December: London's Brewing Exports, No-Alc Ale on Stage & The Capital's Most Festive Boozers
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A London Education
London is a huge generator of brewing talent. Hundreds of enthusiastic young people have come to the city over the past dozen years to find work at one of the city’s 100+ breweries - and, London being London, lots have then left, taking what they’ve learned. They’ve then set up their own breweries, or have become very senior in the breweries they work for.
The result of that is that London has a sizable, largely unacknowledged influence on the world of modern brewing. I wanted to find out more (What does that influence look like? What impact has London had on these brewers?), so I contacted five ex-Londoners who are thriving elsewhere, and asked them a handful of questions. They are:
Chris Tuominen (formerly Beavertown, Camden Town and Two Tribes), Brewery Supervisor for Indie Alehouse in Toronto
Emma McIntosh (The Kernel), co-owner of Newbarns in Edinburgh
James Rylance (The Kernel, Beavertown and Redchurch), co-owner of Ideal Day Family Brewery in Cornwall
Renn Blackman (Camden Town), owner of Blackman’s Brewery in Torquay, Victoria, Australia
Tiago Falcone (Beavertown), in charge of Lambic and Gueuze production at Brussels Beer Project
(Answers have been edited for brevity, but I have made every effort to retain the original meaning)
What was it like brewing in London when you came here?
EM: (pictured below) Oh my gosh it was fun! Coming from where I lived in Scotland, at the time where Brewdog was really the only exciting thing going on, London was wild. With The Kernel, I was lucky enough to work somewhere really familial: we’d cycle to Hop Burns and Black for Augustiners on a Wednesday after work, followed by pizza and a long cycle home to Hackney.
RB: I worked at Camden between 2010 and 2012. The London brewing scene was amazing: when I first arrived new-age cask beer was popular … I worked with a great mix of brewers from everywhere: London brewers, Irish, Americans and other Aussies.
TF: In 2013 the scene was just about to start booming. It felt like a grassroots movement, [there were] new breweries popping up everywhere, there was a sense of community and cooperation.
CT: When I joined the London brewing scene it was 2014 and Beavertown had just moved to Tottenham Hale. It was the Wild West, a lot of the beers made in the city were quite extreme and out there. Everyone knew everyone and there was a sense that “we're all in this together”.
JR: (above) I spent all of my twenties in London and it was brilliant, especially at the start. Everything was new and exciting, we were all young and working it out as we went along - especially that original crew at Beavertown. Everyone’s gone onto brilliant things. We were in the right place at the right time and [we] rode the chaos of it all.
How do you think London influenced you as a brewer? What did you learn here?
JR: The brewers in East London were a tight bunch. There was zero competition, everyone was super open to sharing ideas and excitement about beers. Friday after work in the Cock Tavern you couldn't move for brewers! I still brew like those early days at the Kernel: I make quite different styles now, but they are made in the same spirit.
EM: Evin’s way of running a business has stayed with me. It’s hard to put into words, but if you’ve met him and been to the brewery then you’ll know what I mean. The people are what makes a business successful, so my main priority is to make sure our staff have what they need to feel safe and happy.
CT: (above) London influenced me immensely. When I came I was fresh out of the fine-dining scene in Finland, an eager homebrewer who was desperate to turn pro. I gained my IBD in London, I became a certified beer judge, I got to brew with some of the best brewers in the world and I got to express my creative side. I learned everything I know about brewing in London. I owe my brewing career to the city and for that I'm grateful.
EM: I learned that it’s pretty easy to make beer but to make really good beer then you need to seriously care about what you’re doing. To make new beers all the time is a safe route, but to continuously brew the same beers over and over and focus on how to improve them each time, that’s when you end up nailing it. That’s something I learned from our dearest pal Dominic Driscoll at Thornbridge in Bakewell.
TF: (above) I was working with people from so many nationalities and with so many talents. From some I learned the technical aspects; others inspired me with their creativity; some helped me face the challenges of working in a company that needed to grow fast.
RB: (below) It definitely influenced me. Drinking cask ale in proper English pubs - The Southampton Arms was my favourite - the flavours and experiences, that was so amazing!
I learnt a lot about beer freshness and its importance. I learnt how to make lots of quality beer at Camden, that place was sooo busy! It really made you an efficient brewer that could do many jobs at once. [Being involved at Camden] was inspirational for me to go on and start my own brand.
TF: I can't forget to mention the importance of collaboration brews: the exchange and sharing of knowledge, ideas, advice, mistakes, is what makes us grow as a community. At Beavertown I was lucky to host and be hosted by brewers from all over the world.
Why did you come to London - and why did you leave? Is there anything you miss/don’t miss?
RB: I came to London, like many Aussies, for travel and work. I’d been a brewer for years in Australia so I wanted to hone my skills and travel at the same time: London made a lot of sense with its esteemed brewing heritage. I left when my working holiday visa was up.
CT: I came to London for the adventure and to become a professional brewer. I left to further my career - and, because of what happened with Brexit and Covid, London wasn't the same. It became increasingly unsustainable with rents on the rise and wages stagnant. I also saw a lot of my fellow expat friends move and I felt that after 8 years I needed a change too, and Toronto was the perfect destination.
EM: In 2012 my other half, Gordon (both pictured above), and I moved to London as he was starting a PhD, and I really didn’t know what to do with myself. I was into beer, so I got a job at Craft Beer Co. After wanting to get out of bar work, I got in touch with Toby and Evin at The Kernel to see if there were any opportunities. I still remember getting the call from Evin to say that I’d got the job and that even though I had zero experience, if I cared enough and put in the effort then I’d be fine. Oh but I had to like cheese and coffee ... thankfully I was very much able to tick those boxes!
TF: (below, during the first brew of Beavertown Bloody 'Ell in 2014) I was living in Rome and was thirsty for brewing again. London seemed like the right place for brewing opportunities at the time. I already had 2 years experience brewing back home in Brazil, but the intermezzo in Italy was a moment to rethink what I wanted in life. So I left Rome on a bicycle and crossed Europe, visiting breweries, ending up under Big Ben.
The trip left me with a taste for more cycling adventures and I tried to combine my brewing career with that. That's how I decided it was time to leave the city: on the bicycle again, to cycle around the world working in breweries. I also felt that my "cycle" in London was coming to an end: in 4 years, Beavertown Brewery had grown a lot and I did too. There was so much more to see out there in the world.
JR: I grew up on a farm in rural Shropshire, so London was always a shining, mess of buzzing life: I'd get off the train at Euston as a teenager and feel the whole place fizzing with life. As soon as school was over I headed for art school in London; a couple of years in, I met Evin at the Kernel and my life's path was set. It was a great place to do your 20s, at the start it was just about affordable. But after over a decade we were looking to the future, to settling down, having kids. We'd done our time and were finding less joy in city life. I'm a country boy at heart.
EM: Gordon and I left London in September 2019 to move back up to Scotland to open Newbarns. It had always been something we wanted to do, but we never really felt the pressure of when to do it. That was until Gordon found our brew kit online in 2018, snapped it up and stored it until we found a space. In 2019 we found our site in Leith. The viewing was done via Facetime as we were still in London, and as soon as we saw it we knew we had to go for it.
If he hadn’t found that brew kit, who knows? We’d probably still be living in London, working in Bermondsey at The Kernel. We loved it there. It was my home away from home. And we loved London a lot more than we thought we would. I found it so hard to leave. I have friends for life who live in London and they’re what I miss the most.
JR: I miss the food so, so much! We used to live in Walthamstow and you could walk and get three different provincial styles of Chinese food. Not fancy reinterpretation, just people from that place cooking food they grew up with to earn a living. We get all the standard stuff here: great coffee, sourdough bread, posh cheese. It's the diversity and the squeezing together that gives London a buzz - that fizz I first felt getting off at Euston as a teenager when my heart opened.
TF: I miss the pubs. Pubs are London at its best: I loved the atmosphere, the cosiness, it's where you know you'll meet people again. I don't miss the busy life though! Living in Ghent now, father of twins, I'm in a different situation than when I was in my late twenties. Slower is better now!
CT: (below) I do miss London. I miss Tufnell Park, I miss the friends that are still there, I miss the Southampton Arms, I miss cask beer and I miss going to watch Tottenham or Clapton CFC on the weekends. I don't miss the insane pace of the city and the long working hours, I don't miss the extortionate rent and I don't miss the wet winter weather! But London will always be a special place for me.
When I left London 2 years ago, the brewing scene was still vibrant, creative and exciting. There really is no place like London when it comes to brewing.
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Taproom Tip
Do you spend a lot of time in London brewery taprooms? Then Beer Passport could be for you. The 2024 edition has just been launched, offering discounts (e.g. buy one get one free) at more than 70 taprooms from Blackheath to Windsor. It costs £29.95.
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Theatre of The Pour
What do actors on stage or screen drink when they’re pretending it’s alcohol? The answer - for those actors in the Choir of Man, currently at the Arts Theatre in Covent Garden - is alcohol-free beer, supplied by Big Drop since the start of this month.
“The Choir of Man is not all about the alcohol - in fact, if anything, we spend more time talking and singing than we do drinking,” says Choir of Man co-creator and director Nic Doodson. “It’s nice to have a beer in your hand when you’re talking to a mate - but it doesn’t have to mean you get drunk … you’re more often your best self when you’re fully in the room.”
The play, set in a pub called The Jungle, features (so the press release says) “nine guys combining beautiful harmonies and foot-stomping singalongs with first-rate tap dance and poetic meditations on the power of community”. There are plans to offer audience members a chance to drink alcoholic and non-alcoholic beer at the on-stage bar during the pre-show, and at the Arts Theatre bar, in the New Year.
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All Shook Up
This week, I wrote about Grace Land and their new brewery, Saint Monday, for Pellicle. You can read it here.
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Park Life
Kingston’s Park Brewery is opening a new venue, Park Brewery & Kitchen, in the spring next year. Described by brewery co-owner Frankie Kearns as “café by day, small plates, top wines and great local beer in the evening,” it'll be at 157 Park Road, handy for Richmond Park.
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Two Pubs, One City
Churchill Arms, W8; Dog & Bell, SE8
The Churchill Arms, West London’s most well-dressed pub, has long had the Christmas pub title sewn up. “The Most Christmassy Pub In London Has Switched On Their Iconic Light Display,” gushed secretldn earlier this month. “London’s most festive pub is switching on its Christmas Lights”, Time Out observed in 2020. For The Guardian, The Churchill is “Christmas, basically: silly but worth it. The pub looks glorious, a box of simple shining joy.” The pub’s own website calls it “London’s most Christmassy pub”.
But I’m a fearless investigative reporter, and this sort of fluff isn’t good enough. Is it really London’s most Christmassy pub? On an awful dreich day earlier this week, I went to find out.
Walking the short stretch from Notting Hill Gate station to the pub is a dispiriting experience. This is a posh, tourist-heavy bit of West London and so it has more than its fair share of amblers, drifting slowly along without, apparently, a care in the world - even though it’s raining. As I approach the pub, I break into a jog to circumnavigate a group of elderly baseball-capped Americans, who are looking for The Churchill Arms.
“There it is!” one exclaims as the pub’s exterior comes into view.
And what an exterior it is. It’s absolutely covered with Christmas trees, each of them festooned with hundreds of Xmas lights - and that’s not all. There are Christmas flags, an illuminated HO HO HO sign (my favourite bit), a small post-box for ‘Letters to Santa’, wreaths aplenty, an illuminated Merry Christmas sign, and lots more. I bet it looks remarkable in the dark, as opposed to through a thin mist of rain on a grey, grey day.
(The only way it could be more festive would be if Churchill on the pub sign were donning an Xmas hat. Something to consider for next year, Fuller’s folk).
Inside is just as delightful - although four young Italian women are blocking the way, looking baffled, apparently unaware of the conventions that govern seating in pubs. “It’s all self-seating,” says the woman behind the bar flatly, the first of half-a-dozen times in the next half an hour.
There’s an old English geezer at the bar, asking for a pint of Abbot, a beer made by Greene King and therefore not sold here. I suggest ESB might be a decent replacement, but his pals want London Pride (£5.75; he’s on the lime and soda). A controversial but good choice. It’s excellent in all the key ways: flavour, condition, appearance. The sort of beer that can disappear very quickly.
It’s just after 3pm, and most seats are taken. I lean on the bar. Lots of London Pride is being served: more than Guinness, I note with a wryly raised eyebrow (Diageo won’t like it, but as I said - fearless). A lot of the tourists, surely, have come here to try cask ale, and they won’t be disappointed, which is no certainty in our fair city. One of the Italian girls comes to the bar (“Guinness, large one”) followed by a young German, who asks for Helles and Jameson and gets Amstel and Bushmills.
I notice an empty bench by the main door, and occupy it for a better view of the decoration. There’s all sorts of bollocks hanging from the ceiling, plus Churchill paraphernalia, generic Irish and British stuff, and Guinness marketing. On top, there are lots of Christmas decorations. It all adds up to an atmosphere of extreme exuberance.
In terms of tourist pubs, you could do a lot worse. The beer is good, the atmosphere is great, and everything smells nice courtesy of the Thai restaurant at the back. A gentle hubbub, the sound of contentment, reigns. Everyone is happy, in fact, apart from a middle-aged couple directly in front of me. They’ve got their arms crossed, they’re not talking, they’re leaning back in their seats, they’re purse-lipped. I’m not a body language expert, but it doesn’t look good!
Then, all of a sudden, the froideur breaks as a small dog wearing a snazzy jacket is led past their table. The grumpy couple can’t help but react: the woman, in one of the few bits I can hear, observes that “Dogs are such social animals,” in the most delightful American Southern drawl.
She’s right. Dogs are social creatures, and none is more social than The Dog and Bell (‘Dog’, locally) in Deptford. It’s a long way from Notting Hill - an hour by public transport, including 15 minutes waiting for a train at London’s most delightful but also cold station, Blackfriars.
By the time I get to the Dog I’m keen to be inside, but for journalistic reasons I must inspect the Xmas decorations in the street outside. There’s a huge Christmas tree, a massive Santa in his massive sleigh, and hundreds of lights spelling out “Merry Christmas” on the wall opposite, plus plenty besides. It’s a bravura effort; Churchillian, even.
I was planning to have another Pride here, but Iron Pier’s delightful Cast Iron Stout is available (£4.90) so I have that instead (it’s a touch over-vented, a recurrent problem at the Dog; perhaps the only one in a pub that otherwise touches perfection). The best seat in the house - inside the door on the left, dark-green banquettes and a great view of the bar - is untaken. It’s not as busy as at The Churchill, and the voices are all English or Irish, but it shares that key quality: a sense of carefree happiness, of reality postponed.
Across the way is a family - grandparents, daughter and two kids (“Tell grandad what colour the loos are … Millwall blue aren’t they?”) - while the regulars are seated at the bar in the new bit of the pub, chiselled out of the next-door building a few years back. There are hops above the bar, alongside copious Christmas decorations - sliced oranges, pine cones, pine leaves - hanging thick and lustrous from the walls and ceilings.
It’s no coincidence, I think, that the landlord here, Seamus O’Neill, is Irish, as was the man who made The Churchill Arms such an icon (Gerry O’Brien). Both pubs blend the Irish capacity for hospitality with the best of the English pub in a very satisfying, harmonious way.
That’s all very well, I hear you chunter, but which is the best Christmas pub? Let’s look at the scorecard. Both have magnificently festive exteriors, and both are a cosy delight to be in. The cask ale is better at The Churchill, but The Dog and Bell boasts a special Xmas menu containing Pigs in Blankets, Breaded Brie and an Xmas Dinner - so, although it loses points for using cranberry sauce, it’s just ahead, by a (Dog’s) nose. Ring out the Bells.
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London Beer City is written by journalist Will Hawkes. Feel free to contact me on londonbeercity@gmail.com. If you like what you’ve read, please share it with your friends; if you’ve been forwarded this email and enjoyed it, you can sign up here. Unsubscribe here. Support LBC here. Thanks for reading!