Born again beer drinker

Mamma mia! After some health advice, Phil Dixon is surprised to find himself enjoying an alcohol-free beer...

Apart from the odd Swedish tribute band, I'm not too keen on "born agains". Like "born again" Christians telling me that if I don't change my ways I'll never get to heaven -

but does anyone really want to spend the afterlife with a host of suicide bombers and Cliff Richard?

Then there are the "born again" non-smokers who, with the fervour of a Knights Templar, crusade against anything associated with cigarettes. Latterly, we also have the "born again" healthy lifestylers encouraging you to rethink your fitness levels and alcohol consumption.

After some encouragement I recently invested in a "well man" check-up. I last had a discussion on my lifestyle around 12 years ago when I had to be whisked into intensive care with the symptoms of a heart attack.

There is no wonder you feel poorly in intensive care; you are unable to sleep as you have more wires attached to you than an electricity pylon. Whilst recovering on the ward I had a third-degree interview:

"Occupation?"

"Director of the Licensed Victuallers Association."

"Do you drink alcohol?" (I wonder if they ask Formula One stars if they have a driving licence.)

"Er, yes."

"How much do you drink?"

"About 15 pints (of Bathams bitter) a week,"

I replied, innocently forgetting the key word "end".

You would have thought I had confessed to having a clandestine affair with Mother Teresa, such was the shock on the doctor's face.

"Why so much?"

"Well, if you get a 50 playing cricket or have a good win, perhaps an exciting draw or need solace in defeat..."

Dr Asif, it turned out, also played the game but remarked that he didn't feel the need to drink afterwards.

"Do you wish to see your pension?"

"I hope so," I admitted.

"Then make me a promise now to cut your consumption by half."

I held out my right hand together with the drip attachments: "OK doctor, you have a deal - 14½ pints a week it is from now on."

Lay all your gloves on me

Despite paying for the check-up this time around, I still had the experience of discussing my lifestyle with a teetotal doctor - a nice chap who, unusually, told me his first name whilst donning the rubber gloves.

Inevitably the consumption question arose, and I admitted to 50 units per week. My protestations that to open a good bottle of Rioja and only have two glasses and not finish it was a deep insult to the people of the Ebro valley. This perfectly legitimate comment appeared to fall on deaf ears; I then received that "Do you know what you may be doing to your self?" conversation.

So I did the decent thing. I ordered a treadmill and a cookbook on how to make vegetarian meals more interesting.

Then a few weeks ago, I was having a heavy workout trying to unpack The Sunday Times when I discovered that the 21 units per week was without scientific foundation and that if you indulge in up to 63 you will still have the same life expectancy as a teetotaller.

Now that is worth drinking to.

Incidentally, when it comes to life expectancy, which country sets the standard? True, one country has seen a rise in hard liquor consumption and has one of the highest smoking levels (40% of adult population) on the Continent, but apparently eating oily fish and attempting to have sex with any visiting tourists over 18 is the key... Yes, Greece is the word.

Knowing me knowing brews

I have spent seven years writing for this respectable publication and it can be a very lonely affair. You do get the odd compliment, such as "I thought your last column was really intelligent."

"Why, thank you," I'll respond.

"But who wrote it?" is the standard riposte.

I recently commented on the subject of lagers, especially low and non-alcoholic varieties.

A month later a large package was delivered with the outer cover proudly proclaiming "Trappist beers".

Ah, someone liked my line "when it comes to lagers I am a closet Belgian.

I like them like my second wife: strong, pure and blonde". (Well, two out of three.)

I began to impersonate a four-year-old on Christmas morning with the scent of reindeer in my nostrils, tearing open the package to discover... 0% alcohol Bavaria beer.

Now, a bit like Caffreys and Ireland, Bavaria beers do not come from Bavaria. It was following a trip to the then German kingdom that Dutchman Laurentius Moorees was inspired to commence brewing in Lieshout (southern Holland, near Eindhoven) around 1719.

The Moorees married into the Swinkels family who still run the brewery to this day. They brew five million hectolitres a year and have around 15% of the Dutch market. I confess I have enjoyed a few, especially in my youth visiting Amsterdam, but no, I have never drunk the 0% product.

Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!

(a beer I can drive with)

In my column I had asked the question: "Can anyone produce a 0% abv beer and can it be enjoyable?" True, the Holsten and Bitburger ones are an improvement on Barbican but not for me.

With the words of the doctor ringing in my ears, I tried the Bavaria, which has a strong malt taste, and I actually enjoyed it.

I then tried it out on BII (British Institute of Innkeeping) luminaries such as the "Business Doctor" Trevor Brown and CEO John Mac. They liked it too. Award-winning licensees Chris Lewis and Richard Macey pronounced it a fine beer.

I discussed the concept of a 0% lager with Bavaria's marketing reps and the product is proving popular. It's a hit with Muslim communities and countries such as South Africa with strict drink-driving laws.

I was staggered to discover that 0% beers are the fastest growing sector in the Czech industry, according to Jan Vesely of the Czech Brewing Association, and they are predicting a 50% annual growth over the next three years.

And even more impressively, the Bavaria guys even have an office in another place renowned for good beer - Burton-upon-Trent.

Merry Christmas.

phildixoncmbii@aol.com