Though now working at Leeds University, Simon still writes the Taverner column for the paper and in 2010 he won Best Writing in the UK Regional Press for his contribution to beer. It was an award which ultimately led to the deserved crown of Beer Writer of the Year, and the ominous duties of representing the beer industry (not to mention writing a speech for the following years awards do!)

In his spare time Simon follows both Leeds United and Oxford United fan and has recently penned his first book, The Great Leeds Pub Crawl, a ramble around the history and character of every type of pub the city has to offer.

Near the Negev Desert

Jaipur IPA

Pint of Landlord...

...just as good bottled

The Beers

Simon, welcome to the island! Which five beers will you be taking with you, and most importantly, why?

1. Greene King Strong Suffolk Ale (Suffolk, UK – 6%)
   “There may be some who wouldn’t touch anything from Greene King – and I certainly have issues with a company which has grown its business through buying up rivals and switching production wholesale to Bury St Edmunds. But this is a genuine classic, and is a genuine GK beer, a blend of an undistinguished pale ale with the super-strong Old 5X, which is matured for two years in giant wooden vessels in a dark corner of the brewery. Strong Suffolk has bags of firm, wine-like intense fruity flavour – and a rich, soothing refreshing nature.”
2. Timothy Taylor Landlord (Keighley, West Yorkshire – 4.3%)
   “I may suffer from a mild form of Tourette’s. The kind which often makes me say “”a pint of Landlord please”, whatever competing attractions are facing me across the bar. It’s a refreshing, earthy, fairly unsophisticated pint of perfect Yorkshire ale – and a classic whether in the bottle or the cask. And it’s a little tart, which may be why Madonna likes it so much.”
3. Budweiser Budvar (Czech Republic – 5%)
   “That two so vastly different products should carry the name “”Budweiser”" is a quirk of history, geography, commerce and law. No doubt the trade dispute between Czech Budvar and American Anheuser Busch – which rumbles periodically around the courtrooms of the world – has helped to keep Budvar in the public eye, and gained for them a ready sympathy which would not be afforded to, let’s say, Pilsner Urquell. But this Czech original lager would be the perfect pick-me-up after a long day building my log cabin in my new island home. Can I have a fridge please, too?”
4. Thornbridge Jaipur (Derbyshire, UK – 5.9%)
   “A desert island would be the perfect place to escape the swamp of learned debate and name-calling which surrounds the past, present and future of India Pale Ale. Sitting under my palm tree I could happily content myself with the thought that whether the recent crafty crop of new IPAs is faithful to the genre is an absolute irrelevance particularly when I am drinking this beautiful, tangy, passion fruity IPA from Thornbridge in Derbyshire.”
5. Liefman’s Kriek (UK – 4.3%)
   “I have a lager, an IPA, an easy-drinking bitter and a lovely strong English ale. So my final choice is something a little different – this sweet, intense cherry lambic from Belgium, which would offer colour and variety amid the intense boredom of island life.”

And which beer (of those selected) do you regard most highly?

“It would have to be the Strong Suffolk, simply because it is a beer for all occasions.  It would be as much at home in my cabin on a raw winter’s night as it would be beside my barbecue at the height of summer. If I could only take one beer, it would be this –  but I’d like rather a lot of it please.”

The Meal

You can also take one meal to go with your beers, what would it be?

“My meal is more of a last supper, and is so rich and full-flavoured that I would most likely pair it with the Strong Suffolk ale.

I’m a sucker for black pudding, so my starter would be a green salad in a mustardy dressing, dashed with slithers of smoked bacon, and maybe some chunks of grilled chicken – and three big fat juicy discs of fabulous black pudding. From Bury.

The main course would be a big smoked haddock fillet with creamy mashed potato and spinach, all topped with a runny poached egg – and perhaps a small drizzle of a thin, slightly cheesy sauce. A one-plate festival of colour and flavour.

I’m not big on desserts, but on my desert island my just desserts would be to indulge myself with something chocolatey, or an old-school crumble or toffee pudding. Mind you, after all that full-flavoured fish, maybe a palate-cleansing raspberry sorbet would be just what I need.

Cheese and biscuits would follow – Camembert, Stilton, Wensleydale, Castelo Branco and really mature Cheddar – plus a double espresso of heroic strength. Dark chocolate, and a long satisfied sleep.”

The Books

You might be waiting a long time on your lonesome on the desert island, so we will automatically allow you a few books to keep your mind busy. You can pick between two beer books and two tomes: ‘The Brewmaster’s Table: Discovering the Pleasures of Real Beer with Real Food’ by Garrett Oliver, or ‘Beer’ by Michael Jackson; plus The Bible, or another appropriate religious or philosophical work

“Beer by Michael Jackson”

And a non-beery book?

“I would like to give Stephen Hawking’s “Big Bang to Black Holes” another try. I lost patience with my own slowness when I tried to read it last time. The relative infinities of time with nothing to do on a desert island should afford me the space I need to plod my way through it again. And I’m told Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca is very good. I am 19 pages in and enjoying it so far; so that can be my non-philosophical pleasure.”

The record

You have a CD/mp3/long player but you can only take one album. Choose wisely!

“One record. This is perverse. I’d rather have three records and three beers.

“Clearly it is going to have to be a double album – though whichever I chose it would drive me nuts after hearing it, and nothing else – for months on end.

“So after debating the relative merits of The Turin Brakes, The Beatles, Steely Dan, Genesis, Pink Floyd, Everything But the Girl, LedZeppelin, Cat Stevens, U2, REM, Mike Oldfield, Muse – I have eventually settled on a great double live album which has the twin additional benefits that I was at the concert (so it will bring back great memories) and my son is pictured on the cover (albeit as part of the crowd shot). It is the Blur Live at Hyde Park 2009 album.”

(And that’s two albums!)

The Luxury Item

And finally, what luxury item would help make your stay on the island bearable?

“Kate Beckinsale” (We thought you wanted a fridge Simon?!)

Thanks Simon! You can read Simon’s weekly Taverner column online and in the Yorkshire Evening Post. His book ‘The Great Leeds Pub Crawl’ is available on Amazon.

Have you tried Simon’ favourite beers? Let us know and many thanks to him for taking part and being our castaway for the week.
This article syndicated with All Gates Brewery blog as part of our Desert Island Beers collaboration.

Out the other side of the town the road befriends the trajectory of the River Ryburn as it steers through the steep wooded valley, roaming towards the Calder. The Triangle public house, in the tiny village of Triangle, is boarded up, not the first dead watering hole on the winding roads that lead to the quiet, charming town of Ripponden.

At Ripponden, about as remote an urban centre you can get in the sprawl of West Yorkshire, time blends from 1970s into the eighteenth century in the shadow of the Victorian church. A few footsteps further on the day retreats to nearer the 1670s as a cold breeze rustles across the cobbles of the ancient humpbacked bridge that leads to a quiet, unassuming public house.

Packhorse bridge and Old Bridge Inn Ripponden

The Old Bridge deserves its name. The bridge from which it takes its name, just like the church whose shadow it lies in, has been rebuilt many times since the first packhorse crossing. The pub is as old, over 700 years as the oldest records attest too. In the 14th century the town were not even on the first of their four churches that the river or weather has razed along the way. Old broom, new handles, new brushes.

The Ryburn runs straight and narrow under the ancient structure, the pub nestles on the northern side, resplendent in bright white wash. Warm fires, real ale, fine dining, but with not an ounce of pretension. The Old Bridge is family run, locally revered, bustling with merry drinkers around the bar and belly-patting diners, content and perhaps a little dozy.

Since 1307 similar scenes may have been played out in this hidden pocket of hostelry. On the main York to Chester road, journey-worn travellers would have put their feet up here, may have knocked back unfussy ale and unfussy food, stocking up  on victuals and sleep. Curled up in a window nook in 2012 the beer is a little brighter and food is a little more fussy (but excellent) – scallops with parsnip puree, mackerel pate, sea bass with chorizo, crisp and luscious belly pork.

Bowed by time, oak beams run low in the sitting rooms either side of the cheery communal bar, warmed by fires or stoves and sitting under a cockeyed triangular roof that’s seen seven centuries of welcomes and goodbyes.

The river barely flows. A tear drop on the neck of a window box daffodil is frozen in the crisp Sunday air. Under these bows, between mahogany panelled walls, Airedale Valley Bitter meets chocolate orange brownie (scrumptious), and like that droplet, we’re immovable, resolved to enjoy the slowness with which two hours lumber by.

One hundred and twenty minutes. But a tiny percentage of the years and patrons that the Old Bridge has watched over in its lifetime.

A pint of AVB

Yorkshires Oldest Pub

Fine, fine food

The ancient roof

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

Nothing made going there enjoyable. Defeat hung in the air, fighting for headroom amongst depression and drink problems. The lights and jingles from the slots an unnerving theme tune to a nicotine stained prison.

Unfair perhaps, as I only ventured there a handful of times in the four years it competed to be my local. The Commercial that overlooks the same t-junction was a lively, friendlier place to spend time. (It was easy to choose Carling and karaoke at The Commerical over empirical research into a less salubrious side of pub going at The White Horse. And a cheerful bar manager helped too). Not that karaoke would have helped The White Horse survive.

Now the wooden boards are down from the windows, light once more hits the columns that used to block the view of the bar. It’s a Friday night and The White Horse is heaving again.

The mucky sign still hangs over the door, but it no longer lead to sticky carpets and dingy rooms. Instead the building is refreshed as a family run Italian restaurant, bustling with chatter and brimming with customers.

White walls are banded with travertine tiles, not a yellow stain in sight. Decaying lounge furniture is long gone in place of treated wooden tables and chairs with intricate iron cast finishing. Immaculate floors, a wood burning stove, walls covered in frames of family snaps, all the family, and it’s a big family, celebrating their communal efforts. The kitchen, somewhat oddly, looks out onto the street, as pizza bases fly in the air and vegetables disappear under the knife.

But it’s the noise and smell that have changed the most. The vibrancy of cooking rushes through what was a dank and musty chamber. The clatter, clash and splash of pans; a symphony of oil, ingredients, spice and chefs gesticulations; even the lick of a flame, silent but somehow resonating aurally – wispy and crackling against metal.

And cook these guys can. Chorizo – with those fatty bits that perturb me and my mediocre flash frying skills – is no trouble for the chefs at Kasa Rosa, and served with garden peas and shallots the salty meat lifts penne pasta and a tomato sauce from something you could attempt at home to something there’s no point trying.

What more could you want from a local restaurant?

And what more could you want from a broken and finished pub building, long since a lost cause to the local community?

A better pub in its place perhaps? Of course, but on this occasion I, along with many other local people, am counting my blessings.

My first find was at the Narrow Boat in Skipton, a fantastic backwater pub with a cracking reputation and repertoire of real ales and foreign beers. Nestled amongst a typically eclectic mix was Wentworth’s Medium Chilli & Chocolate Stout (4.8%). The dusky half pint certainly lived up to its billing. A rich coffee and chocolate aroma persisted after the initial sip oozing into a silky palate. With perfect punctuality a fiery crescendo kicked in and lingered through the finish; a great counterbalance to the soft cocoa foundation. An explosion of taste and just up my street!

The Narrow Boat Skipton by Bob W

A few days later I found myself in Bury for lunch. This good-sized town just north of Manchester is famous for its fish market, but it also has a peppering of top-notch real ale outlets if you know where to look. One such place is Malt Bar at The Met (which also plays host to the enticing Bury Beer Festival in November). Despite being quite a classy modern cafe bar it always serves a few cask beers, usually from Outstanding Brewery with occasional guests. This was my lucky day as they had another Wentworth special on tap: Vanilla & Almond Stout (4.8%). A faint whiff of vanilla guided me into a maelstrom of sour cherries, dark fruits and berries riding on an undercurrent of mild bitterness. I was just beginning to wonder where the almond was lurking when it caught me by surprise in a delectable marzipan finish. Well-crafted with a powerful yet nicely balanced punch. Mmmm….

Peculiar and flavourful craft brews are growing in popularity and are well worth sampling if you get a chance, if only to illustrate just how different quality real ales can be. I’ll certainly be on the lookout for more weird and wonderful stouts while the season lasts!

Wentworth Chilli and Chocolate Stout

Wentworth Vanilla and Almond

Spurn Point (or Spurn Head for many) is a sand bar that has been precariously edging it’s way westwards over the last millennium of geological time as the sea plays out its role of destroyer and replenisher in equal measure (Spurn currently aims its point towards the revellers of Cleethorpes and the fishing boats of Grimsby, but has had 5 different versions of itself in the last 1000 years as the tides have breached it and rebuilt it time after time).

Brooding skies and dull tinted flora reflect the eeriness of this surreal spur set perpetually to a state of precarious balance, a place demanding reflection, that screams silently, in the same way as Munch’s famous frozen moment of fear, of solitude. It’s not a place you’d expect to find myriad good pubs, but then this windy forgotten corner of Yorkshire is exactly the type of place where a haven from the North Sea weather is required.

There’s nothing near a gale blowing as we duck through the doors of the Crown & Anchor, but even from the chilly grasp of the sea air the warmth and homeliness of the pub is a welcome respite.

The patrons are smiling, chatting, eating, drinking. It’s a Bank Holiday Sunday and roast dinners decorate most tables. The bar has a bar, the table legs are old Singers, the mahogany chairs carved in a village pub style that suggests that the beer will arrive in dimpled glasses (it doesn’t, strangely).

The open brick fireplace is laden with 70s chick lit (£1 per book to help the local hospital cancer ward), the tableclothless tables reminiscent of a small English tea shop – but here beer mats replace carefully folded serviette swans, and everyone looks out across the polished stone window ledges towards the murky force of the Humber urgently pushing east to meet the sea.

£5 guarantees a glass of rosé and a perfect half pint of Timothy Taylors Landlord, the latter laced with a perfect marmalade bitterness to lose ten minutes with.

The views aren’t sublime, but they are captivating, the pub isn’t extravagant but it’s satisfying. Waves and wind batter the coast road, but inside the pub calm and contentment rules.

Nature will no doubt win the war at Spurn Point, but for now the local pub is putting up a pretty good fight against the best the whims and tantrums of the elements.

Spurn Point and the North Sea

Crown & Anchor, Kilnsea, Spurn Point

Spurn Point lighthouse

I’ve been to Dent only once, on a whistle stop weekend to the North Yorkshire Dales. It’s a living breathing Warburton’s ad, except Land Rovers rumble and bumble (depending on the age of their reg plate) across cobbles where flat-capped knee-socked boys should be cycling home, peddling against gravity and the extra weight of bakers fresh, crusty loaves.

I’d always assumed it was a forgotten Yorkshire village, one of those quaint border settlements that nonchalantly gets on with life amidst the whims of policy makers and county councils who can’t decide exactly which authority should be organising the bin rounds.

Dent Rescewe - premium bitter raising money for the Cave Rescue Organisation in the Yorkshire Dales

Dent Rescewe was picked up on the way home from a separate excursion to the North Yorkshire Dales, saved from the shelves of Booths, arguably the supermarket with not only the best regional selection of beer, but the best beer aisles full stop.

This bottle is a re-brand of their premium bitter, created to support the Cave Rescue Organisation in the Yorkshire Dales, so we excuse the pun in the name on the grounds of good cause.

Rescewe immediately consolidates it’s description with it’s deep copper colour laced with a thin head of swirling bubbles. A caramelised nose, gentle bitterness and lasting mineral dryness mean it’s best described as a perfectly good (but perfectly interchangeable) bitter. The key note speakers are earthy hops and malt roasted beyond pale, influences that impart faint traces of fruit, toffee, farmhouse kitchen and rural elbow grease.

Don’t expect anything but a beer for a local pub; a beer that is adequate refreshment for a days labour or a mornings Dale walking or an afternoon of sightseeing; drunk seated on a wooden bench in a pub no more than a cobble stone’s throw from the spring where Dent source their brewing water, and within earshot of the sheepdogs and rattling bicycles (or Land Rovers) outside.

Beer information:
Beer: Rescewe
Brewery: Dent
Style: Bitter
ABV: 4.2%
Country: Cumbria, UK

Yorkshire village pub by www.graphicalstatus.com

Time flies in the beer houses of Kingston-upon-Hull, where Yorkshiremen plotted against King Charles; studs fly in the grand hotels of Huddersfield where the North plotted against the Rugby Union.

In Halifax they have long memories, just ask The Running Man. In York they never forget, Guy Fawkes will tell you that.

In Sheffield they have an island for their beer, in Swaledale they make you climb a thousand feet for a pint (you might even have to do the washing up if you’re lucky!)

From the gastro pubs of Ilkley to the cove-view nooks of Robin Hood’s Bay; from the alleyway drinking dens of Leeds, to the walkers respites littering Garsdale, Wensleydale, Dentdale, Ribblesdale, Malhamdale, Nidderdale…

The Grove Inn, Leeds - surviving against the odds

Whitelocks, Briggate - the alleys where Loiners get their name

Station Inn, Ribblehead - take a map and a train timetable!

Yorkshire is blessed with pubs, nearly 10% of all the public houses in Britain. Some good, some bad, each and everyone someone’s favourite. All 5,115 of them.

What better way to spend the Bank Holiday than oiling your discourse down the local, or heeding Milton Crawford and taking a  moment to reflect on life. And when your done, you can vote for your favourite Yorkshire pub at Yorkshire.com/pub

"Yorkshire, Yorkshire!!"

There are 54,000 pubs in Britain and 5,115 pubs in Yorkshire. Ish. Thanks to the border hungry constituency of Brigg & Goole which straddles both the East Riding of Yorkshire and the northern climes of Lincolnshire we’ve had to apply some educated guesswork to the final tally. Thanks to the CAMRA press team and the British Beer & Pub Association for help locating the raw data. And thanks to Dan Cohen, John FotoHouse and Rick Harrison for the pics!

Pulling up outside what looked like just another house in the sleepy village of Great Heck, with the odd glance from a passing “local”, my beer companion and I had arrived, not knowing what to expect, on the dot of 07:15 for the start of our days brewing.

Denzil greeted us more like long lost friends rather than mere “internet acquaintances” and was obviously more used to getting up at dawn’s crack as he had already got the hot water tank up to temperature and had his brewing sheet in hand ready to guide us through the process of brewing Heck’s Angel, a golden ale normally around 3.9%.

Great Heck Brewery

Great Heck Brewery was founded by Denzil and his former business partner and home brew enthusiast Jason Hall in 2008 after meeting at a motorbike road racing club in Driffield. One beer led to another and Jason commented that if Denzil ever stopped racing bikes, the shed where he kept them would make a perfect microbrewery. He did and it does and that they say is history. The shed now contains a four British Brewers Barrel (BBL¹) microbrewery with a 12 BBL per week capacity alongside a cask washer and hand basin with a mezzanine floor above storing malt and hops. There is room enough for the empty casks to be stored in the gated yard and a room in Denzil’s house (attached to the shed) is now the cask cold store.

Our first task of the day was to measure out the malt ready for mashing. Not a hard task you’d think, weighing quality Fawcett malt and dropping it into a hopper to be gravity fed into the mash tun. It wasn’t – except for the part where my sylphlike figure had to climb a rickety ladder and squeeze into the malt store! That aside, it took longer for Denzil to give us his health & safety lecture (“….it’s much cheaper for me to kill you than pay out on a claim….”) than it did to do the task so now on to add this to the mash tun. For the uninitiated the mash tun is where the milled grain (or malt) is dropped into hot water to create what brewers call a cereal mash (this is where you find out brewers can never just call something what it is!!). All mashed in it was then, appropriately, time for breakfast.

Now those of you that already know Denzil know that he is a very hospitable fellow, his daughter and dogs certainly follow his example, but not many people know he is also a gourmand, great cook and to my beer companion and my delight is a great ambassador for “proper” food (non-supermarket meat, fresh vegetables, farm eggs etc) so to have him cook you breakfast is quite a treat. Pancakes were on the menu this morning and as we awaited these light, perfectly circular creations we were entertained by Miss Lucy Vallance, not 6 but nearly 7. School soon beckoned and our early morning break was over, back now to deal with the lautering and a process known as sparging.

Lautering is a process in which the sugar rich water is strained through the bottom of the mash after the temperature of the mash has been raised to around 75 degrees C and additional water is sprinkled on the grains to extract extra sugars (called sparging). This is not a very labour intensive process so we can get on with measuring out the hops for use in the next process – which once again means a death defying trip up the ladder of doom.

Once there it is clear that hops and the natural taste and aroma processes of brewing are a great passion of Denzil’s, some may mistake that for being a taste snob but I for one think that is a prerequisite of any successful brewer. I am told by my brewing friends that Cascade hops (created by Americans in the 1950’s by crossing English Fuggles and a Russian strain and grown in Washington State) are among the best quality available and are now more accessible than ever due to the market collapsing – a fall of nearly £20 a kilo created when the Belgian/Brazilian brewing giant InBev took over the company that owned Budweiser, Anheuser-Busch.

Combining Cascades to perfume Heck's Angel

Inside Great Heck Brewery...

We were to finish off last season’s batch of Cascade and combine it with this season’s batch – a much anticipated moment in the Vallance household. It is at this point that you realise a craft product is just so, crafted and not mass-produced or modified to create a homogeneous outcome. Last season’s hops were bitter, musty, green and a little earthy on the nose yet this season’s hops, opened with great trepidation by Denzil, were magnificent, fresh with a punch of bitterness. I am reliably informed by a smiling Denzil these are the best yet! We measured these into 3 batches for the triple hopping process we were to complete later on. Now back to the sparging…

At this point the liquid is known as wort and is now being added into the next vessel, the copper, where we will add the selected hops at 3 different stages (for bittering and aroma). My beer companion and I are now the chief supervisors of this vessel to ensure it fills correctly and after our keen eyes avert certain disaster it is brought to the boil where the first batch of hops are added and the copper closed.

The brewery, although far from other great monoliths of manufacture does reside next to the village pub, The Bay Horse. A respite for weary brewery workers and an obvious choice for lunch where a text or two earlier had reserved us three pints and three pies and as requested said pints were on the bar for us at 12pm sharp and the homemade steak pies were brought out shortly thereafter. This charming, beamed establishment complete with horse brasses and various artefacts converted numerous years ago from three cottages does a good line in home cooked fayre (my beer companion is still recounting tales about the succulent steak and a gravy boat that had certainly never seen a granule). Indeed I know of a certain Doncaster verger who makes a near weekly pilgrimage for Sunday lunch at The Bay Horse! Today the food is perfect for three weary brewers, if slightly let down today by the rather bland Old Mill Bitter. But no chance to chew the fat on that one though as we had to dash back to the brewery to ensure our boil was behaving itself.

Expertly timed (or caught in the nick of time?!) we were back to adding another batch of hops and ensuring the general cleanliness of the brew shed. This is vital as unlike microbrewers that have two separate rooms for the pre- and post-fermentation process, Denzil likes to keep the process simple with one open room keeping everything clean and sterile at all times. A harder task you may say but one Denzil is very diligent at, ensuring the highest of hygiene standards at all times.

Time now for my beer companion to add the last of the hop batches for aroma before the hopped wort clarifies and can be moved on to the next process. The wort is then transferred to the fermenting vessel through a heat exchanger to rapidly cool it to a temperature where the yeast can be safely added (heat kills yeast) – a job the liquid does itself with the help of a pump so the clean up process can begin in earnest.

Laying the hopped wort to ferment and become beer in the fermenting vessels

It was at this stage where three things came to light. The first being the novice nature of yours truly in not thinking through the process fully so therefore not wearing wellington boots. After deciding my “beer writer shoes” were ok to get wet we avoided a Withnail and I excursion for good quality rubber boots and my beer companion forgave me as he had just bought some new trainers anyway. The second being the complete lack (or at least for some number of years) of any physical labour ever being carried out by myself and my beer companion … cue wild laughing by Denzil as we tried to dig out the mash tun). Lastly being the fantastic “open house” way in which Denzil operates. Neighbours picking Lucy up from school, friendly postmen letting themselves in and Calor gas men dropping bottles off and not wanting to disturb Denzil about payment when he is busy brewing (“pay me next time”) – a lesson in trust and manners we could all learn from.

Adding the yeast (not from his own strain but new every time) and finishing the clean up, Denzil muses on his possible expansion plans with an offer already close on a neighbouring property so he can get his house back or at least put the infrastructure in for a small visitors centre and letting on that he would eventually love another brewery tap, this time in Leeds. My beer companion and I look back at a day well spent with an inspirational and enthusiastic brewer who has again awoken my passion for opening my own microbrewery.

And what of “our” Heck’s Angel? Well I can tell you hot off the presses that after taking a packaging sample Denzil informs me it is “the best yet”!!

The final act in this well spent day is a trip to Denzil’s current brewery tap, The Bull & Fairhouse in Wakefield city centre, by way of a lift from Denzil that has taken him far out of his way. We were able to toast his continued success with a pint of his Golden Bull, homage to his favourite White Lion beer from Bob’s Brewing Company (also available at the same bar). A pale and flowery lager style beer made with those Cascade hops. All I can say is the fact that we were still there a number of hours later on a day that started around 06:00 should speak volumes to you.

Thanks then to Sourced Market at St Pancras International. Hardly a backwater I know, and not somewhere the punters in Waits’ song would recognise, but the level of choice for this thirsty jackaroo was more than impressive.

Pricky Back Otchan (prickly-backed urchin) by Great Newsome

Racked up in a tall cabinet opposite expensive sounding claret, are the ales. There is a broad farmhouse style table for tasting on the spot if you can’t wait to get home, or you can take away. Not wanting to upset Mrs B I went for the latter option, and chose a couple of the guest ales – a smart promotion for the Great Newsome Brewery up at Winstead, Hull.

Pricky Back Otchan (you’ll need a translator for that one) is a sweet amber bitter with enough hop to make it a fanciable session beer and, at 4.2% ABV, it has a roundness and complexity to keep you guessing. Hints of citrus but without ruining what I found to be a solid enough brew. It went well with pasta and chicken pesto but I would imagine deep chunky casseroles would be the best match. A nice alternative to Shepherd Neame’s Late Red of which I’ve been chewing down recently.

Less Yorkshire - English translation required: Frothingham Best

I also grabbed a Frothingham Best (4.3% ABV) before the next load of tourists disgorged from the mouth of the Eurostar. This is a good beer – a best bitter no doubt, but with the Pilgrim hops you get a spicy, hoppy dry finish, not unlike Youngs St George’s Ale. Darker in colour than Pricky Back, Frothingham would make a good winter beer and would sit just right with a mountain of chilli or strong English cheese (or if you’re a greedy fat pig like me – both).

Price, of course, is an issue here. You won’t be paying supermarket prices for these beers, but then you’re not in a supermarket, you’re in a fancy train station in the heart of the capital. Prices range, but hover around the £2.50 to £3 mark. It’s a lot considering Lidl regularly do decent guests ales for £1.25 a bottle, but for this jackaroo it beat the hell out of cheap machine coffee.

Beer shop information:
Shop: Sourced Market
Location: St Pancras International Station, London
Website: www.sourcedmarket.com

Beer information:
Beer: Pricky Back Otchan / Frothingham Best
Brewery: Great Newsome Brewery
Style: Bitter
ABV: 4.2% / 4.3%
Country: Scotland (and Denmark)