Our Queens would have frowned on that sort of thing, you know.
Charles Dickens and I have a long-shared history of pubs.
... without a paddle.
What is a Real Ale zombie to do when forced to endure a 26-hour train trip from NYC to South Florida?
But, what are the odds of stumbling over a cask or two, a little closer to home, down at the Jersey Shore?
There are three current recurring cask ale festivals scattered throughout Connecticut that I have managed to get to repeatedly over the last two or three years.