London, March 2004 (page 7 of 8)
Beer
When we went to Portugal, we drank a lot of coffee. When we went to England, we drank a lot of beer. Although the food wasn’t spectacular, the British can claim to have one of the strongest beer traditions in the world. Being a bit of a beer connoisseur, I was pretty excited to hit the pubs.
Beer in England is not like beer in the states. Actually, it can be, but if you go to England to drink the same stuff you can get in bars here you’re really missing the point. The focus of England’s beer tradition is a sort of beer called real ale, or cask-conditioned ale. (Feel free to just skip the rest of this paragraph; I know I’m intolerable.) All beer undergoes two fermentations. Technically, real ale is ale (as opposed to lager, which really isn’t important right now) that has its second fermentation in the vessel from which it is served. Practically, this means that the unfinished beer leaves the brewery in casks, sits in the basement of the pub until it’s ready, and gets served directly from the
cask to your glass. It’s not filtered or pasteurized, which means that it has the potential for more interesting tastes than other beer. Unlike beer served from kegs, real ale has no added carbon dioxide. Also, it’s traditionally served at the ambient temperature of the cellar where it’s stored. This means that it’s slightly warmer and flatter than beer from a chilled keg, but much more flavorful.
Okay. Now that that’s over, I can get to the beer. I didn’t take tasting notes at the time, so I can only report impressions of what we drank. Before we left, I equipped myself with the CAMRA Good Beer Guide. CAMRA (Campaign for Real Ale) is an organization dedicated to preserving England’s beer culture from the onslaught of homogenized lagers. (Budweiser is a lager, as is Stella Artois.) I figured that if I was going to drink beer in England, I might as well do it right.
My first pint was not consumed at a CAMRA recommended pub. Our first afternoon in England we had lunch at a pub near our hotel called The Traveler’s Tavern. I had a pint of Courage Director’s along with a fisherman’s pie. The mushy carrots on the side confirmed that I was indeed in England, and that I should stick to beer.
My enthusiasm led us to a few pubs in London, but the best experience we had was on our second night. Since we weren’t going to the theater, we weren’t constrained by location. I dug into the guide and decided to hit a
pub called The Uxbridge Arms. Something that we noticed right away in London is that the clientele of British pubs is very different from that of American bars. People of all ages go to pubs in London, and they seem to go there to socialize as much as to drink. Most of the pubs we went to were pretty generic; I didn’t get a sense that there were regulars most of the time. The Uxbridge Arms was different.
The pub itself was two or three rooms with wood paneling, comfy chairs, and no music. It was very cozy, and when we went in it was clear that we were slightly out of place. All of the seats were taken, so we sidled up to the bar and ordered two pints of Fuller’s London Pride. A gentleman who appeared to be in his mid-fifties was drinking a beer and smoking right next to us. After we’d been there for ten minutes or so, he elbowed me and muttered something about non smokers and ashtrays. Over the course of the next few minutes, he said a great many things, very few of which I understood. I did understand that he was originally from Liverpool, and I knew in a way that I had never known before why people talk about Liverpudlians the way they do.
Fortunately, we were spared from incomprehension when another gentleman about the same age sat down and said to the barmaid, “I’ve been forced to drink wine all night and I hate it. I need a beer.” He picked up a bit of our conversation (more than I could, in any case), and proceeded to chat up the guy sitting next to us. (This is how I know he had not in fact had a stroke:
The other guy could understand him perfectly! It was like Beaker and Bunsen.) After the incomprehensible guy left, it became quite clear that the other fellow (who will now be referred to as “Alan” since that was his name) really just liked to talk. We had a wonderful conversation with him and his silent friend Dan who joined us half an hour later. One of the first things he asked was what we were drinking. I responded with pride that I was drinking real ale, and that I avoided lager and tried to get real ale when I could in the states. (Which is almost true; I’m drinking a Sam Adams as I write this, but I do generally prefer ales.) Alan told us about his time in the air force, his adventures on the Internet, things we should see in London, his lady friends who make him drink wine (I know! I thought the same thing. Lifelong bachelor. Infer what you will!), growing up in London, and the state of British beer, and the benefits of living near willow trees.
The Uxbridge Arms was our best pub experience by a long shot. We did visit one other pub from the guide, The Churchill Arms. It had WWII-era decor and a friendly staff, but was absolutely swamped the Tuesday night we visited.
I won’t bore you with the rest of the details, but I will give out some awards.
BEST BEER: Oakham Harlequin. It might be that my palate was honed in the Pacific Northwest, but I love hoppy beers. This seasonal was the hoppiest we had.
WORST BEER: Courage ESB. Watery and uninspiring.
MOST UNIQUE BEER: Fuller’s Honeydew. A beer brewed from organic malt and hops, with a touch of honey for flavor. I thought it was a nice, refreshing spring beer. Edie found the taste of honey overwhelming.
OTHER BEERS: (Just for the sake of posterity, the rest of the beers we tried.) Fuller’s ESB, Adnam’s Bitter, Thackston Bitter