Showing posts with label British. Show all posts
Showing posts with label British. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

The Floating Bridge Inn



Do you like Brit pubs as much as I do?  Wait a sec…’like’ is too tame a word…crave!  The murmur of voices.  Glistening pint glasses of dark amber.  A row of hand pumps that tells you this is the place for traditional ale.  None of that fizzy stuff for a true pub lover such as you and I.  Did I speak too quickly?  What?  You’ve never been inside a Brit pub???  Good god, man!  Are you old enough to drink?  Have you completely missed the sublime pleasure of relaxing in a pub, pint in hand, and your troubles floating away like the evening mist?



You may have been listening to all those old saws about Brit beer being warm, flat, et-freaking-cetera.  Ah, so that’s the problem.  Probably think the food is bad, too.

Wander with me inside a riverside pub in Dartmouth, Devon, England.  The Floating Bridge Inn.  What’s in a name?  In this case, the name tells you the pub is parked nearly on the riverbank, right beside the Dartmouth-Kingswear Floating Dock, a vehicular cable ferry that crosses the River Dart.  Cars roll on and off all day. 

Let’s go inside the big white pub, which dates to the 19th Century, or on a sunny day we can sit outside and soak up some vitamin D-3.

The bar area has a lighter touch than most, with a nautical air.  They serve DoomBar, a local brew and one of my favorite Brit beers. But in this case, I didn’t come to The Floating Bridge for the beer.  Shocking, I know.  But, their kitchen shines like a star in the hungry night.  And if you don’t fancy a pint with your lunch or supper, they offer a superb wine selection.

Now to settle a few scores.  Brit beer is not served warm.  They keep the barrels in the cellar and hand pump it to your glass, meaning it’s usually about 50-60ºF.  The beer is top fermented in the keg, meaning there’s only natural fermentation and traditional ale is not fizzy.  Lots of flavor, much of which would be lost if the beer were to be served icy. Learn all the details at:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beer_in_England

I often say English beer is a different beverage from American/German style, bottom fermented beer.  It’s almost like comparing tea and coffee. 

Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s let our eyes wander the menu and see what’s for supper.  Matter of fact, let’s make your mouth water:  Belly Pork with mushrooms, in a brandy cream.  Mushroom, walnut, and goat cheese tart on mixed leaves.  Plowman’s with English cheddar.

Pork Belly doesn’t sound appetizing?  Boy, are you wrong!  This is the most tender pork you’ve ever eaten, with a thin layer of crisped fat riding on top.  The sauce is out of this world and the dish comes with creamy potatoes.

Pork Belly


Never tasted anything to compare with the goat cheese tart!  Succulent flavors melded to lip-smacking goodness. The combination is so perfect that you find yourself mumbling about goat cheese and the soft, dark sauce that permeates the whole dish.



And the plowman’s platter:  Traditionally served at midday, but equally grand in the evening. Lots of subtleties on the tongue. Still, it has a texture similar to what you’re used to.  The flavor will make you tell yourself, “Just one more bite,” right after you’ve already told yourself, “Just one more bite.”  Note the dark, pickle relish, with its combination of sweet and tart.  Goes well with the cheese.



Notice that the English cheddar is not a bright yellow?  That’s because the Brits don’t add coloring to their naturally aged cheddar.  Has a mellow, more rounded, less industrial flavor than it’s U.S. cousin. 

No need to stop here.  Might as well have dessert.  Try the crusty bread pudding with a scoop of the famous Devon clotted cream.  Or perhaps some apple crumble, with vanilla cream sauce.  Either way, you can’t go wrong and either way, you’re going to need a long, postprandial perambulation.   Been waiting a long time to use those words, meaning an after supper walk!

Apple Crumble with Vanilla Cream

Bread Pudding and Clotted Cream


And, what a walk it will be in the fading sunlight, along the waterfront, with boats of every description floating on their idle reflections in the River Dart.



Visit The Floating Bridge Inn once and you’ll come back, for excellent beer in the bright sunshine, or a tidy supper in the lull of the evening.



Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Down Tha Local – a tasty British institution

The Salisbury - a Victorian Pub


The Nut Tree - smallest pub in England  
fish and chips



Pubs are still the great equalizer in Britain.  Working blokes and financiers, who fancy a pint, rub shoulders in what has always been a sharpened axe to the English barriers of class, the Pub.

The first time I drank Brit beer, in decades past, I’d been warned with the standard poppycock.  “They drink their beer flat and warm.  Terrible stuff!”

Yeah, it’s terrible to sit your bottom down in an historic and infinitely comfortable place, warm yourself at a fire while sipping a bit of liquid history and chatting with the locals.

Expecting something akin to warm spit?  Got news for ye.  First, let’s get some things straight.  Brit beer is not served warm. They keep their kegs in the cellar, with a temperature of around 50ºF (10ºC).   That’s not going to get frost on your fingernails, but it’s not exactly bikini warm.  Secondly, Brit beer is brewed with top acting yeast, rather than American and European bottom feeding yeast.  What’s up with that?  Less natural carbonation remains in the beer.  I’m not going to go into malts and hops and how many monks can dance on the head of a barrel.  You can read about it yourself, well into the night.

When I say historic, what do I mean? I’ll give you a quick glimpse. The Mayflower Pub sits next to the dock where tradition has it that ‘the’ Mayflower sailed for Southampton and on to the new world.

Then there’s The Grenadier, a club for the Duke of Wellington (of Waterloo fame) and his regiment. 

Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese has direct ties to Dr. Samuel Johnson, Dickens, Wilde, and Yeats, among others.

Blackfriar Pub, dating to 1905 and built on the site of a Dominican friary.  This architecture is simply outstanding.  All marble, inside and out.

Back to beer.  But, let’s stop calling Brit beer, ‘beer’, and call it what it is, ale.  Playing with linguists?  I don’t think so.  Ale has a different, heavier flavor and generally a darker color.  Even Bass Pale Ale has a deep amber glow.  In fact, to my well-trained taste buds, ale is a different beverage all together.  Comparing Brit ale and American beer is like comparing coffee and tea.  Both are warm beverages served in cups, but after that…

Time to cut the idle chatter and race into a pub.  Pub is short for Public House, meaning anyone 18 or older, with British Pounds and pennies, can walk in and order up.  I do urge one word of caution, order only traditional ales.  The rest are fizzy crap. Traditional ales are the ones the cute bar maid pumps when she pulls on one of the array of long wooden handles.  Check the bottom of the pull and you’ll see the name of the ale and the percentage of alcohol.  For my money, the lower the alcohol content, the smoother the brew.

When I first caught on that English pubs were God’s way of rewarding lechery and sloth, way back in the 1970s, I purchased a thin book called CAMRA’s Guide to Real Ale.  It had a sparse list of pubs around England that offered traditional ales.  CAMRA, the Campaign for Real Ale, arose in the 1970s as a response to so many big brewers doing things the easy way and adding large squirts of carbon dioxide, to weaker and weaker cousins of what used to be.  A hue and cry (both of them at once, apparently) rose up from the throats of those in every Middlesex village and farm.  “Save our ale!”

The happy result is that traditional ale is now available in nearly every pub and the CAMRA Guide to Real Ale has expanded to the thickness of the London Telephone Directory.  But, alas, every sunny day has a lingering black cloud.  British pubs are disappearing at the rate of some 50 per day.  Why might that be?  Prices.  The cost of a pint has doubled in the past decade, mostly due to rising taxes on alcohol.  Without being political, there does seem to be a direct relationship between people having less money to spend and people spending less money.  It’s not just the tax on beer, but also the taxes on the pub businesses.  The ban on smoking has also taken its toll.

Still, there are some 57,000 pubs left, serving 2500 varieties of brew from about 500 brewers.  Here are some general styles you can find, all of them richly flavored:

Bitter – lighter amber colored.  Light head.  Usual alcohol content is about 4.6%.
Mild – definitely darker.  Creamy head.  Alcohol closer to 4.0% or a tad below.
Stout – Guinness is the most popular brand.  Darker body, with a thick, creamy head.  It’s said you can write your name in the foam and it’ll be on the bottom of the glass when you finish your stout.

Those are very general terms and brews vary widely.  Do what I do.  Forget all those tales of what other people think Brit ale is.  The detractors are flat wrong and not even warm.  Experiment.  Try a half pint of this or that.  You won’t be sorry.  If you’re lucky you may even find a pub that brews it’s own.  Now, that’ a place worth spending some time.

"If you took a guy from the 10th Century and brought him forward in time, the only things he would recognize in the world today are churches and pubs," said Peter Brown, the author of "Man Walks Into a Pub," a history of pubs and beer.







Inside Blackfriar Pub 




















Entry to the Bunch of Grapes