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!

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 . . .

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.

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.

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.

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