IN DE WILDEMAN – AMSTERDAM

FOURTH VISIT: MONDAY 30 JUNE 2014

THIRD VISIT: SATURDAY 28 JUNE 2014

SECOND VISIT: FRIDAY 27 JUNE 2014

FIRST VISIT: THURSDAY 26 JUNE 2014

Wildeman

Advertisements

CRAFT BEER CO (CLERKENWELL) – LONDON

Craft Beer Co.
Leather Lane
London
EC1N 7TR

FIRST VISIT: MONDAY 5 MAY 2015

An old fashioned bar with a thoroughly modern beer list. A very interesting space: a huge mirror covers most of the ceiling, defunct brewery mirrors occupies most of the wall space and the Craft Beer Co. branded wallpaper is a nice, but perhaps a tad self indulgent, touch. There’s an upstairs room but I’ve never been up there.

When I arrived there was only two other people present: the server and an old dude who was supping a pint of Kent Pale. The sever said hi and smiled then remained mute until I had made my selection. Once upon a time the beer selection in Craft really excited me. This was the first place I had a beer by Mikkeller (Monk’s Elixir) and the first place that I had a beer by Nøgne Ø (#100). But today I looked at the taps and felt a little underwhelmed. Perhaps I was just feeling fatigued thanks to three days of excellent drinking. Or perhaps I’ve moved on since those early days and now need an extra special thrill before I feel any level of excitement. Or perhaps I just lament the fact that Mikkeller is no longer available in Craft Beer Co. outlets and therefore I can no longer drink the sublime Clerkenwell lager. I ordered a pint of the Magic Rock & Lervig Farmhouse IPA. I’d had it before a few times. It’s pretty decent. I sat down and perused the bottle list. Even that seemed lacklustre compared to previous visit. Craft Wanker Syndrome. The old dude bought another pint of the Kent. The server served him with a smile and a thank you then returned to tapping away at a phone. My beer was gone so I returned to the bar and ordered a half of the De Struise Imperialist (an imperial pilsner that clocks in at 8%) and a scotch egg. The beer was okay. It tasted like a pilsner but didn’t have the glory glory of a Mikkeller pilsner. Even the scotch egg seemed like a poor man’s version of the ones I used to enjoy within these walls. Ach, perhaps it’s just me.