Which is the best beer? What do you think of the beer in this city/state/country? Where in the world are the best beers? How do ours compare?” These questions haunt my dreams, and I wake up answering them on breakfast television, in Tokyo, Toronto or heaven knows where.
Where would you find Czechs, Germans, Belgians, and British and Irish? In the United States, I would suggest.
The best beer countries? The Czech Republic for the original pilsner, not quite what it was, but still a great beer. And for Czechvar, from the town of Budweis, if you prefer slightly maltier lagers. Germany for 1,200 breweries, the Purity Law, styles ranging from altbier to zwickelbier. Belgium for the most idiosyncratic, individualistic indigenous styles, beautifully served. Britain for ales. Ireland for stouts.
“So Europe is the best,” says the interviewer. This is the tough part. There is no such place as Europe. Cultures may overlap in some neighboring nations, but they remain separate countries.
I love the taverns in the Czech Republic, but many sell only one beer. Few stretch to more than one golden lager and one dark. I love drinking a fresh golden lager, full of malt and hop flavors, in an atmospheric Prague café, but I don’t go to the Czech Republic for great variety. In Prague, I have never seen an altbier or zwickelbier from Germany or anywhere else. There may be a bottle of this or that somewhere, in a bar for German tourists, but I have never spotted it.
In Germany, most taverns or beer gardens are either owned or exclusively supplied by one brewery. Some German breweries make only one beer. Nor does it necessarily help if, like Paulaner, they make a dozen or 20. Time and again in Germany, I am in an establishment owned by a brewer that makes one of my favorite beers, ask for it and am met by a blank look. This particular tavern does not sell that particular beer and has no interest in discussing the question.
When I finally find a tavern serving my favorite beer from a respected brewery, I discover that it has been dumbed down; or I don’t find it, because the product has been discontinued. There are, of course, some wonderful taverns offering uncompromisingly flavorsome beers, but don’t expect a great deal of variety under one roof.
In Belgium, most cafés carry a range of styles but are constrained by their contract with one of the big two national brewers. Most major cities have at least one good specialty beer bar. The beers will be predominantly Belgian, but that is fine by me.
In Britain, I might find the odd Czech or German beer, and certainly some Belgians, though more often in supermarkets than in pubs. The only Belgian at all widely available in pubs is Hoegaarden. Pubs with a more diverse selection, like the White Horse in Parson’s Green, London, are so unusual as to be celebrated.
Although I am British, I am not home that much. When I am, I find a good cask-conditioned bitter in a proper British pub a very special pleasure, and I’ll usually be more than happy to settle for that. If I feel like a local beer from Ireland, the London branch of the Porterhouse is the only option.
Ireland has three major brewers and a grand total of ten brewpubs or micros. In fairness, there are only 4.5 million people, both sides of the border. I have spent many an evening enjoying Guinness in Dublin or visiting the original Porterhouse, but there are few other choices, and the young seem to drink almost exclusively Budweiser.
