Birthday bash #1: Brum

I was over in Birmingham last month as part of my birthday celebrations. With my none-too-reluctant cider drinking wife, we managed to fit in a visit to my favourite three pubs in Brum.


An early arrival into Brum on Monday allowed us to drop our cases off at Malmaison and head for an early lunch. I was keen on taking Bec to the Old Joint Stock and wanted to get there before the braying office hoards arrived. It's a Fullers pub, possibly their northerly-most outpost, and I was in search of cask London Porter.

A fabulous contraption lifted Bec's wheelchair up the steps at the rear of the building and we were soon ensconced inside. It's a Grade II listed building, beginning life as the Birmingham Joint Stock Bank in 1862. Converted to a pub in 1997, the new Pevsner guide calls it a "subtle, scolarly and beautiful Renaissance palazzo" though the deep coved ceiling is "spoilt by prominent floodlights". Certainly spoilt my photos, although the black & white bodge jobs in Photoshop still give the impression of light and space. High ceilings, chandeliers and the central vaulted bar certainly impress the eye. And the beer was good, too; London Porter (a seasonal beer for November) was still on and I rampaged through several pints. It's got smooth roasted coffee, solid malts, a wisp of smoke and an assured hoppiness. It went well with my mutton, shallots, rosemary & port pie although - as always happens when I eat here - I fancy it would have been better with Bec's choice of pie (steak & stilton). The pub kept busy until five to two, the office workers eventually wending their way deskwards, leaving us in peace. Another pint was drained, slowly, before deciding on a Reluctant change of scenery.

Then, a happy coincidence. Leaving the Old Joint Stock by the rear exit places you by the 'smokers door' of the award-winning Wellington. Well, it would be rude not to have called in, being so close by.... a hefty step to negotiate, though, so thanks to the narrowboatman who held the doors for us. It's a blandish interior, betraying its roots as a wine bar. But two things stand out; a bar with 15 handpulls and the widescreen beer board. The bar offers several regular beers (including offerings from Black Country Ales and the exquisite Wye Valley HPA) alongside an ever-rotating variety of guests from across the country. Those beers are all displayed on the electronic board, giving an indication of the beer's colour alongside price and ABV. If you really want to pee yourself off, you can see the board via this live feed and watch as those beers you really fancy are all drunk by thirsty topers.

The Welly keeps busy, as befits a city-centre pub stacked to the gills with this much real ale. No food is served - you bring your own, the pub provide cutlery. And, yes, in the past I've seen groups sit down to a full Chinese banquet deleivered by taxi to the pub. Useful stuff is for sale behind the bar - crisps, scratchings, beery books, snuff. There's always some cider / perry on offer, and Bec was happy with the Barbourne cider she tried.

I settled for the Crouch Vale Eureka, simply because I've never had an indifferent beer from that brewer. And this didn't disappoint; clean sweet malts with a creamy hop feel tipping the balance. With almost a dozen other beers on the bar, half being scoops, I stayed Reluctant and had a few more Eureka moments. Nothing else really appealed to me - to me honest, I don't think the beer range at the Welly is as adventurous as it used to be. As long as Nigel's got one good beer here, though, I'm happy to imbibe. More about the Welly later.

The afternoon brought bratwurst and gluhwein at the German Christmas market. The evening ended with a champagne and chocolate supper. And Tuesday breakfast was celebrated in the way shared by all parsimonious topers - a full microwave-up at the nearest Wetherspoons. It's always tempting to wash the cholesterol down with a pint, particularly when the likes of Titanic Iron Curtain was adorning the bar. But I was on best birthday behaviour today so first drinkies would have to wait until lunch when we docked at the Anchor.

Bit of a trek into Digbeth as I always go down the wrong road and end up on a ten-minute loop to find the place. But the trip is well rewarded; another Grade II listed building, designed by renowned Birmingham architects James and Lister Lea, clad in terracotta and crammed full of deft touches such as cut glass mirrors, stained glass, corridor tiling and a rare surviving partition screen. They were gearing up for a festival that weekend but there was only one beer that I wanted here - Hobson's Mild. A deserved CAMRA Supreme Champion Beer of Britain in 2007, I love its approach; sweet malts studded with fruit and nuts, smoke stitched into the fraying edges of the palate, all roasted at one step removed. Balanced, quaffable - an epic mild.

With just the two of us in the smoke room and the juke box at our mercy, it was a cracking place to while away an hour or so. Wish we'd been hungry enough to eat here - their snap is the stuff of legends - but the beer was lunch enough for me. And real cider here too; Bec, in her own words, recalled enjoying "somebody's Farmhouse jobby". Sounds all too agricultural, to be honest. I rarely make it down to the Anchor when I'm in Brum and have never been down to the White Swan, another highly regarded pub close by. Looks like I'll have to organise a proper Reluctant Scooper rambling around here in the new year.

Tuesday evening saw us off to the Birmingham Town Hall for my birthday treat - Tony Hadley in concert. One of my wife's favourite singers. Hmmm. I was always a Duran fan myself, but the ex-Spandau lungsmith belts out some great choons and I've learned to love him over the last few years. And of course I get to see the pocket rocket 'Reverend' John Keeble on the drums as well. It was a good gig, Kelbie were a solid support act and Tone mixed up old Spandau faves, classic crooner tunes and a few well-rocked-up songs from the likes of Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Highlight of the night had to be JK on the mike up front for 'Sweet Home Alabama' with Tony discharging himself superbly on drumming duties.

Wednesday brought lazy morning shopping before lunch back at the Welly. With a Philpotts shop just down the hill, we picked up some gargantuan sarnies and secured ourselves a table at the back of the pub. It was a busy day - groups of a dozen or so would drift in and out, knots of office workers surfaced with their Phillpot bags too. And a couple of boatman were here again; we had a chat as I was interested what the cork 'conker' on their keyring was for. They explained you only needed to drop your keys in the canal once; after forking out for a locksmith, you then bought a cork conker so that they'd float if they ended up waterwards again.

Bec was back on the Barbourne again as I picked a few beers at random from the board. Coastal have a reputation for repeated rebadges, but when the beers are as good as Welly Gold I'm not complaining. The Ossett Silver King was strangely underpowered by comparison. And Kinver Caveman had some strong caramel malts that gave me something to chew on.

Too soon it was time for a dash back across town, pick up some chocs from Harvey Nicks and catch the train back home. The focus of these three days wasn't the pubs themselves, but they all played to their strengths; solid ale and huge pies at the Old Joint Stock, eclectic customers and beer range at the Welly, no-nonsense fayre at the Anchor. I'll revisit in 2009 for a more adventurous rambling.

PS - Malmaison was one of the most laid-back and comfy hotels I've ever stayed in. Heartily recommended. And, Tone - if you're reading, don't forget you can send me bottles of anything from Red Rat anytime you like ;-)