Togetherness. One Possible Future.

My last blog post about keg's absence from the Great British Beer Festival triggered some interesting reactions - some here, but predominantly on Twitter and in 'real life' (where, mercifully, the concept of good debate still endures in spite of social media.)

One of the comments left on that post hinted, quite reasonably, that I follow up on my observations with some action. Maybe in the form of an idea. After all, it's all very well highlighting what's wrong, but quite something else to find solutions.

So I've given it some thought, and I'm wondering if the answer may be more simple than many of us thought.

Firstly though, let's not beat about the bush. The problem for CAMRA is a very tough one.

How can they possibly embrace keg without betraying the essence of their core principles?

How can they be seen to undo all those decades of hard graft?

How could anyone spend years attaining victory over their version of the devil – only invite that very same devil to join their ranks?

It sounds impossible. And yet...

I think all talk of 'giving up principles' or 'betrayal of ideals' is actually a red herring.

I don't think CAMRA needs to change at all.

Not one bit.

They can keep a firm grip on their principles and ideals – whilst giving their blessing to new ideas which just happen not to involve the same adherence to the honourable CAMRA code.

There is a way CAMRA can remain distant from keg – whilst simultaneously offering gentle encouragement to any versions of the old enemy which appear to have mended their evil ways.

Basically, if deemed to have sufficient beer-loving merit, certain kegged beers could be invited to The Great British Beer Festival...

...as guests.

Not fellow exhibitors.

Guests.

A stall or area - perhaps named something like 'Guest Zone' or 'Twilight Zone' or 'Friendly Visitors From Space' or 'The Third Way' or 'Our Quirky Cousins' or 'Keg's Last Chance Saloon' - could be given over to the concept of reborn keg... and CAMRA could simultaneously remain entirely independent of it. No values would be betrayed, no code re-written, there'd be no need for embarrassment, explanation or confusion.

Basically, CAMRA could make it clear that whilst CAMRA is firmly for Real Ale, the Great British Beer Festival is open to ALL GOOD BEER.

10 years ago, Real Ale was the only good beer.

Things have been developing rather rapidly since then, and a gesture like this would quickly abort the need for any further parting of the ways between what have become two needlessly isolated camps.

Let me say at this point – having a separate CAMRA-backed 'craft beer' festival (one of which does exist at present) is not the same as offering a place at the year's major beer-related event. And let us remember that's exactly how the GBBF identifies itself. As a 'beer' festival. Not a 'cask beer' festival.  Surely any event using 'Great British Beer' in its name should not have a separate craft beer festival happening down the road. Anyone arriving from Mars wanting to learn what makes British beer so great would find the two separate competing venues a bit puzzling. “Is craft beer not great beer, then?”, they might very well ask, in Martian.

It is my firm belief that the ultimate ideal for everyone (even for CAMRA) is to enjoy beer that is properly good. Regardless of how it got that way. CAMRA battled to do away with the one size fits all beer production mentality that was killing creativity during the 1970's. They need to keep that battle raging – whilst being careful to recognise a fellow combatant when one arrives, however strangely dressed they might first appear.

It seems to me that what CAMRA still do not fully realise is that they are actually responsible for the very existence of the craft beer movement.

The concise history of it reads something like this -

CAMRA flexed their muscles and forced beer to be tasty...

Our American friends went crazy over the results...

They were inspired and got super creative...

The whole world went crazy over those results.

In other words, CAMRA and Craft Beer are genetically linked. They are parent and child. The rebirth of keg is something CAMRA should be taking credit for, not fighting against.

The very involvement of keg in this new movement is actually more out of accident than design. Keg simply became involved because America, where all the fevered experimentation initially kicked off, doesn’t really do cask. Most of the USA is too hot to keep cask beer in good condition and besides that they've always preferred their brews chilled.

Keg, simply put, comes naturally to Americans. It is not, nor has it ever been their devil.

Ask a US craft beer enthusiast what their enemy is and they'd almost certainly say 'Big Beer', by which they'd mean bland corporate beer, or in other words – they have exactly the same perception of the enemy as CAMRA did when it was first formed.

Because boring beer is the true devil. It always has been.

Good beer has always been the messiah.

Cask, keg, bottle or can. Beautifully brewed beer is what we want, and what we will all continue to strive for, together or apart.

It just seems to me that 'together' makes a huge amount of sense, and 'apart' makes absolutely none at all.

CAMRA champions Real Ale, be it from bottle or cask. They always should. May that never change.

But the Great British Beer Festival should showcase all good beer, and CAMRA should open the door to some guests who share so many of their ideals, but also have a few different ideas too.

Good beer in kegs wasn't around ten years ago.

It is now.

Now we have two entirely different versions of fantastic British beer.

Let's all join forces and really show off.

Let's really show the world just how good this country is at creating beer.

British Cask and proper British keg, side by side, would surely make one hell of a spectacle.

A mouthwatering statement to the globe which we can all reunite behind.

Now that really would be a 'great' festival.

The greatest beer festival in all human history. And no other nation could say otherwise.

The most important thing is that CAMRA doesn't need to change in order for this to happen.

Not one bit.

The next time it throws its giant annual party, all CAMRA needs to do is add a guest list.

The results could be quite extraordinary.

Still Great, But Needs A Haircut.

By the 1970's the Edinburgh International Festival was the the daddy of it's kind. It could rightfully claim to be the greatest arts event in the world at that time.

So many thought it very mysterious when in 1974 - at the very height of this success - huge numbers of people grouped together to form an alternative arts festival in very same city.

Why was this? Why would you create a brand new arts festival when the biggest in the world is already on your doorstep?

More importantly - why did this new alternative festival quickly grow to become even bigger than the Goliath it was meant to challenge?

I'm talking, of course, about the Edinburgh Fringe - which has independently become the biggest single arts festival in the entire world.

The reasons behind its creation were actually quite simple. This evolution happened because those plucky upstarts clearly believed that the original festival - in spite of its enormous size - was not catering to all tastes, and was unfairly marginalising certain groups who felt they needed - and deserved - an equal voice.

Sound familiar, my beer loving friends?

Of course it does.

Look, let me first say this. Yesterday's trade session at The Great British Beer Festival 2014 was indeed 'great'. There was no sense of impending doom which many would have predicted. Lots of 'craft-centric' breweries were present with certain of their brews (served only from casks, naturally) and with forward-looking firms like Oakham and Salopian winning medals nobody could argue that the door is still entirely closed on progress.

But I'm going to argue it anyway.

Because I can't help it.

Because the noisier and more gigantic this giant festival grows over the years, the more I feel the sense that it needs to quiet down and get a haircut.

It needs a fringe.

By not allowing the craft beer movement to showcase itself - in the way it would choose to - the GBBF is effectively only presenting a version of what is great about beer. To my eyes, it's the version which is currently less representative of what's exciting about British beer. If anything, The Great British Beer Festival already IS the fringe in that respect, and it's the new mainstream which is being left out in the cold.

It's kind of ironic. The Campaign For Real Ale, who run this giant sideshow, were once the plucky rebels themselves.

But if it continues with it's Craft-wary approach, CAMRA will only succeed in emulating its own vision of 'the enemy' - a dominant group which forcibly influences and controls the way in which we all drink our beer.

In short - CAMRA is in danger of becoming the very same kind of beast which it was created to destroy.

In the bad old days (which CAMRA fought so hard to change) the industry standard was "bland keg or nothing". But having won that long fight against a lack of choice, CAMRA are now being every bit as restrictive about what should be acceptable to drinkers. Even after 'bland keg' has been lovingly reinvented by consciousness brewers with abundant talent. 'Bland keg' is now 'craft keg', and the latter is often utterly delicious.

Yet, still it remains "Cask or nothing" and even worse -

"Cask or it's not proper beer."

Most people reading this know that such claims are no longer accurate. 

That kind of terminology felt right about ten years ago. It stopped feeling right about five years ago.

Cask is no longer the only delivery method which 'proper' beer drinkers believe in. Any claim to the contrary is simple myth making. It's spin. It's smoke and mirrors or the Emperors new clothes. Unless CAMRA acknowledge the passing of time, unless they embrace the continuing evolution of beer, all we will have had is a straight swap of demon for demon.

There is a legacy at stake here. A great legacy, which stands at risk of being forever lost or undermined.

So - I'm calling out the heroes.

Those same heroes who saved us all from poor beer in the first place.

We need them to don their capes and Lycra tights now more than ever before. They need to keep doing what they always have been doing - showing us mortals what to do. Teaching us all which way we should go. We have grown accustomed to looking to them for direction. But right now, they're using an outdated map, and thousands of decent beer loving folk are being given no alternative but to find their own way.

It doesn't have to be like this.

I'm sure everyone would be happy to have CAMRA continue to lead the way, they've done so with aplomb for decades. But the reality is that unless that old map is updated, and soon, I fear fewer and fewer people will feel sufficiently confident that theirs remains the lead to follow.

So, CAMRA, you have two real options...

1: Stop behaving like your old enemy and allow these new ideas to sing. Take away the need for a rival 'fringe' which would grow independently mighty and threaten the 'Greatness' of your own festival. Get craft keg on the list for 2015 and win back a whole lot of friends and fans. Simple.

2: Carry on as you are. There are already 'craft beer festivals' gaining in popularity each year, one will inevitably evolve into the main alternative event on a national level. Let the disgruntled card carrying members continue to drift away - when they'd really prefer to stay. Heartbreaking and avoidable. 

That's how I see it - I know I'm one among many.

I hope common sense can prevail and that all lovers of fine beer can rejoin as one before very long.

Whilst CAMRA remain dominant, it's up to them to take the lead on this. I love to see them do that.

We have them to thank for where we are today. The dark past is long past, and CAMRA made it so.

It's up to them now to decide whether they want to remain as influential in the future.

  

Day 150, Beer 150 - Oakham's "Green Devil IPA"

Today's Beer

Name – Green Devil IPA

Brewer – Oakham Ales

Classification – Please don't make me write 'IPA'. (Dammit!)

Strength – 6.0% ABV

Verdict - At A Glance

On the eye – A hoax. A deception. A trick. Making you believe it's just an ordinary light golden beer. Do not believe the lie.

On the nose – Not just hops, but actual hop vines. Tropical fruits and jungle foliage. All the multifarious aromas of a well stocked greenhouse. Not to mention the crushed nettles, the wildflowers, the nuclear grade citrus and the abundant fresh tears from your own eyes brought about by unbridled joy. Getting the picture?

On the tongue – Summarise? This stuff? Do me a favour!

On the subject – Many will consider this beer to be Oakham's 'big' version of their much celebrated 'Citra' IPA. It may be a lot more complicated than that in terms of how differently these two brews are created, but it's otherwise not a bad way of looking at it. If your mere human imagination can stretch far enough, try to imagine a version of Citra that is not only 'bigger' but also markedly better. Impossible concept?... Apparently not.

On the market – Hardly. Specialist outlets and the brewery itself are your only real options. This one came courtesy of The Real Ale Store.

On the whole – 9.5/10

Full Review

Possibly the best contemporary, ultra-hopped beer currently on the market.

There was very little point opening this review in any other way.

Now, before any of you start slamming your pints down and protesting about how all 'contemporary ultra-hopped beers' are just one trick ponies with very little to offer beyond making peoples eyes widen in semi-acute shock – let me just say that I've slammed many a pint down in protest about that too. I 'get' that argument, and there was a time when I had more than my share of sympathy for it.

But my view has shifted considerably since then, prompted mostly by my drinking a fair old selection of these new beers, and as a result I'd say that anyone who could drink a full bottle of today's beer without coming away grinning uncontrollably – probably just hasn't wrestled with enough of these beasts yet. That's not meant in any kind of disparaging way, it's really just a recognition of the fact that many people need to acclimatise to this style of beer, one which is pretty darned extreme in a whole bunch of very deliberate ways. Ultra-hopped beers need no time whatsoever to make an impact, but they can require more time than many other brews to properly get to know.

Obviously, there will always be those drinkers who get their kicks by disliking stuff, and they'll never listen even if you get your frail old granny to ask them nicely. I reckon a fair portion of the people claiming to dislike this beer will be those who just enjoy the sensation of swimming against the popular tide.

But I fear there's also a whole bunch of people who sit much further in from the extremes who don't feel able to properly familiarise themselves with these kinds of beers due to the unfortunate fact that, over recent years, things have been getting increasingly tribal and territorial in the world of 'proper' beer. The community is even arguing these days about what to call the very stuff that they are drinking. Is it 'real ale', or is it 'craft beer', and can anyone even remember why it matters?

This 'them and us' dynamic might be a source of amusing (and, sadly, sometimes overly heated) debate on social media outlets, but it's my increasingly strong belief that it will be bad for beer in the longer term.

What I see happening is that beers like Green Devil have, in some quarters, found themselves the victims of an often intolerant campaign against the entire notion of change. It's not so much the contemporary beers themselves which invite hostility, it's the perception of difference which the beers represent. Such has been the hype surrounding the recent developments in beer experimentation, and so wide-ranging have the effects been on the type of beers now being brewed, that these new beers can be sometimes be seen as threats, whether to traditional ales themselves, or to the atmosphere which surrounds the appreciation of beer in general.

It can appear to some that the new world of faux-punk, self-reverential swagger and dubious designer-stubble has simply stormed in and usurped the old world of honest straight talk, fireside sing songs and dubious non-designer-stubble.

In reality, the two apparently opposing camps aren't actually all that different from each other, but they've both successfully convinced themselves they are – so opposing attitudes are upheld regardless. In amongst all of this pointless posturing, the saddest consequence is that both sides routinely 'pooh-pooh' and actively avoid each others preferred beer styles, when the truth of the matter is that without this perceived conflict of ideologies everyone would be sat together enjoying what is only ever just beautifully engineered beer in all manner of interesting and delicious varieties.

Anyway, in hope that it might make a difference, let me invite you to set aside any preconceptions for a few moments whilst I tell you exactly why I found Green Devil to be such a monumentally rewarding experience.

As with many of these stealth-weapon beers, the first thing you notice about it is that it looks utterly unremarkable. Once in the glass, you can't help but look back at the demonic face on the label and wonder what its connection could possibly be to this unassuming, almost placid looking light golden beverage.

The only real clues as to the hugely dynamic and potent complexity which lurks within come from the aromas. Putting an 's' on the end of the word 'aroma' has never made more sense, because there are precisely eleven billion separately identifiable themes present in the fragrance of this beer. And don't go doubting my accuracy because I counted them.

Most delicious and unique among the myriad whiffs is the smell of the vines from which the hops were plucked. That's a pretty darned incredible characteristic to find. The hops themselves also have a tremendous presence, as you might expect, but to get that additional sense of the very plants upon which the hops were grown sets a new benchmark in terms of aromatic freshness in beer. Not since maniacally sniffing the rims of 'just cracked' bottles from Liverpool Organic have I been so concious of the word 'fresh' when first discovering a new drink.

But such matters of appearance and fragrance pale into near insignificance when this stuff finally reaches your mouth.

Oh boy.

Instantaneously, the concepts of refreshment and invigoration begin scrambling for new and more emphatic ways of defining themselves, as a liquid rock-slide of zesty, sumptuous bitterness collides deliciously with every region of your tongue. It's not brutal, and I've been dismissive of the term 'hop bomb' only very recently – but the dynamism, intensity and all round clarity of the taste is wonderfully bewildering and cannot fail to raise the heart-rate of any human who is alive at the point of contact.

The usual citrus and 'high-note' fruit suspects are all present (passion-fruit, gooseberry, razor sharp pineapple among many more) but the dominant battle here is between grapefruit and blood orange, with each of these two performing ever more stylish moves on its rival only to be outclassed by an effective countermeasure every time. It's thrilling to just sit back and let them tear each other to delicious shreds.

I could try to focus on the malts, and the sense of overall balance between high notes and low, but there's obviously not a lot of that going on here – and this is what can upset many lovers of established classic ales.

But we should all just accept that these beers were never meant to do any of that. That's really the point of it all. It's a different kind of experience, for a different kind of mood, presented in a different kind of way.

Ultra-hopped beers are not here to replace our old favourites – they've simply arrived to widen our options. 

Standing right at the forefront of this fresh set of options is a hugely fearsome and devilish creature, whom every last one of us should be learning to love.