Ales, really
Hello,
Writing this one in a froth of excitement, rather than annoyance, for once. My ales are here, my lines are connected, I’ve just hammered a float into the first cask to tap, I’m absolutely delighted.
My pub is a sprawling, traditional thing - three big, separate bars and covered in beautiful wood panelling. Sort of thing that, in a different, nightmare universe you’d wish Sam Smiths did a better job of running. It’s got carpets on the floors and ironwork above the bar and it absolutely begs for real ale.
So I was very surprised to find out we not only didn’t have it but it hadn’t been in for years. No one’s quite sure what the cutoff was but probably 2017.
Since then, tragically, we’ve had Courage Best pulled off a keg. That’s, well, horrible to think about - hand pulling off a pressurised keg is about the absolute worst way to do anything and doesn’t even totally mitigate the ale evolving over its serve time, coming up sharp and yeasty towards the end of a barrel. Not that it sits there for long, we go through 11 gallons of Courage every 36 hours or so.
That was what made me confident real ale - really real ale - would sell. Look, I know there’s all sorts of grumpy beef about CAMRA refusing to recognise keg ale as ale and people getting the hump their triple-hopped grapefruit IPA can’t win beer of the year as a consequence but this is something I have a weirdly strong opinion on, for an otherwise fairly reasonable person when it comes to the practicalities of running a pub.
Real ale comes in a cask. “What’s that” you might ask “and how does it in any way differ from a keg” and then “oh god you’re going to tell us, aren’t you?”
Kegs are what’s used for lagers and ciders and Guinness and such. They keep the liquid under pressure and air sealed and they’re designed to be pumped off using gas. The beer in them is the same from top to bottom and has been filtered and pasteurised, so it won’t continue evolving or fermenting in the keg.
Cask ale is sort of the opposite of that. It comes in squishier containers (as a rule, although some are metal) that can’t take the same beating hurtling down a beer chute. It’s delicate and prone to fits. It needs a tap hammering into the top of the cask, then a 48 hour settling period, then you’ve only got a few days to sell it before it starts to ferment itself into vinegar. You can use gas to get it up the line - some of my handpulls are gas-assisted as they’re a long way from where the stillage was - but really it should come up with the suction of a cylinder (beer engine) and strength in the bartender’s arm.
What’s wrong with a reliable, consistent pint, then? Isn’t that what I’m supposed to want, as the pub landlady?
Well, yes. But my desires are unconventional. I love cask ale, I’ve always looked after it in the pubs I’ve worked in (I grew up in Brakspear country, when they were still an actual brewery and actually owned pubs) and it’s what I drink if I have a beer.
Yes it is a total pain in the arse having to take care of the stuff. I can’t tell you I’m being particularly, like, sensible here but the heart wants what it wants and that’s pottering down to the cellar to tend to my ales three times a day.
Something about a living, breathing beer that evolves from the second you hammer in the tap is just really great. Suddenly I’m not just a pint dispenser, I’m an alewife. Which is an old term for a pub landlord that I think we should absolutely bring back; yes, I am married to my ales. It’s a loving relationship, I take care of them.
This is totally the equivalent of being like “oh driving a manual just keeps you so much more in tune with the car” (does it tho) and I don’t have any time for that sort of thing. But we’ve all got our irrational foibles and this is mine: I want to make my life harder doing something no one actually needs to do (use a clutch pedal) because I like it and because not everyone can do it.
Well, that’s a lie. Everyone can do it, it’s not hard, just like driving stick. It’s just most people wouldn’t want to because it’s boring and annoying. And this is the boring, annoying hill I have chosen to die on and throw my lot in with CAMRA: ale should be in casks, kept well and tended to to make damn sure it’s a perfect pint every time.
My own blind stubbornness aside, there’s clearly a decent number of people who agree with me. And it won’t stop me getting Hepcat and Neck Oil and Reliance in on keg and tap, it’s just that I want to have the cask as well for the freaks like me.
And now I do. I’d thought it’d take months, with lines so disused but a couple of replacement cylinders and some hose, a brand new float kit and I’m away. I can’t believe I’ve got it back so fast, I’m proper chuffed.
Better go and look at my casks. Check in on them, give them a cuddle, that sort of thing.
Hazel
Ales at the Royal Oak, 270 Bexley Road:
Mighty Oak Captain Bob (3.8%)
Well-rounded and repeat-awarded amber ale. Does exactly what you want a pint of ale to do, which is taste nice and sit well in the mouth and stomach.
Mighty Oak Oscar Wilde (3.7%)
Arguably a bit strong for what I consider a mild but a lovely, dark pint with a hint of black treacle to it. Proper winter beer.
Mighty Oak Old Oaky (5.2%)
Copper beer with an almost spicy note. Reminds me of a good autumnal ale, which goes down just as well in January. Thought I had to have this one with that name.