Lyndhurst feels too small to be the capital of anything. Home to a mere 3,000 souls, the town—the administrative heart of the 220-square-mile New Forest National Park in Hampshire, southern England—makes up for its small size with a surfeit of boutiques, traditional inns, and “Alice in Wonderland”-themed tea rooms (as well as, discordantly, the Southeast’s only official Ferrari dealer).
The girl said to have inspired Lewis Carroll’s fantastical tales, Alice Pleasance Hargreaves, might be Lyndhurst’s biggest claim to fame. She lived most of her life in and around the town, and is buried there, too, at the Gothic parish church of St. Michael and All Angels. Its graveyard has become a minor pilgrimage destination for fans of “Alice in Wonderland.” While I, too, count myself among their ranks—it wasn’t until early adulthood that I realized how much the Alice stories had fascinated me as a child—it’s not the reason I’m visiting now.
For all its surface charm, Lyndhurst lies at the heart of one of England’s wildest stretches of land. Established by William the Conqueror as a royal hunting ground in 1079, what is now the New Forest National Park is among the largest tracts of unenclosed woodland in the country. Its varied landscapes can feel untouched by modernity and exist on a mythic register, aided by the omnipresent ponies and cows who roam free across towns and across its ancient woods and open heathland.
Beer is also an integral part of the New Forest experience. It’s on offer in the national park’s classic country pubs, as well as the luxury hotels and fine dining restaurants whose concentration is hardly matched by any other rural region in the country. Ringwood is the New Forest’s most popular brewery; it began life as an independent operation before selling to pub and hotel operator Marston’s PLC in 2007 (which merged with Carlsberg in 2020). Its copper-colored Old Thumper, and the slightly paler Fortyniner, have long been mainstays on the Forest’s handpumps.
But the region’s beer scene has experienced notable development in recent years, even throughout the pandemic. From newly launched nano-breweries to craft breweries with an emerging regional weight, the New Forest has become an unexpectedly enticing destination for beer drinkers.
The drive from my home in Southampton to the New Forest takes just over 10 minutes, but the shift in scenery—from the slender ship-to-shore cranes of the container terminal to a mosaic of woodland and open heaths—is dramatic. We run past Lyndhurst’s Ferrari dealer and head south towards Brockenhurst, the Forest’s largest village by population.
Brockenhurst is the area’s fine dining epicenter, and it is also home to a population of domesticated pigs and piglets. Every autumn, they are released into the woods in a practice called pannage, which dates to the era of William the Conqueror. The pigs consume green acorns that would be toxic to cows and ponies, as well as chestnuts and beechmast. This gives their meat a unique depth of flavor, making them highly prized by local restaurants. They’re sometimes shadowed by deer: During my years spent managing the wine program at local boutique hotel The Pig, they would regularly delay my return home after my evening shifts. On misty winter nights, a doe would stand in the middle of the road, impassively, only darting away at the last moment.
Its bucolic, almost Constable-like romantic beauty is probably why Brockenhurst has been popular with tourists ever since a train station was first built here early in the Victorian era. In a country whose modern railway services are lamentably patchy, Brockenhurst’s station is unusually well-served. The ride from London takes about 100 minutes, and it’s a direct one.
With such a vibrant tourism industry, it’s unsurprising that all three of the New Forest’s newly launched independent breweries decided to set up business along the 5-mile stretch of road that connects Brockenhurst to the fishing village of Lymington, pride of the Forest’s seafront.
At Baynhams Brewery, about a mile down the road from Brockenhurst Station, tourists have made up a significant chunk of business since the first beer was brewed on site in 2020. “We’ve got a Kristallweizen,” says Tom Baynham as he pours me a taste. “It’s lighter than your standard Wheat Beer, plus has more hop character. We try not to make it too chewy.”
“A Kristallweizen isn’t quite what I was expecting to see in the New Forest,” I say.
“Of course,” Baynham replies. “It’s a good one for tourists. But we actually get a real mix of consumers. During the week we mostly get older people while the tourist season brings more of a younger crowd. Locals are a good mix, and at the weekends it’s just a diverse demographic.”
Alongside brother Lawrence and cousin Harry, Tom Baynham launched Baynhams Brewery in 2017 within a converted pig barn. Three years later, the brewery unveiled the debut batch of its Pig Beer brand. Between the barn and the field, a large tent serves as a beer garden, though a second barn is waiting to be renovated into the brewery’s future taproom.
In addition to thirsty walk-ins, Baynhams’ business involves partnering with surrounding on-trade venues and retail businesses. “Here in Brockenhurst we work with a couple of local farm shops and with some of the hotels,” says Baynham. “We recently got it on draft at the Crown Hotel in Lyndhurst. People drink our beer there, then come back here to buy some to take home.”
I wonder if the brand’s name choice—Pig Beer—has caused friction with the neighboring Pig Hotel. “Not at all. We have a good relationship with them,” he tells me. “We spoke to the Pig Hotel when we launched to ensure there were no frictions because of the name, but they had no problem with it. Actually, they now serve our Session in their bar.”
Session is Baynhams’ flagship. It’s a clean, crisp, citrus-led Pale Ale, hopped with Citra and Baynhams’ own Prima Donna, a neglected English aroma hop that the team planted in a small field adjacent to the brewery.
“Brewing is incredibly wasteful in terms of water usage, and hops need a lot of water to grow,” explains Baynham. To minimize those demands, he collects the wastewater from the brewing process and feeds it into a 10,000-liter tank connected to a drip-irrigation system. “We use that to grow our hops,” says Baynham. “We didn’t come to the site with that in mind, but when we looked at it we thought that could be a great way to reduce our impact on the environment. This way not only do we reuse our water, we also reduce our burden on the supply chain because we need to buy fewer hops.”
The field was first planted with Prima Donna three years ago, but it has recently been replanted with the aim of developing unique genetic material. “We changed to a new variety using our own seeds; it’s a mix of different genetics so we will have our own variety. It won’t suffice to cover all of our needs but we’ll use them as our aromatic hop additions.”
The woodland thickens as we drive further south to reach the Monkey Brewhouse. The pub is a historical landmark: Located next to an old tollhouse, it was first opened to cater to the many travelers who would ride through its gate, and went through multiple phases of ownership since then. Two years ago, young brewer Will Bradshaw decided to acquire this piece of local history. He bought the property, reopened the pub, then renamed it the Monkey Brewhouse once he launched his brewing operations in 2021.
“The building was there to take the tolls for people getting into Lymington,” says Bradshaw, pointing at the derelict-looking tollhouse just outside the window. “That’s actually how the pub arrived, because there was so much custom coming in, in the 1850s.”
“I would love to see more free houses in the New Forest. That’s actually the reason why we ended up where we are. The huge influx of tourism here attracted the big chains, but their pubs just survive on summer sales. That’s enough for their bosses and they don’t look after their locals. Free houses are the real soul of the Forest.”
Although the pub began life as The Crown, it was locally known as the Monkey House. “A woman used to live here and people knew she would keep monkeys,” Bradshaw says. “When the latest owner bought the property, he officially changed the name to Monkey House, around 2014 I think, so when I put a brewery in it I decided to call it Monkey Brewhouse.”
Bradshaw makes a wide range of traditional cask ales—including Tollhouse, a classic malt-led Bitter with a fresh citrus note, a touch of dark roastiness, and a honeyed backbone—and more modern styles in keg. But the range of beer options isn’t the pub’s only asset: It is also one of just a few free houses—or independently run pubs—in the region.
“I would love to see more free houses in the New Forest,” Bradshaw says. “That’s actually the reason why we ended up where we are. The huge influx of tourism here attracted the big chains, but their pubs just survive on summer sales. That’s enough for their bosses and they don’t look after their locals. Free houses are the real soul of the Forest.”
Bradshaw is making the most of people’s interest in supporting local businesses, which flourished throughout the pandemic. He argues that by breathing new life into such a historical site, he is doing a service to the community. “It takes a while to change, and change drinking habits. People really cherish independence, so we’re very much supported by the local community,” he says.
It only takes three minutes to reach our next destination: The latest addition to the Forest’s beer scene, the Brew Forest nano-brewery only opened a few months ago in a light industrial unit. But it has already changed the life of its own hyper-local community.
A small group of cyclists and horseback riders passes by as I park the car. “You looking for Dave?” one asks. “We’ve just been to the Monkey Brewhouse, and Will mentioned a new brewery had popped up nearby,” I say. “It’s great stuff,” she replies enthusiastically before riding off.
The site aptly fits the nano-brewery philosophy. Brew Forest’s neighbors include everyone from a stainless steel sculptor and an upholsterer to a wall-art lights studio and a dressmaker. “There’s a lot of craft people up here; it’s been like this ever since it was born as a light industrial unit,” says Dave Kennett, who runs the brewery alongside sister Helen Bowyer. “A lot of talented people who are really good at what they do and just needed a place that doesn’t cost them a fortune in the middle of town.”
“My sister and I have always been in the hospitality trade. I was at sea on cruise ships for a long time. Then I came off and needed a job. I thought, ‘We both know hospitality and beer,’ so I decided to open a brewery with a taproom.”
The siblings originally intended to sell cans online, but that plan soon expanded. “My sister and I have always been in the hospitality trade,” says Kennett. “I was at sea on cruise ships for a long time. Then I came off and needed a job. I thought, ‘We both know hospitality and beer,’ so I decided to open a brewery with a taproom.”
Brew Forest now sells its entire output—mainly Pale Ales and IPAs in keg and cans—through the taproom. Am I IPA hints at the aromatic profile of higher-ABV American-style IPAs, but with the moderate strength of a British Pale Ale. It’s got a bitter backbone, but there’s enough maltiness there to keep the beer balanced and sessionable. Meanwhile, Huhapa is Brew Forest’s inevitable Hazy Pale. Mellow on the palate, it’s freshened up by its lime, lemon, and tropical fruit character. While it’s still early days for Kennett’s beers, his nano-brewing kit gives him the opportunity to continue to tweak existing recipes, and confidently experiment with new ones.
When I ask about future growth plans, however, Kennett admits that they intend to keep things small for the time being, despite the early promise.
“We opened in March so we are still really new, plus we’ve still got full-time day jobs,” he says. “There isn’t a reason why Brew Forest shouldn’t become our main business, but it depends on how much we want to grow and how quickly. We’re not rushing it. At the moment we are very sustainable; we don’t want to grow at a rate that we can’t manage.”
It’s past lunchtime, and my stomach is beginning to rumble. We leave Lymington and travel east towards Beaulieu (pronounced bew-lee), arguably the Forest’s most well-heeled village, where I’ve got a table booked at the Montagu Arms Hotel’s pub, Monty’s Inn. The woodland opens up, yielding space to large swathes of heathland on both sides of the road. Despite what “New Forest” might suggest, heathland—rather than woodland—is the national park’s quintessential landscape, chromatically rich with bright yellow gorse flowers and purple heather bushes, whose blossoms are used in infusions and, historically, Heather Ales. Before entering Beaulieu, we stop along the road to watch cows and horses graze.
Beaulieu is tiny, but still big enough for the requisite teahouses, an abbey, a classic cars dealer, and a motor museum. The village consists of two converging roads, frequented as much by vintage car enthusiasts as by the Forest’s cows and ponies, which like to people-watch in the de facto village square.
Monty’s Inn sits right at the convergence of those two roads. To match the identity and aesthetic of the parent Montagu Arms Hotel, food at the Monty’s Inn is more sophisticated than what’s offered in the average British pub, albeit still served within an informal, cozy setting and often consumed with Montagu’s own beer, rather than paired with wine.
When we walk through the doors, I notice that we are among the youngest visitors in the pub. Beaulieu tends to attract a more mature clientele when compared to our previous stops. “They are generally 50-plus food and drink enthusiasts,” as the hotel’s general manager Andrew Berridge puts it, visitors who enjoy simple hikes in the surroundings. “The New Forest is stunning, and quite magical, so we attract a healthy transient trade. We do also have many locals that will visit Monty’s Inn for a hearty lunch or a pint after a walk along the Beaulieu River.”
The beers, brewed at Piddle Brewery in nearby Devon, are designed to cater to that traditional pub crowd. Alongside an IPA—“the most popular, by far,” says Berridge—the Montague offers a classic Bitter and a Lager.
I want to taste the Bitter in its own culinary context, so I pair it with the catch of the day, a fresh filet of gilt-head bream served with lentils and freshened up by a sprinkle of herbs and edible flowers. Besides a balanced intensity of flavors, the pairing really comes together once the lentils and the Bitter’s earthiness meet.
A small beer sample washes down my last bite of the catch of the day before we make our way through the hotel’s croquet field and get back to the car. We soon reach Vibrant Forest Brewery, the area’s oldest still-independent brewery, founded in 2011. Originally located just down the road in Lymington, Vibrant Forest moved to Hardley in 2019, in an industrial estate at the outskirts of the Forest that could better meet the brewery’s expansion plans.
The new site is split between the production area—including a small barrel room, whose occupants, including triple sec and maple syrup barrels, hint at interesting projects in the pipeline—and the spacious visitor area. While Vibrant Forest’s scope has grown way beyond the local (its annual output of 2,100 barrels, which will soon hit 2,500 BBLs, is now distributed nationwide and internationally), the brewery still shows undeniable commitment to its community. “When we were in Lymington, the taproom was only open for reduced hours for people to try out some of the beers, while this new one has really taken on its own life,” explains taproom manager Ryan Dack.
“We do get a lot of beer fans from all over but we’re not in a hotspot, so we’re trying to get the local community down here. Coming to see us in an industrial estate in the middle of nowhere can be daunting and there’s only one bus here. We have to play to our strengths, so I do a lot of events for the general public to convert them.”
Vibrant Forest offers around 15 to 20 different beers at any given time, with only one, Pupa Pale Ale, brewed year-round. The rest represent an eclectic mix, including everything from a Belgian-style Witbier with orange and lemon zest and a Mango Sour to a Pale Lager and a classic Bitter whose base recipe was developed by a local van driver.
The lineup betrays the very essence of the New Forest’s recently developed beer scene. Nationwide and global trends do find their way into the glass, though they’re translated through the Forest’s unique social context. Here, urban and international visitors harmonize with locals and with the region’s wild scenery, giving birth to a peculiar rural environment that is both slow-paced and cosmopolitan.
I taste my way through the samples while, behind me, a group of people is busy setting up for what looks like a birthday party, judging by the number of balloons being inflated. “We’re celebrating our business’s 20th anniversary,” one of them tells me when they notice my inquiring eye. “It’s lovely for our community to have a place like this where we can hold our celebrations.”
While the taproom is open for private hires, Vibrant Forest is big on public events, too. Its latest beer festival attracted some 400 people. “500 came to our 10th anniversary last year,” says Dack. “We’ve got events all the time, street food every week, and a local market once a month on Sundays, where we invite small local businesses to show their stuff.” Stallholders are welcome to take part for free; they give people more of a reason to make the journey to discover the beers.
“We do get a lot of beer fans from all over but we’re not in a hotspot, so we’re trying to get the local community down here,” Dack admits. “Coming to see us in an industrial estate in the middle of nowhere can be daunting and there’s only one bus here. We have to play to our strengths, so I do a lot of events for the general public to convert them.”
As I sip on my Supa Pupa sample, a deliciously rich Double IPA version of Vibrant Forest’s flagship, the party preparations start getting loudly frantic. It’s time to head off into the unspoiled tranquility of the New Forest’s twilight. I drive back home, watched by herds of ponies on the heathland as dusk encroaches.
Surely they must know: When we visitors leave, we’re already speculating on the best opportunity to return.
Words by Jacopo MazzeoPhotos by Sean McEmerson
