Brewaucracy

Hamilton lore (such as it is) claims that the old Loaded Hog building on Hood Street used to be a “house of ill repute”, where the ladies of the night plied their trade. Wags often point out that in Hamilton, they must have starved for want of clients given the often maligned sexual proclivities of farmers, and the fact that animals do not generally charge (except Bulls. Oh stop. I kill me). I shall leave such scurrilous accusations to others though, as now Hamilton can hold its head up and say that it has joined the Craft Beer Revolution with the opening in that very same building of House.

House, the brainchild of the prolific bar running team known as the Phoenix Group, is on a mission to show that if Wellington can have the amazing Malthouse, Christchurch can have Pomeroys, and even Aucklanders can be lured away from their carefully branded and oh-so-casually-displayed green bottles, then Hamiltonians must be up for a few decent beers. We are, after all, the City of the Future.

Having been involved in helping out with some of the craft beer selection and general beery advice, I was fortunate enough to be invited to the VIP opening last Friday (19/3/2010). What an opening it was. We were greeted at the gate with a glass of the House ale – Mighty Golden Ale, a 4% quaffer brewed by Paul Croucher especially for the bar. It’s a great drop, very accessible for those with no previous exposure to craft beer, but with more than enough zesty tropical flavour to keep the most demanding of craft beer lovers happy.

Stepping inside, and approaching the bar feels like happiness distilled. A glance along the beautiful chrome taps, labelled with an ingenious divided chalkboard system, reveals an excellent selection of some of the best beers NZ has to offer. At the time of opening, there is: Invercargill Pitch Black, Emerson’s Pilsner, Emerson’s Bookbinder, Epic Pale Ale, Croucher Hef, Croucher Pale Ale, and Mighty Golden Ale. This lineup will change and settle over time, and there are some mainstream beers nestled amongst them to placate the less adventurous. Next up should be the ever flavoursome Three Boys IPA, and hopefully something tasty from Tuatara in the near future.

The fridge is well stocked also, with offerings from Wanaka, Renaissance, Emerson’s, Mussel Inn, Invercargill, and Epic with more to follow.

On to the place itself. It’s called House and it really does feel like home. From the white picket fence out the front to the family photos on the wall, the 70′s Kiwi Family Home theme is done really well. All the little touches never seem cheesy, but often elicit an “awwww” of reminiscence or even a chuckle of sheer delight at old familiar carpet patterns, or the upholstery on some of the comfy chairs. Set against this retro backdrop are touches of the sleek and modern – the aforementioned bar fonts, a beautiful fresh hop display on the rear wall, and pint glasses filled with aromatic NZ hops adorning the tables.

The staff are a delight as well. I hosted a bit of a beer education presentation for them on the Tuesday before they opened. I was met with a sea of keen though slightly nervous looking faces. They quickly warmed up to the subject though (as often happens when beer is involved) and began to show some serious interest. They were soon picking flavours and aromas like pros, and asked some very intelligent questions. At the opening, they’d clearly absorbed the passion for craft beer and were talking about beer and food matches with the various patrons like seasoned gourmets. They are also the friendliest bunch you’ll ever find, greeting people by name, and chatting pleasantly while they pour your pint.

A note on the pints though… even though pint glasses are provided (and look great branded with the clever “picket fence” House logo), don’t expect a complete fill. The price points have been worked out based on a 500ml measure, which can make your glass look a little like the tide has gone out, even with a generous head on the pour. This shouldn’t be a problem if the customers are aware of it from the beginning, but I can see it already causing some issues, with some punters asking for a top up. The owners are aware of the issue, and will solve it in their usual creative fashion, I’m sure!

So there you go. Not a hooker or a hog in sight, just the best damn House that House can be. I’ll see you there for a pint.

“I don’t get this campaign. Are we really that interested in beer classification?” — Phil Parkin on CAMRA’s Mild Month (via Twitter).

Before people think I have my own little Phil-worship cult going on here, I’d like to point out that while yes, the last post was entirely dedicated to his film, this one was merely triggered by something he said on twitter which tweaked my cerebellum. He doesn’t pay me, I swear! Plus, I doubt both the readers of this blog will be much of a market for him.

Right, so, grovelling excuses out of the way, what was so intriguing about that quote? I’ll start with it’s subject. I’ve been a CAMRA member for quite a while. I have the utmost respect for what CAMRA have achieved. I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited England a couple of times, and have really enjoyed CAMRA’s presence in pubs, and in absolutely magic beer festivals such as the amazing one Alex and I attended in Margate, Kent. That said, I’ve declined to renew this year. I sense a serious lack of focus and direction within CAMRA, and I get tired of their solution to every regulation-induced problem to be “ask the Government to create yet more regulation”. One campaign I’ve always supported though is May being Mild Month.

I am a huge Mild fan. On my first visit to England, I had some excellent Milds. Elgood’s Black Dog was the first taste (in Cambridge, of course) and after that, I tried them wherever I saw them. I’ve even brewed a few. My favourite was similar to Banks’ Original, and took out a Best In Class at the SOBA National Homebrew Competition a couple of years back. I was surprised, as the sample I’d retained hadn’t lasted very well… but it was a cracker when fresh. That’s another story though…

Britain has always been a nation of classifications. Standardisation abounds, and yet, there is delightful (and less delightful) non-conformity hiding in corners, and in plain sight. In a small pub in Chester, I overheard a punter complaining “that’s never a pint” to the landlady. His not-quite-a-pint was Greene King IPA. I didn’t hear him say “that’s never an IPA”.If CAMRA launched IPAs for April, do you think they’d be celebrating Greene King’s effort? Mild is even more variable than IPA. You have Sarah Hughes Dark Ruby, which is often cited as an example of a historical “strong mild”, but most classification-loving English wouldn’t think it was one. Styles change and shift for so many reasons – economic, geographic, horticultural, as well as the most fickle driver of all – people’s tastes.

And there’s the rub, and the part that suddenly changed my mind on an issue I’ve always been fairly sure of.

Why do we need to “save and preserve” milds if people aren’t that into them? We have a good record of them. We can judge a beer entered into a competition as one. We know exactly what a mild is. Not only that, but the more a beer threatens to fall out of style, the more “the fringe” will always want to brew it, sometimes out of a desire to preserve, but often out of a desire to be different. When a beer style ceases to be brewed, it doesn’t cease to exist. It’s just stored, waiting for someone to resurrect it again in the future.

As homebrewing has grown and flourished recently, moving from that vile stuff that grandad made in the bath to excellent beer which rivals and often surpasses the best of the commercial best, everyone now is a brewer or knows a brewer. If you really want a mild, and you can’t get one down your local, you can always make one or bribe a mate to make one for you. If there are enough of you wanting this, it’s in your local’s interest to provide one, and it’s in their interest to nudge the brewers.

So should the consumer care if the lovely dark beer, with a stunning array of interesting malt flavours, and just enough bitterness to prevent cloying sweetness is technically a mild or not? Should the brewer be made to feel bad if that same beer he has brewed is technically outside the style guidelines? Should CAMRA be flogging this horse quite so hard, when it could actually be limiting creativity, and thus choice, rather than enhancing it? I’m not sure. I’m also not sure it’s a huge issue, but as I said at the beginning, it certainly got me thinking.

Having said all that, I’m well overdue to brew my mild again. It is a lovely drop.

Cheers!