Opinion: Guinness and Me – Love and Hate at the Heart of Darkness …

My first encounter with Guinness was as a small child in the very early seventies when my father would on occasion bring home four or so half-pint bottles after work from the local grocery shop that doubled as a public house - as many still did in rural Ireland in the last century and well before that too. I was only three or four years old but I can still clearly remember sitting on the floor at his feet playing while he sat on an armchair beside our Stanley cooker. He'd pour one into into a glass before placing the empty bottle beside the chair leg with a clink of glass on tile. I’m sure this ritual happened on a Friday because my mother would be baking as she normally did on that evening and the smell of soda bread filled the kitchen along with the heat from the stove. Under his watchful eye (and out of my mother’s) I would pick up the small, stumpy bottle and put it to my lips, before tipping it back and letting the tiny dregs of stout coat my tongue and cause my mouth to pucker. I guess I just wanted to be part of his Friday night tradition of enjoying those hard-earned bottles at the end of a long arduous week. He wasn’t much of a drinker in truth so it’s curious that this is one of my earliest remembered interactions with him, and although small parts of it might be misremembered and embellished by the progress of time and a need for joyful memories, the basic elements are true.

For my next serious encounter we need to fast-forward a few years to the late eighties. While listening to a gig in a local bar in town a friend persuaded me to order a draught Guinness as a change from the usual pint of Harp, as that was what he drank. I certainly didn’t take to it at the first sip, as taste-wise it was radically different from my lager, but something must certainly have appealed to me as I continued to drink it for almost two decades. It might have been the influence of my drinking partner, who also introduced me to smoking - although that was a habit I thankfully didn’t take up - or maybe I liked how it looked, or perhaps I felt I was cool to be drinking it - as if I had finally grown up? I’m really not sure. Certainly – at first anyway – the actual taste didn’t play a part and I doubt any nostalgic longing to my childhood did either.

But I grew to love my pints of Guinness.

I drank it all over Ireland, in parts of England, and a lot of Europe too. I savoured pints from Dublin to Kerry, and Mayo to Cork. I drank it gladly in pubs in Islington and Hounslow, Birmingham and Manchester. I even consumed it on cold nights in Irish bars in Innsbruck and Bruges, and on summer holidays in Greece and Italy and many other too-hot countries. To me it always tasted much the same, apart from some (perceived) exceptional pints served to me on a particularly memorial night and early morning in The Strand guesthouse on Achill, and a dreadful one I had when hungover in the middle of a ridiculously hot day in Protaras, Cyprus.

I would not say I drank it exclusively, and I was never a huge drinker, but it was certainly my number one beer by quantity.

But around 20 years ago I fell out of love with Guinness and I can’t remember exactly when or why, it was certainly a case of ‘it’s-not-you-it’s-me,’ as apart from the dreaded and still linger legacy of Guinness Extra Cold I don’t believe the beer in my glass changed much? I moved back to lagers - usually foreign - often in bottles and rarely to same brand twice, as I was interested in trying new drinks as part of a journey into expanding my food and beverage palate. In my defence back then it was mostly strange lagers which were available apart from one local microbrewery which I certainly flirted with off and on. This change might also have coincided with a camping trip we made around Europe where four of us would bring a case of lager back to our campsite to share, and every night it was a different localish brand, so variety and variation of a sort became the norm.

But then came a trip to Belgium with a group of friends in 2008 and obviously after that I became an insufferable beer snob for a short while as I trod a path well worn by many before me. I wasn’t trying to be that sort of person but somehow the waves of Belgian beer and its culture – however tourist-focussed relatively new it was – washed over me and I was born again, baptised in sour ales, blondes and tripels. I became ‘That Guy’ in the bar who was always trying to persuade others to drink ‘craft’ beers from the newly emerging scene here, or dusty bottles of German bocks, Trappist ales or whatever wasn’t mainstream. I did succeed in converting many of my friends and family along my apostolic-like journey, but I cringe somewhat now as I look back on that early time of shunning certain beers and wonderful bars based solely on their line-up. I spent so much time making meaningless scribbles in notebooks and on apps and finally on a blog, notes that rarely mattered as I wound never drink that beer again. I continued to look for the next beer, the new beer, the rare beer.

I won’t say it was a waste of time as such, as I did enjoy every minute of it to be fair, but a small part of me regrets spending so much time on analysing beers and less time experiencing and enjoying them more with the company I was with in some fantastic places.

But soon enough I began to mellow and instead of instigating a talk about beer in a pub I’d let others ask me about what I was drinking (and ask why I spent so long taking pictures of it – more wasteful time!) and used that as a way of getting people to initially talk about beer and then often to trying one, because I really do like to talk about beer and brewing, often to the point of not recognising the abject boredom in my friends faces. More recently I developed a taste for cask ales, which I had only previously tried and somewhat dismissed in England decades ago, and I also began to appreciate lighter styles like mild ales, lager and porters, although mostly from local or small breweries. I also started frequenting 'normal' pubs more often instead of forcing others to my craft-centric places, and there I revisited Guinness Draught again for the first time in decades …

I was underwhelmed. It was fine, there was certainly nothing wrong with what I was poured. It tasted just like it was supposed to, quite mild and slightly bitter, but it lacked … something? Depth and character perhaps? Possibly because I’ve had my palate assailed by the uber-sour, the ultra-hoppy and the over-sticky beers for too many years so I didn’t appreciate the nuanced flavours of this iconic brand – and maybe my age played a part – but how come I could pick these up in cask ales or even understated lagers?

I was certainly disappointed, as part of me wanted it to be a beer I could like because it would make my drinking life and choices in non-craft pubs much easier and maybe more enjoyable. Sadly, that was not the case – there would be no returning of long-lost love into my life. I even tried it again elsewhere but there was no connection, no grá. Nothing.

The romance was truly over.

-O-

Now let me be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with draught Guinness. Taste-wise it isn’t dreadful or crap or any of the other words that some have called it. It’s certainly – and ironically – plain for a stout, but no doubt that is its appeal to many. Like Coors, Rockshore, Smithwicks and a host of other macrobrewed beers it is the simplest of its genera and that makes perfect sense, as most people aren’t like those of us who feel the need to talk almost constantly about what we are drinking. Macrobrewed beers are the lubricant to the cogs of conversation and socially enjoyment for the vast majority of beer drinkers, and drops of anything thicker would jam the mechanism or at least slow it down - and I’ve come to appreciate and understand that at least.

I have no objection to nitro-served beers either, in fact I’m quite partial to them at times. But it must be noted that nitrogen does dull – or soften let’s say - the flavours of beers and it certainly changes their taste profile, taking the edge off of it. Therefore if you want (and you may not of course) a nitrogenated beer with any kind of pronounced flavour then – for me, and only me – it needs to start from something with a stronger and fuller flavour profile than Guinness, so for my palate that means stouts which are a little less dry, such as Murphy’s and Beamish on the macro front. For me, both of these are better as nitro-served products, with Guinness and Island’s Edge both on the drier side and relatively similar.

Of course, microbrewed nitro stouts are generally speaking a cut above any of those for my palate, as again – to be clear – personally I am looking for more flavour in my beer these days.

(And yes, I have done a blind tasting.)

But I still drink Guinness by the way, although only in bottles when I’m ‘stuck’ in places where there is no option for something with more flavour and usually only if bottles of Macardles ale are not available – as it at least has some sort of pronounced flavour. This version of Guinness – ‘Original’ or XX, or Extra Stout – is  quite different to Guinness Draught, being just ‘normally’ carbonated apart from anything else. When served at shelf temperature it is a much more appealing and beguiling product than its draught cousin – although it is still far behind most microbrewed bottled stouts. (Again, I have blind tasted a selection of bottled stouts.)

And I certainly don’t love it ... but I do like it.

-O-

These days I don’t generally push microbrewed beers over macrobrewed, as I no longer feel it is my vocation to preach to others regarding what they drink, but I will more often than not favour microbrewed (‘craft’) beers over macrobrewed ones purely on taste. This coupled by the fact that I’m drinking more homebrewed beers these days due to experimenting with Irish historic beer recipes and the need to brew and sample the same. I’m more of a drink-and-let-drink sort of person now, apart from some gentle and expected ribbing of friends and family when it comes to their choice of beers.

But there are beer related matters that irk me and cause me consternation.

The first – as many of you know - is how many Irish restaurants and chefs or butchers and bakers will shout loudly about ‘Artisan’ and ‘Local’ with all the produce the cook and bake with - apart from beers of course, where most will happily include Guinness in their steak pies or brown bread, and baste their locally sourced fancy beef joint in Smithwicks. Some will get into bed with any drink multinational who waves a cheque at them, or they will promote their love of pints of certain mass-produced beers on social media, while in their next post telling their followers not to go to chain cafes, international fast-food restaurants or to eat anything that hasn’t been sourced 10km from where we live by a small farmer or grower. The worse thing is that neither they or their followers can see or appreciate the irony and hypocrisy because, ‘It’s just beer, isn’t it?’ It doesn’t seem to count because beer, perhaps, has always had a stigma attached to it that spirits and wine do not. This is why most restaurants will carefully curate a wines list and have a literal showcase of proper Irish spirits but have three taps of ‘big’ beer on, or worse still a rebadged microbrewed beer under the house name. Which perhaps shows the lack of pride and confidence that some breweries have in their beers, plus the lack of integrity that the restaurant has for its customer – a complete absence of respect for the product and drinker. Would they lie about their meat and other produce too? It makes me wonder about the producers' names on their menus, are they fake too? (It surprises me that practically all craft beer drinkers think this is an okay practice – as long as it isn’t a 'big' brewery doing it …) I am generalising here of course and it is a road I have gone down before but it is worth reiterating here for context.

The other group that infuriates me are the beer drinkers who preach about drinking from small producers and supporting craft, but make an exception for pints of draught Guinness – and only Guinness I might add.

Let me be clear – yet again – this isn’t every beer drinker out there or even craft beer drinker, as there are many beer omnivores who just drink (and write) about beer in general and don’t pontificate – but some do indeed lecture us about big beer versus small and those are the drinkers whose Guinness exception I cannot understand. I am indeed one of the much maligned ‘drink what you like’ brigade who at this stage in their journey through life - probably aided by age - really agrees in that mantra, even if others think it trite. And age has also turned me into a grumpy cantankerous creature who is likely to call out what can only be classed as insincere and contradictory behaviour.

In Animal Farm one of the rules painted on the barn walls is famously ‘All Animals are Equal’, which – spoiler alert – had the words ‘… But Some are More Equal Than Others’ added to it. This attitude looks to also apply to certain ‘craft’ beer drinkers who will embrace the joy of a macrobrewed nitro stout but would be quick to jeer their drinking partners if they ordered a pint of Coors, Tuborg or even Heineken no doubt. As I have mentioned above, these beers are no worse or better than Guinness at face value, all just being the less flavoursome versions of their styles.

I also firmly believe that if any of their beloved small breweries produced something with such a basic flavour profile it would get very few stars on certain drink apps and get called out as boring at the very least on social media by those who appear to worship craft beer even as they not-so-secretly drink from the well of St. Arthur within the Gate.

I have tried to get me head around this apparent aberration and misplaced need, simply because it appears out of kilter. Is there something comforting in the colour and texture - perhaps? Is the heritage a factor (although most beers have that)? Is it the taste in itself (as discussed above I don’t think it can be that either)? Perhaps it’s the marketing? Maybe it’s the ritualistic process of the pour? It certainly isn't price related. In truth I don’t know but I do know that, like with the food gurus already mentioned, there should be a degree of self-awareness as to how this looks. To return to a previous topic, imagine if a respected food writer, who focussed entirely on local artisan products was seen eating and waxing lyrically about a Big Mac? There would be uproar and condemnation from all sides of the food sector.

Yet it’s accepted for beer.

As ever, none of this applies to you dear reader unless you feel it does, and only you can decide that ...

-O-

It is also worth reiterating that I don’t dislike Guinness in general, it would be quite difficult to take that stance give how much I read about it and how much I have written about aspects of its history.

But I do hate the drink equivalent of the Cult of Personality that has arisen around it.

I hate some of its drinkers, specifically those who genuinely mock others for their glassware or how their beer was poured – especially on social media.

I hate how some people seem to think they have a psychic ability to know what a Guinness tastes like from a picture alone.

I hate all the marketing guff that has been spouted over many years.

I hate how - by accident or design - it has completely taken over Ireland’s brewing history and eclipsed any hope of our real beer history from shining through.

I hate how it seen as such a huge part of out tourism industry to the detriment of other smaller enterprises, regardless of how lucrative this is for us as a whole.

I hate how it is normally the only stout available in a bar in Ireland outside of the bigger cities.

I hate how people have turned St. Patrick’s Day into ‘St. P-Arthur-ick’s Day’ and how the whole day now revolves around drinking Guinness in every part of the world where that day is celebrated. (I’d almost prefer more green beers!)

I hate how it has become ubiquitous with my country, a place I truly love. Ireland isn’t Guinness and Guinness isn’t Ireland.

And mostly I hate that 'Brand Guinness' – more often not pushed by Guinness themselves, but its followers – has (figuratively) left a sour taste in my mouth, even as I write about it, research it, and on occasion drink it in one form or another, and perhaps in doing so making me just a big a hypocrite as those I have issue with …

-O-

But there are also a few other uniquely Irish reasons for some on this island to dislike the brand, the company, and the beer itself, whether rightly or wrongly.

Back in the day it gained the moniker ‘Protestant Porter’ and catholic drinkers were encouraged to shun it and to even destroy barrels of it on occasion for reasons I won’t go into here. There are many anecdotes and possibly some falsehoods as to why this happened but the term and the tales are still remembered and repeated for right or wrong in certain circles.

They are also blamed by many for closing down most of the other breweries in Ireland and buying them up, or sometimes vice versa. It could be argued that it was shrewd business practices and a better and more consistent product, coupled with a better logistical infrastructure that closed the other breweries, and that Guinness just mobbed up the detritus. My own feeling is that it was a little of both, but that resentment is still there for an albeit small minority of people here.

Some have still not forgiven them for ‘supplying’ the British with truck beds on which the army built armoured cars in the Irish rebellion of 1916. (Some sources report they also used Guinness fermentation vessels on the back of the trucks but this is untrue as it can be clearly seen in photographs that these were the front ends of locomotive engines, although from what source I know not.) There are also those who argue that these trucks were requisitioned from Guinness against their wishes, but either way you can see how all of this might stick in the craw of those of a certain age and historical bent.

Its parent company’s brand monopoly – along with others in fairness – on the bar counters of this country is somewhat unique, as every establishment has had almost the same line-up (give or take a couple of brands) for decades here until the slow rise of the new brewers. Those microbreweries have had immense difficulty getting their taps on display for various reasons, although in truth not all of these issues can be laid at the feet of the big drink companies - as some blame must be apportioned to the bar owners and the punters too, but it explains the dislike it has by many in the microbrewery sector. (I am aware that this lack of choice in Irish pubs is the reason why some feel 'forced' to drink draught Guinness too – as it is perceived to be the best option where the choice of something more flavoursome is missing. Although many of you dismiss The Large Bottle much too quickly in my opinion ...)

These are issues that those from outside Ireland who don’t know much about our beer scene or real brewing history are possibly unaware of (and the huge majority of tourists who drink here wouldn’t care anyway) as they honestly just want to try one brand of beer when they visit – regardless of its past or present image.

-O-

But I truly do believe you should drink what you like, but we also need to be aware of honesty, truth and hypocrisy. To be partisan in the beer world is a difficult thing, as nostalgic needs, marketing and just the plain love of a brand can make you wobble on your high horse and end up under its hooves. You can be fooled by mood, location and your fickle palate – the Guinness I drank in Achill and in Protoras came out of a barrel that originated from the same brewery and, not withstanding a dodgy beer line, the biggest variable in the equation by a wide mile was me, my palate and mood.

If you want to celebrate Guinness by all means do so, but then praise all beers and don’t mock other people’s choices and preach to them about the inadequacies of Coors Light when you are drinking what could be argued is its equivalent in the stout world. (I am acutely aware that all of this may come across as preachy here, but this wasn’t the intention – or not completely anyhow – clarity was.)

Finally, just remember that as much as it is okay for people to like and enjoy Guinness, and millions do as it is a consistent and ‘quality’ product, it is also okay for others to dislike certain aspects of the brand and its drinkers, although ironically many of us are indifferent to the actual product itself at this stage of our beer-soaked journeys …

Love beer. Love all beer …

Liam K

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