The Angel is famous for the quality of the beer it sells.
On first entering the pub, you may be deceived by the appearance of those ghastly neon-lit fizz taps on the bar, purporting to sell genuine Irish nonsense, fizzy apple juice and cross-channel imitations of cold tea.
Worry not. Seek and ye shall find. Ask and it shall be purveyed unto you.
Like all good specialist establishments, The Angel concentrates on doing what it does, in small quantities, but well. The Greene King IPA, which is the mainstay of the pub's custom, comes straight from the barrel - no tap, no gas - and is normally superb. Just occasionally, you may find a pint which is below par, as a barrel reaches its end. If so, tell the management. They may swear at you, and then change it, for this is the living beer. Two visits by incognito beer inspectors resulted in Mo being awarded top marks - literally - for the quality of both the IPA and the more specialist Abbot Ale.
David and Janet have maintained (with a vengeance) the quality of the beer, although they are less likely to keep Abbot.
Abbot is a strong ale, which sells well, but in smaller quantities. It has a (monklike) habit of sneaking up behind you and converting you when you are not looking. All that remains is a distinct feeling of well-being and "Did I really say that?"
Recent innovations in the licensed trade have allowed a little diversification, and experiments with guest beers are a regular feature of the Angel. Marstons Pedigree, Morland's Old Speckled Hen and Gales HSB have all been excellent, and of course, brilliantly served.
Our ambitious brewers - Greene, King - are never one's to miss a trick, and they've also started adding "special" ales to their repertoire of late. Most notable has been Triumph . This is a "celebration" of the famous British motor manufacturer. It comes in at 4.3 ABV, which is reasonable without being unnecessarily midweek head-splitting, and retails at the (for The Angel) premium price of £2.10. It is excellent drinking, and already a firm favourite, particularly with the nostalgic motor-cycle brigade (Jos) which gathers in the corner.