When is a pub not a pub?

When is a pub not a pub?

I’m fascinated by pubs. One of the main reasons I love them so much is because they are all different (not counting the dull repetition of bland chain pubs.) Recently I visited the delightful Little Martha Brewing in Bristol, where I got embroiled in a fascinating discussion about the nature of pubs with co-founder and brewer Ed Morgan.

Little Martha, for Ed, is assuredly a brewpub, not a taproom: “Rather than being a drinking space that is an add-on to a brewery, we’re a pub with a brewery at the back. When we started the business, the thing driving it was that we always wanted to have our own venue. We wanted to make it a cosy, warmer space certainly than some of the very large taprooms you see now. We wanted it to feel like a local pub, rather than trying to build a beer brand that would attract people here.”

Ed, along with the friends he founded Little Martha’s with, George and Pelin, have certainly achieved that goal. The brewpub is under a railway arch but has many little decorative touches that make it feel snug and welcoming. But that’s not to say that the beer is an afterthought. Everything they make, in an almost bewildering range of styles, is wonderfully balanced and beautifully drinkable. And, if you were wondering, Little Martha was the first rabbit in space – the inspiration for a host of space-inspired beer names.

Visiting the cheerful little hangout made me reflect on trends in pub styles. I think that we are (happily) well beyond the “theme” or “fun” pub era of the 1970s and 80s that engendered much gnashing of teeth within the What’s Brewing letters page. Perhaps the most notable pub genre to arise since then was the micropub.

Since their origins as the brainchild of Martyn Hillier at the Butchers Arms in Herne, Kent opened in 2005, the micropub has spread like wildfire. They tend to be relatively affordable to open – small in size with rents to match. They have a social benefit too, often breathing new life into disused commercial spaces and helping to regenerate our high streets. From a slow start with just 15 micropubs by 2013, there are now an estimated 900 of the blighters up and down the land.

Following hot on their heels, we saw the growth of the taproom. In my mind, this was synonymous with the craft beer boom, taking yet another leaf out of the book of our American friends. That’s not to say that they were a new concept. The Endless Street Brewery Tap, for example, was opened in Salisbury in 1830 by Henry Macklin who sold his home brew from it. The pub continued to be named after the owner of the brewery throughout the 19th century. It still exists today, as the Salisbury Arms, although without a brewing component, or indeed, real ale.

However, from around 2010 just as brewers were inspired by the heavily hopped, fragrant beers they tasted in the United States, they were similarly inspired by the taphouses they saw on their travels. They wanted the chance to serve up fresh, foaming pints to eager punters at the brewery door. In London, we saw the Kernel establish itself first on Druid Street in 2009. It opened on Saturdays for takeaway sales before selling some beers for consumption in the yard from 2010. While founder Evin O’Riordain says it wasn’t technically a taproom, he does see that it inspired other breweries to move into the area and open their own. The Kernel would move to Blockley Street in 2012, making a taproom of sorts in the warehouse on Saturdays until it became too crowded and it “couldn’t give customers the level of experience” it wanted to.

After some years without a public facility, the Kernel finally launched a permanent taproom in late 2019. By then, the Bermondsey Beer Mile was well established, with the likes of Brew by Numbers, Fourpure, Partizan Brewing and Anspach & Hobday long settled into their own archway homes.

Elsewhere in the country, breweries like Green Duck were also establishing their public face with its taproom, opened when the Stourbridge brewery began in 2013. By jumping on the bandwagon so quickly, it received visitors like Beavertown which came along for a recce in advance of its own openings.

Now a taproom is practically a given for every brewery. And it’s understandable. Having a bar at the brewhouse gives independents a direct route to market at a time when access to much of the trade is still under the stranglehold of the national pub companies. A taproom also lets brewers build better relationships with their consumer base, instilling loyalty in their regulars and creating a destination venue for those further afield.

Which, in some ways, brings us back full circle to brewpubs and places like Little Martha. I don’t know why I romanticise these little places so much, but brewpubs always seem to be my favourite pubs. They are always destination venues for me.

There are the historic four brewpubs that were around at the time of CAMRA’s foundation in 1971, which includes my near-local, the All Nations Inn at Madeley. Sadly, the Three Tuns no longer counts in this reckoning, having been a separate business from the inn of the same name for more than 20 years now. Unbelievably, Star Bars ceased serving beers from the brewery for a time last year until the local outrage caused it to reconsider.

Another classic is the Beacon Hotel with the Sarah Hughes brewery behind, which has been chugging along in Sedgley since its first licence was granted in 1852. A gap in brewing from the 1950s until 1987 kept it from the CAMRA list, but it is still an unmistakably important part of our pub heritage.

I would even argue that the Tamworth Tap, twice CAMRA National Pub of the Year, has slipped over to brewpub status, such are the demands that the success has put on George and Louise Greenaway that brewing has necessarily had to take a backseat to maintain the integrity of their award-winning hostelry.

These examples are easily some of my favourite pubs in the country. I love to try their house beers but enjoy having the option of something a bit different too. I find them all to be universally inclusive and welcoming spaces. Cosy and benign, they are top spots to relax and unwind.

It’s a bit of a minefield trying to set clear definitions for the different types of beeratoriums. Often the boundaries are blurred, and there is a deep crossover of facilities, atmosphere and location. And ultimately, it isn’t really important whether something is a micropub, taproom, brewpub or something else entirely. The important thing is supporting quality beer, served by knowledgeable staff, wherever you are lucky enough to find it.

 


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