I really didn’t want to have to write this post, but BRAPA would have, and sort of DID when he visited the Twice Brewed in September 2019. “A dining led tourist family spot” where Si receives scandalised looks, it was without doubt the scariest pub experience of Volume VII of my pub memoirs (2016-21).
Now, I’ve told you the beer was superb. I should add that the hotel rooms were equally good, with world-beating views to the pizzeria out the back. Baa Baa was enchanted.
If Mrs RM or I post a review of the hotel on Trip Advisor it will be entirely positive.
But I hated it with every fibre of my being. It’s not you, it’s me etc etc.
From the moment we had to beg the waiting staff to book us a table for a quick drink in an empty bar, when I realised just how much I hate giving strangers my name and number unnecessarily (it stems from a childhood stammer, I guess), to the ENDLESS instructions about nothing important from the concierge (?) when we just wanted the room key as we were sodden, to the staff standing around staring at us as we came down to dinner (there’s no Chinese takeaway on the Wall), to the pub name on the staff shirts, to the naffety naff soundtrack of “Sunshine on Leith” and “Everybody Hurts“, to the couple in fitness gear humming “Over My Shoulder“, to the sense that all the staff had been trained by Alex Polizzi to be robotic.
Mrs RM looked astounded at the dinner menu. “It’s EXACTLY the same as the one at the Greenhead !”.
Sadly, the Greenhead appeared to have stolen the Twice Brewed chef as the food here was a triumph of quantity over taste. This is the “double” burger.
Not since Stafford Paul ate SIX (6) sausages at the Lost Dene have so many calories been presented on one plate.
It would have impressed in a Hungry Horse, if you’re lucky enough to know what I mean.
“What about the beer ?” asks Beer Twit.
Well, we’d been told there were two beers that afternoon, but I’d donned my invisible cloak and sneaked a peak at the pumps, which probably makes me Northumberland’s most wanted.
So I KNEW there were more, but with no beer menu we had to rely on two entirely contradictory listing of the ales from the staff.
We overheard a lady with a name badge saying “Christine” explain the beers beautifully to the next table. We pounced on Christine, and ordered “the hazy IPA“.
It was a saison. And you know what Mrs RM thinks about saisons.
I loved it.