Abandoning all hope for ale

If you read in the city pages of your newspaper that the president of Heinz had declared he was handing over production of baked beans to Crosse & Blackwell, you might think he was bonkers. A similar response would greet a statement from the boss of Nescafé that he was leaving Maxwell House free to control the instant coffee market.

Yet consider this remarkable quote by Stuart MacFarlane, president of AB InBev: "Our focus is on Budweiser, Beck's and Stella. I'm happy to say to regional brewers, 'you take control of the cask-ale business — you do it better'." I'm not making it up. It appeared in this paper, so it must be true.

At the last count, the cask-ale sector of the brewing industry was worth some £1.4bn a year in sales. As it's the only growth sector of the market, that figure may have increased.

And yet Mr MacFarlane isn't interested. Can there be any rational explanation for a major brewing company turning its back on a profitable and growing sector? This is the same Stuart MacFarlane who has put up for sale Boddingtons, Draught Bass and Flowers cask beers.

At present, I'm wading through proofs for the next Good Beer Guide, noting that Draught Bass has become more widely available again after years in the doldrums. Marston's, which brews the beer for AB InBev, has used its skills as a brewer in Burton-on-Trent to return Draught Bass to its former glory.

Last week I was visiting Shrewsbury and dropped in to the historic Loggerheads pub. On the bar was a pump clip with the famous red triangle logo. "Hello, old friend," I said and ordered a pint of Bass. It was in fine nick, with that famous "Burton snatch" on the aroma from the salty, sulphury water of the Trent Valley, and juicy malt, tart fruit and spicy hops on the palate and finish.

If I were Mr MacFarlane, I would be proud to own such a famous and respected brand. Knowing its history and the fact that it once accounted for two million barrels a year, I would make every effort to restore it to its rightful place on the bar and get sales growing again.

But Mr MacFarlane isn't interested. He's not alone. Heineken UK closed its major ale brewery in Gateshead, sending Newcastle Brown off to John Smith's in Tadcaster. When I last checked, Tadcaster was in Yorkshire, just the place to brew a revered Geordie beer. Heineken also closed the Reading brewery, one of much-travelled Courage beers' many homes. Heineken's predecessor, Scottish & Newcastle, sold off the Courage beers because volumes were too small for it to bother with. Now brewed by Wells & Young's, Courage Best is the company's biggest ale brand.

Excuse me for a moment while I scratch my head...

Carlsberg has shown its true priorities by announcing that, when it closes the Tetley brewery in Leeds, the keg version of Tetley Bitter will transfer to John Smith's while cask will move to Banks's in Wolverhampton, in the West Midlands. Get ready for Yorkshire folk demanding home rule and a sign above John Smith's door: "Abandon hope all ales that enter here."

Molson Coors​

We mustn't leave Molson Coors out of the equation. Alone among the global brewers at work in Britain, the company has made a small effort to ignite its ale sales. It has been promising for two years now to launch a new premium cask ale called Red Shield, with a name that cashes in on the fame and popularity of the bottled Worthington White Shield. But the beer never appears. When I ask Molson Coors about a launch, I'm told it will be in the spring... summer... the autumn.

What's the problem, chaps? You know how to brew beer. It's a simple process. You may be an American-Canadian group, but you have people on the pay roll in Burton who've brewed a bit of cask in their time and could tell you how it's done.

Or perhaps it will never appear. Molson Coors is rumoured to be in the running to buy Draught Bass from AB InBev and if the group succeeds it wouldn't want an almost identical beer such as Red Shield.

When you survey the giant brewer's antics, you might consider they don't know their rear end from their arm joint. Many years ago, when I first drank Stella Artois in Leuven, Belgium, I considered it a fine interpretation of a Pilsner-style lager. Now I wouldn't cross the road to drink it. Instead of turning up his nose at cask beer, Stuart MacFarlane might care to tell us how Interbrew/InBev/AB InBev has allowed a good beer to wither on the hop bine. Simple: the group has put the pursuit of volumes and profit above quality.

Molson Coors recently complained it was making just a penny a pint profit on Carling. The other global giants face the same problem as they bow before the Great God Supermarket. Years ago, big brewers turned their backs on cask ales because, they said, they were low-profit beers compared to lager and keg.

Now cask is making tills ring. Before it's too late, before one of the globals crashes or stops brewing, they might spot their error and start to brew the beer that increasing numbers of pub-goers want to drink.