This is part two of two, featuring The Ten Bells and Prsopect of Whitby pubs, and Spitfire and Bombardier ales. If you missed part one, well, there's not really a reliance on chronological order here, but I do explain the whole concept behind the tour we took in part one.

Soundtrack for this portion of the tour (again, at least in my head, or while writing): "Gather in the Mushrooms: The British Acid Folk Underground"

Ten Bells: On the night of November 9, 1888, a prostitute by the name of Marie Kelly left a pub called The Ten Bells on the corner of Commercial and Fournier Streets, presumably to ply her trade with someone she'd met in the bar. She was young and still had her looks, which may explain why she was able to afford a room in which to practice her craft rather than do it in a dark alley or other such popular place for men to couple with women of ill repute. Whether or not that potential customer was Jack the Ripper we'll likely never know, but it was with the Ripper she had her next appointment, and it was in her room just a stone's throw from The Ten Bells that Saucy Jack, who himself had no doubt been sitting in The Ten Bells, murdered and mutilated his final (confirmed) victim. Thus that bloody chapter in the history of London, Whitechapel, and The Ten Bells came to a close.

Well, not exactly. Time heals old wounds, and once the Ripper murders were a grisly passage in a history book instead of current events, the down-on-its-luck East London neighborhood of Whitechapel wasn't above playing home to countless Ripper tours, t-shirts, and whatever else you can think of. The Ten Bells was eventually purchased by a proprietor who gave it the subtle tourist trap name Jack the Ripper before it was renovated and reverted to its original name in the 1970s. It sits across one street from Spitafields Market and across another street from the menacing Christ Church. Viewed amongst these landmarks exclusively, it's not hard to imagine a Victorian prostitute filing out of the front door of The Ten Bells followed by a shadowy figure in a great cloak and hat, carrying a leather satchel, or whatever it was the Ripper might be carrying. It was a shopping bag from Tescos for all I know. Expand your view, however, and you'll see that Whitechapel has rudely refused to remain stuck in a Victorian time capsule, and although still a somewhat blue collar neighborhood, it's as modern looking and plain as any other London neighborhood. Still, that doesn't stop the nightly Jack the Ripper walking tours, and if you take one, you'll need a strong narrator to guide you through and create a false sense of ambiance.

The Ten Bells pub is always a key stop in any Ripper tour, and that's gone from being an attractive way to bring in new clients to being a major pain in the ass, since most of the people on the tours are coming in to gawk and take some photos, but not to buy any drinks or crisps. These days, The Ten Bells is a perfectly average single-room neighborhood pub, not entirely inviting, and honestly, not all that interesting to look at. The renovation that took place during the seventies means that very little of the original décor remains, and the ambiance of the place can best be described as "unremarkable." It's just a place where locals go to talk loud, have a pint, and listen to one of the worst selections of music in any pub in London -- and this takes into account the dreadful music that was playing in The Mayflower when we were there. Backstreet Boys? Really, now. So if you want to tour sinister spots in London, you have to stop at The Ten Bells, even if it's unimpressive as a pub. But be a sport, and if you go in, buy a drink or two. If nothing else, maybe it'll help them purchase better CDs.

Spitfire: I admit that I'll drink pretty much anything named after a weapon or military aircraft, so I was happy to run across Shepherd Neame's Spitfire, originally brewed in 1990 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Battle of Britain, which you can learn abot from any decent history book or, better perhaps, from the movie Battle of Britain starring Michael Caine and pretty much every other famous British actor from the time. Spitfire is created from a blend of English malts, which dominate the flavor and mix well with a hint of toffee (oh, those Brits and their toffees) and citrus spice that comes from the hops. Kentish hops, to be precise, which is fitting since the Battle of Britain took place over those very hops fields. I presume there are different hops growing there now than the ones from 1940, but they've still been heartily nurtured with blazing aerial combat, which is where they get that delicious flavor that goes into every pint of Spitfire. Shepheard Neame Brewery claims to have been in steady production since the late 1600s, and since I wasn't around at the time, I'm going to accept their claim at face value. All in all, a spectacular ale with a full body, very refreshing and easy to drink. Spitfire is one of the more common ales around town, so it shouldn't be too hard to track down a pint or two. How many am I at now? Obviously the number is getting up there if I can't clearly recollect.

Prospect of Whitby: Ahh, now here's a pub I was looking forward to, not that I don't look forward to just about any pub. But this one, the last one for the night, combines everything from the Sinister London Tour with everything from the Historic Pubs tour. Prospect of Whitby was built in 1520 on the banks of the Thames and, by the 17th century it had become one of the most notorious haunts of smugglers, pirates, rakehells, ne'r-do-wells, rascals, rapscallions -- you name it, and they were probably drinking at the place that became known as Devil's Tavern. Rumor -- probably started by the pub itself some time after the fact -- locates the infamous Execution Dock right outside the pub's back door. Execution Dock is where particularly unsavory characters were executed in a manner befitting their lives as waterborne criminals. They were lashed to a leg of the dock during low tide and left there to drown when the tide came in. Legendary pirate Captain Kidd met his end on that dock, as did many others. Of course, not far down the street is a pub called The Captain Kidd that claims to be the location of Execution Dock -- sort of how every church in Europe has the original nails from the Crucifixion.

As I have put my life of swashbuckling piracy on the high seas behind me, the actual exact location of Execution Dock isn't of huge concern to me, especially after this many pints. What is important is how nice the pub is, and Prospect of Whitby is a spectacular pub on which to close the night. Deep brown wood with a beautiful pewter top bar highlight the large main area, and chairs an couches strewn about give you a lovely view of the river -- as well as a noose and gallows, just to establish mood. Upstairs is a restaurant, and there's additional dining space in another room on the ground floor. Our small crew sank deep into overstuffed couches for our final pub and final pint of the night. All in all, a spectacular evening. The tour guide was funny and charming, the pubs and haunts (I'll cover those later) were a blast, and the beer was better than I ever thought beer could be. Anyway, I could call Prospect of Whitby home, especially if the pirates and scalawags ever come back. Cap'n Kidd, this pint's for you.

Bombardier: It seemed fitting, at least to me, to end the night with something explosive, so why not another destruction-themed ale? Well's Bombardier has been called the definitive English bitter, and although my top honors for the night probably go to Abbot Ale, the distinctively copper-colored Bombardier certain ranks among the very finest beers I've had, all of which, frankly, were beers I had on this tour. Up until then, it was too-cold Guinness and Bodington's, though I'm certainly not planning on turning my back on Bod's any time soon, especially since there seems to be a dearth of pubs in New York keeping Spitfire, Bombardier, Abbot, or London Pride on tap. Guess I have to start haunting those crazy "400 different kinds of beer!" stores now to see what I can turn up stateside. Bombardier drinks rich but light, with complex fruity flavor and a hint of malt and caramel, as well as a slightly spicy scent. There's a lot going on with this ale, which could turn some people away from it, but if you take a little time out, Bombardier is decently pleasant. Apparently, improperly cared for Bombardier can turn pretty ugly, but properly stored and properly served, it's quite a treat.

Wells apparently also brews a banana nut bread beer. I...just don't know.

Labels: Drink