Beer Compurgation

Update: As this page still receives so many views, I feel I should direct you to my second, more favourable post on the subject, after you have read this one.  You should attempt to grow up in Manchester with a Liverpudlian mother and extensive family heralding from the Merseyside city. As sacrilegious as many of my Mancunian friends have found it, Liverpool has long been my favourite city. It has a lot of history and character that Manchester was always lacking in my youth. There were several areas to explore. Everything from the engaging design of the cathedrals to the oddity of the dock area made it a much more fascinating citadel than I was accustomed to. But, in my older years, I have struggled to convince my friends that we should go drinking there, as they hide behind their rather terrace-like prejudices. It is because of this that I have only been around Liverpool’s pubs on a couple of occasions, the main instance being quite a few years back. It included my first v...

There are no rules to drinking beer. You may fancy a tipple at this moment, despite it being just an ordinary day, with nothing spectacular occurring and nobody else present. You might not really be in the mood for anything specific. You might just be satisfied with an orange juice but took to a beer because it was there. And that beer you’ve reached for might be a frozen can of your most tasteless lager that the off license had on offer. It’ll suffice. Or it might be the rarest, double barrel aged, triple hopped, cinnamon infused, overpriced crafted drink that cost £35 from an independent shop in South Devon. The truth is, I don’t know why I would reach for the latter on a regular night. For whatever reason, on a personal preference, when I buy rare or expensive beers, I find myself storing them away until I have special reason to bring them out; a reason that never transpires. However, through the power of social media, I often see people supping the beers I have stockpiled in ...

Perhaps if this had been three years ago I would really have lamented the loss of the National Winter Ales Festival in Manchester . Not only has it long been held in my home city, but it was also my first ever beer festival, signifying a special place in my heart. That first visit was in 2006 and the event was then held in a co–operative building near Victoria station. At the time, my young ale loving mind was rather gobsmacked by the wondrous multi roomed, multi floored experience as barrels and casks of the good stuff stood waiting for me to try at no more than 90p for a generous half pint. Breweries and beer styles I had never heard of were present. It was also where I had my first taste of rauchbier, an encounter I have never regretted. I paid £3 to enter that day as a non CAMRA member. The organisations members that did travel with me on the occasion entered the festival for free (so they say, I’m inclined to believe they paid at least £1.) “They’re not a money making ...

Perhaps I'm too uncool these days to get "it." Perhaps my cynicism is the antidote to irony making my relation to the current trend in Manchester distant. For Manchester, my beloved home city that I have seen grow up and mature so in the past few years, has become the fresher year student of cities. No, I do not mean that it focuses on actual student nightlife, I mean that it is arrogant, sarcastic, rebellious and too cool for cool. It is a city that has found its own freedom and identity for the first time and is using this new found independence to put a proverbial middle finger to the rest of the cities. We are different. We are not compliant. We are irony. My new vision of Manchester has begun to form slowly over the past six months but was confirmed by a recent visit to Gorilla down the Oxford Road end of the city last Saturday night; my first to this bar. Gorilla is owned by the gurus behind Trof for whom I have a fondness for as well as their siblings. I am c...

Now that the Magi have arrived and the decorations have finally been removed, the mince pies have been forced down and the detox has begun, it’s presumably time to get writing again. It’s been an incredibly hectic festive period ever since I wrote about the joys ofwindow 21 and I’ve barely paused for breath to bring any updates. After all that effort, endurance and exertion, my Advent Calendar limped to a sorry finish. After my last post for Window 21, work finished for the holidays and the festive joviality took over. Windows 22 and 23 never happened due to time restrictions. (They would have been Leffe Christmas and Innis and Gunn’s Winter Treacle Porter) I did, however, manage to sneak in Window 24 on the correct date, just before leaving for another evening of social drinking. Window 24 was Mikkeller’s Santa’s Little Helper 2012 10.9% . I was rather excited about this, despite wanting to age it slightly. It may have been possible to get hold of a 2009 or 2010 version, but ...

I’ve had to do some unusual drinking in my endeavour to complete this calendar. But nothing as unusual, or as enjoyable, as Window 21’s beer. When the window was revealed to hold Brouwerij Huyghe's Delirium Christmas 10% (usually known as Delirium Noel but not in this instance) I was rather excited, but as I needed to be in work Friday morning until 12, and then was out straight after work until the early hours, it became clear that this beer would have to be consumed in working hours. Since the final Friday before Christmas is a pointless exercise, where everyone walks around the works stock taking and pretending to tidy, I figured nobody would really mind if I had this during works hours. In a moment of sheer geekery, I was greatly entertained by placing the beer around unusual work stock for photos, hence, the sheer amount of pictures. A clear amber colour, the nose was toffee apples, sweet bread and plenty of winter berries. The taste was terrific, really fusi...

Time for the Saints to arrive. Tis their season after all… First is St Feuillien’s Cuvee deNoel 9% . I’ve had a few from this Belgian Abbey brewer this past year, including their saison for the #supsaison event. I’ve found them traditional, enjoyable, yet unremarkable so far. I’ve already prejudged this Christmas exertion early. With a volcanic head on top of millilitres of flushed liquid, this beer retains those becoming-all-too-familiar scents that we’ve basically described as mincemeat, sherry or dried fruits at least six times this Advent. It’s becoming all too predictable. As is the taste. I suggested St Feuillien are traditionalists and they’ve reinforced that theory with this beer. It is, once more, sweet bordering on saccharine, spiced without breaking out the cinnamon sticks, more sherry than ale and more caramac than caramel. It is, what I have now come to understand as, a traditional Belgian Christmas ale. It is well executed, well balanced, easy drinking despite t...