A trip to the West Dulwich mail sorting office to collect a package is always a good excuse to stop by The Alleyn’s Head, a pleasant enough local pub with a traditional but regularly changing guest cask lineup.

Since the sorting office is only open in the morning, we’ve reached the pub at a scandalously early hour, so perhaps something on the sessionable side is called for. Fortunately, there on the pumps is another of the many English Bitters we need. At an improbably reasonable £2.95 a pint (£2.49 all day Mondays) it won’t break the bank either.

Brakspear Bitter hails from somewhere in Oxfordshire, and comes to us courtesy of the same folks who brew that rather nice Brakspear Triple we enjoyed back in this blog’s infancy (last year).

It’s a fairly standard colour for a Bitter, in other words brown, if a little darker than some examples of the style. There’s a smallish cream coloured head that clings to the glass in an appealing fashion.

Well, it’s certainly bitter. There’s an unmissable citrus tang all the way from front to back. There are some juicy underlying malts and a tiny hint of butterscotch sweetness, but it’s that sharp bitterness that gets the attention.

In fact it’s hard to taste much else unless you concentrate quite hard. It’s not unpleasant though, and in fact is quite moreish. There’s no doubt that the Brakspear Bitter is in impeccable nick today, so I had a second pint. At that reasonable a price, it would seem rude not to.

Facts and Figures

For the second of the two Adnams beers that we need to try, let’s seek out an actual Adnams pub. In fact, it’s terribly convenient that the sizeable Suffolk-based brewery happen to have one, and it is just the one, right here in London.

And so to the Bridge House on the southern slopes of Tower Bridge. As an Adnams pub, you’d expect their flagship Southwold Bitter to be in good condition here. You’d also expect your pint to be reasonably close to containing a pint, and to be served in less than 10 minutes if you’re the only customer waiting at the bar. But you might well be disappointed.

Stingy measures and disinterested service aside, the Southwold Bitter is a handsome enough beer, being a deep reddish copper colour with smooth off-white head, albeit one that fades quickly.

It’s relatively full bodied and indeed full flavoured for an “ordinary”, and in fact reminds me more of a Best Bitter. Still, I guess the sober 3.7% payload would preclude that particular classification.

Beyond that, it’s a Bitter, and you already know what it tastes like. There’s very little to distinguish the Southwold Bitter from any other example of the style that you might come across, and so I’m struggling to come up with colourful adjectives to describe it. It doesn’t help that it’s a style of beer that doesn’t tend to be particularly exciting in the first place.

Still, it’s in good condition here, and it was entirely drinkable and seemed to go down quickly enough. Which was convenient as it allowed me to press on to the Draft House just down the road for a rather more interesting selection of beers.

Facts and Figures

Harveys Sussex Best is one of those beers that are tremendously easy to find all over London. It’s also a beer that, like many bitters, unless kept well and served in top notch condition, can be a little underwhelming. Indeed, despite its ubiquity, I don’t think I’ve ever had a truly good pint.

Let’s find out just how good this beer can be by making our way to one of only two Harveys pubs in London, and one I’ve never visited before, the rather wonderful Royal Oak in Tabard Street.

It’s a handsome enough pub, that’s for sure. A traditional, two room Victorian street corner pub tucked away not far from the hustle and bustle of London Bridge. The interior doesn’t appear to have changed in a good century or so. And why would it.

Even early doors, there’s an eclectic yet pleasingly reassuring mix of customers: the familiar regulars studying the racing form in the Sun over a half of Mild, a couple of card-wielding CAMRA gents in actual sandals, and a young family enjoying a hearty feed. Everyone seems to be on first name terms.

And of course there’s a nerdy beer blogger sat awkwardly in the corner pretending to do the cryptic and waving a cameraphone at anything that moves. Pint of Best please, chief.

Harveys Sussex Best is a lovely bronze colour, with a light, rocky tan head. It’s in impeccable condition here, of course, and it’s a different beer to the few pints I’ve had elsewhere.

The flavour is all sultanas, caramel and biscuity malts, with a big long bitter finish courtesy of the peppery English hops. At 4.0% it’s eminently sessionable, but without being in any way boring.

To be honest, if you know what a Bitter tastes like, you know what this one tastes like. It tastes like a Bitter, obviously, but a little bit better.

I think that’s a function of being brewed, conditioned and served with absolute pride. It’s a fine beer indeed, at a fine pub. I had another. And then I found beer number 107 quietly minding its business behind the bar…

Facts and Figures

This is another beer that I’ve had sitting around for a while, and never quite got round to trying. With some of the amazing beers that small London breweries like Beavertown and The Kernel have been putting out recently, it has been difficult to summon up much enthusiasm for a 4.0% English Bitter from the corner shop.

Of course, that sort of lackadaisical approach to the 300 Beers project isn’t going to have the thing finished any time soon, so let’s crack this one open and see what I’ve been missing out on.

Well, Shepherd Neame Master Brew is certainly a fine looking beer, pouring an inviting deep bronze colour with a generous off-white head. The aroma is remarkably malty, with delicate hops and the faintest hint of the distinctive smell of a beer that’s been sat in a colourless glass bottle for slightly too long. That’s entirely my fault, rather than the beer’s, of course.

And it tastes…absolutely terrific. I’m taken aback, as if I’ve learned nothing from my expectations turning out to be entirely misguided countless times already. Master Brew is full of biscuity malts and peppery English hops, and there’s an underlying toffee and dried fruit sweetness that’s the signature of a good Bitter.

Those toffee and fruit notes remind me of the last Shepherd Neame beer we saw, Bishop’s Finger and also Fuller’s ESB, though Master Brew is much lighter and more floral than both of those.

At a fairly tame 4.0% ABV, this one would be eminently sessionable too, and I suspect it has the potential to be absolutely wonderful on cask if kept and served well. I also discovered by accident that it pairs surprisingly well with cheeses such as Camembert, and no doubt other food too.

Good stuff from Shepherd Neame once again.

Facts and Figures