THE OXFORD BAR

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Moving on from the BrewDog bar, where the Punk music selection was a Punk version of 500 Miles and Green Day, clearly the original punks.

Mrs RM is up in Edinburgh for the Festival (not the real one) and BrewDog should make sure she doesn’t get to their punk karaoke night.

OxfordBar

I walked past the Caley Picture House, where several of you have mentioned the Deuchars today.

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Twinned with the Opera House in Tunbridge Wells
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Shiny

It was quite nice, clean loos and all, but they had Deuchars with that frankly dreadful new blue pump clip.

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Ugh

I know it’s childish but I wanted the original pump clip.

Then I remembered where I last had a great Deuchars,

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Somewhere down there
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In you go

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Regular readers will remembered Mrs RM’s guest Pint post from the Oxford last year.

Some great photos in that post, Mrs RM. No NBSS score, though.

A year or so on, it gets an NBSS 3.5 from me. Foamy, complex, beery.

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Rare pic of multiples pints being pulled

But that’s not really why you come here.

It’s a Proper Pub,where all sort of folk go to drink. Mates, bemused whispering couples, loners, the odd tourist on the Rebus trail.

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I saw 6 pints of Deuchars pulled while I was standing at the bar.  Not sure I could say that about any other pub in the last year.

Classic seating, banter about emigrating cousins, the “19th Hole” and tricks to get upgrades on British Airways.

Very Edinburgh.

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Lacings alert

As is Deuchars IPA, still. Just about.

22 thoughts on “THE OXFORD BAR

  1. A wave from Mexico.

    As tomorrow is a travel day the plan was to have a quiet one off the sauce today.
    So as herself roasted by the pool I headed off for a wet shave having spotted an old-fashioned barber’s pole on our wanderings.
    Heches Hombres is a two-chair hole in the wall but kitted out as good as any West End salon.
    As I stepped in both chairs were occupied – but Nutjob and Salvador their occupants were just about done.
    Or so I thought.
    Nutjob looked like a mean French Legionnaire with hair shaped like a tortilla on an otherwise clean shaven bonce.
    Salvador had a magnificent quiff – a Mexican wave if you will – and a Dali-esque moustache.He was as groomed as a dog at Crufts.
    An hour later I was still waiting having watched a performance art of fannying about by the two cutters.
    You could tell which was the boss – he had an exact replica of his barber’s pole tattooed on his neck and the word barber in gothic scroll on his forearm.A man clearly not planning a mid-life crisis change of career.
    I didn’t mind the wait as Kim Jong-Un,the floor sweeper who was short and fat with a hair style like the North Korean dictator – was handing out shots of homemade mescal and bottles of Corona ( it is a beer blog after all … )
    Each time Nutjob was asked to admire his head at the usual something for the weekend stage he shook it and the cutter carried on shaving hair that didn’t exist.
    When presented with his final version Salvador also didn’t like it so the whole washing,crimping,oiling and massaging process started all over again.
    By the time I got into a chair the idea of a quiet day without booze had gone out of the window – but for another hour I relaxed as Edgar my cutter hot-towelled,oiled,massaged and shaved not only my jaw but every stray follicle up nostril and down ear-hole – all with two slices of cucumber over my eye-lids.
    I finally left 30 bucks the poorer,four bottles of Corona and endless shots of mezcal richer and with the closest shave I’ve had.
    And,like Nutjob’s nut,I was half-cut.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. A thumping good read, Prof.

        Mrs. E and I went to a local, and I was delighted, that our two favourite seats were free.

        However, we didn’t sit down, as my beloved pointed out that they were “near” some “people”.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. “I know it’s childish but I wanted the original pump clip” –I also feel very strongly about these pump clip designs, and one of these days I’m going to come up with a reason for those feelings that doesn’t sound childish. 😉

    I gather from comments you’ve made that Deuchars is not held in high esteem among beer fans, those who like cask or otherwise. Is it a bit like Doom Bar in that sense– successful in terms of sales but not much respected by beer enthusiasts?

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    1. I’ve had good Doom Bar, it was an exception though. I suspect it’s the same with Deuchars. Fact is, cask is a perishable product that takes ‘some’ skill to be served at its best. In this regard I don’t believe cask beer is a product suited to national distribution. I prefer to drink as local as possible, but not for reasons of snobbery or ‘localism’, it’s simply that the bigger the brand, the wider the distribution, the less chance a cask ale is going to be anywhere near at its best. This is why Bass is so nice in the Staffs/Derby/Leics area, but probably best avoided further afield.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I always used to think that, but Bass in Plymouth, Gweek, Leighton Buzzard and Tynemouth suggests otherwise. It only takes a day to cart a barrel up the M1 after all. Like you I do stick local if I can though.

        Glad you’ve had good Doom Bar, Mark. The two pints I bang on about, in Winchester and Sawbridgeworth, were superb, their quality way above the DB norm.

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      1. The Oxford is fabulous. I was recently working very nearby, and was gutted when my colleague wanted to get straight back to the hotel.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Tynemouth Lodge Deuchars is served in impeccable condition after a week or more in the cellar. Problem is that the taste and secondary fermentation have both taken a dive over the last ten or so years. If you could try a pint from 15 years ago alongside one from today I doubt you’d say they were the same beer. It’s still a cut above Doom Bar though.

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  4. When I first went into the Oxford a few years ago I fully expected it to be full f tourists on the Rebus trail, but no – it was just like in the books! Proper pub with proper people. I swear I could recognise some of the characters in there from the Rankin books.

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