London’s Micros

A Beer Nut, a Bonobo and a busMy plane touched down in Heathrow bumpily at 11.20 in the morning as another disgruntled Aer Lingus pilot took out his frustrations on the tarmac. My mission for the day was to drink a pint in each of London’s seven brewpubs, and with the first opening its doors at noon I set off at speed through the tin tunnels of the airport.

Despite its size, London is rather poorly served for breweries. Of course there’s the legendary Fuller’s, and craft operations like Meantime in Greenwich, but nothing like what one would expect from Europe’s largest city and the capital of such a beery nation. My targets for the day are mostly part of a growing movement to buck this trend and bring highly localised beer back to the people of the city. With this in mind I reached the Tube and struck eastward towards London itself.

The Cock & HenAfter changing lines at Earl’s Court, I came to Fulham Broadway and the short walk to pub one: The Cock & Hen. This is a relative newcomer to brewing, having only set up this year. It’s a bright and airy boozer, with wood panelled walls and classically modern décor, lined on one side with leather banquettes and having lots of open space. All rather pleasant, though points off for toilet doors marked “Cocks” and “Hens”. Nasty.

Two beers are made on site: Bonobo and Weasel. I opted for the former and sat down with it at 12.20, only an hour since I landed. Bonobo, named after the pygmy chimp, is a fairly classic English bitter: copper coloured with rich warm malty flavours and a long sour/bitter finish. If there’s a criticism it’s that it’s too similar to some of the great English bitters, taking away the originality factor which I really enjoy in brewpub beer. Nevertheless, there’s no getting away from the fact that this is a fine and well-crafted ale. Glass drained, I headed back to the underground.

The Florence, and its resident houndFor pub two I had to transfer to the suburban rail network and head out past Battersea Power Station to the southern suburb of Herne Hill. The Florence is a sister house of The Cock & Hen, and similarly kitted out in a trendy yet understated manner. It was 1.40 on a brew day afternoon and a be-gloved craftsman was weighing out hops at the end of the bar. The brew kettle sat in an alcove nearby, emitting puffs of steam from behind a glass door. In all my years of brewpub attendance I don’t think I’d ever before witnessed a member of staff having to sweep up hops overspill from the bar floor. It really gives the impression that they’re serious about their beer.

Weighing out hopsBoth house beers were available here too, so I went for the other one: Weasel. This is a dark golden ale with scarcely any carbonation. The reason for all those hops is apparent from the aroma, and this is followed up by a sharp and zingy hoppy flavour. Weasel is a lively one.

The next stage of the quest, bringing me further east across south London, was the most complicated bit of the whole itinerary, so before leaving The Florence I refuelled with some fantastic Weasel-battered fish and chips. Then at 2.20 I was back on track for pub three.

Zero DegreesThree trains later and following a mild bout of confusion at London Bridge Station, I was in Blackheath and on my way to Zero Degrees, part of a small chain with other branches in Reading and Bristol. It’s one of those faux industrial brewpubs, all glass and chrome, painted brick, steel gantries and endless pipework. The contemporary jazz soundtrack makes it seem a place made for late Saturday nights and therefore a bit weird at 3.25 on a Wednesday afternoon. The only old-fashioned feature was a good old rant about mass-produced beer inscribed on the menu. You rarely see those these days.

From a choice of about six house beers I went for the Black Lager and was very impressed. It’s very black indeed, with a thick creamy head and a body fuller than any lager you’ve ever met. The taste is packed with sugary molasses flavours with burnt caramel overtones. It’s one to savour, and I did. Zero Degrees may be aiming for the fashionistas, but they seem to know a bit about making beer too. That said, I did taste their seasonal before leaving and found it a bit lacklustre, though it is the best pomegranate wheat beer I’ve ever had.

Brew WharfA short hop brought me back to London Bridge, round the corner from which is Borough Market and pub four: Brew Wharf. This is attached to the “wine-tasting attraction” Vinopolis, and is housed in a series of vast brick-vaulted cellars. At £3.20 a pint I had no compunction about asking to try both the house beers, before settling on a pint of Wharf Trader. At 3.9% ABV it’s slightly lighter than Wharf Best, but is in a whole different taste category. Cloudy orange Wharf Trader is an outrageous hops bomb, with the sort of teeth-cleaning bitterness that’s sharp enough to take the roof of your mouth off. An absolute powerhouse of a beer.

It's not the length of your wand that countsWith a vast array of seating largely to myself, I sat next to the glass screen separating the bar from the brewery. It was brew day here too, and after a few minutes watching the two lads at work, the foreman beckoned me to come in. Brewmaster Alex explained that they were dry-hopping their Wharf Rebel bitter, to have a special version Alex gives it some hopsready for their October festival. After half-filling the 36-pint casks, they used rolled-up paper placemats to funnel the leaf hops in, then a shake, and the other half of the beer. Later I chatted to Iain, Brew Wharf’s brewer/manager. It seems that they are very much playing second fiddle to Vinopolis and that many of the customers are only interested in wine. However, this appears to be allowing them a sizeable degree of freedom to make interesting beers without interference from the suits upstairs.

The HorseshoeA long Tube journey lay between me and pub five and I had just hit the full force of rush hour. So it was a literal breath of fresh air when I emerged into the twilight in Hampstead. Here, McLaughlin’s Brewery operates out of The Horseshoe pub. It’s another modern and understated bar, with long tables and stacking chairs making for an almost canteen-like ambiance. It was 5.50, the rain was starting, so obviously I called for a pint of McLaughlin’s Hampstead Summer. This is a refreshing golden ale, with a lightly hoppy flavour. Not too challenging, but streets ahead of any of the rather drab summer ales made by the bigger brewers. It would have been nice to chill a bit longer in The Horseshoe and watch the evening gear up. It’s the sort of place you’d love to have as your local, even without the assumption that you need to be a billionaire to live in Hampstead. However, the end of my mission was in sight and I headed to the West End.

I mentioned above that these new brewpubs are aimed at bringing quality beer to local drinkers of taste. There are exceptions to every rule, however, and so I had designated the two long-established city centre microbreweries to the end of my crawl, by which time I knew I’d be rather less fussy about what I was drinking and where. Bünker in Covent Garden was pub six, and the only one I’d previously visited. It’s a large subterranean drinking barn with thumping music and an even louder clientele. At 6.45 it was crammed, and when I turned from the bar with my pint of Soho Red, squinting for somewhere to sit, I noticed open doors leading to light, air and empty tables. A beer garden, I thought: I’m saved. On closer inspection the area proved to be a food court or similar belonging to the shopping centre next door, but it was right outside the Bünker doors and I figured that the pub was one of the establishments that shared the space.

Banned from the Bünker My pint was rather better than I expected. Soho Red is quite a thick and malty ale, reminding me a little of Bishops Finger. As I contemplated this, a member of Bünker staff came out and deftly closed and locked the doors leading in to the pub. So there I was, alone in the basement of a silent shopping centre, sipping a pint and looking for all the world like I’d come in from the street with it. The sounds of revellery were still coming through the doors so I had no intention of trying to find my way back in. Frankly, I reckon I dodged a bullet. Finishing up, I left just as the shopping centre caretaker was closing over the doors to the street.

It didn’t take too long to reach the other brewpub of ill-repute in central London: Mash. However, it was there at the door of pub seven that my quest ended as Mash was closed. Through the glass doors I could see it was still furnished, with high-concept plastic furniture and fittings. The following afternoon there was still no sign of life so my guess is that Mash has taken minimalist pub design to a new level of cool by barring customers from cluttering up the place.

And there you have it: the six functioning brewpubs of London in one day. My overall impression is that there’s a lot of enthusiasm among the brewers for what they’re doing, and since they’re mostly new arrivals to the scene I truly hope that the momentum they’ve built up will be carried through into the future. London is definitely the better for it.

I await now the news that I missed the Crab & Spigot brewpub in Chislehurst, at which point I will nominate the messenger to do the whole tour properly themselves. Start at Fulham and work east; I’ll be at home.

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