Christmas Shopping

Such was one of two aims of today’s expedition; the other was to follow up on the Google of “Home Brewing Supplies”, which produced an outlet in Islington---- The Beer Shop. The 243 bus from the end of our road runs along Old Street, N1, and one steps across the road to Pitfield Street, and no. 14.
Having brewed my own beer for 34 years, I am still puzzled that I can never replicate a British Bitter Ale; is it the hops (likely), the malt (maybe), the method (perhaps), or the water? I caught the Beer Shop Man on a Monday—when he’s closed, but he was packing a special order for an American, and fending off the likes of me, and endless phone callers.
The shop doesn’t just sell ingredients, it is a small brewery too, selling Pitfield Ales, and stout, and supplying 3 or 4 local pubs. I got two books, a hurried discourse on hops, bottles of three Pitfield ales, and directions to, in my words “a CAMRA pub”. (Campaign for Real Ale). Up to the lights, bear left, etc. and after a few directions from a local gent found the Wenlock Arms in Wenlock Road off Wenlock Street, only a whistle from the City Basin on the Regents canal, and about as appealing a street as the lane out the back of your local Chinese.
But this tiny pub, on its blackboard, offers Adnams Bitter, Castle Rock Black Gold Mild 3.5% alc., Pitfeld EKG, Adnams Old Ale 4.1%, Harveys Christmas Ale (8.2%alc!!!), Archers Oatmeal Stout, St Georges Bar Humbug, Crouch Vale Brewers Gold, and Black Country Ale. There are nine beer engines (big white handles to pump the ales up from the cellar: none of your CO2 cylinders here), and at least ten taps for the lesser breeds like Carlsberg, San Miguel, Guinness, etc. And doorstop sandwiches, i.e. bread an inch thick with great hunks of salt beef (corned beef to us) mustard and gherkin; a pint and a sanger £5.30. The little bar was humming with activity at 1 p.m.
I sat at a little table beside a young-looking chap nursing a pint and a newspaper, sipped my pint and quaffed my sandwich, then noticed as he went and got another pint of a very dark ale, like Guinness without the fizz, and I said could I ask what that was, which led to conversation: he is a teacher, but employed at Whitechapel Hospital to teach sick children; all ages from 8 to 18, which he finds a very satisfying challenge. This was his first day of Christmas break, and he was living it up; you don’t go for a pint at lunch from the classroom any more these days. We talked and talked about our respective nations and their systems and their problems and concluded they are both fabulous countries to live in. Immigrants don’t worry him one whit: they all assimilate in the end (the Normans have, after all, and so did the Romans and the Vikings). We agreed that British Bitter is the best beer in the world, I bought him a pint, he bought me a pint and four (4!) pints later we parted, he to Whitechapel, me on foot to Kings Cross Station via Angel Islington and Pentonville Road. This is Monopoly for real!
In 15 mins on the tube I was back in Wood Green High Road, doing my Christmas shopping, for Tomos. A shirt for £18 or a Concise Oxford for £20 and £3 off?; a dictionary lasts longer than a shirt, so Tom can look up the meaning of oast house.
My CAMRA Good Beer Guide 2006, 864 pages, lists the Wenlock; it has been the North London pub of the year 4 times, and the salt beef is famous! Thank heavens for the 243 bus is all I can say.
If your are one quarter keen to try real British Ales, this is the place: take the tube to Old Street station, exit onto City Road (there are many exits), turn right and walk west 300 yds, right into Windsor Terrace which becomes Wenlock Road after you cross Micawber Street, and it’s another 100 yds on your right. And the tube will get you home again.