Westward ho

Back in 2002 I spent several months diligently travelling around Devon and Cornwall visiting every brewery (apart from Sharps for some reason or other) for the purpose of my first book West Country Ales. It was great fun and it gave me a snapshot of the beer scene in the west as it was at the time. Challenger seemed to be the most popular hop, but several breweries were using US varieties including Mount Hood, Willamette and Cascade. There were IPAs, most of which were low-alcohol session beers in the tradition of Greene King’s, though Teighworthy at Tuckers Maltings produced a citrus-tinged East India Pale Ale (they also brewed an Arctic Ale and a Russian Imperial Porter). That was then. Now, all manner of beers are being brewed in the West — sure there are trad bitters and some are very good, but there is also a sense of exploration (and maybe bandwagon jumping as well…) and consolidation.

The reason for this train of retrospective thought? Last week I was sent some beers by Penpont in Cornwall, a brewery that first came to my attention last year after they attempted to brew a white ale, which was apparently popular in south Devon around Newton Abbott in the 19^th century (I think they left out the pigeon droppings, which were supposedly to be added to the brew). 

So here goes. The immediate impression of Penpont Porter (5.8%) is as if someone has sprinkled an earthy, not so sweet cocoa powder on the top of the nose of this creamy but slightly acidic (in a good way) beer. 19^th century porter says the brewery, but who knows what the beer of that time tasted like? Meanwhile back in the present, there was a ringing, singing tone of bitterness going on in the finish that brought me back to take another taste. I swooned over the juxtaposition of the sweet, slightly bitter chocolate character in the mouth and the accompanying acidity that sat in the middle of the palate; meanwhile I doted on the nuttiness that wasn’t too overwhelming (hazelnut dipped in cocoa perhaps), the nudge of mocha coffee, and the boost of bitterness that made me think that this beer would prove to be an excellent appetiser for something like a juicy frankfurter. 

Then there was 1127 (6.4%), Penpont’s take on Abbey beer. The nose was sweet and crystalline, leathery and petrolly (Riesling?) with a chime of delicate fruitiness (no single fruit but just a universal fruitiness); it was aromatic on the palate, aromatic woodiness perhaps; it was sweet and boozy; dry, vinous, berry-like; with a fat mouth feel — I discovered that it went furiously well with an artisanal Red Leicester, urging out the cheese’s elemental creaminess.  I liked it. 

Finally, there was An Howl Reserve IPA (7%), which sadly I wasn’t so impressed by. This felt a bit flat in the glass, with a cut apple greenness on the nose, with some accompanying solvent notes; on the palate it was boozy, thick and viscous, bittersweet, with some banana and papaya, with a dry, bitter and boozy in the finish. It wasn’t a disaster but I wasn’t moved and it also made me wonder, what on earth is an IPA these days? Does anyone really know?

So there you are — a couple of excellent beers along with something that could be called a work in progress perhaps. Maybe it’s time for me to update West Country Ales.

Lager of the week — St Mungo

What on earth is going on? This is a seriously good British (or should I say Scottish?) craft lagered beer. West is inspired by the enviable beer culture of Franconia, but their best seller St Mungo reminds me of a Bohemian Pils — whatever side of the border it falls on it’s a pretty stupendous lager, emanating from the home of Tennant’s, the grandfather and grandmother of cooking lagers. The nose is resiny, I’m thinking good Pilsner Urquell, a bodacious and sensual body with a dry bitter finish, a very dry finish that suggests you might need another (and I bloody will have another). I would contend it’s closer to a Bohemian Pilsner than a Helles, but I would also say this is a very modern lager, and perhaps indicative of the attitude that Franconia has to beer as opposed to the Reinheitsgebot-happy drones of a lot of the German brewing industry (though West do adhere to the Law). It’s fantastic and it’s probably one of the best British craft lagers I have had for ages (I also worship at the feet of Meantime’s Vienna, Pils and Festbier, while Taddington, Cotswold and Freedom, as well as a growing clutch of others, have my vote — and just in case you are interested, this is all part of ongoing research for a feature). West: where have you been all my life?

The last of the Christmas beers

It was time it went, after all I hadn’t drunk anything from it since New Year’s Eve. I’m talking of the 5-litre mini cask of Devonshire 10-Der I got from Country Life just before Christmas. This is a 10% barley wine-strong ale hybrid produced by a North Devon brewery based in the most unlikeliest of places — a theme park devoted to all things ovine (The Big Sheep, great for young kids up to about 8 and there’s a brewery and shop onsite as well). Anyway, I thought it time that the empty keg was put out for recycling. It’s been in my cellar that is usually 6-8˚c at this time of the year. It had been vented as well so all sorts of changes were happening. There was only about a third of a pint left so I thought I would do a spot of responsible drinking. Wow. It was still and limid in the glass, a texture reminiscent of the silken waters of the Cam at Granchester, calm enough to swim in. Chocolate and roasted coffee beans, a fiery alcoholic nature and a rye biscuit dryness in the finish still enticed. Grown up and worthy of a cigar (if I smoked, which I don’t), silken dressing gown and a lambskin-bound edition of, let’s say, The Devil Rides Out (and the wind howling outside). Fortunately, it’s all gone now so the family are spared the above spectacle.
Mentioning The Devil Rides Out reminds me of the time my mate Mark got married several years back and he and his missus held the reception at a country hotel Shepperton way that was the home of Christopher Lee’s character in the original film. He organised a barrel of Alton Pride from Triple fff for the do in the evening. Top man.

Even when I’m out shooting for the table the talk is of beer

Out rough shooting on Dartmoor yesterday with a bunch of guys and when the talk turns to beer it’s all about cask beer — I like Tribute says one chap, almost licking his lips, another has a Proper Job pump-clip on the grill of his 4x4, one fella, about to become a father, bemoans the fact he can’t get Otter Ale in his local near Oakhampton, while another says which Sharps beer he likes (interestingly enough, not Doom Bar, in fact I rarely come across people in the West Country who like it, it seems to be people from off; I like Cornish Coastliner and Eden Ale, as well as Stuart Howe’s experimental stuff). It’s a sign of the times, a few years ago you were like an alien species if you mentioned beer while out shooting, but now beer — cask most definitely, though some will nod sagely when you mention Budvar or even Herold Dark — has a real buzz about it and the people talking about it with me are not your archetypal CAMRA activists, these are dentists, farmers, businessmen, builders, gamekeepers, and even a pest controller (to emphasise this enthusiasm, there’s a line in one of the papers today about an officer who was killed in Afghanistan and how his love for Old Speckled Hen was met with bemusement by his Stella-loving squaddies — ok it’s OSH but it’s still beer). People are getting wise to beer, getting comfortable with talking about beer, which is what we want (as the beer advert of ancient times used to say). These are great times and I just might have a beer, a Crown Smoked Oktoberfest awaits.