My new recipe book is out, packed full of, er, stuff. Loads of new recipes, including ones from North America and some Lagers. Quite a few Lagers, actually. And lots of other random shit.
You should know me by now. What interests me. Which is everything beer-realted. Just about.
Just back from Newark. Visiting family and my mate Henry from school. Who's just started a brewery*. The fact that he dropped off a firkin of Red Barrel at my brother's for my stay has had absoulutely no influence on my opinion of his beer.
It was a bit like a challenge. Or at least that's how I saw it. 72 pints, four blokes, three nights. Should be a piece of piss. Just six pints a day each. I'd tell you how it ended - were the kids up to it? And the insanity chile story. That's another good one.
But you'll have to wait for that. I'm trying to flog my new book:
Any guesses as to who's the handsome man on the cover?
Please buy my new recipe book. It's dead good. And Andrew is about to go to University.
* Cat asylum, in Collingham, Nottinghamshire. He hasn't got a website yet. But it did look this afternoon as if I might be able to persuade him to install a dropping system. Or was that Red Barrel I'd had for brunch clouding my judgement? In case you're wondering: surprisingly unshit. The Red Barrel. Not that I doubt Henry's brewing skills. More the recipe. It is an evil keg one, after all. The archetypal evil keg.
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