Our special guest taster was Duncan Grigg, naval architecture’s answer to James May and possible reincarnation of Buddy Holly.

We sampled seven beers from the green hills of Scotland: Broughton’s Oatmeal Stout (4.2% ABV) and Ghillie (4.5% ABV), Belhaven’s Robert Burns (4.2% ABV), Williams Bros’ Kelpie Seaweed Ale (4.4% ABV) and Joker IPA (5% ABV), Orkney’s Dark Island (4.6% ABV), and Inveralmond’s Santa’s Swallie (4.3% ABV) – a malty medley of ales ranging from hoppy pale ales to chocolatey stouts.

Open the Coveritlive link below for a swig-by-swig account of the proceedings.

The eventual winner was Orkney’s Dark Island, a velvety dark ale with succulent notes of chocolate and coffee; closely followed by Williams Bros’ Joker IPA, a playful number with a fruity character.

Beers were procured at Rehills of Jesmond – a veritable Aladdin’s cave of ale in Jesmond’s Cradlewell in Newcastle. And there’s plenty more material where these came from.

If you have any personal favourites from the bonny land, please indulge us in the comments below…

Scottish Ale Tasting / Silver Tankard

Yes it’s a shocking publicity stunt. Yes it’s media-baiting, establishment-mocking, gimmickery. Yes it’s pretty sick. But yes, it’s also another ingenious statement from a brewery that is changing the way we think about beer… And I love it.

BrewDog's 'The End of History' beer. Served in a squirrel. And a stoat.

According to the Telegraph, only 12 bottles of ‘The End of History’ blonde ale have been made – probably for the good of the world, with a 55% volume and price-tag akin to fine champagne. Each is sheathed in a dead animal – seven stoats, four squirrels and a hare – stuffed by a Doncastrian taxidermist.

Responding to criticism from animal-rights and responsible-drinking groups, the ever eloquent BrewDog co-founder, James Watt, told the Telegraph: “This artisan beer should be consumed in small servings whilst exuding an endearing pseudo vigilance and reverence for Mr Stoat… I can think of no grander way to celebrate these animals than for them to be cherished by the lucky owners. [They] all died of natural causes – better to be celebrated and valued than left to rot.”

Surely the question is where does BrewDog go from here? Might it exhume Oliver Reed’s corpse to house a barrel of beer that evaporates before it hits your lips? I wouldn’t put it past these guys…

At 32% ABV, Tactical Nuclear Penguin is probably the world’s strongest beer. And it’s a big statement from its creator, BrewDog, which is probably the world’s most provocative brewery.

BrewDog is certainly one of Scotland’s most adventurous breweries, and its high-profile tussle with responsible drinking lobbyists, the Portman Group, has given birth to a family of weird and wonderful ales. (Continued below).

Beer: getting penguins laid since 1924

In July, BrewDog infamously reported its own brand of beer, Tokyo — at 18.2% ABV, then officially the UK’s strongest pint — to the Portman Group for the irresponsible way it labelled its own bottle. Yes, very confusing. Co-founder of the brewery, James Watt, said on his blog: “Complaining about our own beer was intended to illustrate just what an elaborate and ridiculous waste of time The Portman Group really are”.

Many ale afficionados condemned this as a publicity stunt, and asked why BrewDog would shaft itself to make such a statement (Mark Dredge has a great take on his blog, Pencil and Spoon) . And the Portman Group has duly launched proceedings to ban the beer from sale in the UK.

BrewDog also makes Nanny State , a hoppy 1% ABV beer that would make a fine, responsible session ale if it wasn’t quite so harsh on the palate. The Silver Tankard detects more than a hint of irony.

So the latest offering, Tactical Nuclear Penguin, comes with a fair degree of badinage. According to the BBC, the 32% ABV ale will be sold at £30 per bottle and served in spirit measures.

A finger of beer indeed. And a finger to the establishment at that.

It’s been a long hiatus for the Silver Tankard.

I’ve been a busy bunny, but I won’t pretend I haven’t been guzzling a few glorious pints of real ale. Many adventurers remain unchronicled, but it’s about time for a comeback, and I’m about to embark on an expedition to the foggy city, San Francisco.

It’s got many names – Baghdad by the Bay being one of them, and if anyone knows why this is the case, please indulge me – but San Francisco is a cosmopolitan utopia. So surely there’ll be a scene for some high-quality ale quaffing, right?

San Fran is home to one of my favourite foreign beers, Anchor Steam, and the world famous Anchor Brewery. So it’s going to be a great experience which I hope to chronicle in a future post. Unless I end up in the gutter of course…

**Update (25 April) Enjoyed some stonking beers in San Fran — Anchor Steam, Liberty Ale,  Sierra Nevada and Lagunitas amongst them — but I’ve not got round to writing a full review. If you’re looking for great beer in San Francisco, head to Magnolia in Haight Ashbury which brews its own ales, stouts and lagers on site. Lovely stuff! And then head to the Page for quite possibly the biggest selection of IPAs in the land. And a bloody good jukebox.

Tucked away in a sleepy corner of Northumberland, on the south banks of the River Tyne, the Boathouse Inn is the award winning brewery tap of the Wylam Brewery. We were there to take part in the Wylam Beer Festival, an orgy of real ales with 12 of the brewery’s finest tipples on offer.

In spite of its rural location, the Boathouse Inn couldn’t be easier to get to. We jumped on an eastbound train from Newcastle station, and headed into the wilds beyond the Metrocentre. After about 20 minutes, we rolled off the train in Wylam, and the pub was about 15 yards in front of us. Fortunately for us, we got there early and grabbed the best seat in the house next to the log fire, before droves of people arrived to revel in the atmosphere.

The twelve beers were lined up in pumps across the bar: Northern Kite (4.5% ABV), a ruby scotch; Wylam Bitter (3.8% ABV) and Rocket (5%), tasty best bitters; Landlord’s Choice (4.6% ABV), a single malt; Squire Blackett (4.8% ABV), a brown ale; Gold Tankard (4% ABV), award-winning golden beer; Haugh (4.6% ABV), a smooth porter; Wylam Magic (4.2% ABV), champion summer ale; Locomotion #1 (5% ABV) and Wit (4.5% ABV), wheat beers; Spring Thing (3.4% ABV), a light bitter; and Silver Ghost (5% ABV), a strong summer ale. For full tasting notes, visit the Wylam Brewery website.

We were torn between the whole lot when it came to picking a favourite. And by the time we got through our second tasting, our judgement was considerably impaired anyway. In the end, we settled on Northern Kite and Gold Tankard for joint top spot, just for the hell of it.

When we’d supped our last, we watched out for the descending gates of the railway crossing outside, and staggered to the platform to get our train: jolly well aled and ready for a good nap.

Blimey, journalists can drink.

I spent most of the weekend in the loving arms of a blonde in a black dress. Nope, I wasn’t doing the dirty on wor lass; I’m talking about the pure onyx nectar of the Emerald Isle.

I spent one memorable afternoon getting lost around Belfast’s gridlike backstreets, and couldn’t help spotting sights that reminded me of good old Jesmond…

There’s no escape from the flippin’ place!

Newcastle University’s Student Union is the venue for this ale fest, which takes place THIS WEEK! Between Wednesday and Saturday.

I have been salivating in anticipation of this year’s Beer Festi, but it turns out I’m being dragged whisked away to Belfast on Thursday by the NUJ… Thank heavens, then, that the doors open at 6pm on Wednesday night, phew!

Courtesy of my mate and fellow ale swigger, Gordy, here is a list of the beers up for tasting at this year’s festival; as well as ciders and perries (look out for the self-styled Twat in the Hat…).

Beer List – Newcastle Beer festi 2008

Cider & Perry List – Newcastle Beer festi 2008

I ‘m chuffed to see that Timmy Taylor’s Ram Tam (4.3% ABV) is making another appearance! This was the beer of the festival for me last year – dark and rich, a proper cockle warmer.

Hope you can make it!

Wor Lass accompanied me on a mission to visit as many pubs as possible, and sample some of the finest beer on offer. The rules were simple, one drink in each pub, North East ales only, and don’t order the same drink twice.

Now Wor Lass is a conscientious objector when it comes to drinking ale, but she was willing to offer her two-penneth on the beers on my list (which resulted in much condescending chuckling on my part).

Our first port of call was the Free Trade Inn in Byker, which sits on the confluence of the River Tyne and the Ouseburn. Here, the emphasis is on just three features: fine local ales, a free jukebox, and a glorious view of the Tyne and its bridges. Efforts in the rest of the pub are refreshingly negligible. There is no decor, the building feels on the brink of falling down, and the toilets are covered in the philosophical scribblings of drunken punters. Frankly, the Free Trade Inn is magical.

I order a pint of Gateshead Gold (5% ABV, Northumberland Brewery). It’s light and refreshing, which covers the fact that it’s practically rocket fuel, and there’s a slight fizz on the tongue as it goes down. Wor lass gets to sample the dregs, which she isn’t too happy about. ‘I don’t like ale’, she groans.

Just below the Free Trade is The Tyne, which sits underneath a viaduct – providing a great outdoor venue for live bands. The bar has one of the biggest selections of spirits I’ve ever seen, and Wor Lass looks like a kiddie in a sweet shop. Instead, she orders a bottle of cherry ale, Bacchus Kriekenbier, which at 5.8% ABV is enough to blow anyone’s socks off. I go for a pint of Magus (3.8% ABV), a light session ale with a spicy taste. I’m a huge fan, but Wor Lass is less than impressed: ‘It’s not fizzy, a bit warm, don’t think you’re gonna convert us like!’.

There are six pubs in the Ouseburn Valley, which make it great for a bar crawl. Unfortunately for us, it’s freezing, the rain’s bucketing down, and we’ve got to walk up a hundred steps to get to the Cumberland Arms. But it’s certainly worth it when we get there. The pub has three rooms: a bar; a gigging venue upstairs; and a lounge which plays host to all sorts of weird and wonderful gatherings, including aged fiddlers, drama troupes, and the local knitting society. The bar is old and rickety, and we’re welcomed by an open fire. Featured ales are listed and described on a chalkboard above the fire, and I order a Secret Kingdom (4.3% ABV, Hadrian & Border), which is a dark, malty, full-bodied ale. I love a dark ale, and I savour the roasted caramel taste. Wor Lass isn’t as keen: ‘That’s really bitter, how can you drink that?’. To my displeasure, she orders Strongbow – pint. There are a range of games to get stuck into, and we opt for Battleships. I get carried away quoting lines from Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey, only to be branded a loser by Wor Lass.

Next, we head down the bank to the Ship Inn, and enter to a soundtrack of Everybody Hurts by REM – a stark contrast to our jovial bank holiday mood. Wor Lass orders a Peroni, and I take a Millennium Bridge Ale (3.8%, Mordue), a cloudy ale with a creamy head and an unusual taste – tangy to the palate with a spicy aftertaste. Nice though. Wor lass isn’t too averse to it either: ‘I like it, it doesn’t taste like ale’ – a statement that completely baffled me.

By now, we’re getting pretty tipsy. We fancy a bite to eat, and this coincides nicely with a visit to the Cluny – probably the centrepiece of the Ouseburn Valley drinking scene. The Cluny attracts bands from all over the world to play in its excellent gig venue, and its bar is home to a fine selection of cask ales, ciders and lagers; plus it does a damn fine burger. The pub’s holding its own North East beer festival too. Wor Lass orders another Kriekenbier (and I’m beginning to fear some serious carnage from all this drink-mixing), and I get myself a Bucking Fastard – watch out for a slurring tongue here – (4% ABV, Northumberland Brewery), a light refreshing beer with a hefty head and a tangy kick. Wor lass takes a slight sip and grimaces. ‘Feels like I’m drinking diluted sick’. Nice.

We work off the burger with another hill climb, and reach the Tanners on Byker Bridge, which completes our stint in the Ouseburn Valley. The Tanners is a proper city pub, and somehow reminds me of a barer version of the Queen Vic. Happy hour is on, luckily for wor lass as it’s her round. She gets a pint of Beck’s Vier, and I opt for a Cumberland Ale (4% ABV, Jennings). This is a full bodied bitter, nice and hoppy with a pleasantly bitter aftertaste. Wor Lass isn’t as keen. ‘Is Cumberland in the countryside?’, her nose curls quizzically. ‘It tastes like it’.

From here, we dodge the elements by jumping in a taxi, and head to the Quayside. The first pub on the list is the Crown Posada, and I’m delighted. Six years in Newcastle, and I’ve never been here, so it feels like our visit is long overdue. The Crown Posada is one of the Toon’s oldest pubs, and probably the smallest. The bar is like a corridor, and the place is rammed. We perch at the end of the bar, near the gramophone, and I order a Gladiator (3.8% ABV, Hadrian Brewery), while Wor Lass takes a bottle of Budvar. Now I’ve heard good reports about the Gladiator here, and I’m practically salivating. It’s a dark ale with a deep roasted, smoky taste, and I’m blown away. Wor lass takes a sip, and raises an eyebrow: ‘Not bad… Quite nice actually’. She takes two further gulps, and I have to prise the glass away from her white-knuckled grasp. So much for being unconvertible.

Whilst quaffing the Gladiator, we get talking to two fellas from Preston – Jason and Lappy – who are propping up the bar. Although not real ale drinkers, they are fine gentlemen, and buy us a couple of pints. Lappy opts for a Spitfire (4.5% ABV, Shepherd Neame), and I join him. Although we’re breaking two of our rules here, what better place to do it than the Crown Posada?

After plenty of cross-Pennine banter, we say our goodbyes to the Preston lads, and wobble out of the pub. There’s no mistaking that, by now, we’re shitfaced. We need something to sober us up a little, so when we arrive at the Bridge Hotel, we grab two cokes – a magical remedy for drunkenness. The Bridge is a fantastic pub, probably the best in the city, but the music doesn’t complement its reputation. We enter to the sound of ‘Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me’. Hmmm. We neck the cokes and approach the bar. The barman seemed like an expert ale retailer; he must have seen the confusion in my eyes, and duly provided a brief synopsis of each ale, without prompt. Wor Lass sticks on the coke, and I go for a Red Ellen (4.4% ABV, Jarrow Brewery), named after the famous Labour politician and reformer, Ellen Wilkinson. Like its name, the beer is ruby-red in colour, and has a hoppy character.

Wor Lass has the hiccups, and can’t bring herself to sample any more ale. I announce that the coca-cola has sorted me out, and duly slip down the stairs – clearly this sudden sobriety is a mental rather than physical state.

The beer garden at the back of the Bridge has, quite possibly, the finest view in Newcastle; looking out over the Tyne and High Level bridges. I decide to celebrate this with one of the North East’s most popular local ales, Workie Ticket (4.5% ABV, Mordue) – a former Champion Beer of Britain – a tasty bitter with a malty palate.

My next order is a Pride of Pendle (4.1%. Moorhouses), another award-winner. Having quaffed this one before, I’m looking forward to its refreshing hoppy taste, and bitter finish, but Wor Lass has other plans. She decides I’ve had enough, and gets me a shandy. I don’t argue too much.

Finally, we head past the Central Station, and towards the Forth, on Pink Lane. This is one of my favourite pubs, and it’s recently been refurbished, with the minging toilets replaced by a nice seating area and moved upstairs, and a roof garden added for us dirty smokers. I order Sierra Nevada (5.6% ABV – blimey!) on draught, a classic American pale ale that I’ve never seen out a bottle. The spicy, hoppy taste is perfectly complemented by a glass full of wasabi peas – and I am immediately surrounded by a flock of European students who are on the sniff. A couple more Sierra Nevadas and I’m on my way – my notes are practically illegible, and we decide this is a good point to complete the mission.

Verdict: A tough, tough choice, but both Wor Lass and I agree on the Gladiator at the Crown Posada. However, we might have to head out again next time and work backwards, just to be fair…

For a glimpse of the ales we tasted, and our general drunken buffoonery, visit our photo gallery.

So funny how we aficionados of real ale seem to get fobbed off by lager twats lubbers as drinkers of piss and swamp juice…

Not that I’ve been a crusader for the real ale cause all my life though. I certainly had a mis-spent youth: guzzling pints of Fosters, and occasionally moving on to the JD and cokes when I was feeling flush. (The JD does still makes the odd appearance however.)

I probably didn’t discover the good stuff until I had a good few bristles on my chin. Maybe the palate must mature before a fine ale can be pleasurably quaffed? Hmmm……

So this blog is here to chronicle my quest through real ale culture. What is it? Where in the Toon can you get it best? Stay posted for an ale extravaganza…