Though warm and frothy ale is an enduring symbol of Britain, there’s a fight on to save the traditional British pint from being flushed away by a fizzy tide of bland, mass-produced Euro-lager.
Real ale, made the time-honoured, natural way, is an endangered species that enthusiasts say is being muscled out of British pubs by international brewing giants flooding the market with lager and the latest fad drinks.
However, the Campaign for Real Ale (Camra) is fighting a rearguard action with a growing army of converts, determined to reverse the decline of what was last week officially named an “icon of England”.
Camra’s 29th Great British Beer Festival in London, which boasted the world’s widest range of beers, proved a hit with the convinced and the curious alike.
The annual five-day event called time at the weekend after more than 300 000 pints were served to 66 000 eager punters, smashing the festival attendance record.
Real ale is beer brewed using traditional ingredients and left to mature in the cask from which it is served in the pub.
“Real ale is under threat and heavily squeezed,” Camra chief executive Mike Benner says. “Forty years ago, all the beer in this country would have been real ale. Now about 85% of the total British beer market is in the hands of four huge lager companies. They’re not really interested in real ales.”
Including beer bought in shops, real ale has sunk to about 7% of the total beer market, he said.
The problem is that women and young men are swigging other drinks. Rather than the cherished foaming pint of nut-brown ale, a more modern image of Britain is that of the binge-drinking “lager lout”: obnoxious, booze-fuelled youths staggering around town centres vomiting and causing mayhem.
But the staff at the Great British Beer Festival were proudly wearing “Not for Lagerboys” T-shirts.
“Too many people see ale as a working man’s drink. There’s no shame in that: it was,” says Benner. “But to compete in this day and age, more women have got to drink beer and younger people have got to come back towards real ale.”
Lacking the mass-marketing muscle of the international drinks giants, Camra and small-scale breweries are inventing new ways to get Britain to rediscover a thirst for real ale.
To encourage first-timers, Camra has launched a standard labelling system. It shuns flowery descriptions of “grapefruit overtones” and use straightforward language to describe how the beer will taste, look and smell.
It is campaigning for landlords to have the legal right to serve a local guest beer as well as those they are obliged to by their pub chain.
And Benner feels the tide is turning in favour of the small, traditional brewer. “In all food and drink categories, people are increasingly moving away from big, global products towards locally made goods.
“They don’t want products with chemicals any more; they want natural, fresh produce. That’s the thing that’s going to make real ale appeal to young people for the right reasons — not through marketing, but because of what it is: a quality, genuine, craftsman-produced product.”
And, of course, there’s something patriotic about sipping a frothy pint, reckons Benner. “Real ale is our national drink and there’s a remarkable diversity of different styles and flavours. There’s about 500 brewers making 2 500 different beers, so it’s an exciting and vibrant market.”
Though the darkest days are behind them, Benner is in no doubt about the scale of the task facing Britain’s small brewers. “I think the decline will now reverse. It is a big challenge but the foundations are in place to make it work,” he insists. “Our membership grew by 12% last year and we’re now approaching 85 000 members, so it’s going in the right direction.”
He adds: “There’s no point lecturing lager drinkers. But we’re confident that if we can get people to try real ale, they’ll end up being enthusiasts.” — AFP