About Me

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Manchester, United Kingdom
Tyson is a beer hound and cheese addict living in the beery metropolis paradise known as Manchester
If the people are buying tears, I'll be rich someday, Ma

Saturday, 19 July 2008

Night of the Living Dead

Interesting concept at the Crescent. A “There Isn’t a beer festival as originally planned,” beer festival. Basically, beers were made available from the cellar to complement the choice from the bar. Meaning a choice of about 22 beers-not bad for a wet Friday night.

I kicked off with York Peaches & Cream (3.9%) which was golden and pretty bland, with only a little fruit sweetness to distinguish it. Fearing the worst, I got Leyden Time & Tide (4.4%) out of the way next. Sure enough, this dark beer didn’t disappoint. Completely one-dimensional with the usual unpleasant Leyden tang. Talking of dodgy breweries, I was interested in trying Bazens Old Punch Ale as I had sampled it last week at the Castlefield Hotel. It was in a lot better nick in the Crescent and had lost some of that strange sharpness, but was still no great shakes.

3B’s Bee-jing (3.9%) was, surprise, surprise a sweet honey beer. Can’t see the point in them myself. Of the others tried, the best dark beer was probably Hornbeam Coral Stout (4.5%) which had plenty of flavour. Wentworth Rampant Gryphon (6.2%) was interesting. An unassuming amber beer, it was well balanced and hid its strength well. Yet again, though, the best beers were from proven breweries. Phoenix Ged’s Beer (4.5%) had plenty of hops but was surpassed by its stablemate, Irwell Gold (4.1%) which had a very pronounced bitter-hop kick and a nice dry finish. Close call between that and Leeds Samba (3.7%), which had a big, zesty, citrus kick to it.

The bus ride into the city centre was an adventure in itself. Scallies, the drunk, the soon-to-be-clubbing, all were getting out of Salford as fast the bus would allow them. Some entrepreneur was offering single ciggies for £2 to the back seat brigade, whilst one lass was arguing whether she was a slut or not. To prove the point she lowered her top and gave the lads at the back a flash of her assets. I never thought I would ever say this, but I was actually thinking put em’ away, luv. Not a pretty sight, believe me.

In the centre a quick toilet stop at the English Lounge revealed no cask, but a sign offering a bucket of beer for a £10. Full marks to the guy stood outside in a black sleeveless top, very tight white trousers, and a jaunty beret. Very circa 1970’s Shaft. Not many would have the balls to wear that on a dark, wet night in Manchester, but judging by the transparency of his crotch, he did.

Back on the tram to Bury, where more oddities abounded, and then a quickie in the Trackside. Robinsons Olympic Gold was obviously very green as it lacked any flavour whatsoever. Then it was last bus time and a nightcap of Golden Pippin in the Towler.

1 comment:

Tandleman said...

Another classy night in that beer nirvana that is Manchester (and Salford). I had a better experience on that same bus route on Thursday, though it is wise not to catch anyone's eye! I had to content myself with just two pints. A fairly good Manchester Bitter and an even better Phoenix Midsummer Madness. Pity I had to drive. I could have drunk a few more of Tony's finest.