Wednesday, August 20

LANDLORD PROFILE: SENOR TOM






Edinburgh

Dave Hynes



Now i know Tom through a rather mysterious beautiful Indian friend, known only as 'V', and, like me, Tom has an enthusiam for the pub trade. Charismatic, charming, efficient, and friendly, he has been a bar man for long enough to give the Scottish Pub Guide an informed low-down on the ins and outs of pub life down at the busy and oh-so-trendy Shore. Tom and V own the lease for the magnificent roadrunner Bar Diesel; or at least they did.

Unfortunately, and the news resonates with all the happiness of Chernobyl's radioactive diffusion, Bar Diesel closed down last month. I should know, I was at the closing weekend party, where Tom kindly allowed those loyal punters to have a few freebies or ten- like i say he's a lovely guy. Despite the valedictory revelry, it was a sad occasion for all and sundry.

So why has Bar Diesel closed down, a pub which offered so much, tried so hard and, from many-a-punter's perspective, delivered the goods with consummmate ease? It was a fantastic bar after all?

Custom; slightly, oh-so-slightly in fact, just off the beaten track most punters seemed to have by-passed the boozer. Set just around the corner from Sofi's and the Waterline, and far superior to both, people simply seem to be unaware of its existence. How this is possible i don't know, but it is to everybody's loss.


Bar Diesel had everything; great food, great beers, motorbikes on display, leather sofa's, trendy artwork, clean, airy, tile-floored- it was a delight for the senses. How come Leithers did not know it was here!!!!!! Certainly Tom and V tried hard enough to promote it, but the basic fact that about ten metres of mis-location has proved perilous to this esteemed establishment. Heart-breaking, truly heart-breaking, the Marksman and Anderson's and Wilkie's thrive whilst this beauty wilts. This tragedy will, i'm sure, be lost on most of you!

HALL OF SHAME: THE RULE




St Andrews


Dave Hynes


Formally The Gin House it has now changed name, but i'm afraid it is just as bad as i remembered, possibly worse- which speaks volumes for the I.Q levels of the so-called renovators. Its new orientation sees it marketed as, quell supris, a trendy wine bar/ funky discotheque paying too much for four fat bast*rds to guard the entrance and having a strict policy of only letting c*nts in.


Beautiful barmaids, food by day, and a large extension area downstairs are the new features but most impressive is the novel grandiose upstairs area, making it possible to perv on cleavage and drip semen into the pints of the last vestiges of King George VII’s gene pool. In many ways the piece de resistance of the St Andrews pub ethos, which in concise summation, is to have a potentially really good joint considering the affluent demographic, the stupendously fit birds, the student vibe and the execution of a Gattuso slide tackle that would even make the Italian stallion cringe. Could be/should be/why the f*ck isn’t it any good?


Who knows. Anyway, it’s a massive dollop of slimey poo which perpetuates itself through the wallets of some of the biggest fanny-faced Aryan/Oxbridge/Devil’s rejects who like to frequent here, I think they call it ‘Old Sarum’ or something to discuss whether there is anybody on earth who, as a collective, might steal their crown as really massive tw*ts. Achieves the ‘bad pub award’ with consummate ease.

If it rules anything, i would hate to think what the roost was like.

PUB REVIEW: AIKMAN'S


St Andrews



by Dave Hynes


This legendary pub is like a basement ghetto for those students and locals trying to avoid a particular brand of homo arsus, the St Andrews posh student, kitted out it titillating polo jodhpurs and wellington boots, finishe dwith splendid Elizabethan haircuts, inbred for maximum titness and with huge mammary glands hanging off the testicles of the males.


Yes, Aikmans is a different kettle of fish entirely from the usual St Andrews outfit. It's not neccessarily great because sometimes it really brings you down with its morose offerings of normality and it's fairly old-manish outlook. Nevertheless, it is for its incongruity which sets Aikman's apart from the rest; welcoming, friendly, warm and cosy it puts two fingers up to the latest phenomenon in St Andrews, that ghastly neurosis affecting the town, I am referring, of course, to the stupidity of the gastro-pub craze. What nonsense.


It’s a strange old place is old Aikman's.; dotted with a few strange individuals, lots of hippies, music afficionados, and sweaty locals who seem to come to check out the talent. It is unique in St Andrews as a pub unlike any other, virtually unchanged for the last thirty years.


The manageress, known authoritively, affectionately and with justifiable aplomb as ‘Barbara’ is a genuinely wonderful human being who deserves every success in life. In truth, she does an excellent job, working tirelessly to ensure smooth runnings. Aikman’s is filled with an excellent array of beers from around Europe and especially different areas of German. The bottle selection is brilliant with a variety of fruity and spicey classics. The whisky collection is equally impressive, and comes with local expertise. It is the venue for the St Andrews University society, one of the few decent ones left.


Aikman’s is pretty good for its gigs as well, although if your unlucky you’ll go when its just one tw*t with his guitar worshipped by loads of posh and/or working class tw*ts, probably strangely enjoying the vibe’s class cross sectional tw*t appeal , drinking Erdinger and genuinely not knowing how not to be a tw*t. Sometimes though, it’s absolutely brilliant, great blues riffs, folk songs, rock and roll and its hard not to just completely forget yourself and get down with it all.


One major problem; it’s excruciatingly hot, especially downstairs where if you drink enough premium lager you can pretty much trip. I did and i saw the whisky bottles sliding off their holsters, down the walls and into the fanny of the grand daughter of the earl of Derbyshire. As I dived into her precious parts, I saw methodine-flavoured alka-seltzers, I saw tomato-kissed red lumps of stout beauty, I saw ochre-shaded pints of the good stuff and blond tuffs of luscious lager, I saw the beautiful tones of a connoisseur brandy, I saw the ruff pools of buckfast swimming inside her womb….i saw so much it broke my mind on a jagged sky of hallucinogenic dogshit


So this is what Aikman’s is, a riddle inside a mystery inside an enigma inside a really strange Scottish fishing town, recession- proof, tourist-friendly, golf-orinented, hedonistic place filled with a few absolute diamond geezers, like the magnificent Barbara, but mostly filled with wankers. Truly encapsulates the self-perpetuating dichotomy of dilemma the St Andrews boozing scene promotes; exorbitant, cheerless and yet strangely charming. Aikman’s is at least a real pub, a pub’s pub, and a good one at that. As soon as you walk in you feel pissed, it has that I’ve-been-drinking-whisky-even-though i-can’t-remember-touching-a-drop-syndrome, so you sit down, already pissed yet sober, and…drink a whisky. Now that’s a decent boozer- great food too.

BEER OF THE WEEK: THE LIDL BEER SELECTION







by Dave Hynes

For this week's installment of an overview of the beer industry, we've decided to look at the market for cheap off-license bargains. More accurately, low-cost supermarket offerings. more accurate still, the bease we know as Lidl- that blitzkrieg German export helping the impoverished get pissed at a price of about £0.001 per 200 litres of booze. So, what do they offer?

  • FINKBRAU; Price; at a whopping 39pence a can, even the hobo's are laughing all the way to the....... dole office. Five cans for a measly £2,... ney bad pal. ABV; 4.0%, so-so. Taste; actually it's seriously drinkable, genuinely as tasty as the over-priced up-market counterparts. Star Rating; we like it!
  • GRAFEN WALDER; Price; modestly placed at 75 pence, this is one of Lidl fancier versions of cheap lager. ABV; 4.8%, wahoo! Taste; Again, seriously provides value for money, i prefer it to Stella, Carling, Foster's, Tennants, in fact, i rate it better than most beers. Star Rating; excellent, but is it worth two Finkbrau's?
  • EXCELSIOR; Price; 83 pence, steady there Lidl, don't bust my balls, ABV; 4.1%, fairly average, Taste; pretty dire i'm afraid Star Rating; seriously crap beer
  • KLASSIEK Holland Lager; Price; 77p (per bottle), not bad but not quite a bargain; ABV; 5.0%, yeeees!, Taste; very nice actually, crisp clean and quite contagious; Star Rating; worth getting if you buy a multipack
  • Hatherwood Bitter, Price; £2.29 4-pack, ABV; 4.0%, bit weak, Taste; dark brown flavoursome mixture of malt and hops which goes down the old pipe with consummate ease.
Lidl provides value for money. Even if you buy the more well-known brands, they are still considerably cheaper. If there is a problem, it's the fact that generally only two check-out aisle's are ever open, the fact no one seems to speak English and the fact it's......well it's Lidl isn't it.

BEER OF THE WEEK: KRUSOVICE







by Dave Hynes

The Královský Pivovar Krušovice (the Royal Brewery of Krušovice) is one of the oldest breweries in the Czech Republic. The brewery was established in 1517 when the Svatováclavská Contract enabled the aristocracy to brew beer on their own farms. Its most famous export is a beautifully crisp, clean and refreshing beer which has witnessed something of a rise to fame in the UK market over the last five years.

See, here at the ScottishPubGuide we strive to bring you in-depth, historically accurate information ( entirely plagiarised of course), relentlessly searching and scanning the myriad archives of brewing history to bring you, the alcoholic punters, a much needed low-down on what's hot and what's not.

My trumpet blows loud but this time justifiably so, because Krusovice is a king of beers. Brisque and terse on the throat, it is staggeringly quenching as smooth mouthful after mouthful satiates the drinker with a golden treacle. It's easy to sink about six in a row without realising it.

Crisp, textured and weaven through an intricate web of wonderful wheat, heaped together through a happy hedonistic helping of hops, and made with mellow, magic, melting malts, Krusovice simply provides a delight for the senses. Priced, generally, over the £3 barrier you pay for the quality it delivers but it's certainly provides value for money.

Krusovice has recently been taken over by Heineken breweries which sounds a precarious merger, let's hope the Dutch don't mess this Czech delight around too much

It's older brother, Krusovice Dark, is a brooding black panther of a beer which, staggeringly, manages to beat its milder blonder cousin. Expect another feature on Krusovice Dark soon, part of the ScottishPubGuide's Czech Beer season.

Picture Attribution; *TOM

Friday, August 15

INTERVIEW: MICHAEL JACKSON

Michael Jackson was perhaps the finest beer writer the world has seen. Sadly he passed away in August 2007. Here is a clip of what would appear to be his last interview.



We'd encourage anyone with an interest in beer to take a look at some of his books and enjoy his website The Beer Hunter

Monday, August 11

BEER OF THE WEEK: PILSNER URQUELL


by Chris Hammond

This week The Scottish Pub Guide is plumping for my personal favourite, Pilsner Urquell. As bitter as Arsene Wenger but as tasty as Kiera Knightly, this colossal Czech beverage is an absolutely wonderful if complex creature.


It’s so damn fine in fact I’d use it for an enema given half the chance. Just think of those gloriously cloying bubbles of beery delight fondling your colon, bathing the little blighter in pure natural Eastern European goodness . . .

Do it quickly enough and you could also use the discarded fluid to top up your mates pint. That’d give the recycling Nazis something to think about.



Photo by burge5000

Friday, August 8

PUB REVIEW: SLAINS CASTLE


by Chris Hammond


ABERDEEN

Slains Castle Cruden Bay, “the castle of the dead” was one of the key inspirations for Bram Stokers immortal classic Dracula. Slains Castle Aberdeen, “the bar of the braindead” is about as inspirational as a piss stain on a bathroom mat.


Being the most atheist of Britain’s major cities Aberdeen has rather brilliantly thrown up a never ending supply of derelict churches to the pub industry; Soul (an eerily vapid drinking experience somehow more sinister than even the most deviant Dracula incarnation) and The Priory (just shite really) join Slains in being the most prominent of these watering holes of worship.


And on the face of it Slains is great! It’s a gorgeous silver church with a huge cavernous interior filled to the brim with suitably morbid décor. Suits of armour, bookcases for doors, chandeliers, torture implements and horror paraphernalia are liberally strewn across the bars two floors of gothic glory. It’s a real feast for the eyes . . . just not the other senses. Aurally it’s about as scary as it can get for an intelligent human being, with a hideous barrage of commercial R&B and pop destroying any atmosphere that the undoubtedly top notch surroundings might have induced. Likewise the edible wares on offer are equally unpalatable, cheap gassy lager and lurid, weak, sugary cocktails are the drinks of choice at a bar so unimpressive it almost seems as if alcoholics anonymous are in charge of the purchasing.


Clientele wise it drips with nervy first year university students finally unleashed after an eternity suckling their mothers teat – here they wander round sheepishly trying to avoid the more seasoned yet equally sozzled assortment of ruffians.


Scary stuff indeed. So much so in fact I’ll let a Bram Stoker quote summarise a Saturday night in Salins . . .


“A horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal."


Couldn’t have put it better myself.



Photo by cvander

Thursday, August 7

PUB REVIEW: DOCKERS


by Dave Hynes

EDINBURGH

This is a real shit tip. The first thing you notice about Dockers is that even dockers don’t go there. Such a migration of customer loyalty away from a pub principally advertising its clientele so ostentatiously is usually the sign that it’s not a terrific outfit- and it isn't. In truth, Dockers needs to be knocked down and started again, maybe being rebranded as Porker’s and having a little titty bar on the side.

Apparently, there is a new phenomenon which has hit, most pertinently, those mobile juvenile delinquent pests who give Leith it’s self-perpetuating stock of fresh meat by, quite wrongly, having the capacity to disseminate population paste. I am of course referring to the Young Leith Troops (YLT.) who have begun a craze called ‘docking’. They ‘dock’ each other by rubbing their forskins together in the street like a kind of penishead-style thumb war. I didn’t, unfortunately, see much of this during my brief flirt with the Dockers but I did see someone who needed to be shot by a nobel prize winning assassin. The owner, a corpuscular middle aged lady who looks like an arm wrestling champion, was a whorish landlady who seems to prefer that her beloved cradle of a bar be a commercial disaster and a backhole for Calvinist torture chambers. She has a very obvious fear that outside lies people who may not be local and should therefore be kept at bay.

Apart from myself and the lovely landlady the pub was empty leaving me to assess the Dockers in all its vacuous glory. This is a shit pub of premiership quality and would certainly gain Champions League football next year, runs the Marksman into areas its never been taken before, just pipped by the fact I’ve been told the Marksman has two more fatalities per week than the Dockers- though I think most crime in the Dockers goes unreported or/and recycled into the stout pumps.

Think of a place you hate, open your eyes and voila, la Dockers

Monday, August 4

PUB REVIEW: THE WATERLOO


by Chris Hammond

EDINBURGH

War is hell so they say. But nobody ever tells you about the real curse of the battlefield, the deep wounds that never heal, the true scars left on the landscape . . . the military theme pub.


No I’m not writing about somewhere teaming with boozed up bare arsed squaddies, flaccid RAF layabouts and sexually deprived sailors; you can’t grudge them a pint and a night off making a royal twat of themselves, they’ve earned it more than any of us. I’m writing about the kind of place staffed by men who wouldn’t know a beer barrel from a gun barrel, the kind of place with tenuous links to great battalions or battles of the past, the sort of pub that looks like it’s innards have seen more action than Cromwell. I’m writing about places like The Waterloo just off Princes Street, Edinburgh.


Nestled just round from Leith Street (which happens to house the much more agreeable Black Bull), The Waterloo is an archaic tourist rammed skid mark on the underwear of the city. It’s rancid selection of beers (anyone for Tennants Ember? No?!), sterile soulless atmosphere, decaying wallpaper and crammed tinderstick like furniture makes a stay here about as comfortable, inviting and desirable as a hand job from Freddy Krueger. Here you can sit and listen to obese Americans pontificate on the merits of Burger King over Pizza Hut, enjoy children screaming and crying in the background whilst being unable to avoid eerily paper thin walls which leave every bowel movement in the infinitesimal pensioner crammed toilets completely audible.


Plastic soldiers from long since forgotten conflicts watch on as you ponder whether life slips away faster in here than it would have done on the eastern front circa 1945. It’s hard to tell really. Another pint of cyanide you say? Why the bloody hell not old boy!

Wednesday, July 30

BEER OF THE WEEK: VELTINS PILSNER


by Chris Hammond


There it was glistening like Excalibur in the fridge of my local Oddbins - a cheaper than chips session beer coming in at a bargain 6 bottles for five buck. Sweltering heat, increasingly tight deadlines and an overwhelming desire to let rip led me into purchasing a full 12 of these bad boys.


German brewed, tight, crisp tasting and almost gas free - Veltins is the perfect pilsner for procrastination, pissing about and productivity free periods of pleasure. I'd drink it like water if I could. If only the heat of summer had come earlier so I could have discovered this budget beer before the hordes of thirsty tourists hit Edinburgh to pillage the off licence's of their products. The delivery van comes Thursday I'm told . . . damn that's a whole fifteen hours before my next Veltins hit!

Monday, July 28

HALL OF FAME: THE THUNDERTON



by Chris Hammond



ELGIN


Nestled between Aberdeen and Inverness is the temperate, whisky soaked, supermarket saturated cathedral city of Elgin. It's a pretty place with a central European style square, nice architecture, plenty of greenery and a plethora of pubs; chief amongst these for quality being the historic Thunderton House.


The first thing worth mentioning about this traditional pub is that if the past gets you in a lather this place will give you a historical 'hard on'. Based in an ancient safehouse the building is renowned for hiding the fake Scottish Prince Bonnie Prince Charlie whilst he fled from the English during the 1700's. Inside today it boasts a fine wooden bar, working fireplace, plenty of seating, wide screens for sport and some of the most attentive bar staff you'll happen across anywhere in the country. There's also a ghost (naturally), bar meals, real ale and not even the slightest whiff of pushy barmen trying to sell the antiquated aspects to you in the same way more established city pubs would do with such a grand premises.


The clientle varies from Burtons clad RAF toss pots (there are two bases close by), stray tourists, boozy professionals, students with a buck or two to spare and a never ending roll call of increasingly indescribable regulars. It's fun, friendly, busy, warm and serves a decent pint what more could you ask for? Blowjob and a boogie? Try Downtown USA across the road . . .

Tuesday, July 22

BEER OF THE WEEK: COLONSAY LAGER


by Chris Hammond


Ever heard of Colonsay brewery? Because we hadn't and generally speaking. that isn't a good thing. Always looking to try something new we took the plunge and blasted one of these bad boys between us.

Not being one of the cheaper beers on the market and obviously produced in limited volumes, we were expecting some obvious marks of quality from this beer. Heavy in flavour, dark in colour and naturally tasty - Colonsay Lager is one of the best we've had in a while. Whilst it's too heavy to imbibe at length, its qualities make it a perfect beer for a meal. Soft, luxurious and with a tendency not to linger this is one of Scotland's unheralded gems.

More please!

PUB REVIEW: ALAN BRECK




by Dave Hynes



EDINBURGH




Twat meets cunt in an awesome way in the ultimate twatcunt collection ever. The greatest hits must include that classic by Allen Breck, Oh how woeful is my Pub. Never a truer lyric has been spat down or hollered since this is a truly woeful pub. Its such a shithole it has repelled any possible orthodox criticism based on conventions like safety, prettiness and style as far too obviously crude. When places like Allen Breck and the Marksman are this bad, to not find the positive is to not find the soul- thank goodness I’m home, this is a dive deserving of the title. And guess what me droogs? As always, one of the friendliest places on earth.


Pubs are an analogy of life. When they have nothing they look for the optimistic and when they seemingly have everything they act like twats. Allen Breck has nothing, but it does have a bit of character. A lonely bandit machine is about the only distinguishing feature of this barren landscape, other than a bar- which is probably to be expected. Looks like a renovated bingo hall without the renovation or the prospect of group activity. In Allen Breck, even just two unfortunate customers seems deemed to be a crowd and the landlord puts on a mighty display of hearty welcoming and invites you into a consensual debate about contemporary topics such as the meaning of life. These debates with customers are always consensual because he has the gleam of madness in his eye and when I asked for a Guinness he turned round, pants by his ankles and beer glass around his cock, and decried ‘ I just invented Frankenstein’. Good on you son, somebody had to.


Allen Breck is, of course, one to be avoided like the plague but this may be a double-edged sword. Like the old bubonic bacteria it’s just a wee bit contagious. There is a certain charm about the fact it’s so unassuming, understated ( there’s nothing to state really) and..erm charming. Going in Allen Breck can make you break out in a sweat and could lead to an outbreak if kept unchecked. It seems to have a healthy-ish loyalty of rank and file customers and its proximity to Leith Links means you get to see some of the rejects from Britain’s Got Prostitutes and Wankers and the also-rans from Nob Academy walking around in cheery desolation.


This is probably where the boys drafted up for the Somme used to drink and it was probably good practice for the atmosphere of death. But that’s what Allen Breck is, a relic from an increasingly forgotten age- long may you be an eyesore, long may you be that even more coveted award than a good pub, that rarest of beats, a likeable completely shit pub. Ignorance is bliss, and the fuckers in here don’t even know where Princes St is.

PUB REVIEW: LEITH DOCKERS CLUB


by Dave Hynes


EDINBURGH


Now the Leith Dockers Club may actually be worse than the Marksman, a hugely impressive feat in itself and especially considering their close proximity to each other. Reviewing the Dockers Club first entailed the question what on earth was it meant to be? Part concentration camp for Leith’s cretins, part asbo den for the cream of its renegades, part twat camp for its adolescent tribe the YLT, part palatial luxury for those who feel its gone too soft with all that bullshit about getting carpets and wallpaper and stuff, part breeding ground for Nasa projects and part brothel or at least site of rape for those females stupid enough to stay after six pm, the Dockers Club is a real melting pot of vices which is in a transitional point at the moment between its glorious past and uncertain future.


The drinks are dirt cheap, cheaper than Priscilla’s in fact. I think I got ten pints for six quid or something like that and even the punters were grumbling that a double whisky chaser will set them back 80p. It’s a bit like the interior of Notre Dame cathedral inside, as renaissance artwork gives the place such a reverent atmosphere. The sinners and saints flock here because they find bingo on Tuesday nights helps with confession.


I actually really like the Dockers Club. It’s a filthpit but so what? Real people, real prices, real pub all round. Good place for a first date to kick off actually, providing you don’t mind wanking into your pint glass as she finishes her knitting off.


Try and get yourself down on the weekends, it really comes alive with the sound of music. They were playing a group activity last Friday when I braved the Dockers Club with a new girl I’ve met. It looked like a cross between dominoes and bestiality but we took no notice and just carried on as usual. ‘ Cunt your tasty’ cried out one punter but he was talking to his pork scratching thankfully as both our hearts fluttered with the prospect this might be the first and last time either of us were together or even independently alive. When the macabre chorus of chainsaws started their dastardly symphony of gnashing teeth I felt insecure but they said it was just preparations for Sunday lunch. Phew!


Still, I was under no illusions it’s a pub full of cunts as they raped the pair of us on the pool table and started throwing darts in our eyes. I remember the last moments of consciousness as they were undergoing some kind of pagan ritual with my girl’s head used as the tap for draught, singing sea-shanties to the landlord’s fat daughter, and as I was skulled with a pool ball in a sock I tried to appeal to their rationality;


‘burning me won’t help your crops grow next year Mr Summerisle’ I scream but to no avail. They said I wasn’t local and that she was out my league anyway.


Be warned though, they are a selective bunch and business is booming so much they aren’t always open. Wow, now that’s chic.


Friday, July 18

FEATURE: THE ISOLATION OF ABERDEEN A DRINKERS DREAM



by Chris Hammond

Bleak, desolate, grey, wet, misty and teeming with dry, misanthropic oil rich goons – this is Aberdeen. Or at least that’s how many would have you believe the Granite city is these days. In truth it’s as buoyant and fun loving a city as any in Europe, with a night life second to none in terms of variety.


On a summers day the city sparkles in the sun. Glistening like diamond the Tollbooth, Castlegate and Marishcal College loom impressively on the horizon whilst the full grandeur of the relatively low rent Union Street is realised at the very least above shop level through the glorious spires, turrets, ramparts and architectural oddities on display. Nice place for a drink then?


Well yes and no. Aberdeen lacks any real outdoor drinking dens in the centre making summertime street drinking a tad problematic for tourist and local alike. In fact beer gardens are something the city completely lacks, with the charming Globe, brilliant Café 52 and the slightly out of the way student cesspit the Bobbin being the exceptions to the rule.


It’s the traditional pubs Aberdeen scores highly on. Unlike the tourist riddled Scottish capital Aberdeen’s more aged watering holes have survived commercial exploitation. Here an old style bar is just that, no razzmatazz, no t-shirts to buy and no huddled bands of fearful Japanese tourists. Good pints, friendly atmospheres and old school boozyness can be found best in classy Greyfriars, brilliant Prince Of Wales, legendary time capsule known as The Blue Lamp and the literally tiny Under The Hammer.


Trendy bars are however at a premium, and as a result the more conscientious drinker has suffered terribly since the loss of Estaminet a few years back. As a result beyond the aforementioned more traditional haunts much of the city centre is littered with absolute shit holes, infested with tubes, skanks and knuckle draggers. The worst of these horrors include the hellish Liquid, bland Wild Boar, hideously poorly staffed Revolution and gargantuan waste of space Chicago Rock Bar.


Unlike most of Scotland’s cities new pubs don’t tend to spring up in Aberdeen very often. But from the eclectic mayhem of the harbours Moorings and raucous Basement to the more civilised Ma Cameron’s there is a bar for every conceivable type of lush. Pack your bags get on the train and don’t expect to come back sober – this is Scotland’s insular gem and I wouldn’t have it any other way.


Thursday, July 17

PUB REVIEW: JOSEPH PEARCE

by Dave Hynes


EDINBURGH



I was expecting a nightmare on Elm Row, or at least a little pub of horrors having got a damning evaluation from a friend who lamented the fact his girlfriend drags him there often… Well here’s the good news… he’s no longer my friend since he obviously has no judgement at all.


Pierce your way through the technicolour furnishings and you find Joseph has got himself a decent old stable at the bottom of Elm Row. Light, airy, expansive and pleasant it gets busy during the weekends and is a great place to be with loads of pubs around in all directions.


Its also huge, as the pub seems to unfold into different rooms as you traverse its exceptionable bar. Joseph Pearce is part of the quartet of Swedish wonderbars adorning Leith which knows how to make its packages look perk ( the other three are the exceptionally vivid Boda, Sofi’s and Victoria). Again beautiful barmaids have swayed my judgement but they were added bonuses rather than necessary features.


Beer is relatively expensive but I’m afraid that’s the price Leith is going to have to pay for quality of this kind, otherwise its cheap thrills at shitholes like the Foot of the Walk- and at least this way you don’t have to pay for psychiatric help afterwards.


Joseph Pearce acts like a beacon at the top of the versatile Leith Walk, Edinburgh’s answer to the Champs Elysee, and like the Arc de Triomph its well worth the hike. Stylish, upmarket and bohemian it looks set to do very well for itself. Get your oars out Leithers and row yourself to where the Elms grow wild, my mate Joe got a sunny little boozer which is well worth a visit.

HALL OF FAME: SOFI's

by Dave Hynes

EDINBURGH


Sofi’s is absolutely brilliant. Part of the distinguished Swedish quartet of pubs which adorn Leith, this one has a particular charm all of its own. Take a sofa at sofi’s, it may or may not be gay friendly but this is not so obvious and no obstacle to having a great time in this charming, cute, delicate little boozer which seems so incongruously set against its fairly hideous background of Leith’s banana flats. It is surrounded by a wild bunch of pubs on Henderson St and it epitomises the leaps and bounds that the new face of Leith has become over the last few years.


Hip and chic, it has become one of the trendiest places to drink in Leith. It’s clear to see why because it literally is unlike any other pub. More like a dream than the harsh reality of places like Wilkies and Anderson’s, entering Sofi’s is like stepping into another world, one which is more chilled and boozy. Pink curtains ( I think it might be gay friendly) cascade down light blue pastel walls, with a series of small arches in the ceiling. It’s a great looking pub and very European. I tried to hold my breath in as I walked in lest I blew it away from Leith and into its more seemly setting like Morningside. I was also worried about the bum-boys but they seemed passive enough.


Now I wouldn’t quite say Sofi’s was a flower of light in a field of darkness because it is very close to the luxury of the Shore. Still, Henderson St is quite rough and this is the daintiest little boozer on earth, quixotic in its arrangement and character. The bar staff are an imaginative lot and very friendly; they have recreated moments from famous films and decorated the bar- and its quite quirky and funny. The horseshoe bar makes the most of the space and in truth it’s a real delight to be inside. A splendid wine rack graces the top of the bar. Candles, yes candles, make this a true fairytale place so I recommend you stay and get pissed and see if the women are lezzies or not



Sofi’s has proved a revelation in Leith’s drinking culture and has successfully turned a deeply working-class area of Leith into its answer to Soho. I can’t imagine a fight ever breaking out, just a few handbags lobbed in protest whilst wearing vicar costumes. Top draw nonetheless, should have been called The New Leith because it really is the piece de resistance of the movement to get Sickboy, Spud and Renton out.


HALL OF SHAME: JAN'S BAR


by Dave Hynes


EDINBURGH


Well this part of Leith, despite its proximity to the Shore, is absolutely dog poo and nowhere encompasses this contrast more than Jan’s Bar- the doggiest of little canine droppings, urinating on Maritime Street to mark its territory of criminal activity and stake its claim as probably even more uninviting than The Marksman.


I don’t think Jan’s Bar is Dutch and I think you would probably be killed if you wore anything distinctly orange in Leith, but there is something continental about it- like the punters attitude for waiting in a queue for the busy toilets and the fact the barman only serves you once he’s certain he’s exhausted all chances of coitus with the underage teens.


I’d recommend taking a few vaccinations before you go, there is a five inch nail on the toilet seat covered in blood for a start. They were changing the barrels when I went in and I think I heard the yelps of the last Health and Safety officer as he was rolled over by one of them in the cellar. For a start it is an ugly pub for ugly people. Particularly unfriendly by day it turns into a no-holds barred pub for drunken fights by night. Average life expectancy in this pub rarely runs beyond twenty minutes and I think it would be cavalier to ask the punters if they could tone it down a bit to hear the forthcoming forecast for test match at Lord's. I saw an incredible array of battle wounds in this dive and a particularly impressive scar running down the left cheek of a big boy delicately balancing on his stool. It sounded like ‘feck yous’ but I think I heard him murmur something about the difficulties of attributing the information society its post-manufacturing niche given the delicacies of our postmodern environment.


Wednesday, July 16

FEATURE: THE BATTLE OVER LEITH'S BOOZERS

by Dave Hynes

There’s something strange happening in Leith’s pub culture at the moment. In fact, it’s been happening over the last ten years but what started out as a few brave attempts to give Leith newly-refurbished and redecorated modern bars has now developed into a full frontal attack on Leith’s traditional drinking dens.

There are still countless nods to the Leith of old; dark, dingy dungeonesque pubs still populate much of Leith Walk and Great Junction St. Most haven’t changed in years and you see brazen-faced septuagenarians smoking outside them, as though they were gatekeepers to the old secrets of Leith’s watering-holes. They stubbornly refuse to submit to the gastro pub fever which has begun to infect Leith. Most of them are for drinking only and they are exclusively locals-oriented rather than all-welcoming. These pubs reflect the Leith of old; drinking dens which helped sustain the stereotype of Leith as the sick man of Edinburgh. Epitomised by the likes of Balfour’s, The Spey Lounge, The Dalmeny as well as the unforgivably derelict Marksman, their aim is clear- renovation equates to devastation. For the publicans and punters alike these pubs offer familiarity and escape from a community in flux.


So what of the new bars with their laminate-floored, airy, light and spacious preoccupation with all things miniaturist? Many of these new bars, like Sofi’s, Boda Bar, Victoria and a host of others which populate the ever-changing Shore area of Leith reveal the new chapters in this community’s drinking culture. They seem gay-friendly, overtly trendy, with an emphasis on cocktails, wine lists, food offerings and act as vehicles for marketing brands of exotic beers. They are of an altogether faster pace than their old Leith counterparts, harbouring young yuppies and businessmen on working lunches and after work pints. They combine to make Leith feel the most alive and urbane part of Edinburgh to live and drink in.


So Leith’s drinking culture has become polarised into two camps- the old and the new- with very little crossover and customer loyalty tending towards either rather than both camps. No where is this contrasting ambivalence more pronounced than on Henderson St where the delicate pastel blue, pink-curtained Sofi’s sits proudly under the banana flats and next to Wilkies, The Trafalgar and Anderson’s- three very rough pubs. Just round the corner lies the hip Waterline and very suave Bar Diesel. The contrast is uncanny and a symbolic testament to the extent Leith’s pub culture has both changed and remained the same.


Leith’s pub culture is its barometer for wider changes in the community; trams, expensive housing redevelopments and corporate investment mean that Leith’s face will be unrecognisable to those who remember Sick Boy, Renton and Spud heading down to the Volunteer Arms to help their heroin-induced comedowns. What Leith will gain from this new chique gastro pub culture- affluence, class, panache, she will surely also lose something too; her roots and her soul.


Will Leith Walk become the next George St? The battle over Leith’s boozer’s rages on and the odds have never been higher.


Photo by photojenni

BEER OF THE WEEK: SIERRA NEVADA PALE ALE

by Chris Hammond


We like our pubs here at The Scottish Pub Guide, but more importantly we like our beer. Because the beer is half of what makes a pub great isn’t it? So every week The Scottish Pub Guide will be choosing a beer we’ve been getting well acquainted with as our pick of the past seven days.


This weeks offering is Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. It’s an absolutely stunning US import; hoppy, unbelievably crisp and so good it’ll kill off any lingering ‘American beer is rubbish’ stereotypes after the first sip. It’s an any day all day sort of beer just as easily quaffable with corn flakes as it is with carbonara.


Highly recommended.

BREWERY FOCUS: BREWDOG


by Chris Hammond

I recently interviewed Brewdog co-founder James Watt for Instant Magazine and I can say without any reservation that the beer he’s making is set to take the world by storm.


The whole ethos behind Scotland’s latest brewery is a breath of fresh air. They are making some of the tastiest, most challenging craft lagers, stouts and speciality beers in the UK. James told me that he wanted to:


“continue pushing the boundaries and to expose as many people to actual proper beer as we can . . . This is such a raw brand. This is not a manufactured, committee produced concept. This is martin and myself, two 25 year olds trying to take on industry giants. We are edgy, aggressive and underground - we have no marketing department to answer to and are happy to say what we think, make the beers we like and market them in the way we want to.”


Amongst the delights the duo have on offer are the whisky tinged Paradox, the supremely quaffable Punk IPA and Hop Rocker my personal favourite. I’m expecting big things of Brewdog and hopefully the next year will see them expand to a level where not only are they making great beer but they are making great beer that everyone is drinking.


Catch next months Instant Magazine for the full low-down on Brewdog or alternatively check out their website and purchase some of their fantastic beer online.



http://www.brewdog.com

Monday, June 23

FIRST PINT . . .

Evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the first post on The Scottish Pub Guide. We aim to be the most comprehensive unbiased guide to the best and worst places to drink in Scotland. Look out for our first reviews in the days to come along with interviews and feature pieces soon to follow.


Creators Chris Hammond and Dave Hynes are experienced young journalists and are available for freelance commisions worldwide, so if you like what you read feel free to get in touch with us at scottishpubs@googlemail.com


Further writing samples available on request.


Cheers.