You can see what they’ve got on the bar at @OldFountainAles

You can see the shape up there and it almost completely mirrors the movements of the FTSE share index this year.

So the City Road FTSE Index 2011 it is.

START
3pm: The Old Red Lion
4pm: The Island Queen
4.45pm The Narrowboat
5.30pm The Wenlock Arms
6.20pm In and Out of the Eagle
6.30pm Bavarian Beerhouse
7.30pm The Prince Arthur
8.15pm The Reliance
9pm Mason & Taylor

Its physically the longest ever (near two miles!!!) and has the most pubs – though in and out of the Eagle is just that. Its also likely that a few may be shut.

A nice bit of variety too from German reliability to flaky pub falling down nonsense. As ever I shall be your host, demanding a salt beef sammich.

So come join us, on this architectural adventure, you don’t have to drink, you don’t have to do every pub. You do have to have fun! See you there. Or follow it on twitter on #FTcrawl2011

We have been here, or hereabouts before. Weaker beer for Corporate Social Responsibility purposes. The third pint glass was supposed to appeal to women who find the word third so much more attractive than half or pint. And let us not forget the goddess of beer Ninkasi, or indeed our old favourite the lady with a pint forehead. Yes brewers there are lots of people who don’t drink beer. Some of them don’t like it, some of them actively prefer the other drinks on offer. Attempting to make a lager with an even less bitter aftertaste starts taking us down to surely the ultimate solution, alcoholic sparkling water. But I for one welcome the patronising invention of Eve, Carlsberg Copenhagen, and Animee (I don’t even know how to pronounce that last one). I am intrigued by Animee being released in standard, rose and citrus flavours. For I adore a big budget marketing exercise gone wrong, and the idea that innovation and branding can make people drink things they are never going to drink is the epitome of that. When are KP going to release the peanuts that they have designed especially for people allergic to peanuts? Made in a factory which handles peanut products.

I recognise that beer is seen traditionally as a male drink, even if it was invented and generally brewed by women from its invention. But the pub and boozy culture did have a male stink about it that no subtle rebranding or All Bar One makeover is going to change overnight. There doesn’t seem to be a similar concern from the wine producers though than men are not drinking as much – say – Rose Wine as they should be. Well, Hardy’s Stamp Zinfandel, you may not have thought of it, but here on Freakytrigger we are offering you the marketing half of this problem. You may still need to tweak the wine to the particular tastes of men, bitter aftertaste, a slightly aggressive tang. But the concept is simple. Pink Wine for MEN. A million pound ad campaign fronted by the manliest men that money can buy. Picture this, a boxing club, somewhere seedy but full of men. Ray Winstone struggling to uncork a competitor brand’s bottle of rose due to the complexity of corks, then glaring at the camera saying ‘screw you’ – cut to Jason Statham easily headbutting off the screwcap on ROZE. ROZE – THE WINE FOR MEN.

Note the stylish and now use of the Z, as in Coke Zero: men know they are being marketed to when a Z comes into play. It also means that if we are targeting a low calorie version at the Men’s Health market we can call that ROZERO.

The billboard campaign is simplicity itself.

After the success of last year’s Imperial Stout Orgabooze, we thought that this year we’d try out a different style of beer. India Pale Ale (ha! And you thought we were talking about the International Phonetic Alphabet) traditionally had a bunch of hops shoved in it to help it survive the voyage to India in the 19th century. For the purposes of this tasting a beer counts as an IPA if:

1) It says ‘IPA’ or ‘India Pale Ale’ on the bottle

AND/OR

2) It’s a pale ale with a name that has something to do with India, e.g. Proper Job, which apparently is named after the ‘proper job’ a Cornish regiment did in putting down the Indian Mutiny (despite the the queasiness that such associations may induce).

15.30pm Intrepid tasters arrive. We count around 40 different beers available for our delectation, from a global-trotting three (3) countries. There is some apprehension regarding the Sierra Nevada Hoptimum (which claims to contain an entire hop plant) and the Mikkeller IPA which has an ‘IBU’ (International Bitterness Units) rating of 1000 (the next nearest beer is estimated to be around 100 IBU). As per last year, wall charts are available for tasters to scribble down their thoughts in case your correspondent fails to type everything down. This year’s hashtag is the functional but less-than-creative #IPAtasting.

15.50pm IT BEGINS. We start with ‘a gateway beer’, one that started many of us on our real ale lovin’ journey:

Caledonian Deuchars IPA (4.4%)
Pete says this is “traditional and solid, nothing wrong with it but nothing exciting either.” He gives it 5/10. Sarah has no complaints and goes higher with a 7, as does Kat, who has a fond Proustian recollection of drinking this in the Lord John Russell.

Other comments: “WET.” “Tastes like beer.” “Fizzy.” “Pissy in a good way.” “Solid, good breakfast beer.” “Yes!” “If this was on in a pub on a hot day at lunchtime I would be happy with my purchase.” Overall Score: [6.5/10]

The non-beer drinkers present fail to agree that this is a gateway beer and get some wine out of the fridge. Next up it’s a local favourite and relative newcomer:

Thornbridge Jaipur (5.9%)
Ciori, one of the more adventurous non-beer drinkers, says it’s lovely and gives it 9/10. “I can imagine this with Indian food”. Graham says there’s a “somewhat spicy tang to it” (7/10), Rob says “om nom nom” for 8/10. “Hoppy but smooth, it tastes as strong as it is – this is a good thing”, says Pete (8/10).

Carsmile, who has been known to drink several pints of this down the Jolly Butchers and get quite sozzled, agrees. “It remains the king of beers.” Others get a whiff of the Emperor’s new beer, and think that it’s ‘over-rated’, and ‘a bit Stoke Newington’ (the latter is definitely a fair comment). Sarah announces that Jaipur is the “Tumblr of all the beers”. Rick lives in Stoke Newington but doesn’t have a Tumblr. He thinks it’s fizzier in bottles than from keg but that’s fine: “It’s more straightforwardly bitter and sharp.” Jo is an enthusiastic beer novice – she’s carefully jotting down her thoughts in a notebook: “It’s nice.” Overall Score: [8.5/10]

16.11pm. Some chat about the royal wedding, despite best efforts of all. Kerry and Ciori join forces against wedding h8tas.

16.15pm. Dani arrives! She announces her dislike for Jaipur to much furore. All begin sampling the cheese, which has been recommended by the dude at Neal’s Yard Dairy to go well with IPA.

16.20pm. First belch of the day from Kat! Juliet arrives, just in time for:

Greene King IPA (can) (3.6%)
Pete says it is “Tongue-shrivellingly poor”; SteveM agrees giving it 0/10. “Honey flavours, metallic on the nose” says Ewan in a vain attempt to be poncey about the beer. He then claims he doesn’t like honey flavours and gives it 4/10. “It’s like someone ate a lot of asparagus and pissed in a can,” says Graham. He does however try to find a silver lining: “good colour though!” Sarah gets licorice notes – she hates licorice (4/10). Kat thinks it tastes like apple juice, Juliet agrees. Jo rates it in her notebook as ‘alright’, rather than nice. Ewan says the cheese overwhelms the beer (which is a good thing), and downgrades his mark to a 3.

Other comments: “Stale tires”, “just crap bitter”, “pernicious”, “flat and dull”, “not nice… not even close”, “w/ev”, “the David Cameron of the Group”. Overall Score: [2/10]

16.30pm. Time for the first of our beers obtained from the friendly “Druid of Druid St”, Evin O’Riordain. It looks like a porter but tastes like an IPA! It must be:

Kernel IPA Black (6.8%)
Kat tried this a few months ago and was extremely pleased with it. Today it’s still good but tastes different than before – more grapefruity. This is possibly because of having some Greene King IPA beforehand. Juliet thinks ‘citrus’, Jo says ‘pineapple’.

Kerry thinks it is delicious, and wishes she could drink it every morning when she wakes up. “It’s like going camping with my family – in a good way!” However she doesn’t think it’s as good as Jaipur so it only gets a 9.5. Pete thinks it’s oddly fatty, very tasty, but not quite as good as Jaipur. It has a whiff of stuntyness about it. For a black IPA? Surely not! Sarah isn’t sure about this one, but after a while she declares that it goes better with the Lincolnshire Poacher than she initially thought.

“It looks like mud pond water, very sedimenty”, “Marshmallows roasted in hops”, “smooth but oddly fatty, nice”, “this smells like pineapple”, “don’t drink the sediment – you’ll not be able to taste anything else of ages. Otherwise nice.” Overall Score: [7.5/10]

16.42 Kat, Sarah and Juliet are looking at pictures of dogs on the internet.

Fullers Bengal Lancer (5.3%)
Kat is enlightened about her ignorance regarding this beer, which is not in fact named after some sort of military dog used by the Gurkhas. Oh dear. Ewan loses 10 points by uttering the dread word M**THF**L.

“Dry but with a honey front-loading-ness,” says Rob. Jo finds it a bit boring. Kat has another Proustian smell-mory of the church hall where her playgroup was held. Sarah is not a fan of this: “BLEURGH TOO BITTER – The Twitter of all beers.” Dani likes it though – she thinks it’s a nice contrast to the Kernel Black. Passion pops? “There’s no back to it,” says Rick. Carsmile finds the Lancer has a champagney fizz, Juliet thinks it’s “bouncy”.

Other comments from the wall chart: “BUCKFAST, though too fizzy?”, “Tonic wine – herbal”, “very sweet to start with but it goes away”, “tastes like it could be session but isn’t”, “Bucky start/dry bitter finish” “sweet honeyed nose [someone has written 'haha' under this], light with medium finish” “Sarah hates this beer.” Overall Score: [6/10]

Next up, we head to Suffolk:

Adnams American Style IPA (6.8%)
We have three bottles of this, and it turns out there’s quite a variation in taste between them. This is possibly because they have been hanging around Stoke Newington for nearly a year before being opened.

“Fizzy,” surmises Jo. “That’s all I have to say about it.” She’s not wrong though – others comment “this is fizzy and nothing else”, “Bizzy with the fizzy – otherwise dull”, “overwhelmingly fizzy”. Non-fizz related comments include “nice at a BBQ, damning with faint praise?” and “deceptive, sly”. Kat likes it, as does Dani – in fact she likes it a lot and doesn’t always like Adnams stuff. Carsmile isn’t sure how ‘American’ it is, but Pete says he has drunk stuff like it in America. He also says it looks like lucozade. [No marks out of 10 given]

17.17pm It’s time for an American IPA, rather than just an American-style IPA. But which one? Debate ensues as to what the hell 1000 IBU could possibly entail for our taste buds, and we decide to leave the Mikkeller until later. In any case, it’s Danish.

17.20pm IMPROMPTU PIE DEBATE: cold fingers are deemed better for pastry. Steve has cold fingers. Rob has hot fingers. Rob keeps a bowl of ice water handy when he makes pie crust. Kat has clammy hands and avoids making pastry at all if she can possibly help it. Pete says something incomprehensible about physiology.

17.21pm Ewan has confessed to possessing a TICKER APP. It is warning him about drinking too much.

17.23pm Kris Wines is toasted metaphorically, viz Rick waxing about his (Kris’) sideboards. We crack open one of the purchases from said shop, viz:

Stone Cali-Belgique (6.9%)
“It’s sweet except… it’s not,” says Juliet. Sarah thinks it’s better in the nose than the Bengal Lancer. “Welcome back Sonatogen Tonic Wine, my friend!” However the taste is all carbonated. This leads to Sarah’s first burp of the day. “The back end is worse than the front end.” Carsmile is worried that his ‘mouth has gone strange’. He’s not particularly sure he likes it. Rick is confused: “I thought I knew exactly what it would taste like when smelling it, but it doesn’t taste like that at all’. He gives it 5. Dani threatens to give Rick more and he runs away into the kitchen. Dani doesn’t like it – she makes a URGGGH face to show its sourness (2/10). Graham says it is “a 6 series BMW” and gives it 4/10.

Jo mentions that it smells of swimming pools, and Kat immediately starts paying attention and becomes very enthusiastic, then has some of the beer and makes a face like Dani did mere seconds earlier.

Other comments: “Leffe-like”, “toilet cleaner”, “unexpected nose”, “Leffe & Slimline Tonic” “Juniper taste, a bit thin and lacking depth” “Yuck [underlined twice]” “Ewan thinks this is defensible”, “belgian, v citrusy”, “Please don’t make me drink this again. Hate u Belgians” Overall Score: [4/10]

Straight onto another US beer:

Ballast Point Big Eye IPA (7.0%)
Sarah thinks all the beers are starting to smell nasty. She decides to rinse her glass and see if this helps. It does! “This is delicious amber nectar compared to last beer, and it goes well with a chocolate jammy dodger.” It’s got a nice ‘taste’, more like an IPA. She ranks this the same as Deuchars (7). SteveM says this is ‘paint-y’. Watercolours or pastels? We will never know. Pete is very insistent that the following comment be recorded: “the relationship that this beer has to a British IPA is the relationship between Donald Duck and Duck Tales.” Ciori would drink this if it were in Leffe bottles. Jo says it’s not bland enough for her.

From the wall chart: “Citrussy with a hint of paint stripper”, “caramel, burnt banana”, “Super fruity!” “I has a flavour”, “really bitter after a caramel nose”, “puts the big eye in IPA”. Overall Score: [6.5/10]

17.45pm SteveM suggests Real Ale Jukebox akin to The Singles Jukebox, with scores out of ten, random Americans etc.

Carsmile predicts the following beer will be shite:

Wadworth Henry’s Original IPA (3.6%)
Could this be the session IPA? It has a similar taste and colour to Greene King, but nicer (obviously). “It’s that Candied Nose,” says Carsmile repeatedly. Others say “MEH!” “Most meh of the tasting.” “Would work really well as a shandy and there’s a moment for that.” No-one is convinced of the ‘originality’ of this Original IPA. Everyone is shouting ’3.6′ like it means something. “3.6 out of 10 more like,” says SteveM. “It’s like drinking some water after something heavier.” Pete says it’s a watered down version of Bengal lancer. Rick says it’s greasy, Kat thinks it’s swiggable but not very interesting. “It would be good for 2am at a party when you’ve already had 3 random bottles of beer – no surprises and perfectly serviceable as a thirst quencher.”

Magnus says “OK, fine, works”, which is impressive as he hasn’t arrived yet. All marvel at his time-travelling abilities. “Only a bit more honest than GK IPA,” says Pete. No-one knows what the hell he’s going on about. “It’s the Red Stripe of all the IPAs,” says someone. “It’s a bit best-y for an IPA.” SteveM says it is the ‘Carling of IPA’ which everyone goes ‘oooo’ at. SteveM clearly has beef with this beer. Overall Score: [3/10]

17.50pm Kerry, Ciori and Meg have gone outside to do something mysterious involving BRAS. Pete says ‘titknack’ for no good reason. Everyone choruses ‘fucking hell it’s Fred Titknack’, with the correct placement of BRACKETS. Sarah asks if she can borrow the laptop to buy HMHB tickets.

17.55pm Knock knock jokes commence. Sea Weeed, Knock Knock Who’s There? Ans: Pants. (pants pants pants). “Drawers! Justin Bebo belly-bum-drawers.” Moving swiftly on, it’s a Scottish beer that is probably too clever for its own good:

Brewdog Punk IPA (330ml can) (5.6%)
Most of us have had this in bottle form before, but never in a can. Dani promptly decides “it tastes better in a bottle”. “It smells funny,” says Jo. She gives it a 6. Rick thinks it’s a bit objectionable (4/10). It reminds Sarah of one of those lemon things you put in your fridge to stop it smelling. “There’s a definite soapy backwash.” It’s ‘too lemony’ for Juliet; Carsmile agrees: “lemon washing up liquid”.

The wall chart says: “Our new canned overlord”, “Germ free adolescents [anarchy symbol]“, “Maybe better than Henry’s :O”, “smells like hayfever”, “with another 10% of lemonade it would be a shandy”. Overall Score: [6/10]

17.59pm SteveM hasn’t had any hayfever this year, because he hasn’t been outside for a long time.

Great Divide Hercules Double IPA (9.1%)
This is a toasted, sweet beer that’s “easy to drink, therefore dangerous”. Ewan thinks it’s comparatively subtle, and that it would go well with cheese if he could be bothered to get up and have some (9/10). Kat thinks it smells like sweet and sour sauce (but tastes like malted milk biscuits). Dani thinks it’s too strong, Rick says it’s more of a barley wine (or “barley whine” as someone has written on the wall chart*), whereas SteveM thinks it’s “getting a bit syrupy”. Graham thinks the beer has a good balance of flavour and masks its strength dangerously for 9.1%. “You can’t drink this quickly,” says Pete. “Well, you can, but you shouldn’t.”

At first Sarah can’t taste any difference between this and the previous beer, then realises she is in fact still drinking the previous beer. Once this is rectified, she says the Hercules Double smells like a friendly festival – not Latitude or Glade, but “a nice day at Glastonbury”. All agree that it tastes of Strawberry Crusha, though ‘this might be pissedness talking’. Overall Score: [8/10]

18.13pm Pete declares that “Teresa May has wooden teeth – Ms Dynamite told me so”. Sarah says that apparently Melvyn Hayes once got stuck in a ticket barrier at Euston station.

18.19pm Rick is talking some sort of beery bollocks. This must mean it is time for some Royal Wedding beery bollocks! Dedicated republican Juliet leaps up from her seat for some of this:

Ascot Royal IPA (4.6%)
“It’s quite nice actually!” says Juliet in surprise. Others are less keen: “not terribly exciting”, “Boring & forgettable – like Katie Middleton”, “Boring & forgettable – like Prince William”. Carsmile says it’s nothing like the cask version, and Pete says it’s not really an IPA at all. Someone says it smells like plants, “but not herbal and tonic-y”. Dani lets out a marvellous burp. [No scores out of ten are given, possibly because Kat is too busy drinking the rest of the Hercules Double to ask people for them.]

(approx) 18.30pm Moggy and Magnus arrive. Proceedings become a little more ‘free-form’ at this point, with several beers being opened at once (as there isn’t always enough of each one to go round).

White Shield IPA (5.6%)
SteveM finds its blandness strangely appealing, while Kat agrees it’s not very interesting, she finds it quite comforting. Graham doesn’t look too impressed, and Ewan gets a nasty aftertaste. Pete is getting an acetone-y degree of nail varnish remover. Ciori thinks that everyone is too drunk to appreciate this one properly. Carsmile appears to be drinking a completely different beer from everyone else. He says it’s completely different from the cask version (which had a lambic edge) but “this is lovely – prickly, spicy and fun.” He gives it 10/10, possibly in jest. “Zingy, pingy and full of ketone life.”

A rather curious comment on the wall chart says: “Jiggly Jiggly Puff (= properstuff A+ 8/10)”. Overall Score: [7/10]

18.51pm Samosas and bhagees have been brought out at some point, to fit with the Indian theme,;also coronation chicken sandwiches (with mango chutney). The food vanishes almost instantly. We move on to a beer from Greenwich that seems to be everywhere these days:

Meantime IPA (7.5%)
“This is, indeed, a beer,” writes a sharp observer. Pete thinks it’s “interesting but has no proper character”. It’s not demanding that he attends to it, given its strength. Rick finds it “astringent, but otherwise nothing there”. Ewan is similarly underwhelmed: “Perhaps following the others hasn’t helped it?” It does however improve after eating spicy food – it takes the top edge off. Other comments: “Smoked cheese”, “A conventional summer companion.” [No marks out of 10 given]

18.54pm Magnus proposes the theory that we are all inside Kate Middleton’s dream in 2003, watching Wills play hockey. It’s all gone a bit St Elsewhere. Rick makes a dreadful noise when trying to get up off a chair. Time to crack open a huge imposing bottle:

Moor’s JJJ IPA (9.5%)
This is the strongest beer we’ve had so far. Pete makes laboured joke about an Australian radio station that no-one gets. “The initial taste is very strong, but then it goes,” says Ewan. “It’s insane, but a good insane – I can’t drink too much of it.” Kerry really likes it: “Recursive beer! It tastes like other beer only more so – beer squared.” What sort of beer? “Beer! It tastes like American beer, only more so. I could happily drink this all night then fall asleep 45 mins later.”

Pete gets a hint of gueuze. “This doesnt help with spicy food at all, but it’s lovely, really nice. Very different to the double IPA – smoother and strong.” He gives it 9/10. SteveM likes it too. “It’s better than the other strong one – crisper.” Juliet thinks it has a good front taste, but the aftertaste gets bitterer and bitterer. She would like it if she didn’t have to swallow it (hur hur hur). Kat doesn’t like it at all – it makes her mouth go HYLUP. “Behold the firestorm,” says Magnus cryptically. Carsmile is impressed that it is 9.5% without being too barley-y. “It’s hoppy without being stupid, and quite licorice-y at the end.”

Other comments: “Peachy!” “A wonder – strong but Pazow!” “Bit too much really innit – needs sipping like whiskey.” “Yes, it’s, mmm, yes. Yes. Strong.” [No marks out of 10 given]

Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA (7.2%)
“Oh, it’s only 7.2!” cries Magnus. “An awesome session waiting to happen.” Kerry starts cradling the glass like it was her firstborn. “It’s like the platonic ideal of what an IPA should be.” Kerry is very insistent that the following be recorded: “It’s very difficult to find an IPA that isn’t top heavy or bottom heavy but MEDIUM heavy, which is what an IPA should be. The earlier ones were all ‘top of the palate’.”

Kat likes it, but it is making her tongue cramp up. Pete lowers the tone as usual: “there’s no p43do like a Torpedo.” Other comments: “Delicious! The bottles are not large enough – full and deep taste that inspires IMMENSE THIRST. Would get hammered on this.” “Every IPA should aspire to this.” “All beers are like this but less so.” [The only recorded score out of 10 is an 11 from Kerry, but everyone seems positive about it]

Next, we try an American beer with a cartoon monkey on the label:

Left Hand 400 Pound Monkey (7%)
Much mockery occurs due to this beer’s claims to be an ‘English style 7% ale’. It does not taste like any English IPA we can think of. Moggy has just had some jalapeno crisps though, so she cannot confirm this. She does however say: “this is something I buy in a cornershop because I am already pissed and it has monkey in the name, to utter ruin.” Despite being a ‘big fat lie of a beer’, Pete likes it. Ewan agrees that the grapefruit bitterness is definitely American, however “it’s not bad – for an American IPA it’s quite good.” [No marks out of 10 given]

19.25pm Rick denies paralyticness. “He hasn’t even really entered Yorkshire yet”, says Moggy.

19.28pm Magnus and Moggy comment on your correspondent’s typing style. “It’s like you’re playing the piano.” More American beer next, this time with a (rather gruesome) cartoon dog on the label:

Flying Dog Belgian Style Raging Bitch IPA (8.3%)
Ewan confirms that it is indeed very Belgian. “It tastes like Leffe.” Mog thinks it’s good: “This is delicious, I wish to drink it in expensive half pints.” Pete says there’s a ‘manageable nose’ and a peppery taste. “A little bit too bitter on the end but nice, peppery and rounded. Could do with being a bit colder.” He gives it 8/10. Graham thinks it’s “quite tasty”, with loads of flavour. Kat and Sarah are drinking cups of tea, but Sarah takes time out to contribute “o rly” and “bukkit” to the forum. Overall Score: [7.5/10]

19.33pm Hoo and Haa occurs, because Carsmile tells Pete to ‘calm down dear’ and Pete calls Carsmile ‘David Cameron’. In other news the masala mung daal snacks have not gone down well, because they smell of sulphurous caves. Sarah gives 9/10 for her cup of tea – it would be ten but there was only semi-skimmed milk.

19.39pm Carsmile, Pete and Ewan are talking about beer and its relative strengths – US beers seem designed to be served chilled. Unfortunately none of the beers we are sampling have been chilled. Let’s try another room-temperature US beer and see how it fares:

Odell IPA (7%)
Kat likes this a lot! It’s very hoppy and goes well with Lady Grey tea. It’s softer and more mellow than most super-hoppy beers. She gives it 9/10. Pete likes it too: “it doesnt touch the sides – nice.” Graham says “very different from the Raging Bitch, softer and more summery.” Rick thinks it’s lovely – good, chuggable and strong. “I can imagine myself sitting in a bar in Portland drinking this in pints and having to be wheeled home. Just a really nice beer.” Rick also makes a very good point that it’s not excessively grapefruity, unlike some of the other hoppy American IPAs.

Wall chart comment: “Probs needs not to be drunk from a mug.” Overall Score: [9/10]

19.47pm Magnus eats some crisps. All berate Kat for not paying attention to beer discussion and looking at shit on twitter instead.

St Austell Proper Black & Proper Job (6% & 5.5%)

First up, the Black: “Tastes like a gorgeous Black Russian OM NOM!” “Doesn’t taste anything like normal ‘Proper’ Proper Job”. “Nicest yet.” Pete says it’s “like licking a slice of burnt toast. The hops are overroasted, which is good but it tastes of carbon.” Some discussion of chewing pencils/licking coal/snorting coal dust. All these seem like ‘ludacris suggestions’. Kat hates it because it’s smokey but not bacony, and this feels like a missed opportunity: “Waaaaah.” Magnus says “smoke on the water”.

Now for the Job: “all a bit forward, tastes a bit sweet.” Moggy sums it up as “Like an IPA top – alright but too sweet for the name.” Others agree that it’s too sweet, despite its murky naming origins: “sweetly downable but politically unacceptable. A dilemma.” Carsmile defends it – “if you go to Cornwall (or Glastonbury) and get it straight out of the keg then it’s bluddy lovely.” After some thought, Rick gives his opinion: “W/evs, basically”.

19.54pm It appears we are ‘living in an age of beer revolution’ regarding black IPA (cf the Kernel etc). The back of the Proper Black label states some nonsense or other on this subject. Consumption of the Proper Black has evoked hip thrusting dancing (quite disturbing) and ‘ooooOOOOO’ noises (no less disturbing).

20.00pm Dani swigs a mystery drink: “subtle caramel tones, quite fizzy, a bit of a head, very sweet. Caffeiney, cough mixtureish, yet a refreshing mouthfeel.” It is COCA COLA do you see. Over half the attendees have gone outside ftb drunk. Eventually everyone comes back inside for more beer, Ewan wants something insane. Rick suggests the Yellow Snow. Ewan wants to do the 1000 IBU Mikkeller ‘before we’re dead’. Mogs unwraps the delicate covering of the Mikkeler, we all go blind, triffids take over the planet etc.

20.13pm Ewan shouts out ‘Cumberbatch Penis!’ I take a photo of him opening…

Mikkeler Barrel Aged 1000 IBU (9.6%)
Everyone laughs as they taste this beer. “It’s LOVELY,” says Kat, who gives it 9/10. “Smokey good, with more bacony Liquid Smoke going on.” Pete also gives it 9 – he would like to drink this with a wedge of lemon in it. “Lovely sweetness at the front.” Graham says it’s like “fine port that you might sip”. Rick says there’s no way this is ten times more bitter than other beers (for a comparison, the Odell IPA is 60IBU). He agrees that it is however “incredibly smokey”. Ciori says it’s like Earl Grey, with some burnt malt (rather than normal malt). Ewan says it’s “really good for that kind of beer”. Carsmile laments that the only problem with this 1000 IBU bitter is that it’s not bitter enough! Magnus is “stricken”.

Other comments: “A beer you have to exhale.” “Bukkit” “The 1974 Netherlands of World Cup Ale” “Alcoholic Liquid Smoke” “Mmmmm…Bacon!!” “Not so much smoked as burnt; nice though…” “…but couldn’t drink a whole half.” Overall Score: [8/10]

Rogue Brutal IPA (6.2%)
“Not metal”, says Moggy, although she “can see Iron Maiden fans drinking that”. She is referring to her mum. Other comments: “Rogue are a bunch of pussies.” “trooper”, “fruity”, “I just drank Mikkeller 1000 IBU. Sorry, Rogue, this is not brutal”, “tumbleweed”.

20.20pm Several beers are currently doing the rounds, and it becomes difficult for your correspondent to keep track of what everyone’s saying AND type it all out at the same time. Therefore the following comments may be slightly inaccurate:

Kernel IPA Citra (6.2%)
Moggy says this is “delicious like a mango beer”. Someone else (presumably Pete) says “like a lovely mango beer but I can get that in the Swimmer”. Kat has figured out how to do a ‘ß’ on the laptop keyboard: “Grußdiche!” Magnus waxes lyrical: “how this dances over the tastebuds! The blend ooff Ooff smooth filter blend lemon tang”. Wall chart comments: “I am bored of Citra as a hop already”, “co-sign”, “pot pourri much?”

Pitfield 1837 IPA (7.0%)
This beer has been in the cupboard for a while. Moggy says it’s “too fucking Stoke Newington.” Kat says it’s “a bit bland after everything we’ve had.” Rick is disappointed with how fizzy this has become – all the floral notes have gone. “Too bitter, too fizzy, too farmer’s market (even for me!)”

20.24pm Carsmile announces that, after a 5 minute conversation, it has been decided that “bitterness is subjective, however, fuck it let’s drink something nice”. Your correspondent DISAGREES. However your correspondent has also kinda lost track of what the hell is happening.

20.28pm Someone has uttered the words ‘Tadcaster’. A Sam Smiths adventure surely can’t be far away. Graham shows Kat a whole Facebook group dedicated to Princess Beatrice’s Valentino haut-couture hat, which Kat thinks should have had a picture of her dead aunt Pritt Stick-ed in. Sarah writes ‘jiggly jiggly jiggly’ on the wall chart. The culprit is revealed!

Double American IPA (9.2%)
This is actually a Brewdog beer made for the Tesco Finest range. No, we don’t know either. Rob says it “tastes exactly like an American IPA”. Rick says it’s ok, but it’s too much of a barley wine than an an IPA. Rick and Moggy decide it is “the Barley wine Kanye West”. Magnus says “Think not of what you can do for ale. Think only of what this ale can do for you. Which is leave a bitey but quite pleasant after taste.”

20.40pm SteveM says “we are in the post-meme malaise”.

Brewdog IPA Is Dead (7.5%)
More Brewdog – this time we have 4 bottles of 7.5% IPA, all with different single hops as bases:

#1: Sorachi Ace Last weekend (at Mason & Taylor’s Single Hop Beer Festival) Rick had another beer made from this hop – then, on the first sip he thought ‘this isn’t even beer’, but by the time he’d finished it ‘it was a new future for beer’. Now he thinks “this is fucking horrible”. Ewan says it’s too buttery: “least favourite hop, it can hop off”. Pete adds “some hops shouldn’t be allowed on their own”. Someone says “The Jimmy Saville of real ales – likeable but a bit odd”. Dani replies saying it’s “the Retsina of real ales – unlikeable, just as Retisna is the most unlikeable of wine”. Wall chart comments: “Not a real hop”, “bonkers mod”, “It’s beer Jim but not as we know it (damn it Jim, I’m a doctor, not a brewer).”

#2: Citra “Nice, fresh and lively but tastes just like the Kernel Citra,” says Ewan. Moggy thinks it’s perfectly nice but it didn’t compare to the Kernel Citra in terms of fruitiness, and would never drink it in more than a half measure. “It’s almost like mimosa/prosecco cocktail, ideal for a breakfast drink.” Magnus approves (“Ooh! Nice”); SteveM likes it very much “a definitive citra for our age”. He makes a flamboyant hand gesture and gives it 8/10.

#3: Bramling “Ham in a glass,” says Moggy. “Quite nice and significantly better than the Sarachi Ace”, say Carsmile. Ewan says it’s ok. Wall chart comment: “It’s super and tastes like smoked ham or gammon or bacon or (snip)”

#4: Nelson Sauvin Moggy says its nice and plummy. “And French!” “Intense and grapefruity.” An 8/10 from Ewan, not just because it’s from New Zealand (and Scotland). Or France. “Sour shower flower power,” says Magnus.

21.11pm Your correspondent has brief interlude upstairs as she feels a bit ‘giddy’. Much better after 10 min lie down! Meanwhile:

Sam Smiths India Ale (5.0%)
Carsmile: “Pretty much like Greene King.” Other dudes: “All dayer – good with a spicy pizza”, “Super duper bland.”

21.21pm A strange smell of drains appears. It is deemed an appropriate time for another Rogue beer, this time one with a dog on the label:

Rogue Yellow Snow IPA (6.2%)
Rick finds this quite boring. Kerry feels patriotic as this beer is brewed within 20 miles of her hometown: “It would be delicious if it were refrigerated, but since careless people failed to do this it has ended up as a middle of the road boring type thing. If it were refrigerated people would truly appreciate it for the Mental Juice it is.” She strikes a dramatic pose. “Don’t eat the yellow snow,” warns Magnus. “Do drink this though.” Other comments: “Why do this brewery only make fruity beer and then give it a Soviet label?”

Next we have the beer with an entire hop plant in. It also contains All The Booze.

Sierra Nevada Hoptimum (10.4%)
The Tenants Super of IPA! Moggy says it reminds her of a documentary about substance abuse in Bristol. “I drunk 2 cans of Super Skol so had to get a bag of heroin.” “The means to a very messy end,” says Graham, who gives it 1/10. “It’s just not right. I would rather drink vodka and tonic instead.” Kerry rates this as one of her top 3 maddest IPAs ever (in a good way). The other two are unsurprisingly from Oregon: Ninkasi Total Domination and Bridgeport Hop Czar.

Other comments: “MEH! Really MEH!” “Oh this is just silly now isn’t it?” “The hops have been differentiated to find the point of inflection.”

21.38pm Minor disagreement betwixt Graham and Kerry re: the relative merits of vodka versus IPA. It’s all very good natured, though slightly less coherent than it could be. Eugene is apparently ‘a place’. Rick has put on ‘Spectre vs Rector’ by MES & His The Falls. Unclean!

WJ King’s IPA (4.8%)
“Very interesting and surprisingly tasty for a 5% UK Sussex beer,” says Carsmile. Sarah says she could continue drinking this for several pints: “Lovely and smooth, but not buttery or margariney or indeed olive oily. Smooth but good!” Rob agrees on the smoothness front. “Not what I was expecting from an IPA”.

Saranac Imperial IPA (8.5%)
SteveM thinks this is nice as well. The wallchart agrees: “Oh hello, I am an American IPA. I am okay.” “A bit like Brains 45. I miss Brains 45 :(”

Durham Magic IPA (7.0%)
Carsmile perks up. “It be why aye like! Quite grapefruity, very citrusy.” Rick says it’s nice, but it tastes like IPA (???). “Never believe it’s not so,” says Magnus.

Kernel IPA C.S.C. (7.1%)
This has three different kinds of hop in it – Centennial, Simcoe and Chinook. Pete says it “doesn’t smell of dope – it smells of changing at Crewe.” Alexandra or the railway station? This is unspecified. “Nice though!”

22.06pm Ewan and Kerry depart. SteveM says he has enjoyed the blue cheese. Some debate as to who has been using the orange pen – turns out to be Moggy. SteveM is more pissed than this time last week and says he is going to go home and tweet, though he doesn’t actually do this.”This is proof that IPA is better than cider.” Your correspondent would like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that we at Freaky Trigger promote responsible drinking.

Anderson Valley Hop Ottin IPA (7%)
This beer is from a place called BOONVILLE, like that dude what died out of Lost. SteveM says this is “crisp, comfortable in its own skin.” Moggy thinks it’s really nice. “Standard IPA, with the good aspects of an US one, but doesn’t need to be cold to drink and isn’t overflavoured.” Magnus says that “this is full on fineness. Family name honoured.”

22.19pm SteveM is ‘bollocksed’. Rick is spouting nonsense to Mog at the sink. People are talking about CATHOLICISM and its many flaws but we still love it anyway for some reason.

Brooklyn East India Pale Ale (6.9%)
“Nice.”

22.25pm Rick appears to have put two records on simultaneously. We open some non-IPA beers including the Kernel Export India Porter (“this man has dominion over the sun and the sky. And the hops”) and the Leek Dark Peak Extra Strong black stout (“extra-minging more like”).

22.40pm Someone has put THE MANICS on the stereo. Kat denies all knowledge of how that copy of The Holy Bible got on the CD shelf.

22.54pm Kate Bush is now on the stereo, much better. SteveM is doing an impression of her funny voice by saying ‘ThE WEEddiNg lEEst’. People are still drinking things aren’t IPA despite the fact that we have several unopened IPAs on the table: the Wobbly Badger smells of Mini Eggs. “When my life has reached its platonic state I shall ask for this to be poured on my pancakes”.

We arrive at the end of the evening with an important question that has plagued the thoughts of mankind for centuries: how much vitamin C is there in an orange Revel?

CONCLUSION

Our final top 10:

1. Odell IPA (US)
2. Mikkeller (DEN)
3. St Austell Proper Black (UK)
4. Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA (US)
5. Thornbridge Jaipur (UK)
6. Great Divide Hercules Double IPA (US)
7. Moor’s JJJ IPA (UK)
8. Flying Dog Belgian Style Raging Bitch IPA (US)
9. Kernel IPA Black (UK)
10. WJ King’s IPA (UK)

Least favourite beer: Greene King IPA, with Brewdog’s Sorachi Ace close behind.

Deferred beers: Marstons Old Empire (5.7%), St Peters IPA (5.5%), Hardknott Infra Red (6.5%), Marble Lagonda IPA (5.0%), Southwold ‘M&S’ Winter IPA (6.7%), Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA (6%), Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA (9%), Smuttynose (6.6%). We are all very disappointed that we forgot to try the Smuttynose.

Full list of beers, A-Z:

Adnams American Style IPA
Anderson Valley Hop Ottin IPA
Ascot Royal IPA
Ballast Point Big Eye IPA
Brewdog IPA Is Dead (Citra, Bramling, Nelson Sauvin, Sorachi Ace)
Brewdog Punk IPA
Brewdog/Tesco Double American IPA
Brooklyn East India Pale Ale
Caledonian Deuchars IPA
Flying Dog Belgian Style Raging Bitch IPA
Fullers Bengal Lancer
Great Divide Hercules Double IPA
Greene King IPA
Kernel IPA Black
Kernel IPA C.S.C.
Kernel IPA Citra
Left Hand 400 Pound Monkey
Meantime IPA
Mikkeler Barrel Aged 1000 IBU
Moor’s JJJ IPA
Odell IPA
Pitfield 1837 IPA
Rogue Brutal IPA
Rogue Yellow Snow IPA
Sam Smiths India Ale
Saranac Imperial IPA
Sierra Nevada Hoptimum
Sierra Nevada Torpedo Extra IPA
St Austell Proper Black
St Austell Proper Job
Stone Cali-Belgique
Thornbridge Jaipur
Wadworth Henry’s Original IPA
White Shield IPA
WJ King’s IPA

*Someone has written underneath “#kitteninnaflatcap”, included a small drawing of said flat cap, then added “not v flat :(“.

Just off the Lauriston roundabout in Hackney, near Victoria Park, stands a handsome pub on the corner of a residential street. It used to be something else. Didn’t they all? Not that its previous incarnation was any great shakes. In fact, it was terrible. But crucially, it was also ignorable. Now, BEHOLD. The HEMINGWAY.

It’s one of those refurbs that’s been carefully designed to appear old and burnished, like it’s been there since The Sun Also Rises came out. Overstuffed leather couches hulk around like dozing ponies. The walls are.. wait, what the hell is on the walls? It’s dozens of taxidermied HUNTING TROPHIES.* Cause Ernest Hemingway liked to shoot stuff! I guess?? It all feels quite manly. This is your den, gents. A large (nonfunctional) hearth is adorned with a mantelpiece on which recline several ersatz leather-bound volumes of… shall you guess? Go on, guess. Who do you think the author is? The author of every book on the mantel? Well done.

My companions and I (ages: 36 and 2) had planned on eating here. So it’s not as though we’d wanted a straight boozer experience and been shanghaied by gastronomy. No, we were in the mood for the kind of comfort stodge the New Year always seems to demand. The Hemingway seemed just the place. I toddled back toward our low coffee table from the bar (which has been crowned with a bespoke copper drop-ceiling) with one glass of red wine and one Doom Bar. £10. The menu looked yummy but no cheaper than the Empress of India, a proper sit-down restaurant four minutes away with fanatically attentive staff. No such staff at the Hemingway, but hey, at least there was Connect 4.**

We ended up at the Fish House, where we were treated like kings. My 2-year-old companion even got a tour of the kitchen.

* I have since been told that some of these trophies are “fictional animals”, taxidermy artwork created specifically for the pub. I’m not sure whether this makes them more or less objectionable.

** Famously, Connect 4 was Hemingway’s favourite diversion. When asked, near death, if he had any regrets, “Papa” is said to have expressed longing for a pocket-sized Connect 4 game made from cherrywood and ivory which was shattered when an errant poacher’s bullet entered his hunting vest near the left breast pocket. The wooden case stopped the bullet and saved his life but “better the hunter than the game,” he said, such was his devotion to it.

So now we will now be allowed to get Schooners, an Australian measured which has been lobbied for by, I don’t know, the odd Walkabout pub. Wine will now be available in a dazzling array of glass sizes, and still underpoured in each. Finally the flight of wine that Heston serves on his nine course meal will be legal. That little taster they give you in your local half decent real ale pub finally becomes less of a hanging offence. These things are all good. But I went on a day course to learn that ALL SPIRITS must be served in multiples of 25ml and thus cocktail culture in the UK has been stunted ever more.

How making it easier to make cocktails properly will tackle BINGE DRINK BRITAIN I don’t know. But I for one will be ripping up my British Institute of Innkeepers certificate on the way to the pub.

It really may well be the tenth anniversary of the Annual Between Christmas And New Year Pub Crawl (FTABCANYPC or as we like to call it Fat Abs Canny PC). Every year since 2000 the drinkers of Freaky Trigger have spent the 29th December in a pub. Well, at least seven pubs infact, as it’s the quietest pub day of the year, so we do our bit for the licensed trade and try to bolster their coffers.

Past crawls have taken in the Euston Hexagon, the Mornington Crescent, strange arcane routes across the river and last year a foray into Pimlico. The pubs are always interesting and at least one is always shut. This will almost certainly be the case this year as we have boldly decided to hit the City – and area we never normally drink in. We know that there are lots of pubs, some may even be good, and we are taking advantage of the downtime between Christmas and New Year to see some of them. If they are open.

So I give you the City Rat (I tried to make it look like a Bowler hat honest guv but it looks like a rat to me).

We start at 3pm by Liverpool Street Station:
3pm: Dirty Dicks
4pm : Stone Horse Paper Cow
5pm: Lord Aberconway
5:45pm: Cock And Woolpack
6:30pm: Jamaica Wine House
7:15pm: New Moon
8:15pm The Counting House

We will then stay at the Counting House until kicking out time, or the fall of global capitalism, WHICH EVER IS SOONEST. Or we go to another pub which sometimes happens. Please come along, and if it is your first time remember this isn’t about drinking (completely) – rather savouring the interesting architecture of London’s pubs. Well, maybe a bit of drinking too. Also as this is the city (and the pub crawl, a number of these pubs will almost certainly be closed and last minute replacements may happen, so make sure you follow the #pubcrawl2010 on Twitter. Or e-mail us and we’ll give you our mobile number.

Facebook event here if you want to invite other people.

are delicious, delightful All Natural CHEESTRINGS original flavour. The tasteful purple packaging proclaims them to be 100% natural cheese, but STRETCHED, just like mozzarella. Mmm, mozzarella. Inside, each of the sticks of cheese comes sheathed in its own little wrapper, like condoms or, we muse, glowsticks. (Resident raving expert D tries glowsticking using them, and reports that they’re comfortable to use; soft, so as not to exacerbate his rave-calluses, but possibly a bit short, and with a tendency to bend.) (Also they do not glow.)

When I peel away the plastic wrapper, my cheestring droops flaccidly, looking quite pathetic; a quick peruse of the packaging informs me that cheestrings should be kept refrigerated, and these have been affining at room temperature for a few days now.

How to prepare a cheese string: peel slivers of cheese from the stick. The slivers are wriggly, and sticky, and feel rather unpleasant.

How to eat a cheese string: chew and chew and chew and chew. Be baffled by the utter lack of flavour. Chew some more, marvelling at the odd, plasticy texture. Fail to taste anything at all.

Even Sidney T, the greediest dog I know, seems underwhelmed by their lack of flavour.

An extra-creamy French raw milk cow’s cheese, with a layer of fresh truffles running through its centre. I bought this from the truffle stall Tartufaia Truffles.

Brillat Savarin alone is a tasty cheese; rich and creamy, subtley mushroomy, and incredibly indulgent. So how much better (and oinkier!) can the added-truffle version be?

Once I nearly blubbed into my dinner in a very posh restaurant, because my truffle-based dish tasted so good. It would have been a shame; it was a perfectly-seasoned dish and did not need my salty tears. But that’s how much I like truffles. I like to think that I”ve been very patient, waiting until now to try this cheese, but actually, it’s mostly because this little cheese is not always available. Truffles are seasonal and so is the cheese.

Anyway! The cheese! We have a quarter of a round, with a fuzzy white rind and a rich creamy interior that’s liquid towards the rind, and more solid in the middle. A line of dark fungal goodness bisects the wedge.

The rind tastes slightly vegetal, and juicy; sweet and fruity. Under the rind the cheese is liquid cream, with just a hint of mushrooms and the slight tang of yoghurt or buttermilk. In the centre – truffles! There are slices of the fungus itself – little thin slivers of chewy joy – but the rich flavour has also infused its way out into the cheese, and so the cheese is richly scented with the savoury mushroomyness, and rich earthy taste of the truffle.  The cheese is delicious, the truffles are delicious, the cheese and truffles together are delicious, too. Brillat-Savarin, for all its creamy indulgence, is a mild tasting cheese, and doesn’t overwhelm the truffle’s subtle flavour. There’s a delight in the way that the mushroom tones of the cheese mingle with with those of the truffle. I love this! My cheese-eating chum does too – at any rate, he fights me for his fair share of it. I’d have cheerfully eaten it all, and more, myself.

Pecorino Pepato

A hard Italian sheep’s cheese, dotted with peppercorns. Bought from a mystery stall.

This cheese is fissured and crumbly, a very pale cream in colour – almost white – and scattered with black peppercorns.

It’s got a texture not unlike pressed ricotta; both crumbly and chewy all at once, with a tiny hint of squeak. It tastes salty and peppery. Peppercorns are liberally scattered through the cheese, but their taste has infused out; even the corn-free bits have a peppery bite. The peppercorns themselves have been mellowed by their time in the cheese. Their flavour, while still intense, is not alarming. They’re not as crunchy as peppercorns eaten straight from the jar, but they’re great fun to bite into. The cheese itself is spicy – obviously – and also salty, sweet and juicy. It would be a tasty cheese even without the pepper, I think, but the spicy addition is delicious.

Cheese-eating chum says that this feels like a meaty cheese to him; we wonder whether this is partly because it tastes a bit like pepper-sauce, which is most often found atop a steak.

And here, in reverse order, are the best cheeses so far, and how they rated with my tasters.

No 6: Cardo

Cardo’s a washed rind cheese, representing brevibacterium linens, the beast which also makes feet stinky. When cheese smells of socks, it’s the b.linens to blame. Cardo’s perfect when it’s ripe and runny and gloopy and silky, and the Cardo for sale when I was doing my shopping wasn’t liquid enough yet. St James stood in for Cardo; it’s a little stinkier than Cardo, and not as luciously silky, and, while Cardo is made from goat’s milk, St James is a sheepy cheese. What did my tasters think of it?

om nom nom  EEEUUGH it does taste like socks :(

The saltiness of this gets my attention; it’s almost unpleasant.

No 5: Tomme Crayeuse

This cheese is representing the regular bacterial action – the Lactococci, Lactobacilli and Streptococci present in all cheeses. It’s also, with its weird ocher-patched rind, representing the minority fungi of the cheese world.

Lovely and creamy and perfectly suited to my dairylea-lovin’ palate

Tom cruise is a cheese of two halves. intitially dull but the gooey rind shows improvement. when eaten along with a gulp of BEER it could add a few points.

No 4: Persillé de Malzieu

Penicillium roqueforti (and its sibling Penicillium glaucum) are the delicious blue-green moulds that give blue cheese its spicy bite, and spicy, salty Persille de Malzieu has a huge helping of these.

Nom nom nom nom nom nom nom nom

Shock blue crystals with a mild fizz! the sweetness approaching the rind knocks a few marks off.

No 3: St Tola

St Tola is two cheeses in one; in the centre, it’s fresh lemony goat on the inside, but the outside is covered in a wrinkled rind caused by Geotrichum candidum, which also causes the lucious liquid breakdown underneath the rind, and gives it such a sweet nutty taste.

Amazing fluffy goat of gorgeous. If I was building a house of cheddar bricks this would be the cement.

Love the pillowyness of this.

No 2: L’Etivaz

The holes in swiss cheese are caused by Propionibacterium freudenreichii – a relative of the bacteria that causes acne. Not all swiss cheese develops the holes; I think that the temperature the cheese is kept at during ageing affects this. L’Etivaz isn’t a holey cheese, but it’s still got a rich nutty taste.

Sparkly fizzy vampire spacerock cheese. <3

I’m still tasting it now, lovely lingering complex taste, which initially appears straightforward but is deceptive!

And the winning cheese is….

No 1: Flower Marie

Flower Marie’s like a little mouse, covered in the fuzzy furry mould of Penicillium candidum. Flower Marie’s delicious, soft and oozing under the rind, and chalkier in the middle. Rich and creamy – it’s a sheep’s milk cheese – it tastes of herbs and mushrooms.

Oooh lovely, nom nom

Is like the most awesome brie ever

Nice MOUSEfeel! if it was possible for wine to be buttery and still taste nice I expect it might be like this.

Some quick points;

• The quick-calculating sharper-eyed amongst you will notice that L’Etivaz and Flower Marie came out a tie. I got a casting vote. My cheese competition, my rules!
• It’s not really surprising that the more extreme cheeses fared less well; they alienated some folk with their stenchy, prickly, mouldy habits.
• There’s an unopened packet of marmite cheddar in my fridge. What should I do with it?

Thank you to all tasters, who generously gave up their Saturday night to drink beer and eat alarming cheeses! I’ll start writing up the next 100 cheeses

Tomorrow I’ll be revealing my favourite cheeses from the 100 I’ve written up here, and I’ll be harnessing the powers of drunken chums science to work out the Supreme Winning Champion Cheese. But for now, here’s cheese 100.

Montgomery’s Cheddar

A hard raw-milk cow’s cheese from Somerset, bought from Neals Yard Dairy.

Monty’s is a real beast of a cheddar; strong and dense and farmy. I think it’s my favourite cheddar, and it’s definitely a classic. The rind of our wedge is pale biscuity white, imprinted with the pattern of the cloth it was bound in. It’s smattered with fissures of a powdery beige – these remind me of lunar craters, but are the work of the cheese mite. Cheese mites love cheddar!

Inside, the paste’s a good, bright patchy yellow colour, with occasional bright patches where crystals have formed. It crumbles and cracks as I cut a slice.

In my mouth, it feels solid – good and chewy. It tastes rather epic; the sort of flavour that goes on for days, progressing and developing. Here’s a rundown;

• First, a sweet, slightly nutty mellow flavour.
• Then it opens out and becomes salty.
• Next, a sudden top -of-mouth sharpness appears, bright, cheerful and fruity (kumquats and pineapples), and very acidic.
• This expands outwards, making me drool a bit and suck my cheeks in.
• Another whomph of that almondy milky sweetness, in the centre of the sharpness.
• A developing undertone of ‘farmyard’; poo and silage and mud. Not very subtle.
• There’s a dense, rich meatiness to this as well; like french onion soup on a cold day.
• The back of my throat feels warm and prickles when I swallow.
• A lingering, mellow taste of farmyard and milk hangs around in my mouth and throat.

And, of course, while all of these tastes are doing their thing, there’s also the slow softening and crumbing of the cheese in my mouth, and occasional moments of glee when I crunch into a lactic acid crystal.  (Hurrah for lactic acid crystals! They’re so much fun!)

The mite-pitted rind is chewy and slightly sweet, and tastes of cowpat and dettol. It prickles my mouth a little. It’s not really for eating.

(Monty’s also makes delicious cheese straws, macaroni cheese, and cheese on toast. Its wilder tendencies are curbed, a little, when it’s cooked, but it’s still got a deep, rich intense flavour.)

A small Italian goat’s cheese from The Tasting Room

This round little goat’s cheese comes sitting in its own cupcake wrapper. A label sits directly on the cheese, depicting a hairy, horny goat. The cheese underneath is a pale cream colour, with big, squidgy geotrichium wrinkles and a smattering of white bloom peeking out around them. When I cut a wedge, there’s a sticky, gloopy liquid layer underneath the rind and a solid white chalky centre.

It’s sticky and luscious, tasting milky and nutty, and with a hint of warm dry straw. The soft skin of the rind prickles my mouth just a tiny bit, and tastes of mushroom soup and almonds. The hard centre of the cheese has a touch of moussyness to it, and is slightly sharper; it tastes of salt and lemonpips.

Gorgonzola Picante

A blue cow’s milk cheese from Italy, also bought from The Tasting Room.

Green craters and cracks, rich with powdery mould, are scattered all over our wedge of this cheese. Underneath, the paste is pale primrosy yellow, turning orange towards the rind.

It’s soft like butter too long out of the fridge. It tastes quite intensely blue; mouthwateringly warm and spicy, with a mineral hardness. There’s a gentle menthol-ish vapour up my nose, and the back of my mouth tingles from the mould. The intense spiciness is balanced out by a good helping of salt, and there’s a mellow milkiness that keeps everything grounded. Lurking towards the back is one of those elusive, nostalgia-triggering aromas; I think it’s lemon curd, despite there being nothing very lemony about this cheese.

The rind is also delicious; it’s not so blue, but is cheerily sweet, buttery smooth and mellow, with just a touch of astringency and a musty, woody undertone.

Blu di capra

A blue raw milk (I think) goats cheese from Lombardi, Italy, bought from Gastronomica.

The pale, almost grey paste of this cheese is smatterd and scored with a green mould. The rind’s a bloomy mix of white and biscuity colours, with occasional patches of the same mould. When I cut into the cheese, it crumbles slightly.

I’m surprised by how chewy this cheese is; even the melty liquid centre of the wedge gives some resistance underneath my teeth. The edges of the cheese crumble, and a sticky liquid fills the mould-lined piercing veins – when I try it alone, it prickles my mouth. In sensible portions, though, this cheese is sweet and mellow, tasting of caramel-toffee, with a gentle blueness and a rich, dense, indulgent-feeling texture. Its goaty origins are also in evidence, with a touch of that distinctive farmyard tang and a undertone of herbs. The goaty bite and mellow blue tastes are very much distinct from each other, yet get on surprisingly well together; I think it’s the over-arching sweet milky and toffee flavours pulling them together. The rind is hard and chewy, with a hint of bubblegum.

Scamorza affumicata

A smoked cow’s milk cheese from Italy, also bought from Gastronomica

For ages I’ve been curious about these little bundles of smokiness, but smoked cheeses do always feel like a bit of a risk; what if they taste of nothing but smoke and are a huge disappointment? I bravened up, and we tried this after gorging ourselves on the blue cheese above.

These little cows-milk mozzarella-alikes are tied around their bellies with ribbon, making them pearshaped, before being hung up and smoked to a soft brown hue on the outside. When I cut into ours, it’s a pale yellow inside, with an elasticy texture.

More like a skin than a rind, the thin outer layer comes away easily, and tastes incredibly, densely smoky, strong and lingering.  Isolate the paler, slightly crumbly innards, though, and it’s much lighter and subtle, with a sweet, cusp-of-sourness milky taste, rich and creamy, and just hint of splintery, woody smokiness.

We keep back half of out little cheese bulb to try on a pizza the next evening. Melted and mingled with mozzarella, ricotta and pecorino, it’s absolutely superb.

This is a little leaf-shaped nugget of cheese, covered in a pretty wrinkled geotrichium rind. It’s been dusted with ash, top and bottom, and is a lovely charcoal-grey colour under its wrinkles. The sides are paler and less ashy, but still have that brain-wrinkled rind, pale creamy yellow with a white bloom.

When I hack a wedge from this cheese, underneath the rind is predictabley, and delightfully, stickily liquid. The centre of the cheese is a bright white, with a crumbling open texture. The ashy patches of this cheese have a slightly bitter taste, offset by the sweet, milky almond liquid layer. Where there’s less ash, the  rind is sweeter, and mellow, with a fragrant herbal undertone.

There’s an incredibly flaky and light texture to the centre of this cheese; it makes me think of lovely, buttery puff pastry. It melts away to nothing, and tastes typically goaty – creamy and sweet, with a light acidic lemon tang.

Andeerer Bergkäse
A hard cow’s cheese, bought from Käseswiss

We have a slice from a large wheel of this cheese. It’s got a pale biscuit-coloured rind, criss-crossed with tiny basket-weave indentations. Under the rind, the pale yellow paste is smooth and silky.

The rind tastes sweet and nutty, and very mellow. The silky, supple texture of the cheese dissolves away very quickly, in my mouth . It tastes of hazelnuts and cream, rich, sweet and smooth, and with a slight back-of-throat tang. It’s a pleasant cheese, but not very exciting or interesting, and it’s a little too mild, and too mild-mannered, for me.

Terschelling Schapenkaas

A hard, pasturised sheep’s cheese from Terschelling, in the Netherlands, bought from Boerenkaas.

We have a wedge of this hard sheep’s cheese. Its interior is an opaque pale creamy white, smooth-looking, and dotted with uneven little holes. Towards the rind it becomes translucent and a little darker.

It’s slightly softer than I’d imagined, looking at the solid wedge, and silky smooth. It tastes bright and tangy, and wonderfully creamy, rich and luscious; lots of yoghurty and buttery flavours and textures. There’s tinge of gentle hazelnut to it, and also an unusual blueberry aroma. The rind’s harder, quite chewy, and reminiscent of pineapple. This is a good, gentle, balanced cheese; the yoghurty bite cuts through the sweet richness of the sheep’s milk and the fruity and nutty tones are restrained and very civilised.

Oude Remeker

A raw-milk cow’s cheese from Lunteren, also in the Netherlands, and also bought from Boerenkaas.

This is a different animal, entirely. We’ve bought a similar sized and shaped wedge to the soft sheepy cheese above, but this beast of a cheese is a dark yellow-orange colour, wrapped in a deep red wax rind. It’s liberally speckled with caesin crystals almost the size of my head – huge, they are! It tastes rich and dark and dense; of coffee, and beef gravy and yeasty beer, and of the sticky sweetness of raisins, prunes and dried dates. The texture’s meltingly buttery, and slightly crumbly, and the crystals explode like popping candy under my teeth.  This cheese means business, and although I like it very much, its relentless crunch and intense taste are almost overwhelming. Too much of this and you’d need to have a quiet lie-down.

And while I was there, I noticed that Asda also sold something billed as the Ultimate Chocolate Cheese – Wensleydale with Belgian milk chocolate liberally scattered through it. So I sorta, umm, ended up buying that too.

The stilton looks pale, and is liberally scattered with chunks of dark orange fruit. It’s got a very soft, quite crumbly texture, reminding me slightly of putty. I taste some, and it’s incredibly, tooth-curlingly sweet. Despite the moussy insubstantial texture, it’s got a damp cloying mouthfeel that I find quite unpleasant. The lumps of orange rind are like a tiny Christmas pudding invasion – unseasonal and unwelcome – in my mouth. The pieces of peach are flabby, fibrous, and (again) sickly sweet. The white chocolate chunks are indistinguishable from the surrounding over-sweet mess. The obvious comparison to this is cheesecake, but it would be a disjointed, unpleasant, and over-busy concoction, and actually, I like my cheesecakes less sugary than this.

The Ultimate Chocolate Cheese was very similar in texture, crumbly and sticky and damp, and just as horribly sweet; I was getting accustomed to the sickly sugariness at this point. It was a disconcerting shade of pale brown, scattered with darker chocolate chunks. It tasted nothing like a Wensleydale, but rather a lot like the unpleasant chocolate yoghurt that used to appear in my school lunch box.

I’m an insufferable food snob who dislikes dried fruit, doesn’t approve of cheese-with-bits-in, and can’t abide over-sweet things. (Also, I consider white stilton a rubbish non-cheese – a sop to people too afeared of the tasty Penicillium roqueforti to sample the real thing.) I might not be best placed to appreciate the great things that these cheeses have to offer. But it wasn’t just me that recoiled in horror – FT’s own Pete tried the summer stilton, and shortly afterwards scoured the skin from his mouth and tongue with a particularly harsh century egg.

1. Royal Lochnagar 12 yo + Gorwydd’s Caerphilly (Cheesy Lover #88)

“Oh Crumbs!” says Sarah about the Caerphilly. “It absorbs all taste of whisky that’s just gone in my mouth. Once it’s finished face-punching the whisky, it tastes nice.” Juliet agrees: “the cheese smacks whisky out of the park”. Ewan is unsure of the rind.

Kerry says the whisky is very smooth and creamy, almost vanilla and cinammon-y. Katie thinks it tastes like artificial sweeteners rather than sugar, Pete G says there’s a bit of a herbal note, to which random shouting breaks out: “Pear!” “Shrub!” “WHEN CHEESE GOES WILD!”

Kat doesn’t like the Lochnagar but thinks the cheese is good – fatty and crumbly. Rick says the whisky is quite drinkable but not very exciting, Katie thinks it tastes sweet after the cheese. Marna doesn’t like it very much at all, but Mark thinks everyone is being a bit mean about it (“it would go down easily for quite a long time”). Ewan has read a children’s book called the Old Man Of Lochnagar [see left]. Mark suspects the Old Man of Lochnagar drinks whisky all day long.

Marna responds to queries concerning the whereabouts of the remaining Kraft Cheese Slices left over from April with narrowed eyes and scowled mutterings about ‘the bin’.

2. Glenrothes 13yo + 2 goat cheeses: Stawley (geo rind, CL #27) + Sleightly (ash rind, yet to be reviewed)

The Glenrothes has a rather strong whiff. “This one comes to meet you!” exclaims Mark. “Sticky toffee pudding”, says Kerry. Rick says it’s like banana toffee, but not in an aggressive banana cake way (Rick does not like banana cake as he is a FULE).

Most agree that the Stawley makes the whisky taste bitterer, and not in a good way. Pete G: “the geo and whisky combination tastes like vom – surprisingly unpleasant.” Sarah says it tastes congealed, “like that cocktail with baileys in that curdles”. However Roswell the cat likes the Stawley – she is licking it and her tail is swishing. This may be because Roswell has not drunk any of the whisky with it.

The Slately fares much better: “sharper”, “makes your tongue fizz”, “lots of gentle flowers that you cannot taste because you’ve just drunk some whisky”. Sarah and Katie say the Slately is delicious: “it tastes like A FOREST by the Cure!”

Katie does a burp and announces that it tastes of goats cheese, to general approval of the room.

3. Bowmore Dusk + Cardo (washed rind toffee, CL #26)

This whisky is an old favourite of many present, and we are very sad that they have stopped making it. There’s not much left as a lot of it was drunk last New Year’s Eve. Kat didn’t like whisky at all before she tried this last year. Katie says it’s “like a finger of fudge that has been smoked like a kipper”. Mark says it is “clinical and lovely, like a hospital”. Rick agrees that it smells more hospital-y than when he first opened it. “It tastes sharp but there’s a real thickness to this whisky.”

Katie doesn’t like the cheese, but “the whisky is very good at taking away the taste of it”. Sarah pronounces the rind on the Cardo “amazing, quite different from the rest of the cheese”. She doesn’t want to describe it as sparkly as that would be confirmation that she is in hock to a certain vampire franchise, however there are definitely seaside sandy bits. “It’s texturally like the powder that’s left in the bottom of the pork scratching bag.”

Ewan is getting flashbacks from New Year’s Eve, when he helped deplete the contents of the bottle with some rather unsavoury after-effects.

The Cardo is proving rather ‘potent’, however Rick says the Bowmore “stomps all over the cheese, which is a good thing”. Pete G makes the first mention of the word ‘mouthfeel’ and wins 10 ponce points: “The cheese is a creamy coating for the mouth, and the whisky cuts through it – a pleasant sensation”.

Robin makes bad pun about ‘peat’ and ‘Pete’.

4. Ledaig 10 yo + Isle of Mull Cheddar (CL #77)

There’s a general consternation in the room – this whisky smells of cheese already! Smoked Austrian cheese, to be specific. Could this be the mythical Sausage Cheese? No, it’s a cheddar!

“Bloody hell!”, Rick says about the Ledaig. “It goes FLUMP in the back of the mouth after a bit; it tastes sharp after the Bowmore Dusk.” Katie disagrees and thinks it tastes ‘phat’. “The whisky doesn’t taste anything like it smells – it’s delicious and mellow when you drink it.” Mark says “there’s something spectral about this – it’s insubstantial but not in a bad way. There’s a bit of a burnt taste, like ashes.” Sarah says this is the first whisky she can swill round her mouth without it burning. She tries to anthropomorphise the whisky: “if it was a pop star it would be The Nolans”.

Juliet thinks the whisky and cheese go well together, doop thinks that the cheese sets off something different about the whisky that isn’t there separately. Katie finds Rick amusing after he says his tongue has been Activated. Pete B asks if everyone’s getting a lot of saliva.

The room takes a roast potato break and there is talk about ocelots.

5. Springbank Claret Wood 12 yo + L’Etivaz (CL #90)

This whisky overwhelms everyone at first as it’s a bit strong. “Woooph!”, “orange blossom, very fruity”. doop can’t help but think of his chemistry teacher when he smells this. “It clears your head in an anti-chlorophorm way.”

Mark declares that it tastes of biscuits. Any specific biscuit? “ALL biscuits!” Katie wonders whether the claret business is making it go well with cheese. Rick replies that it’s a bit woody and oaky, but mainly in the aroma rather than the taste. Pete G adds that there’s a bit of spicy vanilla that you might associate with wine. All agree that adding a bit of water changes it dramatically.

The L’Etivaz is pronounced “bloody lovely, om nom nom!” It is indeed a lovely cheese. Is the rind edible? Marna doesn’t think it’s worth eating but everyone does anyway. Rick says it’s like oatcakes.

Popstar comparison: Marillion (with Fish) – bombast, trying very hard, lot of stuff going on, high peaks and low troughs. Sarah however doesn’t think the cheese is as good as “Kayleigh”.

The general cheese/whisky combination is thought to be tick vg thumbs up (“good cheese, good whisky, good cheese and whisky”). The dryness of the whisky is complemented well by the cheese.

6. Caol Ila 18yo + 2-beast barrel aged Feta (yet to be reviewed)

Mark says the Caol Ila smells of paper: “Lovely, lovely cardboard.” Kat can’t smell anything until she puts her nose right in it and goes “URGH”. doop also says paper, Marna says “parchmenty mouthfeel” for even more ponce points. “It’s slightly greasy.”

Rick sniggers: “I’ll tell you what, that’s bloody lovely in the mouth.” Sarah feels like she’s had 50 cigarettes but hasn’t watered it down yet. Katie has watered hers down too much, her mathematical skill is called into question by Mark and Rick.

All agree that the feta might be a bit strong for the whisky, Kat likes it a lot though. Popstar comparison: Sly and the Family Stone – “a lot of the time they are quite boring.”

Pete says something that provokes all to put him in the bin (not sure which Pete this refers to or what the bin-worthy utterance was).

7. Laphroaig 10 yo + Persillé de Malzieu (CL #13)

Some tasters are doing Crazy Frog impressions. This is the classic ‘smells like TCP’ whisky.

“This cheese is a really salty sea-cheese.” doop says it tastes more like the sea than the sea does, and not just any sea: “the Mediterranean!” Katie says the cheese makes the whisky tastes like Ribena (or possibly Robinsons fruit juice), and that it is the cheese that’s burning on the way down, not the whisky. “It’s not a cheese, it’s a health hazard!” She wouldn’t eat it for pleasure. Mark asks if she would eat it for a bet?

The cheese has made Robin’s tongue go numb, Ewan says it’s the only cheese that could make Laphroaig taste bland. Pete B says that the cheese has the saliva producing effect of szechuan pepper. Sarah says it’s all happening around the epiglottis, or possibly the glockenspiel, and that there’s an incredibly bitter aftertaste.

Herb watch: Rick says the cheese makes the whisky tastes like rosemary, Pete G thinks lavender, Marna thinks thyme. We all nod sagely.

Marna is having trouble cutting the cheese in to proper pieces; everyone else is having trouble forming proper sentences.

The formal whisky and cheese pairing ends and havoc ensues, namely dipping cheesy wotsits into glasses of Japanese whisky (“it tastes like raspberries”), waving bits of M&S cranberry stilton and Babybel around and listening to The Best Prog Rock Album In The World… Ever!, which is found to be mostly about bvmming.

CONCLUSION: Pairing cheeses and whiskies is quite difficult unless the cheese is hard and cheddar-like and the whisky isn’t utterly insane.

In cheese-with-stuff-in news I sorta want to try this. Would anyone like to watch and laugh join in?

L’Etivaz

A hard, unpasturised, alpine cow’s milk cheese from Switzerland, bought from KaseSwiss.

This is a slice of pale yellow cheese. The brown rind tastes dark and musty – not an eating-rind, really. The cheese is slightly soft, and scattered with tiny white spots of crunchy potential

The paste crumbles gently, and lactic crystals crunch and ping around my mouth. Crunchy cheeses make me giggle. The cheese tastes dense and darkly fruity, like pieces of apple picked out from a jar of mincemeat. It’s sweet and nutty , tasting of almond, toasted hazelnuts, and something like I imagine acorns to taste; smooth, cool, slightly green, and gently milky sweet. (The internet says that raw acorns are actually very bitter.) There’s a subtle pine-needle freshness, and a smidge of rosemary and thyme – a refreshing, slightly astringent grassy herbal flavour. There’s a rich, meaty aspent to this cheese, as well – marmite and mushroom ketchup, and just a hint of yeast. I can also taste just the merest touch of woodsmoke  - this combines with the rich buttey, toasty, measty flavours to make a wonderfully hearty, warming cheese.

Tom Says:
My memory may be cheating me but I think the first time we ended up in the Glasshouse Stores it was due to a power cut a pub or two along. Marvellous serendipity if so, and appropriate: an accidental pub becoming a shrine to the unintended social consequences of setting up an online community. This is the top pub of the 00s and is tied firmly to the 00s: I can quite imagine never visiting it again, which isn’t something I can say about several others. The regular ILX meet-ups we held there are mostly a thing of the past, for the happy reason that participants basically stopped being “message board posters” and started being simply ‘friends’. What that misses out is the random element, of course – the sense on entering a get-together that you never quite knew who would turn up. Sometimes new faces, occasionally unwelcome ones – the internet meet-up pitches itself halfway between the cosy drink with mates and the party.

Worth pointing out how the architecture of the pub helped enable that – we ignored the top floor (except for epic bar billiards duels) and would head for the catacombs instead, occupying the string of tables at the back of the basement level and then spreading out across to the bar and beyond. It worked perfectly: there was a lively core to each gathering but enough space to mingle, connive and catch-up in smaller groups. And – essential for groups of 20 or 30 – the beer was cheap: people could buy huge, generous, tray-busting rounds and end up with crisps and change from a twenty aswell. It’s a Sam’s pub, and the fame and decline of Sam’s mirrors the fame and decline of these particular large gatherings across the decade. Once the presiding spirit of Sam Smiths, the Ayingerbrau man in the box, departed, the Glasshouse’s role as a social hub began to wane too.

Pete says
I love drinking underground. One of my favourite places in London to drink before it was taken away from us was the Dive Bar on Gerrard St, and I guess the basement of the Spanish Bar also counts. But there is something about the cellar bar in the Glasshouse Stores which has always attracted me. Perhaps it was that it was infrequently open and staffed; only in the evenings and not always then. Often booked out for private parties, we still struck it lucky there for a lot of our large gatherings. Which meant we could spread, and spread we did like ebola. The basement of the GHS has two distinct chambers, and I favoured the one on the side of the toilets (the bar staff were more likely to be on this side too). But with a relatively loose arrangement of seating it was easy to build a party of five into a party of thirty and still have a chance to talk to everyone. Not many pubs can do that. And certainly very few can do it underground.

Katie says
Ah, the lovely Glasshouse Stores. Conveniently located bang in the middle of the Berwick St/Chinatown/Japan Centre triangle of after-skool places to shop (and do yoga). Many is the time I’ve been in there with co-conspirators for “just the one” and emerged hours later rather the worse for wear (ask Sarah about the Taddy Porter, she’ll know what I’m talking about). It’s always the first pub I think of when someone mentions Soho – and as Pete says, the underground dimension makes it still seem somehow secret and special, when other pubs that used to be secret and special (hello, the Fitzroy Tavern) have become crowded and ordinary. It was also the pub that I smoked my last EVER cigarette in. So hooray for the GHS!

Pˆnk s lord sükråt cunctør says
There were other ilx pubs, but this is the one I associate most with loose meet-ups across a decade of people not necessarily otherwise in close or regular contact — with the pub’s slightly peculiar geometry amplifying the short-term provisionality (and sometimes, though not always, doomed nature) of the many companionships: at once spacious and oddly constricted. I’ve never quite felt at home or comfy there — and never remotely unwelcome, either.

Carsmile says
In the 2003/4 season, ILX at its peak, we needed somewhere big enough to take 20-odd people (and, of course, twenty odd people) about once a fortnight, sometimes more often. It also had to be central and easily findable (Nick D’s assertion that the GHS was invisible notwithstanding). But more, much more than this, it had to be a Sam Smiths pub. These were friendly days and I’ve seen some of the biggest rounds ordered outside of a wedding or funeral go over that downstairs bar and you’d still get change from £20. At £1.62 a pint of OB*, being generous wouldn’t automatically lead to an overdraft and given some acquaintance’s (heck, and some friend’s) inability to understand the concept of “the round” it was just as well.

*this is right isn’t it? even now it seems ridiculous that it could be that cheap, but it was, wasn’t it?

Also, one of the last remaining bar billiards tables in London, played to Jonny’s slightly over-generous rules (re-spot the red as object ball every time you pot it) led to many evenings clustered round one corner of the room, and is still my main selling point for taking people there today.

Tracer Hand says
The Glasshouse Stores: my first encounter with The Fat Man, i.e. the little alpine fella who lives in a glass box on top of the bar. It was my first month in London. I was told “Ask for the Fat Man”. “Really?” I said, suspicious, knowing how gullible I was and not yet confident I could identify a piss-take on the hoof. I’m still not. But I asked, and was served up a nice cold pint of lager. Maybe life wouldn’t be so terrible here.

Magnus says
The Glasshouse Stores was the spiritual home of FAPs when FAPs had a heyday. It was hard to find the first time around – the slightly hidden frontage and a near namesake across the road set a small challenge for newcomers, but only to make it more of a gem when settled in. It was segregated: upstairs and downstairs, and each of those with three or four compact areas, so it would jumble a crowd into groups and then push them together – always forming fresh configurations of pub chat. Plenty of schemes and ruses were hatched there – the obscure architecture that encouraged this – cloistered and conspiratorial, and flowing with cheap and welcome booze. For me it was the pub for the birth of the Internet as a social club: strange but so entertaining, and intoxicating too.

Kat says
To me, the GHS is the perfect example of a bog-standard Sam Smiths. Better kept beer than the BPNS, less stuffy than the Princess Louise and more room than the Bricklayers. However I could never bloody find it so I always went to the Champion instead.

How about you…

I didn't even have a knife for cutting the cheese - you don't expect me to have a PHOTOGRAPH of it for you, do you?

A hard unpasturised goat’s milk cheese, made in Somerset and bought from Neals Yard Dairy.

Kat joined me for an impromptu picnic lunch, and we bought a wedge of this. (Note to self: next time choose a SOFTER cheese if you have no knife!) It’s a very pale parchment-coloured cheese, hard and smooth and with a smattering of tiny gaps, covered in a crumbly wrinkled light grey rind.

It starts off sweet, juicy and buttery, and slowly develops a tang reminiscent of cheddar. It’s not too sharp or farmyardy a cheddar flavour; it’s sweet and mellow, salty and creamy, subtly almondy. Bright citrussy lime notes give a glimpse of a younger goat’s cheese, and there a hint of something dark - coffee grounds or maybe cocoa powder – in the finish.

The rind’s great, too; it’s hard, crumbly, and chewy. It tastes smooth and mellow, with a bit of sparkly pineapple fruitiness, a touch of straw, and lots of damp earthy composty mushroom flavours.

Kat says that the rind tastes like the cupboard under her stairs!

The chalky centre of the cheese crumbles away to nothing in my mouth. Light and fluffy, it’s almost mousse-like; cloudy, airy and insubstatial. It tastes tangy and fresh and sparkling bright; of sherbert, butter and yoghurt. Under the rind, where the cheese has broken down, the butteriness is more intense. It’s saltier here, and smooth, tasting a little bit like a toffee sauce, and a little bit like mushrooms.

The rind looks damp and dark and musty, and it tastes that way too. It tastes of damp earth and minerals, reminding me of compost, leaf mould, undergrowth and damp garden sheds. This is delicious – do not fear the damp, dank rind. It’s one of the best bits.

When I am attempting to be civilised – i.e. not simply breaking chunks off the wedge of cheese and eating them gleefully from my fingers – this cheese is fantastic in a fresh baguette, with a scraping of butter, salted slices of ripe tomatoes, and a smidgen of pepper scattered over it all. I usually eat it straight from the paper, like the savage that I am.

I am from South Oxfordshire, which is something I generally manage to disguise by being militant about which bit of London it is best to live in. However, every now and then something will flag up my yokel origins, the most striking being the seemingly inexplicable tendency of barpeople to, when I ask for a soda and lime, hand me a mysterious pint of Strongbow which some fool has placed lime cordial into. In some situations, this is …well, not per se acceptable but something deeply British in me assumes it must be my fault somehow and drinks the pint before trying ‘diet coke’ as a phrase next time. There are, however, some situations where this is not a viable option, for instance when on prescription druqks that do not mix with lovely (or borderline-undrinkable) bouze or when handling heavy machinery, etc. which leads to me being in a permanent state of fear regarding what on earth the barperson is going to come up with.

Despite my best attempts to keep an eye on what they’re doing to stop the debacle early if needs be, sometimes it’s unclear whether a pint is being poured for someone else and sometimes they manage to do it seemingly secretly under the bar and then the horrific awkwardness begins. On the one hand, this is not what I ordered, I do not want it and am well within my rights to say ‘no, get me a soda and lime you cloth-eared fule do I look like a cider drinker? …Oh, I see’ but what if I can’t communicate to them that I wanted SODA again and the bar is busy and everyone glares at me and my incomprehensible yokelisms until I am hounded from the city with whatever it is you lot use instead of pitchforks and I don’t know, burning copies of the Evening Standard?

CONCERNS:
1) Is cider and lime becoming “a thing?” Is this what the kids are doing these days?
2) Even in my occasionally-extreme Pam Ayres accent, the words ‘cider’ and ‘soda’ are FAIRLY DISTINGUISHABLE and if a barperson isn’t sure, surely they should check?
3) Am I going to have to start asking for ‘lime cordial and soda water’ like some kind of a ponce or should I just give up and have an orange juice and lemonade like a normal? (mind you, that would probably come back as a hot toddy or something)

Most worryingly what in the name of everything flat, cloudy and served warm to be drunk whilst leaning over a fencepost is THIS?

I know we’ve had Peronelle’s “blush” but …cassis? And lime? In a can of fizzy cider? REALLY?

A pasturised goats cheese from Hertfordshire, bought from Neal’s Yard Dairy.

Childwickbury always makes me think of the moon; it’s a round of pure white, incredibly young cheese. It’s damp and crumbly, an adolescent creature existing in some hinterland between fresh curd and a grown-up cheese.

In the mouth it’s both creamy and acidic – first off, the sweet, milkiness appears, and then it opens out into a huge bright zesty lemonish explosion, reminding me of really tart lemon curd. It sparkles, almost fizzes, in my mouth. There’s a tiny, hidden sniff of grass and herbs somewhere in here as well, lurking deep below the lemon.

Cheese-eating chum says it has a wonderfully fresh mouthfeel. In a fit of hypocrisy, I laugh at his using the word mouthfeel. But he’s right! This cheese is like fresh green grass and bright warm sunshine after a spring shower. It’s delicious, and refreshing, and incredibly cheerful, and it always makes me grin when I eat it. I’m grinning now just thinking about it.

(We made a lovely cheesecake from this once; cornmeal and oregano base, covered with a mixture of childwicksbury, lemon juice and icing sugar, and topped with a slice of sugared lemon. And it’s my number one top cheese for eating with figs.)

I spent ten minutes rooting through the bags of salad in Tesco last night, under some delusion that although the first 37 packets of Watercress, Rocket and Spinach that I found were obviously bruising and going that lovely, slimy translucent that green things do when kept underwater, so that a delicious compost aroma could accompany my poncy avocado salad, maybe the 38th would be fine. Inevitably, this delusion was crushed and I should’ve just bought the tiny, 80p box of pseudo-fancy organic, unwashed ‘field fresh’ rocket (PAYING MORE SO THAT THEY DO NOT WASH IT: I REST MY CASE, also salad in a box= cereal not condiment) but by that point I was upset, which is how I ended up with celery and biscuits and a slightly confused approach to my packed lunch today.

Are people buying this shit, though? I mean, are children being told that salad is something that should be sweated through polythene for a week and then belched into a ciabatta like a miniature ecological disaster? I realise I’m a middle class snob and that obviously being from the countryside has spoilered me as to the idea that vegetables might once have had an origin outside their hermetically sealed delivery membranes but is it too much to ask that my food isn’t going off before I’ve even accidentally left it at the back of the fridge for a fortnight?

The other question is, why are supermarkets trying to sell us silage? Tesco is the largest employer in the UK, it knows what it’s doing and in collaboration with Sainsburys and Morrisons doing the same, are we bedding in for the winter of our discontent etc. and being prepared for the composted mush that the airless metropolii of the future will feed us in polystyrene cups from squelching, chromed vending jets or are we being fed up to be put out to field when the machines take over? Moooo!