Beneath Bologna

Bologna. Ambling up from the station, the town centre a target. Two friends embrace on a crossing, while a patient taxi driver waits — the amiable anarchy of Bologna. A middle aged man cycles by whistling accompanied by the staccato clack on heels on the marble floor as a woman rushes by — late for her train perhaps? Sound is all around. Conversations, melodic highs and lows, echoing beneath the high ceiling porticoes, dashed and splashed with the unsigned frescoes of the city’s artists. In the old city centre, Osteria del Sole — bring your own Mortadella and bread and cheese and order a glass of Theresianer Pils and listen to people talk: students discuss ways in which the world can be saved; couples pick at each others’ lunches, the intimacy of familiarity; the Goth/rock chick barmaid hands out a chopping board and knife; original artworks by patrons can be seen rolled out on the walls; the chatter, the clink of the glasses, the debates, the integration, the deliberation, the lack of the iPad.

Later that day, a stroll out of the centre into the Birroteca La Tana del Luppolo (which apparently translates as Lair of Hops), small, a shop that is now a bar, to be found in a precinct like area. Above the wooden bar, the chiselled, hewed, carved, birthed from the earth wooden bar, an empty barrel hangs, its fangs forever drawn, a signifier that beer is the diet here. Two dogs engage in the corner, a small funny bundle of pup fur and a Dachshund cross. Blanche des Neiges, Birrifico Italiano Cinnamon Bitter and La Rulles Estivale on draught while lots of bottles hover in the fridges. Big open window, the street passes by and I’m told it was a home brew shop before it went into selling beer at the bar. And to come there is a story that includes BrewDog, Flying Dog, La Senne, St Feuillien, Rochefort, Thornbridge and Brewfist who have been or will be turning up and the following night Agostino from Birrifico Italiano will be there as well. And then sitting there with my glass of Cinnamon Bitter I’m thinking about how during the day I visited the place where the canal that was part of the network that used to vein its way through Bologna emerges into daylight on Via Malcontenti, a hidden part of the city, a place where fast flowing waters cut through a frayed, crumbling, naked part of old Bologna before vanishing beneath another street and no one knows of its existence — and I think how like this subterranean network the beer culture of Bologna is. And I like that.

Bristol beer

Last month I wrote a piece on the Bristol beer scene for the Western Daily Press, which was printed at the start of the month. As far as I can see it’s not online so I thought I would post the article as I filed it to the newspaper (don’t think it was changed much), mainly because I think there’s a lot of good stuff happening out there at the moment and — personally — I’m off to Arbor Ales to brew on Friday, a rye mild dry hopped with Tettnang with possibly some Golden Naked Oats in the mix…

Milk stout is the beer style that time forgot. Think about that bottle of Mackeson tucked away on the lower shelf in the pub, usually in the company of the equally obscure Gold Label Barley Wine. Mackeson is seen as a beer for the elderly, a nostalgic beer (‘by golly it’s good for you,’ said actor Bernard Miles in a 1960s TV advert), utterly forgotten. Or is it?

Back in 2006, Bristol Beer Factory had other ideas when they released their Milk Stout in time for the Bristol Beer Festival. They were obviously doing something right as the 4.5% newcomer went on to win beer of the festival. This creamy dark delight is now a regular in their portfolio.

‘We found out that the Ashton Gate Brewery produced a milk stout at the beginning of the 1900s,’ says Bristol Beer Factory’s Managing Director Simon Bartlett. ‘When Georges took over the brewery the Milk Stout was one of the beers, possibly the only one, that they kept brewing. We thought it would be a great idea to revive the style.’

Even though most would argue that Bristol is first and foremost a cider city (recall the furore over Blackthorn’s recipe change in 2009?), it also has a formidable brewing heritage. In the late 18^th century, Georges was sending porter to Ireland and over the next 150 years became a major regional force as it devoured the city’s breweries. This included Ashton Gate in the 1930s, and as fate would have it Bristol Beer Factory is based in the brewery’s former fermentation block. Georges were then bought out by Courage who themselves left the city at the start of the 21^st century.

There was plenty of other brewing action. The real ale revolution of the 1970s saw the creation of Smiles and Butcombe, while in the 1990s Bath Ales (paradoxically located in Bristol) brought their own sense of beer style and pubs to the city. The city of Bath got in on the action in 1997 with Abbey Ales.

Now there’s another wave with Bristol Beer Factory, Arbor Ales and brewpub Zero Degrees leading the charge, (while Ashley Down Brewery came into being last year). Over in Bath, Abbey Ales continue to rule the roost, while surrounding areas harbour Great Western, Cheddar and Dawkins. Local beer and brewing is on a roll.

There is a wonderful diversity of beers being produced. Zero Degrees is a brewpub in the American model — stainless steel aesthetics, brewing kit on show and great modish food including fantastic pizzas. The beers include a dark lager, a well hopped Pale Ale and a Bavarian wheat beer amongst others.

Bristol Beer Factory and Arbor also look westwards for their inspiration, towards the American craft beer brewing revolution, which has influenced beer lovers in the UK and throughout the world. For a start this influence means lot more hops. It also brings experiments — beer aged in whisky casks or beer with various fruits added.

This influence was notably seen last year when Bristol Beer Factory produced the ‘12 stouts of Christmas’. This include a variety of themes on the ubiquitous dark beer — a couple were matured in whisky casks; another was infused with raspberry, while the chilli chocolate stout was a luscious success.

According to the brewery’s Business Development Manager Andrew Cooper, the 12 Stouts of Christmas was one of the reasons the company won ‘Best Drinks Producer’ in the BBC Food and Farming Awards. ‘They said that they loved the idea, but also our involvement in the local community and the sense of looking forward and our attempts to grow the beer scene in Bristol.’

Arbor Ales opened in 2007 after network engineer Jon Comer took redundancy and decided to make something of his home brew habit. ‘I was commuting to Reading and had had enough,’ he tells me as we sit in Arbor’s Three Tuns in the Hotwells area.

‘The idea to start the brewery was born in the Hobgoblin pub in Reading, which a good friend of mine was running at the time. I'd taken a small barrel of my beer down for him and it ended being served up to the pub regulars. The beer disappeared in no time followed by plenty of calls to quit the day job.’

He was originally based in a Bristol pub but the brewery has recently moved to an industrial estate in the Lawrence Hill area. Jon does the majority of the brewing, while brother-in-law Namaya Reynolds looks after the pub side of things (Arbor also own the Old Stillage in Redfield).

‘My brewing philosophy is simple,’ says Comer in between sips of his nutty Mild West. ‘We brew beers we like drinking ourselves. I never look at the price of anything that goes into the beer until after I've made it and need to work out how much to charge for it. The main aim is to keep things interesting, both the beers themselves and the work involved in making them. I'd get bored to death making the same copper coloured beer week in week out.’

Some of the experiments have included a 500-minute IPA, where hops were added to the boil over eight hours and 20 minutes, which Comer says was ‘pretty exhausting’. There is also the so-called Freestyle Friday. ‘This is when we rock up at the brewery and ask ourselves what we are going to brew.’

With all these breweries chasing a tough market you would think that they would be at each others throats. It’s a fact of business life that beers have to be sold, but there is also a sense of community, which manifests itself in so called collaboration brews.

Last year, Arbor, Bath, Bristol Beer Factory and Zero Degrees collaborated on a strong Belgian style Tripel. It was well received. This year, the four of them are joined by Weston Super Mare’s RCH — at the time of writing there are rumours of an American-style Double IPA, once again for the Bristol Beer Festival in March. (They subsequently produced a stout)

‘Mostly it's just for a bit of fun,’ says Comer. ‘But it’s also an opportunity to learn a few tricks from each other. The big collaboration we're doing with all the other Bristol breweries is something a bit different as there are so many involved. The aim here is to showcase the Bristol brewing scene and draw some attention to the great beers that are being produced here.’

And what about Bath Ales, those relative veterans of the brewing scene? They have not been sitting still. They recently opened Beerd in Cotham, a modern beer bar serving a mixture of real ale and keg draft beer from around the world. The focus is on good beer whether real ale or keg, though forget about Watney’s Red Barrel making a comeback. The keg beers of today are flavoursome stouts, IPAs and lagers.

‘We do three keg beers and we are currently experimenting with a wheat beer and a non matured lager style,’ says Bath Ales Managing Director Roger Jones. ‘The decision is dictated by the saturation of cask beers and the demands of more experimental younger beer drinkers.’

These are exciting times in beer and Bristol is riding this wave. It’s a city that has not always been that well known for beer with Smiles Best, Courage Best and flat Draught Bass (as served in the Star in Bath) being particular favourites. No one is taking anything for granted.

‘There is still a perception in Bristol that beer is yellow, cold and fizzy, or brown, warm and flat,’ says Jon Comer. ‘A lot of education is needed and it is a battle we will continue to fight. I’m pretty sure we won’t win the cider battle but we will win the ‘beer education’ battle’.

Five of the best

Arbor Ales Breakfast Stout, 7.4% — As dark as a moonless night with a creamy, mocha-like character on the palate. Has real coffee beans and chocolate in the mix. www.arborales.co.uk

Bristol Beer Factory Southville Hop, 6.5% — Dark gold with ripe peach skin and grapefruit on the nose; a big blast of tropical fruit and citrus on the palate precedes a lingering bitter finish. www.bristolbeerfactory.co.uk

Zero Degrees Pale Ale 4.6% — Aromatic, lychee like in its fruitiness alongside a juicy malt character. A fabulous thirst-quencher or drink with one of Zero Degrees’ excellent pizzas. www.zerodegrees.co.uk/location-bristol.html

Bristol Beer Factory Raspberry Stout 7.7 % — Sticky black molasses on the palate are counterbalanced by a juicy raspberry fruitiness; there’s also a tartness that works very well with the earthy sticky sweetness of the strong stout. www.bristolbeerfactory.co.uk

Bath Ales Dark Side 4% (on keg) — Think roast coffee beans with hints of chocolate on the nose, while the creamy palate also has a bittersweet character edging towards mocha and chocolate. www.bathales.com

U Fleku

And so before checking in to my hotel at U Medvidku I know I have to get to U Fleku as it’s just a couple of streets away. Oh there it is, a creamy yellow coat of paint covering a building that wouldn’t be out of place in Bavaria. In through the door, a heavy thing with jowls (where are the antlers I wonder when I go in), and a functionary in a suit welcomes me, I blurt out Pivo and get directed into a side room where Que Sera Sera is being played by an accordionist in check trousers, the sort that I remember being called Rupert the Bear when I was a kid. To make things more comical he has the look of a Corsican bandit from some 19th century print. The room itself has a beer hall ambience — long tables, plenty of dark wood, big metal chandeliers, coloured windows, a tiled floor that must be easy to clean. The waiters, unlike the guys I remember from Dusseldorf and Köln, don’t swarm as much as decide it’s time to come in with a tray of beer. I’ll have one thank you. So here it is, the famous dark beer of U Fleku, a beer I have always wanted to try. It has a roasty, sweet, caramel character and there is a beautiful drinkability. As I take a gulp and look at the ornate pattern of wood frames on the ceiling I’m struck by its sparkling condition. Look at it, it is truly dark in colour and I think that the nose is stern and corseted with not much escaping but on the palate a spectrum of flavour is unleashed, as the straps are unloosened: sweet and dark and roasted coffee and light milkiness with a bitterness in the finish: all in perfect balance. And while I drink the beer the Corsican bandit sings and a couple from Belgium on the table next to me are asked to buy the liqueur (don’t). And I am keen to have my empty glass filled again. But it isn’t and I am going to be late for a meeting so I cover the glass with a beer mat and go. As I leave the Corsican bandit with the accordion is rooting through his pocket for change. It’s going to be a long night.