Two articles caught me eye today. Acorn Brewery have re-opened a former Enterprise Inns pun, Old No. 7 in Barnsley, as their 'brewery tap'.

Meanwhile, the Institute for Public Policy Research has released a report that calls for reform to the tied-lease model of pub company operations.

It's great to see breweries investing in a pub, whether it's buying outright or entering a deal such as Everards' Project William. Is this something that more microbrewers ought to take more seriously? After all, what better way is there of showcasing their beers?

With the tied-lease model under increasing pressure, is there room in the future for brewers to approach pubcos and explore shared-lease options? For pubcos to actively court microbrewers with an eye towards such shared ventures? How about pubcos identifying premises that may even be suitable for micro/nano brewing?

By themselves, such initiatives won't square the ever-decreasing circle of tied-pub profitability. But it may well be the model that encourages ever more entreprenueral approaches to managing the tie in the future. Because, for some licensees, there doesn't seem to be that much of a future left anymore. >

Perhaps the future of hop production is dwarfish. The last ten years has seen a great deal of research both in the US and the UK into the cultivation of dwarf hops. With cones growing down to ground level on a low trellis, these varieties can be mechanically harvested direct from the field. They are proving to be hardier and more resistant to pests. And, in the UK, they can offer greater bittering potential compared to our traditional hop crops.

One of the first UK commerical varieties, First Gold, has acheived some success, notably through single hopped beers by the likes of Badger and Acorn. Like a spicier version of Goldings, it's able to offer orange and peach flavours alongside robust bitterness.

Although the UK Government pulled funding into commissioned research concerning sustainable dwarf hop production, the National Hop Association (NHA) has maintained the momentum. With funding from the Society of Independent Brewers, the NHA have developed a new dwarf hop aimed at offering UK brewers a domestic alternative to foreign bittering hops.

The United States have been at the forefront of dwarf hop development. Summit, the first commercial dwarf produced by the American Dwarf Hop Association, is a high-alpha dwarf with flavouring and bittering that suits the popular double/imperial IPA styles. Although the US doesn't struggle in terms of hop production, development of varieties such as Summit can be seen as their way of maintaining market presence, especially with China becoming the third largest hop grower in the world.

There's potential with dwarf varieties for a radical shake-up of hop agriculture. If it offers more home-grown varities with greater yield potential - and potentially a crop that even a homebrewer could attempt to cultivate in their garden - the gardens of England could take on a new hue in the near future. >

My next three months of Sundays are taken up by long country walks. So you can expect a few rambles involving rural pubs and eclectic bus services. Meanwhile, it's the last day of my Christmas holidays so I forced myself round Derby for four pints. And another one.





There's something vaguely dirty about drinking alcohol before 10am. Unless you've been caning it all night and haven't gone to bed. Or it's New Years Day and you've woken early to find a spare bottle of champers in the fridge. Or you're travelling business class. But having a pint next to a cooked breakfast seems odd even for a Reluctant Scooper like me. At least I had the common decency to wait until I'd finished my microwave-up in the Babington Arms before my first beer - and at least my breakfast wasn't just a pint of Stella like half the old soaks in there. Despite the usual panoply of beers available I don't usually succumb to booze after breakfast here, but I don't usually see Thornbridge on offer. A pint of Kipling was almost ordered before a gem was spotted - Seven Heron, brewed by Melissa Cole at Thornbridge. It's a superbly smooth drop, light malts and creamy hops, just a hint of flint amongst those fat wet fruits. It was good enough to stop me being pissed off by whoever was whistling the refrain from Nessan Dorma, over and over again, out of tune.

After a spot of shopping, a damn fine cappuchino at the Grand Cafe Caruso and a laugh around the remnants of the M&S sale, I dragged my cold bones into the Brunswick. No coal fire at 1205 so I pitched up by a lukewarm rad with a pint of Father Mike's. Velvet liquorish is a glass. Really quiet in here, mind; I could actually hear myself drinking. The odd bus passing by and a foot sticking to the bar floor were the only sounds to keep me awake. And can I just say something about shopping? Glad as I was to buy a Simon Drew calendar, why are they selling at half price, with a further 50% off at the till, only four days into a new year? And how can a set of 'gentleman's beard scissors and moustache comb' cost sixteen quid? It's a rather small pair of round-tipped scissors, as used by primary school kids, and a comb that you used to buy for your Sindy doll. Not that I ever had a Sindy doll, of course. My Action Man always preferred Barbie. Even though he had no genitals.

The long haul of literally two dozen paces plonked me into the Alex. Alan was removing the Christmas decorations and ensuring that the Abbeydale Absolution was pulling through OK. It was, so I had a pint and By Gum was it wonderful with a rich creamy melon-melange. Quiet here as well, two guys in the corner discussing the merits of fewer megapixels and the cellar cooler vibrating the table to leave pattens in my pint. Eventually though the near-silence seemed to be mocking my failure at yet another Azed crossword in the Observer so I decided to go freeze my nethers off and slope up to the 'Pot.

Rewind. Play... 'Really quiet in here'... me and the barmaid and the off-duty cook and the off-duty-cook's mate. Almost two o'clock; I wouldn't see another paying customer for over 45 minutes. At least is ensured that the cellar bar was quiet, apart from the jukebox lurching into life every fifteen minutes (no problem with that when it's the likes of 'The Prince' by Madness). Un-Reluctantly I plumped for a pint of Headless Summat Else - rather like KSA or First Bloom, more than possibly a rebadge/mix but still wonderfully citric so I don't give a tinker's tassle. Then the entertainment arrived, a charmeless nerk who regaled his mate with such pearlers as "Belgian beer is shit, it's all lager", "Brooge, it's beer city", "that festival in Hanover, er, Hamburg... I was sick as a fucking pig in there" and my personal favourite on a Bremen beer festival: "there must have been 800 beers, nearly all free". Thankfully, all too soon he had to catch his bus home, probably to edit some Wikepedia pages. I celebrated his departure with a pint of Acorn Ahtanum, a copper/red flat fart of a pint with a clean grapefruit feel with a little earthiness lurking.

Another fun Sunday - they nearly always are. Solid classics, new scoops, freezing cold pubs and a laugh somewhere along the way. If you can get into Derby on a Sunday it's well worth a trawl around - leave it until April and I'll show you around.
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