Drink
"Ah," sighs my latest love with sweet-faced innocence. "How great is this? The first lager day of the year." Would that I could be so sentimental about the bitter/lager equinox which apparently occurs on the first fully sunny spring day. Could this be because, according to my latest love, "the first lager day of the year is like a beautiful babe in a tight mini-dress" and, strangely, the first lager day of the year coincides with the first sighting of a bare-legged girl?
But no sooner has he done with lauding the return of lager than he is fondly explaining that the main point about it is that wherever you buy it, in Newcastle, Derby, Liverpool or Manchester, as long as it's well chilled, it always tastes the same. It is worth noting that all the cities he lists are locations of Premier League club grounds, and that his sweeping statement is somewhat inconsistent with his stubborn refusal ever to drink Becks. But I let that pass. My concern is to prove that lager is more than fuel for football hooligans.
I have a tough time. At an unsavoury pub near Upton Park in the East End, where we are preparing for the rigours of Leeds' critical away match against West Ham, it's fair to say that the only way to describe what we're drinking is that it's cool, wet and lagerish. What's more, given that my blagged ticket places me alone among the fierce hordes of Hammers supporters in the Bobby Moore Stand, behind the goal, I welcome the bland Dutch courage.
There are some pretty scary West Ham specimens in the crowd. Fortunately, the one sitting next to me, with bulging eyeballs and a livid scar on his chin, seems gentler than most. Though for my own safety I pretend to share his vitriol for Leeds, he is kind enough to explain to me that Leeds are only 2-0 up at half-time because the referee is enjoying a sexual relationship with one of his own close blood relations.
The lager inside me smiles, though I can find no memory of its taste. Some days later, in pursuit of lager with flavour, I drag my latest love away from the relentless coverage of the last weeks of the football season to an infinitely more sophisticated venue in Covent Garden. The Freedom Brewing Company, which has been making fresh beer in south-west London for several years now, has at last opened its own bar called, appropriately, Freedom.
They have lofty aspirations. They want to educate the beer-swilling Brits into sensual submission and their weapon is simple: the microbrewery. Freshly made beer is, they say, much tastier so they brew on-site and even my latest love has to admit that the results are pretty spectacular. We order the selection of tasters - five little glasses of beer for £1.50. They look very pretty, all different hues of brown from gold to mahogany. My latest love behaves like a little boy in a chocolate shop. Instead of attempting some serious, ordered tasting, he falls first upon one glass then another, taking sips here and there, moving from one beer to the next with the sort of swiftness and passion usually exhibited by a concert pianist.
Success. He pronounces the Freedom Pilsener very good, the Pale "quite refreshing, like drinking a really light bitter", says that the Soho Red reminds him of the wonderful beer in Boston, Massachusetts, and enjoys the special of the day although it's very strong. Best of all, they don't taste like other beers, and even the lager-style taster is fresh and different. What's more, you can actually tell what they're made from, because they have a lovely rich, cereally flavour. The only thing is, these beers and lagers are too nice to save just for the summer. My latest love might have to rethink his calendar.
Mea culpa. Sometimes drinks correspondents can have one too many. In a recent column which appeared in a special NS for the Guardian, I left the word "and" out of a sentence, thereby creating the impression that I thought Sancerre and Muscadet were chardonnays. They are not, and I have been in a state of mortification ever since.
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
