Friends of Ham

Destination bars are by no means a new concept; I’ll bet as long as people have been drinking alcohol they have been willing to travel to indulge themselves. Making that effort to find the perfect drinking experience depends, I think, on what kind of booze-hound you are; some go to Victorian-explorer levels of commitment to visit the newest bars. Plenty, of course, can’t be arsed in any way, being content with repeated visits to somewhere nearby that has one or two suitable options, and a decent range of packet nuts. Me, well, as you might expect I fall somewhere in the middle – if I happen to be away on the road and end up within stumbling distance of the latest multi-tap sensation, then I’ll head along and see what the fuss is about.

Friends of Ham certainly fits the bill – since it opened last year, the name has cropped up again and again, driven in part by the loyally active Leeds-area beer bloggers (a group as close-knit as a cricketer’s sweater on a humid afternoon). Their recommendations are more than good enough for me, so on a fleeting visit to the city, Friends of Ham it had to be. Finding the tiny entrance was easy – it looks like a small coffee shop sprung near the station. The tricky bit was getting in, as on a late Saturday afternoon it was packed. Scrummelling through the bodies, downstairs – which looks great, with standard mis-matched furniture and shuffleboard table (doubling as a coat stand) – it was just as busy.

Thankfully, after a bit of eagle-eyed seat jumping, we managed to pitch up at two of the four bar seats, right in front of the glistening tank of cold cuts.* This was a fantastic decision, as getting served without fording the haul of people in front of the bar made things all the better. The layout doesn’t help, in that regard, with such a small bar and no table service downstairs, there’s a lot of fetching and queuing. The staff – friendly and affable – were eternally bashing into each other and knocking elbows, all trying to occupy the central part of the bar at once. Thankfully, the meat slicing takes place at one end, out of reach.

*too much for some, a party of four middle-aged ladies came and went instantly as one said ‘Ooh no, look at that. It’s turning me stomach. Let’s go t’brewery tap’

It was great to watch the endless throngs of people arriving – some wading in, others taking a second glance and passing on. A large group of shaven-headed lads arrived, asking for lager. On being told their request worked out at seven pounds a pint, the round-getter paused for a moment, then acquiesced with a shrug “Ah, it’s alreet”. The prices are quite high, but Yorkshire high – drinking in Edinburgh, you realise that the north of England (for the most part) is seriously cheap by comparison. The beers on offer were worthy of the amount asked, particularly the wonderful new Summer Wine effort, Devil Loves Simcoe.

Also on offer, Odell’s Footprint – the ten-State, ten-ingrediented Harvest Ale that lit the eyes up on scanning the keg fonts. At 9.5%, some iberico was required beforehand – and truly lovely, it was – thankfully, I was told there was plenty in the keg, so had time to get through some of the other offerings first (such as Arbor’s excellent Bock Star). Just before leaving, time for the Footprint, and out it trickles, roughly a quarter of a pint left. Offered for free, it was amazing, and when told by the cheerful barman it was the only keg in Europe, I realised it was the beery equivalent of standing in the centre of a country and imagining being captured last in an invasion.

Clearly, the people of Leeds have taken to FoH in their droves; the beer rotated so fast during our visit that two of the three casks and three of the six keg lines had to be changed, in about three hours. I’m just glad I got to try Odell Footprint before it went. I liked Friends of Ham – but in truth, didn’t love it. Three times as many staff as toilets is strange, and as much as table service for drinks would make it more gastro, it would surely cut down on the queues at the bar. Maybe I’m being too picky. Or have been cosseted by the Vintage. I’d go back to Friends of Ham, certainly, but only if I had another destination taking me back to Leeds.