Perfect presents for beer drinkers

As you know, my husband is a beer lover, a Casanova of the cask, an Ovid of the ale, a Mata Hari of the malt and hop (okay, I'm pushing it there).  His job involves travelling the world sipping, slurping, tasting, testing, judging beer. Some say it's the best job in the world, but that would depend on your proclivities.
Anyhow, he has been writing quite a few books recently and this one, in particular (which is just about to be published by Jacqui Small, £9.99; $14.99) caught my eye.

World Bottled Beers - 50 Classic Brews to Sip and Savour

Why did it catch my attention?  Maybe because it's shaped like a beer bottle.  When I first heard about it, I figured it was a bit gimmicky but, you know, actually it's pretty cool.  Put it this way, I don't read beer books but I keep finding myself flicking through this one.  So, I figure that, given it's coming up to Christmas (sorry, sorry), you might find it handy if you need a gift or stocking filler for anyone who likes the odd beer.

He's pretty good at the whole 'what it tastes like' thing.   The quote on the cover from Stuart Howe (of Molson Coors) puts it like this:  'Adrian describes beer with romance, balanced by the razor-edged prose of a contemporary poet.'  A troubadour of beer indeed.

Now, were I a beer drinker, this is the point where I'd pick out my favourite brews.  As I'm not, I shall share my favourite beer labels (with some of Adrian's lip-smacking, palate pouting poetry) to give you a flavour and feel of the book.

The Kernel - Export Stout
"This luxurious moonless-night dark beer has an earthy mocha, vanilla-like softness on the nose; meanwhile the palate is touched by rich vanilla-chocolate liqueur and freshly ground coffee notes before an end of palate acidity adds a noble and delicious contrast."

Tiny Rebel - Dirty Stop Out
"The nose is a moody composition of mocha coffee, liquorice and smoke notes. This is a big-flavoured beer, with chocolate and coffee, more liquorice, a hint of cola and a firm bitter backbone, all rattling the palate before a descent to a dry, lightly smoked finish."

Wild Beer Company - Modus Operandi
"The end result is an earthy, chocolaty, funky, herbal, woody, vinous, cheery and balsamic vinegar nose, stunning in its complexity. In the mouth it is a case of chocolate going off the rails, with Brettanomyces in the train's cabin, an earthy sexiness, chocolate, cherry, soft vanilla and the sort of bitter finish that makes you realise why you like beer and want to keep drinking it."

Mikkeller - Monk's Brew (Bourbon Barrel-Aged)
"In the glass it's the colour of dark mahogany with an intricate twirl of aromas on the nose; vanilla, dark fruits, wood, caramel and a vinous hint. On the palate more vanilla adds a soothing note, while raisins and rip plums give a fruity tang as caramel and chocolate bounce sweetness off the palate."

Flying Dog Brewery - Gonzo Imperial Porter
"Expresso-black in the glass with a thick caramel/dirty crocus-yellow head, a riveting beer whose surge of coffee, chocolate, cola, vanilla, liquorice and ripe plum is balanced by a viscous, resiny hoppiness before its appetising bitter finish."

So, take a look, take a lick.  World Bottled Beers by Adrian Tierney-Jones.

And, if you really want to push out the boat, you could double it up with Britain's Beer Revolution (co-authored with another beer legend, Roger Protz) which has just come out.

So, there you have it, Christmas (or birthday or just 'hello weekend') sorted for all the beer lovers in your life.  Don't say I don't ever provide you with useful stuff on this blog.


Want yet more?  Check out his author page on Amazon - here.
Or follow his blog...here.
Or catch him on Twitter...here.

Wine tastings are so last decade...beer's the thing

Adrian’s away again.  Last week it was Zagreb, this week it’s northern Bohemia in the Czech Republic and then straight on to Munich for the Oktoberfest.  I can’t say I begrudge him one little bit – beer festivals aren’t exactly my game. J 

People (well, mainly men; well, okay mainly beer-drinking men) always say he has the best job in the world.  To which he always shakes his head.  ‘They think all I do is stand around boozing,’ he says, with a hangdog expression. And I raise an eyebrow. ‘Or sit around boozing,’ he adds and I nod.  He looks hurt. ‘There’s a lot more to it than that,’ he says with a sigh.  And I say, ‘I know.’ 

And, to be fair, there is.  He prepares for ages before these trips, talking to people, checking out the details of obscure bars and breweries, making contact with even more obscure brewers and publicans, making lists of which particular obscure beers and lagers he needs to taste.  And when I say taste, I mean taste as in the whole swirling it round the glass and sniff sniff sniffing thingy. And yes, the gobbling and swilling round the cheeks malarkey too.  

Because beer, you see (taste, smell, hear) is just as complex as wine.  I’ve never been much of a beer drinker (even when I drank) but I used to quite like the sniffing bit – yes, things like woodsmoke and grapefruit and mango and coffee and …oh you get the drift.  Adrian swears that beer is actually more complex than wine and that there is certainly way more variety.  He’ll even tell you that beer has ‘terroir’ – just as much as any grand cru.

Years back, when he announced that he was going to make a living out of beer, I laughed (and, I hold up my hands and admit, quite freely, that it was not laughing in a jolly way but more in a bitter and twisted way).  ‘Good luck with that,’ I said, mentally figuring I would need to write a couple more books a year to make up the shortfall.  But I was wrong.  Now he writes regularly for the Telegraph and for the Sunday Times travel magazine and for a host of specialist publications around the world.  He's won shedloads of awards for his writing. And he’s written a fair few books too – all in praise of beer and things beery.  So I eat my hat (or rather neck back my pint – or I would if…oh you know what I mean).  The Bonkers House now keeps afloat on...mainly...beer.

Some of you already know this of course.  But what you probably don’t know is that he also does pretty damn good beer tastings and talks.  Honestly, I thought they’d be grim as hell but nope – turns out my husband can actually be damn funny and informative and…erudite.  People love them. They smile. They laugh. They make notes. They sip and slurp and nod at one another. They say he makes them thirsty.  Apparently you can't even get rid of them at the end of the night - they just wanna stay chatting and drinking and wotnot. 

So, I guess what I’m saying is this.  If you or your company or whatever is considering a wine tasting (you know – for one of those corporate thingies, or team building or wotnot) then maybe think again.  Go for beer.  It’s cool.  It's different. It's - er...edgy.  No, really, it's not just louts necking Stella or old guys in tweed caps with whippets nursing warm pints of mild. It's...y'know...rock and roll.  Jesus, even rock stars are doing it... 

Drop him a tweet or check out  his blog.  He’ll happily travel if you meet his expenses – and his fees aren’t aimed at city bankers.  Seriously – give it a whirl.

Great British Pubs

They say you marry your father.  I laughed my head off at that when I met Adrian.  Don’t be daft, I thought, they couldn’t be more different.  I could cite many reasons but the main one?  We barely ever went to a pub. 

My father, on the other hand, lived for the boozer and I sincerely don’t remember the first time I visited one (probably in a pram). He was never happier than sitting in the back bar at the Greyhound, Bella the pathetic dachshund at his feet, with a pint of Youngs in his hand.  His dream was to run a pub, a small rural pub in Kent. It never happened - he died of lung cancer at 52. 

Pubs to me, on another hand (how many have I got?) meant immense tedium, the stale smell of fags and beer, people talking nonsense as they got more drunk.  Pubs meant walking to the other side of the road to avoid being lunged at or thrown up over by blokes staggering out.  Yeah, I went to them as a teenager (didn’t everyone?) but, to be honest, once I’d left home, I didn’t really frequent them that much.  I sort of went straight to clubs, parties and music venues. J

Then the sordid truth came out. Adrian was a beer drinker. And a pub aficionado.  Okay, so aficionado is probably too tame a word.  Let’s just say he has an obsession, akin to a religion, a holy calling.  ‘A good pub is a comfort, a cross-roads of social mobility,’ he says, rhapsodically. ‘Pub. Boozer. Tavern. Local. Rub-a-Dub (whaat?? Does anyone really say that?), Public bar. Village inn. Gin palace. Home from home.’ He fondles the words like poetry.  ‘The pub is where we meet and greet friends, neighbours, strangers (friends in the making) and (on occasion) future lovers.’  Well, we met at a Paul McKenna press show, but hey…

Adrian in his rock star days... 

'A good pub is a comfort,’ he continues, getting into his stride. ‘A crossroads of social mobility, a centre of communications and a place where the reward of a great beer sustains during the long working day.’ Well, not for me but hey, who am I to argue? Plenty of people agree with him.  J

And now, with fellow lush (I mean beer writer) Pete Brown. 

Many years ago, Adrian announced that he wanted to be a beer writer.  He wanted to make a living tasting beer and writing about it. But not just about the beer itself, but about the places which served it.  Serve eh?  See, the pub is a temple and those who drink there are its priests and priestesses, its acolytes, its servants.  I smiled and said, ‘Sure, why not?’  But I didn’t really think he’d do it. I thought it would go the way of writing the great Welsh novel.  Oh so wrong.  He’s now a major expert in the field of beer.  

He’s written a swathe of books on the subject and travels round the world tasting beer. My father would have listened open-mouthed as Adrian gets the gleam of the preacher in his eye. ‘Beer,’ he says, waving a pint glass, sniffing, swirling it round the glass, holding it to the light, taking a small mouthful and swilling it round his mouth, cheeks puckering before, eventually, slowly swallowing. ‘Beer is the currency with which we spend our time in these pubs. John Barleycorn, who must die every harvest before being reborn the following spring – the golden promise of resurrection.’  See, told you it was a religion.

Anyhow. His new book is just out.  Great British Pubs by Adrian Tierney-Jones, published by CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale). 

 Unmissable pubs * Perfect pints * Favourite destinations.

Or, as one wag put it: ‘It’s pub porn, innit?’ He has a point.  Anyone who shares my husband's predilection for pubs will salivate over this book.  Over 200 British pubs, all photographed and plonked into handy 'best of' categories – brewpubs, country pubs, community pubs, family pubs, pub gardens,  seaside pubs, cider pubs, railway pubs, entertainment pubs etc etc.  Jeez, the word ‘pub’ is starting to do strange things to my eyes.   There are features, indices and all sorts.   Yup, pub porn alright.  And, let me just float this idea past you – an ideal Christmas present maybe? 

Woods - look bottom right. :-)

Me? Nah. Though I’ve sort of come round to pubs.  Let’s face it, my life would be tricky if I didn’t. Wherever we go you can bet there will be a pub involved at some point along the way. And I do like some of them, I do.  I’m deeply fond of our locals, Woods and The Bridge Inn – both superb in their own ways.  The Culm Valley Inn in neighbouring Devon is superb for top-notch food (while still remaining a great community local) and The Turf in Exminster keeps it simple but has a rather pleasing insouciance (they shut up shop during the winter to go travelling to warmer climes – oh how sensible).  Kilverts in Hay-on-Wye is one pub I felt totally comfortable in on my own (crazy but it can still be a bit weird as a woman on your own in a pub – in some places it is still very much a man’s domain).  Pen-y-Gwryd in Nant Gwynant in Snowdonia is a climber’s pit-stop in deep Snowdonia, surrounded by mountains, just begging for ghost stories to be told round the fire. 

Buy the book. See if you agree with his choices.  However, if you want to rhapsodize about pubs, or disagree vehemently, or argue the case for your local or favourite holiday find, might I direct you to Adrian’s blog – Maltworms. Do please engage with him in conversation there about your mutual obsession.  He will be delighted. My eyes will glaze over. 

btw, he also conducts tutored tastings and beer talks for corporate dos and other functions.  They’re allegedly great fun and a bit different from the standard wine malarkey.  He can tailor them to your requirements.  So, if you or your company like the sound of it, drop him a line.