Drinkers can’t tell craft from macro and feel deceived when they find out. They think that Spanish beer is great and that Britain can’t brew beer, and they drink brands they believe are Spanish which are really brewed in Britain. Is there any product more confusing than beer?
I took this picture in Tesco. Tesco sell more beer than pretty much any other UK retailer. And yet they advertise “beer and lager” as if they are two different things. Like many people I know, they don’t understand that lager is beer.
Last week, as part of the launch of their new “indie beer” seal, SIBA, the Society of Independent Brewers and Associates, revealed that more people believe that Beavertown (owned by Heineken) and Camden Town (AB-InBev) are independently owned than believe that genuine indies such as Five Points, Vocation and Fyne Ales are independent. When told the truth, 75% said they felt they had been misled.
And now, research carried out on behalf of Scottish Brewer Innis & Gunn reveals that only 8% of respondents know that Madri, owned by Molson Coors, is brewed in the UK. That wouldn’t be so bad, except 38% of them believe Spain is the country that makes the best beer, the same number are prepared to pay more for “continental” beer than British beer (rising to 56% among 25-34 year-olds) and only 27% think Britain is any good at making beer.
Why do we think Spain brews better beer than Britain, even though almost all the “Span-ish” beer we drink in Britain is brewed here anyway? Apparently, because continental beer has unique or exotic flavours (34%), better ingredients (32%), traditional brewing methods (28%), stronger heritage (27%), and more care is taken in the brewing process (20%).
I have absolutely nothing against Spanish beer. I’d rather drink Cruzcampo, Mahou or Estrella Galicia than Carling or John Smith’s. But it’s simply not true that Spain has a better brewing tradition, better ingredients or a stronger brewing heritage than Britain.
There are several things going on here. One is that we’re simply weird in the UK about supporting our own makers. 46% of Innis & Gunn’s respondents said we made good cheese; 42% say we’re good at whisky; and 41% say we’re good at making film and TV. There’s nothing that over 50% of respondents think we’re good at, and 15% said Britain wasn’t good at making anything at all. When I wrote Pie Fidelity: In Defence of British Food in 2018, I was given a very cool reception by the food writing world. Word later reached me that people were surprised I had “gone Brexity.” If they’d bothered to read even a few pages of the book before arriving at this conclusion, they’d have realised it was the opposite of Brexity. But defend anything British, and suddenly you’re Nigel Farage.
Following on from this, and linked to the fact that none of the biggest brewers in Britain are now British-owned and therefore don’t give a damn about British brewing heritage, most beer drinkers are completely unaware that Britain actually has one of the greatest brewing traditions in the world. If you think the Canadian brand Carling is the best that “British” brewing has to offer, of course you’re going to think Spanish beer is better.
Then there’s the fact that we simply don’t know very much about beer at all, and don’t seem interested in learning more. I wrote Miracle Brew after another survey showed that only 22% of beer drinkers can correctly name the four main ingredients of beer. Campaign groups and industry bodies seeking to turn around the fortunes of cask ale constantly talk about the need to “educate the consumer.” But the last thing someone wants in the pub at 5.30pm is a lecture on secondary fermentation. When I worked in beer advertising, even my clients working for breweries could not have told you the difference between ale and lager or how hops contribute to the character of beer.
And finally or course, there’s the marketing from those brewers. It’s a curious truth in beer that whatever country you’re in, imports from another country are considered more premium. You don’t just buy the beer from that country, you buy a bit of its attitude or character as well, and foreign destinations are always more glamorous than our familiar, mundane surroundings.
The endless cycle of “premiumisation” means we must always be offered something new and exotic. The entire economy depends on us being less content with what we already have, so we need to buy something newer and preferably more expensive. Any lager used to be more premium than any ale. Then Australian lager (brewed in Reading) was superior to European lager. Stella Artois put “continental” lager (that had been rewed in Salmesbury and Magor) back on top, and then Peroni solved the problem that Italy had no brewing heritage at all by selling itself as a fashion brand instead of a beer, and suddenly Italy had a brewing heritage that has now moved to Spain (via Burton on Trent).
And what of craft beer? Small independent craft brewers upset the cycle by creating something new and interesting (and premium) without the permission of the global corporations that control the market. So those global corporations deliberately set out to render the term “craft” meaningless.
If this upsets or depresses you, what can you do about it?
Well, the funny thing is that in all the market research those big brewers do, when they ask people what source of information they trust most, the top answer is always “word of mouth.” They spend millions trying to replicate the kinds of conversations that happen in pubs up and down the country every day. Not all these conversations go the right way. I’ve yet to see an opening gambit along the lines of “You shouldn’t be drinking that beer, that beer’s shit,” lead to a response of “Hey, you have a point! Tell me more!” But everyone has a mate who knows a bit more about beer than they do, and defers to them on occasion. I have friends who aren’t really that into beer who say “I’ll have whatever Pete’s having.” None of them want to know about decoction or terpenes, but they engage when I tell them that lager can taste amazing and why don’t you try this one, or that IPA was originally British, not American, or that Madri is an invented brand that’s brewed in Burton-on-Trent and Tadcaster.
People don’t like feeling deceived or ripped off. They do like having little tidbits of trivia that are worth repeating to the people who know slightly less about beer than them.
Word-of-mouth works. That’s why large corporations, who spend millions deceiving and misleading drinkers, are so scared of it. I hear rumours that certain brewers have advised that “now is not the time” for the indie beer seal and “we should all be sticking together.” That’s the best evidence I’ve heard that it is a good thing to be doing.
