My Frau and I are planning a trip to London. Despite being in the early stages, I am excited to get across the ocean and explore Old Blighty. I want to march down the steps of St Paul's Cathedral like a Cyberman, discover for myself if there are elephants and lions too in Piccadilly Circus, visit an old church to see if I can find any naughty carvings on the misericords, eat a burger at the last remaining Wimpy Bar, and have a few pints of their flat, warm beer.
But I have been beset by a recurring nightmare. In it, we have found an old pub that has seen countless generations of drinkers. It was even frequented by Geoffrey Chaucer! The ceilings are barely 6 feet high with beautiful wooden everything. You can imagine Hobbits there having a pint after elevenses, relaxing with some pipe weed fit for Tobold Hornblower himself. The landlord is a jolly fellow and everyone is full of good cheer and it shows in their revelry. You know, like the pub scene in The Wicker Man.
My Frau and I approach the bar and ask for a couple pints. Now, this is where it gets scary. The landlord then informs us that all he has on tap are American style IPAs. I am floored. "No Samuel Smith's?" I ask. The jolly music and merriment come to a screeching halt as everyone in the tavern gives us side-eye.
"Never heard of it," the landlord grumpily replies.
We are promptly escorted outside to the village green where we're greeted by townsfolk dressed as tropical fruits - mango, guava, pineapple, and such like. They are singing a terrifying parody of "Sumer Is Icumen In" that goes:
Summer IPA has arrived,
Proudly drink hazy brew!
The Simcoe is growing
And the bines are blooming,
And the Chinook is coming into leaf now,
Drink hazy brew!
They sing this as we are lead up a hill where a giant wooden effigy of Martyn Cornell stands at the top. My Frau and I are locked firmly inside this wicker beer educator and it is set afire. Our panicked screams are all for naught as the coconuts and papayas just sing away, completely indifferent to our plight. In a last ditch attempt, we beg for mercy, promising to drink all the hazy IPA that could possibly fit inside of our bellies but our harried pleas are roundly ignored.
The flames draw nearer until they lick our heels as well as our New Glarus Uff Da Bock t-shirts. Soon they are upon us, ready to render our flesh into ash and...I wake up in a cold sweat, panting.
I think we stand a good chance of not suffering the same fate as Police Sergeant Howie. I also feel that we will enjoy flat, room temp beers while over there. You know, something CAMRA-approved. This will be really neat as English beers are not exactly lining store shelves here and, from my experience, they are rarely found on tap.
I do want to note that, back in November, a firkin of dry-hopped "English pub-style ale" from Sun Prairie's Full Mile Beer Company was put on tap on the beer engine at The Malt House here in Madison and it was delicious. Even a friend who spent some time in London where he acquired a taste for English beer and laments the inability of American brewers to do English styles well found this to be a toothsome ale.
To my mind, Fuller's London Pride is an iconic English brew but I had seen neither hide nor hair of it in ages until last fall when bottles of it appeared in the singles cooler at my local Tesco, er, Woodman's supermarket. I thought that I'd read somewhere that it was an English bitter in the days of yore but had recently been re-styled as an amber ale. Perhaps its reappearance is due to the brewer and distributor making a new push for the beer now that it's a more recognizable style for Americans.
I assume that it went away because most drinkers just weren't interested in a bitter when they can have American IPA. But I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that there is - Paul Harvey voice - more to the story.
English beer styles are not my forte but they are Martyn Cornell's. Seek out his sagacious writings on the subject (and Ron Pattinson's too) if you are keen on discerning the difference between a bitter and an amber ale. It sounds like dark bitters are being called amber ales these days. Thank you the marketing division of...
I think I've had London Pride before but I am unsure. If I have, then it was long ago, back in the 20th century, I'm sure. So this tasting felt like the very first time.
My pour produced a small, dull white head that, like Liz Truss, went away quickly. The liquid was light amber in color, clear as day, and full of bubbles going up, up, up. (Look at me! I'm an amber! Shadoobie, amber)Even if this beer tasted like shite, it would get high marks for appearance as it looked absolutely enticing. My nose caught caramel, a light herbal hoppiness, a floral something, and a spiciness that reminded me of Grains of Paradise with a citrus-black pepper mix. Ooh la la!
As expected, the carbonation was mild and my tongue was bathed in malty tones of leather joined by a bit of caramel. The ale's medium-light body also held a faint stone fruit taste along with some grassy hops. On the finish, those malty flavors faded leaving a rather prominent herbal hoppiness which bestowed a firm bitterness and dryness.
Brilliant! London Pride has a wonderfully rich flavor for such a light body (4.7% A.B.V.). I loved the leathery taste here, something American brewers tend to eschew, and how it was perfectly balanced by the hops, whose herbal flavors are also rare in these parts. This self-professed "Oustanding Amber Ale" is indeed that.
Junk food pairing: Pair your London Pride with a packet of Lay's Kobe Beef Flavor crisps.
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