From the birthplace of Bass to its spiritual home.
Shamefully, this was our first trip to Burton since I started this blog in 2015, and it’s been prompted by a rather seismic, some would say heretical, event.
The new Beer Guide has lost the Coopers* (of which more later) and the Elms, and gained a couple of micro pubs, which had better be good.
It may be useful to you to know that Burton is virtually inaccessible from the east, due to bridge closures. Thanks for telling me, Burton.
The little stretch from the Art Deco clock at Woodville into town took well over an hour, and then I missed the entrance to our hotel. Sadly, the Three Queens is a drama-free motel with bargain rates and a splendid buffet breakfast, in stark contrast to a certain Stapenhill Bed & Breakfast from the ’90s.
Consequently I was rather “in need of a half of mild” by the time we eventually got across the A511 to the High Street.
We arranged to meet the Potteries legend 6TownsMart after work, and headed for the Dog. That was so good, it gets its own post too.
So our story starts, just past the giant shovel, in the Fuggle & Nugget.
Now I’m running out of ways to describe micro pubs, so it’s just as well I-phone cameras were invented.
5pm opening, tilted barrels, bar snacks, high tables, soft furnishings – all in place.
Table service from the cheeriest couple in Burton, and any beer menu that includes North Riding is beyond reasonable criticism. Nice to see only three cask ales, which meant we could drink them all (NBSS 4). Less really is more. Quite a take up for the Sam Smiths lager, you’ll be pleased to hear.
Mrs RM liked it a lot though her feet didn’t touch the floor. Micro pubs aren’t designed for micro people. Whether that entitled her to swing her legs around I doubt.
As so often when pubby folk meet, we had no idea what Stokie Martin looked like, and when he did he was greeted with a familiarity that was good to see. Martin is a bit photo-shy (like me), so I won’t say which of the two folk in the foreground of this picture he is.
Martin was great company, as indeed are all Stokies, and we stayed for more than we should have, given our schedule.
We even got a little guided tour from a man who clearly knows his Burton. (though drinking Draught Bass in halves is a crime, Martin).
On to the burning at the Heretic.
*Yes I know the Coopers has had a change of management which probably explains it, but it’s still The End of Times.