Elitism in Beer

So here's a question with which to start this years blogging. Setting aside any debates about keg vs. cask, or what constitutes 'craft' beer, or whether Tim Webb has a point when he suggests that CAMRA have achived their goals and should cast their net wider, what constitutes elitism in beer?

I've been mulling this one over since our work Christmas party, covered fairly thoroughly here by m'colleague Ghost Drinker, who very dilligently recorded what we drank over the course of a few hours in The Grove Inn, Huddersfield. If you don't know The Grove, I think it's fair to say that it's a beer geek's dream. But at the same time, it's a very honest, down-to-earth pub where the profusion of well-chosen beers are very reasonably priced. It's a very good pub - it's not a bar, or a restaurant with beers, but an honest-to-goodness pub.

Now, if you haven't read Tandleman's beer blog, you should - there is a lot of well-considered opinion on there. I think it's fair to say that we've had the odd ding-dong (see here for the latest example), and he very kindly commends me to his readers here, with the caveat that the beers I write about are hard to come by.

This absolutely isn't a snipe at Tandleman in particular, who I like and respect very much, but more of an observation that there is something of a split among beer drinkers between those who want to try everything they can, at any price (see, for example, the BrewDog shop's guest beer list), and those who clearly draw the line somewhere.

But it does make me wonder: If I can go into a pub in small town in Yorkshire and buy these beers, are they in any way elitist? They may be imported, out-there, flavour of the moment and expensive (in relative terms, even at The Grove) but does that make them elitist? Or is elitism just another word for expensive?

For the record, of the four beers pictured above (photo by Ghost Drinker), they were all (for me) pretty much undrinkable, except for the Celebrator, which shone out as a stone-cold classic.

Now Drinking: Thornbridge Larkspur

I must be bloody mad.

The M62 motorway has a certain notoriety. It is a hideously busy stretch of trans-Pennine tarmac that carries the dubious honour of being the highest motorway in the UK. It is also featured in The KLF's "It's Grim Up North" - "Morecambe, Macclesfield, Lytham St. Annes, Clitheroe, Cleethorpes, the M62 - its grim up north", a list of everything that might be thought to be soul-sucking and lifeless in the north of England, set over a pounding industrial acid techno beat.

Had I planned my visit a bit better, I would have used public transport and taken a long afternoon over this visit to The Grove Inn in Huddersfield. The pub itself is nothing short of sensational, a beer geek's dream, featuring permanent hand pumps from the cream of the new wave of British brewing - Thornbridge, Marble, BrewDog, Dark Star, - alongside a smattering of classics - Timothy Taylor, Burton Bridge, Fullers. In fact, this pub demands a long and leisurely session. Why have I spent a torturous rush-hour driving here for a single pint?

I'll tell you why. I got severely twitchy that a certain beer would run out before I got to try it - there were only 35 casks made this year, and eight of them passed through the possession of Ian, landlord of The Grove. He very generously passed five of these on to Eddie at Gadds brewery - I can only assume he hadn't tried the beer before he agreed to that. The beer is Thornbridge Larkspur (5.2%abv), a pale gold single-hop beer based around the hop variety Citra.

I use the term beer loosely. I know that this is beer, because it came out of a brewery, and is made of water, pale malt, hops and yeast. But no beer has ever tasted like this. The first sniff and mouthful, and I'm transported back to my first ever visit to Leeds, in the early 1990s, and buying fresh samosas and Rubicon mango juice drink at Maumoniat's Asian supermarket on Brudenell Grove. That first ever taste of mango juice, perfumed and almost indecently musky, was a shock to the senses, but a discovery of a pleasure that has stayed with me. In fact, for a while, I cursed the empty years that I lived without Rubicon mango juice, and devoted my life to drinking as much of it as I could.

That's the beauty of great beer - it transports you to another place, or another time, while rooting you to the spot, forcing you to pay attention to what is happening on your palate. Thornbridge Larkspur is a riot of mango juice, passion fruit, musk, a hint of vanilla custard, tangerine, peach, a nameless floral perfume, and a snap of biscuity pale malt husk in the steadily building bitterness of the finish. It's there and then it's gone, intense, but fleeting, demanding you take another sip, when the whole hokey-cokey of exotica starts over again. And again. And again, until the glass is empty.

That's not a beer, that's a love potion.

The Grove Inn, Huddersfield

I like places that exceed expectation. The bar with tapas that I mentioned a few posts ago is a case in point. My good lady tells me I came over a bit lukewarm about it - I'm not, I thought it was very good, and delivered far beyond our expectations.

If I may be so bold, I also think that the shop I manage, Beer-Ritz in Leeds, delivers beyond expectations. With a band of merry bloggers about to arrive in a few days, I may be setting myself up for a fall by saying this, but I like to think that the combination of backwater location, slightly shabby exterior, and a metric shedload of good beers delivers far beyond what anyone expects if they've never visited before.

Another place that is something of an over-achiever is The Grove Inn, Huddersfield. We went their recently for our annual staff outing, and aside from their being an absurd number of great bottles and casks to chose from, the thing that did it for me was the disparity between it's ordinary pubbiness, and it's beery eclecticism.

It's a little walk from the station, but well worth the effort. I love the fact that there are so many beers on offer that the staff need a map to find them (seriously). It took a couple of goes for me to be served with an Ayinger Celebrator Doppelbock, despite my description of it having a little plastic goat hanging from the neck. When the bottle eventually appeared, it did so accompanied with a classic dry aside: "Goat? It looks more like a bloody antelope to me"

Anyway, have a look at the regularly updated draught menu and the list of bottles, and judge for yourself. It's like an ordinary pub, but brilliant.

Here we are, returning from the Grove, having a beer on Huddersfield station. We bought a bottle of De Molen Summink or Oeder to take out, and before you think ill of us, we brought the glasses with us. We had a bottle of Deus and an Ola Dubh 40yr Old on the train on the way there, just to liven the palate a bit. The top pic is one of Ron Pattinson's historically accurate beers, brewed at De Molen. On the basis of this bottle alone, both Ron and Menno rock.

Get Back to Work

Today is my first day of work since December 23rd 2009. By all accounts, the shop is devoid of stock, and we're about to get hit with a load of snow, so my work today is going to be (a) keeping warm and (b) ordering enough stock to make the shop look like a shop again.

Priorities are: restocking with local beers; finding what Sierra Nevada beers are available; how well has BrewDog done over the New Year; and planning our works outing on the 11th January. I'm hoping that it coincides with the cask of De Molen's Blood, Sweat & Tears Bruichladdich Cask Finish going on at The Grove Inn in Huddersfield. Now that would be a party to remember (or at least try to remember)