Friends of the World Drinking Tour know the Skimmington Castle as a legendary site for tales from the drink.

Founding tour member Keef introduced me to “The Skim” (as it is better known) over 10 years ago. As we drove up Bonnys Road in Reigate, he pointed to a sand trap on the golf course and simply stated, “I slept in that bunker one night.”

Indeed, one of the best things about The Skim is the convenient discount lodging at the nearby bunker … although the early morning checkout time, and wake-up call with a golf ball, can be a minor inconvenience.

You can read more about our tales from The Skim at our sister web site, http://www.theskim.com/ or http://www.skimmingtoncastle.com/ … the web sites that eventually led to the creation of this blog.

But alas, it’s been a rough year for The Skim. Long time publicans John and Naomi called it a day in September 2006, and a new tenant landlord was brought in. They still have Addlestone’s Cloudy Cider on tap, but the food … which was always consistent … if not high-quality, extremely good quality … country pub food … has gone downhill. And the public has noticed, as the pub is not nearly as crowded as it used to be.

In early August, on a Sunday afternoon visit to The Skim, I had run into John at the bar. He had popped in for a quick pint, but then joined me and my friends on the new back deck at The Skim to catch up on things. Turns out that he and Naomi had just wanted to take some time off, but they were soon to be taking over the Black Horse in Reigate, which was less than a mile down the road.

As fate would have it, my next visit to Reigate was Thursday, September 20, 2007. Keef and I thought that we’d check out The Black Horse, see if John had taken over yet, and if they had Addlestone’s … then maybe pay another visit to The Skim.

Turns out that it was John’s first night at The Black Horse. No Addlestone’s yet, but we had a pint and decided that the food menu was definitely worth returning for … after a quick trip to The Skim. Popping round The Skim for a few pints of Addlestone’s is always a good idea … but it’s an especially good idea if you’re flying long haul out of Gatwick the next day (preferably with a flight around noon).

After four or five pints of Addlestone’s, we arranged transport with our designated driver Brian to pick us up at The Skim and head down to the Black Horse for a meal.

The food at the Black Horse was excellent … and while there was some decent beer, we decided to transition to the Hoegaarden, as that seemed more compatible with the Addlestone’s that was already in our system. And I’m proud to have been there to close down The Black Horse on John’s first night (which probably reminds him why he had wanted to take some time off in the first place).

Thankfully, the Black Horse has a comfy sitting area so that the designated driver can take a kip, while his mates take pictures and make a general nuisance of themselves.

I look forward to returning to The Black Horse, which we jokingly refer to as The Skim 2.0.

But I also hope that changes will be forthcoming for The Original Skim, so that it can return to its past days of glory and legend.

‘Nuff said, ‘eh Gumby?

Brian Jackson suffers the consequences after yet again refusing to go drinking with his mates, as extreme dehydration sets in.

So I missed Steve’s going away party at the Beer Circus. I’m at the
Beer Circus and so is Steve, minus the onion breasts (thankfully).

Belgium Revisited….and not a moment too soon!

Well it doesn’t seem like a year since we were last there, but despite that I think we left it too long before revisiting.

Sure, those of us lucky enough not to live in South Carolina can buy most Belgian beers at our local supermarket, but that’s just not the same. You have to be there to fully enjoy the beer…drinking it at mid day in Grand Plas in the sunshine, or washing down shrimp croquets, tucking into the stomp, or even scoffing an occasional horse steak!

Anyhow, your corespondent has found a new favorite beer – Maredsous Triple. Its up there in the same league as Westvleteren 12.

Having discovered something so pleasant (and effective) it took great will power to to even consider trying other beers.

But my sense of duty prevailed and I tried a few other varieties, only returning to the Maredsous 2 or 3 times a day.

We also found some new friends…a contingent of similar minded guys from The Netherlands.

We got on so well we didn’t need to learn each others names….or maybe the beer just killed those brain cells… Whatever, the camera didn’t forget.

Of course we are all health conscious individuals and so in the evenings we took care to make sure we got our daily dose of fruit and vegetables.

Luckily the new Floris Garden serves magnificent mojitos…..rich in anti-oxidants they’re the ideal “detox” drink, clearing the pallet and readying one for the next round of beers.

The bar was out of jugs and so kindly served us the cocktails in pint glasses. What service! (antique phone provided to show scale).

The weekend passed all to soon. Time to start planing the next visit!

R.A.B.

I can’t believe that almost a year has passed, and not a word has been written about last year’s trip to Brussels for Belgian Beer Weekend 2006.

ColoniAL dutifully reported on the Amsterdam leg of the tour, but not a word was written about those 4 nights in Brussels.

For this reporter, I can only say that any attempt to describe the trip with words just seemed to take away from the magic.

I did take some notes at the beginning of the trip. So I know that it all began with an Orval in the lobby bar of the Ibis, as we waited to meet up with some of the early arrivals. A Westmalle Tripel followed (the selection at the Ibis lobby bar isn’t the most extensive, but in any other town it would be nothing to complain about).

Then a small contingent wandered in search of La Lunette for a lunchtime session. I remember enjoying a liter of Rodenbach, followed by at least one additional liter.

I remember many nights sitting at the tables in the alley between the Delirium Cafe and the Floris Bar. Hanging out at those bars was really the highlight of the trip. The inside of the Delirium Cafe was too crowded, but the alley way was great … as were the late nights inside the Floris Bar, where we did our best to clear their shelves of absinthe. I remember the water dispenser dripping over the sugar cube for absinthe in the French style … and I remember the flaming black absinthe. I also remember Joel, the owner of Delirium Cafe and Floris Bar giving a hand signal to the barman late one night … early one morning … initially we thought he was cutting us off, but we were pleased to learn that instead the next couple of rounds were on the house.

I remember meeting Tom Peters from Monk’s Cafe in Philadelphia at the bar in Delirium Cafe. Earlier in the day we had been enjoying a few bottles of Cantillon at the Cantillon Brewery … and we watched as the folks at Cantillon gave special attention and treatment to an American. We didn’t know who the guy was, but as they offered him samples in one room, the good folks at Cantillon would bring the left overs from the big bottles over to our table and explain to us what we were sampling. When I saw Tom at Delirium Cafe later in the day and saw his Monk’s Cafe shirt, I put two and two together … Tom is the person who convinced Cantillon to make their Gueuze available on draft for his bar in Philly. A great man indeed, and we enjoyed finishing off the samples that he was offered at Cantillon.

I remember meeting a bartender from the Poechenellekelder who had stopped in at the Delirium to meet up with a bartender from another Brussels bar after their establishments had closed. He bought me a St. Bernadus 12, encouraging me to give it another try. I had written off St. Bernadus 12 a couple of years back, when I had a bottle that was just way to sweet for my taste. But he was right … with Westvleteren 12 so hard to find these days … St. Bernadus 12, while not a perfect substitute (it is too highly carbonated), does help alleviate the craving at least a little bit. We need to make it to the Poechenellekelder this trip … it’s probably a better lunch time stop on the first day than La Lunette.

I remember the beer festival itself on the Grand Place. It was a great location from such a festival, if a bit crowded. I remember the Irish guy who was hitting on Rosie … or maybe he was hitting on Dale … I remember he kept talking about how his friends sometimes wondered if he was gay as he was the only unmarried one among his group of Irish friends who had made their way to the beer festival. I think he was trying to hit on Rosie, but he might have been distracted by Dale’s bulging biceps …

I remember Bill guarding the table full of Westvleteren Blonds that he had ordered on our behalf when he was the first one to arrive at the festival on Saturday afternoon. I remember Harrison being elected mayor of Brussels (or at least if the election was held that day, and only people at the beer festival, Delirium Cafe and Floris Bar could vote, he’d have won by a landslide).

It was a great time … a lot of serious Belgian beer drinking … and I’m sure if I thought long and hard enough, a humorous anecdote or two … but I’d rather not think about it too much. I’d rather just sit back and smile …

And now the time comes from for a return trip … Belgian Beer Weekend 2007 … Brussels be warned, here we come!!!

Another great evening at the Beer Circus in Croydon … and I may not be there to partake, but my spy camera did capture the following disturbing image …

Young Steve is about to embark on a year long move to Paris, and he’s been catching up on the latest fashion trends. Unfortunately, his fashion consultant is Grandpa Simpson:

“We can’t bust heads like we used to, but we have our ways. One trick is to tell ’em stories that don’t go anywhere—like the time I caught the ferry over to Shelbyville.I needed a new heel for my shoe, so, I decided to go to Morganville, which is what they called Shelbyville in those days. So I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style at the time. Now, to take the ferry cost a nickel, and in those days, nickels had pictures of bumblebees on ’em. ‘Give me five bees for a quarter,’ you’d say. Now where were we? Oh yeah—the important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time. They didn’t have white onions because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones…”

The onion necklace is a 21st century variation of the style … and I understand it is taking Paris by storm.

Good luck in Paris Steve, it looks like you’re going to need it!