Top 10 Beers of the Year
Theakston Old Peculier (Masham, North Yorkshire, England) It feels a little, well, peculiar putting a beer that’s been in production since around 1890 into a 2025 list. But Old Peculier isn’t just one of the best beers I’ve had all year—it’s the best beer I enjoyed this year, period. I’ve often found myself going a block or two out of my way to visit the Salisbury—the only pub in Manchester that has it on cask permanently—to savor a pint or three of its ester-driven, open-fermented, dark, delicious weirdness. Quite frankly, there is no other beer like it, and I want to drink it all the time.
Blackjack In Simpatico (Manchester, England) Founded in 2012, Blackjack stepped up its game in a big way this year, especially with its lager program. From sharp, crisp pilsner to soft, bready helles, their Smithfield Market Tavern taproom was a shining beacon of crispy little beers all summer. This Italian-style pils—inspired by both Jever and Tipopils—was the one to which I kept returning. A generous dry hop of German Hersbrucker and Australian Ella combines to provide sharp refreshment with a pungent, herbaceous boom of resinous hops.
Sacred Profane Dark Lager (Biddeford, Maine) Consuming many pints of Allagash White wasn’t the only thing I got to cross off my bucket list when in Maine. Sacred Profane’s Dark Lager was the most impressive beer of my trip—triple-decocted to perfection, served from imported Czech tanks via Lukr dispense, with a thick, dense head of foam, it channeled everything that is perfect about tmavy ležák into a beer that extended my visit to the “tankpub” to nearly four hours.
Track Sifting (Manchester, England) It feels very much like New Zealand hops are having a moment, and we are all reaping the rewards. Channeling a boatload of Californian influence, Manchester’s Track has led the charge in bringing the most contemporary version of West Coast–style IPAs to British taste buds. A collab with Seattle’s Fast Fashion and New Zealand’s Freestyle Hops, Sifting is generously dry-hopped with Nectaron, Nelson Sauvin, and Riwaka. It bursts with oily lupulin that packs in gooseberry, white grape, and mango, tempered by a satisfyingly prickly finish.
Scatterlings Vooma (Virginia Water, Surrey, England) Given the merest of opportunities, I’ll wax lyrical about how exciting the British wild-beer scene is at the moment. Case in point is this soft and delicate-yet-complex beer being produced by Brett Moore at Scatterlings. Somehow finding time away from his day job as head brewer at Windsor’s Two Flints Brewing, Moore is producing barrel-aged, mixed-fermentation beers that focus on nuance and subtlety (as opposed to ostentation and intensity). Vooma is a blend of 12- and 30-month barrel-matured beer; its grainy complexity from raw wheat, rye, and Chevallier malt is tempered by a gentle acid profile and kick of citrus from a dry hop of Sovereign and Akoya.
The Kernel Nitro Stout (London) As Guinness continues to assert its dominance as Britain’s most popular beer, independent breweries have scrambled to produce their own versions in hopes of lapping up some of that fervor. Then there’s the Kernel in London. Perhaps best known for its enthralling range of pale ales and IPAs, the brewery has approached the dry Irish stout category in a way that’s typically its own. Combining sumptuously creamy mouthfeel with a riotous hop hit more akin to American stout, the Kernel’s stands out with a sense of individuality and the immense satisfaction it provides.
Utopian Regenerator (Crediton, Devon, England) If lager features heavily on my list, it’s only because British lager brewers have really found their groove of late. Chief among them is Devon’s Utopian, where head brewer Jeremy Swainson is working magic with all-British ingredients—you can, apparently, make pitch-perfect lager with Fuggle and Goldings. I enjoy all of Utopian’s beers, but this autumnal doppelbock remains the most enchanting to me. Lagered 10 weeks and packaged at 7.5 percent ABV, Regenerator packs in plenty of dried stone fruit and a detailed yeast profile that evokes fresh-baked bread; all that with the smooth, dry finish makes ordering a second glass practically inevitable.
Sarah Hughes Dark Ruby (Sedgley, West Midlands) Stationed idly on a main road opposite a convenience store and a fish-and-chip shop, the off-white exterior of the Beacon Hotel is as unassuming as any other village pub. Yet this one happens to have, at its rear, the Victorian-era tower brewery from which Sarah Hughes Dark Ruby mild is born. If you want to get a feel for what English beer might have tasted like 100 years ago, this is the answer. Expect a rich medley of figs and dates on the palate, with a rounded, lingering sweetness that is satisfying and never cloys.
Pillars Festbier (London) One (long, hefty) sip of this annual release was enough to convince me it belongs on this list. British-brewed festbier wasn’t really a thing until recently—and why would they be, with German imports readily available? But with British breweries starting to excel at craft lager, this crisp yet full-bodied take is a convincing explanation for why the U.K.’s drinkers are embracing this particular German tradition so wholeheartedly.
Thornbridge Jaipur (Bakewell, Derbyshire, England) The Sheffield Tap, found inside Sheffield Station, is a pub I’ve seen a lot of this year, changing trains while travelling the length and breadth of the U.K. I spent most of that time contemplating pints of Thornbridge Jaipur, the sumptuous American-style IPA that changed the game here in Britain when it first appeared in 2005. Its beauty is in its simplicity: that classic, rasping, citrus bitterness paired with the cracker-crunch of malt. It’s best enjoyed on cask, and better still if the seldom-seen version made on Thornbridge’s recently acquired Burton Union system is available—it somehow brings an extra dimension of softness to the beer.
The Beer I Probably Drank the Most this Year
My beer-drinking year would not have been the same without the resurgence of Bass Pale Ale. Although no one over here calls it a pale ale—this is a British bitter—it’s an instigator, a paragon that somehow seems to be finding its way back onto the pedestal where it belongs. Despite the brand being owned by AB InBev and despite it being brewed under license by Carlsberg at Marston’s in Burton-upon-Trent, it remains an icon of brewing history. It represents English beer culture in the same way Guinness represents Irish, and like its counterpart is enjoying a nostalgia-fueled resurgence. The best thing about the beer? It’s really good, and it’s appearing in more pubs up and down the land, daily.
What Convinced Me that Craft Beer Is Not Dead
In early September I spent three hours bellied up to the bar at Portland, Maine’s Novare Res. The Maine-based beer café is a place I had desired to visit for many years, with many people espousing to me over the years that it’s their favorite beer bar. What I loved most about it, however, is how familiar it felt, reminding me of my own favorite beer bar, Manchester’s Café Beermoth. From the first sip of Munro, a strong Scotch ale pouring on cask from Saco, Maine’s Barreled Souls to the glass of De Dolle Oerbier I probably didn’t need at the end, every minute spent in this hallowed bar reminded me of how wonderfully exciting beer can still be and how it’s worth getting out there to experience it while you can.
A Song, a Beer, a Moment
I was in Birmingham the week after Ozzy Osbourne died, and the word “poignant” would not have done the atmosphere justice. It felt like the entire city was a giant memorial, with floral tributes and flyposted images of a young Ozzy everywhere. I walked the city to soak it in before heading to The Wellington, a classic pub in the heart of Birmingham with 14 real ales on handpull. My choice that day was Old Hooky, a classic British bitter from Hook Norton in Banbury, Oxfordshire. As it turns out, it’s a beer that pairs exceedingly well with repeat listens to “Paranoid,” which sounds as unholy as ever 55 years on. RIP, Ozzy.
