In Session... with Ben McFarland
Beer sales are supposed to be solar powered. Aside from England winning the World Cup (it seems laughable now doesn't it?), there's nothing that the brewers or trade would have wished for more this summer than a sweltering heatwave.
When the sun puts his hat on and comes out to play, the beer sales' strip-graph jolts sharply upwards and licensees up and down the land rejoice to the sound of ringing tills.
But things go awry when the mercury climbs above a certain level. You would be forgiven for assuming that beer-drinking would flourish amid all this record-breaking swelter, sweat and sizzle, but speak to certain brewers and you'll discover the reality is a little different.
"It's too hot to sell beer," harrumphed a leading regional brewer to me this week. "Even though it's a fallacy, people assume cask ale is warm. They tend not to consider it as something that refreshes or quenches thirst."
So, as the big brewers make hay while the sun shines courtesy of their super-duper chilled and frozen ice lolly-style lagers, cask ale withers in the heat.
The decision by some regional brewers - such as Fuller's and Everards - to add some chill to their beers is a grand idea, but there's a simpler solution as far as I can tell. It's a cunning yet stunningly straightforward plan involving a bottle and a fridge.
Yes, chilled British bottled beers. As ideas go, it's unlikely to rival that of sliced bread or the wheel, but it's a new one as far as pubs are concerned. Pub chillers are teeming with taste-a-like lagers from abroad and maybe the odd speciality beer, but British talent tends to be conspicuous by its absence.
It's an odd oversight, especially in the summer when the prospect of a chilled, flavoursome bottled beauty being poured into a chilled glass is an extremely mouth-watering one.
According to the marketing mantra of the big brewers, cold beer is what the consumer yearns for more than anything else. What's more, they want quality and reassurance, they want choice and, increasingly, they want locally-sourced produce. British bottled beer served cool and fresh from the fridge and served properly delivers all this and more.
One shouldn't feel guilt-ridden about abandoning cask. Improving one's British bottled selection shouldn't be at the expense of draught. In fact, if anything it should improve it.
In an attempt to address the all-important quality issue, the "Why Handpull?" initiative recently urged pubs to reduce the number of cask beers on the bar. Real ale in a bottle may not be the real thing, but it's certainly the next best thing.
Any commercial concerns should be banished by a quick glance at what's going down, or for that matter what's going up, in the supermarkets where sales of packaged British beers are riding higher than Pete Doherty on a penny-farthing.
To make the proposition even more economically viable, why not stretch the margins a little? After all, why shouldn't people pay more for such a great drink? Pubs tend to charge like the light brigade for Belgian beers so why can't licensees show the same level of chutzpah when setting the asking price for British equivalents?
On a hot summer's day and as long as it's served with a bit of theatre, I'd sooner pay £3.95 for a flavoursome and fresh golden ale than, say, a glass of Pimm's or a house rosé. Of course, I'm not everyone, but why not at least chalk up the choice on a blackboard or a drinks menu?
Ben was awarded the title of Beer Writer of the Year for 2004 by the British Guild of Beer Writers.
