In praise of lager

I used to believe ales were intrinsically superior to lagers. More complex, more varied. Then again, I used to believe Newcastle might win the league in my lifetime. We all have silly ideas at one time or another.

A visit to Czechoslovakia set me right. About two mouthfuls into my first Pilsner Urquell. A glass or two of Branik 12º dark and I was a committed lager fan. Unpasteurised, air-pressure dispensed Czech lager was a revelation. Bland, fizzy and characterless? Not in the least. These beers were nothing like the pale, tasteless stuff I'd occasionally sipped in Britain, Belgium and - dare I say it - Germany.

This was quite a while ago. As the more astute of you may already have deduced from the references to Czechoslovakia and Branik 12º dark. I'm giving away my age here. I made the trip when I was 16. That's it, 16.

Later journeys to Franconia cemented my love of bottom-fermenting beers. When done well. Sadly, very little of it is brewed well. Try a beer that's been properly lagered for 3 months and you'll understand why such beers were a big hit at the end of the 19th century. Not bland, just with the rough edges knocked off. Watch how the CO2 comes out of solution. In thousands of minute bubbles. That's what a proper lager is like. Something that's barely had time to take off its coat in the lagering cellar will never be anything but a pale imitation.

Why am I suddenly singing lager's praises? A couple of reasons. In about an hour I'll be tucking into Schweinehaxe and slurping down a few half litres of the good stuff in Wildeman. It's German week there. When they up their already impressive range of Franconian treats. Hopefully at least one will be straight out of the cask. I know. I'm a jammy git. Yet another reason to live in Amsterdam.

I've already mentioned (probably several times) that I'm going on a tour of Franconia, Bohemia and Zoigl country. It starts on Thursday. A journey through lager's heartland. With someone else driving. Sounds like heaven to me.