You left me in posh west Sheffield having confirmed that Greene King’s plain looking Porter Brook would be an acceptable tea stop for Blackpool Jane.
Knowing Jane, and Inverurie Karen and Mrs RM there would be time for other stops that Friday, so I popped in The Beer House, one of many micropubs with desperately similar names meant to confuse.
I’d ticked this one in 2016, immediately confused it with Ale Club and Beer School, and never visited again.
It’s very good.
And not just because there’s a dark beer on for Jane in 2 days time (the Kirkstall Black Band Porter for me, 3.5),
it’s a jolly place, with locals bringing in a box of apples (why ?) and a courting couple whispering to each other, possibly about the choice of Citra or Simcoe for their next beer. Or possibly not.
In honesty, you don’t get this sort of quality on a Wednesday afternoon that often these days, but that’s Sheffield for you.
And if Jane ever ditches her underachieving Tangerines she could always apply to play in Beer House FC’s 4-4-2 formations. Americans won’t have a clue what I’m on about.
Two quick pints on a school night afternoon, oh dear. Time for a Vietmanese drip coffee from Nam Song on Sharrow Vale.
Think of it as a pre-emptive tick when all the pubs are closed and there’s only Vietmanese coffee shops left.
Sharrow Vale Rpad looked enchanting with its half mile of independent frippery.
My bet was that Jane wouldn’t be able to resist the Introduction to Sauerkraut.
I would be proved wrong.