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I’ve arranged to meet Mike at 9:00 for breakfast. Which is a buffet.

What do I get? What do you think? Bacon, scrambled egg and mushrooms. Quite a lot of bacon. Why? Because it’s there. And you can’t go wrong with bacon.
There’s quite a good view from the breakfast room, as it’s on the top floor. To one side is the bus station, the other the city centre shops.

After breakfast I nip around the corner to the bus station where there’s a shop. In which I pick up some water for the hotel. And a little hotel whisky. I’ll be needing that later.

We meet Shane, who’s staying in a different hotel, at the station. And James, another AB Inbev person. Our train is at 11:10. And in ten minutes were pulling into Burton. Past what I recognise is the former Allsopps brewery.

As we’ve quite a while until our 13:00 appointment at Marstons, we wander into town, hoping to find a pub that’s open.

No luck. Even after noon. This is another worrying trend. No pubs seem to open before 14:00. Some not until 16:00. The lunchtime session seems moribund. Really annoying for me, as I love a lunch session. When it’s nice and quiet and you can sit in a corner reading a newspaper. While slowly slurping down a few pints. Now Wetherspoons is often the only option for midday pints.

We get to Marstons a little early for our appointment. As there’s nothing else for us to do.

We’re greeted by Callum Turner, the surprisingly youthful head brewer. Who gets us kitted out in full protective gear: high-vis jacket, protective shoes, glasses and hat. All very proper.
Our tour starts in the brew house. An attractive (and listed) brick building, originally built for London brewer Mann, Crossman and Paulin.
First, we visit the room housing the old mash tuns. Massive, wooden-clad affairs with lids. They were still in use until surprisingly recently. In an adjoining room are their replacements. Two enclosed vessels built from shiny stainless steel.
Opposite are three similarly shiny coppers. Looking very similar to the mash tuns, save for the absence of grist cases.
I ask Callum: “Do you parti-gyle at all?”

“No, not since we stopped brewing Owd Roger. We used to parti-gyle that with Pedigree.”

“Owd Roger has been dropped?”

“Yes, a few years ago.”

That’s a shame. Owd Roger was a proper strong Old Ale, weighing in at around 8% ABV.

We walk the short distance to the fermentation room. Or hall of sadness, as it should be called. Where they’re currently dismantling the world’s last working union sets.
It’s a depressing sight. Especially as I never saw them in action. Which Mike did, the jammy bastard. I try to stifle my sobs as we survey the remnants of the sets. Will we ever see their like again?

According to Callum, one of the main reasons for using the union sets was yeast propagation. The yeast harvested from the sets being particularly healthy and active. They aren’t quite sure how they will replicate that.

The squares are up against the walls. Of a design I’ve never seen before. Totally enclosed and with a manhole. Though I don’t think it’s airtight and under pressure.
One square is being filled with Pedigree and they’re making sure to blend the right quantities of first and second wort to hit the target gravity.

We get ear plugs for the packaging department. Which is pretty noisy with all the bottles rattling around.

There is something hypnotic about cans or bottles shuffling around a filling line. But, other than that, there isn’t a great deal to see. Especially as they aren’t racking into casks at the moment.

Our final stop is the sampling room. The proper sampling room, with rows of casks along the floor. All firkins.
“What’s the largest cask size you use?” I ask Callum.

“Firkins. Other than Bass. That’s in 10-gallon casks.”

What? That’s a weird size.

We start with some Bass that’s been open for a few days. It’s dry and finishes satisfyingly bitter. And no trace of sulphur. Quite like the pint in the Smithfield. Moving on to a freshly-tapped Bass, the contrast is striking. It’s full of sulphur on the nose, not as dry and with less perceived bitterness.

I try a couple of the Marstons beers. Pedigree, which being quite fresh, is also quite sulphurous. But quite different from the Bass. I really like the Old Empire. A beer I’ve never encountered in cask form before.

Derek’s question is answered by the presence of Youngs Ordinary and Special. They’re brewed here in Burton.

As are Courage Best and Directors. A whole load of legacy brands has ended up here. My attention is drawn to the shelves of bottled beer.

“Do you brew Manns here?”

“Yes.”

I explain to the others that Manns was the original modern Brown Ale. And how the Brewers Association guidelines for English Brown Ale are way off the mark. Even on a basic characteristic as ABV. The guidelines say 4.2% to 6% ABV. While Manns, the classic example, is 2.8% ABV.

They ask Callum if they can try it. He goes to fetch a bottle. Which the others share. Its wateriness is quite a shock.

I give the Hobgoblin a try, not expecting much. And I’m not disappointed. I just don’t care for it. Never have. I’m not sure exactly why.

We spend quite some time in the cellar. Which has been very instructive. It’s time to go and drink some beer. In town.

We start at the Roebuck, a curved corner pub close to the station. Which we walked past earlier, when, frustratingly, it was closed.
The landlady is dead impressed by Mike’s Bass jacket. It is rather loverly. With an embroidered red triangle and the word “Bass”. Guess what we’re drinking? You’ll never get it. Bass!

It’s very good. The sulphur is almost all gone and there’s the dry bitterness that I liked in the older sample at the brewery. I can see why Bass still has a following. It’s excellent when looked after properly.

There are a fair few customers for 4 PM. But the customer profile is rather worrying, again. Most are 50 plus. This doesn’t bode well for the future of pubs. Maybe it’s just the time of day. And the young people all turn up later. That’s my hope.

We need to be moving on. Not far. To another pub that was closed at lunchtime: the Devonshire Arms. A former Ind Coope pub. That just happens to be selling Bass. Well, we are in Burton. Why not have a Bass?

The polished copper table tops reflect and enhance the deep amber colour of the Bass. It looks lovely, with its creamy collar and proud red triangle. It’s still a thing of wonder, a well-kept and pulled pint of Bass.
After a couple of pints, hunger, which has been lagging behind us all day, finally catches up with us. What about a curry?

There’s a curry house nearby and we decant there. For various starters and main courses. Not spicy enough for my taste. Do I like really spicy stuff now? I don’t think so.

The final Burton stop is the legendary Cooper’s Tavern. We have trouble getting in as a folk band is blocking the door. Not sure why they don’t just move a little further into the room.

The Bass is served by gravity here. Unfortunately, the cask is almost empty and the beer is pretty flat. Had we arrived a little later, we’d have had lovely, fresh Bass. What a shame.
We only stay for a couple. Before heading back to Derby.
“Fancy a pint in the White Horse?” Mike asks. It’s the pub opposite our hotel.

“Why not?”

It’s fairly full. Many middle-aged (or older) men, watching Derby playing. Though there are some younger drinkers as well Oh, look. They’ve got Bass.
The Bass is pretty good. Mike and I discuss football as we watch the game and sip our Bass. I mention Jim Baxter, who was sent off in the first football match I went to.

“You had to thump someone to get sent off back then. Which is what Jim Baxter did.”

We don’t make it too late. More travelling tomorrow.

On our way out, one of the old chavs comes up and says:

“I heard you talking about Jim Baxter. Great player.”

A tot of hotel whisky has me tooting away to sleep.




The Roebuck Inn
101 Station St,
Burton-on-Trent.
DE14 1BT.
https://www.roe-buck-inn.co.uk/


Devonshire Arms
86 Station St,
Burton-on-Trent,
DE14 1BT.


The Coopers Tavern
43 Cross St,
Burton-on-Trent,
DE14 1EG.


The White Horse
25 Morledge,
Derby,
DE1 2AW.


Disclosure: my travel and all expenses were paid by Goose Island.



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