Not been working on the site much recently. So here's a gentle segue back into the swing of things - a twenty-questions-thingy that I picked up over on the beermerchants blog.

my perfect day would begin with…

warm sun flooding through the window, the sound of birdsong and/or breaking waves, the aroma of frying bacon and freshly brewed coffee and the contentment that comes from knowing you have a day where you can do as you please.

the most beautiful beer region I’ve visited is…

Derbyshire. Rolling fields, limestone valleys and misty moors all studded with microbreweries.

if I wasn’t into beer I’d be a…

sadder but thinner person

the last bottle of beer I drank (not just tasted) was…

Lost Abbey Judgment Day

my favourite beer hangouts is/are…

the cellar bar of the Flowerpot, Derby, on a Sunday afternoon (hot beef and mushroom cob, several pints of Headless, the papers and an occasional blast of Pearl Jam)

the garden of the Royal Oak, Ockbrook, after a bracing walk (steaming boots, good Derbyshire beer and a Stilton cob)

anywhere in the Valley of Beer, Sheffield, when I fancy a change of scenery and a bit of banter

my cellar is mostly composed of…

dusty bottles of Rogue, shelves of Thornbridge barrel-aged, assorted Brewdogs and half-empty selection boxes from beermerchants.com

if you were coming for dinner I’d cook…

beef stew in winter, crab salad in summer

and to drink with it I would serve…

Thornbridge Ashford or Westmalle Dubbel / Thornbridge Kipling or Sierra Nevada IPA

and other dinner party guests would be…

whoever wanted to share a drink and a laugh with us

my biggest blind-tasting faux pas was…

almost vomiting my first-ever gueuze over the host

the blind-tasting moment I would prefer to concentrate on was…

the unalloyed joy of Cantillon

one thing that might surprise you about me is…

I used to be a facepainter

if I was a brewer, I’d make my beer in…

small batches, with love

other than beer, I have a secret passion for…

writing on the sole of my slipper with a Biro on a Saturday night instead of going to the pub.

my favourite holiday destination is…

North Norfolk. I drop down through the mental gears on arrival and stay in a state of merry sedation for the duration. Great seafood, great beers, cheerful people.

I think beer is great because…

"the only reason is just because"

the best movie or TV show of all time is…

Quick Change.

in summer in the garden I’d drink…

Thornbridge Kipling. Or Jaipur. And, hopefully, this summer, it'll be bottle conditioned.

my favourite piece of music would have to be…

Mahler's Ninth Symphony

my best bottle of beer ever was probably…

Thornbridge Saint Petersburg Whisky Reserve Islay Cask

I am currently (craving) drinking…

even more Jaipur


And if you fancy twenty really beery questions, give this a go.

The cartoon btw is by Leslie Illingworth, © Atlantic Syndication Partners and can be found alongside more of his work at the National Library of Wales website >

I should have spent the day sorting out the Scoopies awards, but instead I decided to plough through 500 emails and then slice my hand open on the fractured neck of a bottle of fizzy stuff. So, with the blood swabbed from the laptop and a beer needed to ease my beating heart, it must be time to uncork Lost Abbey's Gift Of The Magi.


Let's dispense with my dearest darling's words of wisdom first. "It's not like potpourri" proved to be a stunningly accurate impression of the aroma, although the bulldog-licking-piss-off-a-nettle face followed by "it tastes better after a slurp of Coca Cola" doesn't somehow sum up the complexity that you feel Tomme Arthur intends with this beer.

It pours an interesting burnt orange body, with a spongy off-cream head folding like a cheap hooker who got punched in the stomach. Yes, Joey, that's the way I play poker too. There's orange peel, there's cinnamon (fair play to Mrs Reluctant, that was her first impression) but there's also an sourness (in a healthy, Belgian way) and a fair amount of Brettyness.

I had wondered about laying this down for next year - every other sip says I should have done (lose the sharpness, mellow the brett). Yet every other other sip says GREEN LIGHT GO for the fresh spice feel, raw lemon, more funk than a drummer strung out on Bolivian marching powder.

There's warmed turned earth, yesterday's pissy straw, liquid bread.... it's fun to drink but just a little, ahem, challenging on the palate. Truth be told, there are times when it feels like it's sticking in my clack a bit. Was that warm licorice? A cruel and unusual spice that's been recently relieved all over?

Having consulted the back bottle label, I now, like, totally get the Magi reference - gold beer made with some frankincense and myrrh. Yeh, the Frankenstein and Grrrr are clearly evident - WTF? I particularly liked the ratebeer review that said "I really need to smell Frankincense and Myrrh again to figure out what they are contributing here". Hint; if you've just written down seven different aromas and flavours and you're still left with something you still can't quite put your finger on, I wouldn't worry much about it. Like beeswax on an old oak table, I figure those Yemen resins are there to lift the beer to a higher plain, not to define its soul.

It's enjoyable, just not as enjoyable as I'd hoped. Rather like suffering Sunday school to join the Thursday night youth club only to find the snooker table was only half size. Yet there's a certain joy in continually topping up the glass, refunking the beer, blossoming the head, loosing an aroma that switches from fresh to dirty faster than a convent girl with a late pass.

I started off intrigued, became disillusioned and now have grudging admiration for certain aspects of its outlook. Insert your own religious allegory here.

Thanks to beermerchants.com for the beer
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