Reviews

11^th January 2009. Big John’s Place – Home of St Andrew’s Brewing

It was a night when The Count staked his claim against The Silverback (do you like what I did there?). And so, as I thrust myself through Big John’s back gates and settled in at the bar, it was fitting that the sight that greeted me immediately brought to mind the words “ they’ll be dancing, they’ll be singing, they’ll be highland flinging on the streets of Glasgow tonight!” (Tony Green referring to Jockie Wilson; the ‘80s). And what was the sight that summoned forth such reveries? Well, you’re not going to believe this, but it was the combo of Nessie lounging on the bar, the Red Hot Chilli Pipers on the stereo (I’m not lying!) and the sight of a checked skirt on Big John. Could it be that the ten-percenter from New John’s last do was still working its evil magic? No, more worryingly, this was all actually happening. And how did I know it was real? This was down to the prodding, on my thigh, of something hard protruding from Big John’s sporran as he squeezed past to check his haggis and two veg (I didn’t look to see what it was as I made the decision there and then that if I lived a long life in ignorance of the full facts of this incident I would probably die in less torment).

I was in need of an unction to sooth my troubled sensibilities and this duly came in the form of the aforementioned monster of the deep. Confused dot com? Well, there’s no need to be as this monster was no other than the slightly less famous, than the other made up honey trap for fat gullible American tourists, Hop Ness Monster. Indeed, at 5.2% abv and 55 EBU (check it!) it was a monster, but a very nice domesticated IPA type monster with a great Cascade aroma and cracking dry finish. Try saying that to your average American tourist and you’d breath your last to the words “fagging Lymie” whist being driven over by an electric fat cart. Actually, the more I muse on this the more I realise that Scotland was just invented as one enormous theme park for the highway robbery of the clan McGullible’s leeeesure dollars and, now that the credit has crunched, the whole of Scot Land™ is probably facing redundancy. Ah well.

Never mind that! Mores to the point, in the space of a pint, Big Richard had managed to work his way through most of the authentic sounding Scottish pâté and a pile of even more authentic Scottish oat cakes! Though, it was when he started eyeing the pickled onions and eggs, that it was time to take cover or, as we say up north, “gan for a slash”. And what a slash it was too. For, to our amazement, Big John’s garden sported a water feature that could easily pass for an old loo. So, warnings heeded, “no number twos”, a few of us filed out via Big John’s newly erected brew house extension to marvel at the porcelain.

Talking of food it has to be said, that at this stage, Pete hadn’t arrived yet, or as some in the group would say “got the other daft yakker to drive again”, and there seemed to be a discernable urgency, amongst some, to try to devour the whole of the not insubstantial spread that Big John had laid on. However, shortly after Pete and his chauffeur arrived we witnessed an act of supreme hospitality, from Big John, as he presented us with a plate of warm scotch pies and Pete finally got his hands on a portion. They were absolutely cracking pies, so much so that a group of grown men were rendered silent for literally tens of seconds and, through the pie-eyed haze of satisfaction, I swear I caught sight of one lazy tear trickling down Pete’s cheek – it was beautiful man! I didn’t clock his reaction to the later appearance of haggis, neaps and tatties, though I rather suspect he was good for nowt.

More beer was needed not only to wash down the pies but also to help us through Little Rich’s tales of sucking out 600 gallons of effluent from a septic tank impeded by, and I quote, “jam rags!” Thank Zeus for the elderflower bouquet of Big John’s Spring Mth’ Ale to counteract the nausea. This ale has become Big John’s house special and although tonight’s batch was getting on a bit it was still very good – a smashing session ale.

I followed this with a pint of the Pipers Best Scotch (5.3% abv / 20 EBU) which did not quite live up to the boast of its name but did win the prize for best pump clip of the night as Big John had hand-painted a little portrait of a piper. He’s a clever lad is John and if we ever find that bushel of his we’ll be pulling his light from under it. (We don’t really have a prize for best pump clip though!). Nonetheless, The Best Scotch paved the way for the grand finale that was Auld Reekie. What a cracker – a 5.9% abv smoked porter. I say 5.9% but it was still working out in the confines of the poly pin in an attempt to get a lot bigger and I would say it was succeeding!

Well, what can I say, a great night of contrasting beers, tasty food and good company. Beer of the night? It was a close run thing but the Hop Ness Monster took it by a whisker from Auld Reekie. Sounds like the craziest horse race ever but what a privilege to have two such qulaity beers to choose between.

Finally, just space to mention a couple of bits of group business – John W undertook to get some possible dates for a trip to a maltings and also took the opportunity, with this being the first meeting of the new year, to start the now traditional annual cider press debate. Ground Hog Day has got nothing on this one! Role on 2009.

Happy new year and that’s your lot for now,

Dave

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