TAG | lager
A man called Waldo, holding some Windhoek Lager. Photo: Cal Harding.
Now, look, I’m not much of a fan of lager. Really. It all tastes the same to me, out of bottles at least. I can’t tell the difference between one lager and another.
That said, I do know the difference between a lager which has been brewed with all kinds of nastiness, and a lager which has been brewed with the German reinheitsgebot purity law which basically says that the only thing allowable in your beer is water, barley, and hops. (And yeast, being honest, except that’s actually not allowable in the law, except it was repealed a long time ago and it’s just a marketing ploy these days, but you get my drift.)
When in Thailand recently, I was told that many Thai beers have formaldehyde in them, and that’s why you get a splitting headache if you have too much. This appears to be false – the splitting headache is because Thai beers were stronger than UK beers for some time and we didn’t understand this – but China apparently does still use formaldehyde in some local brews. This is why the reinheitsgebot is a good thing, since I’ve no plans to purposefully drink formaldehyde.
So, splendid to note that you can now get Windhoek Lager here in the UK. It’s Namibia’s local brew, and it’s now available in the UK (in places like Tesco). And it’s brewed (as all the Namibia Brewery beers are) in accordance with the reinheitsgebot. So it’s a nicely pure beer, as beer should be.
I was sent some to taste (and invited to the launch in the UK, which was postponed once because of the ash cloud, and then I managed to fall ill for the second try, so I missed out on that). And, you know what? It is a good beer, too. Crisp and tasty, and I’m sure very lovely at the end of a hot day.
It’s especially good at this time of year, because not only has it been quite hot recently here in the UK, it’s also a very popular beer in South Africa (which borders Namibia to the south, as I notice from Wikipedia, embarrassingly), and as such I enjoyed it as a reward for finishing some hot gardening and watching the World Cup.
The only question remaining is how I pronounce it. I thought I was right with “Wind-hook” but it turns out it’s “Vint-hook”, which is odd.
Anyway: if you’re a lager drinker and you’re fancying a change from the normal boring Becks or Carling, I would recommend it. It’s different, tasty, and formaldehyde-free!
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.
