Winter, warmer (3)

This is the third of three posts about this year’s Winter Warmer Wander, CAMRA’s annual celebration of strong ‘winter’ beers. This one covers two trips – one to Cheadle and Cheadle Hulme, the other to Stalybridge – and ends with a round-up.

I always welcome the opportunity of a beer-ticking trip to Stalybridge, as much for the bars I visit along the way as for the inevitable last stop, the Buffet Bar. As I usually do these days, I started at Droylsden’s Silly Country, where – to my surprise – no qualifying beers were to be had. I had a half of something pale (Millstone Citra to be precise) and was given a sticker, but it was a bit of a disappointing start to the trip.

I got off the tram again a few stops down to visit the Sheldon Arms: a new pub to me, although not one I’ll be rushing back to. It’s a J.W. Lees house and a “modern restaurant pub” (WhatPub), and you can find it between a garden centre and a Travelodge in an otherwise deserted area about a mile outside Ashton-under-Lyne. Unlike the urban wasteland surrounding it, it was absolutely buzzing – although (at least on that lunchtime) it wasn’t at all clear to me that it was a “restaurant pub“, as opposed to a restaurant with beers on the bar. I stood at the said bar, thereby taking the count of non-seated punters up to 1, and got through a (rather nice) half of Plum Pudding as quickly as I reasonably could.

In Ashton itself I headed for  Tapster’s, where I had the usual, curious sensation of being transported to a high-end rock club, at about 2.30 a.m., on a weeknight, in 1982. No accounting for tastes – and their judgment where beer’s concerned is pretty good, as they serve Bridge beers from Staly ditto. The Dark Matter vanilla stout was pretty good, and would have been even better if I liked vanilla stout.

It was all getting a bit nearly-but-not-quite; fortunately, things looked up a bit when I hit the covered market for my usual lunch (one small pork pie, one cheese and onion pie), and looked up further when I got to Stalybridge. The Society Rooms (JDW) had nothing travelling as a stout, porter or old ale, but did have Bradfield Farmers Belgian Blue. I’m still not entirely sure what kind of beer this is – and what’s Belgian about it – but it’s marketed as a ‘Christmas’ beer; more to the point, it’s dark, malty and fruity, and really rather good. No problem here (or anywhere else so far) with stickers. In fact they may have been erring on the side of liberality on that front; I had a brief chat with a fellow collector, who was evidently completing his friend’s sheet as well as his own, as he’d collected two stickers for two pints. Both pints were pale, though, and I’m pretty sure one of them was lager. (To be fair, the less fizzy one could have been Coach House‘s ‘cranberry pale’, which they also had on; I guess that would qualify as seasonal.)

There were no stickers at Bridge Beers, just a natty rubber stamp; I don’t know if this is because they’d run out of stickers or if the rubber stamp is just their thing. They certainly do things differently at Bridge Beers; they were still operating the system of “listing all [the] draught beers on the blackboard whether they’re available or not, and having a bartender tell each customer in turn which ones are on” which I commented on in June. It’s a shame the cherry stout was in the “not on” half of the board, but Dark Matter on gravity was at least as good as it had been on hand pull, and a collection of SPBW newsletters passed the time nicely.

And so to the Buffet Bar, where I had a half of Titanic Plum Porter Reserve (see previous posts) and followed it with a third of something very silly indeed, particularly at this end of the trip: Vocation May Contain Sixpence, a ‘Christmas pudding imperial stout’ at a no-messing 12.5%. No stickers here either, although in this case I’m pretty sure they will have run out. Still one of my favourite venues, even when it’s busy with the pre-Christmas crowd – but then, a 12.5% stout has a knack of making the rest of the world go away.

Another trip out – heading South rather than East – took me to the Church Inn, a Robinson’s pub on the road out of Cheadle Hulme, heading towards Bramhall. This was a very different pub, in a very different area, from the Sheldon Arms, but they had one thing in common: a laserlike focus on the dining trade, resulting in a complete lack of seating for the non-dining drinker. (WhatPub: “The rear of the lounge is where excellent food is served”. And the rest (of the pub)!) On the plus side, they served a very nice half of (sparkled) Old Tom, even if I didn’t feel able to linger over it as long as I’d have liked.

I got the bus back into Cheadle Hulme proper, got a sandwich (from Waitrose, where else?) and promptly discovered not one but two of my new favourite bars. Archive was empty but had quite a nice vibe to it nevertheless; lots of greebling. They also had Titanic Plum Porter Reserve on the bar and… wait just a minute… RedWillow Festive Treat on the bar next to it. I had never heard of RedWillow Festive Treat, and was somewhat inclined to disapprove of it on the grounds of the terrible name – they surely haven’t run out of “-less”es? But I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at a 5.5% old ale from RW; and, sure enough, it was terrific.

The Chiverton Tap, a couple of doors down, was more austere in terms of decor but had regulars drifting in and out the whole time I was there, which made it rather a good place to linger over a beer; atmosphere’s what you make it, I guess. The beer in question took a bit of lingering, as it was RedWillow Blueberry, Maple and Pecan Stout (8.4%). I’m not saying RedWillow can do no wrong, but their pre-Christmas offer to bars in Cheadle Hulme was pretty much impeccable.

But I couldn’t stay in the Chiverton Tap all afternoon – not even after I’d had a chat with one of the regulars and worked out for myself where the loos are; not even with an 11% Trium imperial stout on the bar; I had stickers to collect, and miles to go etc. The bus took me back to Cheadle and the Red Lion, a Robinson’s house but not one of those serving Old Tom. Still, that was probably just as well after what I’d had already – and it gave me a chance to try Tom and Berry, which was rather fruit-cordial-ish but basically fine.

For my final half and – drum roll please – my 36th bar, it was down the road to the Wobbly Stamp. The qualifying beer here was our old friend Titanic Plum Porter, which I think I like a bit better than the ‘reserve’ version. I considered having a half of something else to celebrate finishing the Wander, but couldn’t see anything on the bar I fancied; a bottle of something Belgian, which to be fair was also an option, would have been a bit OTT on the alcohol front. So in the end I just went home. Note to self: future route end Chiv Tap.

11 pubs/bars, 10 qualifying beers, 9 stickers, one signature and one rubber stamp (two white, seven blue and two gold); two stouts, two porters, two old ales and three ‘Christmas’ beers. For the Wander as a whole, I’ve had eight stouts, ten porters, three old ales and three ‘Christmas’ beers. Like the first two, this third leg saw a really gratifying level of availability of stickers and (more importantly) of qualifying beers.

Actually doing the Wander was a reasonably pleasant experience this year (the bits between beers, I mean). I still think the pre-Christmas pub trade doesn’t really need CAMRA’s help (might there be any mileage in moving the WWW to January?), but this time round most places were pleasantly busy rather than rammed; certainly nowhere had anything like the scrum I experienced at the Friendship a few years back. The three-tier sticker system was a bit of a pain when it came to planning routes; still, it did the job of getting me to pubs I’d never visited before, particularly together with the (very welcome) involvement of Holt’s and Lees’. Other than that – and chalking up my non-visit to the Blossoms to experience – I’d only point to only one negative: dining pubs. In three separate places (viz Stockport, Cheadle Hulme and Ashton) I walked into a pub to find that provision for anyone looking for a drink was limited to non-existent. There’s no law against pubs focusing on food to the extent of not having any space dedicated to wet trade during food service, even at the front of the bar; doubtless for some it will make good business sense. But I don’t think those pubs should be enrolled in what’s basically a pub crawl – and if brewers do want to include them, they should make sure drinkers won’t stick out like a sore thumb when they do visit. On three separate occasions I was left feeling isolated and uncomfortably conspicuous, and consequently slugged down a beer that I would rather have savoured (Old Tom in two cases).

Speaking of beers to savour: overall, the ‘winter warmer’ landscape is looking remarkably healthy this year. My 36 ticks have taken in 24 different beers from 19 breweries: eight stouts, ten porters, three old ales and three ‘Christmas’ beers. (A fourth old ale should be mentioned – Dunham‘s single venue meant that it didn’t get a sticker of its own.) As well as Titanic‘s two porters, Vocation offered two different stouts, while Dunham had a porter and an old ale; Robinson’s (of course) offered both an old ale and a ‘Christmas’ beer, and RedWillow went one better by offering a stout, a porter, and an old ale (all of them worth seeking out).

More detail for the completist:

Stout: Black Edge, Bridge, First Chop, Marble, RedWillow*, Stranger Times, Vocation x2
Porter: Bank Top, Bridgehouse, Coach House, Dunham, Kirkstall, RedWillow, Salamander, Thornbridge*, Titanic x2
Old Ale: Holt’s, RedWillow, Robinson’s*
‘Christmas’: Bradfield*, Lees’, Robinson’s

Reviewing that list, I’m reminded that quality has been high as well as variety: I’d put 18 of those 24 beers in the “worth seeking out” bracket (and most of those that didn’t qualify had reasons involving either plums or vanilla). Those flagged with a *, meanwhile, were outstanding examples of their style.

Doubtless a lot of these beers would be on bars anyway at this time of year, but the range and variety of beers I’ve seen recently suggests that operators are really getting into the ‘winter warmer’ spirit. Bars and brewers don’t make this kind of effort unprompted; thanks are due to everyone who helped make it happen!

Winter, warmer (2)

This is the second of three posts about this year’s Winter Warmer Wander, CAMRA’s annual celebration of strong ‘winter’ beers. This one covers central Manchester (again), Sale and Altrincham, the Wilmslow Road corridor and another trip to Stockport.

An early-afternoon trip to Manchester started with a well-kept half of Holt’s Sixex in a pleasantly quiet Ape and Apple – which you probably won’t be able to experience now until some time in January. The beer is worth seeking out, though. The Piccadilly Tap had a couple of dark beers on, one of which was one of Vocation‘s current series of collabs: Vocation vs Adnams’ Coffee Stout. This was a biggish stout, over on the sweet side of coffee-flavoured dark beers and smooth with it. Then I made the trek to the Marble Arch for another biggish but easy-drinking stout – Marble Stout – following it with a third of their Amontillado Barrel-Aged Barleywine. The barrel had put in a lot of work: this was a smooth, easy-drinking 12.4%er, which in no way drank its strength (unless you thought of Benylin, perhaps).

Another lunchtime found me in the J P Joule (JDW) in Sale, where I was very pleasantly surprised to see Thornbridge Market Porter on the bar – a really excellent contemporary porter; I was sorry I was only stopping for a half. But I had places to be, viz. Altrincham. When I got there, sadly, the Unicorn (also JDW) had nothing qualifying on – at least, they had two or three Christmas- or winter-themed beers, but none at 4.4% or above. I thought it was in the spirit of the thing to order Moorhouse‘s recently-revived Xmas Cauldron, which was fine. No such problems at Costello’s, of course: both the excellent Dunham Porter and Dunham Winter Warmer were present and correct. The Winter Warmer was a new one on me, and I can recommend it.

A couple of weeks later the tram took me to Didsbury, where the Head of Steam (in common with a few other places) was serving Titanic Plum Porter Reserve. I can’t say I’m a fan. I’m not opposed to beer with adjuncts – I’ve got fond memories of the same brewery’s damson stout – but in this beer, and perhaps particularly in this higher-strength (6.5%) version, the plum tends to dominate rather than blending in. They also had Blackjack Petal – a ‘brut IPA’ with tea – on keg; I’ve got fond memories of Ticketybrew‘s Jasmine Green Tea Pale, and I can’t say I wasn’t tempted. It was a bit early to be stopping for a second, though.

On to the Railway, pausing only for an invigorating walk down Lapwing Lane (how I forgot that the Railway is at the “Metropolitan and Burton Road tram” end of Lapwing Lane, not the “Wine & Wallop and West Didsbury tram” end, I’m not sure). Holt’s Sixex was on the bar, but sadly that’s where it stayed; the line had just been cleaned and the beer wasn’t going to be on for a while. Instead I had another not-actually-qualifying seasonal, the 4.3% Holt’s bitter A Date With Santa. Which, again, was fine.

From there the bus took me to the Red Lion (JW Lees Plum Pudding) and then on to the Great Central (JDW), where they had the really excellent (and relatively seldom-seen) Bank Top Port O Call (a porter with port, no less). There’s some interesting ordering going on in some parts of the JDW’s empire. No stickers at the Great Central, incidentally, “because somebody foolishly binned ’em”.

Lastly, a repeat trip to Stockport. I’d been mulling this over ever since I heard that the Petersgate Tap had a Torrside old ale on; I thought I could combine that with paying a visit to the Blossoms, which in my experience keeps Old Tom particularly well. I arrived in Stockport on a rainy Sunday afternoon and got a bus down the road. I was glad to see the Blossoms by the time it hove into view: Chorlton to Stockport can be a longish bus journey in itself, and I was beginning to feel the need to use the facilities, let’s say. The building was dark, which initially didn’t put me off – I remembered the decor in the Blossoms being on the eccentric side, so keeping the lights low on a gloomy Sunday seemed like just the kind of thing they would do. Then I reached the front door and read the handwritten notice:

CLOSED DUE TO TECHNOLOGY BEING RUBBISH

Hmm. OK, I thought. Not to panic, I thought. Plenty of buses going back into Stockport. I could get Old Tom at the Arden Arms. And lots of places had… there were lots of places where I could… no, not thinking about that…

Thankfully, the buses back into Stockport were pretty frequent. All that remained was to, effectively, speed-walk from the bus station to the Arden Arms (which turned out to be a really surprisingly long walk). I now have thoroughly favourable memories of the Arden Arms, which had (a) Old Tom well-kept and sparkled (none of that ‘pin on the bar’ malarkey they’ve had in some years) and, crucially, (b) a Gents’ quite close to the entrance. In other respects it was rather unsatisfactory, admittedly – every space big enough to put a chair seemed to have been given over to diners, with drinkers apparently expected to prop up the bar (and squash up against it every time a server went by, which was often). I perched on a bench by an empty table and drank up.

After all that I was glad of a bit of a rest, which I took – albeit with half an eye on bus times – back at the Petersgate Tap. (The old ale I’d come for – Torrside/Durham Spark of Madness – was very nice indeed.) But I wasn’t going straight home. The Beer Shop in Heaton Moor was open; it really is a shop rather than a bar, and as such it’s not somewhere I’d choose to linger, but it was nice to see RedWillow Heritage Porter, and to drink it in good nick. Then a final stop at Ladybarn Social Club, which is a place I’d choose to linger; the qualifying beer here was First Chop POD, a vanilla stout.

13 pubs/bars, 11 qualifying beers (and two borderline), 12 stickers and one signature (five white, six blue and two gold): not quite as clean a sweep as the previous post, but not far off. Another good spread of beers, too: three stouts, five porters, two old ales and one ‘other’. And, unless I’ve miscounted, the 23 qualifying beers I’ve had so far include sixteen different beers from fifteen different breweries. Looking good!

Next: I venture into the lands of blue (Cheadle) and gold (Stalybridge)

Winter, warmer (1)

The Winter Warmer Wander, CAMRA’s annual celebration of strong ‘winter’ beers, is on us again. Here are a few notes from central Manchester and beyond.

On an overcast weekday afternoon I made my way to the Briton’s Protection, a landmark pub which is now, sadly, under threat. I had a half of Vocation Naughty and Nice chocolate stout – not my favourite style, but a very good example. I regret to say that the pub was practically empty; I was there early doors, admittedly, but… well, see below.

A few minutes up the road, Rain Bar wasn’t busy, but there was a definite early-evening background hum. One of the nice things about this year’s WWW is that both Holt’s and J. W. Lees have got involved, so there are some relatively unfamiliar pubs to tick off – and indeed beers. In this case I had JWL‘s Plum Pudding – a strong-ish dark bitter (well, 4.8%), which doesn’t taste of Christmas pudding but does, commendably, taste of plums. The fruit flavour is there and it isn’t; it supplies an element of the dark bitter flavour profile that you’d usually get from the malt, but if you stop and think about it it’s still fruit. It’s the kind of trick Ticketybrew used to do a lot, and here it works rather well.

On to the Paramount (JDW), which was buzzing, and where there was only one dark beer on – a stout which presumably hadn’t been shifting, as they were selling it as a ‘Manager’s Special’ at £1.99 a pint. I naturally baulked when charged the standard £1.56 for a half, which attracted a manager – who explained that they couldn’t possibly sell me a half for 99p, “the till wouldn’t let us”. He then turned to the bartender – who had already drawn the half – and said, dismissively, “he doesn’t want it”. I protested that I didn’t mind paying the £1.56, if that was the only way to get a half of the Manager’s Special Stout, but no, the till wouldn’t allow them to do that either: it was a pint or nothing. So nothing it was. (Something similar did happen to me once before in a Spoons’, although that time I was less fussed about sticking to the half.) I ticked off the Paramount on a later visit, when they were serving Coach House Blunderbus (it’s a porter).

On then to the Waterhouse (also JDW and also buzzing), where I was faced with a pump clip for Kirkstall Black Band porter on a pump being energetically jockeyed by a bartender, evidently “pulling through”. Was it not on yet, I asked (not seeing any other dark beers on the bar), and was assured that it was on, just not at this end of the bar; to underscore the point, the bartender swapped the pump clip on the new tap with one for a Bradfield beer, which presumably was the one actually being pulled through. Ah well. Kirkstall Black Band porter is a really good beer, anyway – and they evidently know how to keep it at the Waterhouse, even if they have an odd approach to pump clips.

Out the back and in at the next doorway to the City, which was standing room only (it’s not the biggest pub, but still). I had a half of Stranger Times Revenant – a brewery I’d never heard of, but a pretty good stout. But by now it was getting on for 5.00 and I had places to be.

Another evening I started out at around a quarter to five, at Gulliver’s – another J.W. Lees pub and another half of Plum Pudding. I haven’t been to this pub very often and won’t be hurrying back – but it’s not them, it’s me. Shortly before leaving home I’d noticed that I’d galled the skin under one fingernail, which was gently but persistently oozing blood; there was no pain to speak of, so I only realised what had happened – and applied a plaster – when I saw blood on my phone screen. What I didn’t do, then or at any time till I went to the Gents’ in Gulliver’s, was look in the mirror. It turned out that I’d gone into town on the tram, and ordered at the bar, with what looked like a large bloody scab on my right cheek, and smears of blood on my left temple. Still, at least they served me.

On to the Millstone where – what? Sorry? Can we go outside?

It wasn’t quite 5.00 when I got to the Millstone, but it was already rammed, and the karaoke was in full swing – and very, very loud. I ordered another half of Plum Pudding (partly by sign language) and drank it as quickly as I could.

The Lower Turk’s Head was a veritable haven of tranquillity by comparison, although in absolute terms it was pretty busy. It being a Holt’s pub, I had a half of Sixex. I was a bit sceptical about Sixex qualifying as a ‘winter warmer’ – I’d had it in bottle and not been wildly impressed – but fair play to Joeys’, on draught this time round it was big, dark and punchy, and generally pretty much what you’d expect from an old ale.

As for Stockport, I did originally have a comprehensive (and potentially health-hazardous) crawl planned, but consulting the Winter Warmer Wander card revealed that I was in danger of piling up the easy-to-get “white” stickers while neglecting the more challenging “blue” and “gold”. (That’s another innovation this year, and it makes things a lot more interesting.) This year’s WWW visit to Stockport was therefore more selective than usual, even allowing for the non-availability of the Hope, the Railway, the George and who could forget the Tiviot, if they tried.

Anyway – at the Calverts Court (JDW) I had lunch with the other half and collected a prized blue sticker along with a pint of Salamander Python Porter. I haven’t seen much from Salamander lately, but this was rather a good, full-bodied porter.

Then down the road to the Bakers Vaults, where I perched in a rather ungainly manner on a ridiculously high stool and had a half of (drum-roll please) Robinson’s Old Tom. Mmm, Old Tom.

When on a crawl in Stockport I often finish at the Petersgate Tap, for obvious reasons, but – Stockport’s topography being what it is – this would have involved going down and then up again, and who wants to do that? So the Tap was my next stop. By this time Torrside Grubby Bastard had left the building, sadly, but Black Edge Treacle Stout was a very acceptable substitute. They also had a keg stout – Siren Death by CCC – which was rather good, if you like the idea of a ‘Caribbean chocolate cake’ stout clocking in at 10%. Which – despite my reservations about session-strength chocolate stouts – I rather do.

How to follow that, but with another half of Robinson’s Old Tom, at the Swan with Two Necks on the lower level. It was on hand pump, as at the Bakers Vaults, and as at the Bakers Vaults it was well kept and generally terrific.

12 pubs, 12 qualifying beers, 12 stickers (11 white and 1 blue). A good spread of beers, too: three stouts, three porters, three (count ’em) old ales and three ‘other’ (viz. J W Lees Plum Pudding). Too good to be true? Stay tuned!

 

 

 

Niche/Chain

Always nice to hear from Melt Banana, and that particular waxing goes by the name of Niche oblique stroke Chain, good heavens…

At the end of a working day there’s not much I like better than stopping for a pint, or else a half of something silly, on my way home. And if by ‘working day’ you mean ‘those hours that I’m obliged to spend in the workplace, before sodding off home to get on with my day’ – meaning that the timing of the ‘after-work’ drink comes forward to 3.00 or 4.00 – well, so much the better. Day-time pubs are quiet pubs, and (as I said here) there’s something I particularly like about the atmosphere in a quiet pub – especially a pub that feels as if it’s going to get busy later. (Incidentally, I think that feeling – that there is a buzz here, just not right now – is the key to the ‘dead vs quiet’ question. To turn it round, a ‘dead’ pub is a quiet pub that feels as if it won’t get busy – later on, or in some cases ever again.)

But I am a CAMRA member – and generally in favour of small and independent bars and breweries – and I realised recently that my after-work stops weren’t taking me to real ale pubs, or even to anywhere truly independent. I confess: I’d got into the habit of stopping for an after-work drink at BrewDog. Reasons not to drink at BrewDog are legion; I promptly resolved to break the habit, and go to an independent bar for my next daytime drink. I won’t name the bar, because (spoiler) the comparison wasn’t entirely in its favour.

Still, going somewhere that isn’t plastered with corporate signage, and offers cask beer, seemed like a good idea in principle; the first question I asked myself was why I hadn’t done this before. The answer that came back was, because this place wasn’t open the last time I was passing at this time of day. At the moment I’m sometimes in the market for a homeward-bound drink around 3.30 on a Friday and sometimes at the same time on a Monday, and the bar I was in – like a lot of independent pubs and bars – rations its daytime openings in the early part of the week, when people generally are more likely to use it.

That day was a Friday, though, so no issue there. After I’d sat down the room started to fill up, and soon it was clear that POETS day was in full swing (ask your Dad). The sound of the background music soon mingled with the sound of conversation and the sound of the bartender explaining something to a punter (he seemed to like explaining things; perhaps he’d been on his own all day). It all combined to produce an atmosphere in which… in which it was quite hard to concentrate on my LRB, actually. Some like people-watching, some like striking up conversation with strangers, but when I go to bars on my own I go for two things, apart from the beer: (a) to read and (b) to zone out and let my mind wander. The problem, I realised – or, if not a problem, the area where this bar was getting outperformed by those nouveau-corporate Scots gits – was that the music wasn’t loud enough: it was at ‘polite background for when conversation flags’ level, rather than the level of ‘unignorable bordering on in-your-face’. There are those who prefer silence by way of background, but personally I like a bit of background music, as long as it’s not a genre I particularly dislike (gangsta rap, hair metal…). Whatever it is, though, it does have to be loud enough. Not too loud – certainly not loud enough that people have to shout (hello, Society! HELLO! I said… oh, never mind). Just loud enough to be unignorable, and to put up a bit of a barrier to the other ambient sounds (Friday evening crowd chatting, bartender explaining things, etc) – because then it’s also loud enough to create an atmosphere in which the solitary punter can lose him- or herself.

What about the beer, though? The bar I was in certainly had the jump on BrewDog in terms of cask beers, but everything on handpump was in the same kind of area (pale and around 4%) – and that afternoon I was in the market for the aforementioned half of something silly: an imperial stout, a barleywine, a tripel, a quad… This is an area in which the bar owned by the dodgy plastic punks excels, frequently offering a choice between two or three of the above styles. The bar I was in had a number of interesting-looking keg offerings, including an impy stout at a fairly daunting ABV; however, they also had a strong NEIPA produced by everyone’s favourite Finnish brewery, Pöhjala, in collaboration with a Bulgarian brewery. I’m not crazy about NEIPA as a style, but I am a bit of a Pöhjala fan – and besides, I was intrigued to find out what a Finnish/Bulgarian take on NEIPA would taste like. So I ordered that. It turned out to taste like a mango and passionfruit smoothie with added yeast-bite, or in other words like every other NEIPA. (But I could have had the 12% pastry stout, so really that one’s on me.)

In short, the bar owned by the CAMRA-baiting headline-chasers in bed with private equity delivered a better, more reliable and more consistent experience than the independent bar which I’m not going to name, and it did so precisely because it was a larger-scale operation with a more ‘corporate’ style: longer opening hours, multiple lines devoted to ‘silly’ options, in-your-face music, staff who keep shtum when they’re not trying to sell you something. My experience reminds me, to my embarrassment, of the South Park episode where the residents boycott a new chain coffee bar in favour of the longstanding independent coffee shop, only to find out when they actually try “Harbucks” that its coffee is far better (“Hey, this doesn’t taste like mud!”). There are some things that a chain bar (and let’s not kid ourselves that the bars owned by those staff-abusing fake rebel millionaires are anything other than a chain) can actually do better than an indie, and filling a particular, oddly-shaped niche is one of them. JDW’s (for all their flaws) are the real ale pubs where you can always get a cheap meal with your kids, should that be what you want; BD are the craft beer bar where you can always get a half of something silly, with musical accompaniment by the White Stripes or Fat Freddy’s Drop, on a weekday afternoon, if that‘s what you’re in the market for.

(Starbucks coffee is rank, though.)

 

 

 

Could it be Magic? (4)

This is the fourth of four posts about Mild Magic, CAMRA’s annual campaign to promote mild around Manchester.

A trip to Stockport – combining mild ticking on my part with craft-related shopping on my other half’s – got off to a decidedly inauspicious start. We missed the bus from Chorlton by making the rookie error of arriving only a minute or two ahead of the scheduled time, by which point the bus was already moving off. Necessity was the mother of invention: rather than wait for the next bus to Stockport, we decided to get the bus to Levenshulme and start the day’s mild-drinking at Fred’s Ale House. Fred’s was closed, however, and not because we were there too early; a phone call to the number on the hoarding revealed that the manager was ill and that the bar wouldn’t be opening that week, let alone that day. (Best wishes for a speedy recovery to, well, Fred, I guess.)

We soon managed to get a bus for Stockport, although the journey was interrupted by an abortive attempt on my part to make the route more interesting by starting with Romiley. I forget exactly what was wrong with this route, but it looked a lot less attractive once we were waiting for the relevant bus. Eventually we decided to knock it on the head and just go to Stockport, as originally planned. The Crown on Heaton Lane was a welcome sight when we finally got there – I was actually quite thirsty, apart from anything else – but no mild was to be had. The beers that were on weren’t bad at all – I had a half of Pictish Jarrylo – but there weren’t very many; the bar had something like a 1:2 ratio between pumps with anything on and those without. Nor was there much custom to speak of, that sunny weekend lunchtime, apart from a guy making a delivery who stayed for a chat with the bartender. The Crown has a lot of positive memories as well as some sad ones, and I’d love to see it busy again; I can’t see it at the moment, though.

We were on coffee at the Café San Juan, where we had an absolutely stonking lunch at a very reasonable price (even for Stockport). Nothing to do with Mild Magic, but this Colombian café is well worth a visit if you’re in the area.

I made for the Angel next, where the bartender didn’t seem very keen on serving halves, or else he wasn’t very keen on me personally. (Or maybe he’d just bitten his lip.) Anyway, Distant Hills Dark Mild was fine but rather surprising; it was on the malty side for dark milds, but also in the ‘light-textured, fresh-tasting and not particularly dark’ area. If there was such a thing as a light dark bitter, or a mid-brown mild, this would be it. I’d recommend seeking it out if it weren’t for the recent sad news about the brewery.

My itinerary took me next to the Grove Alehouse, the only bar I’ve been to during Mild Magic (or in the last couple of years) that didn’t take card payments. Cash duly located, I settled down in a corner with a half of Elgood’s Black Dog – the first time I’ve seen that one – while the bartender had a chat with some friends; the small scale and laid-back atmosphere of the Grove made this a much more pleasant experience than it had been at the Crown.

Into each life a little rain must fall, and no Mild Magic would be quite complete without one of my very least favourite beers, Coach House Gunpowder Mild. Still, the George and Dragon – one of those rambling open-plan multiple-seating-area pubs with every area dominated by a large screen TV – deserves credit for having a mild on, even if it does taste of liquorice water. The Milliner in Davenport – a small, laidback bar with a playlist somewhere between “contemporary indie” and “Greatest Hits Radio” – couldn’t stretch that far (although I’ve since learned that it had had the Distant Hills dark mild on earlier). And the RedWillow Noble Pale was rather good, to be fair.

Back to town, then – well, back to Stockport – and where better to finish than the Petersgate Tap. Tatton Pennine (light mild) was very nice. RedWillow Double Heritage Porter (yes, on cask) was very nice indeed. And Thornbridge Pardus (Sticky Toffee Pudding) was very silly indeed, and really rather good. After that lot I was back on the bus; I put the lid on the crawl with a half of Steelfish Running With Believers at the Ladybarn Social Club, while watching the end of the City game. I’ve used ‘laid-back’ as a term of approbation a couple of times, and there’s not much more laid-back than the Ladybarn Social Club; it was a really nice way to finish the day. (And I don’t even support City.)

Entering the Grove in Clayton, a week later, I was transported back to Manchester pub-going in the 1980s – old boys sat behind half-empty pints on upholstered benches, obscured by clouds of… steady on, that’s not tobacco smoke, is it? An unexpected aspect of the spread of vaping has been that you very rarely smell tobacco any more; I’d assumed people would want to replicate it, but apparently not. But there evidently is at least one vape liquid out there that produces clouds of tobacco-scented vapour (and double-takes). There was a surprisingly lively discussion going on, on the surprising topic of spelling:

“Course I know how it’s spelt! O, U…”
– Eulogy doesn’t begin with an O, U! I’ve googled it – it’s E, U, L, O, G, Y! It’s not f.ing ougley!
“Will you f.ing shut up?” [this from another part of the room]
– Who?
“You!”

A bit livelier than I was expecting for 12.00 noon.; the pub had been open since half eleven, though. The person shouting the (correct) spelling of ‘eulogy’ across the room (and being told to shut up) was the bartender, I should mention. Anyway, I asked for a half of Holt’s Unmistakably Mild and got one from the standard Mild tap (they had one of each). Since then I’ve heard of pubs putting the Unmistakably on instead of the standard Mild rather than alongside it. The one I had was a fairly big and complex beer (and very nice, I should say), so the chances are it was the Unmistakably.

Further down the tramline, the bartender at the Silly Country wasn’t aware that Mild Magic was still running (it was the final weekend, to be fair). Not seeing anything labelled ‘mild’, I ordered the darkest thing on the bar, which turned out to be a sweetish, full-bodied dark mild with an interesting roasty edge. (It was Lord’s Black Gold, and it was in fact a stout. Nevertheless.)

In previous years I’ve had Bridge beers at the Austin Powers drinking den that is Tapster’s in Ashton-under-Lyne, but the lineup that Saturday was all Settle – and no mild. (The bitter I had was pretty good, though.) Before leaving Ashton I paid a visit to the old market hall for something to eat (viz. a cheese and onion pie), and fitted in a half of Brightside Manchester Magic Mild at the Ash Tree (JDW) while I was waiting for my bus.

Onward to the final stop, Stalybridge. That Saturday afternoon, the streets of Staly were doing their usual impression of the Mary Celeste. (Maybe things pick up in the evening.) I didn’t get a chance to test my theory about Hyde’s 1863; the White House only had Hyde’s Dark Ruby in the way of milds, and the Q Inn (to give it its full name) didn’t even have that. But the best (of the day) was yet to come: at Bridge Beers, Bridge Golden Mild was so good that I stayed for a second half. This is only the third light mild I’ve had this year, and – like the Tatton example – it was excellent; no issues with condition, either, which is impressive in a bar serving multiple beers on stillage. One small negative: listing all your draught beers on the blackboard whether they’re available or not, and having a bartender tell each customer in turn which ones are on, represents excellent customer service with a personal touch, but lacks something in terms of speed and efficiency.

Journey’s end – and, for me, Mild Magic’s end – was the Buffet Bar, where I had a very nice half of RedWillow Dark Ruby Mild. And a very nice half of Zapato Frambozen (on keg). And listened to some very nice music in very nice surroundings while eating a very nice pork pie… It was that stage of the day, let’s face it. And finally Esther, a half of Serious Goldrush (Belgian yeast, it’s the future!).

Fourteen pubs, ten milds, ten breweries. Overall, that makes 49 pubs, of which 38 had at least one mild on (nine Holt’s pubs, seven Hyde’s, five Spoon’s and 17 independent or ‘other’), and 22 milds from 19 breweries (viz. Bank Top, Beartown, Blackjack, Bridge, Brightside, Coach House, Distant Hills, Dunham, Elgood’s, Empire, Holt’s, Hyde’s, Only With Love, Peerless, RedWillow, Rudgate, Steelfish, Tatton and Titanic).

I considered listing the places that didn’t have a mild on here, but in many cases I think they genuinely were ‘between milds’ or had under-ordered – or, in the case of JDW’s pubs, had over-ordered on ‘festival’ beers. I will say that one or two places seem to have severely under-ordered (no sightings of mild at Wine and Wallop any later than mid-April), and the mild which visitors to the Famous Crown were repeatedly assured was on order never seems to have arrived – and I didn’t get the impression that those in charge at the Beech had ever had any intention of putting a mild on.

Still, that’s only a handful of refuseniks out of 49 pubs – and they can be set against the successes represented getting milds into places like the Milliner or the Head of Steam. Many thanks to everyone involved in organising this year’s Mild Magic, and to the brewers and publicans who entered into the spirit of it; it was a lot of fun.

Could it be Magic? (3)

This is the third of four posts on the 2023 iteration of Mild Magic, CAMRA’s annual campaign to promote mild around Manchester.

A trip to Sale and Altrincham started out at the J P Joule (JDW), a spit away from the Metrolink, where a survey of the pumps revealed no milds; I wasn’t particularly sorry to settle for an Acorn Gorlovka. (Perhaps the reasons for it aren’t entirely admirable, but I do appreciate JDW’s policy of putting on 6% stouts at the same price as every other guest beer.) When I asked for a sticker the bartender pointed out that they did in fact have a mild on – Titanic Dark Mild was lurking at the top end of the bar along with Ruddles County and Greene King Abbot. There was no objection to giving me a sticker, “but I didn’t want you going away and saying we didn’t have a mild on”. Duly noted.

Down the road, the Volunteer was its familiar big, slightly basic, partially-carpeted self, and not one but two Holt’s milds were on the bar. I ordered the standard mild, and – it being 3.2% as compared to the 4.3% Unmistakably – pushed the boat out and had a pint.

We could see the bus stop across the road from where we were sitting, meaning that we could tell we’d missed the hourly bus to Altrincham without getting up. That wouldn’t have been so bad if the other hourly bus to Altrincham hadn’t been scheduled for all of two minutes later. (Sort it out, Andy!) We trekked back to the Metrolink and headed for Alti that way. The Unicorn (JDW) also had Titanic Dark Mild on, and this time I did order it. It was turning into a bit of a day for pints, unusually for Mild Magic trips; we were eating, and I couldn’t bring myself to order a half to go with my meal. Not only that, but they were for some reason selling off Rudgate Ruby Mild at an MUP-busting 99p per pint, and I could hardly pass that up.

Lastly we went to Costello’s. What is there to say about Costello’s (other than that it’s twice as big as the last time we were there and has a music policy that falls on the right side of eclectic*)? What’s there to say about Dunham Dark, or Dunham Porter, or Lymm Lymm Dam? Great beers, great bar.

*nothing later than the Kaiser Chiefs, earlier than the Sex Pistols** or more mainstream than New Order
**sorry, Matthew

A trip to Salford, Eccles and points beyond might have been in this post, but that I couldn’t work out how to start it from the cathedral area, and it seemed absurd to ‘do’ Salford without the New Oxford. So I just made a trip out from town to the New Oxford on its own. The bartender was in expansive form and told me that I’d just missed the Moorhouse‘s Black Cat Reserve, which he’d hoped would last Mild Magic out. I think he may also have told me that they hadn’t got it in for MM but had had it sitting around for ages (possibly even since before lockdown?), as they didn’t believe in throwing away good beer if they could help it, and if it hadn’t been opened it wasn’t as if it would go off, but it’s possible I misunderstood that bit. (If anyone had the Black Cat Reserve and found it a touch punchier than the advertised strength, though…) Anyway, I had a half of RedWillow Heritage Porter and another of Cloudwater Dusk, a 4.6% stout with cacao and vanilla; I was intrigued to see how a drinking-strength stout coped with additions like that, but the answer turned out to be “by dialling them right down”. The RedWillow porter, on the other hand, was superb; I haven’t been blown away by the HP in cans, but on cask it was something else. As indeed was the New Oxford, whose beer range I’ve been a bit lukewarm about in some previous years; there were some nice-looking beers on the list, and the mid-table sluggers of brewing were much less in evidence. Hopefully I’ll get back there before this time next year.

The Lord Nelson in Urmston is another big, open-plan Holt’s pub, and it also had both milds on the bar. I commented to the bartender that most places only seemed to be selling the Unmistakably Mild; he said, “that’s because most places don’t sell mild,” and walked off to the other bar. The Holt’s Mild was in good nick, and the pub was – if this doesn’t sound too ridiculous – an old man’s pub in the best sense of the word: everything was immaculate, from the wood and leather to the placement of beermats, and on that Saturday afternoon the pub had just enough custom to make you think it was going to be absolutely buzzing later on. This is probably the biggest difference between old-school working men’s pubs and Spoons’, which often look considerably less than immaculate and give the impression that it’s going to be a bit lairy later on. (And yet my wife and daughter consistently prefer them to Holt’s pubs. Must be the menu.)

Enough amateur sociology, and onward to the Prairie Schooner, which was already absolutely buzzing – so much so that I couldn’t find a seat. H’mph. Brightside Manchester Magic Mild (is somebody looking for a sponsorship opportunity?) was a good example of the malty end of the mild spectrum, although I think 5% is a bit top-end for a mild; I didn’t feel like stopping for another, though.

Finally, a trip to Cheadle and environs gave me further data for my theory about Hyde’s 1863. At the Horse and Farrier they seemed to be shifting a lot of it – well, they seemed to be shifting a lot of everything – and it was… fine. Not really my favourite beer, judged from that half – a light, thin-bodied bitter with pronounced bitterness and sharpness and not much else; you’d certainly never take it for a light mild. And then there was the James Watts. Seeing the name, I looked at the Spoons app on my phone to see what they had on, but it’s not a Spoons at all. The pub’s own Web page explains all:

To satisfy an interest in craft ale and for those looking to explore beers from the far flung corners of the globe, the James Watts is the place sample the wares.

With an array of over 100 beers to choose from, we have something to keep you interested as you seek out your new favourite tipple.

Enjoy some time with friends in a laid-back atmosphere with a glass of wine or a masterly crafted beer.

If there’s one thing I like even more than a beer from the far flung corners of the globe, it’s a masterly crafted beer. So I had high hopes when I headed for the James Watts – well, no, to be honest I didn’t have high hopes at all, but I was intrigued; I had no idea what I was going to see on the bar. So it was a complete surprise to see a cask lineup consisting of Hyde’s Original, 1863, Dark Ruby and Hopster. Exactly what Hyde’s are trying to do with that pub, or why they’re trying to do it in Cheadle, I don’t know, but I think they need a rethink. The 1863, on the other hand, was really nice – pleasantly bland, slightly sweet, very much a light mild. Work that out.

My last port of call in the area was a genuine, and rather pleasantly spartan, craft beer bar, the Wobbly Stamp. They were playing Erasure and serving Empire Moonrakers’ Mild – a ‘ten malt mild’ from a brewery in Slaithwaite, and one of the best milds I’ve had this year; I enjoyed both of them.

Ten pubs visited, nine of which were serving seven different milds. Overall, that’s 35 pubs visited and 15 different milds, from 13 breweries. Avanti!

Next: I make it to beer city (Stockport) and reach the end of the road (Stalybridge)

 

Could it be Magic?

A staggering 16% of all posts on this blog in the past three years have been about Mild Magic, CAMRA’s annual campaign to promote mild around Manchester – and that figure is set to rise still further! Which is to say, blogging on here tailed off a bit during and after lockdown – in fact, there have only been eighteen posts in the last three years – and one of the few things apart from bottled beer that I wrote about in that time was Mild Magic (2022). Have to see if I can do something about that.

In the mean time… well, it’s that time again, although this time round I’m shooting for the 48-pub tier. So, without further ado…

There were three pubs to tick off in Chorlton. I started at the Sedge Lynn (JDW), where Peerless Mother Redcap’s Ruby Mild was
[stares at screen trying to think of another way to say ‘quite nice’]
[time passes]
…OK. Not bad. A decent example of the style. All right, I admit it, it was quite nice. And the pub was buzzing (it was a quarter to four on a Friday afternoon, so basically the weekend was in full swing).

Things were a lot quieter at both the Horse and Jockey and the Beech, although there were a fair few punters in both places. The H&J’s gastro makeover of a few years back has made the place curiously unwelcoming for the casual drinker – curiously in that it’s hard to put your finger on what’s actually changed (although the lack of bar stools must be a factor). I drank up fairly quickly and left, vaguely convinced that I’d been the only drinker overlooked by tables of diners; it was only when I replayed the scene in memory that I realised that, what with it being around 4.00 on a Friday, very few of the people in were actually diners (even if they were in groups and seated at tables for four). Anyway, the Holt’s Unmistakably Mild was very good – all credit to Joeys’ for brewing a mild specially for MM, and a big, malty one in particular.

Timothy Taylor’s Golden Best is a light mild I’m very fond of, and one that I’ve had many times in the Beech under at least one of its tenancies. It’s been a managed house for a while now; it still has Landlord and Boltmaker on the bar as regulars, but there’s no sign of Golden Best – and they don’t intend to change that situation for Mild Magic, or so a fellow CAMRA member was informed when they asked. All of which doesn’t so much put a question mark over the pub’s commitment to MM as put a clown nose on it. On the plus side, the Landlord tasted as good as ever, and a Mild Magic sticker was eventually forthcoming.

There were five pubs to tick off when I went into Manchester town centre. Or four. Or twelve (or thirteen?).

Start again. There are four sub-areas in the town centre, with three pubs in each; the New Oxford in Salford is a short walk away, and in other years I’ve fitted it in when I’m doing the town centre. So I set off for town intending to do at least four (or possibly five) and maybe a few more. In the event I went into nine pubs, but only drank anything in five. Several factors militated against a protracted trawl around the centre’s pubs – it was a warm day, it was a Saturday and (perhaps most importantly) City were at home with an early-evening kickoff. Starting off at the Cathedral end of town, I poked my nose in the Crown and Anchor, didn’t fancy the scrum at the bar and decided to get my Holt’s fix somewhere else – specifically the Ape and Apple, where the Unmistakably Mild was in good nick. The crowd at the bar in the Waterhouse (JDW) made the Crown and Anchor look sparse, and besides there wasn’t a mild on the bar (Rudgate Ruby Mild was listed in the ‘coming attractions’). I cut through to the City Arms, which had some fearsomely interesting-looking beers on (black kveik IPA anyone?) but no mild – and was also too busy to stay. “Too busy” in the case of the Crown and Anchor meant that I would have felt awkward monopolising the bartender long enough to get a sticker; in the case of the City, it meant I would have had difficulty finding anywhere to stand, let alone sit. Things were similar in the Grey Horse, even though it leans Red; it’s cosy in there at the best of times, and it was like a sauna that afternoon.

Pubs visited: five. Milds drunk: one. Fortunately things picked up after that. The Molly House was pleasantly quiet and cool, and the RedWillow Dark Mild was in good nick; it’s a good example of the sweet, fruity side of the dark mild spectrum. Something similar goes for Steelfish Running With Believers, the mild on offer at the Piccadilly Tap – which was also busy, but not quite so much so as to be unpleasant. The Smithfield was the busiest I’ve ever seen it – so much so that I didn’t stay for another after a half of Blackjack Pub Ale, which I guess is a historical take on mild; it’s big, malty and 5.2%. I finished at the Briton’s Protection with another half of RedWillow Dark Mild; very much standing room only, but there was no way I was going home without at least a fifth sticker.

Later visits to town furnished Rudgate Ruby Mild at both the City and the Waterhouse (JDW) – a really nice mild, incidentally, one of my favourites so far. The Grey Horse had both of Hyde’s erstwhile milds on (I had the 1863 – concerning which, incidentally, I’ve got a theory), while the Old Monkey, Lower Turk’s Head and Crown and Anchor all had Holt’s Unmistakably Mild (4.3%) (although not the rather tamer Holt’s Mild (3.2%)). At the Paramount (JDW), lastly, I ordered the darkest thing I could see on the bar; it turned out to be (a) a stout and (b) visibly ‘kicking’, even in the time it took to pour a half. The bartender insisted on serving it anyway; it was basically fine, albeit a bit flat.

So that’s fifteen pubs visited, of which thirteen had a mild on; in those thirteen I had seven milds from as many different breweries. There’s a lot of mild on a lot of bars out there.

Next: I leave the bright lights (Chorlton) and venture into suburbia (Didsbury)

 

 

Around Manchester on a pint of mild (3)

One more post on Mild Magic, CAMRA’s annual campaign to promote mild around Manchester.

When I started this blog back in 2010, one of the first things I posted was a series of posts on “my local” – I was lucky enough to have four pubs and bars to choose from. All four are still trading, although with the exception of the Wetherspoon’s they’re all under different management. Of the other three, two – the Beerhouse and the Hillary Step – are more or less recognisable as the same place they were, with a formula that the incoming management have altered but not overturned.

The Beech, though, is an almost completely different pub, with the snug opened out and large screens – and piped music – in every room. Not, I have to say, my cup of tea. Still, at all but its very lowest points the Beech has been dependable for beer quality, with a longstanding association with Timothy Taylor’s, and I’m happy to say that both of these are still the case. I didn’t stop long enough to find out if the Landlord and Boltmaker were as good as I remember them being, but I can report that the Brightside Umbra was in good nick. It’s an odd one for a dark mild, with a lot of roasty bitterness and very little sweetness; if you’d told me it was a light stout I wouldn’t have argued. Good stuff, though.

I had the Beech, and its many screens, more or less to myself on this Friday afternoon, but as I approached the Bowling Green things looked decidedly more lively. In fact it was buzzing. Actually it was a bit too busy, and what was that? a sign asking customers to place all orders at the desk? I approached close enough to the lad on the said desk for him to accost me and ask whether I was with the funeral. Ah.

Fortunately there was another pub handy, in the shape of the Horse and Jockey. In its latterday form as a gastropub, it was deserted and rather unwelcoming. I took my pint of Holt’s mild outside; it was fine, but no more than that.

On another Friday afternoon, the bus took me to Urmston and the Lord Nelson – a pub I’ve only ever visited in daytime, and which always looks as if it’s going to be a lot livelier in the evening; not in an unwelcoming way, though. The Holt’s mild here was excellent, for what that’s worth.

A walk into the centre brought me to the Prairie Schooner, the Music for the Soul secondhand record shop, and – more to the point – the Tim Bobbin (JDW), where I had another pint of Brightside Umbra (for about half the price the Beech had charged). The sticker sheet had gone walkabout, so I returned to the bar afterwards to get a signature, only to be stuck behind an old bloke who was having a pint of Coors dispensed from the slowest keg tap you have ever seen. And a slightly lairy-looking guy who lunged up to the bar, counted out some coins, said something about ifmyturncomesroundandI’mnotherecheersta and disappeared out of the front entrance, presumably for a smoke. (The bartender, still drawing the endless pint of Coors, ignored this approach completely and rolled her eyes as he left.) Then it turned out that the old bloke with the Coors wasn’t just ordering the one pint; in fact I had to wait until the bartender had pulled four of them, by which time there was a small crowd waiting and I felt quite bad about monopolising the bartender’s attention. Still, I seized my moment and got… the bartender’s initials in the box on the form. (This was actually the only place I came away from without a sticker this year.) Outside I met ifmyturncomesround guy, although as it turned out he wasn’t smoking; in fact he was riding a pushbike in circles on the pavement. He asked if there was still a queue at the bar, then answered himself (ahyouwouldn’tknowwouldyou) and headed inside to find out, wheeling the bike. JDW’s, all human life is there.

There was no drama at the Prairie Schooner – not least because it wasn’t on the MM list – but I’ll talk about it anyway. There was an opportunity to compare and contrast Loch Lomond‘s single-hop DIPAs Lost in Citra and Lost in Mosaic (verdict: the Citra works better than the Mosaic, unless you like an undertone of burnt toast with your fruit cocktail). Also at the Schooner, a wall entirely covered with past pump badges; I was able to count 20 different TicketyBrew beers, half of which I never had, alas. (Also a few from Cryptic – and doubtless from other former breweries of quality.)

And then to Didsbury. Wine and Wallop and I have (slightly tetchy) history with regard to MM, so it’s nice to be able to report that they had a mild on, and that it was a very nice pint. It’d be even nicer if I could remember which mild it was. I blame their bizarre decision to operate on table service only, while still having draught beers on the bar (and not on a menu, blackboard etc, at least as far as I could see). I distinctly remember thinking, halfway down the pint, what is this again? and straining to read the pump clip from my seat (I appear to be drinking… Binny Stritchly’s Dank Mick… can that possibly be right?). I don’t distinctly remember what I eventually worked it out to be, sadly. Still: they’re serving mild – and giving out stickers – so fair play to them.

There was more nomenclatural (it’s a word) consternation at the Fletcher Moss, which turns out to have been the only Hyde’s pub I visited on this year’s MM. Despite sponsoring MM, Hyde’s seem determined not to sell anything actually called Mild. As I understand it Hyde’s light mild is still on sale as 1863 (although as Hyde’s currently badge it as a “chestnut session ale” I wonder if it’s as light as it used to be), but the dark mild is no longer Owd Oak or even Old Indie; it’s… (You have to imagine this entire paragraph playing out, with increasing rapidity, in my head as I studied the pump clips at the Fletcher Moss.) In the end I plumped for Dark Ruby (“a very dark ruby red beer”), as much on the basis of its strength (3.5%) as anything else. A pint of it in the beer garden went down quite nicely.

Lastly to East Didsbury and the Gateway (JDW), where they were between milds. As remnants of their ‘beer festival’ were still visible, I took the opportunity to settle a question from the Waterhouse – where

There was a pump for Rudgate Ruby Mild, which is what I duly ordered, but I didn’t see the server draw it – she disappeared to the other end of the bar and came back with my pint some minutes later. (I checked afterwards and there wasn’t another mild tap at that end.) Maybe she had it ‘banked’, although I can’t imagine why.

The only other dark beer it could have been was an Italian porter – Foglie d’Erba Hot Night at the Village – which, as luck would have it, was on the bar at the Gateway. So I had a half. It was good, but it was definitely a porter – which means I did have the Rudgate mild. Nice to get these things settled.

There was very nearly a problem with the stickers at the Gateway, albeit an unusual kind of problem – I overheard two members of staff debating whether, considering they hadn’t had a mild on, I should have been given a sticker. Fortunately they didn’t confiscate it for being obtained under false pretences. They were also pulling through Titanic Classic Mild at the time, and as I’d only had a half of the porter it seemed rude not to have a half of that as well.

Six pubs and one bar; seven venues, seven milds, six stickers. Overall, 23 out of 24 were giving out stickers and – more importantly – 20 out of 24 had mild on. Several old favourites it was nice to visit again – Costello’s, the Stalybridge Buffet Bar and of course the Tap – and four places I’d never been before (Ladybarn SC, Tapsters, the Halfway House and Bridge Beers). (And I really must get back to Reasons one of these days.)

Many thanks to the organisers for making Mild Magic possible, again – it’s good to have it back.

Around Manchester on a pint of mild (2)

More on Mild Magic, CAMRA’s annual campaign to promote mild around Manchester.

One of the pleasures of Mild Magic is connecting up assorted pubs and bars in a single route – particularly when it means getting to somewhere you don’t usually go without having to make a special trip. It doesn’t always work out; this time round I decided not to fit Reasons to be Cheerful into my Didsbury trip (of which more anon), but never managed to work out another route it would fit into. What I did manage this year, courtesy of a £10 all-you-can-eat bus/train/tram pass, was Stalybridge via Droylsden and Ashton.

At the Silly Country my notes have let me down; I could tell you what was on two of the handpumps (viz. two different flavoured ciders); I could draw you a map of the layout and tell you where I was sitting; I could even name several of the books on the bookshelves, but I can’t tell you the name of the dark mild I had. It was pretty good, though. (It definitely wasn’t Pomona Mild Peril, which TSC had had on, as that’s 6% and I would have (a) remembered and (b) had a half.) The Silly Country – a craft beer bar in a shopping-centre unit, in Droylsden – wouldn’t have been on my list of Bars Most Likely To Succeed, but it’s been there four years now and seems to be doing OK (and the mild, whatever it was, was in good nick). Good luck to them.

Back on the tram to Ashton, where I decided to tick off the (restricted-opening) Halfway House before trying anywhere more central. I’m not sure where it’s halfway to, but it would have to be pretty good if you were going to get me doing the other half on foot. I did get a bus part of the way, but ‘part’ was the operative word – the usually-reliable Moovit app suggested that my best route was “get on bus, sit down, count to ten, stand up, get off bus, walk uphill through terraced streets for 15 minutes”, and like a fool I believed it. The Halfway House turned out to be a back street pub on the old “large detached house” model, with three rooms, three customers and two handpumps. They had had a mild on, apparently, but no longer; I had a pint of Bass, which was perfectly fine.

Then back into the centre, which took a while – that side of Ashton isn’t really optimised for foot traffic – and took me down a lot of streets where all the shops were closed and there was nobody around but bored teenagers. As it was a Saturday lunchtime this seemed odd, to say no more than that. Perhaps I’ve been spoiled by living in Chorlton. Fortified by a couple of pies from the covered market, I went in search of Tapster’s, and found… a nightclub. A nightclub from the 1970s or 80s, specifically – chrome, deep pile carpets, black leather, low lighting… And, er, cask beer. There was no mild on, so I had a half of Bridge Beers Galaxy. The bartender told me they had a Bridge Beers mild, but it was still settling; we had a bit of a chat about the brewery, who he rated highly.

Next stop was the aforesaid bridge – viz. Staly – and my first call was Bridge Beers itself, where the brewery’s beers are served on gravity, from nines behind the bar. I had a half of Bridge Beers mild, which was really good. Ordinarily I would have either made it a pint or stopped for another half or two – I’d enjoyed the Galaxy & was quite tempted by the “Galaxy Export Strength”, even though “export strength” turned out to be 5% – but.. Well, it’s a social distancing thing, or rather an ‘enclosed space’ thing. I’d managed to mute, or at least snooze, my inner Covid Alert in all the places I’d visited so far – “well, it’s quite airy”; “well, it’s quite a big place”; “OK, it’s a small place with no windows at all, but… actually it’s quite big, and anyway there’s hardly anyone in”… But Bridge Beers was (a) tiny, (b) packed (there must have been eight other customers in there, maybe even ten) and (c) frankly a bit stuffy – you know how, when you’re in a crowded room, after a while the air starts to feel a bit moist? That.

So I regretfully supped up and moved on to my last stop of the day, the Buffet Bar. I went there 28 years ago to my certain knowledge (and that may not have been the first time); it hasn’t changed a lot. Sadly there wasn’t a mild to be had, but as they had Jaipur on cask I didn’t feel too hard done by. A half of that was followed by a half of Thornbridge/Neon Raptor Pandora’s Box, an 8% DIPA (on keg, naturally). Which was fine – lots of tropical fruit, lots of alcohol – but no more than that; I should just have had a pint of Jaipur, or maybe two.

Another trip out took me to Sale and Altrincham – not an actual train trip, admittedly, although it did involve travelling on a railway line.

In Sale I decided against trekking up the A56 to the Volunteer, and went to the J. P. Joule (JDW) next to the stationtram stop. It was early in the day, so I broke my rule and had a half, of Phoenix Monkeytown Mild. It was a fairly light-bodied dark mild, not particularly sweet, with a slightly stout-like bitter finish. I wasn’t bowled over, but it would probably work better over a full pint.

In Altrincham I went to the Old Market Tavern. I’ve seen it buzzing in the past, but that was at night. On this particular Saturday lunchtime, this big, open pub, a bit outside the town centre, not serving food (despite signs claiming otherwise), was about as busy as you’d expect. I imagine food service was a casualty of the pandemic, as I think was also the case for the Buffet Bar. Bringing it back would be a big step, but without it a place like the Old Market has lost a lot of its appeal, at least during the day. They also didn’t have any mild on, but a pint of Lees‘ MPA was very welcome.

Then it was over to Costello’s, where I was back on halves; the Dunham Dark would have been well worth a pint, but there was the Porter to fit in (malt extract and tobacco smoke), not to mention the Lymm Lymm Dam. There’s a certain kind of beer of which I always want to say that it “rings like a bell”. I’m not entirely sure what I mean by that(!), but it’s usually an old ale, an abbey beer or a top-end strong bitter; Ticketybrew Pale qualified, for example. It’s a certain combination of body, fullness of flavour (without cloying sweetness or cough-mixture heaviness) and strength. Anyway, that half of Lymm Dam absolutely rang like a bell. (And the Dunham Dark was a very good mild.)

Three pubs and five bars – or if you’re being picky, three pubs, four bars and one micro-pub; quite a variety of places, anyway. And eight venues got me eight stickers and five milds – a bit less impressive than the 8/9 scored by central Manchester and Stockport (see previous post), but not bad.

Next: making some local calls.

Around Manchester on a pint of mild (1)

Mild Magic – CAMRA’s annual campaign to promote mild around Manchester – is back for 2022; slightly to my surprise, I’m even taking part myself. (“Look how the figures are falling at the moment” did battle with “Look at all the people who’ve been posting pictures of their positive tests”; it wasn’t a foregone conclusion, but optimism eventually won, thanks in part to an intervention by “it’s not as if I’m not going to the pub already”.) 24 pubs, 24 different areas, mostly on weekday afternoons (being a part-timer has its benefits) – it’s been fun, and hopefully it hasn’t been excessively risky.

The main difference with previous years, as far as I’m concerned, is that I’ve decided to have a pint where possible. The weekday afternoon trade tends to be slack, for obvious reasons, and in previous years’ MMs I’ve sat in quite a few pubs and bars that were otherwise completely empty. If I was going to be the only custom a bar had in half an hour, I didn’t want to seem like a cheapskate into the bargain – especially post-pandemic. Also, it’s mild – a good mild should be pintable, even to the point of being a “disappearing beer“.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here’s the first instalment of pubs on this year’s MM itinerary, covering central Manchester and Stockport.

I started at the Briton’s Protection, a landmark pub with reliably good and interesting beer, now sadly under threat (petition here). The mild they had on was 4Ts Old School, which was… fine. To be more positive about it, it was – as the name implies – an old-school dark mild: malty, sweetish, light-textured, absolutely nothing striking or unexpected about it. Which meant that it went down very easily.

I had an odd experience at the Waterhouse (JDW). There was a pump for Rudgate Ruby Mild, which is what I duly ordered, but I didn’t see the server draw it – she disappeared to the other end of the bar and came back with my pint some minutes later. (I checked afterwards and there wasn’t another mild tap at that end.) Maybe she had it ‘banked’, although I can’t imagine why. It was a nice mild, anyway – fruity and full-flavoured, with a lot of body.

Also in – or near – the city centre are the New Oxford and the Piccadilly Tap; I know I had a mild in both places but I didn’t make a note of it, sadly. Both places had a big range of beers on tap, as ever – and, as ever, an impressive range of Belgian bottles at the Oxford – but nothing that made me feel the need to stop for another.

A city-centre pub that wasn’t an old haunt of mine – I think I’d only been in once before – was the Lower Turk’s Head. There are pubs that, when you see them in daylight, look as if they come into their own at night, and the Turk’s Head was definitely one of those. The Holt’s Cherry Mild was excellent, though – not especially sweet or fruity, but a big, complex flavour, far superior to the standard mild.

As for the Stockport leg of my MM journey, that began at the Ladybarn Social Club. I was initially foxed by the “entry by key fob only” notice on the door and considered going elsewhere, before reasoning that it must be possible for non-members to get in and trying the door buzzer. Of course, it was fine – just a matter of signing in as a guest – and I had a pint of Dunham’s Chocolate Cherry Mild, which was really good. The signing-in process took a bit of a while to organise, as did the hunt for the MM stickers, and I was slightly concerned that I was going to miss the next bus. Once I’d got my pint, I realised I needn’t have worried. The flavour of the CCM is just as big as the name implies, but the chocolate and cherry notes don’t feel bolted-on – it just tastes like a dark mild that happens to taste of those things. (Cf. Ticketybrew’s “Frankenstein beers” with hops-and-barley flavour profiles duplicated – and heightened – by the use of additions.) And it goes down extraordinarily easily. After this and the 4Ts, I started to wonder if the roster of disappearing beers needed to be updated to include traditional dark milds (and some less traditional ones).

In Stockport itself, the recently-revived Crown didn’t have a mild on, but only because it had run off the previous night, when (the licensees were keen to impress on me) the place had been rammed. It was Sunday afternoon, just after lunch; I had a half of Brimstage Oystercatcher stout, and I didn’t see another soul while I was there. It’s hard to come back from closure, and I wish the new licensees luck with it.

The Cocked Hat, by contrast, had a good complement of regulars, a word which here means “person sitting at the bar who looks round at you suspiciously as you come in” (an experience I’ve had in there before, although oddly enough the pub was under different management). It also had big screen sport with the sound off, together with piped music – a weird and unappealing combination (also seen at the Lower Turk’s Head). I decided to break my pint rule and had a half of Timothy Taylor’s Dark Mild – a fairly rare bird, which I’ve enjoyed a lot in the past. Either it’s not as good now as it used to be or the half I had was in poor nick; I wasn’t impressed, anyway.

Lastly, I broke the pints rule again at the Petersgate Tap, but this was because they had Ashover Victorian Ruby Mild on – and it’s 7%. There’s no reason to imagine that a Victorian time traveller would call it anything but a mild – and matching Victorian styles to anything we’d recognise now is a mug’s game – and  but for what it’s worth this tasted like a strong old ale or a light-ish barley wine; it was terrific, either way. (But a half was enough.)

Counting the Ladybarn SC as a pub – and it’s certainly the pubbiest social club I’ve ever seen; I could name pubs that look more like a social club – that’s seven pubs and two bars; nine venues, nine stickers, eight milds.

Next: two train trips