Make Mine a Mackeson

Ena: Line 'em up Jack Walker and look sharp about it. Me and the girls are off down the Mission on the pull.

Martha: I do hope you don't get like last week, Ena.

Ena: What do you mean, Martha Longhurst?

Martha: You were running down Rosamund Street waving yer draws at Leonard Swindley.

Minnie: Oooh, Ena.

Jack: What's it to be then? Tequila slammers all round?

Ena: Milk stout, as well you know, Jack Walker.

Minnie: Ooh, Ena.


It's an enduring image for anyone of a certain age and for most, probably the only exposure they ever had to this near mythical drink. I remember asking my parents what a milk stout was but as neither of them have ever been drinkers there was never an answer forthcoming except for "Mackeson" . In the event, I forgot to find out for myself as other bits of growing up got in the way.

Of course, I should have known all about Mackeson because I grew up just south of Ashford in Kent, not too far from the seaside resort of Hythe and that was where the beer was first brewed in 1907 from an original recipe said to have been in the Mackeson family since the early 19th century, although other sources suggest they purchased the patent to the recipe. If anyone knows for sure, I'd like to know. Mackeson was one of the big local brewers in Kent until they disappeared into Whitbread, although Mackeson stout was brewed in Hythe until around the end of the 50s, maybe even a little bit later. During that time it became a very popular national drink.

Since then it's been shunted around the country, even more so since Whitbread flogged its brewing operation off to the InBev brewing behemoth in order to concentrate on making accountants happy. Youngs brewed it at the Ram for a while until the joint venture with Charles Wells moved Youngs brewing up to Bedford. I've lost track of it now. Before I actually found a sample of it to check, I contacted InBev to ask whether it was still one of theirs because I could see nothing about it on their website. They said it was but it's pretty obvious it's not yellow or fizzy enough to be featured in their advertising. I contacted Wells and Youngs to ask whether they were brewing it for InBev but as yet I've had no reply. When I actually managed to get a four pack of cans from Tesco they confirmed the InBev link but there was no other clue. I'll update this when I find out.

Otherwise the can bears much the same design as the original bottles did; the milk churn with the red "Original & Genuine" flash across it. No hint of "milk" though. Milk stout is so called because it's brewed with lactose, a sugar commonly found in milk. It remains unfermented, giving the beer a distinct complexity to its flavour, not sweet as is often claimed but a pleasant roundness. Mackeson lost the "milk" appellation after the war when twitchy yet remarkably prescient, considering some of the knee-jerk litigiousness that currently abounds, legislators decided it couldn't claim to involve milk when really it didn't. I don't think anyone took any notice. It's often called a sweet stout instead to distinguish it from the common stouts but sweet is a bit of a misnomer as it isn't. Stories also abound regarding Mackeson's supposed health-giving characteristics and the association with Weatherfield's old redoubtables is probably down to it having being prescribed to nursing mothers in some hospitals. It's also rumoured to have been offered as a post blood donation restorative on account of its high iron content. This is of no particular surprise, men have long known of the rehabilitative properties of beer.

It's not a strong drink by any stretch of the imagination. 3% abv although there are stronger versions of around 4.5% brewed abroad for the US and especially the West Indian market where it's touted as a young man's drink. Pour it out and it develops a thick coffee coloured foamy head but nothing like a Guinness head. It has a much more discernible smell to my nose than Guinness, too. Burnt toast, malt and a hint of chocolate, warm and friendly. In fact it reminds me of the malt beer you get in Denmark by the crate which is a non-alcoholic drink really aimed at children. It's fine chilled and because of its low alcohol content makes a fine summer drink when cold. I'm not a lover of Guinness, I can't see its attraction to be honest, but I'd have one of these any time.

It's tasty, a nice drink that's been forgotten because it doesn't immediately fit in with InBev's trendy demographic. You can't stuff a wedge of lime in the neck (although you could try a pickled egg), it's not yellow and it's not a drink to swill from a bottle (can you get bottles? I could only get a four pack of 330 ml cans). Moreover, binge on Mackeson and you won't need to be scraped off the pavement afterwards but you'll probably be crapping anvils for a week. They've decided it's not a young person's drink and that's more fool them. I can well imagine it becoming a casualty of some brand stocktaking unless somebody realises what a little masterpiece it really is. Go out and find some before it's too late.

Wells well.

Way way back in the very early 80s I used to work for a large engineering company in the West End with a bloke called Steve. He was the senior in both age and status and we worked together for about two years, largely making it up as we went along. After a bit of a stutter to begin with we got a good partnership going and had some good laughs. He was what you might call larger than life; he played tight head for London Scottish, claimed he was both a descendant of Robert the Bruce and in an effort to wind me up over my liberal tendencies, a member of the Monday Club. He would often disappear and I was forever having to fend calls from his incredibly sweet and lovely wife, a woman for whom the prefix "long-suffering" could have been specifically designed. For instance, one birthday he said he was off to treat himself to a Guinness. He wasn't referring to the drink, he was off to Kings Cross to negotiate the temporary affections of a couple of athletic young ladies of differing ethnicity. Thankfully, I wasn't invited.

One thing I can thank Steve for is for taking me one lunchtime to the Smugglers Tavern in Warren Street where they served Charles Wells' Bombardier. Back then it was a bit of a rarity, being a little-known beer outside its native Bedford. It's also fair to say that hand-drawn cask ales were just on their way back following the disappearance of the rubbish that had been foisted upon the drinker during the 60s and 70s, so the presence of a hand pump on a bar bearing an unfamiliar label was still a distinct draw. I was living in Lewisham at the time and David Bruce had recently opened the Fox and Firkin, one of his earliest pubs, just round the corner from my flat so the concept wasn't exactly lost on me (although Bombardier bore no relation to the excellent Dogbolter or the fearsome Earthstopper, which I think I tried only once). This would have been well before Charles Wells decided to go politely jingoistic and capitalise on the St George's cross motif making it the "Drink of England" as otherwise Steve, being of Caledonian stock, probably wouldn't have gone near it. I can remember thinking it wasn't a bad drink. Several times.

And then it all went quiet. I hardly noticed the stuff until 20 years later when it appeared that every pub I went into in and around Crewe had it as a main beer. It would have been around this time that the "English" campaign started. The shield logo was enhanced to accentuate the St George's cross and there were tie-ups with major English sporting events such as Wimbledon, cricket and rugby test matches and ads featuring quirky habits like cocked little fingers. Despite an online petition to have St George's Day made a bank holiday, it's more of a benign celebration of Englishness rather than rabid nationalism or overt patriotism. They have an understated link with England football matches but you sense they'd prefer to be associated with jolly rugger buggers than the type of England supporter who struggles with reality after two pints of Carling yellow water. I also rather think that there's something in the fact that Charles Wells have remained resolutely independent and not been sucked into the cess of anonymity that is InBev (try finding the wonderful Mackeson on their website. They do own it, I asked them). Although, strictly speaking it's now Wells and Young's Brewing Co since the joint venture with Young's in 2004 and Young's brewing operation was moved from the Ram brewery to Bedford.

I'm temporarily based in Kent at the moment. Most Saturdays I take the bus into Ashford, the town in which I was raised and schooled, to change my library books and have a saunter around. The pub I haunted in my youth doesn't appeal any longer as it's still frequented by teenagers but opposite is a Smith and Jones place, The Phoenix, that occupies what used to be Courts, the furnishers. By night it's one of those large party pubs with an Australian manager, plasma screens and boards outside advertising football and a place I normally wouldn't be seen dead in as a result. However, by day they do a superb fish and chips or bangers and mash with red onion gravy and have comfortable seating and a small range of real ales, one of which is Bombardier. It's not full of binged up kids at lunchtime so it's not an unpleasant place to kill a couple of hours in, as long as Arsenal don't have a lunchtime fixture. The cellerman seems to be able to keep a decent pint, too which is what it's all about and during the six-nations rugby it's on special offer, £1.90 a pint. Reviewing draught beers can be a bit hit and miss as so much depends on the skill of the cellarman and the bar staff's devotion to cleanliness, as much a sound excuse to conduct an extended period of research and testing as any. All in the name of public service of course and a duty I can say without fear of contradiction that I've faithfully discharged.

Bombardier is a classic English ale. Nothing spectacular and at 4.3% ABV, nice and steady. It's a bright copper-amber colour and pours with a good half inch long lasting head. There's no strong aroma and no overpowering flavour. It's got a balanced bitterness, slight hint of plum, a little bit of malt and a short-lived apple aftertaste. There was also a flavour that I couldn't quite put my finger on but after a while I decided it was ashtray. Not the thoroughly unpleasant stale fag ash smell but that annoying though ultimately satisfying whiff you get as an ex-smoker that hints that actually you quite enjoyed smoking at the time until your body and common sense decided against it. It's a beer that tries to offer a little of something for everyone and near as dammit succeeds. The beer that would probably win the "If you couldn't have your favourite, which would you pick out of these?" choice in a survey.

I also have it on excellent authority that it makes quite the most perfect bitter shandy possible. The authority in question is an avowed non-bitter drinker yet will always have a shandy if Bombardier's on. I must agree with her, it's a fine drink as long as the R.White's goes in first and beer on top. I've often found a quick shandy in her company very enjoyable and refreshing.

The Phoenix, Tufton St, Ashford, Kent.

Feline Fine.

This feels good. I've missed this, writing about beer. I used to do this a lot at one time and although there is no real excuse needed to sink a pint or three, there is none better if pushed than to say you're conducting research. Investigative reporting, eh? Eat your heart out, John Pilger. Onward...

Peculiar. I lived in Cheshire for over five years until fairly recently (and hope to return) yet, despite their ubiquity, I can barely remember ever going into a Robinson's house. I'm not sure why, I even briefly worked with someone who lived in one yet was never compelled to visit and say hello (probably because we were working an evil nightshift in a toilet factory and it wasn't good form loosening up before you went to work). Anyway, I wish I'd bothered, I've missed something rather lovely.

The irony is, it took a chance discovery in Ashford's Asda, over 250 miles from Robinson's home in Stockport, before I realised what I was missing out on and I doubt there are many Men of Kent even aware of Robinson's, let alone Old Tom. If you're a CAMRA member (I'm not) you'll probably have heard of it as it's a serial award winner and only last month won gold in the barley wine category and silver overall at their National Winter Ales Festival in Manchester. There's a tiny little synchronicity though with my Kent connection; Robinson's is a venerable old brewery (Old Tom's been around since 1899. Apparently the name refers to the brewery cat) and Kent has its own one in Shepherd Neame (the oldest brewer in the country) and Shepherd Neame brew some of Asda's own beers (and very good they are too). I'm not a huge fan of Asda generally but their beer buyer sounds like someone who takes their job very seriously. I'd do it.

A warning. When you buy it off the shelf Old Tom comes in very small bottles because, as befits a barley wine, it is very strong. 8.5% ABV strong which is over half the strength of wine. But because it doesn't really taste particularly strong don't let yourself be fooled. Have too much of it and gravity will whip your sorry behind should you choose to have a scrap with it.


The thing about heavy beers such as porters, stouts and winter warmers is that despite their sweet richness they often leave a slightly sour aftertaste behind each mouthful. Despite some reviewers claiming a lingering aftertaste, I've found that I just don't get that with Old Tom. It's undeniably sweet, like treacle or molasses but it's incredibly balanced. The hoppy bitterness fades almost immediately leaving just the fruity top notes and that just begs another sip. And I think that's the key to enjoying it as well - don't take hefty draughts, sip and savour it. Take deep gulps and the experience will probably be totally different. Leave it for a bit and come back after 10 minutes and it'll still be just as good. In the glass it's a dark, very slightly rusty chocolate colour and pours with a light coffee coloured head that quickly fades, so no lacing.

I must admit that this has very quickly become a definite favourite. I had a bottle earlier on with some cheese and it's got to be one of the best cheese beers going - it's fantastic after a mouthful of blue stilton. I should be back in Cheshire for good fairly soon. Can't wait.