Camra and Cask Marque both agree cask beer should be cool and refreshing. Who'd argue?
Ireturned home last Thursday evening, full of the joys of spring and a few glasses of Fuller's Chiswick, to find my house full of both teenagers and cans of Carling and Foster's. Number One Son had invited friends round to watch the Euro footie and they had brought the beers with them.
When, in a jovial, full-of-Fuller's kind of way, I upbraided them for their choice of beer, they pointed out some facts of teenage life to me. They are either university students or about to become so. They are, therefore, strapped for cash. The off-trade beer was cheap. They also laughingly dismissed what they call "warm beer".
This brief encounter concentrated the mind. Last week was a busy one. The Thursday event was the annual meeting of the British Guild of Beer Writers. The guild, which will celebrate 21 years in 2009, is fighting fit, its funds strong and membership standing at 140.
It organises excellent seminars and brewery trips, and has been vocal in its support for saving the brewery museum in Burton-on-Trent. As a founder member, I have always been keen to stress that the guild is not Camra by another name.
But, as a result of the tumultuous changes in the brewing industry, and the emergence of a vibrant craft brewing sector, it's understandable that the guild builds many of its events around regional and micro producers, who concentrate in the main on cask beer. It's their point of difference in a market swamped by mass advertised global brands.
Two evenings earlier I had been at a dinner in Brewers' Hall in London to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Cask Marque. In common with both Camra and the beer writers' guild, Cask Marque's origins were humble. It came into existence, funded initially by Adnams and a few other regional producers, at a time when the future of cask beer was in doubt.
Sales were plummeting and it seemed that nothing could stop the steam train loaded with premium lager and the new smooth-flow versions of ale. A decade later, the beer world has turned on its head. Now premium lager and smooth-flow ale are in decline. Cask beer in general is close to returning to growth and many craft brewers are reporting record sales.
Cask Marque has played a crucial role in this success. It bravely took the proverbial bull by the horns and insisted not only that hosts must serve cask beer in tip-top condition, pint after pint, day after day, but must ensure it is served at a cool, appealing and refreshing temperature.
It's often said that Cask Marque (CM) and Camra have not always seen eye to eye over beer temperature. It's not the case: CM has several times sponsored the Good Beer Guide and will do so for the 2009 edition. When CM was formed, the then chairman of Camra, John Cryne, held a meeting with Paul Nunny of CM and pledged the campaign's full support.
There were a few spats along the way. Some Camra members felt CM's recommended beer temperatures were too cool for average bitters and far too cold for such strong ales as barley wines, old ales and winter beers. But these problems were soon sorted out and harmony reigns today.
The development and success of golden ales — the craft brewing sector's response to lager — has proved the point that if we are to win over future generations to cask beer then quality, appearance and temperature are vital. Thirty years ago, many of us would put up with warm and cloudy pints because we were so relieved to find cask ale in what Camra dubbed a "beer desert" — and that included London in the early 1970s.
Today, cask beer can be found in most towns, cities and villages. It's rare to be handed a bad pint — and that is due to the careful, patient work of Cask Marque and its team of assessors, many of them retired brewers, which tours pubs and monitor cellar practice.
CM's success was in evidence at the Guild of Beer Writers' meeting last Thursday. It was held in a newish Fuller's pub, the Melton Mowbray, in London's Holborn. The pub was packed, with drinkers spilling out on to the pavement. Pints of Chiswick's finest were disappearing at a fast rate of knots. It warmed the cockles of Paul Nunny's heart, for Paul is also treasurer of the guild and was present in the pub.
What was especially impressive was that most of the customers were young, in their 20s and early 30s, happily quaffing beer they would have derided a few years earlier.
Meanwhile, back home at Protz Towers, the tinnies of amber nectar were still popping. I offered to go round to my local and bring back a jug of Tim Taylor's Landlord, but I got the Emperor Nero thumbs down. There's still work to do.