The Guinness Blacklist – Testing the Taste Buds & Challenging Convention

If there's one thing that will anger and traumatise a certain type of Guinness drinker it's the thought of blending their hallowed tipple with any other drink. Okay, so there's more than one thing, there are many things that will cause their teeth to gnash – from the glass, to the pour, to the size of the head, and a host of other perceived serious issues that will somehow cause that stout to taste awful. But probably top of that pile, nothing should be added to their stout on pain of death by a 1,000 social media replies – with perhaps the exception of a grudging dash of blackcurrant. This preciousness around Guinness seems to be a relatively recent phenomenon, probably driven by an internet obsession with the image of the so-called perfect pint. It has of late become sacrosanct and yet another example of the swapping of one flawed religion for another form of worship, complete with preachers and gurus.

But this quest for idolatry and purity of vision/taste hasn't always been the case, as there was a time when even Guinness themselves, albeit their English marketing division, were promoting (to a point) something that would horrify many a drinker of their beer today.

So, let the traumatisation and gnashing begin.

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The summer of 1975 was a hot one in the UK, as was the following year so if there was ever a time to float the idea of mixing Guinness with other libations it would appear that the marketing department of the Guinness brewery at Park Royal in London picked the right years, given that Guinness is often categorised – erroneously – as a winter drink for cold weather. It was in in that year that the Guinness Blacklist was launched, with a somewhat begrudging tone it seems, on the UK's unsuspecting public. The time of the launch and promotion seems to be coincidental to the sudden flip to hot weather, as it would have had to be planned months before, but it certainly was fortuitous if the idea was to keep people drinking stout and not change to the cold lager that was becoming more and more abundant as the drink of choice in pubs and in the home at this time. But as we will see, given the tone of the marketing message it was more about a clever form of advertising perhaps that a very serious attempt to change the drinking habits of Guinness drinkers.

From the 11th of June 1975 advertisement began to appear in national newspapers in the UK in a slightly admonishing tone telling Guinness drinkers that although the brewery knew it was happening that weren't really that keen on the idea of Guinness being drank with anything added to it. They claimed they knew it was happening and had a complied a leaflet that listed what they saw as the common additions to their famous stout. Called the Guinness Blacklist, the name working well to both describe a list of black drinks as well as those that were disapproved of, and it contained a list of twenty Guinness blends that they say they felt were interesting, each accompanied by an illustration. The list could be obtained for free by filling in a coupon and sending it off to a promotion company on Brentford high street. Perhaps spurred on by the hot weather, by the following summer the tone of the advertisements had softened to resignation, to the point where in September 1976 similar advertisements for the list were almost begging drinkers to try a Guinness shandy.

The tone of the opening blurb on the list itself is almost sceptical resignation in its thoughts and opinion on the practice of mixing.

When we started to compile the Blacklist, we little realised how much people have been experimenting with Guinness.

It seems there's scarcely a drink that hasn't, at one time or another, shared the same glass as our dark, distinctive beer.

Reluctantly, we have to admit that many of the mixtures we tried were surprisingly pleasant. Others provoked, well, mixed feelings.

We suggest you try a few careful experiments at home, or down at the pub, and make up your own mind about mixing Guinness.

You may find some of the drinks we mention have different names from those you're used to.

The fact is, names of drinks differ widely from one part of the country to another. (For example, at least three different mixers go under the name Longship.)

Similarly, the origin of many of these drinks is somewhat uncertain. If in doubt, we've stuck to the most entertaining, if not believable, stories.

However, we'd be grateful for any further information about the practice of Guinness-mixing.

In fact, if there's anything you'd like to add, let us know.

The leaflet then goes on to list and illustrate the various blends that may or may not have existed. Some certainly did but some are also a little questionable in history, origin if not just general appeal.

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So what were these blends and what did they taste like? Well, there is only one way to find out ...

(A note on blending: These drinks will be thoroughly mixed, unlike what seems to be a newish method of beer 'blending' where the two products are layered one over the other. That is not a blended drink, it is two separate drinks in one glass and it's pointless from a tasting perspective, even if it is quite photogenic in its appearance.)

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Top Hat

The history behind most of these names deserves to be taken with a fair degree of scepticism, and this so-called 'popular drink' seems to have gone almost unreported in publication at this time, although there is a mention from the previous century, and in more very recent times of course. In general, factual content might be a little hard to come by with regard to some of these names and their provenance, but that's not quite the point of this exercise, and no doubt this mix was tried by drinkers at some point in the early part of the 20th century too.

The suggestion in the advertisements was that these blends be tried in the pub or at home, both with bottled Guinness Extra (now called Original) of with the draught version. This one called for ginger as a mixer so I selected Crabbies and a small bottle of Extra Stout. Back in the day this would have been a half pint bottle of stout not a 330ml, and the ginger beer may or may not have been alcoholic like this one, but it seemed a good choice. This is really the stout-based version of a drink called a shandy gaff.

At first it was mixed half-and-half but on tasting the blend the ginger was too dominant, its mild spice-burn was followed by an unpleasant acrid quality from what remained of the stout flavour, the roast barley, which left the whole drink tasting like a cheap coffee and ginger mix with no redeeming quality.

I persisted. Adding more stout to the mix, and using something closer to a 1 part ginger beer to 2 parts stout, made a huge difference to the experience. With the ginger beer now slotting into the background the flavours of the stout could be easily discerned, and this new ratio transformed it into a completely different drink. Gone was the over spicy heat and that lingering burnt flavour and what we now had was a very pleasant drink that hovered somewhere between and brown ale that was using some new-fangled New-World hops and some type of fancy spiced cola beverage. Success at the second attempt, and I can certainly see the appeal of this one. Not offensive in any way and perhaps a pleasant winter drink? Maybe mulled with a poker?! Regardless, it can be recommended to try, but watch the ratio of stout to ginger beer..

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Calcutta Cup

This blend gets the odd mention in more modern times but seems elusive in the Empire days based on a quick and, admittedly, unthorough hunt of old newspapers and books. There is certainly some logic to adding tonic to anything in certain climates given its protective qualities, but again the name and the history seem to be a little forced. It did certainly exist from at the very least the 1960s although perhaps not under that name.

I chose a small bottle of Guinness Extra Stout for this one too, along with a small can of Schweppes tonic water. I was a little wary of the tonic so mixed it roughly 1 part to 5 of the stout at first. That quantity had little effect on the drink, it just added a little cloying sweetness, so as with the Top Hat I reblended with 1 part tonic to 2 parts Guinness. This added an odd but rather nice coppery metallic bitterness to the drink that balanced the sweetness a little and something resinous too, like a mild lychee flavour perhaps? Although that might have been down to tropical empirical thoughts.

I'm not sure, but in a blind tasting you might just think it was some sort of too-clever artisan porter? It was very refreshing, and I could see it being popular in hot weather, or if one was blighted with mosquitos, but I think it might be difficult to drink it in large quantities with that still-lingering sweetness. Perhaps a different brand of tonic would give a different outcome on that front.

It's certainly one to try and it is quite inoffensive, if hardly inspiring.

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That's two down, only eighteen more to go!

More to follow next week ...

Liam K