Nowadays, if you’re armed with the Good Beer Guide and various internet listings, you should have little problem in finding a decent pint of cask beer in virtually all parts of Great Britain. However, it has to be said that I am interested in plenty of things apart from beer, and I also take the view that going in a characterful pub is likely to be a more memorable experience than drinking a nice pint. (Obviously, the two often coincide)
And so, from time to time, you find yourself “off the grid”, maybe looking for lunchtime food in a town where there are no GBG entries, or wanting a bit of variety in the evening in a town where the only entry is Wetherspoon’s. Sometimes you encounter unexpected gems, and I’ve always said that serendipity is one of the best things about pubgoing. But, on the other hand, sometimes you wonder why you bothered. For example, in the past month, I have encountered the following, all in outwardly appealing pubs:
- A pint of a mainstream beer brewed 200 miles away from the pub in question, crystal clear and with a bit of condition, but served around 5°C too warm
- A flat, warm, slightly hazy and just about “on the turn” pint of a well-regarded local micro beer. This was probably returnable, but given that I would never be going back there again I couldn’t be arsed
- A pint of an award-winning family brewer’s beer where a handle glass was placed on the drip tray and the barman simply pulled on the sparkler-free pump to fill it. This in a shabby former GBG-listed pub in a picturesque city-centre location where there were no other customers at 9.30 pm. (Actually, the beer was OK, and much better than the other two)