Tag: bottled beers

| Uncategorised

Ready to play? What’s the day? It’s bottling day!

Hello, I’m Brian Cant. *Sighs wearily*. Yes, I AM sure it’s spelled with an ‘A’!

This is an admission of being an old fart now I guess, but do you remember Play School? The highlight of every programme – before you were old enough to be sneery about who was hotter, Hamble or Jemima – was when they went through one of the windows to look at the world outside their pastel-toned Neverland. Would it be the square window? The arched window? Or the… the……. The ROUND window! That pause taught Chris Tarrant and Reality TV presenters everything they know. Once safely through the appropriate window we always seemed to end up in a factory. After a while they all blurred into one, but they never failed to fascinate. In the 1970s Britain’s economy was still manufacturing-based, and there was something both soothing and compelling about watching unidentifiable bits of extruded plastic pass along a conveyor belt, through various stamping and shaping and colouring and bending and cutting machines, the duff ones being lifted from the belt by blank-faced yet somehow cool factory workers in white coats and hair nets, until at the end you recognised ranks of shiny, brand new dolls. Or cars. Or ready meals. Everything in creation seemed to come from a production line, and Play School visited every single one of them. The windows seemingly looked in on God’s own workshop.I’m reminded of this every single time I visit a brewery. Because while beer writers and beer lovers may profess a passion for hops, or yearn to see ancient coppers still toiling away or breathe in the fruity aroma of rocky yeast from open square fermenters, as far as the brewers themselves are concerned there is one star attraction and one only: the bottling line.

God moves across the face of the brewery
We often talk about the uneasy and complex relationship between the brewer and his yeast in which the microscopic organism is always the ultimate boss. But the same applies to the bottling line. It’s a cruel mistress that enslaves and fascinates them. They love it and hate it. They want to smash it with hammers on the frequent occasions when something goes wrong, and to become one with the elegant dance of its shiny, sterile perfection when it works properly.The last brewery I visited was Hall & Woodhouse, and despite the extensive tour which included watching the beer being mashed in, the bottling line wasn’t running and they couldn’t apologise profusely enough. To hear them, you’d think they’d got us all the way to Dorset under false pretences. They genuinely thought they’d let us down. This reaction is exactly the same whenever I visit a brewery where the bottling line isn’t running.But be afraid if you visit when it is running. At the main SABMiller brewery in Milwaukee they show you a video of how beer is made, then take you on a tour of the bottling and packaging lines, and the distribution depot. They tell you all about how much beer they ‘truck and train’ across the US, and then it’s on to the tasting room. When I asked if we were going to see the actual beer being brewed on this brewery tour, I was told no, because compared to the bottling and distribution of beer, brewing itself is “pretty boring”.Perhaps in Miller’s case that’s true. But even good breweries worship their bottling lines like Pacific Cargo Cults venerate aeroplanes.

You’re impressed, right? You sure as hell better be, boy. You don’t wanna make me come over there, I’m tellin’ ya.
When I visited Asahi in Tokyo we had to watch the bottling line for half an hour. We were given every single specification. They told us that the man who invented Kaiten sushi – the conveyor belt with dishes that come around to your seat – was inspired by watching this very bottling line. He probably dreamt it up in desperation, a ruse to get out of there. “Yes, it’s lovely, really it is, but I’ve got to dash – I need to, um, that’s it! I need to invent a completely new model for how restaurants work! It’s been lovely though, Bye!”For the rest of us, paying homage to the bottling line is a sort of penitence, a sacrament that must be performed before we can proceed to the heaven of the sample room. So you stand in a strip-lit metal cavern, mute as the shrill chink of glass deafens you, and watch reverentially for about five minutes, pondering. Wow, think about how much beer that is. If you drank two or three bottles every day, how long would it take you to get through that lot? Gosh, they’re a much bigger brewer than you think. And then when you run out of such reflections you turn and indicate that you’re ready to move on, and the brewer looks at you, first hurt, like you’ve said you can’t tell what his five year old son’s drawing is supposed to be of, and then angry, and he grabs you by the hair and slams you against the safety railings and twists your heads to face the conveyor, and growls, “Look at it. I SAID LOOK AT IT. WHAT? YOU’VE ALREADY LOOKED AT IT? WELL LOOK AT IT SOME MORE! AND KEEP LOOKING AT IT UNTIL I TELL YOU THAT YOU’VE LOOKED AT IT ENOUGH!”Two hours later, hungry and scared, you see him finally turn without a word and leave through a door you’d forgotten existed, into a world you never thought you’d see again. And then you’re in the sample room tasting beers and he’s back to his old self, and everyone pretends nothing happened, and you have a great time.
I said look at it.
Bottling lines are expensive pieces of kit and amazing feats of engineering, so many tiny parts all working in concert. Something has to go wrong, and when it does it must be as frustrating as it is when I spend hours working on a document and then the computer crashes and I lose it. And I know that bottling lines can transform the fortunes of a brewery.
But what I could never say to a brewer’s face is that, while we understand that to you your bottling line is unique, and beautiful, and the best one in the whole world, to us it looks like all the other bottling lines, and when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. And remember – a lot of us saw Play School when we were kids too.
And if I’m ever invited to a brewery again after writing this post, I will insist that the entire thing is a joke and in no way reflects my truly feelings, my enduring love and fascination for these wonderful, beguiling pieces of machinery.

| Uncategorised

More good beer stuff in a national newspaper

Today The Independent features their 50 best (bottled) beers. I was asked to be one of the contributors, along with Roger Protz, Jeff Evans and Zak Avery.

I submitted about 18 out of the 50, but obviously there was some overlap between us so not all of mine are in. But it’s a great selection overall.

The website navigation is pretty dodgy, so if you’re interested, I’d suggest buying a copy of the paper if you can.

| Uncategorised

This is not just beer… it’s cider as well

(Declaration of interest: I have not been paid to write about this. But I was paid last year to consult on the strategic thinking that led to the range of beers and ciders discussed here. I am proud to have been involved. Read this knowing that I’m not entirely impartial.)
Supermarkets are in the main depressing places for beer fans. Beer is piled high and sold cheap. It’s often sold at cost price or below – its sole function is to get people through the doors. I’ve spoken to big brewers who say that if supermarkets could take it off the shelf once you’re through the door, they would. Once the beer has got you in, they want you to buy everything else except the beer. That’s why it’s always at the back of the store.
And what about quality beer? Well, they’ve always stocked a refreshingly broad range of bottled ales, but chains such as Asda and Sainsbury’s are now cutting back their selections.
Where supermarkets do stock good beer, the range is hopelessly confused. You get categories such as canned lager, bottled lager, world lagers and speciality lager next to each other. Umm… so what do world lager and speciality lager come in? Bottles. So why is bottled lager a separate category then? Umm.. dunno.
In my local Morrisons small bottles of Heineken are in bottled lager, and 660ml bottles are in world lager. No one knows why. Beers such as Chimay, Hoegaarden, Groslch Weizen and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale are stocked in speciality lager, even though they’re ales – the latter even says ‘pale ale’ on the bottle! But these are foreign and therefore fashionable beers, and ale is British and farty, so we can’t possibly have it with the ales.
The whole thing is a muddle, and it just confuses the shopper. No one does beer justice. Browsing time in the beer aisle has been shown to be shorter than that in any other aisle. Supermarket buyers have told me they would rather work in crisps or pet food than beer, because it’s more interesting. What a mess.
Worst of the lot was M&S – if you could even find the beer range in store, it was a few random bottles under the mixers and alcopops. It was the last area in store to hark back to the old days of M&S when they used to have St Michael’s branded stuff that was designed to look like a copy of a leading brand. You had the Stella copy, the Holsten copy, the John Smiths copy… even some of the brands they were attempting to be copies of had long since had their day. I was asked to do consumer interviews in store, and when we looked at the beer range, it was so bad, it brought down the image of the whole store in people’s eyes.
We recommended to M&S that if they wanted to be taken seriously there had to be a big enough range to allow people to browse and make an informed choice. We suggested a diversity of styles, with plenty of information for people on what the style was, what it tasted like, with a food matching recommendation on the back. M&S felt strongly that apart from beer style, the range should be organised according to provenance – each beer taking the lead on where it came from. They made a commitment to source each of the beers from the place it said it actually came from.
At this point I bowed out, having done my bit, and they went away to talk to suppliers, sourcing the beers, deciding on the final range. Brandhouse, the agency I’d been working with, did the label design and the overall look and feel for the range. I’ve had no further involvement. But after my last presentation about a year ago, I thought that if they were brave enough to do half of what we’d suggested, they’d have the best beer range of any supermarket.
Well, they’ve done a lot more than half of it. Yesterday, with my beer writer’s hat on (it’s kind of like a trilby with all stains on it and a couple of badges) I was invited with other beer writers along to a tasting of the new range that launches in store over the next few weeks.
There are about thirty beers and ciders. At this stage they’re brewed all across the UK, Ireland, Belgium, Spain, Italy and Germany. Each beer tells you where it’s from. Each beer is brewed by a reputable brewery and they’re upfront about who brewed what. These may be M&S own label beers, but they are quality beers.

I started off on the Belgian lager. It was soft, bready and hoppy – and reminded me of what another Belgian lager used to taste like about ten years ago. Very nice indeed. I then tried the Czech lager, which was quite different – more spicy and herby on the nose and more assertively hopped on the palate. A definite difference between two lagers that taste of lager.

There are five or six ciders, catering mainly to the mainstream but with a nod to quality. The Breton cider was a revelation – only 2%, a bit too sweet for me, but very refreshing and crying out to be paired with something rich and creamy.

There were German wheat beers (very good) and Belgian Tripels (not so good) but the range focussed on British ales. Here again there were good and bad, but the who notion of local sourcing combined with style information works really well. So the ‘Staffordshire IPA’ was brewed by Marston’s (why not call it Burton IPA though?) the London Porter was from Meantime, and so on.

It wasn’t all perfect – some of the beers just don’t work for me, and others were just… OK. The Christmas ale was trying too hard, the Kriek tasted too industrial. But there were some absolute stars. The Cornish IPA, brewed by St Austell, was already part of the range and is a standout. I loved the Scottish Heather ale and was surprised by how roundly and maltily satisfying the Lincolnshire bitter was. The chocolate porter, from Robinsons, is incredibly audacious – it just tastes like fizzy drinking chocolate, and I think that’s probably not a criticism.

The design is interesting and there are definite female cues on many of the beers.
The full range is only going into the biggest stores, but more space will be devoted to the range in store across the board. Over time they’re hoping to add some American beers, and hopefully the few lame ducks will be replaced as the range settles in and they see what’s selling.
Everyone will have their likes and dislikes here. But what’s brilliant is a premium retailer really taking beer seriously, making a very firm commitment to treating beer as a quality product to be explored and appreciated, rather than an industrial commodity. Hats off to ’em.

| Uncategorised

Er… what’s happening to the off-trade bottled ale revolution?

Bottled ales in supermarkets – brilliant!  OK, they have no idea whatsoever how to categorise and arrange beers, but they stock an incredibly diverse range at reasonable prices.  Or at least, they did.

I don’t actually go to supermarkets very much.  I’ve just got back from my nearest big Sainsburys at Angel, Islington, for the first time in a few months  I’ve always been impressed by the range of stuff they stock – a full range of Taste the Difference beers (brewed by Meantime), 750ml bottles of Meantime Porter and IPA, comprehensive ranges from the likes of Fuller’s and Marston’s, plus loads of micros.  As Angel is a pretty upmarket area, I’ve often used this store as an example of how affluent, curious people are clearly embracing ale.  
And now, they’ve refurbished it, approximately doubling the floorspace.  This could only be brilliant for beer, right? Right?
In a store that’s doubled in size, premium/speciality beers have been slashed from an entire aisle to two bays.  Premium bottled ale has been cut from three bays to one.  No Meantime.  No Micros.  No Taste the Difference.  In fact nothing that isn’t made by Marstons, Fullers, Innis & Gunn or Hall & Woodhouse, save the odd exception.
So I went next door.  One of the reasons for the refurb is that the old Woolies has now turned into a medium-sized Waitrose.  Now they’re the best supermarket chain for bottled beer.  They stock Deus and everything.  Um, not here they don’t.  The same ranges from the big regionals, plus one or two locals, and that’s it.
Nearer home, my corner shop has sold out and just reopened as a Sainsbury’s local.  The Turks who used to run it knew nothing about beer, but they stocked a fine and constantly changing range.  The new Sainsburys stocks three ales and about four lagers, in much greater quantities.
I’ve read that in most categories in grocery, supermarkets will only stock the top two or three brands – higher quantities, better terms for them, less hassle, less choice for the consumer.  But until now beer has always been different.  
Is this now changing or am I just unlucky with my choice of store? If this is typical of what’s happening across the country, it could be disastrous for smaller brewers, as supermarket chains don’t look at range and diversity, just who the top three or four brewers are, and maybe the odd concession to someone else local.  No disrespect to Marston’s, Fullers and H&W – I frequently buy their beers – but if they are going to be the only ones available outside specialist beer shops in future the whole category will be poorer for it.
Please tell me this is not happening in your local supermarkets too.