Mine's a pint

Spaniards don't care for British beer. They don't like it because of the temperature it is served at. Most use the word broth in their comparison. Spaniards like their beer cold. British style bitter beer isn't easily available in Spain because here, like in most places, beer means bottom fermented rather than top fermented product - lager instead of ale. Obviously, when I moved to Spain I wanted to integrate so I embraced Spanish lager wholeheartedly. It wasn't as hard as cracking the subjunctive because, when I was young, drinking Indian Kingfisher, American Rolling Rock, Italian Peroni, Canadian Labatt, Mexican Dos Equis, and so on and so on, was considered eminently cool. I had prior form.

To my mind most lagers tend to be quite samey. It's not that they taste the same but the standard light, crisp and gassy lagers, like the majority of the Spanish ones have quite a lot in common. That's presumably why most Spaniards, in Spain, don't specify and simply ask for a beer. On the other hand most Britons, in the UK at least, order their beer by name and quantity. Being a bit contrary I seem to prefer the less usual varieties of lager, the dark ones like Modelo Negra or Tres Equis for instance and the blonder ones like Hoegaarden. So, a few years ago, when craft beers started to become much more available in Spain I thought of it as being a bit like that real ale surge in the UK in the 1970s and 80s. At that time in the UK the big brewers generally abandoned the mass produced fizz and tried to produce a more traditional product. In turn that gave space in the market for the traditional brewers at the same time as providing an opening for the new small scale producers. So when the big Spanish brewers, Heineken, Mahou-San Miguel and Damm, started to add to their ranges - an IPA here, a double hopped there, maybe a Dunkel or a toasted beer - then, all at once, having a Spanish beer involved a little more choice. There were also, suddenly, inevitably, local craft Spanish beers - often with terrible copies of beers like stouts and IPA - but at least there was an option. Nowadays Spanish supermarkets offer a cornucopia of different beers.

The other week we went on a visit to the Estrella de Levante brewery in Espinardo on the outskirts of Murcia city. Estrella is owned by the Damm group. I have no idea how I've missed this trip for so long because it seems that they've been doing tours since 2013. One of the big advantages for me is that the brewery is on the tram line. I arranged the day so that I could enjoy the lunchtime tasting session and then use the tram to go to the town centre for a concert. By the time the band finished I was alcohol free for the drive home.

To be honest the factory tour was less than overwhelming. Malting rooms are always semi interesting but bottom fermentation, with sealed tanks, doesn't leave much to look at and bottling and canning plants are hardly spellbinding. The tasting though was really well done.

The tasting room at Estrella de Levante was refurbished at the end of last year. My guess is that the tours were halted becase of Covid and, during the pandemic, the company took advantage of the lull and rebuilt the room. As it's new it still looks very stylish as well as being clean and tidy. We all sat at long tables with a sort of big place mat in front of us. On each mat there was a space for the glass and a space to grade, using a scale provided by them, or comment on, the four beers we were offered. Any primary school teacher would be able to produce something similar but it did add a touch of audience participation to the beer tasting. We had also paid the extra to get the maridaje, the marriage or pairing up, of little snacks, tapas, to go with each beer. The tapas were really good.

As I said there were four beers - the standard Estrella de Levante lager, Verna which is their beer spiked with lemon juice (a bit shandy like), Punta Este which is a lager with extra toasted malt and a wheat beer which is new for them and which isn't yet listed on their website. As we tasted we were offered refills of everything. For the first beer, the standard lager, lots of people asked for refills. Nobody asked for a refill on the shandy stuff and nobody asked for a refill on the wheat beer (except me). Only two or three people (again I was one of them) asked for refills on the toasted lager. 

As everyone in the room, us apart, was Spanish I drew a conclusion from that session. I decided that Spaniards like their beer to taste like the beer they know. It's hardly detailed market research but it does explain why, when I'm in a bar, and I ask if they have any interesting beers the servers never know what I'm talking about. I have to explain that I'm keen to try a beer that isn't a run of the mill lager - de toda la vida - like always. I might think that a double hopped unfiltered beer is interesting but, apparently, to your average Spaniard, that would be inferior to normal lager. As long as both are cold of course!

Is it a car, is it a skirt? No, it's a glass!

Being remarkably hip and cool, or whatever you say nowadays for being hip and cool - straight fire Gucci maybe - we go to see a fair number of contemporary musicians. Just so my mum understands I mean pop festivals. We go to see the town band too so, really, we're neither hip nor cool. Never mind. At a music festival, in non Covid times, the security check at the entrance was to look for anything unsafe and to root out food and drink. Nobody likes to pay festival prices for beer or for a rum and coke.

Festivals aren't permanent events, more or less by definition. The jobs they provide are temporary. Most of the staff are temporary. And temporary tends to unknown and unknown tends to untrustworthy. Years ago the daughter of one of my work colleagues went to Ibiza for the summer season to work in a bar. The young woman turned up, sober and unstoned, on time, every day, for the whole of her contract. Her boss was so unused to this responsible behaviour from his young, temporary staff that he paid her a bonus and tried to hire her, then and there, for the next season.

At a festival the temporary staff on the bars aren't trusted to handle money but someone has to, so the bosses get someone to run a cash office in whom they have more confidence. These money handling trusties take the money from the paying punters and change it into little tokens which then become the currency of the festival. It's a doubly good trick because, as well as limiting pilfering, not all the tokens get changed into goods. If, for instance, the tokens are worth 1€ and they are sold in blocks of 10 with the charge for a beer being 3€ there will be a good number of people who buy three beers and have one useless token left over. It's not a huge intellectual leap for friends to pool the left over tokens or for people to queue at the cash office to turn the tokens back into money but both processes are a bit of a faff. The end result is that lots of people go home with a couple of plastic tokens and the organisers get to keep the euros that bought them.

The cost of a small glass of beer in Spain varies but it's still not that unusual to get a beer for as little as a euro, maybe 1.50€. In a decent sized city normal bars might charge around 2.50€ and, if the bar specialises in good looking servers and is trendy - sorry, straight fire - then you can pay a lot more. Nonetheless, even in posh restaurants, restaurants with Michelin stars and strange names, restaurants with oddly named craft beers, I don't think I've ever been particularly shocked by the price of beer; it's not like buying a beer in Paris. One of our local bars charges as much as 6€ for high alcohol (often Belgian) beer and I think that's as much as I've ever paid in anywhere normal. 

At festivals there will be a beer sponsor. They'll have all the bars and serve their, usually, very ordinary lager in plastic glasses at inflated prices. Nowadays the tendency is that you will need a token to buy a reusable plastic glass in a pretence of being environmentally friendly. Festival beer is as expensive as beer gets - 3€ or 4€ for a small glass is pretty usual. The first time it's a shock but by the fifth glass nobody cares much especially if the bands are good.

There are lots of ways to ask for beer in a bar. By name for instance or by the size of the glass. When Britons want a, nearly, pint sized glass (as in Pulp Fiction we have no quarter pounders or pints because we have the metric system) you can ask for a tanque or una jarra. A small glass of beer is usually a caña. The size of a caña varies - in Madrid it tends to be around 200ml but, in the Basque Country, a caña is around a third of a litre. In Castilla y León they have smaller measures that are called cortos, in Andalucia tubos are common and so it goes. Bottles are usually botellín or quinto for the 200 ml size and tercio for the 330 ml size. Again there are regional differences, in Cataluña for instance I think the 330 ml bottles are called medianas by the locals, and there are litre bottles or litronas. Young people and seasoned drinkers often order beer in litronas to share.

Recently we've been to see three bands in the music festival in Cartagena called the Mar de Músicas. With our allocated seats located I went to find the bar and I was pleased to find that the bar staff dealt in cash (and cards). Maggie's wish for a vodka was thwarted though - only soft drinks and beer. I order a couple of cañas and paid the 3€ each. Beer in hand I now have time to read the price list and I notice that they have a bigger, squashy, plastic glass which contain as much as a litre and the price is 7€. This sort of big plastic glass is habitually used for cubatas and cubatas are mixed drinks in the rum and coke, vodka and lemon style. At the Mar de Músicas, and at most festivals, you don't have to go to the bar. Men and women with beer filled backpacks wander the auditoria happy to bring it to you. Near us a couple of young women were ordering beer; they checked prices and quantities and eventually asked for a big plastic glass full of 7€ worth of beer and two smaller empty glasses. They were going to share. As they ask the price their question is "How much is a mini?". I'd forgotten that's what the big glasses are called. Spanish irony I presume.

No ice cubes for me

Sometimes visitors put Spain on the other side of the North South divide. The Third World side. Guests ask us if the water is safe to drink. On one, very embarrassing, occasion a house guest wanted to know the price of some towels on a market stall so we asked on her behalf. Using her fingers as euro markers our guest offered half the amount to the stall holder. The trader snorted and turned away. Maggie and I inspected the shine on our shoes.

There is a similar sort of appreciation of Spanish traffic law. Somebody who lived near us used to always drive the wrong way up a one way street to leave his habitual parking space. "Oh, it's Spain, everybody does it," he said. That's not true. Most Spaniards obey signs and the like in exactly the same way as most Britons do. He was applying his own prejudices to the situation. The other day I turned down a drink, an alcoholic drink, "No, I've had a couple and I'll have to drive in four or five hours so I'd better not". My travelling companion said something like "Well, they don't bother much here - do they?". The answer is yes; they bother a lot.

There are two sets of Spanish alcohol limits. One, a more lenient limit, applies to people like me, your normal everyday non professional driver. The other is for lorry, coach, or delivery van drivers and the like - professional drivers. The same, lower, limits are applied to people who have passed their driving test within the last twelve months.

Then there is another division. There's a lower limit that gets you fined 500€ and puts four points on your licence and a higher limit that costs you 1,000€ and six points. Exceed that higher limit and you're looking at bans, driver re-education, community service and even prison time. The level when it becomes an offence is 0.25 miligrammes per litre of breath (0.15 mg/l for professionals and novices), it becomes a more serious offence at 0.5 mg/l (0.3 mg/l) and it gets deadly serious at 0.6 mg/l. For comparison the English, Welsh and Northern Ireland limit is higher, at 0.35 mg/l and even in abstemious Scotland it's 0.22 mg/l. The Spanish drugs limit is much easier. Zero. Anything above zero and you have a serious problem.

I've been breathalysed here four or five times here. All of them routine checks, all of them negative. Sometimes the checks were no big surprise - driving away from a pop festival at four in the morning but the Wednesday afternoon stop of everyone going through the toll gate on the underused section of the AP7 near Torrevieja was a little unexpected. The one where I had to remove the ignition key with my left hand whilst a man pointed a pump action shotgun at me was not an alcohol check! Also negative.

Last year the Traffic Division of the Guardia Civil did more than 5 million alcohol or drug tests. About 1.3% gave alcohol positives or around 95,000 drivers. The alcohol tests are random. A control is set up and every red car, or every car with just one occupant, or every third car is stopped - or whatever protocol they use. The drugs tests are usually done when someone is pulled over, either randomly or because of some traffic offence, and the police suspect drugs use. In that case the results are pretty astonishing. At least 35% in the semi random checks and around 55% for those stopped after a traffic violation test positive - cannabis, cocaine and amphetamines are the drugs of choice and in that order of precedence.

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I was very unsure whether to add this section. The best and safest amount of alcohol for driving is absolutely none. It's not just about fines and rules. The problem with alcohol is that it makes the driver less able to control the vehicle. Alcohol makes the possibility that a badly driven car will kill someone much more likely.

For most people 0.25 miligrammes of alcohol in a litre of breath doesn't translate into anything meaningful. How sober, tiddly or well drunk is 0.25 mg/l? I did find an article which suggested that a tercio (a 33 cl bottle) of a common Spanish beer (5.5% alcohol) would put most men just over the limit and that it would take that same "average" man about two hours to metabolise the booze. The same bottle of beer would put the "average" woman well over the lower limit and possibly on to the more penalised 0.5 mg/l limit. In her case she'd need nearly three hours to metabolise that bottle of beer. A glass of wine (how big is a glass?) might just leave most men under the lower limit whilst women would probably be in breathalyser trouble. And whilst it would take that woman about two hours to clear the alcohol from her system a man would do the same in eighty minutes. However accurate those figures are they do tend to suggest that the limits are very low. Definitely best to stick to the DGT slogan "At the wheel, not a drop".

Juanito Andante and friends

Just thinking about the last blog, about being in Madrid and about going to the pictures. Yesterday we went to see Love, Simon or Con amor, Simon. I pronounced the name Simón in a Spanish sort of way and the woman on the cash desk came back at me with the English pronunciation. I've said in the past that this can be a bit strange at times. Trade names, film titles etc. can have a variety of pronunciations that are neither Spanish, in the usual link between letters and sounds, nor English in the sense that we say a word exactly as we want to.

So, I'm in Madrid, years ago. I've been drinking beer because it's easy to ask for but I want a whisky. I look at the array of bottles behind the bar. White label - odd pronunciation with the silent h and that w and probably labble instead of label - guiyt labble? Bells, double ll, a sort of y sound - Bays? Johnny Walker - odd letters to pronounce both j and w - ghhhonni wallka. And then I spy it, the obvious, the easy - J&B. What can be wrong with that? Me pones un J&B, por favor. Except that J is jota and B is be. And Spaniards don't say and between the letters. What I should have said is something like hota bay.

I got it in the end though and it's still the whisky I drink most often in bars and for the same reason.

What would you like to drink?

I went last night, as I often do, to the Monday evening intercambio session at the Coliseum bar in Pinoso. The idea is simple enough, an English speaker is paired up with a Spanish speaker and the hour long session is divided in half - the conversation is in English to start, or in Spanish, and then, for the second half, it's the other way around. It's supposed to run from 8.30 to 9.30 but we're always a
little late starting and so a little late finishing. There is no cost but there is the expectation that you will buy a drink or two.

If things go well, if the conversation flows, as it often does, I really enjoy the sessions because they are an extended chat. They add to my cultural briefing on Spain. The exchanges have to go further than "hello, how are you?" and people are expecting linguistic problems so there is none of the feeling of failure if one of the speakers tries an extended discourse. Serpentine as the monologue of one of the speakers may be, however many times there are attempts to reform the phrase so it makes sense, the other person tries to hang on to the sense and to encourage the speaker.

There are some interesting characters; a bloke who doesn't eat anything that's been cooked, another, an Argentinian, with a Uruguayan background who is a rice chef at a classy local restaurant and a professional waitress who has been moving between jobs trying to find something more permanent. Last night I got a man who has sent the last dozen years teaching Spanish in Serbia, in Belgrade, with the Cervantes Institute.

But it wasn't the intercambio that I intended to write about. It was that thing that the only expectation on the attendees is that they buy a drink, or two.

Despite avoiding water I think I drink quite a lot. I drink tea in a pint pot and, when I have the time, I think nothing of drinking a couple of pints on the trot. I drink juice with breakfast, I drink pop, coffee and non alcohol beer in bars. I tend to drink quickly too. I drink wine, brandy and beer at the same sort of speed as Coca Cola which is one of the reasons that I'm trying to have a bit of an alcohol break at the moment. I don't think I'm unusual. Maggie drinks plenty of liquid too and so did my mum's friends when I visited the UK a couple of weeks ago. There aren't many Britons whose first offer to a guest entering their house isn't a drink - tea, coffee, soft or hard depending on the time of day and the circumstances. At any British event the bar is usually pretty crowded.

Spaniards drink too of course but my impression is that they drink less. This isn't a bad or a good thing, it's not comparison of alcohol consumption, it's a comparison of volume and something I think marks a difference. I did look for empirical evidence and I found something from the European Food Safety Authority which listed the UK consumption, per person, as being 1598ml per day as against 820ml for Spaniards but it was a long and learned paper, which I couldn't be bothered to read, so there may be all sorts of provisos against those figures.

In all of the weeks that I've gone to the intercambio I have at least two drinks and sometimes three. We are, after all, sitting at a café table. My Spanish partners don't. Everybody has a drink but they usually stop after the first. Whilst I feel slightly uncomfortable occupying a table with an empty glass or cup in front of me neither the bar staff nor the locals seem at all worried that people are doing just that.

Obviously there are exceptions. Spaniards go out drinking too and they can put plenty away. A good meal is often accompanied by copious quantities of alcohol and the "botellón", a gathering of young people in a public place to socialize and drink alcohol, is very common and is considered, by some, to be a social problem.

Right, that'll do, piece written, I think I'll put the kettle on and get a cup of tea. I deserve it.

A swift half

I saw some article or advert about a micro brewery in Novelda a while ago.

We don't work on Wednesday afternoon; either of us. "Do you fancy a beer?" I asked Maggie. She said yes. We found the place OK. It looked decidedly closed but there was a bar next door and it seemed logical that the bar would have the local beer.

We went in. It wasn't a flash bar. It could probably do with a bit of a refit though the regulars probably like it as it is. There were lots of men, my age, playing dominoes or just sitting there nursing a beer. Fluorescent lights. There was a woman behind the bar and one female customer. We were a bit out of place. The beer, Exulans, was on display, a couple of third of a litre bottles on the bar.

"Hello, can we have a couple of bottles of the beer from next door, please."
"No. We don't have any." Moment of indecision. "Hang on though, I'll check in the back." The woman wanders off for a while. "No, we don't have any."
"Just a couple of whatever you have then, please."

We settled in, well we sort of perched on the stools at the bar, a bit uncomfortably. After a while the woman behind the bar engaged us in conversation. The problem it turned out was that the brewery was usually closed. The workers only turn up from time to time so the bar had not been able to replace their stock. Whilst she was speaking to us a man came to the bar to order another drink. As the woman continued to talk to us the man tapped a coin noisily and impatiently on the bar. The woman wasn't having that sort of behaviour and she told him so but it was obviously time for us to go. So we did.

I'm off to Walk the Dog

Booze and fags are pretty cheap in Spain. At least I think they are. I haven't bought either in the UK for quite a while now so I'm just going on what visitors tell me. Certainly booze, in the form of home produced, Spanish, brandy is endangering my already weakened liver and my lungs are as claggy as those pits that trapped the woolly mammoths. That's thanks to ten cigars for the princely sum of 6€. To be fair I haven't actually smoked a cigar for a couple of weeks but my guess is the damage is done and that death by asphyxiation is round the corner.

When I was young pubs were tied houses, The Savile was Websters, The Wellington Bass, the New Inn was Ramsden's or maybe Bentley's Yorkshire Beers. Of course in time all the little breweries became part of huge conglomerates so it was Watney's or Ind Coope or Tetley's who owned the boozers. The last time I was in the UK that system seemed to have largely disappeared and pubs sold a variety of beers with improbable names. In Tesco's and Sainsbury's I presume there are still shelves and shelves of bottled beer from around the world.

Generally, in Spain, beer is beer. Obviously there are taste differences between the brands but, almost without exception, it's a light, alcoholic and fizzy pilsener type lager. Each region tends towards a particular manufacturer though the big brands are always available somewhere. Individual drinkers may have a preference for Mahou or Cruzcampo or Alhambra but, in general, brand is nowhere near as important as temperature. Beer has to be cold. On the two occasions when I have attempted to interest Spaniards in drinking British bitter they have complained loudly about the temperature - it's like broth - without mention of the taste.

There have always been a few, readily available, Spanish beers that have been out of the ordinary though the only two I can instantly bring to mind are Yuste and Voll Damm. Yuste is a beer with its roots back in the time when Spain ruled the Low Countries and is a dark Belgian type ale whilst the Voll Damm is a dark double malt lager. But suddenly, on the counter tops of bars all over Spain, there are lots of bottles of different beers on display. They don't seem to get drunk much but there they are.

Just to prove it to myself I had a look at the Cruzcampo site where there is Cruzcampo Cruzial with 100% selected hops (so the hops in their other beer aren't selected?), Cruzcampo Fresca (the authentic taste of recently brewed beer). On the San Miguel site they have a fresca too: it looks as though it may taste like the Mexican Corona or Sol whilst San Miguel Especial has toasted barley and overtones of licorice which is more or less the same description as San Miguel 1516. At least San Miguel Blu is different because it comes in a blue bottle and includes a touch of vodka. Actually the San Miguel site gives the year when each of these beers were introduced and lots of them have apparently been around for ages. I musn't have been looking! Even the local Murcia brewer, Estrella de Levante, has a beer called Punta Este on their website though there's no description of it, just a photo. Amstel Extra is for the bloke with strong emotions (really, that's how the blog translates) whilst Amstel Oro has the ingredients to be pretentious but prefers to be careful (and I thought education jargon was rubbish). Again, it seems that Amstel Oro, Amstel Gold, was introduced in 1956 so it's nearly as old as me.

And, alongside these bottles with different labels and differently coloured beer inside there are now, reasonably frequently, some local beers brewed in somebody's shed - artisan or craft beers. It's true that the outlet for most of them seems to be in the Mediaeval Markets and other street fairs but some bars do have them. Strangely one of the Spaniards who disliked English Bitter was also my drinking partner for some wheat beer and a pale ale tried over the summer at a Mediaeval Market in Teruel. He said he preferred proper, "industrial," beer.

One of the bodegas that Maggie uses for her wine tours, Casa de la Ermita, now does beer too under the name of Yakka. The last time I visited I tried their IPA. It wasn't that great to be honest but it was a nice change. I'm pretty sure that Yakka was actually started here in Pinoso, in the satellite village of Ubeda, because I tried their stout one cold November evening a couple of years ago at the Mediaeval Fair in Santa Catalina. A beer I sometimes drank when I lived in Cartagena, Icue, still looks to be alive and well too.

Who knows, give it another twenty years or so and it may be dead easy to get something other than industrially produced lager in Spanish bars.

Feeling Big John

It was hard to believe but, when I got up yesterday morning, the sun wasn't shining. In fact it was trying to rain. All day it was dull. Of course half of Spain is similar to the UK for summer rain with lush green meadows and contented cows but not our bit, our bit, not far from the Med, is picture book Spain. I've written about summer before but it's just such a wonderful thing that I can't not mention it again.

I haven't worn socks for weeks. My only real fashion choice is which colour T shirt to choose today. The sound of flip flops on the pavement is a summer sound. Generally the sun just comes on in the morning and goes out in the evening. And the light; it's just lovely - crystalline skies so blue that they're like a child's painting. The air is dry, a sort of dusty yellowy dry, that plays hell with the cleaning and makes the plants wilt but just makes it feel so - well, summery. And there are noises too. Things sort of move with the heat. Lifeless things move, things creak with the warmth. Live things move as well. The damned flies, millions of them. Little lizards often turn up in our living room as do any number of strange creepy crawlies. Nothing untoward, nothing too bity so far, but lots of them. And here, in the country, it's just one long sound concerto. The birds are relentless - chip, chip, chirruping as long as there is any light. Then of course there are the cicadas and the grasshoppers, with their incessant reverberating drumming. The dogs don't care whether it's winter or summer. Country dogs bark and bark and bark and shatter the evening quiet whatever the season.

Beer is always cold in Spain and chilled glasses are as common as muck. In winter that can seem out of place but in summer it's as right as right can be. The drops of water form on the outside of the glass. You have to be careful though - it's so easy to just have a "cervecita",  in the shade, without thinking about it being alcohol. If you have to drive, never mind, the pop is just as chilled but, somehow, it doesn't feel quite so Mediterranean. And if the drinks are chilled so is the food - fruit and salads and things that glisten with summer colour replace those tasty but drab and calorific winter dishes. Lovely.

Alicante summers are simply splendid.

Repeating history and a traditional snack

The Santa Catalina district of Pinoso is probably the most "Spanish" part of the town. To we Brits she's Saint Catherine, the one that the spinning fireworks are named for. Not surprisingly the neighbourhood that bears her name celebrates her feast day and, over the years, the festival has become quite a big event in the town.

The feast day proper centres on hogueras or bonfires that are set up on nearly every street corner. I've mentioned Sana Catalina in not one, or two but three blog entries over the past five years. We missed the bonfires this time because we were out of town.

A new departure for the fiesta this year is that there is a Mediaeval Market. We've just been up there to have a nose. It was pretty quiet to be honest. The stallholders were blaming the football and the cold in equal measure. I'm with the ones who thought it was too cold to venture out. The temperature difference between Culebrón, 600m above sea level, and coastal Cartagena is very noticeable. I think it's perishing.

There was a stall that caught my eye though. A beer stall. Yakka beers. There was just a drop of deja vu here because the last time we went to one of these markets was for the Romans and Carthaginians festival in Cartagena. There I bumped into a micro brewery beer called Icue. So, in the perishing cold and speaking abominable Spanish to the bearded, alternative lifestyle looking, stall holder I found out that there's now a microbrewery just down the road from us here in Culebrón. I tried the wheat beer (bit fruity for my taste) and brought home a bottle of stout.

The stout went very nicely with some local cheese that Maggie bought whilst I was sampling the beer but even more so with some Stilton that we picked up in a Pinoso supermarket today. That's the first time I've ever seen Stilton in Spain, the first Stilton I've tasted for over seven years. Stilton and stout. It sounds so Dickensian.

It tasted yummy.