Non-Beardy Beer » S

SCRUMPY JACK

Beer Book — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 13:33:35 +0000

Scottish & Newcastle
UK, 6% ABV

Scrumpy Jack’s origin lies in the obsolete dialect word ‘scrimp’, meaning a withered apple. ‘Scrump’ is the verb that was used to mean stealing somebody else’s apples, but originally referring to the custom of collecting windfalls. A variety of locally-grown gems such as Brown Snout, Tom Putt, Foxwhelp and Chisel Jersey are used in the production of Scrumpy Jack; a proud and traditional drink, made in one of the oldest cider mills in the UK. A true amber cider, this is also one on the decline – courtesy of all the new trendier brands. Coming in at a fairly potent 6%, it isn’t one of those flat warm real ale-types, but falls somewhere in between those and the sweet, fizzy stuff that you used to buy at the offie in your early teens. For me, it conjures up images of sitting lazily outside ye olde pub in the quaint village of Scrumpyshire on a summer’s evening, a few locals and farming stereotypes scattered around, a friendly game of cricket on the village green… then a load of out-of-towners turn up in their X5s to do impressions of The Wurzels, and order bottles of fashion cider, pour it into iced pint glasses and discuss city living in their expensive education accents. There’s always someone out to spoil the quintessential vision. Joe Strummer was from Somerset. I bet he never stood for such intrusions when he went back to his roots for a ploughman’s and a pint of the good stuff. SW

STRONGBOW CIRRUS

Beer Book — Mon, 03 May 2010 13:19:41 +0000

Scottish & Newcastle
UK, 5% ABV

In the summer of 2006, something very strange happened: the sun came out for more than an hour and Britain melted. Hot and bothered drinkers turned to new and exciting beverage offerings – and millions of them bought pint glasses filled with Magners and enough ice to sink the Titanic. The ice age all came together perfectly in the balmy, sweaty heat of summer 2006, backed, it has to be said, by an aggressive marketing campaign. But one set of cider drinkers did not have their heads turned by that newfangled caper and they were the Strongbow drinkers – dedicated fans of an altogether earthier appley goodness. S&N have clearly spotted this, and introduced a kind of halfway house between Magners and Strongbow – a Frankenstein’s monster called Strongbow Cirrus. The problem is that Cirrus is so watery, and so far removed from the original Strongbow brand that it actually tastes sweet. Sweet Strongbow, I ask you! Oh cruel, cruel fate, to be tempted by the green-eyed monster into making sub-par cider, which, in financial terms, may well unfortunately have some lasting effect on the original beautiful golden nectar. I mean, there’s got to have been some extra money pumped into marketing the stuff, and where is that going to come from? God help them if they end up damaging the original Strongbow brand – I know some of those dedicated Strongbow drinkers, and there’s no doubt they’ll fight a good fight. SG

SAMUEL ADAMS

Beer Book — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 12:35:37 +0000

Shepherd Neame
USA, 4.8% ABV

If you’ve ever been in a bar in the US and fancied something other than the omnipresent Bud or Miller then you might well have settled for a Sam Adams. Now available by the bottle in the UK, tasting this sweet, amber beer with its malty overtones could bring back transatlantic memories. You’ll remember humid Manhattan evenings, glorious Florida sunsets, and, most clearly, the fact that the Yanks still cannot make a decent mass-produced beer. At 4.5% ABV, Samuel Adams markets itself as a Boston Lager, yet upon first taste most people still think ‘fizzy real ale’. Roasted malt gives a darker hue to the brew which imparts a deeper, more robust flavour yet it still remains easy drinking, at least when on draught, although it’s overly gassy in its bottled guise. The labelling, with its old-style script and painting of Sam himself dressed in his 1770s poplin tunic, may sway you into thinking this Massachusetts brew has been around for generations. In fact, the beer was first brewed in 1984. Samuel Adams the man was a well known Bostonian, a pro-independence firebrand; he has been tagged ‘the Father of the American Revolution’, a true hero of American history. He did inherit a brewery from his father, so there is a link there, but the brewery went bust under his mis-management in 1764. So raise a glass of Samuel Adams to Samuel Adams the failed brewer but successful patriot, without whom there would be no Fourth of July! GT

SAN MIGUEL

Beer Book — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 13:09:24 +0000

Scottish & Newcastle
Spain, 5% ABV

Many folks’ first encounter with San Miguel was on the Spanish Costas, where this cerveza has rendered many a package holidaymaker incapable of finding their way back to their self-catering apartment. Now a major brand outside of Spain, San Miguel has become popular in bottles and cans in the UK, and has recently become a common sight on draught. Initially marketed as a premium lager at a premium price, San Miguel’s original strength of 5.4% ABV meant that it was sometimes tagged with the non-PC nickname ‘senorita beater’. Drink awareness campaigns and taxation issues have meant the UK-brewed strength has since diminished to 5% ABV, and the beer has inevitably become virtually indistinguishable from its many mid-market rivals. San Miguel (Spanish for Saint Michael, so not to be confused as a Marks & Spencer own-brand) gets its proper name from the district in Manila where the original brewery was set-up over a century ago. The Spanish company we know today split from its Philippine owner in the 50s. Even after half a century the different beers they produce still share the same name and use a similar style typeface on their labels. The ship on the logo is a representation of the 1773 Spanish Navy 74-gun warship San Miguel. That ship was captured by the Brits and, just like the beer, the British embraced it as one of their own, re-naming it the HMS San Miguel in 1782. GT

STONES BITTER

Beer Book — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 12:32:12 +0000

Coors
UK, 3.7% ABV

Old warhorse Stones Bitter has been around since the 1940s when William Stones Ltd began to make the stuff at the Cannon Brewery in Sheffield. Sean Bean worked there – or at least his character did in the football Britflick When Saturday Comes. The brewery was closed in 1999, and Stones is now brewed by American conglomerate Coors in Burton-on-Trent. In its bright orange cans, Stones is perhaps the EasyJet of beers. Pouring it into a glass reveals a drink that almost exactly matches the colour of the can. It looks fizzy, it looks weak, it looks like Iron Brew. Stones was the first ever alcoholic drink I tasted. I was seven and my granddad asked me if I could pour him a can. I sneaked a little taste and promptly spat the horrible poison back into his glass. Thankfully, he didn’t notice. But it got me thinking, what was the big deal about drinking beer? It was horrible. Obviously, since then, I have learnt the error of my ways and now drink as frequently as possible. But I’m still no fan of Stones. It used to be called Stones Best Bitter. Perhaps the Office of Fair Trading had something to do with the removal of the word ‘best’. If I’m at a party and it’s the only drink there, I’ll drink it. But I would then have to ask myself, what kind of crappy parties am I going to where people are bringing Stones Bitter? JR

SKOL SUPER

Beer Book — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 12:46:44 +0000

Carlsberg UK
Denmark, 9% ABV

I know of a man who complains that, ‘Skol Super is just not the same as it used to be. They’ve ripped the heart and soul out it, basically, and totally watered it down.’ Skol Super used to have an alcohol by volume percentage of 9.2%. It is now down to 9%. The man with the grievance is named Duggie, and he can usually be found sitting on a park bench in a bomber jacket shouting at clouds. Yep, Skol Super is not so called because of its super choice of barley, super blend of hops or for its super filtering methods. No; it enjoys the ‘super’ moniker because it is – along with the likes of Carlsberg Special Brew and Tennent’s Super – one of the most potent super strength lagers around, with enough alcohol content to knock out a horse. Taste-wise? If I was being charitable I’d describe it as a robust or maybe full-bodied drink, with a slightly sweeter taste than you’d usually find in strong lagers, with a distinct fruity/floral character. If I was being accurate I’d nail it as the equivalent of drinking the contents of a flower vase that has been spiced up with some barley wine which has hitherto lain hidden at the back of someone’s drinks cupboard for 20-odd years. In short: keep very much at arm’s-length and once opened do not return to it. It may look harmless enough but it has the potential to take your face off. TJ

STRONGBOW

Beer Book — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 12:44:13 +0000

Scottish & Newcastle
UK, 5.5% ABV

What is it with alcohol and advertising at the moment? Cider bestseller Strongbow has bucked the trend of using arty scenes of orchards and much-happier-than-me Irish folks enjoying a seasonal cider, and has instead gone down the leery-beery route favoured by Carling and WKD, with ads featuring gobby, matey oiks living life to full down the boozer. I want to drink Strongbow (made by HP Bulmer, as opposed to Bulmers Ireland, for S&N) as it retains an almost earthy, barely washed, gig-going coolness that, coupled with its cool, clean taste, makes it a very palatable drink, and a fantastic 50% ingredient of snakebite. But I do not want to drink it if – as the adverts suggests – I will become by association a great lumbering ox of a man, with more than a touch of the Munster in his gene pool, who cannot sup a pint of cider without a ridiculously drawn out ‘look at me’ sigh of refreshment. I mean, what was wrong with Strongbow’s famous two arrows that twanged into the bar at the end of the old ads? And they were actually a historical reference. Hands up who knew the cider was named after Richard ‘Strongbow’ de Clare, the 2nd Earl of Pembroke? If you can ignore the new adverts, Strongbow is a reliable tipple. You will become far more blurry and fighty (it’s 5.3% ABV), and tempered by recurrent and agonising bouts of acid reflux, but fear not, the advantages of Strongbow outweigh these piffling trifles. Twang. Twang. SG

STAROPRAMEN

Beer Book — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 12:42:21 +0000

InBev
Czech Republic, 5% ABV

The name of this Czech classic has been mispronounced by thirsty punters to bemused bar staff more times than I care to mention. Various attempts have been overheard, a favourite being ‘Stop Amen’! The beer’s tag line advertising itself as the Star of Prague is an easy way to remember pronunciation. (A direct translation of the name is in fact ‘Old Spring’.) Most folks these days ask for it as ‘Star’ and they are served one of the greatest pilsner beers the celebrated brewers of Bohemia have ever created. They’re not daft these Czechs; not only (in 1869) did they build the Staropramen Brewery slap bang in the middle of Prague’s industrial quarter ensuring a proximity to beer drinkers, they also have a term, riz, which means ‘just right’ in the context of a thirst quenching finish to a beer. Using Saatzer hops gives Czech pilsner its distinctive taste and Staropramen pilsner especially that cutting, hoppy delicious finish. In the 1930s, the Staropramen brewery was the largest in Czechoslovakia, but after the Second World War all Czechoslovakian breweries were nationalised under Soviet rule. When independence returned in 1989, Staropramen became part of the Prague Breweries group (Prazské Pivovary). Although now a worldwide brand owned by InBev, weirdly, until the late 1990s one of the few places ‘Star’ was available in the UK on draught was in the Rovers Return at the end of the Coronation Street Granada Studio tour! Now say after me, ‘Star-oh-Pramen please, Betty!’ GT

SKOL

Beer Book — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 12:40:37 +0000

Carlsberg UK
Denmark, 3.2% ABV

Skol! Skol! Skol! Skol! In distant times known as the 1980s, when Skol pillaged the nation’s pubs like so many of its Viking forbearers, an animated Hagar the Horrible invaded TV ad breaks with this catchy drinking song. In the ads, a rabble of Vikings bang on tables and slop pints of ale above their heads, chanting, ‘Skol! Skol! Skol! Skol!’ But Hagar’s dim-witted pal Eddie doesn’t join in. ‘Why aren’t you singing our drinking song?’ asks Hagar. Eddie pauses and replies, ‘Erm, I’ve forgotten the words.’ Boom, and indeed, boom. But the ads were popular staples of 80s TV, alongside those featuring the Smash martians, the Hamlet cigar smoker, and of course good old George the Hofmeister bear. Skol’s tagline, ‘Horribly Good Lager,’ is all too easy to make fun of, but the truth is that Skol, like 80s rivals Carling Black Label, Harp and Hofmeister, was horribly average. Fast forward to the noughties, and the only interesting thing about Skol is that it has survived. Since Allied-Lyons got out of the beer business, Skol has been owned by Carlsberg, brewer of, well, Carlsberg. So it is at least now owned by the UK arm of a Danish company. However, unsurprisingly given the huge promotional effort behind Carlsberg’s titular brand, or even that behind Tuborg, Skol has been somewhat neglected in the marketing department and its sales have subsequently slumped. Skol is a Scandanavian word meaning a toast or salute. So here’s to the UK’s second or third favourite Danish lager brand. Skol! Skol! Skol! Skol! PB

SOL

Beer Book — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 12:12:07 +0000

Coors
Mexico, ABV 4.5%

Like many others, I used to be a fan of Sol. A few years back, Sol was the new kid on the block; the future of bottled beer. It would be served in bars with a slice of lime in the bottle neck and was a favourite among the image-conscious who could afford to pose with it. They would be gawped at and ridiculed by those drinking pints of generic lager who’d pretend they didn’t secretly crave a bottle, all the while wishing they could cast away their pretensions and go back to basics. Sol was first brewed in Mexico by a German in 1899. No idea what he was doing making beer there, but he called it ‘El Sol’, Spanish for the sun. Since being the original poseur beer, it seems to have been overshadowed in recent times by the likes of Corona et al, mainly because they all taste nicer. Let’s face it, Sol is the kind of image drink where you get to the bottom of the bottle and wonder what you were thinking. No one was impressed and your palette lost all respect for you. So to save face, you start telling those around you that the idea behind the lime was to keep flies out back in the old country. That’s when one of your pint-quaffing mates tells you the real story; it was to mask the smell (and likely the taste). It isn’t too offensive, but it’s certainly on the wrong side of pleasant. SW