Six much smaller parcels located nearby (10-11555-Brewery Park Associates)

Two criteria that make a good vacation for TJ are beer and a beach, so when he came to visit me in London, I tried my best to get him to both. In terms of beer, the ultimate destination in London is Bermondsey, home to the Beer Mile, a collection six microbreweries and two beer outlets within walking distance. (With no sand in sight, the beach would have to come later.)

We started our tour on foot at Kernel Brewery, whose Mosaic beer I had added to my top 10 of all time after a try on a previous outing (left). The brewery, whose offerings have become so popular that they will soon close their cramped tap room, bases -- and names -- all of its beers on hop combinations. Sure, they're a bit beer snobby -- the note says, "Please do not put average beers that no one will drink in this fridge" -- but they appreciate Virginia's own Mad Fox Brewing Co., so they can't be all bad (right). And seriously, the beer isn't bad either.

Kernel is known for its plain, brown-paper labels, a simplicity that is a far cry from Fourpure Brewing Co., which had a high-tech computerized screen showing the availability of its beers, including the amount left in each barrel (left). Among the choices on tap was the summer ale I won for completing a scavenger hut during the London City Beer Festival. The only seating is outside, so we sought some shade among the industrial buildings to enjoy our beers with some mac and cheese from the food stand beside the garage (right).

 

Partizan Brewing is situated in an even smaller space; like many London microbreweries, it has retrofitted a former warehouse railway arch (left). But it has kept the same industrial touches. We leaned against a stack of wooden pallets as we sampled some beer (right). I had their Rasperry Lemon Saison at the London Brewers' Market, so I went with a non-fruity option, a straight-up pale ale.

 

By the third brewery, the lines were getting long, which made the name of Brew by Numbers particularly apt. The numbers on the chalkboard didn't refer to the quantity of customers, however; each BBN beer is given a four-digit name, with two digits each based on the style and recipe of the beer (left). Another unique number at the brewery was the pounds paid for the deposit on the peculiarly shaped glasses, which I can imagine go missing quite often (right).

By the time we got to Anspach & Hobday, the crowds seemed to be thinning out, maybe because the Saturday Druid Street market was shutting down (left). TJ managed to bag some Asian dumplings from one of the closing stands, while I snagged two beers and seats on the sidewalk. I was excited for this stop because A&H had put up a solid series of beers at a tasting I attended previously, but TJ was more interested in the decaying Marquis of Wellington across the street, where more daring drinkers than we were co-opting the picnic tables left among its weeds (right). (If you read the comments in the link, you'll get a good sense of why the pub is now shuttered.)

It seems we might've walked the mile backwards, as the last stop, at Southwark Brewing Co., was the least inventive (left). The beers weren't bad, but they came off as basic compared to the other flavors of the day. Luckily, we were able to revive our tastebuds with a spicy and delicious dinner at Ma Goa, where TJ found another form of grain he had been craving: roti (right).

A few weeks later, with TJ again exiled from London, I headed to another locale with barrels of booze within walking distance, the Green Man's Courtyard Welsh ale and cider festival (left). The festival was tucked away behind King's Cross train station, but the gastropub sponsor kindly built an actual "green man" to direct the way (right). 

 

I went on the the last day of the festival, so some of the selections were already spent, but even with the remaining choices, I had trouble deciding. So I started with a brewery I had stumbled across when I was planning a trip to Wales for TJ and me (We ended up not being able to take the trip, but hopefully, we will in the future). Brecon Brewing's Orange Beacons wheat saison didn't taste much like citrus, but it was still a refreshing choice for a sunny September afternoon (left). Indeed, there was a bit of an Oktoberfest feel on the benches as I tried third-pints of Pixie Spring Brewing's Devilfish Ink black IPA, Cwrw Ial Community Brewing Co.'s The Volunteer English bitter, Tudor Brewing's Skirrid traditional Welsh ale, and the Williams Brothers' Splanky medium cider (right).

 

My sixth and final choice, to make for two full pints in total, was inspired by the powerful lead singer of the first musical act of the day. The namesake of Rozi Plain had the voice -- and fringe -- of Jenny Lewis (left), while the band had the instrumentation of Bright Eyes, including a saxophone, and I am always a sucker for brass. I honored another strong woman by sampling Glamorgan Brewing Co.'s Jemima's Pitchfork, named after Jemima Nicholas, who captured 12 drunk French soldiers with only a pitchfork during the 1797 Battle of Fishguard, often called the "last invasion of Britain." The second act of the day was led by a man, Wesley Gonzalez, formerly part of the band Let's Wrestle but now performing "with guests." His opening song, "I am a Telescope," sounded like a mix between Belle and Sebastian, with no girl vocals, and They Might Be Giants, with more punk notes (right).