It’s said that a glass of beer can turn any person into a philosopher. Our recent homebrew club social illustrates this perfectly. An evening which witnessed conversation traverse topics from country wines to luxury watches and guitar scams, to dating woes, and tripping up our future selves by lacking method in the present.

It all started with foraging. With two new faces we were keen to hear about what was in their fermenters. Photos of demijohns bubbling with wines made with sloes and berries from the Guelder rose* were passed around the table. Other phones were discreetly used to look up Guelder rose, and I had to admit my ignorance of sloes being suitable for anything other than flavouring gin, despite being no stranger to a prickly blackthorn come autumn. A bit of botanising among my bookshelf did later reveal a sloe wine recipe in C.J.J. Berry’s First Steps in Winemaking, where 250g of raisins are added to equal quantities (1.5 kg) of sloes and sugar. One to try next season!

The conversation ambled on from hedgerow wines to two further important points. The first arose from Tony’s delight on discovering a recipe his past self had conscientiously recorded. Why don’t we do this more often to help our future selves? OK, I’m sure you are probably more methodical in your brew habits than some of us. But it’s an easily translatable notion. Why did my past self insist on drinking all that beer the night before my nephew’s sixth birthday party? Why didn’t I label my kegs so that my future self didn’t joyfully crack one open, only to discover it full of sanitising solution?

Then came the question, can a brew be classed as a craft beer if sold in a mega multipack? Much beard-stroking ensued. What prompted this was the comparison of BrewDog’s Black Heart Draught Stout to the pints of Guinness which sat in front of a couple of us. Though some might argue a more than tenuous association between BrewDog and the term ‘craft beer’; but that’s a debate for another day. I haven’t tried BrewDog’s latest trick, but I can trumpet the praise of the homebrew Oatmeal Nitro Stout which was handed out by one of our members. 

The coincidence of having a homebrew stout to sample at the same time as a glass of commercial stout turned into a very useful exercise. One that I can recommend to test your tasting skills between different sub styles, as well as critiquing your own brew. I’ll be the first to admit a bias towards a homebrew in this case, and I didn’t do a blind taste, but when comparing the mainstream black stuff to the homebrew I found the latter to be far superior. The addition of oatmeal to the homebrew Stout brought a fuller mouthfeel than the Guinness, which felt meagre in comparison. The rich elegant notes of chocolate and coffee in the homebrew outshone the everyday expected roastiness of the Guinness. 

Now onto some more beard-stroking: what does make a good beer? Whether it adheres to the BJCP guidelines of that style, or whether the person tasting it likes it? And can you rate a brew as ‘a good beer’ if you don’t like it? Or should a good beer make you enjoy it, even if you don’t usually like that style? These are some of the questions which have come up while Gareth and I have been planning the 2024 MASHED! Homebrew Tournament. My metaphorical beard is now bare from the pondering; Gareth’s actual beard remains in excellent form - thanks to, I suspect, decades of pub dialogue on the subject. But we’ve boiled it down to this: may the best beer win. The philosophy being that fate will throw you your opponent, but if your beer is first-class, regardless of its origins and adherence to a style, it will come out on top. Something purists may disagree with. But, we hope, something that will be embraced by those looking for a load of fun and the thrill of a knock out competition. 

What we can agree on, perhaps, is the idea that it’s not actually about the beer. Whether we’re having a quick pint with a mate, a homebrew club meet, or a full blown homebrewing tournament, the brew is just a vehicle. A conduit for our shared human experience. Our collective mass of past, present and future selves welded together in a united sense of community and friendship. Or just any excuse for a good time…