Beer festivals - the US way
For someone who just about earns a living penning beer-related tat for drinks magazines and newspapers, the Great British Beer Festival (GBBF) is a crucial date in the diary.
It's a good event for anyone with even the most passing interest in beer. Firstly, there's lots of it, all under one big roof enabling you to embark on a whistle-stop tour of the UK's finest and lesser-known brews without the hassle of maladroit maps or tedious train timetables that bear absolutely no resemblance to reality.
There's the Bieres Sans Frontieres stand showcasing talent from overseas, there's food, there's music, there are pub games, there are tutored tastings and, unless you're a tee-totalling misanthrope with an attitude problem, there's no excuse not to have a perfectly good day out.
But it could be a lot better. The GBBF appeals hugely to ale aficionados and meets their no-nonsense drinking needs perfectly but as a showcase for British beer, it struggles to flick the switches of the un-enlightened.
That I struggle to persuade my friends to come along to the GBBF speaks volumes, for example. As a demographic, they represent the Holy Grail for real ale. They're all in their late-twenties or thirty-somethings with various levels of disposable income (but certainly enough for a pint or two); they have a varying interest in the finer things in life; they all drink and may elbow-bend with ale now and again but not always; they're broad-minded and open to new experiences; and they're exactly the kind of people that the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA) should be welcoming through the doors at Earls Court.
But I doubt few, if any, could give a flying fuggles about the Great British Beer Festival and I'll be astonished if any will be going along to sample all the fun and flavours of the new and improved fair this year.
A quick vox-pop among my peers revealed that this disappointing apathy could be attributed to a number of factors. The first, predictably, was an image issue. Sandals, beards and bellies may be, to a degree, clichéd nonsense but like all clichés, there's more than a little truth to it. Like it or not, cask ale still has more baggage than a Heathrow carousel in the minds of many.
Then there's the venue. A move away from the sweaty methane-filled greenhouse that was Olympia has been long overdue but in terms of attracting new people along, the switch to Earls Court is akin to shuffling deckchairs around the Titanic. Exhibition halls at the height of summer may be cheap but there's a jolly good reason for that. Namely, if the temperatures are high, they're about as alluring as a weekend in Guantanemo Bay.
Placing an event in the precarious palms of British summertime may well be a risk and is sure to provide some challenging beer quality issues, but why not take the Great British Beer Festival outdoors? After all, that's exactly what the Belgians do and it works jolly well. Every September, the ostentatious backdrop of the aptly-named Grand Place in Brussels provides an inspirational setting for Belgium's annual celebration of its diverse beer scene. Surely, a similarly al-fresco grand place could be found in London? Some decent home-grown tucker from the UK's burgeoning local produce scene and a few music bands that people have heard of wouldn't do any harm either.
Of course, all these grand plans would come at a price - both logistically and financially. A price, no doubt, that would be well beyond the relatively modest coffers of CAMRA. But fear not, because there's a cunning solution at hand.
Before I proceed though; a word of warning. The more conventional drinkers out there may like to look away now as this particular solution involves (sharp intake of breath) lager! Yes, lager. Not just any lager but big brand and bland lager; the "L" word in its most dastardly yellow, fizzy and heavily-hyped guise!
CAMRA members would sooner stick their heads in a blender than break bread with the big brewers but perhaps they should heed the wise and rather menacing words of Michael Corleone in Godfather III: "Never hate your enemies as it clouds your thinking".
While the colour, or taste, of the big brewers' beer may not be particularly edifying there's no denying the attractive hue of their money. Take the Great American Beer Festival (GABF) as a case in point. At Denver every year, lager is not a naughty word and the triumvirate of US brewing - Anheuser-Busch, Miller and Coors - are welcomed with open arms.
Some would say it's because they make fantastic beer. Cynics, however, would argue that the cash they pay for their all-singing, all-dancing stands subsidises the attendance of the smaller players from America's thriving microbrewery scene.
"Our philosophy is that the GABF is a celebration of American beer culture and the big brewers are part of that," says Charles Papazian, president of the Brewers Association. "There are a lot of people who drink craft beers that also drink Bud Light."
Purists may not like it but it's a fact of beer-drinking life here too. As such, a similarly pragmatic approach should be adopted. It must be remembered that, beyond the inner circle of beer geeks, the lager vs. ale debate is not a relevant one. The GBBF and the beer industry as a whole can ill-afford to bear such petty grudges with so many other events and attractions tugging at the purse-strings of the average consumer.
Were the likes of Coors, InBev and Scottish & Newcastle to throw their substantial marketing weight behind the GBBF then, let's be honest, there'd be a lot more punters coming through the door. After all, if you can successfully pass off beer served at a colder temperature as "innovation" then heaven knows what marketing magic can be worked with the GBBF.
Fears that lager would attract the wrong kind of drinker would be dispelled if the GBBF copied the GABF and used, if legally allowed, single one-ounce measures. It not only renders excessive boozing unfeasible but also encourages visitors to savour and experiment - in Denver each server wears a T-shirt adorned with the message "Less is more we won't over pour! Savour the flavour responsibly".
The big lager brands will, like a Trojan horse, usher in potential new drinkers into the GBBF where, once they're safely inside the doors, they'll be free to discover the joys of "real" beer. After all, what better way to uncover the flavoursome charms of, say, Crouch Vale Brewers Gold than to pit it against, say, against Carling Extra Cold in a head-to-head taste test?
If the GBBF is going to be the showcase of all that is great about British beer then, like the GABF, it should be an unadulterated, forward-looking, agenda-free celebration of brewing in all its guises where even sub-zero lager should be welcome.
