“It’s like something you’d see at a beer festival” Simon Cowell exclaims having watched Ashley Elliot perform in a Britain’s Got Talent semi-final.

No, Mr Cowell wasn’t watching ale guzzling slippers perform magic tricks or gravity defying beard-offs, but a seventeen year old teenager from Enniskillen who plays the xylophone.

To have young Ashley perform at a festival of any sort would be a treat (perhaps no headliner, but damn good at an impromptu jamming session with a harmonicist and a yukele player). His handiwork is fast and furious and, whilst not everyone’s cup of tea, David Walliams thought it was “pure joy”.

We tried Doncaster Beer Festival for a stag do a few weeks ago, and it was a success – they had an endless supply of comedy hats to choose from for the stag and plentiful supplies of beer. But a crazy xylophone player? Hell yeah, that would have added to the experience!

Cowell’s attitude perhaps shines a light on the perception of beer festivals. I doubt he’s a beer man let alone a cask ale drinker, but surely he’d be impressed with the folk bands at Norwich Town Hall, or the train shed at Haworth & Worth Valley, or the scale of Earls Court, or the uniforms at Brussels in September?

I guess there’s no pleasing some people…

We can understand why some beer festivals give off a bad impression, some are lots of fun, some are really not. What makes a good beer festival? Nothing but racks of cask ale and tasting notes or full on entertainment, food and activities? Good beer, good people? Let us know!

Cask ale only?

Fancy pant costumes?

Breadth of choice?

As the centenary of the ill-fated Titanic was justly commemorated around the country, my home town had more reason than most to reflect on the tragedy. And being a northern mill town, real ale naturally formed part of the process.

One of the most memorable of many poignant accounts from the final moments aboard is the solace eight musicians provided as they played on to the very last. Their valiant bandmaster was one Wallace Hartley, a man born and bred in Colne, Lancashire. He and his fellow players sadly perished but he has never been forgotten by generations of local folk.

Hartley has been honoured by a handsome headstone, commemorative plaques, street names and a bronze bust outside the church where he began his musical career. And a respectful beery nod was forthcoming in 2008 when Wetherspoons acquired the former King’s Head Hotel and christened it the Wallace Hartley.

And to mark the centenary in its inimitable fashion, the Wallace held a Maiden Voyage Beer Festival spanning the dates the Titanic was at sea a hundred years hence. On tap were a multitude of beers fittingly supplied by Titanic Brewery.

Titanic Beer Festival Colne

The first I sampled was one-off collaborative ale by Keith Bott from Titanic and Mark Szmaida of Chelsea Brewing, New York, evocatively named Ship of Dreams. This burnished copper brew was nicely balanced with hints of damson giving way to a sweet and nutty malt finish. I enjoyed it while digesting a felicitously ripping yarn in the form of Treasure Island.

The interior of the Wallace Hartley is bedecked with dark bevelled tiling, wood panelling and bespoke sculptures and paintings creating a tenebrous maritime theme. Characteristically large and open-plan spaces abound with more secluded nooks and crannies for a quieter pint also around.

During the festival most of the dozen hand-pumps carried Titanic beers, with a smattering of regulars and other breweries efforts in evidence. Just some of the themed ales on offer were Iceberg, Lifeboat, Steerage, Black Ice, English Glory, White Star and Nine Tenths Below.

Wetherspoons Colne

Treasured pint

Ship of Dreams

Titanic beer list

I’m a stickler for sampling new stuff where and whenever I can, so I’d previously tested all of these nautical tipples, but one in particular stood out for another slosh: Titanic’s Cappuccino. This potent stout had an über-rich coffee and vanilla nose that really intensified in the mouth. A deeply delicious drink worthy of any occasion.

Although not a beer festival in the traditional sense, this formed a fitting tribute to the Titanic and its heroic home-town band leader. Let’s raise a glass to Wallace!

The inaugural North Leeds Charity Beer Festival starts this weekend, in no small part thanks to the efforts of our friend and occasional Real Ale Review’s contributor Sam Parker, and beer writer Barrie Pepper.

There’ll be beers from breweries all over the region (Wharfebank, Kirkstall, Revolutions, Great Heck, Ilkley, Leeds, Roosters, Ridgeside and more) plus some from further afield including Brooklyn Brewery in New York.

We will hopefully see you there!

North Leeds Charity Beer Festival

Name: North Leeds Charity Beer Festival
Date: Friday 27th April & Saturday 28th April 2012
Time: Friday 18:00-23:00 & Saturday 12:00-22:00
Venue: St Aidan’s Church Community Hall, Off Elford Place West, Roundhay Road, Leeds, LS8 5QD

The smell of beer slopped on wooden tables, the glint of light in the top of the chalice, the sounds of a deck of cards and the clink of glasses.

I’m in a bar in the north country but my senses are across the sea and howling winds, in the bustle of a backstreet bar in Belgium.

Four pm on a sunny Friday, sampling the beers of the Low Countries in a bar in Leeds, dreaming of being back in Brussels, Bruges or even Amsterdam. Or those other low cities I’ve not yet visited – Antwerp, or Ghent.

It’s North’s Lowlands Bier Festival and the fridges are jam packed with beers across a spectrum of prices and slapstick names: ‘Willy’ and ‘Klap’ are both (hopefully) lost in translation.

Even though the light of day is starting to fade, a winter ale seems wrong in the mild climate, but Dutch beers are on tap and that doesn’t happen often in the north of England.

De Molen Klap van de Molen (Hit by the Mill) is a dark viscous affair to wrap up in, dominated by apple skin sweetness and too much spice. Suffice to say it packs a punch (and nothing more sinister).

It’s quickly turned into an impromptu meal – add a cheese and meat board: a spot of raisin and walnut bread, a few slices of salami and a wedge of cheese. Sticky raisins and beer, peppery salami, mellow cheese umami; the beer is a prickly Calpol food softener and suddenly my mind is back in Belgium, in the evening din of yet another backstreet bar surrounded by stemmed glasses of dark sweet liquid and rye heavy bread, thick yellow cheese and pink elephants on the walls…

A cheeky kriek freshens things up (that’s the great thing about Belgian beers) and the menu is open wide once again.

Tripels, bocks, IPAs, Trappists, English bitters. The festival is nothing short of testament to the diversity of modern lowland beer culture. Add some Jupiler and it’s got almost everything! There’s a lot to celebrate here and celebrate it we do. Plus there’s time for a quick half of North’s very own exclusive beer brewed by the managers: a rasping Roosters style bitter.

As the darkness of night approaches we’ve drunk these beers in a topsy turvy order, and if we get stuck to into many more of the myriad lowland biers on offers, topsy turvy is where our heads will be too.

Meat & cheese & beer & bread

North Bar Lowlands Bier Festival

The Klap (van de Molen!)

Bar from the north country

It’s not every day that you get the chance to try a beer that’s older than you are.

Last Saturday night I opened a bottle that was just that; I opened a beer that was older than me, so that’s over twenty five, give or take the odd ten years. In fact it was a lot older than me, more than twice my age.

It was brewed in 1929 in fact, so that’s 83 years old.

A mate of mine dabbles in buying and selling antiques and I got a call from him a while back…

“You like beer don’t you Gav?”
“Well, yes” I laughed.
“How long does beer last?” came the reply.
“Depends what it is” I say in return, “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve got a couple of bottles you might be interested in.”
“Go on.”
“It’s a bit old”
“How old?”
“1902 and 1929.”

I was silent for a second or two after that.

The beers my mate had come by were Bass King’s Ale (1902) and Bass Prince of Wales Brew (1929). I took a quick look at the bottles and, as he only wanted £30 for the pair, I snapped them up, for novelty reasons if nothing else.

A King and a Prince

Then along comes OpenIt! and I think, what about those Bass beers I’ve got, shall I open one of those? I council a few folks on twitter and by the end of the day I’ve decided I’m taking along the bottle of Prince of Wales Brew to OpenIt! at Mr Foley’s in Leeds. There’s plenty of other curious folks keen to try it too, most of them more beer geekish than I am.

And shortly after arriving the bottle is on to the table with a corkscrew, the remainder of the wax seal is removed and I’m plunging the corkscrew in. With a small lever part of the cork comes away – it’s a bit dried out as you’d expect –  and I need a different corkscrew to get a little more of the cork out and drill a little hole as its pretty stuck in there.

The empty glasses are thrust my way and everyone is keen to try. We all give it a sniff and look at each other slightly nervously. The aroma a little on the sour side but I’m getting a whiff of raisins and we wonder if the beer will taste as sour as it smells.

"Ich Dein" Bass 1929 Prince of Wales Ale

How many men does it take to open a beer?

The slow pour, and it's dripping tasty too!

Here goes!

I take a sip.

How does it taste?

Well it tastes alright considering its age. A nice fruity character. The next offering to my tongue is a good size and I’m getting an idea of the flavour now. I’m very pleasantly surprised, it’s a bit like like an amontillado sherry. It’s stunning that a beer that’s survived for 83 years untouched has this amount of flavour left in it. It’s not nasty at all and most of us are in agreement about this.

Of course I’ve no idea how it was supposed to taste (I’ve no idea what beer tasted like back in 1929 for that matter). Prince of Wales Brew was the second Bass beer with a royal connection after Bass King’s Ale was produced in 1902 for the coronation of Edward VII. I’m lead to believe that for Prince of Wales Brew the mash was started by Prince Edward, who later become Edward VIII of course, and sold for around £5 a bottle, a fair bit of wedge back in the day!

So was it worth opening? I took the remainder of the bottle home and then to the local the following day. There was a pretty mixed response from folks who where a little less beer geekish, some of disgust and some of surprise and intrigue. I’m with the latter crowd hence my curiosity to open it.

It’s just amazing to think that you’ve actually been drinking history. A beer that, given its royal connection and price, must have been been painstakingly crafted by Bass master brewers to brew a beer befitting a Prince. I feel very privileged to have been able to try and share it with friends. A great beer experience. I just wish, like most beers really, I could open it and enjoy the experience again.

The Prince of Wales feathers, which are also embossed on the bottle, bare the words ‘Ich Dien’, which means ‘I Serve’. This beer ‘Ich Dien’ with pleasure Your Royal Highness!

Victory! Eventually the cork is breached!

Pouring a bottle of beer older than me

Big thanks to Rick Furzer for organising the Open It session at Mr Foleys, and to Ghost Drinker for the lovely pics of the crew struggling to open the very old bottle of beer!

Over the last few months the Sainsbury’s Great British Beer Hunt has been taking place providing a welcome opportunity to try some different beers from the familiar supermarket shelves.

And in October Bad King John from Ridgeside Brewing was crowned winner of a six month national listing in 300 Sainsbury’s stores. Bad King John beat beers from around the UK to the throne via four regional heats (120 beers), a three week stint in Sainsbury’s stores (16 beers) and a grand judging final in London (final 8 beers). Spearheading the competition was Caesar Augustus by Williams Bros of Clackmannanshire which clinched a listing across 150 Sainsbury’s stores.

From ginger beer to wild hops...

...to all the great leaders?!

This year’s 16 finalists were:

Flying Dutchman Wit Bier, Caledonian Brewing Co, Alva, Scotland

Orange peel and a herbaceous twist make Flying Dutchman easy to identify. Intriguingly, caramel and liquorice offer something the average wit beer might not, and something syrupy-sweet mops everything up. An interesting start!

Golden Seahawk, Cotleigh Brewery, Somerset

An aroma of freshly cut garden weeds (those sticky buggers that find their way onto the bottom of shoes, gloves, the seat of your pants); flavours of wholesome cereal doused in honey. A nice golden ale.

Frederic’s Great British Ginger Beer, Frederic Robinson, Stockport

Perfect with fish and chips it says. Well I’m late home from work, sore from five a side and soaked through with autumn rain. The (award winning and only nearby late night) chippy was shutting but let me jump the chairs blocking the doorway to pick up fish cakes and scraps. Perhaps any beer would have done but Robinson’s Ginger Beer cut through the sweat of the chips like no other: spicy, tongue tingling and sweet. Still, I couldn’t help feeling I’d rather just have had a Ben Shaws…

Wild Hop IPA, Harviestoun Brewery, Clackmannanshire, Scotland

A beery lemon marmalade on just-golden toast, with a contradictory bitterness – sharp but simultaneously mellow. The hops might be wild but the beer isn’t: its gentile, moreish and gulp-able – beautiful with undercurrents of sex.  In a beery kinda way.

I lust this beer.

Full Bore, Hunter’s Brewery, Devon

A whopper at 8%, it’s a shame Full Bore smashes toffee and not a lot else at me (a left hook of honey perhaps?), thus feeling like an opportunity missed. But drunk after three other Sainsbury’s Beer Hunt beers it feels like I missed the opportunity to give it a fair crack of the whip. Now to find a bottle left on the shelves and give it a fair trial…

Two Hoots Golden Ale, Joseph Holt, Manchester

Through the clear bottles it’s a vibrant golden ale but poured and tasted it’s flat and sun kissed to the point of no return. Crystal malt is about the only flavour discernible behind disintegrated hops. Unfair to pass judgement except on the colour of the glass.

Stronghart, McMullen & Sons, Hertfordshire

Strong and ruby-tinted brown like creosote, Stronghart packs the a bitter punch and a wallop of brandy-seeped raisins. Sweet and tart like opulent plums and just a tad balsamic. Don’t let it knock you out – it’s strong enough to.

Bishop’s Farewell, Oakham Ales, Peterborough

All Oakham’s ales (that I’ve tried) are citrus influenced and this is no different. A decent beer to sup on an evening but nothing makes me want to wax lyrical on the joy on hops like some of Oakham’s ales do.

Churchill Ale, Oxfordshire Ales Ltd, Bicester

Toffee apple aroma introduces a strong malt backbone perfumed with citrus hops. Far from your typical strong IPA this is a gentle and very English pale ale. A soft spot for Churchill (because I used to work not far from them) was enough to make me go back twice for more, but the first bottle remained the best.

Ivanhoe, Ridgeway Brewing, South Oxfordshire

If the label takes you back in time then it’s a warning that pale ale in this context might mean ‘paler ale’ (compared to what was available in the days of Ivanhoe, anyway). Harvest fruits and English malt make for a pleasant beer drinking experience. We’d be lying if we said we bought it, we saved a few pounds by remembering this bottle.

Bad King John, Ridgeway Brewing, South Oxfordshire

Spent cocoa beans and a boozy Bailey’s aroma, perhaps a dash of vanilla. Dark, dry, sweet and roast: a cacophony of intriguing characteristics emerges from the depths of nowhere. Bad King John must have been a complicated fellow. Thick without cloying, the King has soul and a long bitter aftertaste. It’s Ivanhoe’s nemesis and it’s even more memorable.

Worcester Sorcerer, Sadler’s Ales, Stourbridge

Toffee apple and raisin nose, and smells just a little like my Burton Ale home brew. The flavours defy this initial bouquet, revealing a muskier side, molasses and burnt grain. Call it Worcestershire Sauceror and serve with roast dinner. Strangely likeable.

Caesar Augustus, Williams Brothers, Alloa, Scotland

Wowser. Now this is a good beer! Caesar’s honey gold complexion and medicinal Saazy nose tingles nerve endings (perhaps helped by 24 hours in the fridge the first sip hits my front molars with a scintillating pulse!). Caesar Augustus is boundlessly refreshing. An innovative lagered IPA? Come on, the result is a crisp and vibrant pilsner, surely? A joy to behold.

Profanity Stout, Williams Brothers, Alloa, Scotland

A vodka and vanilla nose, followed by reams of bitter Green & Blacks mellowed by a lingering smoked coffee bean dryness. Sophisticated but living on a thin line: its ABV may deceive you.

Golden Summer, Wold Top Brewery, Yorkshire

An old favourite from one of the most consistent brewers in Yorkshire. I tend to buy Wold Top’s beers from the most charming farm shop near Bradford, on the road between Halifax and Keighley, usually alongside strange vegetables and local cheese. Against The Grain was unremarkable to many, but as a gluten-free beers go I think it was a triumph. And Golden Summer is no different, on the face an unremarkable beer but it’s incredibly perfect in too many situations to be called average. As HopZine say, a great bridging beer, and in my mind eminently versatile. You can find grapefruit and lemon if you try, but it’s the cereal backbone that I love. A summer beer that genuinely shines.

Wye Not, Wye Valley Brewery, Herefordshire

…because the other beers are probably more enjoyable. Weighted in the favour of its malt ingredients, it never quite lives up to its biscuit billing. Should malt be your thing though, you could do much worse.

Bad King John, good 'king beer

And if we’d been picking the winner? Well Wold Top’s Golden Summer and Harviestoun’s Wild Hop IPA were stand outs, whilst Bad King John fought the corner of the darker beers and Stronghart offered something a bit different. But for sheer brazen excellence, Caesar Augustus provided the most enjoyment and refreshment. It’s exactly the sort of beer I’d pick up regularly in the supermarket, and for that reason, we’re firmly sold.

Topping a line up of strong leaders, Caesar Augustus

Saltaire Brewery’s annual two day beer festival is timed to coincide with the Saltaire Festival, a celebration of music, art, food and posh car boot sales in the remarkably pretty terraced village near Shipley, Yorkshire.

On the opening Friday night of 16th September 2011 the rain slanted down in true Yorkshire style but it didn’t put off hundreds of beer devotees from heading to the small brewery building next to the river Aire.

We showed our tickets and were handed a beer list along with a branded & lined pint glass. Upon first reading I could see a few typos and misplacements on the list, I thought – whoever wrote this up couldn’t organise a piss up in brewery – how wrong I was, literally!

Saltaire Brewery Elderflower Blonde - perfect summer quaffer

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It’s not every day a pop star can bob into the pub and order a pint of their own beer.

Although for most of October that’s exactly what Guy Garvey & co of the resurgent band Elbow will be able to do. From tomorrow, pubs across Manchester – and one in Oxfordshire – will be previewing their collaboration brew, a joint venture with Frederic Robinsons Brewery.

Build A Rocket Boys! beer

Build A Rocket Boys! is a real ale named after Elbow’s most recent album and not only that it’s one with a conscience: a significant proportion of all profits will be donated to Oxfam’s East Africa crisis.

The official launch is at Manchester Food & Drink festival (where you can also find mini festivals of real ale, whisky and Oktoberfest!), but if you can get to one of the preview pubs in and around the city between now and then you should be able to find the first casks ready and waiting.

And with such a lot going on at the festival, we’re off to book our train tickets across the Pennines.

See you there!

The wisteria in Chiswick is pretty old, even if it is a relative newcomer by London standards. As the river Thames snakes through the suburbs of west London – past the old cemetery, the botanical gardens at Kew and the brewery of Fuller Smith and Turner – this foreign import sits quietly, gracefully; boughs of improbable twists clambering around the architraves and balustrades of the pretty terraces that run both parallel and perpendicular to the curves of the river.

It’s at Fuller’s Brewery that the oldest wisteria in the UK calmly entwines its way around the Victorian buildings, defiantly taking hold of the old brew masters cottage, never to let go. For 180 years it’s bloomed twice yearly, a bounty of lilac blossom weighing on the strong yet vulnerable web of vines.

Fullers Wisteria: seen more brew days than the average climbing plant

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It was Mrs Theakston who coined the dream phrase “Black Sheep Brewery”, in a moment of pure and instinctive marketing genius.

It has everything: the tourism factor, rural charm, traditional appeal and just a dash (ok, a mighty big dollop) of implied family strife, backstabbing and conspiracy theory.

And there’s no doubt that the Masham Sheep Brewery was never going to have quite the same ring to it, was it?

The birth of the Black Sheep was the best part of 20 years ago and now the brewery stands proudly at the gateway to ancient Yorkshire market town of Masham, where it hides from view it’s Scottish & Newcastle owned rival, Theakston’s, the brewery which still bears the family name of Black Sheep founder Paul, husband of the woman who named his new venture back in the early 90s.

As the car bumps its way along the A1 to Masham, I’m unaware of Mrs Theakston’s role in the birth of Black Sheep’s brand identity, but I’m very aware of Black Sheep. My perception – a charming, rural, traditional brewery that make pleasant but unexciting beers. A brewery that adopts a bit too much humour from their ruminant mammal brand advocates for my liking.

Generally, I just see Black Sheep as a bit, well, sheepish.

I’m mulling over these perceptions and a recent discussion about innovation in beer as we sit down to start a 5 course beer and food pairing meal organised by Black Sheep at their Baar & Bistro, a notably modern and successful concept. 80 people are hunched over Welsh rarebit and Black Sheep Best Bitter, a simple and tasty dish to kick of the evening’s proceedings. Read the rest of this entry »