I don’t need much persuasion to have a beer. It’s been my drink of choice since my late teens. Nine times out of 10 when I go to the pub, it’s what I’ll order. But even in these exciting times for beer nobody could or should pretend it’s going to sell itself.
British beer is lucky to have people on its side, from consumer champions CAMRA (the Campaign for Real Ale), to small brewers’ trade organisation SIBA (Society of Independent Brewers) and writers who form the vanguard of speaking up for beer. Also organised campaigns – some more effective than others.
What it doesn’t seem to have is an organisation that makes quite as much noise as the USA’s Brewers Association. Perhaps it’s down to the British character. Too many Brits mistake confidence and justified self-promotion as no better than being an arrogant show-off but if you’re doing something well, and that thing is your business, then failing to publicise or market what you do is pretty much the same as flushing money down the toilet.
Modesty
Thankfully, the Brewers Association doesn’t suffer from false modesty. Which is why when it rolls into (London) town each August and holds its annual beer matched lunch or dinner I know it will be something special and that I’ll be talking about it for months – maybe even years to come.
Last year it hosted us – journos, beer writers and bloggers – at a select Mayfair restaurant where the highlight was a rib-eye steak from a 14-year-old Galician Blond bullock paired with an American-style brown ale from No-Li Brewhouse in Washington State. Of course, the steak – which normally has an £80 price tag – was utterly stunning but when it met the beer it was like two old friends coming together. Each brought something to the other and I can still remember the taste. I can close my eyes and I’m back at the table eating and drinking something I almost didn’t want to end.
A little piece of heaven
This year, in stark contrast, the Brewers Association decided to go vegetarian. In so doing it provided me with a celeriac epiphany. In case you’re not familiar, celeriac is that ugly, vaguely spherical root vegetable that resembles a disfigured old man with really pock-marked skin. It tastes a bit like celery because, well, it is. Sounds horrible doesn’t it? But it turns out if you smoke it, slice it thickly like a steak and bake it, allowing it to caramelise a little, then serve it with Harpoon Brewery’s Sticke Alt (a German-style beer with a lot of flavours in common with traditional British bitter), it becomes a little piece of heaven. I’m not exaggerating. The celeriac is firm, juicy and delicious. It’s topped with Swiss Chard and glazed with a jus made of pickled walnut purée and a reduction of the beer. There are so many flavours working together in the food that I thought it couldn’t get any better. Then I took a sip of beer. It went from being a nice enough balance of hops and fruitcake to a wave of juicy berries breaking over my tongue, preparing me for my next bite of celeriac.
Here I am waxing lyrical about a weird-looking vegetable, but I wouldn’t be doing so if it wasn’t for beer. That sums up the Brewers Association’s attitude to promoting its members and the beer they brew. Every encounter I have with them makes me excited about beer. Not just the amazing dinners either. The talks, tastings and beer competitions too. I go away buzzing with ideas, pretty much always having learned something and enthusiastic about the industry I’m lucky enough to be part of.
Be more excited about beer
I’m not saying I haven’t had some remarkable experiences thanks to the British beer industry, nor that everyone in it is a shrinking violet. I can recall a good amount of dinners and events here that have left me walking on air. But we need to get more excited about beer.
Whether you make it or sell it, you need to throw off the British stiff upper lip. Forget modesty and stop being so staid. We need more enthusiasm about beer and all it has to offer. More: “Have you tried this beer? It’s delicious and tastes great with our special of the day.”
We need to be like the Brewers Association; spread the word that beer is brilliant and diverse, and take the industry forwards.