I’ll never forget the first time I saw The Hope, but there were no external indications that the place might become one of my favourite pubs of all time. It’s found on quite a busy road on the outskirts of the delightful Carshalton village, with a narrow strip of pavement in front, meaning you never see the building from the frontal aspect.
It’s mostly red brick, and perhaps even a little bit nondescript. There was one clue as to its general excellentness outside though: an enormous number of empty casks, stacked and ready for collection. It’s not a smoking gun of course. It could be that the clientele just really fucking like D**mb*r.
Once inside I warmed to the hostelry, based purely at this stage on the ale selection. There were four keg taps for the more exotic pale ales (usually Verdant, Drop Project, DEYA etc.), four further keg taps that contained some very decent imported lager and some atrocious cider (de rigueur), followed by two more keg taps for sours. I realise now that I should have done this in bulletpoints, but I’m too lazy to change it. Then the casks.
Either side of the aforementioned keg taps are two handpulls of decent real ale, Knight of the Garter from Windsor and New Forest from Downton. Both 3.8%, perfectly serviceable. Around the bar are five further handpulls that always contain two dark beers, usually stout or porter, sometimes mild. They fly through the real ale here, so odds-on you’re getting a fresh pint rather than some vinegary old piss that’s been sat in the lines for a fortnight. Regular breweries you will find here are Arbor, Marble, Iron Pier, Elusive, Moor, and almost unbelievably, Kernel – on cask!
If you have something wrong with you and remain unsatisfied by what is listed above, there are two further keg taps further around the bar that dispense imperial stouts. Behind the bar are fridges stocked with a wide variety of imported or specialist cans and bottles. I wish I could shed some light on what the wine and spirit selection is like, but I’ve never wanted to stop drinking the beer.
I’m fully aware of how carried away I’m already getting whilst extolling the virtues of this fantastic pub, but it’s basically impossible to stop. It’s all so good, but in the interest of balance I will rack my brains in search of some negative shit too.
I took a seat in the snug. Those familiar with my rules of the pub will be aware that a snug is a positive boon, even if it is sited where the men’s bogs used to be. Once ensconced with a frothing pint of Kent Brewery Bitter, we ordered one of the pub’s pot meals. Usually around the eight pound mark, very tasty and very filling.
Around the corner from the bar is a shelf covered with books on beer and local history, including about twenty years worth of The Good Beer Guide, up to about 2014. I can understand why the guides stop. I can’t be arsed with CAMRA these days either.
Look, I need to take a break from this. It’s all too positive, and even a bit obsequious. It’s much more fun to write about shitholes. The review will be completed in volume two.
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