Howling Hops


As brewpubs go, it’s hard to beat The Cock, former home of Howling Hops - but they’ve had a good go. This is a beerhall that’s 50 per cent central Europe, 50 per cent post-industrial and 100 per cent new, for London at least. At one end of the room there are 10 silver-grey tanks filled with beer made on-site; there are long lines of trestle tables and low wooden benches, there’s a hatch where you can pick up food (such as the ‘big fuck-off tray of meat’, £26 for two people). The beers are pretty good; the Pils, a 4.6 Bohemian pale lager is a decent representation of the style while the cloudy, spicy, aromatic Rye Wit hit the target on a warm day. Beers are served in ⅔-sized fat-bottomed glass mugs, in the Czech style. At the back are sacks of malt, chosen by someone who knows their stuff: there’s Weyermann and Warminster, the Citra and Nelson Sauvin of the maltsters world. Everything seems just-so.