A few dry days after Scotland, interrupted by an urgent need to see how my home town was coping with Dryanuary.
Quite well it seems.
But first a business trip to what must surely a future Cambridge micro pub.
You might think the Regal couldn’t match Lloyds for artistic merit, but there is something hypnotically beautiful about the Spoons plates that hold my smashed avocado bagel.
I was going to get a (free refill) coffee, but the lure of the Titanic was too much. As you’ll see, the competition wasn’t fierce.
Beer quality (and range) hasn’t been that great over the last decade, but this was a joy. Not quite a rival for P**m P*****r, but not far off, and superbly presented (NBSS 4).
The Regal itself looked a bit unloved, despite regularly “refurbishment”, and you wouldn’t have been able to complain about slow service on this night. More drinkers than diners for a change.
But those lacings…
You can never just have one in Cambridge, can you ?
Off to the Maypole via one of our prettiest streets, pausing to gawp in through windows at AmDram societies and folk playing the cello. Car parking remains a constraint though.
Pints and Pubs had tweeted about some evil keg he’d imbibed, and a 7.1% Citra IPA always sounds appealing when you really shouldn’t.
The Maypole is an exemplar in making a plain pub look very lovely with a bit of lighting and a lot of welcome. It’s that, rather than the 3,000 beers that draws me in every time.
The outside smoking area was unusually quiet,
but the two rooms were packed, largely with the returning students. Most were drinking the cask, which is just as well when there’s sixteen on.
No Kernel, so I went slightly mad and ordered a Tring Pale Four, possibly the daftest choice possible.
You can tell a beer’s quality from the head.
A contender for beer of the month (NBSS 4.5), the Maypole showing how beer can be served cool and with a natural Southern scummy head to best effect.
No, I didn’t fall in the Cam on the way back.