Is the CAMRA discount killing cask ale?

From my first foray into drinking real ale, I always had a soft spot for CAMRA. Sure, their meet-ups of beardy straight white middle-aged men could do with a bit of diversity, but they always seemed a friendly enough, if decidedly ‘uncool’ bunch.

Over time, sneers in CAMRA’s direction became more common, and inspired in me a somewhat protective knee-jerk response. It seemed to start around the time that the first BrewDog pubs displayed signs reading ‘No CAMRAs’ upon the walls of their hip joints; no doubt tongue-in-cheek, but with an underlying acidic aftertaste. There was a school yard bully vibe about it that struck me as unpleasant. And of course, we all know that what starts as a series of playful jibes at the bespectacled dorky kid eventually amounts to something much bigger.

My CAMRA card was last in the front of my wallet around the same time that I last carried a student card. Like all cash-strapped youngsters, I was a bargain hunter when it came to going out and having a good time, and I took my real ale habit the most seriously of all. It brought me fresh joy each time I found myself receiving 20p off a pint, and I admit that at the time I never thought too deeply about exactly who was discounting me – was it CAMRA themselves, the pubs, the suppliers, or the breweries?

For a while I imagined that it might be the pubs. The Bree Louise in Euston sent a drinking buddy of mine into shock upon demanding about £5.50 for a pint of Guinness several years ago. This seemed so steep given their usual prices that I couldn’t help wondering if this was some sort of ‘bad taste tax’. People who want to drink Guinness when there’s three stouts and two porters on the ale pumps will drink Guinness no matter what it costs. Could it be that the pricing up of the beers which enjoy an absurdly loyal and almost cult-like following was helping to keep the indie selections cheaper for the rest of us?

But on closer inspection, it’s easy to see that the CAMRA discounts are not doing wonders for everyone – especially the breweries. Ben Duckworth, Director and Co-Founder of Affinity Brew Co spoke to me about how breweries can often suffer due to the discounts offered to CAMRA card holders. In turn, the pubs want to pay less for the casks in order to preserve their profit margins. This echoed the sentiment from Matthew Curtis’ recent ‘Cask Confidential’ article for Ferment Magazine; cask is often the “lowest common denominator… treated without the care and attention that a premium product both requires and deserves.”

Ben highlighted the two main threats to cask ale today – pricing and presentation.
“For too long, people have only been willing to spend under £4 for a warm pint of flat ale. Which is probably all it’s been worth!”
Ben explained that this led to an effective ‘race to the bottom’, with pubs looking to pay as little as possible. He said he has heard of casks going for as low as £40 each.
“That’s £1 a litre, and is an absolute insult.”

As we talked, I felt dismayed and a little embarrassed to have celebrated the low cost of cask over keg throughout my student days and early twenties. But then I immediately saw the problem; as craft keg offerings have been getting better and better, cask quality has plateaued and demand has stagnated. It’s tough to feel ok about paying an extra quid for something that isn’t constantly upping its game. Looked at it this way, the demise of cask under discounts seems like a sad self-fulfilling prophecy. Everyone loves value for money, but could it be that the CAMRA discount could eventually help to kill off the great quality cask ale that it has worked so hard to promote?

This Catch-22 definitely demands a new approach. Ben told me that Affinity’s Cask 2019 festival aims at exactly that.
“We thought, let’s get some of the best breweries in the country, some of whom don’t normally put their beers into cask, to put their beers into cask. We encase all the casks in a cooled container, and serve them on gravity.”
The festival will be offering beers at £5 a pint (halves are also available) and will feature beers from breweries such as Beavertown and Pressure Drop.

Ben’s dedication to reviving the demand for cask gives me hope, and it definitely sounds like it’s time to snap out of my nostalgia. As such, I promise that I will try my very best not to be appalled and whinge about the good ol’ days the next time a pint of cask costs me a fiver. And maybe at the Cask 2019 event, I’ll finally get to see what Smog Rocket tastes like on cask. Now there’s something to look forward to.

You can’t stop progress

As Thomas Wolfe’s novel so wisely observed, you can’t go home again.

I spent my student years in Nottingham. It was here that one lunchtime during my first semester, a fellow philosophy student convinced me to try a pint of cask ale rather than my usual lager. The beer was Harvest Pale from Castle Rock brewery, a Nottingham institution. Shortly after, I graduated to the slightly more toothsome Screech Owl by the same brewery. The damage was done; I was hooked for life.

In the coming years, my passion for cask ale would evolve and my tastes would turn darker. I’d sample my first autumnal ambers, plum porters, spicy ruby ales and oyster stouts. But of course, the first cask ale I had ever tasted would continue to hold a special place in my heart.

The Castle Rock pubs were some of my favourites in the city. In particular the Keanes Head, squirreled away on an alley overlooking a beautiful church, and Canal House, with its quaint wood-panelled interior and outdoor terrace perfect for the summer months. Pints of Harvest Pale cost £2.50 usually, £2.30 with a Castle Rock loyalty card, and £2.00 on a Monday. I will remember these prices until I die. Fortunately, it was entirely possible to drink great beer on a student budget in Nottingham, and it remains one of the many reasons that I’m relieved to have gotten out of London to study.

I landed back in the Big Smoke eventually, and of course the prices were a bit of a punch in the stomach. But there was a silver lining; my beer obsession was dividing and multiplying fast, and with hundreds of new drinking spots to tap into, it was impossible to be bored.

I returned to Nottingham every year or so in an attempt to rekindle the special connection I felt with my university city. Each time, I felt that we had grown apart a little more. The changes to the place I had loved so dearly became increasingly apparent. Taps offering trendy keg beers had appeared in my favourite boozers. Charming ‘spit-n-sawdust’ pubs had gotten modernising face-lifts.

Of course, it’s wrong to expect things to stay the same for ever. But before, there was something nice about the fact that in a fairly compact city which boasted a huge amount of pubs, local was the focus in nearly every one. You could spend an entire afternoon wandering between watering holes, drinking a different pint in each, and never drink a beer that was brewed outside of Nottingham. Maybe if you were out for long enough, you could get a beer brewed in Derbyshire. Just to get really exotic, y’know.

Whilst these beers are of course still available, they now share so much more of the spotlight with many others from down south and from across the seas. It’s just not quite the same community drinking experience that it used to be, from my perspective.

Back in London, I decided to embrace the changing tides fully, heading to The Rake with an old drinking buddy. It’s a tiny little bar nestled in Borough Market, and it was an after-work favourite of mine when I worked in London Bridge. This place is the opposite end of the spectrum from my old Nottingham haunts; I’m fairly certain that I have never had the same beer there twice.

I arrived hoping to beat the after-work rush. But alas, gone are the days when I could nip in at 5pm and catch a table. At 4.50pm, it was already crowded. Their beer board was as diverse as ever, but what had changed quite a bit was the prices. A few of the pints on offer cost an eye-watering £8.00. My friend and I exchanged exasperated glances. This wasn’t our little secret anymore; we would have to keep moving with the times and find a new one.

 

Beer naming trends – how far is too far?

The last decade or so – and the last few years in particular – have seen increased stylistic explosions in the brewing industry. They say that variety is the spice of life – but is there any substance behind the labels for these stylized new brews?

Some of these creations clearly pay homage to traditional brewing styles of countries like Germany and Belgium, whilst adding a modern, hipster-pleasing twist. Other concepts seem so harebrained that they appear to be borne out of an ill-advised brainstorm session in a hotbox.

Here’s my take on three craft brews that the barman would have given you a very funny look for ordering 20 years ago.

1. Black IPA

Once you get past the annoying contradictory name (and I humbly suggest that we all unite in refusing to do so, and adopt ‘Cascadian Dark Ale’ instead), this style isn’t all that bad an idea. It’s a beer ideal for the chilly winter nights, when you want something rich, smooth and dark, with a bit of the bitter bite that one is used to finding in a stout, combined with the late hop additions of your more refreshing summer beer choices for that full-flavored finish.

Beers were cropping up on shelves and taps under this name as early as 2009, but seemed to reach a new peak of popularity around the 2016 mark. The thing is, it’s not new; many records suggest that beer fitting this description has been around for well over a century. Whilst traditional British darker ale styles have gone easy on hop flavor, German Schwarzbier has long allowed malt and hops to express themselves in unison as part of a dark beer. So perhaps this dark and hoppy craft offering could be said to be a top-fermented take on this German classic?

So I’m all for the revival, but why the name? Why did ‘Black IPA’ take off in popularity precisely how and when it did? Simple; it’s a gimmick. Black IPA rides on the coat tails of the IPA-centric craft beer revolution of the last couple of decades, and can be easily marketed to plaid-clad youngsters who know their Stone from their Sierra Nevada, but wouldn’t know a Porter or Breakfast Stout if it smacked them in the face. Cynical? Perhaps.

2. Double IPA (DIPA)

I have a confession: the fuzziness of the definition of a DIPA annoys the hell out of me.

The concept of a DIPA is that the malt and hops are each scaled up to leave the bill and balance more or less unchanged, but to create a stronger, more punch-packing beer. All sounds great, right? But here’s the thing – one brewer’s IPA, is another’s DIPA, is another’s TIPA… and so on. Somehow, I find it a little discomforting that there appears to be no particular floor or ceiling which a DIPA must satisfy.

True, they tend to be higher ABV. But I have had DIPAs at 7% and IPAs at 7.5%. I’ve had West-Coast style IPAs with such a fierce hop flavor that they resembled medicine more closely than beer, and then I’ve braced for the DIPA from the same brewery, and been pleasantly surprised by a well-rounded, lengthy and full-flavored finish.

Maybe it’s my issue – I’m just too keen to put beers in boxes, and sometimes it just doesn’t work that way. But mostly I think it’s just that I’m a little tired of West-Coast style IPAs. The hop explosion has its place, but the innovation on the New England side of this classic style is the most interesting current trend, in my humble opinion.

3. White Stout

I’ve saved the most ludicrous until last.

I visited an incredibly trendy craft beer bar in Berlin earlier this year which boasted this style on tap, and I felt immediately confused. So what the fuck is it?

White Stout is a golden colored ale which exhibits some rich chocolate and vanilla flavors that one would usually expect to find in a darker beer. It might also have a thick and creamy mouthfeel that is characteristic of stouts.

Call me a purist, but I really struggle to get my head around this one. As a homebrewer, ‘stout’ conjures to mind grain varieties that only a magician could extract a pale color from. I love making pales with creamy mouthfeels, and flaked oats and wheat are my go-to grain additions to create this, yet I have never dreamed of labeling any such concoction a ‘white stout’ rather than a ‘white ale’.

So once again, I’m all for this beer style in principle, but it’s misnamed. Or perhaps there are already enough new style names, and this experiment does not actually need a name at all. If it has lactose, it’s a milkshake IPA or milkshake pale. Or if it has specialty toasted malts, what’s wrong with just calling it a Toasted Pale Ale?

 

What do you think? Which new brew styles are onto something truly unique? I’d love to hear your thoughts (and beer recommendations) in the comments below!

Saison ale recipe

Mash in @ 150F
2 row pale malt (85% grain bill), carapils (10%) and flaked oats (5%)

Kent Golding first wort hops
Styrian hops half way through the boil
Coriander seed at 20 min left (approx 25 small crushed seeds)
Styrian hop additions at 10 min left, 5 min left and at end
Columbus hops at end

Safale S-33 dry yeast pitched at 66F

Total grain: 2lb 6oz per gallon
Total hops: 0.8 oz per gallon

saison

I was very happy with how this turned out. Safale S-33 performed very well in this traditional Belgian style. I fermented for 2 weeks in primary, and then went straight to bottle conditioning for 4 weeks. Citrus and spice notes, a refreshing tang, very clean drinking, with no off flavors or aromas. I will definitely be repeating this one.

A weekend in Beer City USA

Fall is a great time for visiting the Midwest. With the humid summer over, a gentle cool breeze whips through the air. My day out exploring the beer scene of Grand Rapids started with clouded skies, but luckily these cleared by lunchtime, and the bright sun took the chill off – just as well given that I didn’t have a warm jacket.

Grand Rapids is the second largest city in the state of Michigan. The metro area seemed sprawling but the downtown area felt quite small and walkable. So what made Grand Rapids earn the title Beer City USA?

 

Arguably, it all started with Founders in 1997. In the last couple of decades, Founders have become one of the best known breweries in the country, and their tasty beers have reached further shores; Byron burger restaurants in the UK have been serving up bottles of the crowd-pleasing All Day IPA for several years now.

 

The Founders taproom was majestic. A lengthy beer list, speedy service and a killer food menu, all with a great view of the shiny brewery through floor to ceiling windows. Apparently there was also a second bar, which I didn’t even see.

Recent years have seen aggressive expansion of the brewing scene in GR. The city was first recognized as ‘Beer City’ when it had fewer than 20 breweries, and as of now the city’s Ale Trail boasts 80+ breweries. So, it’s easy to see how 40,000 beer tourists flock here every year.

 

We finished the afternoon in town at Grand Rapids Beer Company. Sat at the counter, I enjoyed a lovely Hefeweizen. Then it was time to head home to sample some rich bottled stouts. My favorite was The Poet from New Holland Brewing; beautiful creamy mouthfeel and rich roasted flavors. Richer still was the slightly higher ABV Dragon’s Milk, which is aged in oak barrels for 120 days.

Any lover of great beer of all varieties would enjoy a weekend in Grand Rapids. And, although it’s not quite a GR brew, I highly recommend getting hold of the Two Hearted Ale, brewed at Bells in Kalamazoo, MI. It’s one of the cleanest and most well-rounded IPAs I’ve ever had.

 

 

 

Temperature control

Based in the Southwest USA, I am sadly not blessed with a basement, and so temp control is a rather critical and cumbersome task at all times of the year.

All summer long, I used a large freezer unit outside in the garage, with a Baylite pre-wired temp-controller to create a fermentation chamber with a temp range of of 66F to 67.5F. This ensured that fermentation started towards the top of the recommended range for my yeast strains, so yeast got to work quickly and I would typically see bubbles in the airlock within 24 hours.

This winter, I’ll be moving my fermenters indoors, as I don’t have a way of adding heat to the existing unit. I’m apprehensive about not having quite the same level of strict control over the fermenting temp, especially in the first couple of days after the yeast is pitched. Having said this, I did make some great beer back in the UK indoors. My usual strategy is to select a cupboard which is neither too near nor too far from the home’s primary heat source, and far from things which could cause warming or cooling if possible. For example, the kitchen is probably not ideal, as most kitchens heat up considerably when something is in the oven. Close to a window or against an external wall is also not optimal, as much heat will be lost in this area, especially during overnight lows.

I’ve carefully selected a cupboard accordingly. I’m confident that I’ll be able to keep the space in the 60F to 69F range. My plastic fermenters have thermometers on the side, and I have a mini digital thermometer for the space, so I will be able to monitor the difference between the ambient temp in the cupboard and the temp of the beer itself. Temperatures of fermenting beers spike in the first couple of days, as the process creates its own heat. I’ll be keeping an eye on the beer temps and using the old-fashioned cold water bath for the fermenters if I start to see the temp creeping above 73F.

Beer tasting at Goose Island Brewhouse

On my recent visit to Chicago, I couldn’t pass up the chance to visit the taproom for Goose Island brewery. Goose Island IPA was one of the first US craft beers I tasted some years back, but I’d never tried many of their other offerings.

The taproom offered excellent views of mash tuns and fermenters, and had an industrial vibe whilst also feeling like a real bar. This was right up my street; I really like it when breweries lean in to the function of their space, and go the extra mile to show off the shiny production facilities to drinkers in an aesthetically pleasing way.

The menu was extensive. My husband opted for the barrel-aged beer flight, and I chose a mix-and-match selection of some slightly lower ABV beers, so we both got to taste eight different beers.

Everything was good, and more importantly, nothing was boring or awful. The were some standouts, including the IPA Now, which was pleasantly heavy on the pine, and the Sofie Saison, which had the perfect balance between citrus and peppery aromas and flavors. The smoked Helles beer packed a punch, and I made a mental note to pair something like this with spare ribs in the future.

I’m not big on meaty scotch ales myself, but my husband thought that the Copper Project was about the best in this category he’s had recently. The biggest surprise was the Brasserie Blanc, a beer fermented with Napa Valley Muscat grapes, and aged in a wine barrel. My last foray into a white wine cask beer was rather unpleasant, so I was somewhat apprehensive. But it was great – crisp and fruity, yet still with a hint of oak. Something that would appeal to cider fans and highly adventurous beer drinkers alike.

Overall, a lovely time stepping out of my beer drinking comfort zone, and the perfect end to a city break. I’m already looking forward to my next visit to Chicago – please feel free to leave a comment if you know of any other breweries that I should check out next time!

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