Last Friday I turned forty-smuffummuhhhh and was lucky enough to spend the day being driven around Derbyshire by Mrs Scoop in George, our little blue beer taxi. Early doors at Thornbridge to pick up a case of Tzara, their kolsch-ish beer that continues the lagery experimentations of Italia and Steelmaker.

Monsal Head saw the sun shine. And no tourists. Not surprising - it was November and chuffing freezing. But there was a bonus - the hotel's Stable bar was open for a cheeky pint of Buxton Moor Top. Paler than maiden's water with just enough pithy grapefruit for an almost-breakfast beer.

Luncheon was taken at the Packhorse Inn at Little Longstone. An open fire belching smoke across the bar every time the kitchen door opened and drew a breeze through the room. Lashings of Thornbridge Jaipur. And wild boar sausage - fattened on the Thornbridge estate just down the road from the pub.

A mad dash to Buxton Brewery to finally meet up with the owner, Geoff Quinn, and a quick looksie at how the place is developing at a rapid rate of knots. And then... an afternoon and evening that segued into major beerage. You know that feeling when you put good beer in the hands of good people and they do the double-take? When they have the 'ohh-whoh!" moment and you know you've just won another brother over to the cause of Drinking Great Beer? That :-)

I don't think my recycle bin has ever looked finer...

Many thanks to Summer Wine and Magic Rock for their superb beers and speedy delivery. And mucho thanko to Alex from Thornbridge, Geoff & JK from Buxton and Nate & Evin from The Kernel for their kind gifts that kept the party well-lubricated. >

"If I were to offer you either tea or mild ale at this moment, which would you take?"

"Generally, I should say tea," said the poet; " but after my labours of this morning, which have made me nervous, it would be better for me to take mild ale." She gave him a shilling, and pointed to a jug. He disappeared, and presently returned with a comfortable head of foam upon the vessel. She noticed, with a quiet smile, that he neglected to give her back the change. It was a forgetful way he had.

"It was providential," he said, " quite providential, that I did not get up when I woke up first. At the very best it would have been tea and bread-and-butter with Mrs. Medlar, and now it's been sausages and beer."

from 'With Harp And Crown', Sir Walter Besant, 1875


A couple of weeks ago, Brooklyn brewmaster Garrett Oliver told me that there was no beer that couldn't be matched with sausages. Tonight, I'm proving him right by pairing Buxton High Tor (dry hopped special with Chinook and Columbus) with butchers-thumb-fat Lincolnshire porkers, stuffed with sage and served dead cold after a good baking earlier.

Seeing as how Derbyshire knocks out a great line in speciality sausage - wild boar, lamb and mint, chili and chocolate - I'm going to put Garrett's maxim to the test over the next couple of months. Gueuze that cuts through pork fat? Sounds like a challenge to be relished... >

Once upon a time, in a blog not too far away, Mark Dredge came up with the term FABPOW when writing about his food and beer pairing of the week. So it must be time for me to shamelessly appropriate - I mean, pay homage - to the term.

For this pairing, you will need:

- one bottle of Buxton Black Rocks
- two tins of Heinz Alphabetti
- four slices of bread (Warburton's Crusty preferable)

Warm Alphabetti. Toast two slices of bread. Pour Alphabetti onto toast. Pour Black Rocks into pint glass.

Serve.

Then, if you have far too much time on your hands, open the other tin of Alphabetti into a dish whilst toasting the other two slices of bread. Sort letters. Think about how good the food and beer pairing was. And say it with spaghetti-on-toast;

Calculate the total scores for looks, aroma and taste:

Find one-word to summarise

And be honest with how you feel about the term Black IPA:

Buxton Black Rocks is a great beer. Huge grapefruit nose, a kind of Black Jack chew flavour - in fact, if you're of a certain generation, try to remember what is what like to chew a Black Jack and a Fruit Salad at the same time. That gets you close to what's going on with Black Rocks. No roasty, big fruity. Is it a Thornbridge Raven-beater? For sure. Dude. >

There's a certain something about a CAMRA beer festival. The best of beer, the worst of beer. Venues that make you feel welcome, well-cellared beer, interesting food. Or municipal shit-holes, staff with body odour, rank ale, stale sarnies.

When one of your tried and trusted local fests shifts venue, you've got to give it a go. Truth be told, there can't be many members sad to see the Derby Winter festival move out of the Darwin Suite in the Assembly Rooms. A titchy venue, beers appearing at random due to lack of bar space, almost zero seating. This year; new broom, new room - and, boy, what a room.

The Roundhouse defies photography. Well, that's my excuse. It used to be a loco shed; it's now where college students get parked during term-time as a common room. It's large. It's round. Get the picture? No? Tough. I could show you pics like this:or this:

or even this:


... but I don't think they're fair representations.

In summary: great beer on the Friday, some of which alcofrolicchap poured over other people. Great beer and cheese on the Saturday; most of the beer being totally random replacements as almost all of the advertised beer had run out on Friday. When the random beer comprises the likes of Liverpool Organic Kitty Wilkinson (proper chocolate & vanilla) and Brewdog 5am Saint (stupendously-Nelson-Sauvin-ed amber ale), then I'm a happy camper.

But this was supposed to be about IPAs. There were several, but there's no point in discussing all of them. There was only one worth talking about.

Buxton Axe Edge.

For, once upon a time, a brewer called James Kemp did move to Buxton and did wonderful things. In particular, he dumped a shed-load of Amarillo, Citra and Nelson Sauvin into Axe Edge. And, lo, amongst the topers of Derbyshire there was much rejoicing.

There are two schools of though about beer-festival drinking. One is that you should start at low ABV and work your way northward. The other says you should start on the beer you really want to drink, regardless of strength, because you never know how long it'll be on for.

Which is why I drank Buxton Axe Edge like a loon on the Friday. And, amazingly, on the Saturday as well - albeit for just three blissful halves.

So; props to Geoff and JK at Buxton. And to Ralf for putting on a Derby Winter fest in a superb venue, albeit the only one I've known where the queue for the gents was longer than the queue for the ladies by a factor of 30 to none. And to the various drunkards I spent time with. And to my wife, who did what she had to do to ensure no-one else got to drink as much Oliver's Medium Perry as her. And to Morgan's of the Eagle Market, Derby, for the best cheese platter ever seen at a beer fest.

Today's Obviously Made Up Fact About IPA:

Hodgson invented IPA in 1744 when he had a dream about exporting a pale ale.
Sadly, he forgot the dream and had to wait many years for severe déjà vu to take hold
before he could recapture the recipe.



Thanks to Richard Mackney for letting me steal that first photo >