Nuts, said Simon.  I detected apricots.  They’re related, y’now, almonds and apricots, said Simon knowledgeably.  We were tasting the Old Speckled Hen in the 17th century Two Chairmen pub.   Outside, around the corner from Trafalgar Square, central London, it was tipping it down.

Simon Longue (”Longey, like your ex-P.M., old boy!”) and I had run for shelter and to hear the gossip from barman Robbie, as round and jolly as the barrels he rolls about the ancient cellars, and do a little tipping ourselves.

“Th’ Ol’ Speckled ‘En’s good,” Robbie advised.  We hesitated.  It’s a strong, pale ale, 5.2% alcohol by volume.  Courage Directors and Ruddles County bitters were on offer, too, and an afternoon only just begun.  Just one, we ordered in unison.

“Brewed in me home town, Abingdon,” said Simon, adding unnecessarily, “Oxfordshire.”  I examined the beer-engine label  –  Morland and Co plc., Abingdon, Oxon, with trademark of  George Morland, descendant of the founder, artist and bibber with palette and tankard, peri-wig, red frockcoat and tricorn  –  and murmured thoughtfully: “Odd name for a beer.”

“Goes back to 1927, or so I’m told,” said Simon, his tall pint pot already showing signs of serious depletion.  As I savoured the ale’s noisette nose and dry malt palate he went on: “That’s when M.G. Motors produced a one-off saloon, a canvas-covered job.  Didn’t seem to think it would sell so they used it as a factory vehicle. Painted it gold flecked with black.”  The pot emptied. “Factory staff called it the ‘old speckled ‘un’.  Name got corrupted to ‘the old speckled hen’ like these things do, y’know.”

Cockney Robbie had heard it all before but paused in his tumbler polishing and picked up our empty mugs.  “Bloke in ‘ere ‘ad four pints t’other nigh’.   Was callin’ it ol’ pickled chicken and cacklin’ like one before I sent ‘im ‘ome.”  Robbie cares as much for his customers as he does for his brews.  Chortling, he pulled two more lightly-tanned pints and peered critically at the faintly oatmeal-coloured head, studying depth and density.

Simon was not to be side-tracked. “Then M.G. asks Morlands to produce a special ale to mark the 50th anniversary of their Abingdon works.  Morlands come up with this and name it after the old car. Odd, eh?”  Nothing odd about the beer, I observed.  Morlands have been brewing since before Captain James Cook, R.N., was born, 1711 actually, and gets the dry finish for Old Speckled Hen from a strain of yeast it’s used since before the turn of the century … the 20th, of course.

“Really!” said Simon.

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Tags: ale, humour