Charm offensive

Having sent the bosoms of the nation's barmaids into palpitations following publication of some injudicious remarks about uncovered flesh in his last Morning Advertiser column, Adam Edwards is now in full retreat

Flak has been flying around the Morning Advertiser. There have been complaints - enough to force me to buy the first round of drinks for the editor - that I was wrong in my disparaging view last month that the un- covered embonpoint of the elderly British barmaid is offensive.

The European directive to compel barmaids to cover up naked flesh was, I suggested, a good thing - drinkers should not be exposed to harm-ful cellulite. But many in the licensed trade felt differently.

'There's nothing wrong with my bosoms,' said Pam Hughes of Gloucestershire's Seven Tuns. 'I like to show a bit of flesh to the punters.' She did not give her age. Others wrote in a similar vein. One Merseyside landlord claimed that I had so upset his barmaid wife that he intended to give me a 'Kirby kiss' when I next visited Liverpool. (I am assuming that the Scouse smacker is not a sign of affection.)

I would like to put it on record that I have no objection to the British barmaid. In fact I have nothing but admiration for the siren of the saloon bar, elderly or otherwise. She is the spiritual mother of drinkers, serving her alcoholic milk to wayward offspring. She combines the wink of a wench with the wisdom of a mischievous aunt. She feeds the hungry, listens to the miserable and laughs loudly with the joke. She wears heels while her feet ache, dresses in glitter when she would prefer to be in her dressing gown and brushes-up when she feels down. She is one of the country's forgotten institutions and, like cricket, it is time for her revival.

And to this end the Morning Advertiser hopes to run a competition to find Britain's best barmaid. She need not be the most beautiful in Britain or feel she has to parade her naked charms in public. But she should be the focal point of the bar, a woman loved by the locals for her character and charm, with an uncanny ability to serve three people at the same time.

She must remember the names of regulars, mix cocktails, cheerfully chastise the tiddly and call time with a smile. And, most of all, she must make all those who enter her pub feel that it is their spiritual home.

If you would like to propose a barmaid of the year, e-mail me at the address at the bottom of the page. If there are enough entries a team of expert judges (my editor and I) will draw up a shortlist on which readers can vote. The winning barmaid and her sponsor will both receive handsome prizes. More details to follow.

A tot too far

The news that judges at last month's International Wine Challenge Awards found Tesco's own-brand Champagne the best non-vintage bubbly in the world comes as no surprise to me.

In the early '90s I organised a blind Champagne testing for a national newspaper with a large group of experts, including celebrities such as Leslie Ash and wine writers including the Morning Advertiser's Andrew Jefford.

Among the dozen sparkling wines on offer was English sparkling wine, vintage and non-vintage French Champagne and Sainsbury's Cava.

The Cava romped home... several erratic steps ahead of the others, with only Andrew singling out the English sparkling wine and putting the French vintages ahead of the others.

I haven't taken much interest in fancy Champagnes since then. I am a beer and whisky man anyway. But since that tasting I experimented with a switch from a famous brand of blended whisky to a supermarket own brand. And once that supermarket own-brand Scottish water-of-life was safely decanted I discovered that nobody - not even I suspect the great Jefford - could tell one bottle of blended grain-juice from another.

However, after several months of serious testing I did find out that if a second bottle of either the supermarket or the proprietary stuff is drunk immediately after the first bottle is finished, that second bottle is quite often 'corked'.

It's not what you say...

Restaurateur Marco Pierre White has bought his first pub, a 17th-century Hampshire Inn called the Yew Tree. After a makeover and a new menu the legendary chef said 'it is an eating house catering for all occasions' and described it as 'very much a pub, not a restaurant'.

At £12 for a plate of shepherd's pie, a tenner for an omelette and £7.50 for mushrooms on toast, plus a name change to Marco Pierre White's Yew Tree Inn, I think what the great cook meant to say was 'it is very much a restaurant, not a pub'.

l Send your entries for the barmaid of the year to adam@potlickers.co.uk