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 »

Every time I have Black Sheep I expect it to be darker, heavier and harder to drink than it really is – my perception really does do it a disservice.

Whether it’s the overly dark bottle or the simple yet foreboding label, I find myself pleasantly surprised at Black Sheep’s drinkability each time I drink it.

My misperception stems from having spent a couple of comedy nights necking bottles of this at Hifi in Leeds, a situation that quickly leads to bloating and an early retirement; to be sure this isn’t a beer for a long session or a night on the town.

However, out of the bottle and enjoyed at a gentler pace, Black Sheep is a deep, amber coloured ale, rich in both colour and  flavour, it’s body bittersweet as the label describes. It takes a few sips to accustom too, beyond which it can be sunk with an ease that creeps up on you. Within minutes it seemed my glass was dry, as was the bottle!

It’s difficult to describe the flavours of Black Sheep, so I might just say what it isn’t. It isn’t overpoweringly hoppy or malty, it doesn’t have a fruity edge or a tangy twist. It has an interesting aftertaste that can’t quite work out if it’s going to be sweet enough to send your taste buds into raptures or bitter enough to make you gasp for another sip immediately. At the same time this feeling isn’t harsh but gently crisp and completely satisfying. In the end you take another sip and another gulp without even realising, enthralled in it’s balanced body and lingering, malty finale.

Black Sheep is one of those beers that really is a “real ale”.It’s strength isn’t in outrageous ingredients nor pretentious marketing statements. Black Sheep is British ale as good as real ale gets – deep, mysterious and glorious in its simple yet rich aromas. There isn’t one overriding ingredient or flavour that defines Black Sheep, it is pure, balanced class, expertly crafted and a beer that Masham, Yorkshire, and the whole UK can truly be proud of.

Black Sheep Ale