Sussex Wunt Be Druv

I am a native of Sussex.  In the sense that I was born in Cuckfield Hospital and then lived in Haywards Heath until I was eight.  The ties have loosened since then, but the call is still there.  So when I wanted a location for a quick weekend getaway recently, my mind turned to Sussex (partly because it offered slightly balmier southern climes on a weekend when some of my favourite northern cities were very much in the grip of winter).

I looked up “best breweries in Sussex” and an answer jumped out at me: Lewes.  And, spoiler alert, I did spend a couple of days drinking some very excellent beer.

Lewes is a beautiful old town with a lively history.  The future Edward I was captured by Simon de Montfort’s men when he got a little bit over-enthusiastic with a cavalry charge in 1264.  Thomas Paine was the local Exciseman, until he got fired for claiming to have inspected consignments that he hadn’t.  Some trace the radicalisation of the town back to Paine, but I suspect he was simply exploiting the favourable circumstances of a maritime trading town.  The fact is that there developed a tradition of challenging behaviour by the men of the town, which eventually took shape around the Bonfire Societies.  17 Protestants were burned in Lewes under Bloody Mary.  Unsurprisingly, the town was strongly Parliamentarian.  There is no time for a lecture here on the Civil War - fascinating a subject though it is - but part of this stroppy town mindset was the belief that Catholicism was linked to the European absolute monarchies and therefore a threat to English liberties.  At any rate, the celebrations of November 5th in Lewes went beyond a few kids with sparklers.  Blazing crosses representing the 17 martyrs were carried through the streets and the Pope was burned in effigy.  Burning tar barrels were rolled down the High Street, uncomfortably close to wooden houses.  The revellers blacked their faces to avoid recognition by the authorities.

These traditional practices - burning crosses, Pope burning, blackface - do not always sit comfortably in our enlightened modern times.  And there have occasionally been hate merchants trying to exploit the madness of it all.  According to Wikipedia, the late Dr Ian Paisley (in the days before he reinvented himself as an avuncular man of peace) showed up in 1981 hoping to commune with fellow Catholic haters.  But in case this is giving you a certain view of Lewes, you should know that he got a dusty welcome, to the point that the following year the effigy that was burned was of the good Doctor himself.  Look at the politics now, and you see a Lib Dem MP and a Green dominated Town Council.  Again according to Wikipedia, there is a Lewes Maoist Action society which keeps the spirit of the Great Helmsman alive by running a cake sale outside Lewes Castle at the weekend, and which claims to have infiltrated Harveys Brewery.  (I was unable to corroborate this, and I do wonder if this is an expression of the local sense of humour and someone is taking the piss out of Wikipedia here…)

Walking around Lewes, I started to see the Sussex motto - now adopted by Harveys - that “We Wunt Be Druv”.  In other words, nobody tells us what to do.  A simple statement of civic arsey-ness.

So, mentioning the mighty institution that is Harveys brings us at last to the beer.  Harveys proclaims that John Harvey started things up in 1790.  It seems that this refers to his business as a purveyor of wines and spirits.  He began brewing as a sideline about 30 years later.  Lewes had a number of breweries and Harveys is the only one that remains of the Victorian brewing cohort.  The corporate website sets out in loving detail the genealogy that began with John Harvey and ends with the two 8th generation descendents who currently work in sales and marketing.  Actually it ends with the rousing message that there are four 9th generation family members - all under 5 - “which we hope provides plenty of scope for the continuation of Harvey’s as an independent family business for generations to come”.  Sorry, kids, but your fate is predestined.  Free will is an illusion.

To work up a thirst, I first walked up onto the Downs - a gentle 6 ½ mile circular route via Black Cap and down to Housedean Farm.  I find it sharpens the palate and reassures me that a weekend spent drinking beer can be kind of sort of healthy.

I then began my “research” at the beautiful Lewes Arms just down the road from my accommodation, which was doing a roaring trade for the entirety of my visit.  I started as one should, with a pint of Harveys Sussex Best.  One of the classic best bitters, to be mentioned in the same breath as a London Pride or a Tribute, and this pint was in good condition.

I then discovered the brewery itself and, close by, the John Harvey Inn.  I was told that this was a good place to taste a wider range of Harveys beers, and I was not disappointed.  The dry hopped Armada Ale.  The XX Mild.  But the highlight, undoubtedly, was the Old Ale.  A beautifully rich “winter warmer” drink, and amazingly so given that it is only 4.3% ABV.  I gather from reading online reviews that I was particularly lucky to get it on cask, as it is never quite the same in a bottle.  I then headed next door to the bottle shop and picked up a couple of additionals to take home.  I am looking forward in particular to the “Tripel Alliance” collaboration with nearby Burning Sky (brewery unfortunately did not have an open taproom at the weekend, but this has prompted me to explore their online shop) and Belgium’s Brasserie de la Senne.

All the talk about historic religious strife in Lewes leads me to a clunking religious metaphor for the beer scene and the whole cask v craft tribalism.  Bear with me.  Harveys had the feel of being the town’s established church, with the beautiful buildings and comforting ritual.  But for some hardy souls what was required was the pure taste of hop, and for that they needed to make their walk to the cold, bare chapels of craft beer out of town.  Specifically, on bitterly cold pavements alongside main roads into grim industrial estates.  Where they huddled together on hard benches outside (the interior by the bar was full of the lucky few who had got there first), drawing meagre comfort from heaters, nothing to eat except exotic slightly overpriced street food but beer glasses cradled reverently in their hands.  Having attended the lunchtime service at Harveys, I needed more spiritual comfort and I had to join them.

I started off at the new kids of Lewes - Abyss, founded in 2016, started off in a pub basement before getting the classic industrial estate premises.  A basic, no nonsense setup with a simple blackboard showing the beers with flowery descriptions such as “Lager” or “IPA”.  I selected a chunky traditional wooden flight and filled it with the full selection of pales and IPAs.  All really nice stuff, and of all of them the 6.2% Tropical Thunder sticks most closely in my mind.

Then the next stop was Beak - the brainchild of writer Daniel Tapper.  Their website records how he began brewing as a nomadic venture in collaboration with various big brewing players.  Beak gives the sense of having given some serious thought to their marketing and branding.  Their artwork certainly stands out in terms of modern abstract imagery.  

So did their description of the beers.  My sequence was

1. Strangers DDH Pale, which promised “pithy, chewy and dank in all the requisite places with big bouncy flavours of pineapple, white grape, lemongrass and grapefruit with a faint whiff of strawberries and cream”.  With that write up it had to be good.  And to be fair it was sensational.  
2. Paths - IPA collaboration with the mighty Track of Manchester (contains “expressive yeast” and “silly amounts of” the key hops) - which was as solid as you would expect.
3. Guest beer - Sour called Woods Devil from Tripping Animals of Miami, “Cara Cara orange, blackberry, calamansi [another name for kumquat, apparently] and vanilla”  I love a sour and this one was beautifully subtle - I didn’t make me pucker the way some do.
4. Drifts 11% Imperial Stout.  “Tobacco, pub hearths and charred oak on the nose” [if you say so…] and a massive chocolate taste that had me purring.

So overall - a brewery that is not shy of talking big talk, but which is good enough to live up to it.  Others clearly shared my view.  The taproom was absolutely packed, with punters squished together on outside tables.  I was sharing with a group of friends who were having one of the most craft beer conversations ever (a young woman was suggesting to her male companion that they compare notes on how they would rank various Thornbridge beers out of 10 as a measure of how compatible they were…)

That was Lewes - a very pleasant weekend.  I took my leave from the owner of my accommodation and conveyed my enthusiasm about the beer.  She said that I really should come down for the Bonfire.  Carefully, I asked if Bonfire was now being challenged.  She said sure, they try to stop people from coming but Bonfire is strong and it continues.  I asked if they still roll the burning tar barrels.  She said yes, and some of the local maniacs risk life and limb jumping over the fire (“and they have drunk so much that they burn easily.  Especially them in Cliffe [just over the river to the East], they’re mad”).  She was so friendly - as was everyone else that I spoke to - that I thought it would be crass to ask about burning the Pope.  I mean obviously one shouldn’t burn the Pope.  But if you asked me for an adjective about Lewes then “hateful” would not be it. “A bit mad”, possibly.