The Darkness

Autumn. Season of clichés and mellow fruitfulness. We've got a handsome cherry tree outside our house, which at this time of year sneezes about a ton of leaves into the front yard every couple of days. On saturday, sweeping that lot up put me in the mood for a dark beer, and it doesn't get much darker than Harveys Imperial Extra Stout. It's the Aleister Crowley of ales.

Why is it so hard to find a shop with a good selection of interesting beers in London? I can only think of two specialists now that the Beer Shop in Shoreditch has turned up its toes. Utobeer at Borough Market is a five-minute Boriscycle from my desk, though the fact that they hardly ever put a price label on their bottles puts me off. Well, that and their prices. Did I really see them selling Duvel at four quid a go? The other place is Nelson wines, way down yonder in South Wimbledon, a place that claims to be in zone three but feels like you've gone far enough to drop off the edge of the south coast. Nelson's is much cheaper than Utobeer and arguably has a bigger selection - there are bottles from floor to almost the ceiling, and stuck in every nook and corner. It's well worth the trip, even if the shop itself looks like it sells dirty magazines rather than dusty bottles.

Nelson's is where I picked up this Imperial Extra. It comes in a nice cork-stopped bottle and pours a viscous and total black, like the sump oil of a 1985 Lada Niva. Very thin espresso-coloured head and very little carbonation. Get your nose in the glass and there's spice, almost curry, coming up. First swig is a big treacly mouthful. It tastes a lot like what we in Yorkshire call 'Spanish' and everyone else calls liquorice, with distinct hints of port, and that 9% certainly makes its presence felt pretty quickly. All this ends with a bittersweet, tickly finish that goes on and on and on. I've never drunk anything quite like it - in fact, to me it had more in common with a digestive liqueur like Unicum than beer. That or something dug up on Time Team. Can't imagine having this more than once or twice a year - but it'd do very nicely for hallowe'en. Cackle.

40 Beers, Part Nine

Almost there.

28) Orkney Red MacGregor (cask): A real tangy mouthful, lots of bitterness and zip. The colour of black tea that's been stewing for a couple of hours. Darkly fruity nose.

29) White Horse Village Idiot (cask): Colour of light straw with a tight creamy head and a frothy crown. Summery citrus nose with light hops and a gentle bitter finish.

30) Titanic - Another Pint In The Wall: (cask). Faint but not unpleasant metallic smell. Tangy with a long bitter finish.

31) Asda Own Brand (Shepherd Neame, apparently) Gentleman Jack (bottle): Polished bronze body, sustained head, fruit 'n' nut. Very decent for a quid.

32) Asda Own Brand (Shepherd Neame, apparently) Whitechapel Porter (bottle): Opaque, almost black body with a big beige head. Intense coffee fragrance. First swig gives a huge coffee hit with a lasting, very bitter espresso finish. Good stuff, and a real bargain. Why has it got a hotel commissionaire on the label?

Next!

(the picture- a Dark Star Hophead, enjoyed at The Harp on saturday - explains why my old flatmate in Munich felt the need to ask me; "Vy are you Briddish haffing pipes all offer your valls?" )

Forty Years On

Later this year, I turn 40. Most of my mates reached this alarming milestone in the past few months. We're each strapping on our ale beards to try 40 beers that are new to us over the 365 days from our birthdays. It's not much of a challenge is it? just over three-quarters of a pint per week, if you do spread it over a year. You could conceivably blow your beer beans at a decent-sized festival, or a weekend in Belgium or Germany.  Of course, the new beers are to be enjoyed alongside what you'd normally sup. Any beer counts - even the trampagne from the local Londis. it's just got to be new to the participant. Being the group's tame designer I've knocked up a booklet (cover left) that we can carry with us to record what we drink and what it tastes like. I need the discipline. I've indulged in some shameless tickery before, but I usually scribble what I've had on the back of a damp beermat that ends up going through the washing machine. I've had my share of different ales, but with today's kaleidescopic choice of global micro and macro brews, finding 40 new beers should be an easy and enjoyable experience. Yes, I do realise how chin-strokingly nerdy this all sounds. What can I say? I'm a chin-stroking nerd.