Shed Brewers Festival and attempted sensibility.

At the beginning of last month I attended the fourth annual shed brewers beer festival. For those curious, the shed brewers are part of the Anglian Craft Brewers and to quote them:

‘The term "Shed Beer" was coined after a blind tasting session to choose between commercial beer and our own brew. Rather than call it homebrew which seemed to imply beer made from kits, "Shed Beer" was used to indicate micro brewing, probably made in a garage, outbuilding or a shed.’

Having worked or attended every previous incarnation, I had a fairly optimistic view on the way the day would go - most likely the appreciation of good beer, further exclamation that the brewers should make beer on a commercial level, and then the inevitable decline into alcohol fueled blather on hop varieties to people too polite to remind me they don’t wish to discuss if they prefer Pacific Jade or Pacific Gem.  

As seems to chase me whenever I am looking forward to something involving being outside my house, an onslaught of rain transformed my walk into a run to the venue. Once inside I realised I had forgotten to tell the event organisers that, due to my inability to hold onto anything for an extended time without losing it, I had left my ticket behind the bar in a box, which had now been moved. It was in that moment of staring longingly at a staircase that led to the festival, physically anxious that I could not enter straight away, that it occurred to me perhaps there are times where I like beer a bit too much. 

Luckily fortune favours the beer nerd, for as I cut a forlorn figure standing at the bar with empty eyes of what-could-be one of the brewers noticed me and came up with a ground breaking ticket replacement until mine was found. 

The cunning ruse

 With access granted I edged my way through a thick crowd towards the beer. It was still fairly early but it was already very busy. The people were many and the group noise of numerous conversations was only punctuated by repeated words, usually beer related, and thankfully from what I heard all positive. 

The shed brewers themselves were either serving or mingling with the customers.  It was great to be able to chat to them about their different beers and where they got their inspiration from whilst drinking the product itself. It also lay stage for what I can assume is one of the most important things when it comes to homebrewing – feedback on a wider scale.  

Over the next few hours I tried all but two of the beers on offer and was again very impressed with what I drank. Throughout the day tasting sessions occurred on different styles and it was great to see people getting involved, noses in glasses, talking about what they were getting from the beer and why. I am a sucker for anything that educates and informs people about beer!   

The actual ticket

 The quality of beer on offer was even better than last year with a nice range  covering light to dark as well as some good specialties (the smoked porter and the braggot were two personal favourites of the day). There was not a single beer I tried that I wouldn’t have been happy to have paid for over the bar at a pub. This is testament to the skill, passion and devotion of those who worked so hard to craft the beer I was enjoying.

I feel passion is an apt summary of the whole event. This was a day made for the desire of good beer, whether that be consuming or producing. It breathed a brilliantly unique atmosphere, more intimate and hands on than that of your classic beer festival and one I hope continues for years to come. 

Who knows, maybe by that time some of the brewers today will have their own commercial ventures.

I can only hope so.

If your are interested in homebrewing and would like to know more about the Anglian Craft Brewers, you can join their facebook group here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/craftshedbrewers/

Considering the 'character' of a pub - The Odd One Out, Colchester.

Character can take years to create but only weeks to destroy. 

Sadly I have seen this happen to many pubs over the years. Perhaps one of the few negative results of a prosperous and ever improving beer scene is that, often, a pub will only get one chance to prove itself to a curious customer. All it takes is one below average pint and they may be gone, never to be seen again. Luckily, many people (I would hope) will give a venue a few tries before reaching a firm conclusion, and by that time the ‘character’ of a place may be cemented within their minds, for better or worse.

Below is a semi stream-of-conscious piece with only minor edits on what the character of one particular pub means to me. Visit made last week.

I am on Mersea Road. It is downcast with the sort of murky rumblings that make the premise of a pint lurch from one of enjoyment to an almost necessity. From the outside, to those unaware of what lies within, it could be seen as an imposing building of blank brick and curtained windows. The first thing to brush these doubts aside with an almost nonchalant flick of the wrist is in the pub sign itself. A character from Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter, is reaching over a bar as if in the middle of a compelling debate or the climax of an anecdote. Clutching a tankard no doubt containing ale of most alluring content, his large hat and gesticulating expression is an apt summary of the pleasing, yet potentially perplexing moments you may find within.

I go tumbling down the rabbit hole.  

Only one step in and it hits me; a tranquil nod of immediate warmth, both from the open fire opposite and the pockets of conversation from the people within. All the tables in the first part of the pub are wooden and well worn. The chairs are those you only ever seem to find in old style pubs. They are all green or red and are made from a material I cannot quiet work out with wooden backs and, in some cases, simple arm rests run smooth I like to imagine from years of being rested on. These are the sort of chairs you find yourself slowly sinking into as the pints and conversation flow freely without awkwardness.

Before you even reach the bar you cannot help but absorb the history of the pub. Above the fire on a small mantelpiece are numerous awards from CAMRA, some many years apart. The walls are a faded patterned wallpaper of yellow and are covered with beer mirrors, beer advertisements as well as a glass cabinet of spirits for off-sale. I have never seen it used personally.

 I see and consider this all in mere seconds. It is an instant feeling of contentment, of an inherent character that so many pubs strive for but never achieve. I felt it the first time I stepped within the pub walls around eight years ago and still feel now. The sense of history of just how much this pub must have heard and absorbed over the years is almost staggering.

Moving from carpet to bare wooden boards of the narrow but central area are six cask hand pulls resting within the middle of the wooden bar. Next to them are small barrel of still cider.  I may love my huge hop bombs or enormous imperial stouts, but in a place like the Odd One Out (affectionately known as the Oddie by the locals) my mind is on one thing – the simple but very satisfying mild. I am not disappointed as I find Gannet Mild on tap. The price is £2.98. Pricing to the penny is another one of those quirks of the Oddie. 

The pint pours deep ruby with a nice half finger of white head made of small bubbles. I sit down by the fire and consider it. The smell is of earthy hops. The flavour reminds me of dark fruits with a lovely malt backbone. It is an easy and enjoyable beer with a solid body that goes against the possible expectation from a beer that is only 3.3%. It transports me mentally to an almost serene sense of satisfaction, the type of moment where everything else just melts away to leave the simple pleasure of enjoying a good pint in good surroundings without a care or worry in the world. A particularly eager and infectious laugh cuts through this daydream and I cannot help but smile even though I have no idea what was said.

The pint is gone before long and I buy another. Sadly this is only a short stop so I avoid engaging in conversation with the friendly and often gregarious customers of the pub, for to do so would be to seal my fate that night – only emerging when time is called and the head is swimming in both merriment of beer and chatter. Instead I choose to sit and be content, soaking up the atmosphere in almost parasitic fashion.

I could ramble on more and describe the rest of the pub, of John the owner, or the numerous antics and stories I have enjoyed and delighted in retelling, but this piece was to describe the character you feel on a visit and so I will bring this to an end.

I finish my pint and I leave, a quick nod of thanks to the barman and out I go, already wishing I was still inside and feeling guilty I do not make it there enough anymore  Perhaps one day I won’t get the chance if current trends of pubs continue.

That is what the Odd One Out means to me, and what I think of when people mention ‘character’ in regards of pubs.