It’s hard to find craft beer in Japan – Japanese craft beer, that is. There are a few pub chains here: The Hub (an English-type pub chain which sells its own branded horrid stuff); Kirin City (which sells a few of the Kirin brews, hence the name); Hobgoblin (yes, allied to Wychwood Brewery)… but none of them sell any craft beer from Japan. I asked, at the Hobgoblin in Shibuya, for a Japanese beer and got… Sapporo. Great.

So it was a splendid surprise to do what I should have done all along, and googled where I might find decent beer in Japan; and discovered that there was somewhere quite close to my hotel in Shinjunku that sold a craft beer from Japan.

That somewhere was the Brooklyn Parlor, which sold rather excellent food (yum, blue cheese burger); and two beers – one, Brooklyn Lager from NYC (though it’s apparently supposed to be brewed here under licence now); and the other a proper Japanese beer.

Hitachino Nest White Ale really is this colour; it’s a citrussy, splendidly spicy beer – which didn’t taste as sweet as Hoegaarden or similar wheat beers. I was rather a fan of it; wheat beers tend to give me a shining headache pretty quickly, but this didn’t at all.

At ¥900 (£6.40) for 450ml, that’s a slightly shocking £7.81 per pint; but I am in Tokyo, and it was something rather special. It beats Copenhagen’s prices, mind – though doesn’t quite get to UAE prices. Or Norway’s, come to that.

Anyway, I’d recommend the Brooklyn Parlor, and this beer, if you find yourself in Tokyo. Decent food (unusually), decent beer (unusually), and – where I was sitting, at least – a smoke-free atmosphere (unusually). 素晴らしい！

Brooklyn Parlor, Hitacho, Hitacho Nest White Ale, Japan, Tokyo, Wheat beer Hide

In San Francisco last night, and was served Anchor Steam Beer in Dave’s. And there’s how it came.

It’s odd (and wrong) to have beer in a different glass, particularly a Guinness glass, since I get confused as to why my Guinness is an amber coloured, medium-bitter drink which is slightly too gassy for my taste. But look closer.

It’s a dual-branded glass. It’s also branded ‘Harp lager’.

For a company that consistently gets its branding so correct, I’m rather amazed that Guinness/Diageo would produce a dual-branded glass like this. True, the Harp branding is in black, and therefore would be invisible when this glass is used for Guinness, and only visible when it’s used for Harp lager. But. Even so.

Have you seen any other dual-branded glasses? Let me know in the comments.

Anchor steam beer, California, Guinness, Harp, San Francisco, USA Hide

In Wetherspoons over the holiday period, and one of the guest beers available was the rather excellent Jennings Snecklifter: with a message on the pump clip.

The message said something about the fact that, because of the recent floods, Jennings beer is being brewed ‘by other breweries’ (other breweries from Marston’s), and that 10p of every pint is going straight into the Cumbrian floods appeal.

Visiting their website, they’ve a special section about the flooding: and the efforts to bring the brewery back online.

Congratulations should go to the Marston’s Group to be doing something sensible for the local economy; and to Wetherspoon’s for stocking it. Hopefully it’ll be popular.

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Montréal takes a bit of getting used to.

French is the first language here. Parisian architecture nestles with the brash skyscrapers and wide streets of a typical US city. French-looking coffee shops and cafés rub shoulders with the dual-language ‘Café Starbucks Cafe’ and McDonald’s signs adorned with maple leaves. The roadsigns and large North American cars coexist with a high degree of European cultural activity. And all amongst it is a fierce independent streak. Those in Montreal don’t want to be like the US – or, indeed, the rest of Canada.

Montréal, like many cities, is broken up into many different areas: and I strolled, in the cold, in an area away from the skyscrapers of downtown on the hunt for some microbreweries.

The first, L’amère à boire, brewed all its own beer. The beer menu, proudly advertising ‘ales anglaises, lagers allemandes, lager tcheques’ went into the details of each beer in some detail. I wanted to start with the porter, then realised that if I was to try other beers, this might not be the cleverest plan, so instead, chatting to some new friends from the French-language Radio Canada, I went for the India Pale Ale. It was certainly a faithful, if slightly dull, representation of an IPA – brewed in steel vats behind us. L’amère à boire, which is a piece of French wordplay, was a very fine start to the evening; feeling less like an English pub and more like a south of France bar.

Another walk, and another piece of French wordplay. I’ve no real idea what the wordplay is withinDieu du Ciel, but clearly it was very funny, and extended to the large beer list (above), which was written on the blackboard; the unavailable number 15 demonstrating the continuous turnaround of some of these beers.

I started with the Fumisterie, an amber beer brewed with hemp. It had an odd “signature”, to use the words of my Québec-born companion; an unfamiliar taste of herbs as part of the overall, sweet, bouquet. Certainly one for trying, though whether I would try it again, I’m not so sure.

Then I moved on to the Corne du Diable, a strong and wonderfully hoppy American pale ale. This was deliciously bitter: so much so, it almost made my mouth pucker on first tasting it. Astoundingly good. Most fine.

In both places – and the additional microbrewery I tried the following night – I was struck by the wide choice of styles available. The French or Belgians wouldn’t, typically, also offer you a Scottish Ale, a Kölsch, and a stout; yet the microbreweries in Montréal offered all of these and rather rarer styles, and impressively they get them right, too.

I must find an excuse to visit the city again: there are many delightful reasons to return, especially the people.

APA, Canada, IPA, Montréal Hide

On a recent trip to Copenhagen, I rather enjoyed a visit to Carlsberg’s Visitor Centre.

Now, I’ve blogged recently on the cost of beer in Denmark, and the moderately difficult job you might have to avoid drinking from the Carlsberg Group. But the reality is that Carlsberg is a decent brewery: not only does it have some tremendous architecture in its brewery complex, it’s also the home of more than just Carlsberg – the craft beers of JC Jacobsen also live in the brewery, based on Ny Carlsberg Vej in the city.

The Carlsberg Visitor Centre is rather better than many I’ve been in: concentrating on Carlsberg (rather than brewing), the dark museum takes you through a complete history of the brand and beer in Denmark. It’s rather nicely put together: including a tremendous collection of different beer bottles (including rather a lot of Carlsberg bottles).

Then, all of a sudden, via some brewing equipment, you’re ejected out into the horse stables: and the unmistakeable smell of horse poo hits your nose. Yes, the horses are still here; and still work for the brewery. Then, it’s into the JC Jacobsen part – a much more modern brand, with some clever tasting aids; and into the bar.

Your entry fee pays for one posh beer and one boring one – I went for a JC Jacobsen Belgian Ale and a Carls Porter, rather than the boring Carlsberg/Tuborg that everyone seems to want to steer you to. The JC Jacobsen was wonderful, amazingly yeasty and very strong. In this bar, bright, light, and complete with table-football and food, I also discovered free wifi, which helped me take my time to savour these beers over some excited Twittering.

The visitor’s shop, incidentally, sells rather more than you’d expect: including a rather fashionable Carls t-shirt. I bought one. More money into the Danish brewery.

If you are planning a trip to Copenhagen, while the brewery isn’t exactly central (it’s a walk from any of the public transport I could find), it’s certainly an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon. Which is what I did. And I’d recommend it.

belgian ale, carlsberg, denmark, JC Jacobsen, porter Hide

If you have already seen the new Guinness World ad, you’re probably wondering how they made it.

This is how, in case you were wondering.

If you’re not, I should point out that the main image behind this blog is Whitstable Bay Organic Stout (other stouts are available!) and that my next blog posting will be all about the Carlsberg Visitor’s Centre.

advertising, Guinness, stout Hide

For reasons best known to Guinness’s PR team, I am the proud recipient of a small USB stick containing a few shots of the new Guinness ad.

I’ve studied them. One has a man attached to a rocket. Another has lots of diggers. A third has a camera pointing at some snow. A fourth, shown above, appears to be a still of the TV ad, shown on a little telly inside a cheap car, where the ad-men are sheltering from the rain.

I have no idea what’s going on.

One of the shots is entitled ‘Coralman’ on the USB stick, if that’s of any help at all.

Lovers of the black stuff, or lovers of beautifully-crafted television advertisements, might like to watch the television tomorrow evening, where apparently we’ll be able to see the whole thing. I suspect it’ll be trying to sell us Guinness of some variety. Which will be a good thing.

(Later: here it is!)

advertising, dublin, Guinness Hide

The price of beer in Denmark, just like other Scandinavian countries, is madness incarnate. A couple of pints will cost anything from £11 to £13, and that’s before you add a fairly all-pervasive credit-card charge of 3.5%.

The casual beer drinker, apart from being blinded by the eye-wincing prices, would also think to themselves that there wasn’t much variety. Carlsberg appears to be all-conquering, with a few varieties (Carls Special, Carlsberg Dark) as well as the well-known pilsner lager beloved of Liverpool fans. It’s not even the best lager in the world, in spite of its rather clever advertising.

Salvation appears to be at hand with a visit to the bar – in many places, there’s also a range of beers from Tuborg. Whether it’s Tuborg Special, or the standard Tuborg Green, at least there’s a choice of company to pay. Hurray for competition, you’d think. Until you discover that Carlsberg, um, owns Tuborg (and has done since 1970). Mind, you won’t normally find Tuborg in the UK (though it’s a big name in Israel, apparently).

If you’re really lucky, you’ll find another brand name at the bar. JC Jacobsen produce some splendidly nice beer; the Dark Ale is in many bars, but they produce a pretty full range, including Belgian-type strong blonde beers, wheat beer, helles, amber, and more. The beers are splendid. So splendid, in fact, that you almost feel that you can overlook the fact that these beers are named after the founder of, yes, Carlsberg, and they’re yet another brand of the brewery.

Paying all your money (and I mean all your money) to Carlsberg seems almost inevitable, therefore, given that they have a virtual monopoly on beer in Denmark. 92% of all of the 870 million litres of beer drunk by the Danish comes from Denmark, so I’ve no idea how they get past the EU Commission, but, as the fifth largest brewery company in the world, they’re clearly doing something right. They also own Tetley, and Scottish & Newcastle.

However, look a little further, and there’s a surprising microbrewery scene in Denmark; particularly in the centre of Copenhagen.

Start at the dowdy end of the Strøget, the Copenhagen shopping ’street’, and next to the town hall square you’ll find not just one but three brew pubs; all of which brew their own beer on the premises.

First, there’s the nattily entitled Brewpub, which is in an otherwise quiet road that you’d probably not wander down. Don’t make that mistake; on my visit, Brewpub was selling six of their own brews, including Cole Porter (which is a deeply lovely porter), a wheat beer, a fabulous IPA, a lager (well, you know, if you can’t beat them, etc), an odd blended beer which I didn’t really understand made from a few different beers mixed together, and something with elderflower. The Brewpub also does rather good pub meals as well as a fancy restaurant which I’ve never eaten in, though it looks rather good. Everything’s cooked with beer, naturally.

The other side of the town hall square, on the short road to the train station, contains a number of pubs and restaurants, including Copenhagen’s Hard Rock Cafe, an Irish pub, and various other eateries. Among the McDonalds and chicken shops you’ll also find Vesterbro Bryghus which sells, at the time of my visit, five beers – each with their own beer mat (so you can match the beer to the mat). Their IPA was cloudy (presumably unfiltered) and not as fully-flavoured as the Brewpub’s; however, my drinking companion found the Brewpub’s IPA too bitter for his taste, so there’s no pleasing everyone, I suppose.

A few doors away is The Old English Pub, above, which sounds dreadful but is actually rather a pleasant place to pass the time. It’s not a brew pub, but sells quite a variety of beer, including the Carlsberg range as well as at least one other Danish beer from one of the smaller producers. I enjoyed a wheat beer from said brewer – it was darker and less sweet than the Franziskaner weisse that my friend went for.

Over the road (not for this visit) is another brewpub – the Bryggeriet Apollo; actually, more of a brew-restaurant. You always know you’re going somewhere proper when there is a sign, proudly displayed inside, from CAMRA – saying something like “On 28 November 2006, some blokes from CAMRA decided to have a drink here and quite enjoyed it”. Nicer beer, though I remember it as being rather more intimidating than any of the other places I mention here.

And around twenty minutes walk away is the Nørrebro Bryghus which once more sells wonderful home-brewed beer in a rather industrial surroundings – a 19th century metal factory. Nørrebro is apparently the cool place where it’s all at; it served a really nice lunch too, when I went a while ago.

So, the moral of the story is: if you’ve the money for a drink in Copenhagen, there are plenty of places where you can avoid the all-pervasive Carlsberg Group. And I secretly hope that while 92% of the beer drunk in Denmark might continue to be Danish, at least the proportion of Carlsberg beer in that number might start going down: competition’s good for everyone.

This is a slightly rehashed article from the original on my main blog, based on a recent re-visit to Copenhagen.

Bryggeriet Apollo, carls, carlsberg, denmark, franziskaner, IPA, jacobsen, lager, Nørrebro Bryghus, porter, the old english pub, tuborg, vesterbro bryghus, weisse Hide

On the 19th May 1759, a bloke called Arthur started brewing beer in a disused brewery in St James’s Gate in Dublin: copying a London beer style and making a stronger version, known as “extra stout porter”. He started exporting it into the UK ten years later. Little did he know that he was starting one of the most recognised beer brands in the world: a brand that’s just as famous in Nigeria and Indonesia as it is in Dublin or London.

I had a book once about the Guinness brand. Guinness Is Guinness was written by a man in advertising, someone who’d done work for Guinness, and someone who came across, frankly, as rather a corporate shill for Diageo, the drinks conglomerate who owns this brand these days. But the book was well-written and, once you’d got past the bare admiration for the people who’d doubtless paid for this man’s bright red glasses and braces, it was very interesting to see the control that Guinness place on their brand: that the glass had to be given to the customer with the logo facing the customer, that the temperature had to be just right (5 celsius for the normal stuff, 3 celsius for the extra-cold), and that there are constant patrols of brand guardians ensuring this is done.

Tonight, as a guest of Diageo, I was able to join the London Blogger’s evening, with the promise of tasting some irish whiskey (er, no) or the Guinness range (er, aha). I turned up to find a nice man with a Guinness-branded ruler measuring the head on his Guinness, and shoving a temperature gauge into his pint, to check that it was the right temperature. (I was first in. Slightly early. Whoops.)

“Have you ever poured a pint of beer yourself?”, he asked. Well, no. Not as it happens. So he showed me how to pour a pint of the black stuff – including the main pour, the wait, then the top-up, all 119.5 seconds and 198 kcal of it. (I’m convinced this is pour/wait/topup nonsense is marketing hokum, incidentally. Absolutely convinced. Great differentiator, but complete rubbish.)

There’s something slightly odd about standing in a fake bar in a drinks company, with a bizarre mix of Guinness television ads (“Tipping Point”, since you ask) and slightly scary ads warning you to drink in moderation. I rather embarrassingly had my Guinness cufflinks on (given as a christmas present one year), and my ID badge hangs from a Guinness lanyard (bought on my last day of working for Virgin Radio, in Dublin). I might have looked a little like a Guinness groupie. I guess I might be – even though I only drink Guinness when the pub I’m in is rubbish enough not to sell proper ale. I guess I’m a groupie of the brand, rather than of the drink itself.

But, it’s very clear that the Guinness man I met was extraordinarily proud about the product he sold. “I’ve worked for the company since 1979″, he said, “and I’ve only ever not wanted to come into work twice.” Working for a great brand, doing something you really enjoy, is clearly highly rewarding. I was rather jealous of him.

This year, I’ll be enjoying St Patrick’s Day on holiday in Malaysia. But just like everywhere on earth, I’ll have no problems finding a Guinness: they even brew it there. I’ll raise a glass to you in the South Asian heat.

Guinness Hide

This beer’s slightly scary label was created by a Scottish art student, Heather Brennan, who was at the launch of the dark lager tonight looking slightly awestruck – meeting with beer writers and bloggers (even Roger Protz was in the house, scribbling notes) – despite the fact that this was her first real day in London: she’d spent much of the day going to see the sights and photographing them. This was the first time she’d actually seen the beer bottles with her design on them; and the first time she’d tasted the beer, too. She won a competition organised by the brewery.

Heather was dressed in purple, echoing the bottle’s colour: but it seems even this has a story – the original plan was for the label to be in green, not dark purple, but the printer had run out of the right colour ink.

There’s a story everywhere. James Watt (no, not the radio presenter from Stray FM, but the managing director of the brewery) was especially impressed at the new, soon-to-be-launched website for the beer. Apparently, if you buy a case for delivery on the website, you get a code to be able to post a blog entry on the website. This is a clever wheeze – the website encouraging a community feel from Zeitgeist beer drinkers. It’s like social media, but around a new beer.

Brewdog understand the web completely. The beer’s even on Twitter; and the only reason I was there is because of a blog posting I made recently about the brewery which was noticed by their PR man.

And, naturally, it’s backed-up with a solid beer. Zeitgeist is a black lager (it’s how lager used to be), with a nice light chocolatey/coffee taste. At 4.9% it’s not too scary, being the same kind of strength as a standard lager. Not just does it taste better than a Kronenburg, it’s less fizzy too. And while the MD of the company was slightly uncomfortable with the temperature of the beer (he cradled his bottle in his hands, attempting to warm it up, while telling us good things about the flavour), he was very pleased once he saw the beer beginning to go down well. It’s the first black lager to be produced in the UK; and pinches its successful formula from Germany, where schwartz-beers are a favourite taste for many.

This type of marketing is perfect for the launch of any brand; and perfect for any radio station to learn from. Local interest from a competition; stories all over the place to ensure a good, long-lasting story; proper, sensible use of tools like Twitter and blogs to monitor what people are saying and reach out to their audience; and backed up with a solid product that doesn’t look as if it’s been market-researched into bland oblivion.

A triumph for Brewdog; but something to learn for any marketer, too.

black lager, brewdog, Scotland, zeitgeist Hide