Bitter better than other beer
In the early 1970s, when I first started drinking beer in English pubs, most offered a range of draught ales that included at least one hand-pulled bitter and occasionally a mild ale.
Generally speaking, the bitters of the time varied in colour from straw to chestnut, while mild ales extended to ruby or mahogany. If a pub’s beer range was sourced from just one brewery, the bitter was usually paler, more expensive, and a shade stronger than the mild. But it was taste that most clearly separated the two styles: bitter was drier, mild sweeter.
The development of bitter as a style was made possible by the distillation of coke from coal in the late 17th century. Coal was useless as a source of heat for malting – its gases poisoned the grain – but coke offered a more consistent, controllable, and less smoky alternative to the wood or straw previously used. Coke also allowed maltsters to kiln new, paler malts, which contained a higher proportion of fermentable sugars than the old charred, roasted grains, which enabled brewers to produce much paler, clearer beers.
The new malts were first used in the 18th century to brew strong, heavily-hopped, October beers, which matured for a year or more. These beers were expensive and generally enjoyed only by the wealthy, until the discovery that they could withstand the rigours of a long ocean voyage opened up a new market for them in India. BEER
By the 1840s toned-down versions of the strong, robustly hopped India Pale Ales were being brewed for the domestic market, but a name for the new style did not immediately follow. It seems the drinkers themselves coined the term ‘‘bitter’’ to differentiate these new, well-hopped pale ales from the darker, sweeter, and generally less hoppy mild ales (which, until then, had been almost the only alternative to porter and stout).
Pale bitter ales remained a minority taste for more than a century, mostly because they were more expensive. Even as late as 1949, bitter remained, ‘‘the staple draught drink in the Saloon Bar’’, but was not much ordered by blue collar workers in the public bar.
However, by the 1950s, bitter was gaining traction, precisely because of its image as the choice of the middle class. A commentator in 1958 wrote: ‘‘Traditionally bitter is looked on as the bosses’ drink. Any man reckons today he’s as good as his boss. So he chooses bitter’’. By 1965, bitter had overtaken mild to become the country’s dominant beer style.
Ten years later, bitter peaked at just over 60 per cent of draught beer sales. Unfortunately, and despite its negligible presence in the market, the big guns of the brewing world had decided that lager was the beer of the future; and a hugely disproportionate amount of marketing muscle was devoted to promoting their brands. Since 1995, draught bitters have been outsold in England by golden lager beers.
As Britain’s largest brewing companies increasingly turned their backs on traditional English bitters – and in some cases on brewing altogether – smaller, regional, brewers have stepped up production, and since been joined by a new wave of enthusiastic craft brewers. These days there’s certainly less traditional ale being sold overall, but the quality and range of beers available is better than ever.
In this part of the world the term bitter once referred to a true, top-fermenting ale, but in recent times it has usually described a bronze coloured lager with an ostensibly bitter palate. Aside from genuine English imports, which often suffer from a lack of freshness, this country’s most authentic bitters are those brewed onsite at Galbraith’s Alehouse in Auckland, and by two Christchurch brewers, Cassels & Sons and The Twisted Hop.
At about 4 per cent alcohol, for me, a pint or two of well-kept, hand-pulled bitter is a delight that’s unrivalled in the world of beer. Cheers!