almostwitty

I was having some delicious sushi with some dear Northern friends of mine, when I noticed a particular icon on my Japanese beer bottle.

I don’t follow health news at all, but even I know that pregnant ladies are generally discouraged from smoking and drinking. So why they need a particular icon to signify that, in the unlikely event that a pregnant lady picks up a bottle of Sapporo beer, is anyone’s guess!

The temptation to make this my new avatar is quite high…

In other American news, a pregnant lady is admitted to hospital. She’s a smoker. The doctors go to court to argue that she should be confined to bed until the baby is born, to stop her smoking and harming the baby. The courts agree.

Mirrored from almost witty.

A while ago, thanks to a sudden Twitter from Annie Mole, I found myself invited to a Qype event of a brewery tour and ale tasting, washed down with some oysters.

The directions from Clapham Junction took me to an anonymous industrial estate - aside from the sign at the front proclaiming Sambrook’s Brewery, there was nothing to indicate that there was a brewery inside. No pipes, no steel tubing, no huge plume of smoke, nothing.

Inside, aside from a presentation and tasting room, the entire space was dedicated to the arcane art of brewing, although it seemed more like a scientific slaughterhouse than a brewery farm - hosing everywhere, a grey concrete floor, and huge steel tankers. Fortunately, the master brewery took us through the process of turning hops (which tasted nice), malt (which tasted terrible), yeast, and London water into a freshly-brewed beer. Of course, it also takes a few other ingredients - including sturgeon swimbladders to make the whole thing clear - but otherwise, they use all-fresh natural ingredients for a natural brew. Which you could tell in the final test product.

After that, as if drinking one fresh beer wasn’t enough, we made the long trek to the warm and welcoming Westbridge, where the landlord Charlie took us knowledgably through a variety of beers and ales, all washed down with some lovely oysters. With the interesting titbit that you should only eat oysters when there’s an ‘R’ in the month, so I’ve only got a month left to find more oysters in London…

Unfortunately, I’m not someone who can describe what they like, I just know when it hits my taste buds whether I like it or not. And I didn’t taste a single terrible thing all night. If I happened to live or work within striking distance of Battersea, the Westbridge would definitely be a high contender for my favourite local.

During all this, I was surrounded by the glittering taste buds of London’s blogerati, which seemed to include beer genius James Cridland, anniemole, londonelicious.com and hollow legs, who is painstakingly trying to recreate Chinese recipes from her childhood. I really must develop my tastebuds sometime.

Originally published at almost witty. You can comment here or there.