Time for a Beer

It's that time of year - betwixt Goose Fair and Guy Fawkes - which means it must be Nottingham Beer Festival. A pleasant distraction for some, a pilgrimage for others, this huge beer and cider festival casts its net far and wide and brings in thousands of punters from the NG postal district and beyond.

It's moved to a new venue this year (not for the first time - I can still remember when it was held at the local swimming baths), but a bit like the proverbial moth, I care not where the lightbulb is: I'll be there.

You should get down too if you are anywhere near. Friday afternoon is always the optimum time for a gander - busy but not rowdy (the office nitwits are still holed up in their cubicles), 99% of the beers are still on (and in great condition), and the floor hasn't yet turned into a sea of beer slops.

See you just after lunch.

The Very Fabric

Liberty Bridge (taken from Buda) 

It will come as no surprise to you that more than a few beers were consumed on my recent Eastern European jaunt. They like their lagers over there - which, personally, I can take or leave* - but coming up on the inside rail is a burgeoning craft beer scene that is certainly giving Euro-fizz a run for its money. That coupled with the fact that Budapest, our first stopover, is, officially, the cheapest place in Europe to drink beer and, all of a sudden, it's Game On!

Budapest is a tale of two cities, quite literally: a city divided by the Danube: conservative and classical Buda on the East Bank bank and, over the water, Pest (where we were staying) - busy, buzzing and bourgeois (as one of the guides I picked up described it).

Basic Bár (aptly named) was a smashing little find tucked away in the Jewish Quarter. Selling locally brewed Hungarian beers (a great range of IPAs, cherry beers & dark beers) with luxuriant electronica (they love house music as much as they love lager, seemingly) booming out to its Bohemian clientele - not a tourist in sight, it really was the perfect spot.

In his broken English** the barman was able to tell me in words of one syllable just how good his beers were (and they were) and that he piped in John Digweed's "Transitions" (his London radio show/podcast) every week for his discerning punters. This was the one playing when we were in:

 It took me back to the plethora of Fabric CDs I own - many with Digweed remixes - and Saturday nights in particular back at Medd Towers in the early noughties when I took charge of the decks and cooking (knobs and hobs) with Digweed, Sasha et al creating the perfect soundtrack to the best homemade pizzas in town, bar none.  Ask anybody.

* With the exception of Pilsner Urquell Dark which hit the spot later in the week in Prague
** Still way better than my Hungarian

Johnny. Vaughan

From left to right - Johnny & Vaughan

When Kate and Vaughan came over from Lincoln to se us at the weekend I kinda knew that Saturday would be a boozy day. I think we started in Spoons just before midday, moving into town not long thereafter. Our late lunch at the Old Angel (where vegan is really taking hold) was exceptional. And it was great to see flossy behind the bar who used to work at the Hockley Caff.
But by late afternoon/early evening Vaughan and I were only communicating in Michael Caine and David Bowie voices. Come sundown and it all started to go a bit wavy.

I think this photo of us was taken on the cusp. We were having a good night. I do believe we were telling everyone around us we were having a good night.

Happy. And ever so slightly drunk: a great combination.

Behind (10) Bars

English pubs may well be closing at a rate of 20+ a week but, in all fairness, a lot of those falling by the wayside had probably outstayed their welcome anyway. That's not to say that a few babies haven't been thrown away with the beer slops, but, if you don't use them, you'll lose them. Nothing's so sure.

Here are ten that I've used on numerous occasions over the last few years (with a couple of exceptions) and each and every one has a certain quality that makes a return trip a necessity, not an option. That they all sell sensational beers is a given. No, what makes these establishments the real deal often won't get mentioned in beer guides and bucket lists of hipster bars you must visit before you die.

Without further ado then, here are, in no particular order, my ten favourite pubs/bars in the UK (well, nine, actually - the tenth being an honorary English pub which sneaks under the wire, in what I will have to refer to as the Overseas Section).

And, so that you know, this is not a forum for gushing five hundred word critiques. I will endeavour to sum up each hostelry in no more than a couple of sentences.

* Knott Bar, Manchester

The Number One Son lives in Manchester and, for me, going in this cracking little boozer on Deansgate is synonymous with seeing James. Added to which they've got a splendid Ramones tour flyer on the wall, and their fish finger sandwiches are to die for.

* The Harrison, London WC1

It's no secret that my former business partner and I named our company after George Harrison. So it was hardly a coincidence that when we were working (or playing) in London we sought out this hidden little gem tucked away behind the Grays Inn Road. And we still go back to this day.

* The Lamb and Flag, Worcester

This is now the only pub on the British mainland where I'll drink Guinness. The snug at the back is like stepping back in time, and, I'm told, Robert Plant has been known to slide in for a dust cutter.

* The Baltic Fleet, Liverpool

There are two pubs on this list that I've only been to the once and this is the first one. This beautiful little drinking establishment is home to the Wapping Brewey. And they hold an annual sea shanty festival - but don't let that put you off! We're trying to schedule a return visit later in the year.

* The Black Horse, Whitby

If you're a shrinking violet or you're seeking anonymity in a backstreet boozer, this little drinking den in the old own probably isn't for you. You sit cheek by jowl with fellow patrons so getting embroiled in a lively discussion is as natural as walking up to the bar to get the next round.

* Reid's Bar, Lurgan

In my humble opinion this diamond in the rough - Lurgan is not a pretty town - would not be everyone's cup of Nambarrie.  But, if you can, prise yourself away from Belfast, take the (not so fast) train twenty miles into Co. Armagh, disgorge at Lurgan, make your way to Reids and get Raymond Murray to stand you a pint of Smithwicks. Tell him I sent you.

* The Crown, Belfast

Or to give it its full moniker - The Crown Liquor Saloon. When the IRA were blowing up the Europa Hotel for fun back in the seventies, The Crown, which stands directly opposite, never had so much as a cracked window pane. And what (stained) window panes they are. It's owned by the National Trust these days a so that makes it a real treasure, indeed. You'll find me in the third booth from the front door.

* Room With a Brew, Nottingham

Nottingham's newest addition to the micro pub scene and one that we only discovered for the first time a couple of weeks ago. The beers, from Scribbler's Brewery, are all literary themed and the walls are adorned with images of Penguin paperbacks. We went in for one and came out four hours later - says it all really.

* The Adelphi, Leeds

Leeds may or may not want to be part of the Northern Powerhouse. What it really wants is more pubs like the Adelphi. Again, when James was billeted in Leeds for eighteen months I would often meet him in him here for a couple after work; so a sentimental choice maybe, but you'll struggle to find a better pint of Leeds Pale in the city.

* The White Horse Tavern, Greenwich Village

A pretentious choice, I grant you, but if I lived in Manhattan I'd probably make it my local. Dylan Thomas used to hold court in there. Bob Dylan freewheeled in there many a time. Next time you're in New York City be sure you give it a coat of looking at.

Monkey business

It was good to be back in Nottingham this weekend. Our friends we went back with seemed to like it too. I can't rule out a move back at some point; when the time's right.

In the meantime it was good to catch up with old friends and revisit some old haunts. Since we left five years ago (surely the fastest five years of my life) everything's changed and nothing's changed. You'll know the feeling if you ever go back to somewhere you called home for more than half of your life.

Because it was Beer Festival weekend we felt it was only right to not only show the newbies around the festival, but also that there are more decent pubs on one street in Nottingham (make that one side of one street) than in the whole of our little town: many of which are award winning establishments serving award winning beers.

And none finer than The Organ Grinder on Alfreton Road, home to the Blue Monkey Brewery - a modest out of town enterprise owned by Trevor Vickers selling a handful of barrels in 2008, now catapulted to a thriving business with a (mini) chain of establishments across the East Midlands and a classic portfolio of beers to boot. Trevor and his good lady were in on Saturday night and I remember telling him that, not for the first time, Guerrilla was my favourite beer at the festival (as it was last year). What's not to like about this beautiful stout with a chimp wearing a beret on the pump-clip ? He even humoured my friend by signing his beermat for him.

And we've also asked him to make contact with our local up here and see if we can't introduce a few Blue Monkeys into the wilds of North Yorkshire this winter. Where they'll soon turn to brass.

Beer Drinkers & Hellraisers

Not for the first time a rock and roll band have jumped aboard the real ale bandwagon and put their name on a pump clip or a shiny bottle label. Last month the Quo launched Piledriver - a 4.3 % ABV no nonsense amber ale named after their no nonsense 1972 album of the same name. It follows on the heels of Iron Maiden's Trooper and Elbow's Build a Rocket Boys; fine beers both.

Little Willy (# 4 June 1972)  RCA 2225

Wig Wam Bam (# 4 September 1972) RCA 2260

Hell Raiser (# 2 May 1973)  RCA 2357

Fox On The Run (# 2 March 1975) RCA 2524

But spare a thought for The Sweet, a band who are no strangers to this blog. Seemingly, and without their knowledge, their back catalogue is being plundered in the name of beer. And if you don't believe me, check out, in order of release (that's the single, not the beer) Little Willy, Wig Wam Bam, Hell Raiser and Fox On The Run.

They've just had Wig Wam Bam on in my local. I don't know anything about the other three, though two of them at least look like US imports. It can only be a matter of time until Block Buster! and The Ballroom Blitz make their way in to a hostelry near you. Speaking of Ballroom Blitz...

Flash Bang Wallop!

What a picture, what a photograph

I recently entered the BrewDog 2011 Photography Competition; I don't suppose I'll win, but, as you can see from the picture above, it combines two passions of mine. If you took either one away my life would not be complete. Don't get me wrong, I subscribe to the school of good food and good company - but, when push comes to shove, beer and music clock in at 1st and 2nd when it comes to the essentials of life; it's a good day's ride with fresh horses before you come to 3rd.

Tommy Steele: Flash Bang Wallop!

Best thing since sliced bread

If this blog was a tabloid newspaper, the banner headline above would read something like this: 'BAKING BREAD KEPT ME SANE,' SAYS EX-TOWNIE. The truth is a little less prosaic; when I was getting my head round my (by now) much documented move, I read an article in a recent CAMRA magazine about the bond between beer and bread. When adding beer to the flour, yeast and water 'alchemy is unleashed.' So said writer and broadcaster Sue Nowak whose article 'Thorough Bread' ignited my passion.

To cut a long story short I'm now getting the ullage from my local pub and am baking dozens of loaves every week. My unique bread (each loaf is different, depending on the ale I use) is, for better or worse, the talk of the town. Well, alright, the talk of The Sun Inn! I recently spoke to Sue Nowak on the phone - we talked at length about about beer & bread and pubs, the upshot being that she's coming over to The Sun, next Tuesday evening, to see us all and sample the pub's excellent cask beers. And my (soon to be world famous) bread. Cheers!

Thank You World

I'm going out for a few beers tonight with one of my oldest friends. Mark and I go way back: we met over 20 years ago and, as with many bloke relationships, it's a friendship with its roots firmly based in music, beer and football. Over the years we've got drunk in most of Europe's major (and some not so major) cities, as well as on home turf.

I've been under the cosh recently, what with one thing and another (previous and, no doubt, future blogs refer), so it'll be good to slip anchor and do what the male of the species does so well - talking bol**cks. Suffice it to say that stories will be told (and re-told), landlords will be telling us to turn the noise down and carriages will whisk us back to our lodgings sometime before day-break.

It was Mark who introduced me, many years ago, to World Party: he did me a copy of Goodbye Jumbo when it first came out - that C90 then lived in my car for as long as I can remember (I really must thank him for that tonight). Prior to that I'd not really latched on to Karl Wallinger, but have kept an eye on his career thereafter. He's not always had the rub of the green, but, and this isn't true of most troubadours - he's judged by his songwriting peers to be one of the elite. I mention all this because for the last week, whenever my iPod has been on shuffle, World Party have been, pretty much, omnipresent.

So, without further ado (or that Robbie Williams hit), here's a reminder of a couple of Mr. Wallinger's best bits:

Is It Like Today, taken from their 1993 album, Bang!



And, finally, Vanity Fair from 1997's Egyptology - I saw them around this time at Wolverhampton's salubrious Wulfrun Hall. Apologies, in advance, on behalf of the plank who uploaded this clip to YouTube - you'll see why.