Beerfest blessed

The 2007 West Cheshire Beer Festival

Well, if the sun really does shine on the righteous, then Cheshire’s cask ale quaffers are well up on the angelic scale. And farmer-cum brewer Matthew Walley is already set for canonisation in the eternal happy hour in the sky.

For it was to Matthew’s Spitting Feathers brewery at Waverton, near Chester, that your intrepid blogger ventured last Saturday for an afternoon of tasting West Cheshire’s finest micro ales. And, with a miracle-like respite the from the prevalent monsoon season, the sun shone gloriously throughout (try saying that after a few scoops).

I had visited Matthew a couple of days previously, as the rain hammered down, and he had confidently predicted the good weather. A farmer’s inherent ability to read the signs in nature perhaps? Well no, his computer was logged to the BBC website forecast that displayed blazing sun for Saturday.

But no matter, Matthew and his band of disciples from brewers Northern, Weetwood, Woodlands, Station House, Brimstage and Betwixt had planned for a fine July day as this was to be drinking in the great outdoors on the picturesque Common Farm. More recently they must have prayed daily to Egyptian beer goddess Ninkasi. Well their prayers were answered and the event was a sell out with some 700 people attending and 30 casks of beer dispatched.

Now at this time of year there are many ale fests, but, in fact, I’m not a great frequenter, preferring to track down my beer in its natural habitat rather than the zoo-like conditions of festivals (although in this job, attendance at the GBBF is more or less compulsory).

But this one I had to visit to check out a selection of West Cheshire’s best. I did not venture without back-up: a five strong hand-picked team was on hand to assist me (see photo above -courtesy of Camra's George Symes). What a selection it was: 26 splendid hand pulled ales - from the straw coloured Navajo (3.9%), courtesy of Northern, a lovely session ale that creeps up gently, to the Wild Admiral (5%) from Betwixt, confronting you full on with fruity spicy flavours from caramelised malted rye matched with wild-grown Wirral hops.

Weetwood was there with Cheshire Cat (4%), of course, and that, as always, brought a smile to my fellow imbibers while Trappers Hat (3.8%) from Brimstage also went down rapidly with the crew. I tried 1’st Lite (3.8%) from the Station House stable for the first time, and found the grapefruity citrus flavours a great foil to the unaccustomed heat.

Honey, honey

There was also a bit of a honey theme. I had to try Honey Trap (4.1%) from Spitting Feathers courtesy of Matthew’s very own bees that were benignly present around the bar. Good reports also came back on Buzzin’ (4.3%) from Station that uses American hop Palisade. It’s so named after the favourite expression of Hazel, wife to brewer Barrie Davidson. Woodlands had Bees Knees (4.5%), which I failed to sample because I got a hooked on their bitter, which is apparently based on an old Bass recipe – happy memories. Woodlands’ Midnight Stout (4.4%) was also on parade - twice Champion Stout of Cheshire, so enough said if dark beer is your tipple.

Drinkers could stroll around the farm, see the rare breed pigs, tree house and beehives. Then have another. They could play pub games in the bar, and have another, or witness the brewing process in action (thanks Terry). Then have another. Two local bands, the Moo Cows and The Reads, added to the great atmosphere and seven Cheshire charities benefited to the tune of £250 a piece.

I could go on, and on, a bit like the day itself; endless sun, endless, well-kept, cask beer. Suffice to say this was a terrific showcase for the achievements of West Cheshire brewers. You should check them out. Cheers and thanks to Ninkasi and, of course, Matthew - patron saint elect to Cheshire’s ale lovers - and his disciples.

Hooray,the great stub out is here at last. But what next from the nanny state?

Well, it finally happened. We no longer have to risk life and limb ordering a pint in smoke filled pubs and bars. Smoking is at last outlawed in enclosed public places throughout the land. For some it was a triumph of the nanny state, but many will applaud the ban - hailed as 'a major footprint in health history' by the government top health honcho. That may be so. And it could be good for business as many non-smokers threaten to get down the pub at last. My god, they must be thirsty.

As usual a bit ahead of the game, several Brunning & Price hostelries have been smoke free for sometime, a move that was, I believe, generally welcomed. Even Jerry Brunning had to kow-tow and stand on the doorstep at the Grosvenor with his beloved cheroot. I think Harker's held out until the bitter end, although even there no-smoke areas had been conceded.

I went from being a forty-something-stogies a day man to zilch some years ago. But unlike many reformed puffers, I didn't become a zealous 'anti'. In fact, when the total ban was first mooted I empathised with the smoker who just wanted to relax with a fag and a beer. Food areas aside, I thought they weren't doing any harm, especially if proper extraction equipment was used. That was until I worked in a Shropshire village local a couple of years ago. On a Friday night - darts and doms -the erstwhile London smog was bracing air by comparison.

Old Jockstrap

And on Saturday morning my mouth put me in mind of what I imagine to be the flavour delivered by an old jockstrap left out in the sun. That sort of swayed me over to the ban side, for the sake of the bar staff if nothing else, although I still have deep reservations about some of the legislation's more extreme caveats. Let's just pray that those backstreet boozers that were created for the beer and baccy brigade can somehow adapt and survive.

Anyway, there may be a positive side to all this for the ale industry. Apparently, cask ale lovers weren't the worst culprits in the fag department, according to recent trade surveys. Once again it was the lager boys that were causing all the trouble. Now that, I think, is understandable as the average session lager needs all the help it can get on the taste front. Perhaps, now fag less, they will switch to cask ale and boost sales of our beloved traditional beverage. Or perhaps Mr Brown, for the good of the nation, ought to grab the initiative and ban lager?

OK, that may be going a little too far (and might upset the B&P website ed Duncan, who has been known to sample the fizzy stuff). However, it leads me on to reflect that bans are tricky things. Like trouble bent night-club goers on a Saturday night, you let one in and the next thing you know there's a whole ruck of them lining up at the door. Sometimes, welcome as it may be, I wonder: is the smoking ban the thin end of the wedge for the pub business?

As sensible imbibers, ahem, of cask-ale, we must be vigilant. Because there's a faction of the politically correct police that are out to get us. And it's not just the PCs. The real tooled-up coppers also have the pub industry in their sights. In the mode of Mr Robinson in The Graduate I say only one thing: plastic glasses. Yes, apparently we non-smoking-moderate-drinking citizens cannot be trusted to hold a pint glass - unless its a plastic one. Several top cops have called for a blanket glass ban and the trade, rightly, is deeply concerned. I suggest we should all be very worried about this sort of thinking. Beer out of plastic is not right, although without doubt there are venues where this move would be wise -and the punters usually drink lager anyway. Anyone who has witnessed the horror of a glassing incident (and I have in my callow youth), let alone been an innocent victim, will, I'm sure, easily see the reasoning. But by far the vast majority of the millions of well behaved pub and club goers still left in this country will never be touched by this sort of mindlessness, more usually confined to a certain type of outlet or 'culture'. I say those places should deal with the problem and the rest of us should be left in peace. Fortunately this is also broadly the view presently taken by the Government in its recently announced alcohol strategy. So maybe we are in the clear for the moment. But strategies can change. Be aware, be very aware.

Vertical Drinking

And another thing: a move is slowly emerging from the PC brigade that we might all do well to challenge sooner rather than later. I refer to the mooted banning of 'vertical drinking'; an insidious proposal to force us to sit down when taking a tincture. Like no-smoking and plastic glasses this would supposedly improve the pub environment and also discourage binge drinking. It has even been lauded by a leading figure in the booze industry who points to the European drinking experience of table service as the role model to avoid disruptive behaviour.

Well, what a load of old ..... personal appendages. Once again, we know where the thinking for this type of 'control' is coming from and it isn't prompted by the behaviour of drinkers in any of the splendid city beer houses and village inns I frequent.

New boy Gordon and his cronies must be told that while we may be in Europe on this issue we are still an island nation. The British pub is a place to gather, relax, drink, chat, drink and smoke (on no, not now, sorry forgot already).

Above all though, it's often about mingling. OED defines this term thus: 'mix together, move around and chat at a social function'. Well that is what the pub should be - one great big social function. It's about wandering around with a pint in one hand and - oh well, you get the drift. And it never ceases to amaze me how well it works, generally with the minimum of supervision. Brunning & Price has been true to this concept even with a food offer that is central to its trading philosophy. But it's a concept increasingly under attack, not just from the PC lobby but also from 'the enemy within', whereby perfectly good local boozers are transformed into gastro houses and the bar-fly is actively discouraged. Yes, you know who you are.

I think the point was best made by my experience the other day. I had occasion to visit my old newspaper stamping ground, Darlington. Sadly, it was a funeral that summoned me there. But afterwards in Number 22 Coniscliffe Road (twenty2villagebrewer.co.uk) - yes, the proper name of a truly admirable 13 pump cask-ale house, where people 'mingle' all day long, I coincidentally met both a former neighbour and an ex-colleague. I hadn't seen either of them for some twenty years, so we shared a quick pint at the bar. It was great, but something that probably would not have happened if we had been table bound.

That's what, in my view, pubs are all about, even though we might go for other reasons such as food and, of course, good ale and wine. It's what makes it very different to visiting a restaurant or sitting at home dining and drinking with friends.

I humbly suggest that those of us who wish to continue our celebration of the unique institution that is the British pub must line up at the bar to be counted here. In fact, I'm thinking of starting a campaign to nip it in the bud. How about a slogan along the lines of 'Real ale men get 'em down standing up'. What do you think? Any suggestions?