"It is called Merry-goe-downe, for it slides downe merrily; It is fragrant to the sent; It is most pleasing to the taste.; The flowring and mantling of it (like chequer worke) with the Verdant smiling of it, it is delightefull to the sight, it is Touching or Feeling to the Braine and Heart; and (to please the senses all) it provokes men to singing and mirth, which is contenting to the Hearing...

...It sets an Edge upon Logick and Rhetorick; It is a friend to the Muses; It inspires the poore Poet, that cannot compasse the price of Canarie or Gascoigne; It mounts the Musitian above Eela; It makes the Balladmaker Rime beyond Reason; It is a Repairer of a decaide Colour in the face; It puts Eloquence into the Oratour; It will make the Philosopher talke profoundly, the Scholar learnedly. and the Lawyer acute and feelingly...

... in Conclusion, it is such a nourisher of Mankinde, that if my Mouth were as bigge as Bishopgate, my Pen as long as a Maypole, and my Inke a flowing spring, or a standing fishpond, yet I could not with my Mouth, Pen or Inke, speake or write the true worth and worthiness of Ale."


Excerpt, "Drinke and Welcome", John Taylor, 1637 >

Some might say that online presence is vital for microbrewers. That without a website, Twitter account and Facebook page a brewer is missing out on sales opportunities and marketing potential. And I'm sure some brewers would hear those words, shake their heads and then get back to their business of brewing beer for a sustainable market.

Jo Allsop doesn't need web-based shenanigans to sell his beer. If you go looking for Whim Brewery online, you'd be lucky to find even his phone number. The truth is, his beer sells well in the pubs close to the Hartington-based brewery in Derbyshire's Peak District as well as throughout the county. My local, the Royal Oak in Ockbrook, will clear a barrel of their IPA or Bitter so quickly that there's hardly time to change the pump clip.

Good beer is where you find it. And you don't always need the tinterweb to tell you where that is. (Apart from now, if you've never heard of them before. Irony, indeed).

Why try? Well-made, well balanced, full of flavour. Lets the ales do the talking.

What to look for? Hartington Bitter and Black Christmas (which I've managed to drink in July at the brewery-owned Wilkes Head in Leek).

Where to buy? As well as the Wilkes, Whim beers appear at the Charles Cotton (Hartington) and are regulars at the Flowerpot and Smithfield in Derby. >

Regular readers know I'm a huge fan of Thornbridge. I've brewed beers with them. I go out drinking with them. They send me samples. I've supportive of all they do. I write about them often.

Why?

It's this simple: I still get a buzz when they release a new beer. Do other brewers make me feel the same way? Well, I can count the number of them on the fingers of one hand.

The owner, Jim Harrison, knows what he wants. Head Brewer, Stefano Cossi, knows how to brew it. The whole team know how to deliver the results.

There are three reasons why Jaipur is a world-champion beer. Why styles old and new are executed with thrilling precision. Why I would choose a Thornbridge beer over any other cask in the world.

Innovation. Passion. Knowledge.

You can taste it in every Thornbridge pint.

Why try? They're the best beers brewed in England.

What to look for? Jaipur. Kipling. Brock. And, if you're oh-so-lucky, Bracia.

Where to buy? Plenty of places across the country but rarely better than drinking it the Sheffield Tap, The Bear in Alderwasley, Packhorse Inn in Little Longstone or Greystones in Sheffield. And myBrewerytap have a range of bottles on sale too. >

Gazza Prescott and Dave Szwejkowski of Steel City Brewing can be objectionable, arrogant, opinionated and bloody-minded. That's why I like them; that's why I like their beers.

With a clear idea on what to brew - hoppy as hell - they could have stuck to homebrew bucket-action in a garage. Instead, they operate as a 'cuckoo' brewery, using other brewplants to produce mainly light, hoppy beers in what they call a 'Mid-Atlantic' style. As they have strong opinions about beer - US hops, good; crystal malt, bad - it's good to see them walking the walk and not just loudmouthing the talk.

The results may be divisive but at least they're never boring. As they have full-time jobs, beer production is sporadic but that adds to the thrill of the chase for beer tickers and lovers of humulus lupulus alike.

Just do us a favour, guys. Brew something really hoppy. You know you want to ;-)


Why try? They know what hops can do and they aren't afraid to use them

What to look for? They don't have regular brews: check their website for details

Where to buy? Most likely to be found in Sheffield (Wellington, Rutland), Worcester (Dragon) and, er, Horsley Woodhouse and Kilburn in Derbyshire (Old
Oak and Hunter's Arms) >

The Kelham Island Tavern is famed for its choice of rotating guest ales, their names chalked up on a blackboard to the left of the bar. I never look at it. I never need to. Because the KIT has a regular beer which, if the other Sheffield pubs served it, I would drink in every man jack of them. Brewer's Gold. By Pictish.

Words seem woefully inadequate when trying to explain just how much I love this beer. Which, for a beer writer, is rather a cop-out. But its strength and depth and breadth is more than just a sum of its liquid bread and flighty hop mouthfeel. It's my contented exhalation, a sense of normalcy restored, the bittersweet memory held for the rest of the topering day. For me the beer is inextricably linked to the KIT - I've never drank it anywhere else - and it's become my flavour-track to both beery gatherings of sweaty topers and solitary musings over half-completed crosswords.

But there's more to Pictish than Brewer's Gold. Indeed, they brew a whole heap of single-hopped lovelies which just seem to be more.... complete than other brewer's fayre. The last I drank, Motueka at Sheffield's Sheaf View, was... satisfying. As in, three pints worth of satisfaction. And what's not to love about the brewer saying the single-hopped beers get brewed as and when he feels like it? And that he can't be bothered to write almost identical tasting notes, so he just uses the phrase "A pale, very hoppy beer brewed using [insert name] hops"?

Few beers make an award-winning pub's beer selection an afterthought. That's the power of Pictish at the KIT.

Why try? Seemingly effortless balance, allowing the hops to shine rather than dazzle clumsily

What to look for? Brewer's Gold. Any of the single-hop series.

Where to buy? Apart from Brewers's Gold at the Kelham Island Tavern in Sheffield - and get your hands off, it's mine - Pictish distribute widely throughout Lancashire, Manchester and West Yorkshire. >

Palates change. When I tasted my first pint by Oakham, I wrote that it was "massively hopped - pulls your lips back over your head, a bit too frantic for me". Nowadays, Oakham on the bar is my guarantee of a refreshingly-hopped beer.

What I love about Oakham - apart from their superlative beer - is that they just get on and do stuff that other brewers would crow about and muck up. Collaborative brews (with Newby Wyke and Green Jack), barrel-aging (such as Oblivion or Atilla), and pioneering hop brews(Citra).

I was guilty of sidelining Oakham beers during my scooping years. Now, I drink it out of choice wherever I find it. There are plenty of pubs around Notts and Derbyshire that have Bishop's Farewell and/or JHB as regular beers. And I am more than happy to drink long and deep.

Why try? Hops used judiciously, not afraid to oomph the ABV if it carries the flavour better

What to look for? JHB and Bishop's Farewell. The best cask Citra in the UK. And dark beers like Black Hole Porter. And the full-bodied Atilla or Tranquility.

Where to buy? All over the East Midlands and Cambridgeshire. But best at their own pubs such as the splendid Barton's Arms in Aston. Well worth the trip to Peterborough to drink at Charters Bar, a converted Dutch barge, and their Brewery Tap with its glass-fronted brewkit. >

I love to drink beer in the county where it's brewed. I love to find a pub near the brewery and enjoy their beer on its home territory. And so here's a brewer I've sampled in Manchester and Sheffield but never in their Somerset homeland. Not odd, though, given that I've never been to Somerset.

My introduction to Moor Brewing came though odd casks at CAMRA festivals and found them all to be, well, average brown British bittery beers. The brewer fell off my radar until a few years ago when I picked up a few of their bottles from beermerchants; the branding grabbed my attention as it was so much bolder, more confident - as were the beers. Step forward Justin Hawke, a new broom brewing up stuff that brought more than a little of his native West Coast USA flavour to the West Country.

Tracking down casks of Moor up here in the Midlands is tricky; a real shame as I've still got a taste for some of their sessionable beers. I've also got a taste for their 9% JJJ IPA but that results in a short, messy session. There's only one thing for it - I need to find me a Somerset pub and drink Moor beer all the live-long day. Sounds like an ideal summer weekend to me. I wonder if there's Moor beer on the bar at Somerset Cricket Club?

Why try? Classic styles re-invigorated; contemporary styles mastered.

What to look for? Quaffers on cask like Revival and Peat Porter; sippers in the bottle such as JJJ IPA and Old Freddie Walker.

Where to buy? Errr, Somerset is your best bet. If anyone can recommend somewhere there, please let me know. Meanwhile, you can always buy bottles from beermerchants. >

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! >