Tick, tick... Brum!

The first international trip covered on this blog, indeed the one that prompted me to actually get it started, was to Birmingham. I hadn't been back since, which rankled especially since I had missed the city's longtime Real Ale haven The Wellington. An unplanned layover in the city after Christmas gave me a few hours to right that particular wrong, and do a little bit of updating on my Birmingham beer geography.

The selection at The Wellington is indeed impressive, and the first one that caught my eye was Thai-Bo by Welsh brewer Coach House. Old lags may remember this as produced by the much-missed Otley brewery. Nick Otley gets a shout-out on the pumpclip, though not the collaborator on the original, Melissa Cole. I never got to try it first time around so wasn't going to pass up this second chance.

It's 4.6% ABV and ostensibly a wheat beer, spiced up to resemble a Thai curry. There's a pleasing light dusting of coconut, very much savoury here rather than the Bounty effect you get in stouts. There's a zestiness which I took for something like satsuma at first, before twigging that of course it's lemongrass. Although the flavour pulls in lots of different directions, and it's very much a novelty job, losing sight of the base beer, it's a fun one. Served cool and cask-conditioned it slips back very smoothly. Nice.

The house beers are from Black Country ales in Kingswinford and there's a mild, so that had to be done. It's called Pig on the Wall and is a hefty fellow for the style, I think, being 4.3% ABV. In the glass it's dark ruby rather than black, with an even and lasting head on top. The flavour is a little sweeter than I like my mild, emphasising plummy forest fruit but missing any balancing roasted dryness. Instead there's a sticky burnt-caramel effect, one which lingers longer on the palate than was welcome. I guess it prevents the beer from seeming watery, and it does taste and feel full and wholesome. But I like my mild with roast and I'm too old to change that now. Regardless, I was delighted to get to try another example of this rare style.

Then I went around the corner to The Colmore where they were serving two more of them. The Colmore is a Thornbridge/Pivovar joint, so the list leans heavily on Thornbridge and the Tap beers. It's an impressive space too, all pale oak and high ceilings, like the lobby of a posh alpine hotel.

Mild number one here was Knäck, a 4%-er. This is very black and, oh hello roast. The fruit is missing and, as I suspected would happen from the previous example, it's thin and a little watery. That's not to say it's bad -- not at all -- it's just different and much more to-style when I think of mild. What was interesting (to me) was that this lighter and drier sort of mild is not necessarily more drinkable than the thicker and sweeter one. I would be hard pressed to decide which is best if faced by them both in a competition. Thornbridge's is more what I would deem typical, but I think the forest fruit of the Black Country one is an important enough component of the whole picture that that's my favourite. There's still plenty of flavour in Knäck and I really enjoyed my pint of it.

The second is a different proposition altogether. Wilder's Folly is 6.5% ABV so belonging to that sub-genre of strong dark milds, of which Sarah Hughes is perhaps the modern archetype. It's black, again, and still dry and roasty. There's a stout-like creaminess to the texture but also a hint of the forest fruit that mild does best. While it's fine, and I recognise the historicity and all that there, for a dark beer at this strength it doesn't really have the complexity and richness that I'm after. Without quaffable drinkability, something as subtle as dark mild isn't a viable proposition. Up the fruit and make it sippable, Thornbridge. Then we'll talk.

Enough tradition. Next stop was the thoroughly-modern Tilt, a pinball bar with a very fashion-conscious beer list. There wasn't much of interest. I settled for Plan Bee, a honey Scotch ale from Pope's Yard multiplied by Simple Things. Yeah, me neither. What I got for my £5.50 was a muddy brown half pint which did smell strongly of actual honey, though not much else. I feared it would be a mucky mess but there's quite a clean profile on the go here, honey and candy, plus the ghost of some Highland toffee that's been largely fermented out. It doesn't really fit the "wee heavy" profile very well: there should be more sweetness and a much weightier body. The guy at the next table had a plait in his goatee, so I guess there's that.

Thank you to everyone who responded to my request for Birmingham recommendations with Tilt. I'm glad I've seen it, but I won't be sending anyone this way myself.

A quick one in the vicinity of New Street station was Merry Brummie by Birmingham Brewing, a spiced rye ale pouring at Cherry Red, more a café than a pub, but with cask. It's a dun brown colour and smells of mince pies and Christmas pudding. The spicing isn't excessive in the flavour but there's not much else going on. The texture is thin and it delivers an unbeery incense or bath salts vibe. I get what they're trying to do but the thinness spoils any festive qualities: too spiced to be sessionable; too weak to be sipped merrily. Even at 4.7% ABV there are better ways to do this.

And so to the airport. There was just one beer new to me at the Wetherspoon: Greene King Fireside. I wasn't expecting much. Yep, it's brown and though not twiggy as such it has an olde worlde character, tasting predominantly of gooey liquorice and old fashioned toffee. I see where they're coming from: there are dark burnt sugar qualities which do indeed suggest fireside drinking.

I was quite pleased to have got this much done in the few hours I had available. It was particularly heartening to see mild in such rude health. December is a much better month than May for promoting and celebrating it.