Saturday afternoon at  Derby CAMRA's summer festival and standing room only has already been and gone. Splayed on the stairs, skulking behind pillars, sardined into the main hall... it's busy busy busy. But a thirsty toper can always conjure up some table space. In the quiet room, in a corner, opposite a ticker who seemed lost in the minutiae of his rapidly receding hit-list. My claim staked, my intentions simple: cheese and cider; dark beer and chocolate.

My sweet tooth is legendary - alongside my salty tongue, sour face and umami mouth - yet I prefer a cider or perry that's sandpaper-dessicated. I plump for the driest cider on the menu, Badger's Spit by Naish. After all, who wouldn't want to drink Badger's Spit? Lots of green apple tang, almost lemon-pithy on the tongue. I could see myself falling off a hay bale after a few of these.

A glass of cider always has me hankering after a good lump of cheese. Thankfully, Derby is one of the few festivals I've been to that has a decent cheesemonger on site. Morgan's is a stalwart of the city's Eagle Market and their ever-busy stall offers a great range of cheeses both British and continental. They've nailed their beerfest offering; a platter with a couple of cheeses, some crackers (or bread) and a dollop of red onion marmalade. 

With a dozen-ish cheeses on offer I chose two of my old favourites, an aged Red Leicester and Snowdonia Cheese's sublime Black Bomber. The latter has a creamy feel that belies its name, smooth for an extra mature cheddar but with a real depth to its flavour. If the Badger's Spit bites, then Black Bomber curls its lips and flashes its teeth at you. Put together, they get along famously. For the dry, slightly sweet and nutty Red Leicester I plumped for a perry. The Butford Organics was on the sweet side of medium for me, but its lemonesque flavour and low tannins kept it refreshing and palate-cleansing.

That was lunch. What to have for dessert? Dark beer and chocolate seemed blindingly obvious. And I do like the blindingly obvious. I'm a sucker for Fuller's London Porter and with the brewer having their own bar at the fest, the blindingly obvious option became even moreso. But what choc? Well, Burton-based Merry Berry Truffles had plenty to choose from. They are regulars at beerfests and aren't afraid to play with flavours. As their dark chocolate pieces with chilli and orange proves.

London Porter on cask reveals its ashy edges as casual charcoal marks your palate. The chocolate is more sleight-of-hand. Oily orange seeps when you hold a piece in your mouth, the slender slab collapses, a subtle chilli delivery system replaces citric tang with prickly heat. A mouthful of porter is an abrupt reset. orange to ashes, chilli heat to charcoal cool. And then do it all over again.

One last pairing? Go on then. Double Top Brewery have really impressed me recently and Tungsten Stout is no exception. With a robust body and a keen coffee roast about it, a handful of Merry Berry's chocolate covered coffee beans proved the perfect partner. Shards of beans and mocha echoes in the beer made for a great way to round out the session.

Well, almost. Fuller's Golden Pride had just come on - the only beer left on sale at their bar - so I just had to have a third. Or a half. Paired with... something caramel perhaps? Maybe spicy? In the end I went for the only viable option; pair it with another half pint of the same. Because, just sometimes, the best thing to pair with beer is another beer.

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Let's make this clear at the get-go. Jay Brooks' idea for this 'cheese-off' Session is a great one - everyone buys the same three cheeses and pairs them with different beers. Though as I couldn't get hold of the particular cheeses (US ones, natch) it made my participation in the Session seem moot. Ah, what the hell - I bought broadly similar styles to those suggested by Jay - soft goat's, aged Cheddar and a blue - and gave it a bash anyway.

Pairing #1: Fivemiletown Cooneen and Saison Cazeau.

A goat's cheese that doesn't taste of the farmyard, a saison that doesn't taste of the farmyard. There's a pairing full of win. Cooneen is delicate almost to the point of anonymity but it's all in the texture - the right side of creamy, still an eat-with-your-fingers cheese rather than one that ends up spread into the wallpaper. Cazeau has a smear of lemon, slight spice. The kind of saison that if you found it at a ramshackle bar halfway round a long yet lazy bike ride, you'd need a taxi to get you back to where you started. On a warm day, it's a beer you stop for. And keep stopping.

Pairing #2: Lincolnshire Poacher and Adnams Innovation

Cards on the table. Lincolnshire Poacher is my favourite hard cheese. It's a little bit nutty, a little bit sweet with a texture that's just-so. Two words describe it best: Lincolnshire Poacher. No point in describing it in terms of other cheeses. It is what it is. Adnams Innovation is one those IPAs that just keeps on giving; pungent wet earth, back-of-the-cupboard spices, sour-sweet citrics that haven't decided which way to fall. But when you cannonball the two - wowser. One eggs the other on, pummeling your taste buds before the other has finished with them. I've always had thicker, maltier beers with Poacher before - never again.

Pairing #3: Long Clawson Stilton with Brewdog Tactical Nuclear Penguin & Sink The Bismarck

My intention was to open up a sensible barley wine that had the balls to take on a full-flavoured Stilton. But I really didn't fancy a whole bottle of the ones I had. But lurking in the fridge, I had two pipettes. Looking like dodgy urine samples, they were actually the slightest snifters of two Brewdog heavyweights. Neither were great, to be honest. Tactical Nuclear Penguin had sherry-cardboard riven all the way through, Sink The Bismarck had an unusually satisfying sugar hit before an odd hop and ethanol burn. Thankfully, neither detracted from the Long Clawson - just creamy enough, just enough bite, a lingering sharpness.

Clear winner for me was the Lincolnshire Poacher with Adnams Innovation. More aged cheddery-stuff with IPA-esque beers will certainly be on my summer picnic agenda. >

There's a certain something about a beer festival in a converted cowshed. Especially one with chandeliers. Ale is only one of the draws to Melton Mowbray - chutney, cheese and pork pies feature highly on the hit-list. Throw in my first visit to an eco-pub and the chance to get my teeth into Comrade Brian's tomatoes and there's all the ingredients of a fest of fun.

An early arrival into Melton gave my the chance to stock up on necessary provisions. Knowing the others would bring at least one pie from Dickinson & Morris I decided to call into Thompson's on the Market Place to get one made by Bailey and Sons of Upper Broughton. Unusually for a pork pie, it's sold by weight rather than size. Then, plenty of cheeses from Melton Cheeseboard plus some chutney from Ye Olde Porkie Pieee Shoppee. Real ale chutney, of course.

A hearty breakfast was needed, so that gave me the veneer-thin excuse for visiting the town's Wetherspoons. The Kettleby Cross has strong eco credentials with a wind turbine, rainwater recycling and solar panels. An interesting looking building inside and out with plenty of glass in the sides, low slung ceilings with ruby red lighting and, away from the yummy-mummies coffee morning, a raised area at the back. This offered an eclectic mix of huge bookshelves hosting a flatscreen TV, carpet segueing to wooden boards and flagstones, an assortment of tables and chairs and an open log fire with sofas around it.

There was a good selection of local beers (Grainstore and Oldershaw); my Grainstore Steaming Billy was superb with clean fruits, thick collared head and liquid malts lined with tropical fruits. A fantastic farmhouse breakfast was eagerly devoured. The staff were always on the go, cleaning tables, shifting dirty crockery, jumping behind the bar if it was busy - a refreshing change from a number of JDWs that I visit.


As I was taking photos of St. Mary's church, I was hollered at by some grumpy old men. Cycling John and Comrade Brian had arrived with another old mucker in tow, Smiley Ray, who I hadn't seen since the winter festival at Burton. We all stopped off at the farmer's market (as thirsty men can never have enough pork pie and cheeses) and had a laugh around the 'antiques fair' looking for a chutney spoon. Which I don't think actually exists, but it kept us occupied until opening time. Though it has to be said, the antiques were more car-boot. In fact, they were more like something that an old labrador had deposited in the car boot. Indeed, I'd have called it an 'old-crap' sale, except that to do so would sully the good name of old crap.

Into the market shed, then. Melton Mowbray CAMRA had created an odd atmosphere. Punters just wandered in, eventually finding the stall on the far wall who took your money for tokens and a glass - with no full refund available on either. That bugged us all. As did the notices stating that 'only food bought here can be eaten here'. Our bags were bulging with the stuff and we'd never come across this edict at Melton before. We took up in a toper trap in the far corner - praying that the geriatric jazz band wouldn't pitch up close by like the year before - and prepared to eat our cheeses by stealth if necessary.

With no list available (another irritation) it required a wander up and down the line to find a starting beer. Hopshackle had been mightily impressive for me this year, so I didn't hesitate in taking a half of their Caskadia. It was a wonderfully light gold drop with floral aromas and flavours. So good, in fact, that I had to have another. The lager bar was my next port of call, Poachers Hare Repie was a little on the hazy side with a bit of overbite to it. A swift trip was made back to Hopshackle for their Historic Porter, which was much more flavoursome, a stout porter if ever there was one.

As we're into dark beer territory, it was time for the cheeses. The Ribblesdale Blue was a goat's cheese, not usually my kind of taste but this was just goaty enough and balanced out by a herby edge.
Lincolnshire Poacher was great, an old favourite, hard enough to take the real ale chutney. More Hopshackle beer was needed, their Historic Ruby Mild (one of my standout beers from the Smithfest earlier in the year) proving to be rugged and fruity enough to complement the cheeses perfectly. The Belvoir Oatmeal Stout felt a little thin by comparison; it still had some good deep bramble fruits and an oaty base but lacked the weight to make it a real hitter in this style. And it would have been rude not to knock off a pork pie at this stage, so our first D&M was unwrapped, given tomato eyes and then scoffed.


The Bailey and Sons pork pie then was soon dispatched too alongside the last of Brian's tomatoes. I preferred the firm crust of this to the D&M we'd had earlier. A Gorwydd Caerphilly was next, crumbling with just a hint of cream. Brewdog The Physics proved to a definitive bitter at this stage, its clean malty notes working well with the cheeses. The Hereford Hop, could have done with a sharper beer as a companion; creamy again with a sharp hop crack in the rind. Apple notes, lovely consistency as it crumbled into a biting, nipping finish

I couldn't now resist some Hopshackle Double Momentum, especially with all beers priced the same regardless of ABV. This seven per cent monster was a little hazy (and, to be fair, was marked as being such on the cask end) but it still had that raw warmth that built up across the palate. There was only really one cheese that we could finish on, Long Clawson Stilton. This was really, really creamy - almost off-puttingly so. Difficult to control, but the effort was rewarded by a real smack of feisty blue rot on your tongue.

I thought I'd round off the session with a perry or two - Two Trees Perry from Gwynt Y Draig did the trick with its intensely soft feel, tripping sweetness and hard sugar rush nose. So good I had another glass, much to the general mocking of my fellow topers.

No fest trip is complete without a swift half in a local pub. The Anne of Cleves looks good from the outside, is properly olde worlde on the inside and even better out in the beer garden. With the late afternoon sun warming the walls, under the shadow of the parish church, it's a garden where I could happily while away a few hours. I realised we were all drinking Brunswick White Feather, mu usual tipple when I return to the said brewpub back in Derby. The beer was considerably more expensive here yet, dare I say it, in better condition than the last few times I've tried it at source.

Overall impression, then. Well, it wasn't the most welcoming of festivals, given the restrictions on the glass/token return and the lack of a beer list ( until the poorly-typed rush job that arrived half way through). I know CAMRA festivals are essentially amateur productions but where's the good practice gleaned from other fests? To be fair, though, the beers were in decent condition overall and had a good balance of familiar local stuff and interesting choices from further afield. The Hopshackle beers were great with Historic Porter probably being my beer of the day.

For the sheer joy of a pork pie, cheese and chutney session inside a cowshed, it's worth the tortuous rail journey on a tin-can crammed with Stanstead passengers. The best fest trips have to be about more than just the beer - Melton delivered a memorable day in the way that only a busy little market town could manage.
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Wake up. Catch train. Go to beer festival. Drink beer. Drink cider. Eat pork pie. Catch train. Drink beer in Brunswick. Go to bed. To be honest, I'm getting bored of writing up fest trips. Would a visit to Tamworth be any different? Would there be something more imbibable than average British bitters? Would these gentlemen make it back to the rest home before curfew? Read on, dear toper.

To be honest, the day didn't get off to a great start. The new rail fares are anything but fair; the 20-minute Derby-Tamworth trip cost me more than the peak time fare to Brum used to only a few weeks ago. But this wasn't for any old festival; this was a Tamworth festival. New breweries. Church End specials. And the finest trio of food shops that I know of; Truckles for cheese, Claridge and Son for pork pies, Wood and Son for fish. Cycling John, Comrade Brian and I stocked up on cheese and porkies - we thought we'd not bother with DIY sushi - and set off in the rain for the Assembly Rooms.

Steady rain resulted in a wobbly line of wet tickers queuing for fest entry, which didn't bode well for the aroma later on. The eau de odour of certain tickers reaching reheat often puts me in mind of an incontinent Labrador. With Tamworth having a somewhat compact layout, as the rest of the line spawned left into the main room I bolted right to secure one of the few tables in the small but perfectly formed bar/dining area.


Pretty soon, we had a table full of pork pies (from Morris), cheeses (including the sublime Black Bomber from the Snowdonia Cheese Company) and Comrade Brian's home grown toms. The food was so enjoyable, it slowed down the purchase of beer. Amends were made with two rapid halves; Church End's Mocca Chocca Focca (fairly underwheling, some itchy chocolate faded into a thinning malt by the finish) and Beowulf Coffee Hazelnut Porter (needed a few minutes to warm when it revealed a superb creamy nuttiness).


I'm still experimenting with pork pie production and am having jelly problems. The stuff in the first pie was good - you could put a thumbprint into it and watch it spring back. My jelly is not so much runny as theoretical. Gives me the opportunity to stuff my face full of other people's pies; er, I mean conduct in-depth market research. All this pie malarkey was distracting me from the beer. The other chaps had sampled some damn fine looking light beers like Brown Cow IPA, but I decided to stay with the dark side. A Reluctant Scoop for me; though you can't come to this fest and not scoop a new brewery. Outstanding have been up and running for about six months and I'd yet to try anything from these Bury-based brewers.

I gave their stout a crack and, by gum, it was good. Fairly hoppy, deep malts balancing the flavour out, enough body to carry bold flavours into a satisfying mouthfeel. So good, in fact, that I decided to try their other beers on offer. Their Ginger beer had a fantastically agressive aroma, thinning a little on first taste but developing a slow spice burn as the beer warmed. There was an efficient cask cooling system here, perhaps a little too efficient as some flavours were chilled out on the pour and needed time to come up to temp and fully develop.

As we tucked into a majestic hand-raised pork pie, I went to complete the set of Outstanding beers with their Standing Out. Hazy gold with a thick citric lick, there was plenty of smacking hop oil squeezing out through the keen malts to deliver a real lipsmaker. Clearly the best trio of beers from a brewer new to me since those I had from Hopshackle. With the cheese demolished, pork pies reduced to crumbs and the toms all gone, it was time to shift through the gears and stretch those drinking trousers.

That last Outstanding beer had given me an IPA lust; Comrade Brian had been struggling to find light beers that were to his liking but he was able to point me towards the Woodlands Super IPA which certainly upped the bar with its punchy hop nose and fat wet fruity flavour. I sampled a couple of the chaps' beers as well; Great Heck Golden Fleece had a rather gluey feel with dusty hops and Brampton Aspire had an odd fruit flavour that no-one could put a name to. Back to the dark beers, then, with some heavyweights to round out the day.

Having loved their porter earlier on, I had high hopes for Beowulf's Strong Mild. At 7.4% I didn't expect it to be exactly mild. And so it goes. The faintest petrol spiral on the witch-tit flat, black to brown body. Christmas cake forced through an oil sump for an aroma. Fruits in the flavour not so much developing as rupturing under the concentration of alcohol steeped within. As it warms, a higher register aroma kicks in that Cycling John noted as that of cycle puncture fix solution. This was a massive, MASSIVE mild, it would take Sarah Hughes' Dark Ruby down the alley and paste it senseless.

As the picture above shows, Dave Unpronounceable had braved the nose-bleedingly giddy trek from Sheffield to serve beer darn sarf and gave his punters a warm Yorkshire welcome. My next beer had to be Bass. I mean Museum Brewery. Sorry, White Shield. Sod it, let's call it what it is - proper Bass beers, brewed by a proper brewer, albeit not for much longer, it seems. But what a choice to make; Bass Number 1 or P2 Imperial Stout? The complex barley wine or the intensely layered darker beer. Only one thing to do - buy both and mix them. Texting Mes to get his patented formula, perfected at Rail Ale earlier this year, a few reverential sips were taken from each glass before creating some kind of monster. I could play a round of beer bullshit bingo and take you through an un-necessarily overlong description of the effect, but John said it all after one long slurp; "My goodness!!". I then inflicted Brewdog Tokyo onto my rapidly-fading tastebuds. I'm convinced I was drinking alcoholic soy sauce. A Japanese chain smoker had expectorated into my glass. Did I love the sticky tar-laden smoke-fest? Do bears practice Catholicism?

With no way of improving on these last beers, it was time to Reluctantly leave the fest. And, er, go to the pub. The Globe was an impressive looking building with lots of 1980s brasswork and crass carpets. And Worthington cask. And something that must have been palatable, as I definitely had half a something from a handpump. But, in my post-Tokyo state, anonymous brown bittery stuff was literally pale by comparison.

So why did we stop in the Albert for a drink as well? I've always had nothing but below-average beer in here, it's never going to have a beer the equal of anything at the festival. But, every year, like a dog returning to vomit, we stop for a drink here. At least it allowed me to a) go for a huge crap, b) eat the chicken sarnie I bought earlier and c) water the plastic hedge with whatever fudge-like bland crap it was that Comrade Brian bought me.

And what's with plastic hedges? Are they wash wipe? I ruddy well hope so, the amount of crap beer that must get poured on them. Is it modular? Do you slot in seasonal varieties - holly for winter, hawthorn to prevent gatecrashers? Or is it part of a gigantic oversized Playmobil set? Is there some eight foot tall freak queuing for the BBQ in the rear beer garden with a crash helmet hairdo, poor fashion sense and no genitals?

Off to the train, then, and some light relief. The upside of the pricey 'peaktime' tickets was that the Cross Country service wasn't stuffed to the gunnels with shrieking PAs and unemployable students. Comrade Brian treated us to a grand precis of left wing political theory (I think) and Cycling John nodded in all the right places. Though I preferred Brian's excellent Tommy Cooper impersonation. At least, I think it was the Coopermeister - I had nodded off five minutes before.

Back into Derby in good time, then, for our Survivors Club pint in the Brunswick. A White Feather is always welcome, even at the end of the beeriest day. Mind you, I was so tired by this point that my photos turned black and white. But it had been a cracking day - top nosh, great range of beer, high quality, excellent Reluctant Scoops and some enjoyable old faves. A couple of dire pubs, mind you, but overall it was a day that reminded me that some CAMRA fests are worth drinking at and are fun to write about after all. >