Consolation goal

As Liverpool are languishing in mid-table mediocrity and are out of everything that matters (although it was great to see them trounce Benfica) I have to get my footballing pleasures where I can. Wanting them to reach the coveted fourth spot has made things a little weird - I even found myself supporting Arsenal over Spurs this morning. Very odd.

Apart from praying that the England players don't get injured before the World Cup and hoping that by some peculiar twist of fate Burnley manage to stay up, my main enjoyment comes from rejoicing in Manchester Utd's misfortunes. I'm pleased they don't look like they can win the league or the Champions League (they won't overtake us on either score). My how I laughed when I found this Lego reconstruction of Robben's goal that sent them out of the Champions League. Who said the German's don't have a sense of humour? (Well, apart from me and the rest of Europe...)

My newest favourite thing: Amisfield

To be fair, it’s probably not that new, because I’ve liked Amisfield for a while (frequently showing it off to our guests), but we went there for dinner last night and it sparked off a whole new appreciation.

The building is a fabulous design whose handsome schist walls, copper roof, redwood beams and clean, sloping lines reflect the early colonial cottages of the region. Nestled beside Lake Hayes, a single sheet of glass affords one of the most spectacular views across the Central Otago landscape, while the crackling wood fires keep things cosy.

We had opted for the ‘Trust the chef menu’ in which we are assured of exquisite dishes with fresh ingredients and subtle sauces so as not to overwhelm the flavour of the magnificent produce.

The staff were friendly, helpful, and knowledgeable: they matched wines for us; joked about our accents (the English chap was delighted to be able to offer us aubergines rather than eggplants); and pleasantly took the photo of the large group at the table next to us.

We began the night with bubbles, as you do. The Arcadia brut is one of the best sparkling wines I have ever drunk and one of my favourite ways to celebrate a special occasion. Our dishes arrived at our table on pewter-looking plates that made us feel as though we were at a medieval banquet.

To begin, we had whitebait lightly dusted in flour and then gently fried, served with rocket leaves and sourdough bread. This was followed by a plate of Parma ham, shavings of parmesan, and leaves of fragrant basil. The salmon with wilted greens, tomatoes and pine nuts continued the fishy theme and went superbly with a flinty Dry Riesling. The blend of citrus and spice cut cleanly through the fish oils and enhanced the experience perfectly.

We also had a plate of roasted aubergines, chickpeas, tomato, tahini and mint to share which was a simply delicious explosion of flavours. The pinot gris was sublime matched with the mini pot-roast chicken served with feta and tapenade. Side dishes of mixed leaves and the creamiest mashed potato you have ever tasted complemented the complex but subtle ‘each peach pear plum’ notes detected in the wine.

The portions were enough that we were satisfied but not satiated and, as neither of us are really pudding people, we finished off with a selection of the three desert wines. My favourite was the Lake Hayes Noble which was rich and sweet with a lemony zing that had me licking my lips all the way home.

I really enjoy this style of eating – it’s like tapas but the chef chooses whatever is freshest and best. There is no danger that you won’t like anything (you are asked about any dislikes or allergies at the beginning) so you can sit back, relax and know that you will be served the most sumptuous of treats.

Books read in November

Below are short reviews of the books that I read in November 2009. The numbers in the brackets are the marks I have given them out of five.

The Icarus Girl – Helen Oyeyemi (3.3)
Jessamy Harrison, born to a British father and Nigerian mother, is a bright, intelligent girl but prone to violent tantrums, fierce illnesses and an inability to cope with social situations. In an effort to counter the disruptive tendencies, her parents take her to stay with her family in Nigeria where she meets TillyTilly on her grandfather’s compound. Delighted to have made friends with such a captivating character, Jess only begins to realise there may be something suspicious when TillyTilly follows her home to England, no one else can see her, and bad things start happening.

Jess is an intense girl with strange ideas and big fears of the unknown. Many children retreat into their imagination but Jess’ mind does not seem like a safe place to be. She is afraid to open her mind to people and air her worries; unwilling to relinquish any perceived control, she builds her own isolation. Clear, taut prose creates a chilling and unsettling atmosphere, while the mixture of Christian ritual and Nigerian superstition heightens the sense of cultural dislocation.

It is a debut novel and there are still some immature devices and unrefined elements. The first-person child narration hampers character development, while the repetitive and slightly predictable structure is not entirely satisfactory. However, both the substance and style make this young author one to watch for the future.

Press Pass: 40 Years of Award-Winning Press Photography – Geoff Dale (3.8)
The subtitle of this book of black and white photographs is ‘the critical moments that make the news… and how to capture them.’ The last part of that sentence is essential because, although the book does provide a social commentary of New Zealand over the past 40 years, it is also of interest to budding amateur photographers as each image includes details of the photographic settings such as exposure, focal length, shutter speed, and aperture width.

The book is divided into six sections: awards; news; features; portraits; sports; photojournalism. The portraits are an eclectic mix of faces familiar to New Zealanders, including Roger Douglas, Kelly Tarlton, Dame Whina Cooper, David Lange, Keisha Castle Hughes, and Rod Stewart. The news covers events ranging from the Mt Erebus crash or the sinking of the Rainbow Warrior to the Auckland blackout or the Queen Street riots.

My favourites are probably the sports photos. It is very hard to capture an instant and in fact, he says that the photo of the celebration often makes a better shot than the actual scoring of a try or the taking of a wicket. Persistence, patience and preparation are crucial. He provides explanations of technique – how to capture motion and blur the background; how a telephoto lens can give a shortening effect; how to light a shot at night or use an exterior flash.

 Dale took up photography after a knee injury stopped him playing rugby – a game he still loves – although working for a photo-agency he needs to take the photos the customers want, which are often of themselves, rather than of the match itself – it’s not all fun and games.

As a journalist for the New Zealand Herald for 28 years before becoming a freelance journalist, Dale admits the job is both a great honour and a daunting responsibility, allowing you to have a “front row seat at major events in the history of your country.” He explains that despite unprecedented access, you are still bound by deadlines, integrity and protocol.

A great photo is the difference between a story appearing on the front page or page 12, but newspaper photographers are seeing their specialist role eroded by ‘citizen journalists’ and lack of payment. This book shows what will be lost if this movement persists – the photographer’s art is a fine one, indeed and Geoff Dale is a great proponent of it.

The Pillars of Hercules: A Grand Tour of the Mediterranean – Paul Theroux (3.8)
One of the Pillars of Hercules is the rock of Gibraltar; the other is the rock on the other side of the straits – Ceuta in Morocco – apparently flung there by Hercules as his tenth labour. Paul Theroux aims to travel from one to the other the long way round, all around the shores of the Mediterranean coast – the shores of light. Following this inland sea gives him an itinerary predetermined by the coastline, and he discovers that the towns and people along the shore have more in common with each other than they do with people from other parts of their country.

 Theroux is not above generalisations. The Spanish are “both very polite and very curious” while the Corsicans are proud. “The more generous and extrovert Italians were full of compliments.” The Greeks are “ill-tempered and irrational”; the Israelis are “gruff, on the defensive, rather bullying, graceless and aggrieved, with a kind of sour and gloating humour”; the French are racist.

Descriptions of countries are equally succinct and often one-dimensional. He is obsessed by pornography and bullfighting in Spain, and dog mess on the pavements in France. Greece is “an awful place, of glum grey tenements and wrecked cars and rough treeless hills of solemn stone.” He claims to have no interest in politics but he has much to say about the small countries with the big ideals and the recent wars; Albania and Israel attract his severest criticism.

He likes Corsica with its “cold days of dazzling sunshine, its cliffs of glittering granite, the blue sky after a day of drizzle, its lonely roads.” He praises the Riviera as being the epitome of the Mediterranean dream. He can drift off on tangents and his prose can become almost whimsical. When he likes a place, he can veer off into flights of fancy, such as Venice which he describes as “the loveliest city in the world. It is man-made, but a work of genius, sparkling in its own lagoon, floating on its dreamy reflection, with the shapeliest bridges and the last perfect skyline on earth: just domes and spires and tiled roofs.” Trieste on the other hand is simply, “A city of suits, a businesslike place with an air of solidity and prosperity.”

He travels alone because he has no fixed plans and changes his destination on a whim, but lack of a travel companion can make him feel lonely and he occasionally misses the normality of routine. He frequently mentions that he did his laundry and wrote up his notes. Knowing the personal details and the mechanics of the travel experience gives us a sense that we are there too, but it is also intrusive.

Grace – Linn Ullmann (3.4)
Johan has terminal cancer. He wants to exit the world with dignity so he asks his second wife, Mai, to help him when the time comes. When the time does come, however, he wonders whether he has made the right choice, why she agreed to do it, and why she is wearing new clothes and make-up for the first time as though waiting for him to die so that she can move on.

From diagnosis to death is a short space of time and Ullman captures the fear and impotence of palliative care. In this slender volume things happen with the swiftness of degenerate disease. Although he hasn’t got the strength to write them down, Johan has many memories, “rushing back now, like children demanding attention.”

He thinks of his first wife, Alice, and their son Andreas. He thinks of Mai as she brushes her hair with one hundred strokes every night. But most of all he thinks of his mother and his life with her as a child, from their daily summer walks to look for wild strawberries, to the magical mystery of Christmas Eve. When she was sick, he bargained with Death to take his father rather than his mother, and when she recovers but his father dies, Johan is at pains to explain to Death that this is “no small sacrifice.”

Expertly translated from the Norwegian by Barbara Haveland, the prose is sparse but efficient and packed with meaning and the memories and anecdotes are introduced without blandishment. It’s short, it seems simple, but it is ultimately compelling and Johan will haunt you long after you have finished reading his story.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society – Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows (4.6)
Generally I avoid books that claim to be delightful or charming as they are usually sentimental pap, but this really is as enjoyable as they say. It contains all the ingredients I like in a novel: epistolary form – check; discussions of books – check; island mentality – check; Occupied Territory during the war – check. In fact the only reason it doesn’t get top marks is because it introduces the infernal Jane Austen/Mr Darcy angle and threatens to become chick lit in the final pages.

It has been likened to 84 Charring Cross Road due to the correspondence between people who don’t know each other but meet due to a shared love of books. When Dawsey Adams buys a second-hand copy of Charles Lambs’ essays, he finds Juliet Ashton’s name and address in the front cover and decides to write to her asking if she can recommend him some more books.

Juliet is a writer trying to find a new subject for a book, and what better topic than the characters who live on Guernsey and survived the German Occupation. She discovers that they began a book club as cover for a pig dinner –and had to fill in the details to make it look realistic. Juliet interviews the members of this society by letter until she decides to visit them in person in May 1946 and discovers a host of quirky characters with unbreakable spirits.

In letters to her publisher and friends, she records the deprivation the islanders suffered as tales of domestic hardship became a fact of life. She feels great sympathy for those who had to make the terrible decision of whether to evacuate their children to England to live among strangers (they weren’t allowed to contact them or even know where they were staying for security reasons) or whether to keep them in Guernsey with the threat of German invasion – they had a day to decide.

Juliet has firm opinions on writing and romance – you know that things between her and her illustrious suitor, Mark, are doomed because he doesn’t understand the appeal of Guernsey and because, “Mark doesn’t write, he telephones.” It’s old-fashioned and a little bit twee, but sweet and comforting, to be read with a cup of tea and a biscuit.

Off with her head!

Mary Stuart
Circa, February 27 – April 3


In 1587 Elizabeth I of England signed the warrant that led to the death of her cousin, Mary Stuart. That much is recorded as fact; most of the rest of this three-hour intense drama is conjecture. Originally written in 1800 by Johann Christoph Fredrich von Schiller, this 2006 adaptation by David Harrower brings many of the political concerns into the contemporary climate.

Coincidentally, this show premiered at the National Theatre of Scotland, just as Black Watch had done before it came to these shores and blew audiences away at the previous New Zealand International Arts Festival. Sadly, this is not in the same class. Although the drama is good, the directing assured (Ross Jolly) and the acting fine, it is not as excellent as it needs to be to hold the attention. A lot of back-story and history is crammed into the dialogue and it needs highly-skilled practitioners to execute it well (pun entirely intended) if they are not to sound like an amateur historian at a debating society.

The times were treacherous; rumours were rife and suspicion led to death. The claustrophobic atmosphere is enhanced by a sparse set with pillars which provide peepholes to hide behind, and the edges of the stage in shadow – perfect to hatch conspiracies. The espionage, bluff and double-bluff is all conducted like a fatal game of chess where the stakes are as high as the pikes on Tower Bridge.

The play centres around the two women – Mary and Elizabeth – and pivots around an imagined meeting. Mary (Tina Retigen) is cut off from the world with no news and a Puritan guard, Sir Paulet (Nick Blake in an admirable restrained performance); ‘an honest man’ with overtones of Iago as he stands by and eavesdrops. The three central black columns and severe wooden pews that define her world are transformed through lighting (design by Ulli Briese) to a sumptuous throne or an elaborate altar as the colourscape ranges from austere light to golden glow, royal purple and blood red.

Elizabeth (Carmel McGlone) is surrounded by quarrelling men as she struggles to deal with the allegations and counter-accusations. Unsure whether to listen to her heart or her judgement, she is equally isolated. We feel her anguish as she stammers, “I don’t know what to say; I don’t know who to believe. I think you’re guilty; I hope you’re not.” The talk is of innuendo, rumour, martyrs and propaganda. Elizabeth knows that, “Public opinion will invariably side with the accused” and she feels alone: “The Pope against me; betrayed by France’s Judas kiss; and Spain wages war against me on the sea.”

The spymasters whisper in her ear and she is constantly provoked by people’s demands and entreaties. The court wants her to marry to share the burden of rule and to provide an heir to the throne, but she protests, “A ring signifies marriage and yet it is from rings that chains are made.” Robert Dudley (a wonderfully manipulative Aaron Alexander) may be her closest confidant and potential lover and yet even his questionable affections are demonstrably eleswhere. Elizabeth is finally left alone on stage in a spotlight; abandoned to her conscience and history as her judge.

While talking of imprisonment, both queens stare out longingly towards the audience – we feel that we represent freedom; we are also the jury and the electorate. Hounded to make a decision over whether Mary Stuart will live or die, Elizabeth cries, “I am my people’s slave, ruling in servitude. Is this the voice of the people? Is this the voice of all the world? What happens when they charge and condemn me?” Elizabeth is connected to the land of her people and when she beats the ground with her hands, she draws strength from it. Mary, by contrast, stamps petulantly upon it.

For one to live the other must die, and their meeting is charged with anguish. Mary kneels at Elizabeth’s feet in an outward show of passion but finds Elizabeth to be, “like a rock, harsh and unyielding”. Although she states, “I renounce all claim to this throne. Give me back my life, my liberty”, Mary taunts Elizabeth with her illegitimate birth.

The fear or Catholicism was strong and Mary makes no attempt to hide her rosary or her crucifix, “Carrying Christ in her hand as pride and lust burn in her heart.” Elizabeth worries that she is the figurehead for a French or Spanish plot to depose her, asking, “What lock can win your loyalty that cannot be unlocked by St Peter’s keys?” This was no mere theological whimsy as Elizabeth makes clear with her barbed reminder, “Your uncle taught me massacre on St Bartholomew’s Day” (when at least 10,000 French Protestants were ordered to be massacred by the Catholic mob).

A semi-circle of male advisors (well represented by different ages and characteristics) forms around them as the contretemps becomes a cat-fight with each trying to prove that she is more desirable and humiliate the other. Mary’s appeal was largely based on her looks and powers of persuasion, “Her influence on men’s minds is too strong.” She is seductive but dangerous and Elizabeth reminds her, “no one wants to be your fourth husband”.

With so few other weapons in their armoury, neither is above using her womanly wiles to get her way. Tina Retigen (as Mary Stuart) has breathing issues, often running out of breath before she finishes her sentences, and recites her lines with a self-conscious declamatory style. She says, “I can’t move so quickly from misery to hope” and it’s true that she can’t, at least not convincingly.
 

Carmel McGlone (as Elizabeth I) is far more natural in both speech and action. She looks the part with her regal bearing, tempestuous mood swings and expansive gestures. Elizabeth was famously proud of her fine hands and long fingers, and McGlone waves her arms like a tree in the wind or a spider in its web. When she signs the death warrant she exclaims, “The arrow has left the bow and flown to its mark” and her hands flutter through the air; elsewhere they are pressed together in supplication, prayer or applause.

Hands implicate personal responsibility and there is a touch of the Lady MacBeths about Elizabeth as she attempts to keep her royal hands free from the taint of blood, “Free from doubt, free from guilt, let the people choose.” When she gives the death warrant to Davison (Gavin Rutherford in fine form) she instructs him, “Take it with you; I have placed it in your hands; God’s business is in your trembling hands.” Aware of the weight of the document, Davison falls to his knees and the equivocation over the delivery of the death warrant adds an element of macabre comedy.

Although the drama is firmly focused on this specific moment in history, it has wide-reaching implications. The madrigal music that opens the play instantly transports us back to sixteenth-century England, while the closing bagpipes might be considered either an elegiac call or a triumphant procession. The costumes (designed by Gillie Coxhill) are a curious mix of mob caps and modern dress; capes and feathered hats are worn with double-breasted suits to show a blend of eras. Some of the gestures are also contemporary, such as the mocking bows and the flippant insincerity.

David Harrower’s adaptation is non-too subtle with lines such as “An Englishman will never show a Scotsman justice” getting a knowing laugh in performance. Mary’s argument is that the accused must be judged by a jury of equals, “And who are my equals?” This is a basic tenet of English law and Lord Burleigh (Jeff Kingsford-Brown with an unfathomable accent) notes, “For someone who claims not to be bound by English laws, you know a lot about them.” As do all renegades and underdogs.

Despite their warring factions, the countries have many similarities; “The narrow Tweed is all that separates us and often runs red with our soldiers’ blood.” The suggestion is made that these wars and conflicts will never end until the two parliaments are joined (which they were in 1707, but devolved nearly 300 years later in 1998). Occasionally the patriotic tub-thumping jars, especially when the characters talk of Britain – there was no Britain until the first Act of Union in 1707 which politically united the Kingdom of England (which included Wales) with the Kingdom of Scotland.

Perhaps the moral of the story is embodied in the words of Lord Shrewsbury (Eddie Campbell) who cautions “The most votes do not mean it is right. The present England is not the future England or the past England.” The inference is that rather than hankering back to historic insults, we should all just move on and stop reopening old wounds; a theory that has resonance in New Zealand politics also.

The Chorus Line

No smell of greasepaint or roar of the crowd,

Just scent of the earth and whisper of wind

As it pushes rudely past, blowing up their skirts

And they whisper indignantly as they waltz and whirl.

They wait in the wings, gaggling and chittering,

Nervously twitching and tweaking the curtain.

When they explode on stage in a riot of colourful costume

They will give the performance of their life.

The audience expects. It has been a fabulous show.

We have been spellbound by the spectacle;

We have watched them grow, their characters unfurled,

Developed and enthralled us; every one a star.

Here they come now; high kicks and pirouettes.

Copacabana. The Moulin Rouge.

Clad in scarlet, russet, vermilion and gold,

Dancing with grace, beauty and elegance.

We want to stand to applaud but it’s too hard to see.

The lights dim and suddenly there is silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the leaves have left the branches.

Thank you very much. They’ll be back next year.”

My newest favourite thing: Quelf

When friends were down in Queenstown the other week we went round to their house for drinks and laughter. Of course, we began by catching up on the gossip and dreams of everyone there; how some had come true and others were still distant visions. To stop things from getting serious, as they can occasionally, we played a game to keep the entertainment factor high.

We played Quelf, although not exactly as intended. I believe there is a board and dice and little characters that you can move around as you progress or take backward steps. We just used the cards in the pack and took it in turns to pick one.

Some of the cards are straight-forward true or false, or trivia questions - which are actually very easy. These are kind of the relief squares.

There is also a category called Scatterbrain which requires you to pick one of two topics and hope that not everyone in the room can think of something different under the heading (such as lipstick names or thigns that you wear on your hand) - because that means you win.

Of course, it's all about making a fool of yourself, or laughing at your friends who are doing just that. One of the categories asks you to mime, sing, act, or (my most testing of all) interpretative dance! Marching and saluting while whistling a merry martial tune was particularly difficult - it's harder than you would think to laugh and whistle at the same time.

The best category, however, is the one which gives you a bizarre rule or stunt to follow. Someone had to make their belly button talk, someone else had to laugh whenever anyone else did. At the same time someone had to slap her thighs every time someone laughed and say, 'whacka, whacka, whaka'. Her thighs were red by the end of her round - everyone was laughing so much. It doesn't sound so funny when it's written down, so you should just try it.

I had to point at people and say 'I have you now' each time I made eye contact. This led to laughter (which led to more laughter and whacked thighs). Each time someone spoke to me I had to salute and say 'Yes, sir!' or 'Yes, maam!' depending on the gender. Andra had to hold her tongue whenever she said anything. Often many of these things all happened at once, which really did lead to much hilarity.

It is the sort of game that you have to play with people who are just a little bit extroverted and not too precious about letting go - I'm sure it makes no sense when you're sober and probably isn't half as much fun. How would I know?

The Seventh Blackhurst Beer Festival (Part Two)

Beer Number Six - Arrow Brewing Co, Tobin's Ale

The Arrow Brewing Company (launched in December 2008 by five ‘craft beer enthusiasts) was as good a reason to return to Arrowtown as any. The brewery is approximately 1.3km from door to door which is particularly handy. This is a traditional English style ale with strong hop characters. I like it and have drunk a lot of it already to make my point.

Comments:

Big taste; malty; oven roasted
Time and micro-organisms were involved
Single malt
Strong hop-flavoured bitter
Bitter with lots of anti-bacterial hops – eeuuw
Aha, proper beer – pleasing maltiness; very drinkable
Amber nectar
A well-rounded little number with a beautiful amber glow
Lightly flavoured; will keep well
Bile vile; extremely bitter with malt undertones

I like this beer a lot so was personally disappointed that it only came 7th with 34 points. Oh well, I can't force people to like the beer that I do...

Beer number seven - Green Man Best Bitter (4.5%)

The Green Man Brewery in Dunedin is named after the Green Man, oddly enough; an old folk-fertility symbol, said to represent the essence of nature itself. Hedonistic and ritualistic, the pagan figure dies each year in November and is reborn on 1st May. The brewery website claims, ‘He is found in the spirit of the trees, and his presence can be felt around you, in the bush… He is in orgies on the hillside, riots in the street, the celebrations of plenty, and the privations of crop failure. He is in inebriation, orgasm, trance and possession. His eyes typically do not focus, and his image is part comforting and part worrying, like the force he represents.’ Sounds like a drunken old hippy to me – hurrah!

Brewed to strictly organic standards (with no additives, sugar or isinglass – a fish product often used to clear beer), the Best Bitter is even suitable for vegans! It is crafted after an authentic English style of ale with deep copper colour, intense hop character and lingering bitterness. The brewers boast that “Green Man Best Bitter is the taste of Olde England.” Start waving those hankies and shaking those bells!

Comments:
Celtic – aaaaargh!
Would go nice with beer
Dark mutterings
Aftershave
You Northern monkey!
Harrington’s malty something?
Malty moderate texture
Something darkish, a bit bitter and a tad malty; Speight’s Distinction?
Sweet and malty with hops
Classic beer; fresh on the front palate with a brave aftertaste

A reasonable score for this beer on the night - 43 points put it in fourth place.

Beer number eight - Tuatara India Pale Ale (5%)

The mission statement of this brewery is to “reclaim beer values”. In all their beer they insist on using traditional methods and authentic malts. They believe that craft beer is endangered and, as such, the tuatara is a fitting motif: “We relate to the little guy; he’s gone along doing things in his own deliberate patient way – and has so far outlasted all his bigger relations by quite a few million years.” Tuatara brewery has a long way to go, with only eight years of brewing, but is already building up an impressive reputation.

In 2008 Tuatara won Best Brewery at the Brew NZ Awards. They also won best IPA. The brewery is located just north of Wellington and their beers are always on tap at The Malthouse (which was our local when we lived there – can you detect a theme?). When I last saw the head brewer he had just singed off his eyebrows by experimenting with too many hops for his kiln. They must be the only brewery in the modern world not to have a website. They do their marketing by word of mouth. I like them.

Comments:
I’m at a loss for w...
Like my last wife; works well, slightly rubbery, or is that my lips?
Hoppy and a little bitter
Hopsy strong aftertaste
Bitter with lots of anti-bacterial hops – am I repeating myself?
This is the nicest one so far
A lot hoppier on the nose, handier in the hand and kind to the mind
Guess – pure guess; Celtic – wrong?

This was our silver medal beer, coming 2nd with 48 points.

The sky continued to glow as the beer continued to flow.

Beer number nine - Dux Brewing Company Nor'wester (6.5%)

I’ve forgotten many a Christchurch afternoon on this stuff. It’s a traditional strong ale that is aptly named after the strong warm winds that turns all Cantabrians just a little more mad than they already were.

It’s strong with lashings of malt, hops and fruitiness. Glengarry (the magazine of the wine and beer retailer) describes it as ‘the Michelin Man of ales’ as in ‘balanced, fully flavoured and artfully constructed.’ Not as in made of tyres and tasting of rubber, then.

Comments:
Speight’s Porter?
They are getting better
You malty wee thing
Sweet and malty
Full flavour and smooth aftertaste
This one smells nice – sweet and malty
If it were a dog it would be a spaniel
Malty stuff; almost barley wine-ish
A beautiful bitter with a well-rounded flavour and spicy aftertaste

With 56 points, this beer was a clear winner and topped our voting table. I have incidentally noticed that this happens a lot with this kind of beer - is it that it is stronger, slightly sweet, or just served near the end of the night?

Beer number ten - Renaissance Craftsman Chocolate Oatmeal Stout (4.9%)

Renaissance Brewery Co sits in the heart of Marlborough’s wine growing region (Blenheim) so it must make damn fine stuff if it’s going to compete, and it does. It’s got that fancy label thing going on as well.

Made with real cocoa beans and organic rolled oats (plus malts and other stuff that goes into beer) this stout is one way to get your oats (and your chocolate). It was the brewery’s decadent spring release and Regional Wines and Spirits (my spiritual home) voted it among their top six beers of 2009. Beer writer Kieran Haslett-Moore writes, “Craftsman is the ultimate beer for any chocolate lover packed full of spicy dark chocolate and espresso flavours and aromas with a nutty rich moderately bitter finish. Try it with red meats or a dark berry based desert.” May I recommend pie and peas anyone?

Comments:
Like being pistol whipped by a belligerent troll but worse (incidentally, the person who described it thus rated it as their second favourite beer of the night - yes, I've got some odd friends...)
Speight’s Old Dark
Old Dark, Harrington’s or Monteith’s, and slightly bitter
Long dark number
Malt and full on
Chocolate and coffee
Eeeeeeeeuuuuw! Marmite
Molasses overtones with a chocolaty finish
Match with pudding

The chocolate beer was quite a popular wee number and was voted third overall with 46 points.

So there we have it; a fine night was had by all, much beer was consumed and much nonsense was talked, which is afterall, the true purpose of such functions. The Blackhurst Beer Festival has successfully completed it's seventh year, and we are looking forward to the next one already!