Morrissey’s Perfect Pint

Neil Morrissey

&

Richard Fox

MORRISSEY MAXIM

There’ll be plenty of time to drink Kaliber when you die.

‘For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.’

The Winter’s Tale

So Foxy and me are in this pub: the staff really wish we weren’t there, the beer tastes like badger poo, the food’s been through Abu Ghraib and the music is so loud our teeth are bleeding. I shout at Foxy, ‘Mate, it doesn’t have to be like this’, and the picture of the perfect pub floats into our minds. At this moment the idea is born to set up our own pub and brew our own beer in an on-site microbrewery. Bloke Heaven: beer, pub and home become one. ‘Fancy a pint?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘Love, just nipping downstairs. Be back in an hour …’

We need a different kind of pub now to the pulling joints of youth. Pulling is still on the cards, but in a more genteel way: tugging, let’s say. Pubs need to reflect our age and our desire for the three Qs: quality food, quality beer and quality service. This is what The Perfect Pint is all about.

The problem is that our generation created the monster of the high street chain bar. It is exactly what we wanted when we were 18 (instead of those sticky carpet horror shows of the 70s and 80s) but the monster has escaped and killed every other kind of boozer in its path. The opportunity for beer drinking, as we now want to do it, is getting squeezed out by these characterless, sterile vomit hovels. At this point in our lives we want something different.

Pubs are closing their doors at the rate of nearly 60 a week. But these ‘establishments’ where you get crap service, crap beer, crap wine, crap food, crap atmosphere and a crap fight at the end of the night are taking over the high street. Nothing about them has anything to do either with pubs or continental cafés – they’re the spawn of corporate marketing departments interested in creating a template for ‘customer experience’. Britain’s attempt at sophisticated la-di-da café culture has replaced sticky carpets with sticky stripped wooden floors and cardboard food with cardboard canapés. The pub’s evolution seems to have missed out a stage, the stage in which there is a place to drink, in a community, with decent local food and decent local beer. And good service!

The plan, then, was simple: find a pub, buy it, renovate it to the way we want a pub to look, brew our own beer and cook great food. In other words, create the perfect pub serving the perfect pint. Of course, the logistics are staggering, it’s costing us an arm and a leg and there are no guarantees that the whole venture won’t go tits up. But we believe that people respond to quality, and that’s what we’re all about. Great beer, great food and a great atmosphere to drink and eat in.

Our first attempt at a brew is described on page 15. While we were waiting for it to ferment, we decided to write down everything we love, hate, know and don’t know about beer, pubs, women and life. And drinking. Oh yes, drinking. This is the result – a beer book for blokes. Keep it in the little boys’ room.

Drinking

The Pub

Food