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!

By heck! This weeks Desert Island features the co-founder and owner of Great Heck Brewing Company, from the little villiage of Great Heck, North Yorkshire. Heart-throb Denzil was born in Bradford in the golden summer of 1970. He says his journey into brewing began with a sip of Double Diamond at the breakfast table in Pateley Bridge three short years later, but unfortunately that put him off English Ale for approximately thirty years until his interest was rekindled towards the end of his “spectacularly successful motorcycle racing career”. (His words.)

Fellow tarmac God Jason Hall used to attend barbecues at Denzil’s sprawling estate in Great Heck and took his very nice home brewed ales with him. One balmy summer evening talk turned to what use could be put to the part of Denzil’s manorial holdings which was then used as a workshop for his fleet of state of the art racing motorcycles. “Let’s turn it into a brewery” quoth Denzil and within a few short years, in May 2008, this had come to pass.

Thankfully the disappointment engendered in the hard core of regional club road racing spectators by their idol’s disappearance from the scene has since been more than offset by the delight of those stalwarts who consumed the 435 batches of ale which were produced in the original Great Heck brewery before production was moved, in March 2012 to a new facility on the opposite side of the road.

“My only regret is that I didn’t realise how awesome I was sooner, ” says Denzil, modestly.

By heck! It

Jarl, just think cask

Denzil likes bikes

The Beers

Welcome Denzil! Tell us, which five beers would you want to have with you if you were stranded on a desert island, and why?
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Broody and brown, like blood-red soil on a wet day, four-year aged Pannepot is dragged out of the beer cupboard and into a glass like Jack Dee to an in-laws barbecue…

It simply doesn’t want to open (the journey back from Belgium wasn’t kind: a contemporary shot it’s load in the suitcase, drenching the stash of bottles and it’s still sticky and downtrodden) but eventually, after much gushing and fizzing, it acquiesces.

Perhaps it’s just the toll of it’s arrival here, but it looks weather beaten like it’s namesakes – a pannepot is a Flemish  fishing boat associated with the town of De Panne, near the French border, and the beer is a tribute to the fisherman that have enjoyed Flemish dark ales over many stormy years.

It’s tan head could easily be it’s fisherman’s beard, home to assorted aromas and flavours caught along the voyage: burnt raisins, sour figs and dry prunes, vanilla, anise, tobacco, brown sugar. Do caramelised chocolate bananas exist?

Pannepot is a smoking thurible of a beer; deep, complex, throat burning, incensed with mellow spices.

A treasure worth smuggling home, no matter how bumpy the seas.

De Struise Pannepot 2008

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!

Fiery Fred; anti-establishment, brazen, strong and mischievous to the end. Not at all like his namesake beer, but that’s ok, because it’s probably just the sort of pint a brash northern cricketer would enjoy, especially one who’d been named Pipe Smoker of the Year in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and seventy four.

Gruff toffee dominates the down to earth running order, but to spice things up there are hints of apple skins at silly mid on. A long persistent finish requires a long drawn out last gulp before clunking a foam-laced glass back on the beer mat ready for seconds.

No fuss, no frills, no nonsense, just malt and hops and god’s own water.

Fred Trueman Yorkshire Ale

Deep in a basement bar not far from Bohemia, the cerny pilsners of the brewery up the road changed my perception of lager. Sweet and rich but surprisingly light, they distributed refreshment and nutrition as if feeding me and five thousand other thirsty drinkers.

Meantime Union shares a similar contradiction. Broody and brown, this is is no pale bodied pushover. Lagered it is, and a tad metallic to boot, coupled with a dark caramel composition and a surprisingly roasted finish suggesting mustard seeds, honey-soaked biscuits and bitter Bourneville.

Union shares the creaminess of some of the golden pilsners that stole a march onn Vienna style lagers many years ago.

It’s enigmatic to say the least. Coloured like a bitter, tastes like a bitter, but brisker, bolder, livelier. It’s interesting, ebbing and flowing between it’s different elements, but it’s hard to see how it would fit into my everyday drinking.

Except for with pizza. Michael Jackson recommended amber beers with pizza and at a basic level this shares many facets – creamy texture, bitterness, effervescent, mouthfilling malt and sweet roasted finish.

So being under £2, being under 5%, and offering refreshment, intrigue and solace, this is one beer that will be on the shopping list alongside doughballs and garlic bread.

Caught my eye as I thought it was a football beer!

A Union of dark malt, pizza and beer. Mmm.

Vienna style beers have a special place in my heart as I once named a Vienna influenced beer. Thornbridge Equinox was a one off ‘Vienna IPA’, so a little different from the copper coloured lagers of continental Europe, but I only ever got to try one pint of it. I’d love to try it again one day!

Meet Tim O’Rourke, Master Brewer and all round beer expert. Tim has been brewing for over 30 years, having worked in International Breweries such as Bass (now Coors) and Courage (now Heineken) and more recently as a consultant. He works for microbreweries both in the UK and overseas and has set up breweries in Canada and the Falkland Islands, and is currently acting as a consultant and brand advisor to breweries in the UK, Ireland and Malaysia.

For the last ten years he has also been involved in providing technical education to the brewing industry, mainly on behalf of the Institute of Brewing and Distilling but also through his own company “The Brilliant Beer Company”. He was one of the founders of the Beer Academy and one of the core lecturers. He is passionate about good beer, and really enjoys passing his knowledge onto people not necessarily connected with the brewing industry.

In addition to all of the above he is also an auditor for Cask Marque, a beer journalist, and was a former technical editor for the Brewers Guardian. He continues to write and has published over 250 technical and educational articles.

Tim believes that brewing and beer should be fun and interesting. In Summer 2011 he organised the Great Baltic Adventure taking 14 different samples of cask Imperial Russian Stout by sailing ship from London to Saint Petersburg and then judging the beers to find the beer which best survived the journey and have it crowned as “ A Beer fit for an Empress”.

His mission in life is to prove that drinking beer is an enjoyable pastime and likes to share his enthusiasm with everyone but says that like all great things, beer has to sampled and enjoyed in moderation.

Tim on his adventure

Stouts set sail!

Imperial Stout list

1664 was a good year...

The Beers

Tim, welcome aboard our desert island. With your experience in sailing beers around the world we fear you may not be here long though! Whilst you are, which five beers will you be enjoying?
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There’s somthing rogueish (or childish?) about the collabroation between Neil Morrissey and Richard Fox – two middle edge men who found brewing instead of Harley Davidson’s and set about with a with new toys and a rekindled sixth form attitude.

And there’s something modern and well designed about the branding, even if it is a bit cosy and predictable and ‘marketing agency’ developed.

Blonde is the playful peer of Brunnette, cheeky takes on pale and amber ales.

Morrissey Fox Blonde

The former is a skinny beer perfumed with uncooked dough, and it’s smooth as silk as it coats upper lips around the bar with a (possibly) Cascadian caress. It’s an pleasant, if slightly banal first date.

Back at home a bottle has the same mellow tangerine tang that firmly plants this in session ale territory. Bitterness is minimal, the body is barely there, lager-like without the fizz – it’s just dry enough to demand the next quenching gulp of citrus scented liquid bread. Is it ever interesting enough to seduce though?

Love or loathe boys playing with their toys, Morrissey and Fox have cooked up a perfectly decent beer with perfectly contemporary branding for perfectly discerning pub goers. It’s all perfectly fine for a Saturday afternoon pint really.

It’s a good few months since we found this in a bottle, and quite a bit longer since on cask. We’ve not seen or heard anything since then, is a Strawberry Blonde on the cards or has this relationship hit the rocks?

It started with a shave; a proper one, with a Gillette and everything. Unkempt stubble removed, baby faced assassin revealed.

Then, Friday night, supermarket near work. Rain seeping from a pitch black sky. Wind billowing huncalife katalog through cable-knitted layers. Puddles underfoot and wiper blades on frenzy-mode.

The shopping list is simple: pizza, beer, home. Supermarket hunca life katalog time is kept to a minimum: in and out. Fast track tills. Self service.

And then, out of the blue, “Do you have any ID?”

A question that a decade ago hunca life my side-burned seventeen year old self dreaded, as I joined my contemporaries on the gauntlet of pubs, bars and clubs that made up an under age Friday night in market town Oxfordshire.

Dodging bouncers was our profession then, at 27 and 11/12s it seems I’ve merely exchanged hunca life burly men for ample checkout assistants.

So back to the lashing rain, water running across my smooth chin (the smoothest it’s been since I paid £5 for a fake college identification which still required begging to work); the smell of wet concrete, frenzied wipers, the 11 mile drive to a more price competitive supermarket, where a dash of common sense prevailed and I left with heavy bags: pizza, beer, cat litter, mushrooms, milk, rosé wine – and other victuals that a trip for just two things inevitably ends up becoming.

And the beers?

Old Empire, Old Peculiar, Old Speckled Hen and Old Thumper. 4 for £5. Just to prove a point.

…my true love gave to me a delicious homemade lasagne. It really was absolutely scrumptious, but not particularly in-keeping with the season.

So to accompany this feast and herald a climax to the Yuletide festivities, I brought a centuries old recipe back to life in the form of wassail.

This winter warmer is a heady concoction of dark ale and spices fortified with a splash of something a little stronger. It’s a bit like mulled wine for real men.

Various versions of this traditional English beverage are described, many based on cider, some on wine, others on ale. Many recipes involve mixing raw eggs with hot beer rendering a rather bizarre form of eggnog, but I fancied something a little more palatable.

Thankfully – and somewhat miraculously – I still had a third of a barrel of home-brewed stout left over from Christmas. The perfect base for my wassail was at hand!

Wassail and toast

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