22nd June 2008

Hooky bitter wows US journalist

American journalist Jim Kershner found the perfect pint of English real ale at the Great Western Arms in Blockley. He tells the story in the Spokesman Review newspaper.

We've just returned from two weeks in England and, man, do I miss real English ale. "Real English ale" conjures up, to many Americans, the terms "tepid and flat." Yet this cask-conditioned ale is actually at the pinnacle of the brewer's art, and I have grown to love it. Which is now a bit of a problem, because genuine cask-conditioned ale in the British style is not easy to find on this side of the pond.

Yet not impossible. Several local pubs and bars have cask-conditioned ales. You won't find a lineup of five large-handled "beer engines," as in London pubs, but you can at least find one beer engine in a few places. More on that below, but first, let me explain exactly what a British cask-conditioned ale is.

It's a beer that arrives fresh from the brewery, with fermentation still unfinished. It goes into the cellar of the pub and begins a secondary fermentation right there in the cask. It is not under pressure, so when it's ready, the publican draws pints up from the cellar by hand, by pumping the handle of the beer engine.

I was shaky on these details myself, which is why I was flummoxed at the Great Western Arms pub, in the Cotswolds village of Blockley, when I asked the pub owner why one of his large tap handles had the label turned backwards. "Because that one's not ready yet," he said. "Not ready yet?" I said stupidly.

I was under the impression that a beer was either present or absent. Then he said, "Well, let's see. I haven't checked it today." He drew a part of a glass, held it up, sniffed it and took a sip. "Close, but not quite," he said. Later, I learned that this demonstrated a fundamental difference between cask-conditioned ale and virtually every other kind of beer and ale.

Cask-conditioned ale is a living thing, served only when it reaches the right stage. The first sip of any real British ale will immediately reveal several other differences. It is served at cellar temperature, has little carbonation and a relatively soap-sudsy head. And it almost always has less alcohol than an American beer.

At the Great Western Arms, we could choose between two beers from Hook Norton, one of England's best regional breweries: the Hooky Bitter, 3.6 percent alcohol by volume (ABV), and Old Hooky, 4.6 percent ABV.

A Budweiser, by comparison, runs about 5 percent ABV. Most American microbrews run well above 5. This low alcohol content is an important factor in Britain's pub culture. When you're drinking a few pints of Hooky Bitter with friends, you won't get blotto.