It was at a set of afternoon drinks on a warm summer evening in late 2005 that I first heard of the Twisted Hop. We were discussing the gassiness of New Zealand tap beer when my learned friend Phil, who is a retired semprini dealer in Christchurch, announced "I have discovered the Twisted Hop." We resolved at once to meet there so he could show me the beer. True to his word, we met at the Hop a couple of days later. Poplar Lane was not the thriving hub that it later became at that stage. The Twisted Hop was just one level and the lane was shared by a number of empty buildings, RedJacks and several brothels (I'm not joking). Vespa was on the verge of opening. Phil and I sat outside in the sun to enjoy my first pint of Challenger at a leaner that was bolted to the wall underneath a flowering hop bine. It was a revelation. I had enjoyed watching the cascade effect of the pint being and the intense grassy hoppiness of the scent of the beer. To taste, it was a riot of bitterness on a level I had never tasted before but would frequently exceed in the future. My first thought was 'bleurgh!" and similar to the experience of my first pint of Guinness, I persevered. Half way down the pint and also probably because of Phil's excellent company, I warmed to the pint and developed the conclusion that the stereotypical perception of British beer being warm and flat was a bit of a nonsense. I found that it was served just below room temperature and with a fine tingle of carbonation. I was also incredibly surprised that the flavour could be heightened by the slightly higher serving temperature. All I needed was to learn to enjoy more flavour in my beer. There were a few visits to the Hop after that, if only to get away from my usual haunts. Then something changed.
Happier times. |
What changed was my employment. In March 2006 I wrote a comment in the duty manager's book where I worked at the Excelsior that got me sacked. It was a lengthy discourse as to my disappointment in the handling of the bar and the lack of follow through on promises of refurbishment and pay rises by the then-owner. I also said that he was a fat rich prick who cared more for the stitching on the seats of his new Ferrari than he did for the public face of his company. Since then I have learned that grand gestures, while satisfying at the time, are not as preferential as a quiet, dignified, diplomatic exit. I needed a job and so I went around the corner and applied at the Hop, who were losing Sally, one of their stars. Sally is gorgeous and so with me being only vaguely presentable it was only the additional string to my bow in presenting pub quizzes that got me the job, and what a job. As a bar job, it expanded my horizons and appreciation of beer from being a commodity that got people plastered to one that was an enjoyable flavour and a sociable conduit for conversation. People came to the pub to chat, play cards and eat. I cannot begin to tell you how much easier it is running a bar without these distractions. A point of pride for The Twisted Hop was that there were no pool tables, no poker machines and no television. The Hop was about beer and people.
Not an actual little sister, but she might as well be. |
Side by side with my best man, Denny Crane. 22 Feb 2007. |
The people at the Hop were special. Among them, some became my drinking cronies, my business partners, my best man and one of them my wife. I worked with a good crew behind that bar that like many crews went through all the Coronation St drama that hospitality attracts when people who work together fight and fornicate together. We worked well together and I recall fondly a procession of talented people, beautiful people and funny people. Twisted Hop former bar alumnus include lawyers, a former lawyer who played golf every day for a year around the world, an architect, journalists, a radiation therapist, and a bevvy of hardened hospitality professionals. There were also musicians, chefs and brewers that I now count among my friends. It was the company of these people that made for two of my fondest memories of being at The Twisted Hop: the first was having an afternoon off to lean against the bar with a couple of pints, some cheese and the cryptic crossword. Some of the regulars and I would attempt to conquer it daily with mental acrobatics and then after we were done we would talk about the pressing issues of the day and engage in friendly disagreement peppered with jokes; the other situation was when we would finish a busy shift on a Friday or Saturday night and sit down knackered for a staffie (a pint shouted for us by the pub), maybe another pint (paid for by us) before buying a few interesting beers from the fridge and heading away to a session of pontificating, smoking cigars and sampling beer. These became known as the Denny Crane Sessions and rank as being one of the happiest convivial experiences of my life.
I am not tempted to write witty caption because I actually find this saddening. |
Goodbye Poplar Lane.
Immediately following February's earthquake (photo taken by Martin Bennett) |
And up the lane looking toward Lichfield St immediately after the February quake (photo by Martin Bennett) |
In its current state, 5 July 2013 |
On the right was the storeroom and offices that I hosed down the hosers from. The doorway with 148 was the entry to our neighbour, the dominatrix dungeon. |
Commisar - your live traffic feed places me as "A visitor from Rome, Lazio", which seems rather too exotic. I am but a humble soul from Kirkcaldy, a place aptly described by a local paper thus: http://www.thecourier.co.uk/news/local/fife/msps-say-urban-dictionary-s-description-of-kirkcaldy-is-no-laughing-matter-1.68539.
ReplyDeleteI applaud your nostalgia and tribute to a special place. We all loved it. Strangely (or perhaps not), the Hop's passing into the abyss - or another incarnation, at least - makes it all the more beautiful for me, as a heartwarming strand in a fond chapter of my life. The only constant in life is change. The only proper session pint is Golding. And the only proper way to spend a Friday night after work is a Denny Crane Session with pals.
Let's swirl our glasses; and look back and forward, in December. Much love, jp