Why does beer taste so much better in the pub? Surely, some of the countless millions spent on climate change research could be spared to answer the question. It’s not just the company and atmosphere that attracts us to pubs. Pub beer tastes different. Having explored this over a lifetime, I am certain the CAMRA crowd are clueless. Way too chemical. I can’t be bothered to remind myself of their theories. Something to do with cask conditioning, or “live” beer? or “live yeast, or well-trodden hops? Who knows? Who cares? They are wrong. My publican believes it is down to freshness. His beer is invariably fresh. He runs a drinker’s paradise. No barrel is permitted to last longer than 24 hours. This is achieved through rapid consumption. The regulars play their part, but he leads the charge. He waits until 6pm, he is very strict about that and then like Verstappen starting from the back of the grid he overtakes everyone in one lap and dominates the beer race to closing time. With a 13-mile journey separating me from the pub and my bed (as opposed to one staircase if he can be bothered to stumble up it), I am never going to compete with him. I am stuck with two pints in two hours or having a few more on the evenings when I am very grateful for a lift home from my wife who sometimes brings her panzer out and watches patiently while I try to squeeze my electric bike into the back somehow. These days I take the front wheel off before I start drinking. It saves a lot of bike wrestling later.
So, why does it taste better?
In Cannery Row, Steinbeck nibbles at it. As “Doc” comments, out of context to the plot on page 133 right at the bottom.
– The speech so dried out Doc’s throat that he drained his beer glass. He waved two fingers in the air and smiled, “There is nothing like that first taste of beer”,
That’s the power of observation that packs a Nobel prize. He’s right. The second beer is not as good, and neither are the others but the first of the night is a buzz. It’s why God gave us new days.
Maybe we will never know, and that is a Good Thing. Maybe even ChatGPT doesn’t know. But we can burn time speculating. Here’s an idea. Is it because you know pub beer won’t run out? On normal nights in my experience pubs don’t run out. They don’t get drunk dry. You can relax into your ale conversation knowing there is always another one available should you need it. With the stress of future supply removed your taste buds are free to dance their happy dance.
Speed of consumption plays a part. At the top of the glass is the best tasting swig. It is concentrated with the taste of the satisfaction of knowing that you have a full tank in reserve. This contented state is sustained down to about the halfway level. At this point the weight of the glass is still heavy enough to be reassuring and there is no need to divert brainpower away from conversation or interacting with the environment. You can carry on flicking beer mats for instance or finding that elusive balance when leaning back on the back two legs of a chair, where you float without falling forwards or backwards. It can be done. Sometimes just for a fraction of a second but for much longer by an expert, and in that purest moment you are scientifically weightless. Rumour has it that this is where mankind got the taste for zero gravity that led to the craving for flight and space exploration. It’s a trick best practiced without pint in hand until you have it fully nailed down. You are pretty vulnerable poised on two legs. A slight brush from someone walking past or a professional foul from someone whipping the legs away and you are going down. Once you are falling it is almost impossible not to spill your drink.
At the half pint stage, you start to think about whether you will have another. This is a very personal matter. Everyone has their way of knowing. If the answer is yes, you probably take a swig and cross the line with no anxiety. If no, this is a mood dampening moment. You know your fun is winding down. You probably drop the pace and eek it out. With each swig taking approximately twice as long and consuming half as much as its immediate predecessor. Be careful. This is the point where half an inch in the bottom can last 15 or 20 minutes, or possibly the whole night if you get stuck in Zeno’s paradox of always drinking half of what’s left. At this stage don’t leave it on the table or go to the bog. If you do it could easily be mistaken as deserted and swept away by an over-zealous bar person. I have seen people write little notes and hang them on their pint “not dead”, but this supposes bar staff can read or want to read. Many do not. If they did, they would be working in Sainsbury’s or writing punters names on coffee cups in Starbucks like Zack or Ruby (who names their daughter after a curry FFS).
If you are staying and have reached sub half an inch to go, you should be on your way back to the bar. No point holding an empty glass. In the good old days, your glass would be refilled but a lot of people must have died from this as it is not allowed any more. A huge amount of time, energy, and water (that could be turned into beer or wine even if you’re not Jesus) is wasted cleaning glasses. Most normal human beings will watch with warm satisfaction as their empty glass is recharged with another pint of not just beer but all the future fun it secures. You have paid the rent on another round of conversation and belonging. And, even though Steinbeck is right and it’s never as good as the first pint of the day, it will still be better than any pint you can have away from the pub. For sure the company matters but that is a separate category of pleasure. A blazing log fire or a seat outside at a bench on a sunny day might also enhance your Zen. But the taste of pub beer on its own with no other attraction or distraction is reason enough to be here. Not a strong beer, preferably under 4%. In my opinion 3.6% is ideal, the session fanciers’ tipple. Not weak, just strong enough to engage and maintain interest without swamping the brain. Of course, a determined consumer can push through into the zone where speaking and standing become elaborate circus tricks, but that should be an exception. A session ale is more likely to lead to high quality piss taking and the humour, debate, and reminiscing of the absurd that real pubs with no tellies, music or plated food are known for. And through all this entertainment including great pub games like seeing who can pull out an extending rule for the longest distance before it collapses, the beer is sovereign. Beer tastes better in the pub than it does anywhere else. I don’t know why, but it does and maybe that is all we need to know.
