Brown - Miracle brew: hops, barley, water, yeast and the nature of beer

Pete Brown is a British author, journalist, blogger and broadcaster specialising in food and drink, especially the fun parts like beer and cider. His broad, fresh approach takes in social history, cultural commentary, travel writing, personal discovery and natural history, and his words are always delivered with the warmth and wit youd expect from a great night down the pub. He writes for newspapers and magazines around the world and is a regular contributor to BBC Radio 4s Food Programme . He was named British Beer Writer of the Year in 2009, 2012 and 2016, and Fortnum & Mason Online Drinks Writer of the Year in 2015. He lives in London.

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@petebrownbeer

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Man Walks into a Pub: A Sociable History of Beer

Three Sheets to the Wind: One Mans Quest for the Meaning of Beer

Hops and Glory: One Mans Search for the Beer that Built the British Empire

Shakespeares Local: Six Centuries of Everyday Life Seen Through One Extraordinary Pub

Worlds Best Cider: Taste, Tradition and Terroir, from Somerset to Seattle

The Pub: A Cultural Institution from Country Inns to Craft Beer Bars and Corner Locals

The Apple Orchard: The Story of Our Most English Fruit

To Liz,
who now drinks beer even when Im not there.

Dear Reader,

The book you are holding came about in a rather different way to most others. It was funded directly by readers through a new website: Unbound. Unbound is the creation of three writers. We started the company because we believed there had to be a better deal for both writers and readers. On the Unbound website, authors share the ideas for the books they want to write directly with readers. If enough of you support the book by pledging for it in advance, we produce a beautifully bound special subscribers edition and distribute a regular edition and e-book wherever books are sold, in shops and online.

This new way of publishing is actually a very old idea (Samuel Johnson funded his dictionary this way). Were just using the internet to build each writer a network of patrons. At the back of this book, youll find the names of all the people who made it happen.

Publishing in this way means readers are no longer just passive consumers of the books they buy, and authors are free to write the books they really want. They get a much fairer return too half the profits their books generate, rather than a tiny percentage of the cover price.

If youre not yet a subscriber, we hope that youll want to join our publishing revolution and have your name listed in one of our books in the future. To get you started, here is a 5 discount on your first pledge. Just visit unbound.com, make your pledge and type miracle5 in the promo code box when you check out.

Thank you for your support,

Dan, Justin and John

Founders, Unbound

Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.

C. S. LEWIS, MIRACLES, 1947

A friend of mine works for one of the UKs biggest brewers. They make some very nice beers, and one or two really special ones, but their main product the one that pays everyones wages and pension contributions is one of the biggest standard lager brands in the UK. Its adored by those who drink it, but regarded with disdain both by people who see themselves as knowledgeable and passionate about beer and by those who dont care for beer at all. Its the kind of beer thats often referred to as cooking lager, synonymous with British lads out on the lash, trading banter with their mates before popping off for a balti or a cheeky Nandos.

Its the kind of lager that used to be smart and funny, great ads on the telly that were all about the good times out with your mates, big logos at Premiership footie matches, pictures of bad boy rock stars in the papers with their arms round each other at some festival, peace sign on one hand, tin of lager in the other. But these days it seems to have lost its golden lustre. Dont get me wrong, its still the perfect pint for when ur smashing it wiv your brev Gaz who is a total ledge and the Archbishop of Banterbury, but for the twenty-first-century lad, who doesnt really think of himself as a lad any more anyway, come to think of it, its not necessarily the drink you want to be brandishing on your first date with Emma from Accounts, or the quiet pint with your boss to discuss your first serious promotion.

So this lager, along with most others like it, has been looking for a change of image. It wants people to see it now as more of a quality, premium product. If it saw itself in the mid-nineties as a Bantersaurus Rex with a Liam Gallagher haircut and simian gait, by the second decade of the twenty-first century it wanted drinkers to see it as some combination of George Clooney and Professor Brian Cox.

Which is why my mate found himself behind the two-way mirror familiar to anyone who has worked in marketing, watching a focus group of young beer drinkers respond to ideas for new ads that were being shown to them by a moderator.

This new campaign was designed to appeal to people who rejected the lager, to persuade them that maybe it was better than theyd always thought. As a precaution, they were also showing the ideas to people who already drank it, just to make sure nothing changed their mind about the beer they loved. So here were the Archbish, the Bantersaurus and their mates being shown posters that focused on the ingredients of the beer in question. The lead poster was very simple: a background of clear blue sky and golden fields shining in the sun, and in the foreground a strong, manly hand gripping a dew-frosted pint, hoisting it from the field into the sky, a gender-reimagined Lady of the Lake brandishing a modern Excalibur, illuminated by a very simple line, no gag, no clever wordplay, just a statement of fact:

MADE WITH 100% BRITISH BARLEY.

Ugh, said the Archbish, I dont want plants in my beer. Cant you go back to making it with chemicals like you always used to?

This story, which is true, illustrates how most of us have looked at beer whether we drink it or not over the last forty years or so. Beer is honest, down-to-earth, democratic and approachable, and thats what makes it so appealing. Sit down over a beer and it removes hierarchies, uncomplicates situations and liberates us from reserve. But that can easily flip over into regarding beer as common and unsophisticated, a simple commodity thats less important than the great times that happen around the drinking of it. Beer itself is often an afterthought, taken for granted even by the people who love it. The oddest thing about beer and theres much thats odd about beer is that even some of its most ardent drinkers are not only unaware of what its made of, they dont actually seem to care.

The chemicals line is one thats often thrown at industrial beer as an accusation, but it can also be part of beers perceived appeal. In The Football Factory , the frequently misunderstood

Sometimes you can destroy the magic of a thing by taking it apart to see how it works. Part of the appeal of beer is its straightforward simplicity. Would it spoil that first-pint perfection to be thinking about whats actually in the glass? Does the simple dismissal of chemicals actually help preserve some magic?