The Drink Valley, Swindon - UK's best desi taproom
Dhiraj Pujari is a British-Indian brewer who creates great beers served in a genuinely thrilling space
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Beer bloggers Boak and Bailey recently asked whether beer has lost its thrill. It’s a question I’ve been turning over in my head since I read this post a couple of weeks ago and have visited numerous different parts of the “beer scene”.
But before I decide if I feel I ever feel “thrilled” there’s something I should tell you: I’m not a fan of any term which suggests something as thoughtfully put together as a pint of beer or a pub is a trend that could fall in and out of favour. If something is good surely it stays good? And who determines if something is a scene? A beer writer? An influencer? But I’m going to put that to one side to look at the idea of experiencing beer in a thrilling way.
In the past few weeks I’ve visited large hyped bars, traditional pubs, micropubs and taprooms. I also went to GBBF on trade day this week which was difficult as a person of colour who now gets recognised at these events even when the second most prominent desi in beer turns up.
That aside I’ll never be known by some people, so it’s maybe thrilling in a different way to have to argue with the CAMRA volunteers - they wouldn’t let me take books into the hall because they didn’t believe I’m actually a beer writer (even though those books were published by, er, CAMRA Books).
Yes, brown people can write books on beer. And shout out to the white man who sought me out to tell me to aggressively “write books on British pubs”, which must be a marginalised subject these days despite the thousands of books on that subject - including my own.
But it’s still a gift to navigate these places as an author who is semi-known and can draw positive approval from other festival goers. More importantly, signing books at the CAMRA bookshop was a thrill that I can’t see waning. Ever.
Do I still get the thrill of beer, though? That’s rarer but it’s something I do experience and then, luckily, it gets to be translated as words on a page. I felt that visiting desi pubs for the first time was a thrill - exhilarating - and, consequently, it was a bit of a comedown when the book was finished and the travels ended.
A few weeks ago, though, I had to get a train to Swindon to revisit the book in time for when it's reprinted. Sadly this is because one entry - a pub in Slough, the Three Tuns has closed - and the owners moved their business to Hayes, West London. I decided that this was an opportunity to have the South West better represented and the owner of a pub in Bristol - the Fishponds - had opened up two more pubs since the book was published. (His other in Bristol: the White Harte is the one he’s the most proud of.)
My intention was to cover this Swindon pub, the Runner, for the book. It will be in there and it’s brilliant, superb food, great cask beer (it’s part of the Arkell’s estate) and 100% embedded in the community. A template for the perfect country-style desi pub.
In the high street, though, I found something even more thrilling. A desi taproom.
The only opposition I got to my book was that the pubs I featured don’t have “thrilling” beer and to a certain extent I agree. 95% of the boozers in the book have the usual slate of macro lagers that don’t excite me much because I prefer the opposite - cask or a craft brewed with passion. But preferring a Märzen over a Madri is a taste preference and when the latter is paired with a desi grill, I’m going to prefer that to the former where my only choice for a food pairing is expensive crisps. (Although I really don’t like Madri or those who serve it)
But still it nags away at me why can’t we have both? Why can’t we regularly have the finest craft or cask beers with really good desi food? Maybe it starts with brewing. If more British-Indians are involved in the beer-making process … it’s a huge issue because of systemic reasons. Everyone wants the industry to be more accessible but it feels just like a pipe dream at the moment - so instead we rely on occasional trailblazers of colour to lead the way.
Dhiraj Pujari is this. The Drink Valley in Swindon is the ultimate taproom in terms of beer, food and inclusion. All the cask lines (and most of the keg) are brewed by Dhiraj, the food is cooked by his wife, Deepali, and the space is light, airy and providing a more wholesome alternative to the various town centre bars - including a giant JD Wetherspoon opposite.
It’s all down to the Pujaris. Dhiraj (pictured above) studied his master’s in brewing and distilling in Heriot-Watt, Edinburgh in 2008, leaving South Asia for cold Scotland. “It was the first time I had left India,” he says, “Yes, it was a big culture shock.”
Dhiraj worked in Leeds when he graduated, was offered a job at Purity but eventually ended up at Malborough-based Ramsbury brewery. “When I started it was a 10-barrel brewery. Then they moved to 30 barrels, installed a distillery - so I was very important, production-wise.”
He worked there for nearly 10 years until 2020 but then going alone became feasible particularly because he was such a visionary character who could brew quality beers and enjoyed experimenting.
“My whole brewing career,” he tells me, “is in the UK so it’s cask [focused] but I personally prefer keg due to the fizziness. And nowadays craft means there’s hazy IPAs, DIPAs but with us the biggest sellers are our real ales.”
And these ales are excellent and because of the way Dhiraj brews the cask are just as “crafty” - yes, there are best-style bitters (which I adored) but also an IPA brewed with Simcoe hops (giving a nice grapefruit tone) called Go With The Flow.
“No recipe has been repeated and since we’ve opened [in September 2020] we’ve done 52 brews.”
Deepali’s most popular dish is railway chicken curry but as I was passing I wasn’t able to taste it. I’m sure to return sometime, as Swindon is quick on the train and is a lovely town. It has a strong desi contingent with Nepalese and/or Goan heritage.
As much as I loathe the word “scene” I also pour scorn on the word “authentic” but there’s something that sets this apart from any other desi taproom I’ve visited and makes that word pop into my head. Firstly the brewer is on hand, secondly drinks are king and food is secondary. But most of all this isn’t a man creating food and drink for a specific market in a glossy Instagram-friendly way. And this isn’t a hyped street food-style joint. It’s excellent small-scale brewing and home-style cooking.
Most crucially it’s somewhere for me to come back to that gave me that elusive thrill people have been missing. In this case its the thrill of discovering the finest desi pub that few people outside of Swindon know about.