An English brewer hosts a festival at their brewery tap. With German Oktoberfest and French micro-brewed beers. A spare Sunday afternoon. Should I go?

Ja, mon petit choufleur.

Pete Hounsell at Amber Ales has established a reputation for beers out of the ordinary. Inspiration and experimentation have led him to brew the likes of Jasmine IPA, a full-on saison and the multi-award-winning Chocolate Orange Stout. And he employs the same passion in tracking down beers out of the ordinary for his festivals.

Now, don't get me wrong. His own beers were standouts. Imperial IPA is the style on a short leash; plenty of bite, plenty of depth, no over-exuberant late hopping, enough alcohol to warm you. Double Chocolate Stout had heaps of earthy cocoa, roasty rather than sickly. The continental bottles, however, took the afternoon to another dimension.

I have a weakness for German bottled beers. Lets be clear, here: I've never been to Germany as a 'beer tourist' so I have no idea what quality German draft beer tastes like. But I love lots of the bottles I've tried. Two of my favourites were on sale here, the clean-and-crisp Augustiner Edelstoff and the feisty-bitter Schneider Hopfen-Weiss. Which I would have happily drank all day if it wasn't for Brasserie Thiriez.

The brewer is based in Esquelbecq, a village so far into Northern France that it's almost in the North Sea. It's also just over the border from Belgium, which clearly influences Thiriez's beers. The amber and blonde are solid stuff, the latter winning me over with its initial sweetness tempered well by citric bitterness into a drying finish.

Even better was Etoile Du Nord, originally a collaboration beer with John Davidson of Swale Brewery. Riddled with Bramling Cross, it could be described as a hoppy saison or a Belgian IPA. I don't give a monkey's chuff; I'll call it the best bitterish slighly spiced bottle beer I've had this year. Only 4.5%, it's the kind of beer that if it were made by a progressive English / US micro, geeks would be wetting their pants. Instead of which, it seems to be France's best-kept beery secret.

And that's before we get to their Vieille Brune. I could easily wax lyrical about this, but here's the summary: perfectly balanced sour ale. All the right notes in the right order. I'm not used to beers blindsiding me but this had me done stone cold. 

Maybe the trick is to think not of Northern France but West Flanders Plus A Bit. Whichever way, Brassiere Thiriez are making some of the most exciting beer to come out of almost-Belgium. And being able to try them on a soggy day in Derbyshire's Amber Valley is all down to the foresight of an English publican who understands the value of great beer. I'll raise a glass to that. Si danke schon, bonjour! >

I love farmers' markets. Not because I'm a fervent supporter of low-carbon, organic-certified, local-hero produce. I just love damn tasty food and drink.

But the one thing that's often a let-down is the beer on offer. Maybe some slightly flabby bottle-conditioned stuff from a brewer who isn't really local but puts themselves around a lot. Perhaps some 'hilarious' Old Fart or Big Cock from Direct Beers, truely the purveyors of the "worst beers in the world".

Belper is just up the road from where I live and attracts a more eclectic collection of traders than the market held in nearer-by Derby. Coffee roasters, fancy mushrooms, duck-egg and quail-egg scotch eggs... and proper beer. Amber Ales have a stall and offer bright beer to takeaway in two or four-pint jugs. Now that strikes me as a sterling idea - especially when the first thing I want to do when I get back from the market is tuck into a long, grazing session with the stuff I bought so a cool pint of beer goes... just so.

Four pints of Amber Pale, now hopped with Santiam to give it a melon/peachy edge, punctuated a sunny Saturday afternoon of lunching, lawnmowing and laid back choons. I dare say it would have kept in the fridge for a day or so but when beer tastes that good, why wait?

If you know of any other farmers' markets that offer quality beer - cask or bottle - do let me know.

And if you happen to be in Belper, do pay a visit to Liquid Treasure. With the likes of Thornbridge, Orval, Saison Dupont and Jever in the fridges I hope we're in for a long hot summer. >

Some brewers are relentless. Opening the brewery on a Saturday so customers can buy pints or pins or barrels to take away. Running a stall at their local farmer's market to put their beer into the hands of people who appreciate quality local produce. Looking for innovative pub schemes that develop the local market for their brews. Brewing using jasmine, orange, cherry... not for the shock, not for the hype but for the thrill.

Down in Derbyshire's Amber Valley, Pete Hounsell and his team have been keen to push themselves and the local beer scene further forward. Amber Ales established a great reputation at their brewery tap, The Talbot Taphouse, in Ripley and have since gone on to achieve national acclaim. Their Chocolate Orange Stout won the coveted CAMRA Champion Speciality Beer of Britain award in 2010 and their 'experiment-ales' such as Jasmine IPA and Almond Dark prove that Amber aren't ready to rest on their laurels.

Whether it's taking on a pub, brewing adventurous beer or hosting an IPA festival, Amber seem to relish the challenge.

Why try? Their refusal to compromise. Unusual brews but still with a keen balance.

What to look for? Barnes Wallace bitter, Imperial IPA and Chocolate Orange Stout.

Where to buy? Bottles and draught at the brewery or at their pub (the Talbot Taphouse) in Ripley, Derbyshire.

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It's hard to resist a good pub festival, particularly when it's at one of my favourite pubs on my regular Thursday night ramble. With a host of unusual beers on offer, the question was not how reluctantly I'd be scooping at the Smithfield in Derby but where to start?.

Regular readers known that I'm keen on keeping my figure in shape... and round is a good shape. I'm not one of these uber-thin ticker-types who live on railway station sarnies. So I filled up beforehand on a fantastically tasty Chinese at Yangtze in the Westfield centre; chilli chicken and chicken curry and, er, some other chicken was a clucking good combo to get your ribs sticky enough for severe imbibation. Suitably stuffed, a short walk downriver would land me at the festival. But it would have been downright rude not to stop off at my usual first-drinkie halt on a Thursday. The Royal Standard has made a name for itself with its combination of Derby Brewery Company brews, solid guest beers and cafe chic style. Happy as I am with Trev Harris' solid stuff, the guests are always a draw for me and choosing an Abbeydale beer over the likes of Wychwood was a no-brainer. If I'd engaged said brain, however, I'd have spotted and ordered the York Nelson Sauvin.

So, my plan for only one swift half had gone to cock already. Dear reader, I know you would never have forgiven me if I'd been stubbornly Reluctant and passed this one by. I knew it couldn't be as good as Thornbridge Kipling. Might it be as good as Alehouse's Sauvin So Good? Well, the York had a massive goose-gog aroma with more than a hint of dry nettles nestling in its fruity thicket. Sustained wincing fruit through the flavour, too, before a subtle creaminess calmed the party down. A damn fine beer, all the more so for being an unexpected bonus beer.

Scooping down at the Smithfield was, in truth, unusually un-Reluctant. I'd gone all old skool and compiled a hitlist culled from a Scoopgen post. With the outdoor festival bar not open when I arrived, I pitched up at my usual table in the bar by the jukebox and settled down with half of Oakham's Helter Skelter. It's beers like this that make the Smithy one of my Pubs To Love with plenty of hoppy stuff (the Whim and Headless brews on offer follow suit).

I won't write too much about the Smithfield here- it deserves a proper Pub To Love write-up in the near future - but suffice to say it's a cracking boozer. A recently reupholstered bar and lounge are served by a central bar bristling with handpumps. No festival stillage in either room, though, and the mini-marquees outside had plenty of trestles but nothing in the way of casks. So, where had landlord Roger Myring hidden his festival? Behind one of the downstairs gates, of course - a garage-type room built into the side of the pubs that was deep enough to take a forty-barrel stillage.

There was a fair crowd outside already by seven o'clock as Roger got the show on the road. First beer for me was Thornbridge Karnival, tried before at Peterborough festival bit I wanted a half-pint to savour. The latest beer in their Brewers Challenge, this is newest brewer Matt Clarke's entry. It still has that Thornbridge hop stamp albeit with a crepe sole rather than a steel-toecapped Doc Martin. That makes it a calmer and more contented brew compared to their usual output. Although you expect another hop kick, and in not getting it feel undersold, it's still an
almost assured beer with real self-restraint.

Next up were three beers that I'd eagerly awaited ever since seeing them on the list. Marble produce some darn fine beer; here in Derby, our wholefood shop Sound Bites are stockists of Marble bottles such as Lagonda IPA and their sublime Ginger. Here at the Smithfest, the brewer had three single-hop-varietal beers on offer. Sorachi Ace was very very pale, a wishy-washing-up liquid head with some juicy fruited hop oils prominent in the nose. Really creamy, too; the kind of soft hop that could glide a harsher one across a palate to good effect.

Their Mount Hood was fairly pale by comparison, with soft sherbet edges and a floral blush across the palate. The hops skip across a late aftertaste of lemon balm. But it was Brewers Gold that seized the day. Dark gold body, fresh floral perfume notes, blossoming hop oil on the end of your tongue and a hoppiness that never, ever stopped. This has the capacity to make its Crouch Vale counterpart seem amateurish by comparison.

A run of local beers would now do to see the night through. Headless 5 Gates was.... well, certainly not unpleasant, it just feels like a let-down in the afterwash of a few well-hopped beers. It's not too far removed from their usual output, rounded hops held up in a decent mid-citric body. In fact, it feels just a tad more more bolshy - dry hopped, perhaps? But there's some muddle here with the base beer not being allowed to shine.

Brunswick's Bellpair Vice was a groaner on two counts - a ruddy awful pun and the dread of another English Wheaty effort from the Brunnie. They do somethinga really well down there; White Feather, Father Mikes, beef & stilton baguettes.... but reet exotee brews laik vice? Most of the wheated oddities of theirs that I've tried have been not so much drain-pours but gutter watter. Remarkably, this stuff managed to keep on the right side of the fine line between wheaty sweetness and cloying yak. For most of the time. Best served cold and drank quickly.

Perhaps Amber could match the Bellpair's intentions and declare trumps with more of an edge to their offering. The brewer, Peter Hounsell, gives his beers straightforward names and likes to experiment with bold styles. This as least looked like a rugged wheat beer, with a murky honey coloured collar, but there was no esteryness nor any real wheaty bite coming through. Perhaps the temperature wasn't allowing these wheaty wonders to flourish?

Time for the night's last beer and an attempt to go out on a high. Well, a high ABV at any rate. The Headless Zymosis was brewed back in April and had maturing its way towards being a winter beer. Well, the weather of late has been decidedly parky, so no time like the present for cracking open a cask. Apart from a dulled deep amber body, nothing up front suggested its strength in depth, a fairly bland nose for a 7.5% warmer. Then thirty seconds later, the heat is on... that higher register warmth of spice followed by the reflux burn of candied Deep Heat. With your middle organs now coated, the palate anticipates the aggressive nature unfolding in the glass and replaces spiced fire with hop ire.

It's a Keyser Soze burn, though - a flickering flame, a darting burn along the damp boards til like that... it's gone. Until the next mouthful. My notes on the night compared the feeling to that of inhaling too deeply whilst changing the water in a fishtank. I still have no idea why I wrote that - especially as I haven't kept fish for over twenty years.

Outside it was dark now, the R&B band were in full funk and ordering beers was best achieved by holding up the requisite number of fingers corresponding to the number of the beer on the board. So, few takers for number 39, unless you roped a few others into helping you order it. Though it probably wasn't worth all that effort for a Church End special. I kept on with #1, Zymosis. Hard knock life, eh?

All in all, a good night with mainly decent beers. And *that* jukebox - The Who, Led Zep, Thin Lizzy, Issac Hayes, Suede, Placebo, Cream, Ian Dury, Madness, The Jam, The Clash... stopping scooping was a Reluctant choice, but there's only so much Zymosis a man can drink on a weekday.

A long day's recovery on Friday in front of a static spreadsheet and a regular supply of bacon cobs set me up for a return on the Saturday. Mrs H was tempted out to enjoy some cider and a few of the old faces were bound to drop by. Indeed, Cycling John dropped by (without the Claude Butler) and my erstwhile drum tutor, Andi 'the drummer in Endorphin Rush' Evans was already installed outside with his wife Julia and their rapidly-growing nipper, Emily.

I was in very Reluctant Scooping mode today - the emphasis was firmly on drinking with friends and taking things easy. There were, of course, several ticker tables - some of which were their usual over-zealous selves with bottling lines in full flow and spittled beards outshouting each other over contentious abv recollections.

The weather stayed fragrant enough to stay sat outside next to the bar. That meant the beers were knocked off in quick succession, with more Marble Brewers Gold being the first order of the day. Mrs H was in her element with a barrel of Three Cats medium sweet cider to yomp through. Away from the Marbles and Zymosis, today's beers were OK but not gobstopping - Great Gable Illgill IPA was fairly anonymous, Black Hole Milky Way not as biting as I remember it. The real standouts were from Hopshackle; although their Amber Smooth was fairly anonymous, the Double Momentum and Historic Ruby Mild was were huge beers. The mild in particular had a real edge to it, lactic smacks with very berry fruits catching your taste buds almost unawares.

Ever impressive was the food here - the Smithfield chip butty is a thing of legend and I was more than happy to reacquaint myself with the full-on dripping-butteryness experience. Mrs H's tuna melt looked disgustingly good, too, and Cycling John's sausage cob with onion rings in it looked - frankly wrong, but he assured me it tasted good ('edible skins.... makes all the difference' he assures me).

It's been a rambling write-up, but that was the nature of this fest. Some superlative beers, some threatening a vague promise and not delivering, top tunes, a smidgen of sunshine, good times all round. Roger and Penny do a top job here, it's an oasis of funtime drinking that brings a little of the laid-back country boozer feel into the city. Oakham, Whim, chip buttys, free jukebox. Pub fun? Done!
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It's a hard knock life, this reluctant scooping. Forsaking the scoopfest that is Reading beer festival was an easy decison; as fun as it is, the lure of a decent pub fest just a few fields away from home was enough for me.

And not just any old pub - the Royal Oak at Ockbrook is a gem of a place, a proper pub and one that will certainly feature in my Pubs To Love column at some stage soon. This was a fest with a difference for the Oak. Their usual offering is an autumnal affair, based on the brewers found in a single county. This was a special occasion, though, as landlady Olive Wilson was celebrating her 55th year in charge - that's right, fifty-five years as licencee. Her son-in-law, 'Smiling' Steve Hornbuckle does the hard work behind the bar and in the cellar nowadays and he sourced a range of beers from breweries based less than fifty-five miles away that are not normally featured at the pub.























With about a dozen beers on stillage and another three on handpump in the bar, I decided frequent visits should be the order of the day - er, of the weekend - to maximise my chances of being reaquainted with some great beers as well as reluctantly scoopiing a few new 'uns.
Cycling John and I trolled over to the Oak on the opening night (well, my wife Rebecca drove us over). Ensconced by the stillage, we set about the beers in no apparent order apart from ensuring we hit the Brampton beers first. I'd not had these too often until this year; John knows the Chesterfield area well and the brewer had become one of his firm favourite.

Brampton Golden Bud was top notch, as were Ashover Poet's Tipple and Holland Delph (good to see some great light beers coming from Kimberley). Whim Flower Power and Black Christmas were dangerously drinkable. And tonight I had several glasses of what was to become my beer of the fest; Wirksworth Cruckbeam, a superbly balanced bitter with a depth of flavour and finish that was missing from their earlier ventures.

With a fair few more people present, Steve gave us all a hearty welcome and introduced East Midlands CAMRA Regional Director Julian Tubbs who said a few words honouring Olive's work and the value of community pubs. More of the same beers as before were then imbibed, by which time Brampton Mild had come on. At which point, any vestige of scooping hope was lost; this mild is excellent and I was happy to keep supping it until my better half arrived to give us a lift home.

Back to the Oak on Saturday lunch, this time in a taxi so that Rebecca could avail herself of cider. Yes, we do cider in Derbyshire too - in this case, from only a few miles up the road at Morley. Three Cats is seen flying the flag for Derbyshire cider at a fair few festivals nowadays, an Eastern counties style cider made from cookers and eaters donated by locals.

Some of the usual suspects joined us today - John meeting Brian on the bus (yes; Brian on a bus). They both then spent a fair bit of time playing with their phones - Brian had given John one of his wife's old models and they were soon into full techno-mode.

Later in the afternoon, Rebecca's work colleague Susannah turned up with her beau in tow, Graeme. And he we all are (apart from John behind the lens) in smiling, drinking pose.
With most of the beers still on from Friday, I was happy to drink my way through more Brampton, Whim and Holland before being enticed into the bar for more than several pints of Thornbridge Jaywick on handpump. So, there was the rest of the afternoon gone - this is such an easy drinking, deliciously golden ale. And I've rarely been more grateful for a taxi ride home afterwards...

On Sunday I picked up one of my bikes from John and we didn't need much persuading to amble over to the Oak. The stillage was decidedly thin now, with emergency beers from Grafton and Derby Brewing Comapny called into action. Our saviour was Amber Ales Stout on in the bar, amazingly refreshing after the short but sweaty bike ride.

Certainly a fest of fun and one that's already given me an appetite for their main festival in October.

You can read more about Olive's story by following these links:

http://www.youandyesterday.co.uk/articles/The_Royal_Oak:_Pulling_pints_for_half_a_century

http://www.bbc.co.uk/derby/content/articles/2008/04/30/olive_wilson_royaloak_feature.shtml

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