The Peasants' Revolt - "We just wanted somewhere where the people of Brentwood could have good beer"

THE PEASANTS'  REVOLT 

- "We just wanted somewhere where the people of Brentwood could have good beer"

If you've been following my blog, or maybe just dipped in from time to time, then you may have been wondering what I've been up to for the past few years. 

It would be too simplistic to say that I lost my taste for writing or that I felt quite disillusioned with the beer scene in this country, it's more complicated than that, and there was Lockdown where none of us knew what was going to happen next and even if we would come out of the other side. My personal experiences through that dark period I will put down at some point, but this is not the place for that. However, if I could put my finger on the one thing that has made me pick up my laptop again after all this time, then it would have to be, without any shadow of doubt, the opening of the Peasants' Revolt micropub in my home town of Brentwood on the 29th January last year.

Of course, these things don't just happen overnight, and the journey that culminated in the opening of the Peasants' Revolt is a long and winding one.

Mason Nathaniel,, grew up in both Poplar and Bow in East London where his drink of choice was a lager top. On a trip to Newcastle with his mates he met Harriet, who would later become his wife. They both worked in recruitment, however Harriet's father just so happened to be Mark Hall, owner of The Split Chimp Micropub in Newcastle and The Split Chimp Ale House in Whitley Bay. It was around this time that Mason had his own beer revelation, and it was Brew Dog's 5am Saint that provided it, although he confesses that Stone's Arrogant Bastard has a fond place in his heart too. "Newcastle changed my view of beer," he tells me, "the way that the people demand good beer, and good quality beer, really opened my eyes."

After living, and learning about beer, in Newcastle for seven years, and marrying Harriet, the couple first moved to Finsbury Park for a year. Harriet however, wanted to move somewhere with "a decent high street", and chose Brentwood to be their home, their son, Fletcher, being born in 2020, and it's his face you'll see on the beer mats should you visit. Mason admits that Harriet was, and is the driving force, "the power behind the scenes", it was her that encouraged him to open the micropub, provided the backing, and still holds down a full-time job in recruitment so that this dream could become a reality. 

In order to get some experience, Mason talked his way into a job behind the bar at the Brave Nelson for three months, a local pub that used to be the sole outlet for Nethergate beer in the area, before opening the Peasants' Revolt in what once was a Bridal Gown shop, just up from Brentwood station.

Mason on the taps

That's how it started, so how's it going?

Personally, I'd been crying out for something like this locally for a long long time, and from the moment I walked up to the bar on opening night I knew I'd found it. 

A pint of cask Thornbridge Jaipur was my first drink there, and it was in such good condition that I immediately ordered another. Mason says that he still remembers me walking up to order my drink, focused on what I wanted, oblivious to everyone else there. That still happens, and quite often I'll walk in and order a drink before turning around and realising that I'd gone straight past some of the many friends I've made there in a little over a year.

The Peasants' Revolt is much more than just a micropub in that respect, and without exception, anyone who walks in is warmly greeted, whether it's their first time visitor or a well established regular. A handshake and an introduction from the man himself are commonplace. Customer service, and making the customer feel relaxed is very much where it's at here, and Mason will talk through the range of beer (and ciders - three or more on gravity dispense, wines and spirits) on offer, highlighting particular flavour characteristics and offering tasters if need be.

The six craft keg taps are the highlight here, and consequently have the highest turnover. 

Tap one is always a lager, and for quite some time it was LoveLeigh Lager from Essex's Leigh on Sea  Brewery, however now you might well find one from Utopian or Exale. Tap two in the most popular, usually a lower abv. Pale or IPA, with taps three and four often, but not always stronger versions or variants. Tap five a stout and tap six a sour normally complete this line up, although this isn't a hard and fast rule, and it's not unusual to see tap three or four have another sour, a porter, or even a Belgian beer, Delirium Red appearing on more than one occasion.

There's cask beer as well, usually two although occasionally three, with a Pale or lighter beer as well as a Bitter available. Recently this tap has included Rebel Rouser, a Red Ale based on Tiny Rebel's Cwtch that Mason brewed in collaboration with Billericay Brewing. A huge beer fridge adds more choice, with cans from Brew York, Stone, Hammerton and Yonder proving popular alongside bottles from The Kernel. A variety of styles are included, as well as some Belgian bottled beers and low alcohol offerings. Crisps (including Scampi Fries obviously) and nuts from Nobby's and KP are the classic pub staples, although if you're very lucky indeed, you could be there on an occasion when Uncle John's home-made samosa's are brought round.

Since it's opening, the Peasants' has built a loyal local following, a community of friends of all ages, who just like good beer and socialising, working or just chatting in an environment which has music as a feature rather than an afterthought. 

Look to your left when you walk through the door and you'll see a the lightning bolt from David Bowie's Aladdin Sane album boldly painted on the wall. Posters from other musical influences can be found as well, especially Two Tone, and the toilet artwork pays homage to the Sex Pistols, The Clash and Madness. Very much part of the atmosphere, the music is louder than you'd find in most micropubs, but it's never intrusive, and the volume seems to be pitched in that sweet spot where you can enjoy a pleasant conversation or sing along should you so wish. DJ nights occur about a month, an erstwhile barman Warren Borg could often be found playing his guitar and singing on a Thursday night, inviting customers to join him behind the microphone. myself included on one occasion, although other work commitments have made this a rarity of late.

Constantly evolving, Mason hasn't been afraid to try something new in order to see what works and what doesn't. The biggest change is yet to come as, having acquired the premises next door, there are plans to expand and improve the pub still further later in the year.

I know it sounds like a cliche, and obviously I'm more than a little biased, but the Peasants' Revolt is simply a great place to be. Always friendly and welcoming, it truly is a home from home, a warm hug of a pub when the world outside can be a little overwhelming. Somewhere to spend the afternoon or evening, a place to call in for a quick one on your way home from work or on your way to the station for a night out. 

On a personal note, the Peasants' has been a place of friendship and laughter, banter and games, conversation and happiness, all with the added pleasure of great beer with great people. I hope to see you there sometime soon.

The Peasant's Revolt Micropub, Kings Road, Brentwood, CM14 4DR is two minutes walk from Brentwood railway station. Catch the Elizabeth line from Liverpool Street, or alternatively catch a faster train to Shenfield, and it's the first stop on the Elizabeth line London-bound.

Opening times:

Tuesday to Thursday 2pm to 10.30pm. Friday and Saturday 2pn until 11pm, Sunday 2pm to 8pm, closed on Mondays.

Whatever Happened To Light and Bitter?

    Whatever Happened To Light and Bitter?    

This might seem like an exercise in nostalgia, and to some extent I guess it is, but sometimes, just sometimes, it's worth pausing and reflecting on where you've come from and what made you who you are.

You might recall that I started this journey around this time last year with this admittedly self-indulgent post on some of the pubs I visited when I was growing up. It's a theme I'll come back to as there are a many more places that I'd like to revisit, some of which I know have changed for the better, and some I suspect for the worse. In more than a quarter of a century (actually it's thirty plus years in some places) it's fairly unlikely that things will be as I remember them, or even if they ever were.

In a way I suppose we're all searching for the familiar and the comforting as much as we're also searching for the new and the exciting, a touchstone, an anchor, that enables us to enjoy new experiences and tastes without venturing too far outside of our comfort zone. We apply this to ourselves in beer all the time: the new beer in a pub you know well; picking a beer from a brewery you know or have heard of; doing some online research prior to going to a new taproom, town, city, or country; asking for advice and recommendations; looking at reviews. These are our comfort blankets, and although the thrill of finding somewhere new or undiscovered, particularly in a different country is undeniable, we know that when we get home we'll still have our safe places, the ones where we know we can relax in comfort.

Back in the late 1980s, certainly between 1986 and 1988, the years of my O-levels and A-levels, that place was the Hinds Head in Dagenham, a mere stumble down the hill from Chadwell Heath station. It's been closed for over ten years now, and I gather it's in the process of being converted into flats, but for around three years this was the place I'd meet up with my friends on a Saturday night to drink light and bitter and play snooker, pool, and occasionally darts.

This was, for all of us I think (we numbered around six to eight most weekends), our first introduction to pubs without our parents. The Hinds Head had been converted into a pub by Whitbread in the early 1950s when it had previously been a social club, and as a consequence had a large games room at the back where we were mainly left alone, all the serious drinking going on in the main bars to the front.

Light and Bitter, that magical drink that meant you always got more than a pint for your money. I wish I could remember exactly why we started drinking it, because I don't think it was for that reason, although we certainly appreciated it, but I have a real feeling it was on the recommendation of the barman, always the same one in the back room, who wanted to keep us in check by making sure we 'watered down' our beer.

  We used to feel quite grown up I recall, not sophisticated though, that was never our intention, although this must seem simply archaic to those who've never experienced this drink as to many of the newer beer drinkers it probably brings to mind black and white images of men in flat caps and tweed jackets nestled around tables carefully nursing a pint with a bottle of light ale perched alongside. Someone's playing a piano in the corner too.

For those unfamiliar with this drink, Light and Bitter is, as you might expect, a half of Bitter (usually a bit more, three quarters wasn't uncommon) served in a pint glass or mug with a bottle of Light Ale as an accompaniment. This was to be mixed as you saw fit, either in measured stages but more usually as half the bottle, taking it almost to the top, and the other half when you were down to the half pint level again.

  This drink is also known as a Light and Ordinary in some parts, particularly in the Young's pub I drank in when I started work in London's East End, the Ordinary being Young's Bitter as opposed to Young's Special. The Light Ale was from Young's as well, although when I was drinking it back in the Hinds Head it was all Whitbread Bitter and, of course, Whitbread Light Ale.

I couldn't remember the last time I saw anybody order or drink a Light and Bitter in any pub I was in for at least ten years, so I put out a request on Twitter to see if anyone still drunk it, anywhere was still serving it, or if anyone had any memories of drinking it.

My first port of call were Boak and Bailey although my question to them was around Light Ale specifically and whether they still saw it on their travels.
They replied:
"Yes, every now and then, especially in Young's pubs. The Titanic in Southampton had it the other week too, Courage branded. No apparent rule as to where it crops up. We'd guess it has to do with nostalgic landlords  and/or a handful of older customers who get through a case every six months or so."

When I put the main question to a wider audience the first to reply was Pub culture vulture who echoed my experiences:
"I still drink it. Introduced to it in the early 90s when I moved to London. It's a 'value' beer, not least because you used to get slightly more than a pint."
Times have changed though, as he went on:
"It was always Young's bitter and either their light ale or Whitbread's. Everywhere seems to pour the bitter into a half pint glass first now, but there are still a few pubs where they don't do that. I used to judge how good a pub was by how much bitter they poured into a pint."

Carsmile Steve:
"I have it when I visit the Shakespeare's Head behind Saddler's Well because: a. They know what one is, and b. There's only so many pints of straight Courage Best I can deal with."

Bacchanalian:
"Old timers were still drinking it in the late nineties / early noughties in the social club I used to work in. Not many though."

Nigel Hillpaul:
"I started drinking it is pubs as it was good value.
I can remember going to a strange pub and asking for one, only to be told: "We don't serve cocktails"."

Rodger Molyneux let me know a few places that he frequents that still sell it, The Leather Bottle in Blackmore, Essex, and not too far from me still serve it , although only two customers still drink it, and Tom Ray  suggested that it's a good way of livening up a tired cask (beer) ... particularly Greene King IPA.

With all this information what I really needed to do was go and find some for myself, to see if it was a drink best left in the past or whether it was actually relevant, particularly to me, in this day and age. I had a few days off work due, so I decided that this was when I would seek it out, reasoning that a Young's pub would probably be my best bet.

My first attempt was at Old Tom's Bar in Leadenhall Market, but this was thwarted by the fact that even though they had plenty of bottles of Light Ale in the fridge they didn't have any suitable Bitter to pair with it. It was probably the only day of the year that they didn't have any Young's Bitter but that was the day I chosen.

Undeterred I knew I had another day out to come and, of course, on this occasion I was finally able to try it again.

The Town of Ramsgate in Wapping was the fourth and final pub to visit on my walk along the Thames River Path, The Grapes, The Grapes, The Prospect of Whitby, and the Captain Kidd being the other three, and I was delighted to find that they had both Young's Bitter on cask and bottles of Light Ale, Young's of course, in the fridge. I was even more delighted by the measure of Bitter I was poured when I first asked for it, and if you want to know why then you only have to look at the first picture in this post.

There were plenty of diners towards the rear of the pub so I made my way to the front where I could be alone with my treasure. I took a tentative sip of the Bitter before adding the Light Ale, its glorious copper colour seemingly glowing in the light streaming through the window. This was my moment, and I took a deep pull on the pint before me. Smooth and refreshing, the bitterness of the Young's Bitter dialed back slightly by the Light Ale. The maltiness comes through and lingers long into the finish, but it's not harsh, reminding me of nothing more than a soft and crumbly golden digestive biscuit. I had drunk nearly half by now, so I took the time to do what it possibly the best thing about this drink; I topped up my pint with more light ale until it was full again, enabling both to savour the taste all over again and transport me back to those nights some thirty-odd years ago in the back room of a pub in Dagenham, listening to the clink of snooker balls striking each other and the distant thud of darts into a dartboard.

Our Friends in the North East

Our Friends in the North East
                      or
Why I didn't make it to Wylam

Driving north from my native Essex there are a series of landmarks that trigger a feeling that I'm moving in the right direction: the will it / won't it congestion gamble where the end of the M11 meets the A14, the bushes that signify the end of the motorway section of the A1 at Peterborough, the Hawker Siddeley Harrier GR3 outside RAF Wittering, and the now sadly closed and boarded up Ram Jams public house. Next comes Stamford, then Grantham, then Doncaster, the cooling towers at Ferrybridge, the run to Scotch Corner, before we finally get somewhere that we always feel compelled to stop, get out of the car and marvel at its iconic majesty.

Anthony Gormley's Angel of the North never ceases to make me feel that arrived somewhere, and on this occasion that somewhere is a few days in Newcastle.

Newcastle is somewhere, to my shame, I've only been once before. That was four years ago almost to the day where it provided a welcome overnight stop on a drive to a holiday in Edinburgh. The briefest taste of the place and the friendliness of the people we met meant it was always somewhere I'd wanted to return to, so when a suitable opportunity presented itself we did.

After settling in and unwinding a while at the quayside apartment we'd booked our first destination was, as it had been four years previously, The Bridge Tavern.

Situated between the stanchions of the famous Tyne Bridge, there's been an ale house on this site for around two hundred years. This was demolished when the bridge was built then rebuilt in its shadow, although if I hadn't been absolutely certain of where it had been last time we were there I'd have thought that I was in the wrong spot because, as the picture below shows, its former name of the Newcastle Arms is still proudly displayed on the stonework.

Making our way upstairs we found that the tables we had occupied all those years before were free once more, as if awaiting our return. I also remembered two of the things that made my previous visit so memorable. The first was the friendliness of the people, willing to engage in conversation about absolutely anything. To be fair most of my conversations in pubs involve beer, and those that don't have often started that way, but rather than a short answer or a "sorry mate, cheers", there seems to be a genuine interest in both the beer and you. The second, remember I am from Essex, is sparklers. That's all I'm saying.

My first beer was the Tavern Inn Midnight Oats. Brewed on the premises its light roasty chocolate taste perfectly setting up my appetite for both beer and food for the evening. The food would be haggis toasties with quails eggs accompanied by pigs head croquettes alongside Wylam Brewery's hazy, juicy DDH IPA The Shape.

There was time for one more before we moved on, so I opted for Almasty's Chocolate and Caramel Stout, which delivered every flavour it promised, a wonderful beer, and its taste was still lingering tantalisingly on my tongue as we walked along the banks of the Tyne.

We took pictures, you have too, the Tyne bridge, Baltic Flour Mill, Gateshead Millennium Bridge and The Sage centre, look so beautiful with their lights reflecting off the water, but in reality my mind had already drifted a little further down the river, just beyond the mouth of the Ouseburn.

The Free Trade Inn had, over many years, taken on an almost mythical status for me. It had become the pub that I never quite made it to, fate intervening on every previous attempt. Tonight I was determined to make it.

As I got closer I could feel the anticipation building. They do say that you should never meet your idols, and was beginning to hope that this didn't apply to pubs as well. I needn't have worried. The Free Trade Inn was everything I'd hoped and more.

This white-banded island of a building, like the prow of a ship gazing out over the Tyne, stands alone, silent and majestic. Inside it's warm, both in temperature and greeting, the yellowing walls and stripped wooden counter full to bursting with hand pumps and keg fonts. I walk its length and back again contemplating my first beer, Mordue's A'l Wheat Pet, before taking a seat at one of the lower level tables, it's blue star still blazing beneath the patina of years of spilled beer. I don't think I've ever felt so at home in a pub straight away. I may have even let out an audible sigh.

My wife and children relaxed into their seats and started a conversation, it had been a long day, but I found myself captivated by my surroundings, hardly able to believe that I'd actually made it. Time for more beer.

There'd been a Left Handed Giant tap takeover the previous weekend and quite a few of the beers were still on so, despite being warned by the attentive bar staff that they were pricier than some of the other beers I opted for a dry and bitter Cycle City IPA on keg which disappeared in no time at all.

Almasty's excellent Echelon Pale was followed by Beavertown's Grateful Bread Breakfast Kvass, one of their Tempus Project beers, by which time the day was starting to catch up with me at last and it was time to go back.

Visiting the gents at The Free Trade Inn is a feast for the eyes, with years of graffiti overlapping and interweaving with no inch of wall uncovered. There's humour, insults, pathos and pictures, all human life displayed in pen and ink. I lingered a little longer than I perhaps should have taking it in.

There was something else that needed doing as we made our way outside, and, like hundreds of drinkers before me, took a picture back up the Tyne towards the lights of city.

Wednesday dawned and after an amazing breakfast at Quay Ingredient (thank you for the tip Mr Vane) we headed out of town to the edge of the Roman Empire.

I didn't expect Vindolanda to offer much in the way of beer, however I was surprised to see that there were references to it on some of the tablets that had been discovered preserved in the mud there.

Not far away is the Twice Brewed Inn and Brewery which depending on which direction you're coming from is either in Once Brewed (East) or Twice Brewed (west). Dating from at least the 18th Century, this solid stone building is warm and inviting, standing up to the elements in this desolate part of Northumberland.

The beers, either cask or bottle are available on the bar to drink on the premises or take away. They all, usurprisingly have Roman-inspired names, and I went for the Ceres Dunkelweizen which had a light, prickly chocolate flavour and slid down very easily.

The brewery itself is in an adjoining building although we were more captivated by the 'Weather Forecasting Stone', although it was far windier than it was indicating.

Visits to the Roman Army Museum and Housesteads Roman Fort high up on the remains of Hadrians Wall, completed our day although, back in Newcastle that evening we did find a rather good Sardinian restaurant to have dinner.

Thursday was our last full day in Newcastle and we were going to use it to explore the city properly at last.

We'd only booked our visit a couple of days before we went, and after I tweeted that I was finally going to do the city justice I was inundated with suggestions of places to go for both food, and of course drink. There were so many we couldn't hope to visit them all, and there were a few sights we wanted to see too, we tried to do our best.

Breakfast was again taken at Quay Ingredient, bacon and maple syrup on french toast if you ask, before we headed uphill to the Castle and on to the Discovery Centre where the children could play at being children and let their hair down a bit.

Just on the Gateshead side of the river is the container community that is home to the By The River Brew Co., a brewery that is as much on the river as it is by it. Opened in the summer of 2017, it was perfectly placed to take advantage of the magnificent weather, becoming the hottest spot on the Tyne in more ways than one. If you had any beery folk on your Twitter or Instagram feed from the Newcastle area then you will have most likely read or seen the buzz around this place.

There was a chilly wind blowing along the river when we arrived so, although it was bright we made our way inside and made ourselves comfortable at the most central table in the place, one where we could soak up the atmosphere inside while still being able to look out over the Tyne.

The beer menu had plenty of interesting beer on offer but whenever you're at a brewery it makes obvious sense to order at least one that was brewed on the premises which is why Sarah and I both went for the Proto Banger IPA,  hoping that it would live up to it's name. We certainly weren't disappointed as it was indeed exactly as promised, a hazy, juicy IPA with soft dry finish.

The interior of the bar extends into a restaurant at the far end, and space is limited due to the nature of the place. Even though we hadn't realised it when we arrived it became clear that the tables around us, despite being unoccupied, were all reserved for lunch and we were lucky to actually get a seat inside. We were close to the wood burner too, providing welcoming warmth and despite there being plenty of outdoor seating no-one was prepared to brave the elements when room could be found inside.

I'd wanted to get to quite a few places today but one beer had caught my attention that I wanted to have before leaving. It's Not Mike Porter, a collaboration between By The River and Northern Monk, is big cherry vanilla coffee porter with the vanilla and chocolate flavours very clean and defined and the cherry lending an over-arching tartness. The finish was long, deep and lingering and stayed with me long after we'd left the bar and made our way back over the Tyne bridge into the heart of the city.

After spending the afternoon walking around the shops and markets clustered around the Grey's Monument, commemorating Charles, the second Earl Grey, the local-ish boy who became Prime Minister and under whose government slavery was abolished in the British Empire before having a tea named after him, we were in need of a drink and respite. We'd passed dAt bAr a on our way here, it's literally just around the corner, so that seemed as good a place as any.

A pizza and burger restaurant, I remember the buzz on social media when dAt bAr opened its door in early 2014 mainly due to its beer range. Now four years old, the decor is starting to show its age, unless of course it was originally designed to look a little tired in which case it's rather good.

As a first time visitor walking in I was confronted by a host of individual keg fonts with no obvious beer list or numbering system. Looking perplexed I asked what beer was on only to be pointed to the large chalk board to my right. Choosing Almasty's Breakfast IPA I was equally surprised when a seemingly unmarked font was approached and the beer poured. Spotting my expression the silver numbers on the bar top relating to the numbers on the board were pointed out to me by the man serving me, admitting that it had been a mystery to him too before he was shown.

The Breakfast IPA was big and hazy, the grapefruit and orange flavours very pronounced really like the breakfast juice it was attempting to mimic. Big juicy bitterness and a dry grapefruit flavour led it by the hand to the finish, the perfect after-shopping refresher.

Despite burgers for dinner being the order of the day we weren't going to eat here, I been advised by Emma Mitchell (@minkewales on twitter) to try nearby Meat:Stack who'd catered at her wedding, but looking at the list again we decided we wanted another drink here first.

We went for Summer Wine's Ripple Heights with its sweet aroma of raspberries and vanilla ice cream. This is a beer that would probably be too sweet for many and although I'd consider myself to have a relatively sweet tooth it was right on the borderline for me. This beer has a particularly good finish akin to a lingering frozen raspberry death rattle.

Meat:Stack didn't disappoint. We chose the upstairs bar in preference to the noisier, darker bar downstairs mainly because we all preferred it, and we did have the place to ourselves for most of our dinner.

The cheeseburgers were amazing. I went for the Yellowstone, a double cheeseburger with baconnaise, hash browns, fried onions and American cheese, we all had the beef dripping fries, and this was all washed down with Brewdog's Lost Lager. This was one of the best burgers I've had and we'll be heading here again next time we're back in town.

I'd wanted Wylam to be my ultimate destination this evening, but as we made our way up Northumberland Street it was becoming apparent that the previous days exertions along Hadrians Wall coupled with the time we'd been out today meant that had started to look pretty unlikely.

Just around the corner on St Mary's Place, down some steps between a pub and a restaurant is The Town Mouse and, as it was close, this is where we went.

Warm and inviting, pretty much as soon as I'd walked in I found myself in conversation with the barman and another chap at the bar, I felt at home right away. There was only one table near the door, the chill of a late October evening keeping a space that we happily occupied.

One of the things that makes my heart sing most when I'm away is a beer selection full of beers and breweries I haven't tried before, and as the people of Newcastle are justifiably proud of their local beer scene and that of the North East of England, it had been my pleasure to drink beer from local breweries wherever possible. The beer list at The Town Mouse micropub was no exception.

The North Riding Brewery in Scarborough may well be just under a hundred miles from Newcastle-upon-Tyne but it's still in the North East, and it was their NE Pale on cask that I opted for first, it's big juicy bitterness sliding down incredibly quickly it was immediately time for another beer.

Box Social were a brewery I'd heard  Myles Lambert sing the praises of on the North East Sippin Forecast podcast and seeing that they had their Blackcurrant Ripple on keg was a temptation I didn't have to resist. Unfortunately for me, the barman proclaimed that he wasn't happy with the way it was looking so asked my to chose something else.

Reluctantly I opted for Wilde Child and Brass Castle's Adoption Process Passion fruit IPA, however no sooner had I paid for that than another beer appeared alongside it. Looking up, I was told that although he wasn't willing to sell it he was perfectly happy to give me a half to try as there was not really anything wrong with it.

It was getting quite busy in the basement bar now, those who had lingered after work were now being joined by those out for the evening, and our table was being eyed quite hungrily by those standing. While we didn't feel under any pressure to vacate it tiredness had started to creep up on me, and I started to work out how far away from Wylam Brewery we were.  Fifteen minutes doesn't seem like a long walk, but having two tired teenagers in tow I knew it wasn't going to happen tonight.

It was my wife who came to the rescue and suggested a compromise. Although we had to leave our apartment by eleven she was perfectly happy to drive me over for a drink there when it opened at midday. Satisfied and frankly grateful for this we finished our drinks and began the anticipated half hour walk back to where we were staying.

Fortunately the Metro came to our rescue, and double-fortunately it took us directly to Newcastle Central Station, home to Centrale Beer Shop, although it did take a little while going up and down the platform until we actually found it.

Situated on platform 12, although I now only know that in hindsight, the selection of beer available was staggering. I could have spent a fortune here but showing much restraint and with the guidance of Bruce the owner I had soon amassed a fine selection of great beer from local breweries.

Bruce is very knowledgeable, and it was a pleasure talking to him about beer and the scene in Newcastle, he even gave me a tote bag to help carry them back. I promised him that it would go with me every where from now on, I'd become a walking advert for his shop, so if you see a lonely figure guarding beer in a Centrale bag in Essex, London, or further afield then that person could well be me.

A few beers back at our apartment looking out over the Tyne and it was time for bed on our last night. Still, there was Wylam tomorrow.

Except there wasn't.

Those of you who have been paying attention will have noticed that our last full day in Newcastle was a Thursday. Re-checking the brewery opening times I realised that I had my dates wrong. Today was Friday, and I'd checked the opening times for Saturday by mistake. Wylam wasn't opening until five o'clock in the evening, far too late for us. It was time to make other plans.

Turning to Twitter I needed a different plan for our journey home. Twitter responded and we were soon on our way to ...

I'll leave that one for my next post.

There are so many people I need to thank for their help and advice in making my short stay in the Toon so enjoyable. Although I didn't get to meet up with Myles, who I mentioned earlier, on this occasion the excellent North East Sippin Forecast podcast is well worth a listen and is now hopefully back on schedule. Similarly Emma @minkewales for Newcastle recommendations, and Andrew her husband (previously @sheriffmitchell on Twitter, but no more) for an amazingly helpful email pointing out the best places to visit along Hadrians wall. We almost managed them all. Whoever manages the twitter account for The Free Trade Inn @TheFreeTradeInn, I really sorry we never actually got to meet. To all the people I met along the way and told them that my family history takes me back to the North East thank you for humouring me, you listened very attentively. And lastly but definitely not least, a huge thank you to Daisy (@daisy_turnell) who was, for all intents and purposes my virtual Newcastle tour guide. Thank you so much for all your help and suggestions, and the invite to the brand new Anarchy tap room that I sadly couldn't attend. I definitely owe you a beer.

Next time I'm going to get to Wylam.

IT'S ALIVE!

IT'S ALIVE!
A Bottle Conditioned Beer Event

It''s a warm Thursday afternoon in early October and I'm sitting outside The White Horse in Parsons Green with a pint of Ilkley's Mangoes Overboard, occasionally checking my watch for the six o'clock deadline. It's a deadline that I really don't want to miss as tonight beer writers and brewers are gathered together to celebrate bottle-conditioned, and as we shall see, can-conditioned beer.

Bottle conditioning, as I'm sure you are well aware, is the process of adding priming sugars into a bottle containing beer which has little or no carbon dioxide which enables refermentation in the bottle. It is this that brings the beer into condition, continuing the fermentation which produces carbon dioxide, making the beer naturally carbonated and as similar, in many cases, to the cask conditioned product. To quote The Oxford Companion to Beer, "Bottle conditioning, when done properly, can result in a beer with a finer, silkier texture of carbonation, superior foam retention, more complex flavo(u)rs, longer ag(e)ing ability than beers that are "force carbonated"."

Gathering in the upstairs rooms, where once I brewed a Citron Pilsener with Martyn Cornell and Andy Parker, now of Elusive Brewing renown, we are seated at tables laden with glasses, and platters of bread, meat and cheese, ready for the panel in front of us to introduce both themselves and tonight's beers.

After a brief welcome from Rupert Ponsonby from R&R Teanmwork, who have invited us here tonight, Jeff Evans, editor of eight editions of the Good Bottled Beer Guide, is ready to give us a brief history of bottle-conditioned beer.

He asks us to forget the apocryphal story of it's invention some 400 or so years ago by the Hertfordshire rector and angler, Dr Alexander Nowell who, after a fishing trip, left a full bottle of home brewed ale by the river, only returning a few days later to discover the still full bottle had continued its fermentation. "He found no bottle, but a gun, such was the sound at opening". (Martyn Cornell also debunks the myth in this excellent post on the subject ). 

Potentially the story of bottle (or flask, or leather bag) conditioned beer goes back millennia, but certainly goes back to the 18th century when beer was first put into bottles for sale commercially. It was the advent of pasteurisation, the process that killed bacteria, making for a consistently uninfected product that meant that bottle conditioned beer became little more than a footnote in history.

With the formation of CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale) in 1971 there were only 5 bottle conditioned beers available in the UK, including Spingo from The Blue Anchor in Cornwall, Worthington's White Shield, and the recently revived Thomas Hardy's Ale, produced at that time by Eldridge Pope in Dorset.

With the uplift in cask conditioned beer there was, from the early 1980s, a revival in bottle conditioned beer. By 1990 there were more and more available, so many in fact that in 1991 CAMRA passed a motion at it's AGM to actively promote these beers. 

As a result of this Jeff persuaded CAMRA to produce a book on the subject, and in 1997 the CAMRA Guide to Real Ale in a Bottle was produced. He wasn't happy with either the title or the cover, and in 1998 this was relaunched as the Good Bottled Beer Guide.

By the time of the 2009 edition there were over 1300 bottle conditioned beers in the UK alone, with foreign bottle conditioned beers, including the iconic Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, swelling that number.

There has been no new book since the 2013 edition, and there are approximately 1800 beers that meet the criteria now, but Jeff left us with the parting comment that it might be possible that an up to date edition is not too far away.

First to present their beer was Stuart Cail from Harviestoun Brewery in Scotland.

Schiehallion Lager (4.8%) came to us in a 75cl sharing bottle which Stuart informed us that they had just started producing. This bottle conditioned version started as a trial sample which was tested locally before they made the decision to expand. To my mind it tasted a bit flat, with the aroma of burnt tyres, a little maltiness with some lemon in the mix. This faded quickly and the general consensus at our table was that the beer was in poor condition.

The same couldn't be said of the next beer, Ola Dubh at 10.7%. This was the cask strength version which Stuart told us was aged in Highland Park whisky casks. There was a little of the same burnt tyre aroma as the Sciehallion initially but this was quickly overtaken by a nose full of boozy dark chocolate and coffee. It had a deep chocolate flavour and a long, lingering finish, one that completely removed all traces of the previous beer.

Pat McGinty from Marstons then spoke to us about their approach to bottle conditioned beer. For them, he said, it was all about wanting to give the consumer the experience and taste of cask conditioned Marstons Pedigree in a bottle.

The beer is brewed in the traditional way, on the Burton Union System in Burton on Trent, but the new process involved here was understanding how much yeast was needed in the bottle in order to give exactly the result they were after.

After much trial and error they hit upon the winning formula, although there was some initial confusion with consumers over the haze resulting in the yeast in the beer, and helping them understand that bottle conditioning was a continuation of the brewing process. He finished his talk with the following phrase which summed up what they are striving for: "Bottle conditioning is the way forward, it's what real beer is all about."

We were then giving some of the bottle conditioned Marstons Pedigree (4.5%) to try, and they really have done a fantastic job with it. The aroma retains that classic sulphurous 'Burton snatch', with a hint of cardboard and a little roasted malt. Quite thin, it was clean and fresh tasting, with that distinctive Pedigree malty flavour with the merest hint of berry fruits. It was astonishingly close to the cask version in great condition and I would have welcomed the opportunity to taste them side by side.

Next it was the turn of Justin Hawke from Moor Beer Co. who talked about the influence that both cask beer and the beer he had whilst stationed in Germany with the US military had on both him and the beer he now produces.

After a night out drinking they would notice that the naturally cloudy, unfiltered, naturtrub beer he and his companions had been drinking meant that they avoided hangovers the following day, but it was cask beer that he had fallen in love with and it was this that led him to come to the UK and start brewing. This was something that, once you know, is obvious to see and taste in Moor's beer, something that has made their uncompromising position on both unfiltered beer and taste in abundance both admired and respected.

When it came to canning the beer Justin was adamant that he didn't want to give up the natural conditioning of the beer, and both the sugar and yeast content was carefully measured to ensure that he was content that the same beer goes into cask, keg, bottle and can.

All three of the beers we tasted from Moor were out of the can, with Nor Hop (4.1%) with it's score of 100% for style on RateBeer being first. This has a gorgeous tropical aroma, lime mango, passion fruit and dragon fruit all inter-mingling wonderfully, and with a wonderful taste that delivers everything the nose promises.

Do It Together is a Mango Tea Pale Ale at 5.2% abv, with a slightly musty green tea and passion fruit aroma. It glides over the tongue elegantly before delivering those flavours all over again for maximum impact.

The final beer from Moor was Old Freddy Walker Strong Old Ale (7.3%) which had a strong chocolate malt aroma, like a chocolatey horlicks. It was thinner than I remembered but the chocolate malt punch was swift and welcome, the taste fading wonderfully slowly leaving a subtle reminder of the beer before.

Roger Ryman of St. Austell Brewery spoke of how a trip to Marstons to see what they were brewing led him to set up his own version of the Union System to experiment with. We were told that St. Austell are possibly the biggest producer of bottle conditioned beer in the UK, with Proper Job IPA (5.5%) taking up a third of that production.

We were then given bottles of Proper Job to try. First brewed in 2006, the bottle conditioned version is filtered then re-seeded with yeast and when it was tested against a 'bright' filtered version with consumers there was no comparison; the bottle conditioned beer "absolutely smashed it".

The initial aroma reminded me a little of 'cheesy' feet, although that may have been down to the brie I had just consumed, but there was more of that burnt tyre aroma I experienced with the Harviestoun beers (which I am inclined to believe may be down to the carbon dioxide produced in re-fermentation) before a wave of lemon hit my senses. The beer itself was clean and fresh tasting, with some biscuity malt accentuated by the lemon notes from the hops. It finished clean and succintly on that same biscuity lemon note, a beautiful beer by all accounts. I can't remember the last time I had some Proper Job but I'll be making a point of having at least one next time I do.

The Bad Habit Abbey Tripel (8.2%) was the second and final beer from St.Austell, one that Roger confessed was a bit of an indulgence as he wanted to explore the flavours of the Belgian beers he loves so much. This had a sharp, sweet aroma, with that classic Belgian yeast note reminding me quite considerably of Chimay Blue. There were some dark fruit notes in the flavour and it tasted quite sweet, however we all noted that it didn't linger on the palate as you may expect a Belgian beer of this strength to do, rather it rinsed itself away, the flavours all collapsing in on themselves before seemingly disappearring down a drain in the middle of the tongue. None of us found this unwelcome just unusual, and it's certainly a beer I'd like to try again.

Our final speaker of the evening was John Keeling of Fullers someone who is never short of an opinion. He also had two bottles of their Vintage Ale with him which I will come to in a moment, but before that I want to start with three direct quotes that I noted down from what he said which seemed to sum up what this whole evening was about. They were:

"Bottle conditioned beers are never the same as cask beers."

"Bottle conditioned beers are the supreme example of small package beers."

and lastly,

"Bottle conditioned beers exist in their own right."

The first Vintage Ale was the most recent, the 2017 (8.5%) which was relatively light tasting. It positively glowed in the glass with a distinct raisin and biscuit aroma. I last had this beer shortly after it's release and someone remarked after their first sip how it had changed in the last 9 months. The slight bitterness I remember had faded away and this was a more complex beer, the raisin notes accentuated, hinting at plums and damsons, but that malty biscuit backbone was still very defined.

The next bottle was the Vintage Ale 2010 (8.5%) and this was an altogether different affair. Noticeably darker in the glass, it had a more complex raisin and fudge aroma with flashes of madeira and whisky coming through as well. It was also fuller over the tongue, with a big burst of raisin, date and dark fudge, none of the biscuit to support it either, rather the malts were chewy like burnt toffee, it was absolutely stunning. These flavours stayed with me after I'd drunk it, building with each sip, a truly beautiful experience.

Fortunately I have a bottle of this, and many other years of the Vintage Ale at home, although when asked about tasting this at the right time John suggested we should,
"Buy 64 bottles of each vintage on release and try it every three months or so."

He went on to explain the method they use at Fullers for the Vintage Ale where they chill the beer at one fifth gravity, although I missed the next part as I was rather distracted by the sublime beer in the glass in front of me.

When asked about the changes in the beer and how to account for them he replied in a phrase that was honest and summed up my experience and the science of ageing beer for me:

"Changes are so difficult to predict so you just have to enjoy the ride as it goes on."

After thanking the speakers and respectfully applauding it was revealed that there was one more treat in store for us that evening.

When we had arrived a line of vintage Bass ales was pointed out to us along the shelf at the back of one of the rooms. A beautiful display of bottle conditioned beer I thought at the time, and took an appropriate picture as it wasn't too crowded in the area at that point.

When the noise of applause had died down it was revealed that they were opening a bottle of the Bass & Co. Ratcliff Strong Ale, brewed on the 16th December 1869, for us to try.

We were all given thimble-fulls of this beer which, considering it's age I tasted with some trepidation. It poured a murky brown colour, and the aroma had a touch of dusty port about it. Initially muddy and musty it quickly changed character and became a deep rich madeira flavour. Hints of raisin, not unlike the last Vintage Ale, began to appear, and it finished incredibly smooth and complex. At nearly 150 years old this was certainly a beer to savour but my small pour was finished far too quickly for my liking. Luckily there was still plenty left so I managed to grab another so that I could enjoy this rare and wonderful experience all over again.

Tonight had truly shown what a wonderful thing bottle conditioned beer made by people that really care about the beer they produce and the taste the consumer enjoys, can be. As a prelude to the launch of Bottle Conditioned Beer Week in 2019 (see the flyer at the top of this post if you missed that bit) it couldn't have been much better.

I'd like to thank Marstons for organising the event, R&R Teanwork for the invite, the speakers for their informative and enjoyable words, particularly for humouring me and fielding my additional questions afterwards, and to The White Horse on Parsons Green for such a wonderful evening. I had an amazing time and am extremely grateful to everyone involved. It was also great to catch up with so many of my fellow writers and beer lovers too, cheers to all.