lot tastier than the falafel and hummus from that wretchedly noteworthy place. Surely that deserved better?

But the least-read post of all was what I hope is actually a rather intelligent and considered opinion piece questioning why the government lowered duty on beers below 2.8% ABV when there were hardly any such beers available.

Obviously if the Organic Chickpeas stall did a low-alcohol Hummus Ale, people would be clamouring for a piece of that blog action like flies unto a turd...

None of this really means very much, of course, and all the posts that I've mentioned today will now benefit from the trackback links and will disproportionately gain, so we'll see Organic Chickpeas extend its lead and the bottom-feeders edge up slightly to be replaced by some other post that no cunt can be bothered to read.

Meanwhile, I'll send the falafel hippies a telegram of congratulation. On ethically-sourced recycled paper, obviously. Smug wankers.

Maple Shortbread Sandwich - the feelgood dessert

Following a busy Saturday of drinking and bidding a fond farewell to the St Jude's Brewery Tavern in Ipswich I felt I was due a nice restful Sunday.

While I was glad I made it there for the final night (the last of the beer, Blackfriars Yarmouth Bitter ran out at about 10 PM), my heart was heavy with sadness on the long train journey back to South London.


Big Frank's embittered goodbye speech at St Jude's

I'm certainly less enthused than I was about the prospect of starting my own brewery and pub than I was a few days ago. Seems like no matter how good your pub is, the bank can, as Frank eloquently puts it, 'fuck you over without warning' at any time.

Sigh.

And so, to the kitchen for some theraputic baking, which isn't something we do all that often, but it's a rewarding activity when we do. An indulgent dessert might cheer us up, mightn't it?

This is a simple but very tasty recipe. The secret is to use good quality butter (Beurre d'Isigny or something from the Channel Islands is usually ideal) and a proper maple syrup rather than a 'maple-flavoured' version made from carob or high-fructose corn syrup or some other crap.

Adieu, St Jude

I'm aware that I've blogged rather a lot about pubs and beer lately, and deviated a bit from my original intention to mix things up by alternately interspersing recipes and restaurant reviews'n'shit here and there, so as to ensure a constant stream of variety.

Well - sadly for those strange folks who aren't at all interested in beer - this is going to be yet another beery one because I heard some rather sad news last night.

The patron saint of lost caus

The St Jude's Brewery Tavern in Ipswich is closing. This Sunday.

And it's one of the best pubs you'll ever find.

It was the undoubted highlight of my last visit to Ipswich just over a year ago - shortly after the place opened - and I feel a bit like I've just lost a relative who I didn't visit as often as I perhaps should've.

A little bit of background: I lived on the west side of Ipswich for many years and moved away in 2009, before the tavern opened. But I was there when St Jude's started brewing, in tiny, quirky, backstreet premises and I got to know the owner/brewer/visionary Frank fairly well. And his appalling jokes. And his excellent beer.

Ironically I first met him in another truly great former pub on the west side of Ipswich - the Rose and Crown - to which he supplied beers like John Orford's Strong Chocolate Malt and St. Mary's Stout. He invited me round to see his brewery the following day and plied me with free beer. That's Frank. Always generous. Always cracking bad jokes.

The closure of the Rose and Crown felt like losing a limb, and the loss of St Jude's will hurt too, even though I don't live locally and thus haven't been able to make it my local. God knows what the regulars must be going through right now. It's ironic that Jude is the patron saint of lost causes.

Located just around the corner from where I once lived, I'd probably never have left the place had it opened while I was still there.

Although in a converted photographer's studio, it's styled after the taverns of old London town.

Wall of beer!

The philosphy is simple: a vast 'wall of beer' on gravity and kitch, gothic decor that makes the place feel like a ghost train or haunted fun house for adults. The staff all know their stuff and there are no handpumps and no keg beer at all.

There is plenty of space for some cracking guest ales in addition to regular beers from the St Jude's brewery and the pub is as friendly as it is quirky. Paradise.

So sad it ends

Unfortunately Frank is now suffering from health problems and the opening of a second St Jude's pub in Felixtowe didn't go as planned, closing just a couple of months after opening, adding financial problems to his health concerns.

Gloriously, Tastelessly Gothic!

The way I see it, Frank got pretty much everything right, which makes it all the more heartbreaking that somehow things haven't worked out. He certainly doesn't deserve this.

Despite being a justified success in it's own right, fate has conspired against the St Jude's brewery tavern, but it's got to be worth one last visit.

I've rearranged my weekend plans to make the trip up to Ipswich for a few beers, and to toast Frank and his wife Colleen who made this dream happen, if only for a short while. 

I might even offer up a prayer to St Jude.

If you're anywhere near the Ipswich area this weekend, I'd strongly recommend doing the same.

There might never be another pub like this! 



NOTE: photos here have been taken from the St Judes Brewery Tavern Facebook group.

Czech this out

The Tweetosphere can be a great thing

OK, so 99.9% of it consists of boring people telling the world stuff that they either know already or don't want to know, but occasionally it throws up nuggets of usefulness.

Earlier today the White Horse in Parson's Green (aka the Sloaney Pony) tweeted that this evening they would be featuring something very rare indeed, and a few hours later I was there, drinking the stuff.

It interested me as a beer ticker looking for rare scoops, but this wasn't just any old one-off, special beer. It was an unfiltered, unpasteurised cask version of Pilsner Urquell

While the vast majority of output from the Czech brewery for decades has been fizzy keg beer, at which I'd turn up my nose, I applaud them for at least making gentle movements in this direction. Let's not forget that they are a part of the International SABMiller group, which has hitherto done fuck-all for real beer. It's a bold step.

A bitter Pils to swallow...

About eight people in 'Pilsner Urquell' shirts turned up to set up the promotional stand and tap the cask with considerable fanfare. Perhaps overkill for what was essentially just a pint of lager, but it's a significant pint of lager nonetheless. Indeed a pint of lager capable of winning arguments and potentially turning the beer scene on it's head.

Nicely but not brain-freezingly chilled, naturally carbonated, and with that slightly spicy, bready character that Czech lagers often have, it was undoubtedly superior to the same beer from bottle, can or keg, which begs the question: why isn't real Continental lager more widely produced, either here or anywhere else on the planet? It's bloody good stuff.

Get Real!

I actually purchased a half of keg Pilsner Urquell just so I could compare the two side by side, and there was no contest. The cask version was fresher, hoppier, and just, well, infinitely superior in every way. I'm not known for being a huge fan of Czech lager, but I'd happily drink this all night. With a curry it would be quite magnificent.

Indeed, the experience assured me that I'm right in my point of view, and that the arrogant approach of 'craft' brewers like Brewdog and Camden Town who dropped cask beer altogether in favour of keg is so absolutely wrong-headed and misguided that there can be no excuses. No defence. No justification.

Surely they have to admit that they're not doing it because keg beer tastes better, but because it's easier to produce and manage and more profitable - the exact same reasons all the big breweries tried to eradicate real ale in the 1970s. The same big breweries that Brewdog love to criticise.

I've always argued that any beer of any style will taste better in cask form, and that all beer was 'real' before they started pasteurising and artifically carbonating in the middle of the last century.

Some folks - like beer writer Tim Webb in his rebuttal to a piece I wrote for London Drinker - take an opposing view, but I'd desperately urge anyone who thinks that cask isn't always best to try the beer I had tonight. Sample it side by side with the keg version as I did. I challenge you.

Here in Britain we were lucky enough to have CAMRA to stand up for, and preserve traditional conditioning and dispense. Just because other countries weren't so fortunate doesn't mean they shouldn't revive the old ways though, and people who claim otherwise are missing a trick.

It would also allow marketing departments to stop misleading the public so brazenly. Kronenbourg might actually resemble the way it really was back in 1664 if they did it in cask to an original recipe, rather than the result of a reboot 300 years later when keg dispense came along.

I'm a long-time CAMRA member, but one of my biggest criticisms of the organisation is the hypocrisy at our beer festivals where foreign keg beers are regularly featured. 

There are some who would like us to move further in that direction and who would have CAMRA condone or even promote British keg beers. 

And to these people I say: Fuck Off.

Fuck Off and start a new organisation if that's how you feel.

The whole purpose of CAMRA was to save cask beer from an encroaching tide of inferior keg. Without that focus, it's a subjective beast at best.

I've long acknowledged that, yes, a good beer in keg form is better than a bad beer in real form, and it doesn't matter one jot for the purposes of this argument. The point is that the same beer is always at it's best when in good condition from the cask.

I've tried Pilsner Urquell the way it would have been decades ago and it's better than the way it's usually served now. The fact that it's lager from the Czech Republic is irrelevant. The great truth is no less true than if we were talking about mild from Manchester or IPA from Aberdeenshire or anything else.

Meanwhile, I got the impression that quite a few casks have come over from Pilsen and the promotions team will be going around several pubs, so take the opportunity to try it if you possibly can.

It might be the best pint of lager you ever drink.