This Month’s Thoughts, In Brief

Bad Language
Back in 1972, the oddly named Campaign for the Revitalisation of Ale decided it preferred the word “real” to describe its preferred forms of ale. To this day, UK media still use the word “real” to distinguish the authentic and elite from the mass produced and fake.

A few years later, the Belgians chose the word “artisanaal” to designate the difference between beers from small, local breweries and those built to the design and scale of petro-chemical plants. In North America, this translates roughly as “craft.”

However, we have a problem. In some circles in Britain, the term “craft beer” is coming to mean “pointless American lager with added hop oil, vodka and/or caramel.” The implication is that we’re afraid you are all going to come over here and steal our market/culture/women or whatever. Which you are, of course—just not yet.

So if any of you are planning to come over to London’s Great British Beer Festival this August, could you please practice the phrase: “We really love your British real ale craft beers—they are just so revitalising.”

Nuclear Madness
I used to be a hospital director, so I know the importance of exploiting universal fear of pain and death to market the caring professions. Which was why I was not surprised to hear that the London tasting of Japanese craft beers [sic] was canceled when Customs officials at Heathrow Airport weren’t satisfied that the beers were free from radioactivity.

As of yet, no intention has been announced to check brews from famous regional breweries just upstream from England’s costal nuclear plants or those brewed with water that has hung around high-emission granite deposits for a few years. But I live in hope. I, for one, would sleep more soundly if… no, it’s just neurotic bollocks.

Dear Friend, Can You Help
Is there a kind US importer over there who feels like helping out an old friend? Embarrassingly, we Brits have managed to mislay, or more accurately, disregard into oblivion, a few iconic beers.

First, we have the original Russian Imperial Stout, first brewed by Barclay’s, then Courage and now, if they chose, Heineken. Then there is Thomas Hardy’s Ale, best kept in the cellar for 10 years before drinking. Finally comes Gale’s Prize Old Ale, still occasionally produced by Fuller’s but nowadays conditioned in steel tanks rather than oak tuns. We need a country with a few connoisseurs.

The sad part is that these three are the only strong bottle-conditioned ales to have survived the inglorious 20th century over here, and, like the distinguished war hero who dies following a bite from his pet dog, their premature deaths are somehow offensive. ■