Award-winning beer blogger @markdredge visits the Budvar Brewery
The Czech Republic has an odd charm. The square blocks of Communism sit next to elaborate pastel-coloured 19th-century houses while Western culture bursts brightly from between the gaps in a scattered mix of the traditional and modern. The Budweiser Budvar brewery in Ceské Budûjovice is a fascinating blend of new and old.
The modern blue-glass-fronted home greets us like a bulky modern movie star in reflective sunglasses as we arrive. Inside is like the entrance to a mega-corporation (complete with a map of world domination) which feels very American and stripped of the brewery's tradition. The only hint of the old is the six clocks pointing to different times in world cities, except none of them work.
The tour begins from here and it's an innovative and interactive walk-through starting with a film in an old copper tank via a 300m simulated drop in an elevator to the water source and ending with a 3D movie dramatising the story of AB InBev versus Budweiser Budvar. It's a Bond-style Hollywood pastiche explaining that the original can't be beaten. The tour tells the storied history and the traditions with bright colours, props and films and it's an engaging, playful and informative introduction to the brewery... but I didn't go to just see props and movies, I went to see mash tuns and cellars.
Adam Broz, the 10th brewmaster in Budvar's 115-year history, joins us and shows us around the brewery. Starting with the water well, we then move to the handsome brewhouse, a bright, warm chamber of copper tanks with a sweet-smelling air and a whirl of brewing. He explains how they only use Moravian malt and whole flower semi-early red varietal saaz hops. The 100-day brewing cycle is a long-held tradition which means the beer is conditioned in the cellars much longer than many of its competitors (90 days compared with 25-35).
The cellars come next: vast, cold and formidable. There are two parts, neatly named 'new' and 'old'. The new cellars, which came in 1990 as part of the brewery's expansion, are the abiding memory of my visit; a haunting, awesome experience. Imagine 20m gunmetal grey tanks lined tightly in a huge room with an intense ear-piercing horror-movie scream playing in the dark at 0°C... it's literally chilling. Back into the cool calm of the old cellars we're served unfiltered Budvar straight from the conditioning tank and it's a unique drinking experience - smooth, a little sweetness to begin and a bold saaz hop finish. Delicious.
After a walk through the football pitch-sized packaging hall, where empty bottles go in one end and crates of beer leave the other in a constant flow of green, red and gold, we're led to the restaurant where mugs of Budvar arrive at our table, and we've followed the process from water well to beer glass. Here they serve the full range of Budvar beers including the unfiltered Original, a 4.4 per cent pale beer and Budvar Dark, a rich and roasty dark lager.
The brewery is a great experience, combining an interactive theme park ride with beer in a museum, boldly mixing tradition and modernity in a fun and informative way. Budvar does things its own way (albeit with a Westernised concession to the tourist) and as the moral of the 3D movie says, the Czech original is the best and impostors better believe it.
Why Beer Matters: Mark's winning entry
Our distant ancestors, the cave men and women, had the campfire. They would gather there, they lived around it and socialised around it, they learnt their life skills in its glowing, flickering flame. It was the centre of the community, the source of warmth, the source of heat to cook, the place where stories were told and learning happened.
We don't have campfires, we have the pub. Ordering the first pint is a ritual ceremony and with that beer in your hand you are now a part of the adult world.
Those early years are fraught. There's ID checks, your mates having too many, the knock-back from the girl, the running out of money when you want another drink, learning about life, talking to people, being a shoulder to cry on or a voice of reason, acting stupid, spilled drinks, loose lips and broken hearts.
But there's more than that. There's the laughter, the fun, the growing up, the being with friends. I can picture the pub we drank in: dark and dingy, a loud rock club-pub, always smelly, always crowded, always smoky, always hot, always surrounded by friends. It was my campfire.
Mark Dredge is British Guild of Beer Writers New Media Writer of the Year 2009
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