Pubs, brewhouses and beer gardens

A café whose beer list runs to dozens of bottles, each poured into its own branded glass, with the glassware treated as part of the serve rather than as branding.

The Czech pub: plain rooms, one or two beers, table service, and a tally on a slip of paper that quietly assumes you want another.

A large roofed drinking room built by a brewery at industrial scale, with a band, a kitchen and enough tables that the room itself is the attraction.

A Bavarian institution that began as the ground above a brewery’s cooling cellars, where the trees planted to keep the ice cold ended up shading the drinkers.

A Franconian drinking place on the hillside above a brewery’s rock-cut lagering cellar — confusingly, you sit outside, on top of the cellar rather than in it.

A German brewery-tavern: a public room whose beer comes from the brewery that owns it, and in the Rhineland often from a copper you can see from your table.

A house in the Upper Palatinate that opens as a pub for a few weeks at a time, serving beer its owner brewed at the village’s communal brewhouse.

A pub that is not tied to any brewery and can therefore buy beer from whoever it likes — a claim that appears on signage because for most of British history it was unusual.

A licensed house, not a bar: a room licensed to sell drink to the public, with a cellar underneath it and a licensee whose trade depends on what is in it.

A pub owned by a brewery and obliged to sell that brewery’s beer — the arrangement that shaped British beer economics for a century and was largely broken up in 1989.

A pub that brews the beer it sells, in the building it sells it in — the one venue word that does make a claim about where the kettle is.

A bar attached to a brewery, selling that brewery’s beer at the point it was made — the modern craft sector’s answer to not owning any pubs.