Andrew Jefford celebrates the magical mix of hops, sugar, water and malt that produces the perfect pint.
Beer? I thought this was a wine column.
It's a column devoted to liquids that nourish both body and spirit - and they certainly include beer. Personally speaking, I drink it as often as wine and with equal relish. England, moreover, is the home of some of the world's greatest beers and should be as closely and readily identified with beer production as Scotland is
with whisky.
Why isn't it, then?
The main reason is that Scotch whisky is an alcoholically sturdy product which can be bottled, shipped, stored and traded internationally with no loss of character, flavour or style. England's great ales, by contrast, are as delicate as orchids and virtually unexportable. I'm talking about cask ales, of course:
living beer, traditionally made, properly cellared, and drawn straight from the barrel. You need a great brewer to make them in the first place, and then a great publican to store and serve them properly, within the requisite timescale. Their richness and complexity of flavour is then awesome.
There don't seem to be many casks lolling about in my local Waitrose.
Nor in mine; cask beer, alas, has to be served in a pub. Independent brewers of vision and acumen, however, have come up with bottled versions of their ales, and these are very often ringingly good in their own right. The supermarkets have given these shelf space and they have proved to be very popular. It's certainly not the same as a great pint in a pub - but it is considerably better than just another
can of tasteless American lager.
Alright, I'm listening. But, I don't like very bitter flavours. Doesn't that rule beer out?
Try a lemony wheat beer; try a softly spiced beer; try a malty brown ale; try a parsnip-sweet strong ale: none are overtly bitter. Alternatively, serve your beer lightly chilled, with food: those bitter flavours will then take on a useful role in getting the gastric juices flowing and helping the steak pie down smoothly. After all, most people say they find red wine bitter (and sour) when they first try it, but after a while it begins to taste quite good.
What if I only want to sip, not gulp?
Nothing is stopping you sipping a beer. Beer's least attractive drinkers may stow away gallons of the stuff, but it's not obligatory. A wine-glassful is just as much fun as a pint.
Won't I grow a huge stomach?
No. I've had the same waist measurement for the last ten years, honest - yet I never pass up the offer of a good beer. The Czechs call it 'liquid bread'. And, like bread, it's what you eat with it that will pile on the calories.
Aren't beers full of chemicals?
Not the beers I'm recommending today. They're all made from the finest ingredients you can buy: leaf hops, best malt, sometimes a little brewing sugar - and, most importantly, their own, often complex, yeast strains.
What is malt, anyway?
It's barley that's been allowed to germinate and then had that natural growing process arrested by roasting. The germination turns the grain's starch (tasteless and unfermentable) into sugar (tasty and fermentable).
And hops?
A gangly member of the cannabis family. Fields of hops are called gardens in Kent or yards in Hereford and Worcester. The pretty little cones dangle by the armful from the 20-foot high plant in high summer, and end up slowly turning brown in pubs during the winter. They're made up of overlapping bracts and bracteoles (specialised leaves), at the base of which are glands containing a sticky yellow substance made of soft and hard resins. This is what brewers are after; this is where the aroma, flavour and bitterness is hidden.
Alright, I'm ready to try. Where do I start?
Let's begin with a great lager before we move on to the serious business of classic British ale.
Get tasting
Pilsner Urquell
(4.4 per cent, £1.79 for 660ml)
The world's definitive lagers come from Germany and the Czech Republic - the word lager is German for 'storehouse'. This one, indeed, comes from the very town (Plzen in the Czech Republic) that gave its name to the word 'pils'. Unlike most commercial lagers, which are made using a wide variety of short cuts and adjuncts, this one is made the proper way - with just hops, malt, yeast and water - and fermented and aged with requisite slowness. The result is a wholesome scent of winnowed grain and faint flowery hop, with none of the horrible cabbage or sweetcorn smells that you can find
in bad lager. The flavour is refreshing, smooth, clean and discreetly yet persistently bitter, leaving the mouth in a bright and breezy state - and all geared up for the next invigorating sip.
Hopback Summer Lightning
(5 per cent, £1.59 for 500ml)
This is a stronger beer, yet I've put it just after the lager since it makes an ideal stepping stone from the lager to the bitter style. Oh, and it's also a work of genius. The genius in question belongs to a man called John Gilbert. He it was who came up with the recipe for this very light, very blonde and deceptively strong ale with a wonderful bloomy scent of East Kent Golding hops to it (indeed Gilbert even credits Tony Redsell, the farmer who grows the hops for him). It's English
high summer in a glass.
Black Sheep Ale
(4.4 per cent, £1.55 for 500ml)
Here's a classic. Once again, it's a story of small-scale endeavour winning out over big business: this beer is the creation of Paul Theakston, the 'black sheep' scion of the well-known Masham brewing family. Yorkshire is, in this southerner's opinion, England's greatest beer county and this is a concentrated, tight-sewn Yorkshire ale in the purest tradition, with a flavour as clean, clear and face-slapping as the wind off the moors.
Bass
(4.4 per cent, £1.69 for 568ml)
Once upon a time, Burton-upon-Trent was one of the greatest brewing towns in the world. Now it's merely the stop on the motorway where some giant lager factories are located. There are, though, two great beers which still leave this brewing reference point of the Midlands. This is one; and Marston's Pedigree (see below) is the other. Bass is a pale, rounded ale with a soft, gentle and enfolding bitterness. Just as prominent as the bitterness, though, is the beer's refreshing mineral quality - giving it great moreishness.
Marston's Pedigree
(4.5 per cent, £1.65 for 500ml)
There were two reasons for the fame of Burton-upon-Trent as a brewing town. One was its water - coming not from the grubby and barge-loaded Trent, but filtered up through the gypsum beds which lie beneath the town. The mineral salts which defined this water were perfect for brewing superbly bright, pale ale. The other reason was the brewing system employed there: fermentation in an intricate system of linked wooden casks. This beer is the last one in the world to be brewed (alas, in part only) by this method. Compared with the Bass, it is, if anything, a little sweeter and softer still, with a winningly nutty finish and that same mineral cleanness.
Young's Double Chocolate Stout
(5 per cent, £1.75 for 500ml)
Porter and stout were originally London brewing styles - until the Irish copied the system with such success. This beer, from Wandsworth brewer Young's, builds on that tradition with a modern twist. When malts are roasted to a very dark finish, they are known as chocolate malts - partly because of the colour and partly because their darkly bitter flavour resembles plain chocolate. For this beer, Young's have taken chocolate malt and mixed it with real chocolate before fermenting it,
hence the 'Double' Chocolate of the name. If you find Guinness too bitter, try the deep, smooth and sweet-edged flavours of this gentle, ambling giant of a beer.
Please note prices are for indication only.