Perhaps it's a Manchester thing. What you see is what you get. No airs, graces, pretentions. Marble take the guesswork out of buying beer: Manchester Bitter. Stouter Stout. Chocolate. Ginger. Pint.

Brewing began in a back room of the Grade-2 listed Marble Arch pub in 1998; increased demand led to a second plant opening up underneath the nearby railway arches in 2009. Along the way, successive brewers have found inspiration to brew beyond the ordinary English fayre. Chocolate Dubbel, Decandence Kriek and Special Barley Wine are all indicators of Marble's experimental edge.

Why try? They don't re-invent beer; they strip it down to its bare bones and rebuild it. When some styles have all too often gone awry with malt changes and odd hopping, Marble get back to basics and brew assertive beer really well.

What to look for? Either the eminantly sessionable 3.9 or Pint. If you're in Marble Arch and they are serving Dobber, try it without the sparkler. You won't get punched in the face for suggesting it. Honest.

Where to buy? Marble Arch, 73 Rochdale Road - possibly the finest brewery tap I've ever visited. Marble's bar at 57 Thomas Street also stocks cask. Bottles can be bought online from myBrewerytap.

>

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. >

How many times do you hear brewers being criticised for all their beer tasting the same? Is that really criticism at all? Or is it an indication of consistency?

It's quite possible that the Little Ale Cart brewery, a one-barrel plant shoehorned into the back of the Wellington pub in Sheffield, do brew some dark beers. It's possible that pixies ballet dance along the bar as well. Never mind the conjecture, let's establish the facts: the names on the clips seemingly change every day but the story stays the same; pale beer, well-hopped, well brewed.

In a city that's awash with great beer in general and pale ale in particular, it takes something special to recommend one pub and its wares. Others try to vary their line-up; Little Ale Cart sticks with the knitting and delivers definitive pale and hoppy beer over and over again.

Why try? If you like pale and hoppy, they brew superlative pale and hoppy. Like you need reminding.

What to look for? Whatever the pale, hoppy ones are called when you visit. Probably some kind of locomotive.

Where to buy? The Wellington, Henry Street, Shalesmoor, Sheffield. Next to the Shalesmoor tram stop. Beer brewed on the premises. >

With eleven days off work, I thought about getting out to enjoy a beer or three. Here's what I ended up doing:

Went to a small pub festival and drank excellent guests (Whim Armadillo, Dark Star APA) and some of Amber Ales' finest (Black IPA, Saison).

Drank IPA whilst reading about the history of IPA.

Sought out a pub that had been highly recommended to me - the Five Lamps in Derby - with great atmosphere, great Buxton beer and stupendously good wild boar sausages.

Visited Thornbridge and Buxton breweries to chew the fat with the brewers. Swapped gossip and discovered the wonder of ATP bioluminescence.

Took the long and winding Penistone line to Huddersfield so I could drink in the Grove: beers from Stone, Mikkeller, Brewdog, Cantillon, De Molen and more.

Literally lent a hand to the Marble brewery in Manchester and caged nearly seven hundred bottles of beer with them. And then enjoyed the beery delights on offer around the city at Marble Arch, 57 Thomas Street, Common and Port Street Beer House.

Wandered over to my local in the next village for their beer fest; Thornbridge beers, crusty pork pies and too much sun for my pasty skin.

Had a lazy walk along a lazy river and then sat high in the stands watching Derbyshire smear Sussex all around the Racecourse ground. And drank cold cans of Brewdog Punk IPA.

Drank up some of the last pints at my local's festival, made beer cocktails and opened up some random international bottles from Moa, Braufactum, Kiuchi and Deschutes.

... and all in the company of friends old and new.


Why did I do it?

Because I love beery places. I love beery people.

Because I love beer. >

As regular readers of this deranged stream-of-consciousness will know, I don't hold much store in keeping beer back. Yes, I do age some bottles. Yes, most of those taste better for it. But the trap of buying great beer only to save it for a great occasion is one that's coated in infection, cardboard and general disappointment. I've seen grown men weep at the taste of Westvleteren that, rather than being The Finest Beer Known To Humanity, tuned out to be the ass-water of a diarrhoetic camel.

In short, Drink 'Em Like You Stole Them.

Or in this case, drink 'em like you paid not-a-lot for them-and-you-were-so-bejazzled-you-can't-really-remember-what-you-bought-and-forgot-where-you-put-them-after-so-you-may-as-well-drink-them-now-you've-found-them.

From the most random takeaway-bottle-bar in the world, the Brewing International Industry Awards in Burton, I bring you (in no more than three words):

Moa Pale Ale (New Zealand). Clean, lemon, schmemley.

BraufactuM Progusta (Germany). Herbal, caramel, Stoppemfromfloppen

Kiuchi Hitachino Nest Nipponia (Japan). Moudlyorange. NOT coconut.

Deschutes Jubel 2010 (USA). Nuts. Sugar. Contrafibularities.

Well, that was fun. More fun than catching your vitals in moving gears, less fun than landing jam-side up in a bucket of jam-coated strippers. But that's beer, people. Never boring, never predictable, always beer...


Tonight's ramblings were brought to you by the letters D and P. >

One of my culinary regrets is that I've still never eaten at Rowley's. It's just at the wrong end of Derbyshire for us, we think of lunching there but leave it too late. So I've never made it either to one of their Thornbridge evenings; each course cooked with and served with Thornbridge beers. I know, I'm so amateurish at times...

One thing I have tried, however, is a recipe concocted by their general manager, Alistair Myers. As part of their 2009 Thornbridge evening, he mixed up a Jaipur mojito which I enthusiastically set about ham-fistedly recreating. When I saw Thornbridge's Simon Webster tweeting from this year's event, I was eager to find out what cocktail was on offer. Reader, there was none. And so a challenge was born.

First thoughts were for something dark: rum, spices, the natural sweet honey of Bracia. Or maybe really souring up a Saint Petersberg with lemon and cherry. But the weather on the last few days has made me dreamy for crushed ice and citrics. So, an aromatic cocktail where I could replace soda water for something. Easy. Had to be gin, had to be punchy. Had to be with Thornbridge Italia.

I'm been unsure about the beer before. But because I found it so aromatic and herbal, that's why I turned to it first when thinking cocktails. It begins to mirror gin. And there are few finer gin cocktails than a Major Bailey.

To be honest, it's a cocktail to make when you can't be arsed to make cocktails. Ice and mint leaves into a shaker. Bruise up the mint. Add a smidgen of lime juice, same with lemon juice, pinch of sugar and a shitload of gin. Shake and strain into a tall glass full of crushed ice. Top with soda water if you're feeling weak or top with more liquor if you're feeling in a WTF mood.

So, it's as simple as falling off a pub bench to promote the Major to its logical conclusion: make the cocktail, pour into a taller glass, top off with beer. Thornbridge Italia does the job handsomely, in-built aromatics and citrics play with the cocktail's herbal bitterness.

Beer is wonderful. For anyone who's still struggling with just how broad the range of flavours and aromas can be, don't think beer = water + malt + hops + yhttp://www2.blogger.com/img/blank.gifeast. That's like saying food = grain + spice. For anyone who's struggling with the idea of using beer in drinks or in food, think: beer doesn't have to be the final destination. Even if the brewer didn't foresee a stop beyond what arrived in the bottle.

For some people, mixing beers is anathema. Putting beer in food is poncey. Putting beer with spirits gets the pub burned down. The sun's out: kick loose, fart about, get it wrong, get it wrong again. When you get it right, you'll treasure the moment. It's only beer and herbs and spirits. It could all go wrong. And it can all go deliciously right.

This one's for thornbridgesi and is named in honour of the Birrifico Italiano brewer, Maurizio Folli, who came over to brew Italia with the Thornbridge mob. Recipe on request. I'm available as a cocktail shaker for quintuplet's christenings, 99th birthdays and big fat gipsy's bar-mitzvahs. >

For years, I was at the head of the queue. Spare government-stamped, half-pint-lined glass. Notes with target beers highlighted in different colours according to new brewery / new beer status. Last-minute gen on no-shows and no-drops scribbled as marginalia.

And then I tuned in, dropped out, stopped giving two shits about beer festivals and really enjoyed myself.

The last day of the fest was for losers. If you wanted the beers, you moved hell and high water to be there at the start. Last days were random; all the good beers supped, the slow-sellers and late-replacements littering the stillage.

What the last day is really about, what a festival in its death throes actually delivers, is a challenge. Bust the fest out. Take down those last straggling casks. And, just maybe, find a beer that surprises you along the way.

My local, the Royal Oak at Ockbrook, has been running a fest since half-past nine on Friday morning. Full cooked breakfasts, royal wedding coverage and 30+ beers. The pale and hoppy ones sold out quickly. The Thornbridge duo, Chiron and Colorado Red, sold fast despite their >5% abv. The Three Cats cider, first of this year's batch, sold out by 2pm on Friday.

So, what's going to be left by Bank Holiday Monday? Not a lot. Derby Brewing's 'I Do' sludged its way to an end. Cottage 'Celebration' held on valiantly for another half hour. Last cask standing was Slater's 'Roy Ale' - a brewery I've never been fussed with but this offered a fair old fruity snatch.

And like that, it was gone. Glasses moved up into the loft until the autumn festival. The stillage deconstructed to make way for the next event in the function room. Still plenty of good beer on the bar, though, to take outside and watch lumpy butterflies fall into walls. Rooster's Leghorn - good. Falstaff John Dillinger, first mild of May for me, even better.

I can understand how some people get annoyed on the last day of a fest. When they've travelled far. When the beer they expected to be on has gone. But, let's be honest. These people are arseholes. There are no guarantees in life. At a beerfest, hope for well-kept beer and revel in it when you get it. The Butcombe Stout may have busted out, but that last cask which you didn't give a first glance to may just be suprisingly good. >

I've only met Evin O'Riordain of The Kernel Brewery once. I didn't ask him if he started out with a master plan like this:

Open brewery on London. Buck the trend by bottling most of the output. Have said bottles sold in the best beer bars and retail stores across the capital. Brew classic styles with a contemporary twist. Win the hearts of beer enthusiasts, win awards at industry competitions. All within eighteen months of opening.

But that's what he's done. And, in the process, he's become one of the drivers behind the revolution of the capital's beer scene. Keen to collaborate, eager to innovate, passionate about re-invention of classics. Kernel aren't so much ripping up the rule book, they're writing their own.


Why try? Perfectly bottled live beer in styles that have a depth and breadth of flavour.

What to look for? IPAs such as S.C.C.A.N.S or their award-winning Export Stout

Where to buy? Direct from the brewery or from various bars/shops in London as mentioned here >

When I first holidayed in Norfolk, I had straightforward expectations of the beer I'd find; classic English bitter. Adnams and Woodforde's sold plenty of it, I drank plenty of it. But some days, particularly the blistering hot ones, my palate wanted a little more zing. That's when I realised that beery happiness is egg-shaped.

Reedham may seem to be a sleepy village on the Norfolk Broads but Humpty Dumpty have been busily brewing there since 1998. Something that Stephen George, Craig Fermoy and the team have really nailed is a host of great quenchers - perfect for the end of long meandering Norfolk walks whether you're on the coast, on the Broads or tramping round Norwich on the tourist trails.

And they're Norfolk and proud of it. Their Maris Otter malt is from Teddy Maufe's famed Branthill Farm. They brewed an IPA in support of the Wherryman's Way long-distance footpath. They work the farmer's markets, they have a bar at the Royal Norfolk Show, they are fervent supporters of the village's beer festival. They may just be the hardest working brewery in Norfolk...

Why try? The lighter-ABV beers are thirst-slaking; the stronger stuff is proper 'feet-up-at-the-end-of-the-day' beery enjoyment.

What to look for? Those quenchers I first found, Little Sharpie and Lemon & Ginger.

Where to buy? Norfolk. Humpty Dumpty have a brewery shop on-site, the Real Ale Shop at Branthill Farm and Beers Of Europe stock their bottles, the Lord Nelson at Reedham always has a cask of theirs on. Then there's the farmer's markets at Aylsham and Beccles. And you may find some at the Berney Arms Inn - a pub you can't drive to but can walk, sail or take the train to. You'll be glad of a pint when you get there... >

Some brewers demand the centre-of attention, illuminated by the faces of smiling acolytes. Some brewers just get on with the job of brewing great beer. Nigel Wright is firmly in the latter category.

You get the feeling that if Nigel plied his trade in a city rather than Market Deeping, his beers would literally be on the lips of many more drinkers. But he seems content to meet the demands of the local market whilst venturing forward with wider distribution for his bottled beer.

Hopshackle get on and do what some brewers just dream about; re-invigorating classic styles whilst still forging ahead with hop-forward experiments. American-style ales, historic porters, robust bitters, single-hopped IPAs... no edgy marketing, no Twitter hype, just well-made, tasty beer.

Why try? Not afraid to experiment whilst paying absolute attention to quality.

What to look for? The Historic Porter is a complex mix of roasted notes, tart fruit and liqorice licks. For a hoppier hit, Resination takes on the Americans at their own game and offers intense bitterness tempered by floral, herby flavours.

Where to buy? Cask may prove elusive outside of the South Lincolnshire area. Bottles can be bought, including an excellent mixed case from Ales By Mail. >

I can almost here the naysayers out there now. "But.... FULLER'S? They're a... a... BIG BREWER! IN LONDON". Well...Big Fat Deal.

One of my locals, the Royal Oak in Ockbrook, often has Fuller's beer as a guest. And we're about a hundred miles away from the brewery. In that bit between the M25 and M62 that is neither Darn Sarf or Oop Norf. And still the London Pride tastes fermenter-fresh. Head brewer John Keeling even came along one weekday evening for a two-hour 'Meet The Brewer' session. I applaud that commitment. Some of our local brewers wouldn't cross the road to go and talk to their customers.

It's easy for some beer 'lovers' to cock a snoot at breweries larger than a bathtub. I tend to concentrate on beer quality - after all, isn't good beer is where you find it? I like London Pride, I love ESB and I could quite happily drink London Porter until my extremities dropped off.

At Nottingham CAMRA Festival last year I stood drinking the cask Porter cask until my legs almost quit. I've spent happy afternoons in the Churchill Arms, Kensington, London, supping keg Porter as life's rich tapestry of clueless tourists and avuncular locals unravelled before me. I've stood outside the Artillery Arms, on the fringe of the City, loving Discovery with rogues and traders (not mutually exclusive). Great pubs, with great mates; great times enhanced exponentially by great beers.

Fuller's is the taste of London, wherever you happen to be drinking it.

Why try? To remind you that brewers of size can still brew tasty beer.

What to look for? Style-defining ESB and the gorgeous-however-it's-dispensed London Porter.

Where to buy? Bottles in major supermarkets, countless pubs across London and the south and one of my favourite haunts, the Old Joint Stock in Birmingham. >

You may have a lawn the size of a paddock or a postage stamp. You may edge with sharp shears or a clumsily-wielded strimmer. You may ride upon your mower or push the recalcitrant bastard up and down a slope that makes Carolina Cherry seem like a bowling green.

And you may ask yourself: why do I love mowing?
And you will tell yourself: lawnmower beer.

Sticky grass still on your fingers. The sun fading over next door's fence. And a cold beer straight from the fridge, probably not making it as far as a glass before you guzzle three greedy gulps. And then, sigh. Beery contentment.

This year's lawnmower be for me is Brewdog Punk IPA. Yes, it ain't what it used to be and it ain't as bitter and it's alcoholic Um Bongo blah blah meh. I know all those things. I've said all those things.

And I don't care.

In the way that when I spot a clump of stubborn grass that's sprung back up in the lawn's far corner, I don't jump up to scythe it down. It lives to be mown another day. >

Some breweries make their name on the strength of two beers - one light, one dark - that become a toper's turn-to whatever the time of year. Others achieve it by a depth and breath borne of imagination, experimentation and collaboration. It took me a few years to realise, but Dark Star have made their name both ways.

Their Sussex goodies used to escape rarely into my Midlands drinking heartland. When - if - they did, it was one of two brews; Hophead or Espresso. And on finding them I would drink deep and long. For they were the fruitiest sub-four-percenter and the most-rounded-choc-and-coffee beers that I could drink. And you know what? They're still the best golden ale and coffee stout on offer, on cask, in the UK.

And there's more. Perhaps it's the pubs that now offer a wider range, perhaps I'm now drinking in better pubs, but the seasonal and special Dark Star beers are becoming a common site round our way. And what beers they are - none of your dodgy re-tweaked seasonals here but styles old, new and re-interpreted; saison, smoked porter, Mai bock, green-hopped IPA. Add in collaboration ales with the likes of Thornbridge and Kernel and it's clear that Dark Star are at the zenith of the contemporary English brewing scene.

Their new website is kick-ass too. And their clothing range is stuff that you may actually want to wear. Even me. Brown hoodie in extra large, please, if anyone's feeling generous.

Why try? The regular beers redefine 'regular beer' and the specials are, er, special.

What to look for? Hophead, Espresso Stout, Summer Meltdown

Where to buy? Consult their beerfinder; not only where they've delivered to but what beers and how many barrels. An outstanding innovation. And there's always the Evening Star in Brighton, birthplace of the brewery in 2001, which I will finally get to visit this year. Honest. >

Leicester is afforded special status in the Reluctant Scooping scheme of topering. It's where I drank my first doppelbock. My first Dogfish Head. It always offered a heady mix of ye olde traditional pubs and somewhat-leftfield bars. But it's been a couple of years since I was last in town. Does Leicester still love its beer? There was only one way to find out...

The Pub

Casks on offer: 12-ish
Potential scoops: 6-ish
Keg beer on offer: 12-ish?
Potential scoops: 2
Scoops drank: 0
Favourites drank: 1 (Brewdog 77, two pints)

Yes. It really is called The Pub. Before the owners moved across New Walk, their former bar (Out Of The Vaults / Vin IV) often served two beauties by Beowulf - Finn's Hall Porter and Dragon Smoke Stout. They're the beers I'd have plumped for if my eye had been on cask. But I didn't even look at the handpulls. Instead, I fancied something cool and just-so-carbonated as a thirst slaker on this sunny Sunday. Brewdog 77 lager hit the spot. So much so that when alcofrolicchap turned up, I had another pint of it.

The Pub is one of those long, narrow bars that looks and feels cool in an almost-trying-too-hard kind of way. I was content to go sit out in the sun, drink lager and watch the world amble by. I'll revisit their cask offering one day.


The Globe

Casks on offer: 4. Possibly.
Potential scoops: 1
Actual scoops: 0
Favorites drank: 1 (Everards Sunchaser, one pint)

I've always enjoyed visiting this multi-room, often-bustling pub in the heart of the city. Then again, I've always enjoyed picking lint out of my navel and flicking it at people on the bus. I don't come here for the banter by the 'characters' at the bar (read: shouting Sex Pistols lyrics with the emphasis firmly on the last syllable of "Pretty Vacant". I don't come here for a mediocre guest beer (lots of pumpclips of interesting ones on the wall, never seen them on when I've visited). I come here for a damn fine pint of Everards.

Sunchaser was the right side of cool - maybe it was the 'extra cold' version? It certainly felt more-than-just-cellar cold. Great condition, in its branded glass. Good beer, well presented. Whereas alcofrolicchap's Burton Bridge Spring Ale seemed to have sprung itself flat somewhat.


Criterion

Casks on offer: difficult to tell
Potential scoops: ?!?
Keg on offer: six-ish
Actual scoops: 0
Favorites drank: 2: (Punk IPA, one pint; Augustiner Edelstoff, 500ml bottle)

The problem with the Criterion? It's like bumping into an ex-girlfriend; you both drifted apart, you both met someone new, now she's no longer the bubbly bundle of fun you once loved but slightly jaded and world-weary. You want to put your arm round her and chat about the old times but you both know it won't cheer either of you up.

This used to be my favourite pub in the city; interesting casks well kept, odd keg offerings at a time when there wasn't so much variety knocking around as there is today, a chunky bottle menu that became the syllabus for my Belgian beer education (intermediate level). Now the place seems to be quieter, the casks more predictable, the bottles scarcer. Alcofrolic and I enjoyed the last pints of the kegged Punk and some bottled Edelstoff outside by the giddy vista of the ring road. And I felt wistfully bitter...


The Font

Casks on offer: four
Potential scoops: none
Keg on offer: some-ish
Actual scoops: 1 (Stella Black)
Favorites drank: 1 (Stella Artois)

There's only two reasons we visited this bright and breezy student-centric bar. Hand-cut chips. And Stella Black.

The chips were chunky, hot and really potatoey. The Stella Black was a car-crash in a chalice. Worse thing I've had in my mouth since I chewed a verruca. I had to have a pint of, er, 'normal' Stella to get the syrupy gloop taste out of my mouth.

(Now is not the time nor place to discuss why Black is so execrable or why I'm still drinking Stella Artois. That time will be after I've had six pints of the latter one afternoon and feel like mouthing off ).


Swan and Rushes

Casks on offer: about eight
Potential scoops: some
Keg on offer: probably
Actual scoops: 1 (Dupont Monk's Stout)
Favorites drank: 2 (Orval, Cantillon Vigneronne)

One fine day, I will make the Swan and Rushes my first port of call when in Leicester. I will have a game of bar billiards, chew the fat with the bar staff and sip an Orval at a leisurely pace. Today, however, it was the usual last-pub-mad-dash.

An Orval slipped down quicker than a Manchester United striker in the penalty area. I think I asked alcofrolicchap how quick he could drink gueuze. A bottle of Cantillon Vigneronne was procured and drained in short order. That's all the beer I was here for. And well tasty they were, too. Though I did then find the time for a Monk's Stout by Dupont; it seemed a fairly plain-Jane brew, though to be fair my tastebuds had just been wrapped round the back of my ears by the Cantillon.

So here's another pub that seen some better days. It's been on and off the market for years and would really benefit from a period of stability. Having said that, it's got a well-worn-slipper feel about it, comfy and inviting. And the staff are great - knowledgeable, interested, amiable. The barmaid that night, Erica, was keen to try the Vigneronne and happy to chat about geuze. You just don't get that in many other places.

Results

Scoops: 2
Favourites: 7
Verdict: Really Very Reluctant Scooping.
Beer of the day: Orval. Obviously.

There's still plenty of good beer to be found in Leicester. It's just a rather subdued scene. Someone needs to give the place a swift kick up the victuals.

Perhaps a Leicester Tap, anyone...? >

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. >

It wouldn't surprise me if 'Crouch' became rhyming slang for pale and hoppy ale.

Since winning the CAMRA Champion Beer of Britain award in 2005 and 2006,"Brewer's Gold" has become Crouch Vale's flagship ale and the standard to which many new microbrewers aspire. Since 1981, Colin Bocking and the Crouch Vale crew have been supplying the South East with plenty of hoppy beer as well as a few darker delights along the way. But it's the paler beers that have made their name, being resolutely unfraid to use quality German and American hops to great effect.

Their seasonal brews often showcase hop varieties and are renowned for both their quality and their unpredictability; the website states that their offering is subject to change due to "ingredient availability issues and strange brewers' whims". Which sounds a perfect plan to me.

Why try? They're the very definition of pale, hoppy ale.

What to look for? Brewer's Gold, the rarer Brewer's Gold Extra and any of those adventurous seasonals.

Where to buy? Their heartland is Essex and the South East but as wholesalers with an extensive network the beers do escape across the country. Bottles
can be bought online from Ales By Mail. >

Randy bird mating calls - fluid warbling. A recalcitrant petrol lawnmower being kick-started. Air temperature just the right side of cool. Magnolias opening their petals and showing their class. The whiff of fish & chips wafting from the kitchen.

And a pint of Whim Armadillo, sublime tropical, effortlessly drinkable, thoroughly incorrigible.

There are many great beer experiences in the world. But it's hard to beat a perfect pint of English cask beer in an English pub garden at the start of an English spring.

Royal Oak, Ockbrook, 1848, Thursday April 7th 2011 >

The first beer I helped to brew. The first blonde ale I truly loved. The best pubs in Nottingham. Castle Rock are responsible for all of these.

The first beer was Large: brewed for a Robert Rankin fan get-together (to be honest, I knew little about the author but a mate of mine organised the brewday and knew I was keen to get involved). I can remember being covered in malt and I can remember the first four pints of Elsie Mo in the bar after. Just.

The first blonde was Trammie Dodger, a special for Nottingham Beer Festival in 2003, which later morphed into Harvest Pale, CAMRA's Champion Beer in 2010. Nectar. Sheer nectar.

The best pubs; Vat & Fiddle for a swift pre-train pint, Kean's Head for a legendary Scotch egg, Lincolnshire Poacher for the occasional Brewdog cask, Victoria at Beeston for peace & quiet.

Castle Rock beers formed a major part of my cask beer education. The monthly specials still keep me on my toes. And Harvest Pale: I may not think it's quite what it used to be, but you never forget your first time... and everybody changes.

Why try? The best brewery in Nottingham by a landslide.

What to look for? Harvest Pale! And Elsie Mo, the foreshortener of many a lunchtime session.

Where to buy? Nottingham. See the pubs mentioned above. If you see me there, I'll stand you a pint... >

I know exactly why I included 'David Watts' on a recent compilation mix.

"fah-fah-fah fah-fah fah-fah-fahhh..."

That was my internal metronome, just as I'm on the cusp of becoming a casual, when you carried the tunes in your head, before electronics inserted them in there for you.

"fah-fah-fah fah-fah fah-fah-fahhh..."

On the train home from London the other week, drinking good beer and thinking about how the UK doesn't have a cult of personality when it comes to brewers but how there is a fair chunk of inspiration / desperation / unrequited manlove within the industry... here's one for all the doe-eyed acolytes out there.

"I am a dull and simple brewer
Cannot tell gueuze from old ale
And I have never met Greg Koch
And I wish I could have all he has got

I wish I could brew like David Watts
fah-fah-fah fah-fah fah-fah-fah...

And when I lie on my pillow at night
I dream I could brew like David Watts
And lead the brew team to victory
Hit my grav readings and pass the lot

I wish I could brew like David Watts
fah-fah-fah fah-fah fah-fah-fah...

He is the head of the brewery
He knows his RIS from his IPA
He is so keen and fancy-free
And I wish I could have all he has got

I wish I could brew like David Watts
fah-fah-fah fah-fah fah-fah-fah...

And all the geeks in the neighbourhood
Try to go brew up with David Watts
They brew their best but can't succeed
For he is of pure and noble breed

fah-fah-fah fah-fah fah-fah-fah..."



muso notes - it's where the velveteen sentiment of Ray Davies meets the staccato punch of Bruce Foxton. I loved it then, love it still, and now I love it even more having found this video from the heady days of Revolver (any of you pop-pickers remember that?) >

Brewing in Sheffield is not an easy business. The city has probably the most discerning real-ale customer base in the country; getting your beers onto the bars and keeping them there is a real challenge. You could buy a pub and so own your own outlet. You could brew house beers for other bars and pubs. You could walk the streets, speak to landlords and drum up sales that way. Pete Roberts of the The Brew Company does all three.

And whereas some Yorkshire brewers are content to just tinker with recipes to provide endless ticker-friendly variations of the same beer, The Brew Company are prepared to be bolder. Single hopped showcases, seasonal specials, brews inspired by travels and trains of thought... they like to produce assertive beer with character and flavour. Their brews run through the city's 'Valley Of Beer'; house beers for one of the best known bars, specials at the scoop-tastic pubs plus one-offs at their own place (the Harlequin).

Such demand is proof positive that, even in a city the size of Sheffield, there's more than one way to skin a cask...

Why try? Quality regulars and adventurous specials

What to look for? Hop Ripper or St Petrus Stout

Where to buy? House beers and specials at the Harlequin, Devonshire Pale at the Devonshire Cat, many Sheffield pubs stock regular and/or seasonal brews

>

Brewdog = Marmite.

I can't think of any other British brewer that polarise opinion in the way that Fraserburgh's finest do. Stoats stuffed with freeze-distilled beer. Dwarfs protesting outside Parliament. A Bar With No Cask. Never backwards at steamrolling forward with PR that complies to the law of contrary opinion.

Plenty of mouth is one thing. Do they have the brew trousers to match? Well, in four short years their beers have passed into the lore of British New Wave Of Hoppy Brewing. The steady hand of Martin Dickie has pushed Punk IPA and Riptide to the fore as worthy competitors to Jaipur and St Petersburg as brewed at his former employer, Thornbridge.

With an assertive export programme, ceaseless experimentation with ingredients at both extremes of the ABV spectrum and their own bars starting to bloom, Brewdog may or may not be forging a 'craft beer revolution'. Call it what you will; as long as you can call the end product 'damn tasty beer' then I'm behind them.

If only I could persuade James Watt that a beer actually brewed with Marmite might work...

Why try? Leftfield brews that you can't fail to have an opinion about.

What to look for? Punk IPA, 5am Saint - both on keg. And Paradox, the whisky-aged stout.

Where to buy? Their own bars and website, plus a host of top ale pubs and bars such as the Sheffield and Euston Taps. >

The old house had a larger garden, which was both a treasure to behold and a pain in the arse. Half an hour's lawnmowing felt like worthy work; goldfinches and greenfinches brought a certain vibrancy to the place. But there was always a border to be weeded, a bush to be trimmed, an edge to be tidied.

Nowadays in the new place there's more traffic noise, a postage-stamp lawn and a still-to-be-steam-cleaned patio. I can hear plenty of birds but they don't seem to want to stop over. Perhaps it's the magpies close by. Perhaps it's because there's a dead blackbird on the garage roof. But the sun room is south-facing, the hydrangeas look healthy and that patio will make for a decent BBQ space later this month.

And some things never change. It's the warmest day of the year so far and I'm sat in the warmest room, overlooking the garden with a cold beer. Bridgeport IPA is full of sticky bitter citrics, has a wildly aromatic nose that dies violently and just enough marmaladyness.

To everyone in the UK who, when the sun came out today, automatically thought of sitting back and enjoying a beer - here's to you. >

Wracked as I am with the sort of snot that could glue a tuba player to the ceiling of the Royal Albert Hall, it's batter up time. It's the Session. It's the fiftieth Session.

What makes me buy beer?

Let's keep this simple, folks.


Habit - which I flogged to death a while back. I love those regular beers in regular places. Many of which have become regular beers through...

Stupidity - which fuels the purchase of terrifically imbalanced, blunt-tasting, limited-release-for-a-reason beers. Often at the behest of...

Drunken bullies - who are often found in pubs and bars I frequent - Oi! Johnson! Do as you're told, drink this and bloody enjoy it. Or moreso in recent times on...

Twitter - which lets me know what brewers are brewing, what pubs are serving, what drinkers are drinking and the happy confluence of a great beer on sale in a great pub being enjoyed by great people. Or perhaps it's an odd bottle available from an online store ; come on down...

Phil Lowry - who, with his beermerchants hat on, is responsible for me trying my first ever US West Coast beers and craft Italians, for convincing me that little-known Belgian brewers like Viven are world-class and for feeding my gueuze habit.

And so it goes.

My medication beckons. Nurse, the screens! >

Nottingham CAMRA have seen some sights at their festivals, but few have had the same impact as a monkey.

In a corner of the main tent in 2008, Blue Monkey Brewing launched their debut beer and thirsty punters lapped it up. That beer, a 3.6% session bitter called Original, had taken brewer John Hickling over twenty test brews to perfect. He was rewarded with over 1,200 pints of it being sold during the three-day festival.

A year later John launched his first dark beer, Guerrilla Stout, which promptly won the Champion Beer award at the SIBA Midlands competition. Blue Monkey brews have since been sold in over a hundred pubs throughout Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire. The brewery expanded into new premises in 2010 to meet the ever-growing demand for its beer.

Why try? John and the team brew well balanced, moreish beer.

What to look for? The pale and hoppy BG Sips or the surprisingly-light-bodied Guerrilla Stout.

Where to buy? Blue Monkey concentrate their sales in Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire. Look for their distinctive pump clips which feature a blue chimpanzee (chimps look funnier than monkeys so we'll let them off). >

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.

>

When I first began drinking cask ale, it was Beer From The Coast at a pub that's almost as far away from the sea as you can be in Great Britain. I've still never asked why the Carpenter's Arms in Dale Abbey, Derbyshire, serves Adnams beer from Suffolk but I'm grateful that it does.

A pint of Broadside became my regular Sunday mid-country-walk tipple. When holidaying in Norfolk, their Bitter became a go-to beer wherever I went. And whereas some regional brewers seem content with recipes from days of yore, Adnams experiment continuously with style and re-interpretation. After all, they didn't name a beer 'Innovation' for nothing.

Rightly proud of their environmental policies, adventurous with their specials, reliable with their regulars, Adnams are a fresh breeze in a regional brewing scene that is too often shoegazing in sepia.

Why try? Balanced core beers and interesting specials

What to look for? Broadside, Explorer and bottles such as Innovation and Spindrift.

Where to buy? Adnams pubs throughout East Anglia and beyond. Bottles can be bought direct from their own website. >

Back in January, the question was asked on Scoopgen as to what the members' favourite twenty UK breweries of the moment were. It's often more difficult than you think to compile such a list; half-a-dozen may be obvious but how do you decide between the rest?

I've revisited my original list from back then with the added proviso that I'd only pick breweries from whom I've drank at least five different beers. Strength in depth, you see.

So, as an exercise in filling up this site with waffle whilst I'm elsewhere doing other stuff - er, I mean as a concise and informative way of profiling my currrent favourite UK breweries - the gory details will start to appear here from tomorrow. Some will be all-too-familiar-but-worthy, some will (hopefully) make you think twice as to why I've included them and some will - possibly - blindside you completely.

Note to sceptics - it's not definitive, it's not a Top 20, it's not sponsored. It's a list of UK brewers from whom, if I organised a beer festival tomorrow, I'd place my orders from.


The pic is of Andrea Pausler - then at Thornbridge, now at Birreria Amarcord - with a dirty big grin on his face as he chucks bucketfuls of hops it to a brew. Don't you just love a happy brewer!

>

I've just finished reading "Beer Is Proof That God Loves Us" by Dr. Charles Bamforth. In turns it's part autobiography, part brewing history, part meditation and then more besides.

Of the dozen-ish books on beer that I've read this year, it's the first one that's really made me stop and think. And re-read. And think again.

And I've plenty more time for thought now - I'm off for a milk-thistle break. For the next few weeks, a series of articles will appear here about the twenty breweries that have been tickling my fancy for some time. Normal topering service will be resumed after Easter.

There's been much talk on the beer blogs recently about the need for more positivism, pride and open-mindness. I'll leave you for now with this quote from Charles Bamforth;

"... whether it is food or any other manifestation of this earthly existence, the beliefs, passions, and indeed, choices are endless. And who is to say what is good or bad? Let us be mindful here. Let us respect and be tolerant of each other's opinions. And surely it should be this way with beer?" >

You ought to know the drill by now. For newbies, the gory details are here and here.

I managed to miss out Leicester last month although it was promised; Must Try Harder and it's pencilled back in for next month. Or May. Honest.

Anyoldhow, the prospect of a few interesting brews around Brum dragged me westward today.

The Old Contemptibles

Cask beers on offer:6
Potential scoops: 1
Keg beers on offer: 8
Potential scoops: 0
Actual scoops: 1 (Cropton/North Peak Vicious IPA, pint, cask)

The last time I was here, I was inducted into the unofficial Martin Miller's Gin Appreciation Society. Today, early doors, I'm here for the beer. I'd heard on ratebeer of this odd American/Yorkshire wheat IPA hybrid so I mucked in early doors to see what the fuss was. And it was... worth fussing about. I'm still not sure how a brewpub from Traverse City, Michigan have ended up brewing at Cropton for an English pub chain but I ain't complaining. Just wheaty enough to soften the palate, plenty of hops to keep it zingy all the way down. And bonus points to the pub for actually having some ex-soldiers in there as regulars. Build it, name it and they will drink...

Old Joint Stock

Cask beers on offer:8 (I think)
Potential scoops: 1
Keg beers on offer: 8 (-ish)
Potential scoops:1
Favourites drank: 1 (Fuller's London Porter, keg, two pints)

The seasonal cask offering, Front Row, was on alongside some LocAle guests. And there was a promoted foreign-muck thing that I paid no attention to. Because I only drink London Porter here. No point in doing anything else but. Kegged London Porter is too good to not drink. Anytime of the year. Never mind matching with food or mood. It goes with whatever it damn well wants to. Sat in the plate-glass window overlooking the cathedral, my pint glowed blood red at the base, tasted the right side of licorice and demandedthat I buy a second one. The added bonus of a live, cool, jazz trio made a great pub with a great crowd drinking great beer even, er, greater. Sorry, I just ran out of adjectives.

Note to self - sign on door says no League football shirts to be worn inside. Must buy a Sheffield FC shirt and visit again.

Wellington

Cask beers on offer:16
Potential scoops:5
Keg beers on offer: didn't look
Actual scoops: 1 (Hopshackle Hibernator, half-pint, cask)

I always tell myself I won't go back here. Nothing personal - Nigel does a sterling job. It's just that my mad ticking days are over, the range isn't that esoteric anymore and the Welly has a reputation for being pricey. I'd call £1.90 for half a Hopshackle Hibernator (5.8%) taking the piss, even for a city pub. Still, I bought it. Scoopers return to rare beers like dogs return to vomit. Tasty beer, well kept, to be honest.

Anchor

Cask beers on offer:loads
Potential scoops: all of them
Keg beers on offer: Barbar. Erdinger. Some others.
Actual scoops: 1 (Church End Jasmine, cask, one pint)

Drawing towards the arse-end of a Church End festival, there were still in the region of twenty beers left on. Jasmine seemed to offer the path of least resistance. It was inoffensive enough, if a tad warm from an unjacketed cask on stillage. But it's not all about the beer here; half an hour spent watching hurling with the sound down and the jukebox on is an experience that money can't buy. Especially as a bunch of shovel-handed lads appear to be making up the rules to a new ball game whilst Joe Jackson sings "I Should Have Known Better".

Results:

Scoops: 3
Favourites: 1
Verdict: Not Very Reluctant Scooping.
Beer of the day: Fuller's London Porter. Well, actually, it was the bottle of Adnam's Winter IPA that I bought from Marks and Sparks and drank on the train home. Wish I'd bought two of them...



The pic is of Birmingham Cathedral from inside the Old Joint Stock. One of the finest views out of a pub window that I know of. >

Thornbridge Jaipur at the Coach & Horses, Dronfield; twenty Imperial fluid ounces of relaxation alongside a burger and the Saturday papers.

Adnams Broadside at the Carpenter's Arms, Dale Abbey; my walking boots steaming, my cockles warmed by the fire, my palate satiated by big fat chewy malts.

Stella Artois at Morley Hayes golf club; crisp, quenching, my not-playing-golf-but-just-sitting-in-the-clubhouse-lazing-around choice for over fifteen years.

Bernard unfiltered pilsner at the Sheffield Tap; when coming straight from standing on a hot, cramped train there's nothing better than a cold pils followed quickly by another one.

Pictish Brewer's Gold at the Kelham Island Tavern; never mind the tick, feel the quality.

Woodforde's Wherry straight from the cask at the Three Horseshoes, Warham. Sublimely balanced, helping me drop down the mental gears at the start of every North Norfolk holiday.

Augustiner Edelstoff from the bottle at the Ship & Mitre, Liverpool. I know it's in the fridge, waiting.

Harvey's Best at the Royal Oak, Southwark. Because it's the best damn-tastiest bitter I know of.

Marble Dobber at Marble Arch, Manchester. The first beer I ever drank there and would be happy it were the only one I ever drank there again.

Fuller's London Porter on keg at the Old Joint Stock, Birmingham. The seasons change, the view through the plate-glass windows moves from suits in overcoats to strappy-backed crop-topped students but the malts remain the same.

Bass at the Cooper's Tavern, Burton-upon-Trent. Nothing salves a tired mind than twenty minutes spent with a sulphurous brew and some idle rocking of a treadle on a table that once housed a Singer sewing machine,

Brewdog Punk IPA in my fridge. White Feather in the Brunswick brewpub. Whim Hartington IPA in the Smithfield, Derby. The list goes on.

I spent several years chasing the rate, looking for the beer I hadn't had before. I've spent longer enjoying the beers I love in the places where I first fell in love with them.

Some day, I may find a bar serving a barrel-aged double imperial gooseberry hefeweizen that keeps me coming back for more. Until that day, I have my regular beers in sometimes-irregularly-visited places. As long as they are still standing and still serving, I'm still drinking there.



Props to Stan at Appellation Beer for hosting this month's Session and for being all all-round splendid chap. Blogs *should* make you think. Thinking is so important. Right, Baldrick? >