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Tag: Beer writing
Wikio Rankings – February
It’s all change in the Wikio rankings – not sure what’s going on!
Congrats to Young Dredge for making the top spot.
Interesting to see some wine guys making a much stronger showing than they have over the last year or so – this can only be encouraging in terms of diversity etc.
I’m also really pleased to see brewers’ own blogs making an increasingly strong showing, with Adnams, Sharps and Thornbridge in there – not sure what’s happened to Brew Dog!
Off the back of hosting The Session, Reluctant Scooper shows a strong rise. If you’ve never read him before, please take the chance to do so now.
Calling all beer writers: major new beer writing competition announced
Oxford Brookes University and Wells and Young’s have come together to offer £2000 Bombardier Beer prize for writing on “the joys and jolliness of beer”
Bombardier Beer and Oxford Brookes University today announce the launch of a new competition with a £2000 cash prize offered for the best piece of writing about beer and its role in society.
The competition is open to anyone who writes about beer – or aspires to do so – from mainstream journalists and the top names of the beer-writing world, to young bloggers and as-yet-unpublished enthusiasts.
The judges are asking for a piece of up to 1500 words on the subject of beer’s role in society, or as writer, food critic and competition judge Charles Campion puts it, “the joys and jolliness of beer”, and beer’s role as a social lubricant.
“We’re not looking for technical writing, campaigning tracts or extracts form guidebooks,” continues Campion, “beer is the most sociable drink in the world and doesn’t get fair recognition. This prize is an attempt to help change that.”
As well as Campion, judges will include Paul Wells from Wells and Young’s who are sponsoring the prize, Donald Sloan, the Chair of Oxford Gastronomica at Oxford Brookes University, and Pete Brown, writer and winner of the Michael Jackson Gold Tankard Award for Beer Writer of the Year in 2009.
The closing date for entries will be Friday 1st April 2011. The winner will then be announced at the 2011 Sunday Times Oxford Literary Festival on the evening of Friday 8th April, during a dinner and reception at the Oxford Malmaison Hotel
For full details on format of entries and submission process contact Razia Nabi (rnabi@brookes.ac.uk)
2010: What the blazes was all THAT about? (Part one)
“What the fuck was that wooshing past” sensation of the year: Beer Writer of the Year 2009
Personal warm glow of the year: The Beer Trilogy
Heroes of the year: How many do you want?
More tomorrow. (This may actually be a three-parter.)
Simon Jenkins crowned Beer Writer of the Year
So last night I had to hand over the title. It’s not fair – my year as Beer Writer of the Year passed very quickly – partly because it was only 51 weeks, with this year’s dinner being a week earlier than last year.
Part of winning meant I had to be chair of the judges this year. We were deluged by a record entry: 45 individuals entered work. On average, they each entered 2.3 of the available six categories, with between one and six pieces of work each time. My fellow judges and I read about 400 different pieces of beer writing, from 400 word columns to 1000 page books, and everything in between.
Last night, after a cracking beer and food dinner prepared by Michelin star chef Sriram Aylur, we revealed the winners. I’m too hungover to go into great detail about each one, and if you’ve read this far you probably just want to get a quick look at the names anyway. There are some familiar names and some new ones. If there’s anyone here who you’ve never read before, I urge you to check them out.
I’ll just say a bit about our overall winner, Beer Writer of the Year 2010, Simon Jenkins. Because he writes in a regional newspaper not many of us get to see his work, and he’s already being described as a ‘new face’ despite the fact that he’s about my age and has been writing pub reviews for years. It’s so good then, that we have a regional category that allows great writing to reach a wider audience. I’ve put a link at the bottom of this post to a random pub review he’s written for the Yorkshire Post, and I’d urge you to follow the links from that page to the other reviews listed down the side. I’ve also linked to all other winners’ work where I can.
There was an awful lot of writing to read while judging. But with some people we got to the end of their submission and were disappointed that there wasn’t any more to read. Simon exemplified this. That’s one reason he won.
Another reason is that pubs are going through hell at the moment, and anyone reading Simon’s review will be overcome by a desperate urge to go to the pub – any pub – by the time they’re halfway down the page. I said when presenting the award last night that one of the biggest challenges facing all beer writers is the struggle to reach a wider audience, to not just preach to the converted.
I really don’t want to sound ungrateful to any of the beer fans who read this blog, my books or any of the work produced by the writers below. But the aim of the Guild is to spread the appreciation of beer. We’re getting better at doing that, we’re more successful all the time, but we still struggle to bring in new people to the world of beer. With his pub reviews, the judges felt this is exactly what Simon excels at.
Cheers.
Brewer of the Year
Stefano Cossi, Thornbridge Brewery
Budweiser Budvar John White Travel Bursary
Winner: John Conen, Bamberg and Franconia – Germany’s Brewing Heartland
Bishop’s Finger Award for Beer and Food Writing
Winner: Will Beckett, Imbibe magazine
Brains SA Gold Award for Best Online Communication
Winner: Mark Dredge
Runner-up: Jerry Bartlett
Adnams Award for Best Writing in Regional Publications
Winner: Simon Jenkins, Yorkshire Evening Post
Runner-up: Duncan Brodie, East Anglian Daily Times
Wells & Young’s Awards for Best Writing for the Beer and Pub Trade
Winner: Larry Nelson, Brewers’ Guardian
Runner-up: Isla Whitcroft, Beer, the Natural Choice
Molson Coors’ Award for Best Writing in National Publications
Winner: Zak Avery
Runner-up: Adrian Tierney-Jones
The Michael Jackson Gold Tankard Award – Beer Writer of the Year 2010
Simon Jenkins
(This link takes you to one of Simon’s pub reviews in the Yorkshire Evening Post. There’s a list down the right hand side of more pub reviews – all Simon’s.)
October Wikio Rankings
Gosh, it’s that time of the month again, when beer bloggers get grouchy and irritable for a few days and I’ll just draw that analogy to a close before it gets going.
Here are the rankings for the month of September:
Wikio.co.uk Beer & Wine Ranking – October 2010
Ranking made by Wikio.co.uk
No change up at the top then. But look what’s happening overall: with the honourable exception of Spittoon (which to be fair looks like a very well put together blog about wine and food) the rest of the top 20 are now all beer blogs.
So momentous is this, Wikio has even started calling it the ‘beer and wine’ listing rather than ‘wine and beer’.
I wrote a section in the Cask Report about how the online beer community is actually helping drive the growth of craft brewing in the UK, spreading enthusiasm and knowledge, giving brewers a platform to showcase their beers. With my marketing hat on, when you look at the twiss ups, meet the brewer events, V-blogs, promotions, beer swaps etc that are happening now, I think we’re seeing a new marketing model emerge, where consumers and manufacturers work together to promote the category. Sure we can be inwards looking and cliquey at times, as any community can, but please, keep it up – this is brilliant.
And do let me know if you’d like to feature the exclusive rankings on your blog at any time.
Exclusive: Wikio rankings for July
Yes, it’s the monthly blog post you love to hate: the Wikio rankings!
There have been some changes at Wikio this month so it’s all a little later than usual, but below are the movers and shakers for January 2010, due to be published in the Wikio site on 10th August:
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Beer blogs are now up to 18 of out the top 20 “wine and beer blogs”. There’s also a creeping increase in the amount of beer coverage in the nationals – Young Dredge is getting some pieces on the Guardian’s Word of Mouth blog, and we’ve had two paid-for beer supplements in national press so far this year. A few of us have also had more bits in the papers than we’re used to getting.
What do you think – is the beer message finally starting to come through?
Ice Cold in Alex
“They served it ice-cold in Alex…
For the moment that he shut his eyes, he could see every detail of that little bar in the lane off Mahomet Ali Square; the high stools, the marble-topped counter, the Greek behind it. The sound of the place came back… the purr of the overhead fan, a fly, buzzing drowsily, the muffled noise of the traffic seeping through the closed door…
Then he thought about the beer itself, in tall thin glasses, so cold that there was a dew glistening on the outside of them, even before they were put down on the counter; the pale amber clearness of it; the taste, last of all.”
I like to look at how writers who don’t normally write about beer treat it when it crosses their path – some of the best ‘beer writing’ doesn’t come from beer writers at all. They’re starting from a different perspective and with a different frame of reference. If they’re good, they can make even the most knowledgeable and experienced beer enthusiast think again about the essence and the role of great beer.
Christopher Landon served as a ‘Desert Rat’ in North Africa in the Second World War. In 1957 he fictionalised his experiences for a novel that went on to become one of the most famous war films of all time: Ice Cold in Alex. It contains possibly the most iconic beer drinking shot in the whole history of cinema – but we’ll come to that later. A few months ago I spotted a reprint of the novel in a bargain bookshop. Tempted by the cover illustration of a tall, full, pilsner glass, I decided to give it a go.
The opening passage above forms the opening of the book. Captain George Anson is a man ‘with too much sun, too much sand, too much of everything to bear.’ Stuck in Tobruk as a circle of Nazi armour closes around it, he’s succumbing to alcoholism, cauterizing his senses with a repetitive, metronomic swigging of the whisky bottle.
As the fall of Tobruk becomes inevitable, all non-essential personnel are shipped out to Alexandria before the noose closes. Anson is charged with getting two nurses in an ambulance to safety. He takes with him his faithful mechanic, Sergeant Major Tom Pugh, and on the way they pick up Zimmerman, a stranded South African officer who is not all he seems.
(Oh alright, he’s a German spy.)
Needless to say, things don’t go according to plan. They’re forced to detour deeper and deeper into the desert to avoid the German armour. At one point a German armoured column fires on them, killing one of the nurses. As the Germans decide whether or not to let them go, Anson’s old self emerges, and he swears off the whisky for the duration of their journey:
“Anson’s voice went on, it was different, held a faraway, dream-like quality. “If he has… I’m going to tell you something right now, Tom. It will be a sort of peace offering. Do you know the next drink I’m going to have? A beer, Tom. A bloody great, tall, ice-cold glass of Rheingold in that little bar off Mahoment Ali Square in Alex… and I’ll buy you one, all of you one, because I’m bloody well going to get you there.”
Rheingold was an American lager, from a New York brewery founded in 1883 by a German Jew called Samuel Liebmann. Anson calls it “The best and coldest Yankee beer in the Delta”. But reading about it in this context, its German name and ancestry says something in and of itself about war’s bitter ironies.
The biggest character in the book though is the desert itself. Landon’s descriptions of the mirage – a solid, shimmering wall throwing all manner of illusions at them – the blazing sun and the unyielding, hostile but ever-changing sand, render North Africa as a different planet. As the book forces you to consider the desert from the point of view of the average Briton in the early 1940s – it strikes you that it might as well have been.
Anson, Tom Pugh and Diana the surviving nurse figure out that Zimmerman’s a kraut spy pretty quickly. But the desert forces them to unite against a common enemy, survival coming before the war against Nazism.
Anson rallies and his inspirational leadership galvanizes the other three. The beer has become totemic to him, not just for the alcoholic hit he’s denying himself until they reach safety, nor for the promise of near-orgasmic refreshment after the parched dessert: he’s promised to buy them a beer. And to buy them a beer, he has to get them to Alexandria.
One night, Anson and Diana are talking on watch, under the stars:
““Let’s talk about something else… Beer.”
“But I thought that was out.”
“It is – until that date in Alex. Do you know – I’ve been thinking about that one particular drink all day. I’ve told you about the bar, haven’t I? But that Rheingold – it’s so bloody cold that there’s a sort of dew on the outside of the glass. I always run my finger up and down – to make a sort of trail – before I have my first sip.””
Beer is hope.
I wrote in Man Walks into a Pub about some ancient myths in which beer is a gift of hope to humanity, a consolation prize for having to cope with knowledge, sin and inevitable mortality. Here it’s a rock that Anson can cling to, to prevent himself from falling apart.
“He was not hungry, not thirsty – but once when the captain said, “I hope that beer’s bloody cold,” his mouth started watering uncontrollably.”
Finally, they make it. The bar is just as Anson described it, empty because it’s still early. The barman sees four unwashed, filthy tramps until Anson rouses him with a parade ground bark.
““Get cracking, Joe. FOUR VERY, VERY COLD RHEINGOLDS.”
When they came up, again they were as he said they would be, pale amber in tall thin glasses, and so cold, the dew had frosted on the outside before he put them down. They stood in a row now, but Tom waited, as he knew the others were waiting, for Anson to make the first move. He stared at his for a moment, looking all round as if it were a rare specimen, then ran his finger up and down the side of the glass, leaving a clear trail in the dew. He said, “That’s that,” and lifted the glass and tilted it right back. Tom watched the ripple of the swallow in the lean throat, and there was a tight feeling inside him and his eyes were smarting and he knew that in a moment he would cry. So he lifted up his own glass and swallowed it fast.
When Anson put his glass down it was empty. “I quite forgot to drink your healths,” he said. Then to the barman, “Set ‘em up again.””
It’s ready-written to be the climactic scene of the film adaptation. This is the ultimate thirst, the best beer you’ve ever tasted, a reward for the hardest day’s work imaginable. It works perfectly in the film – so perfectly, in fact, that all it took was one editor’s snip, one line of dialogue and a title to turn it into the second-best beer ad of all time.
Of course, the fact that for some reason the filmmakers switched Rheingold for Carlsberg detracts a level or two from the meaning. But without that bit of corporate chicanery, there’d have been no ad. And if there hadn’t been an ad, I would have forgotten about the film. And if I’d forgotten about the film, I would never have read this powerful, moving little book.
I can’t find the ad itself on YouTube, and blogger won’t let me upload the mpeg I have of it from my laptop, but here is the piece of film Carlsberg later used in the ad, without title and voice over:
Why Beer Matters – Second place runner up
People seemed to enjoy reading John Bidwell’s piece, (and it’s gratifying to see the competition topic still being discussed on beer blogs) so I now present the entry that narrowly beat him.