I shall skip lightly over the Diggers, No 8 and other such treats on sale yesterday afternoon and early evening, moving on to the reason for my visit - the "Green Hop".
Now the first Green Hop was, as it may best be described, a mid-strength, light-coloured, fresh-tasting golden ale. Of light body, with floral notes and a certain citrus hop finish. A very fine example of its type, a now very trendy idea of brewing with hops in the season when they are still fresh - before drying or, worse, pelleting removes some of those precious volatiles. A dry beer which I suspect one could enjoy for a long period.
But then we move onto the pièce de résistance. I will tell you this slowly, Dear Readers. For I reveal to you a mystery. When the standard Green Hop ran out, it was replaced with..... dry-hopped Green Hop. That is right. At the point when the beer was casked, Rob the brewer added extra hops - for extra hoppy goodness.
The creative powers of accountants are as the sands on the sea shore, it is true. But on this occasion words fail me. The dry-hopped Green Hop prickled the tongue like stinging nettles steeped overnight in angels' tears. It was an experience, a joy, like an ale dream. If there is real ale in heaven (and how could there not be - they cater for the wine buffs) then it may well taste like this. The rail journey back to Ridgmont passed like a dream. Which could have been disastrous, as I nearly forgot to change at Bedford, so rapt was I.
On the Rorschach scale, I give it "Lady Godiva and her trusty sea-eagle." There is no higher mark of which I know.
High praise indeed! - I must try to get hold of some..
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