IN BEER drinking terms in this city last week it was Christmas time all over again.
Why? Because we were awash with beer festivals, not only the main one down in the crypt at Paddy's wigwam but the supplementals including those held at the Ship and Mitre on Dale Street, the Augustus John, off Brownlow Hill, and the Lion Tavern on Tithebarn Street.
Unfortunately, the Pub Column couldn't get to them all, the Wigwam's opening Thursday session being quite enough for tickling a semi-pickled liver, thanks very much.
The taste buds had already been primed the night before with a special session in the cool, cavernous, but otherwise empty, crypt organised by festival instigators, the Liverpool and Districts branch of CAMRA.
A couple of tables of invited guests including Lady Penelope of Pensby, the Boy Shennan from the Echo and Yours Truly were asked to choose the most outstanding ales from a number of unnamed golden and best bitters of the North West.
The results were a triumph for the Davids over the Goliaths of the brewing industry with top spots in both categories going to relatively tiny home grown breweries.
The best golden was judged to be Loweswater Gold whose home is the Kirk Style Hotel in the Lake District and the best bitter, Gypsy's Kiss, was created by the “ten gallon” WC brewery situated just outside Chester.
It put us all in the mood for the big one the following evening which, like every before it, has been a testimonial to what can be achieved by entirely voluntary labours of love from those involved.
This was recognised as such during the opening speech by Steve Crawley the Managing Director of this year's sponsors, the Edinburgh-based Caledonian Brewery.
Being Merseyside born and bred, a Red and an Old Birkonian to boot, you could almost feel the pride swelling in his chest when he declared from the stage: “Liverpool pubs are something special – I know having spent quite a bit of time in them myself. And this is a fantastic event organised by fantastic organisers.”
The assembled raised a glass to these sentiments and then duly processed to drink the place dry of its 200-plus different real ales and ciders over the next three days. This was literally achieved by last orders on Saturday night when only a couple of casks remained according to the festival’s major domo Steve Downing.
Highlights for the Pub Column included a first sup of Liverpool Passage To India IPA, the festival special brewed by the most excellent Stan Shaw, who is based at the Baltic Fleet, down on the Mersey waterfront. A month or so before I’d been invited to help Stan in its creation, if stirring his mash tun for two minutes could be deserving of any credit whatsoever.
The potent 8% brew proved to be as cheering and feisty as The Man himself.
Another highlight was the opportunity to use the first night of the festival to meet my adoring public with a signing of the book wot I wrote, The Great Liverpool Pub Crawl.
Supported by my sales team of elves, Lady P and Our Kev, I signed an astonishing – lucky for some – 13 copies of the tome. It also brought forth an opportunity to get a grass roots level opinion of what certain people thought of it.
“You know what I think?” said one, the Pub Column all ears with anticipation of words of praise. "I think you're a gob----e"
Ah well, you can't win em all.
