Chris Maclean: The death of regional variation

I few weeks ago my wife and I rented a cottage in the East Riding of Yorkshire. It was an unfamiliar area and we set out to explore its characteristics.

Some of it was delightful. There were some lovely places. Some of it was also hideously expensive. Parking in York city, for example, was shocklingly priced. But the reason we visited was because we wanted to go somewhere different. Somewhere to experience.

Yet the abiding memory, for me, was the bland same-ness of many of the pubs.

Time after time I would be confronted by the same desperate scene as I entered a pub. Fridges behind the counter stocked with the regular Magners, Becks, Bud and J2O, Nobbys Nuts. The same charity boxes. The same brand promotions. The fonts and pumps on the bar delivering the same national range of products. Menus offered the same repetition. It felt like a scene from Groundhog Day.

Even more alarmingly, the exceptional cask beers which have recently attained national recognition were now regularly featuring across the country. Timothy Taylor's Landlord. Sharp's Doom Bar. These are fantastic beers and worthy of praise. They are well worth seeking out as exemplary products. But they are outstanding products within their own context. It seems to me that, rolled out nationally, they lose their provenance.

What I saw looked like the signs of the death of regional variation.

Some years ago my brewery was involved in the push for, and getting, European status for Kentish ale. They argued that beer from Kent has a peculiar and distinctive characteristic. It is, first and foremost, hoppy. Aggressively so. Kentish beer has this distinction and my brewery's standard bitter is a good version of it. I am happy to sell their beer because it has this special characteristic.

I specialise in a regional speciality beer. A beer that needs particular handling. A beer that cannot be served through a swan-neck. I have been playing around with this beer for thirty years trying to understand it and ensure it's consistency. Yet, even tonight, I've had to wash my cellar ceiling to remove the beer sprayed from a lively firkin. But it makes me a specialist. Something I am proud of.

Serving a regional beer not only satisfies a local community who support and encourage this local distinction, it also creates a pride and passion for their brewery and the beer in that locality. It can therefore be somewhat frustrating when regional beers become nationwide brands and, perhaps more worryingly, when regional brewers start to develop and brew beer without distinction to develop and cultivate these national brands.

Several times recently I have run outside bars in Harvey's brewery territory in Sussex. It isn't easy. There is a passion there that cannot be ignored. Harveys is Harveys. Shepherd Neame is Shepherd Neame. You will not convince people it is all the same. It's a commendable passion. All traditional breweries also have a loyal band of die-hard followers.

Regional distinction is important. I'd like to feel when I visit an area I can experience the characteristics of that area; their language, dialect, foods, cultures and, importantly, their beer.

But it isn't just happening locally and nationally. Now throughout Europe brands have become international. There are no real borders anymore. Just one great amorphous mass.

Everything becomes a shade of grey. Like it seemed in Yorkshire.

Yorkshire grey. It's a horse isn't it?