Charles W. Bamforth - In Praise of Beer

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Bamforth, Charles W., 1952 author.
Title: In praise of beer / Charles Bamforth
Description: New York, NY : Oxford University Press, [2020] | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019035556 (print) | LCCN 2019035557 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780190845957 (hardback) | ISBN 9780190845971
(epub) | ISBN 9780190845964 (updf)
Subjects: LCSH: Beer.
Classification: LCC TP577 .B3445 2020 (print) | LCC TP577 (ebook) |
DDC 641.2/3dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019035556
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019035557

For John Hudson, Tony Portno, Gus Guthrie, Bernard Atkinson, Graham Stewart, Doug Muhleman, and Ken Grossman, the people who did more than anyone to shape my journey in beer.

There is a supposed Chinese curse that says, May you live in interesting times. There is no doubt whatsoever that, when it comes to beer, these most certainly are extremely interesting times. In China itself the brewing of beer has accelerated at an astonishing rate in the past couple of decades. Elsewhere, in a huge range of countries but perhaps best typified by the likes of the United States, United Kingdom, and Australia, there is a burgeoning so-called craft sector, with a vast growth in the number of brewing companies. Here in California, as elsewhere, there is no end to the ingenuity of these brewers, who are forever pushing the boundaries in terms of styles, ingredients, and presentation of products that can either delight, disturb, or distress the drinker, depending on perceptions, preferences, and preconceived biases. No matter, the reality is that the beer world is emerging and exciting. There is an ongoing need for new brewers who are well informed and capablefor which folks like me, whose day job has been to make a living out of teaching, are inordinately grateful. Equally, there seems to be a growing thirst from customers, not only for the beers themselves but also for an understanding of what they are drinking.

Most of the books I have written over a quarter of a century have primarily been targeted at the producers of beer. This one, however, has been penned largely with the customer in mind, although I hope that wont stop those employed by brewing companies from reading it, because they sure need to know what I am preaching to the customer. Customers are becoming more knowledgeable and, therefore, more choosy and, yes, demanding. Its a good thing, provided that they speak from a position of genuine understanding. I hope that this volume will help.

There was no master plan. My journey into and through the brewing industry was a case of It seemed the best thing to do at the time, although I am grateful to a good many people for nudging me (gently or sometimes with more vigor) into the next step.

It started near Wigan in Lancashire, England, when my elder brother (by 18 months) John was my first chemistry teacher. I understood things like valence, balancing equations, and the symbols for the elements at the age of nine or 10. We had a rather well set-up laboratory at home and would have chemicals delivered by the Gallenkamp company, just one of their stops on the rounds that took them to colleges, schools, and hospitals. It was also John who put pressure on me when, at the age of 15, I had to decide the subjects for my advanced-level studies at Up Holland Grammar School. Students had to take three A-level courses, and, on the basis of my lackluster O-level performance in eight subjects, it was a moot point whether I was best suited to the arts or the sciences. My heart told me English, geography, history. My brother told me (and my teacher mother) chemistry, biology, physics. (Mathematics was agreed to be the one no-no.) You will stand to more readily find a career with those sciences than with the arty topics, John insisted.

Things started well enough in the A levels, but things started to decline as I was distracted by other things, mostly of a sporting variety but also the joys of the local hostelries, frequented on Friday evenings from an age rather less than the legal 18. No more than a couple of pints, of course. In truth, though, I was not the best of students, mostly my own fault but not helped by teachers such as Mrs. Brown, whose initial words to me when I came first into her Biology class were, I dont know what you are doing here, Bamforth. (Years later, when I was elected a fellow of the Royal Institute of Biology, I was tempted to try to find her.) Luckily, though, there was another, rather kinder teacher and the head of Biology, Spike Jones. And it was his teaching in the limited coverage of matters biochemical that I found the most fascinating component of all my A-level studies.

Somehow I got half decent grades in my examinations and succeeded in gaining entry to my first choice establishment, the University of Hull, to read biochemistry. It was at this point that I really buckled down to my studies, devouring the subject matter. I also discovered that Hull is a beer drinkers paradise, and Friday and Saturday evenings saw me very much enjoying a plethora of public houses.

Having gained a good-class BSc, I stayed in Hull to do my PhD with the lovely Peter Large, a super scientist and beer bon viveur. It was in this period from 1973 to 1976 that I established my love affair with enzymology and also the fascination for research.

Thence to a postdoctoral fellowship at the University of Sheffield with the brilliant Rod Quayle, FRS. The first year saw me delving ever deeper into the enzymes of a certain type of bacteria, work that carried on in the second year, but in that latter period I spent considerable time scrutinizing the back pages of magazines like Nature and the New Scientist in search of job openings. The first to catch my eye was one for an enzymologist at the Brewing Research Foundation (BRF). My, my: capturing two of my four loves, beer and enzymes, in one fell swoop (the other two loves, of course, being my new wife and Wolverhampton Wanderers Football Club).

BRF (see ) was a remarkable organization, funded by a research tax on UK beer that went to pay for a battery of excellent scientists with diverse specializations to do fundamental pre-competitive work on beer and brewing to the advantage of all. Things went wellalthough I hadnt been at Nutfield terribly long before I questioned whether my scientific abilities were being properly used: should I not be in a medical field, trying to unravel the mysteries of disease? When I told Acting Director John Hudson of my doubts, he looked at me plainly and asked me whether people enjoyed beer. I replied that they did. So you dont believe that it is a noble calling to do research to ensure that they contribute to gain happiness? I had no reply. So b***er off, and get on with it. I have strived to do that ever since.