Real Ale and Rockin' Blues Festival, Sebright Arms, Bethnal Green

One of the hazards of formally announcing the arrival of Britain’s craft beer revolution is that it puts heaps of pressure on the business and small upstarts in particular. It’s a double-edged sword. Healthy competition and a desire to stand out by way of genuine innovation is obviously a good thing, but there’s also a danger of stagnation: either dozens of Brew Dog clones announcing themselves, or long spells with nothing worth shouting about because potential brewers don’t want to risk paling into comparison to the Scottish mavericks. At present, these are thankfully just minor unfounded fears to bear in mind for the future, as a recent tasting of three new London microbreweries revealed the next wave of the capital’s craft brews to match the quality of their predecessors.

The star of my Saturday afternoon spent drinking – ahem, researching - at last weekend’s Real Ale and Rockin’ Blues Festival at the Sebright Arms near Bethnal Green was undoubtedly the Weird Beard Brew Co’s Single Hop No.7 Summit IPA. Lightly hazy in colour due to the dry hopping process, its subtle nose belied a truly explosive palate: slightly sweet and delicately floral, it was packed with exotic fruit flavours. Perhaps it’s just my imagination, but I was getting serious hits of kiwi and guava from that bad boy. Comparisons are lazy but inevitable: its quality couldn’t help but remind me of some of Kernel’s single hop offerings, but don’t get me wrong, this was no mere knock off. It was as fresh, unique, and vibrant a bottled beer as I have had the pleasure to sup in a long time, and if this effort is anything to judge by, then Weird Beard Brew Co look a good bet to take a seat in Britain’s pantheon of elite craft brewers.

Pitt Cue Co, Soho

One of the problems with being an aspiring food and drink writer is that you devote so much of your time to food and drink. Of course, this sounds both hypocritical and contrarian – surely that’s the bloody point, isn’t it? Let me explain. Writer A may know a bit about food. He may have eaten at some great restaurants in his time. He may be able to impress his less gastronomically-inclined friends at dinner parties. His opinion, therefore, on matters culinary may be considered mildly educated, even occasionally fit for consumption by the general public. The problem arises when you realise that you are so into food that you no longer eat at bad restaurants. You read so many blogs, reviews, restaurant guides, and Top Ten/Best Of lists that going out to lunch or dinner on a whim seems, well, very 90s.

So until the time comes when you are respected enough to be invited to review a restaurant – which in my case is likely to be somewhere between a cold day in hell and the end of the world – why would you gamble a sizeable chunk of change on an unknown entity? Partly, this is a by-product of having an obsession with food. Partly, it’s also basic recession economics – we eat out less, so we take more care when we do so. Of course, you can still have a bad experience at what is considered a good restaurant – Burger & Lobster dramatically overcooked my burger, for instance, and in retrospect I am less than enamoured with the downstairs restaurant at Roti Chai. Still, it has become increasingly apparent that my gastro-obsessive nature often unwittingly compromises the vitality of my critical streak. Sorry – ‘Writer A’s’ critical streak.

Why is such a preamble necessary? Because two nights ago I went to Pitt Cue Co and a gushing review is imminent. It was everything I expected, wanted, craved and so much more. BBQ is like crack to me. Though New England is hardly the BBQ capital of the States – that would be Texas, North Carolina, or Kansas depending on who you ask and where they’re from – it’s still full of Americans and where you find Americans you inevitably find a healthy tradition of grilling and smoking various hunks of flesh. So while I’ve never travelled far enough afield to be considered a total guru on matters of the pit, my palate is still trained to detect quality smoked fare – whether it’s at a classic backyard booze-up or on a trip to a delicious dive like the Blue Ribbon BBQ in Arlington, MA.

The Scavenger Gourmet's Top 10 Brews for Christmas (and the Cold Months)

N.B. – The Scavenger Gourmet would like to apologise. It appears he had a bit too much fun doing the ‘research’ for this blog and has only just realised that it is, in fact, February now. Whoops. Still, these ten beers aren’t just for Christmas – they’ll complement our cold, shit weather perfectly for months to come.

Treasured food and drink pairings like champagne and smoked salmon, port and Stilton, and sherry or whiskey with dried fruit and nuts are all associated with the festive season, while few aspects of our existence seem quite as ritualised as getting pissed at the office party or quietly sipping brandy around the fire with friends and family. Like it or not, Christmas is as inextricably linked with booze as it is to the mistletoe, Santa Claus, and depraved mothers ramming you up the backside with prams on the high street.

Elliot's Cafe, Borough

One of the biggest joys of studying in Elephant and Castle is the fact that every day I get to leave the place, and head out to to areas I actually enjoy going to of my own free will. Monday lunch was one such occasion where I was able to make the most of my university’s location by going elsewhere. On the recommendation of Daniel Young (he of Young and Foodish fame) and his Top 10 Burgers in London list, I made a beeline for Elliot’s Café in the heart of Borough Market. Having big pimped it by the sea the previous evening, I was now craving a top-notch example of steak’s trailer park cousin.

I went to the right place.Elliot’s offers only one burger – a cheeseburger - and I’m beginning to think that a great many establishments should follow their lead and stick to the basics, because this was one exceptional patty. Soft, juicy, and tender – the pedigree of the meat from the neighbouring Ginger Pig was evident – it was served medium-rare and came precisely as advertised. By that I mean it was pink, oh so beautifully pink, and not the gray, slug-like medium-rare that many gastro pub ‘chefs’ sling out.