Relying On Ritual: Why Coffee, Beer & Martinis are Better in America

It's a common perception that Americans aren't big on ritual. After all, this is the country that abandoned family dinnertime in favor of the TV dinner, then abandoned even that it favor of the drive-thru (and a plethora of meal options you could eat while walking down the street - hot pockets, anybody?)

But when it comes to things that count, Americans don't compromise. That's why there are certain things in this country that are generally infinitely superior to their equivalents in England.

Martini Cocktails

Considering the Martini Cocktail was invented in the Savoy Hotel, you'd think this would be something we Brits would have nailed; but we haven't.

In all my years in England, I only managed to get a decent Martini cocktail in three places - the Dorchester Hotel, the Hotel du Vin and some place on Park End Road, Oxford (my brother will have to help me out here.) Anywhere else, I was generally greeted with a blank look or a glass of lukewarm vermouth.

In America, however, you can go to the ropiest dive bar in the worst part of town and still be served a sublime Martini Cocktail.

American bartenders are just fluent in Martinis - and any of them can fix you a world class one in a few seconds. And what's so special about Martinis? The ritual.

A British Martini is an aberration. In America, they're elegant in their simplicity:

• Get an ice-cold cocktail glass from the freezer.
• Swill vermouth around the glass, then pour it out.
• Shake gin or vodka over ice and pour it in.
• Garnish with olives or lemon.

Job done.

Coffee

The reason American coffee is so good follows the same pattern. There's a ritual to making coffee that Americans embrace, but the Brits spurn.

That's why most Brits at home use that disgusting instant coffee stuff; saving making 'real' coffee for breakfast or after dinner.

In America, serving instant coffee is as alien a concept as gun control and atheism. Fresh ground beans, coffee filters and a peculator are household essentials.

There's more effort involved, but it's that same thing as with the Martini Cocktail - a ritual. One no American will compromise on.

Beer

And this ritualistic approach is why I firmly believe American beer is superior to British beer.

Even if the beer is inferior - which it increasingly commonly isn't - there's a standard ritual to serving it that makes the pourmasters of Guiness look like amateurs.

For a start, beer in America is served practically ice-cold; barely above freezing. Secondly, it's normally poured into a frosty, chilled pint glass or tankard pulled straight from the freezer.

Those two details are that subtle nod towards ritual that makes every pint in America an occasion; whereas the closest we come in the UK is the cynical marketing ploy of having a shamrock poured into the head of your stout.

(The French and Belgians are also very good at ritual- next time you have a beer in France, watch them 'cleanse the chalice' with a squirt of water from a specially-designed spray tap behind the bar.)

Ritual

We Brits often think we're so evolved; but like with the English language itself, there are facets of English culture and character that the Americans took, ran with and made their own; and now do far better than we do - despite being a nation that prides ourselves on that sort of thing.

What do you think? Do I have a point?

National IPA Day

August 4th isn't just President Obama's birthday (happy 50th, Barry!) It's also been chosen by a grassroots movement of beer lovers to be National I.P.A. Day.

India Pale Ale tends to be a rich amber

I.P.A., in case you were wondering, is a style of pale ale originally brewed in England during the 18th century, intended to be shipped overseas to the Indian colonies.

Because of the rigors of months of sea shipping, the beer needed to be very strong in alcohol, to preserve it, and rich in hops to maintain its flavor.

This light, but strong and flavorful beer soon found such favor in Britain that it never actually made it to its intended destination!

There are many India Pale Ales produced in England, but as I outlined in my controversial post Why American Beer is Superior to British Beer, its a style of brewing the yanks have truly made their own.

American I.P.A.s are brewed to appeal to an American palette - which requires a lighter, fizzier, more vibrant style of beer (closer to a lager than a bitter.) It's much easier and more enjoyable to drink.

In addition, because American beers tend to be served significantly colder (often only just above freezing) the amount of hops in the brew tend to be significantly higher so the flavor can penetrate the chill.

It gives brewers the opportunity to really create their own distinctive flavors and taste - from dry varieties like Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA, to fresher, sweeter and more rounded ales like my personal favorite, Samuel Adams Latitude 48.

One popular brand is Stones Ruination IPA, so called because it "ruins" your palette for other beers. While this is true for Ruination, it's also pretty much the best way to describe anybody's experience of drinking American IPA. Once you've acquired a taste for this hoppy variety, any other beer seems kind of limp by comparison.

So happy (or hoppy) IPA Day! If you can, make sure you lift a glass of India Pale Ale in celebration!

Why American Beer is superior to British Beer!

I know, that's fightin' talk...

The current belle of my bar - Yard's Thomas Jefferson's Tavern Ale

But as far as I'm concerned, I think there's a very valid argument to be made that America is the current master of beer brewing. Since the first day I set foot in the United States, I've been on a foamy journey of discovery that has never failed to impress me.

First off, though, let me set the record straight: When I'm talking about 'American Beer' I'm not referring to Budweiser, Miller or Schlitz - the post-war, mass-produced abomination that most people think of when they they hear the words 'American Beer.' That stuff is an insult to beer-making - a tasteless, watery concoction that uses cheap, subsidized rice to bolster the traditional recipe of water, barley, yeast and hops.

I'm talking about the microbreweries that exploded in the last decade or so - exploring the stunning array of beer-making possibilities and adding a uniquely American twist to traditional British, German and Belgian brewing techniques.

Here are my top three reasons for thinking American beer is better than British:

1. It's more flavorful. Americans like their beer cold - icy cold. For that reason, most brewers make singularly robust recipes that have sharp, hoppy notes that can be enjoyed even at frigid temperatures. By comparison, British beer - often served lukewarm - is fairly tasteless.
2. It's more refreshing. There's that cold thing again - but also a uniquely American twist on traditional recipes. British real ales tend to be flat. American palettes, weaned on Budweiser and other fizzy brews, still value the lightness and carbonation of lager and Pilsner. This has led many American brewers to combine the flavor and character of 'real' beer with the refreshing qualities of watered-down horse urine like Pabst Blue Ribbon and Natural Light.
3. It's got character. From my personal favorite, brewed from Thomas Jefferson's original recipe, to modern twists on Belgian Wheat Beer and a host of I.P.A.s, American brewers are willing to try all sorts of exciting things that British brewers simply aren't. It's indicative of the fundamental difference between the American and British mindsets. Brits hold tradition to be sacred - especially when they're talking about beer. Americans, on the other hand, are willing to pus the envelope - with often spectacular results.

Now I've stated my case, here are my top five picks of American beers:

• Yards Thomas Jefferson's Tavern Ale: Yards is a brewery in Philadelphia, and this is one of their 'Ales of the Revolution.' Taken from Thomas Jefferson's authentic period recipe, it's a classic English style ale just marinating in flavor. While it's fairly flat, like many British real ales, it compensates for that by being a real piece of history.
• Sam Adams Boston Lager: This wonderful lager was my first introduction to American beer, and for that reason remains my sentimental favorite. Rich and hoppy, with a deep amber color and the refreshing lightness of lager, it's the epitomizes everything I feel is superior about American beer.
• Brooklyn Lager: Made by a little brewery down in Brooklyn, NY, Brooklyn Lager is a winner in my books because it has many of the same traits as Sam Adams - it's light and refreshing, while packed with rich hoppy flavors and character.
• Sam Adams Noble Pils: A seasonal beer by the Boston Brewing Company, Noble Pils is a light Pilsner-style lager made with five different types of hop - making it packed with flavor, while deliciously light and refreshing. Unfortunately, it's not available all year round - since this is one of my favorites.
• Dale's Pale Ale: Made by a small brewery in Colorado, this flavorful pale ale is packed with hoppy taste and packs a punch at 6.5%. Not the cheapest of beers - especially considering it only comes in a can - it's nevertheless a real treat and one of my favorites.

Now I'm not sure if people will disagree with my assessment of American Ales - but I think there's a really solid case to be made for the inherent awesomeness of stateside brews over those of my homeland.

Why our President is a mensch...

President Obama made the mistake of weighing in on the arrest of Harvard scholar Henry Gates last week - but came up with a surprisingly pragmatic solution to the two men's disagreement:

"This is nothing that couldn't be worked out over a beer at the White House," the President admitted, when pressed about his thoughts on the renowned scholar's arrest and the media firestorm it ignited. The promise of beer wasn't an idle one - the three men are set to enjoy Budweiser and Blue Moon together later this week.

Considering that beer and diplomacy go hand in hand together (America was founded on fine ales from Philadelphia's City Tavern) I think it's an inspired suggestion.

Makin' History

So my best friend was visiting from England - and he's a history teacher.

Therefore, he had no excuse to duck out of a trip to Philadelphia to take in the sights. We loaded up the Lincoln and set out to visit some of the most important locations in American history.

I'd only been to Philadelphia once before - on business - so it was nice to return on a warm, spring day.

So nice, in fact, that I fell in love with the place!

Philadelphia is wonderful.

Admittedly, we only went to the Old City - the former stomping ground of John Adams, Ben Franklin and the rest of the founding fathers - but it was such a gentle place compared to the intensity of New York.

We started our day by visiting the Liberty Bell - an American symbol of freedom and independence. This massive bell was originally forged in Whitechapel, London, and brought over to ring out from the Pennsylvania State Legislature building (what's now Independence Hall.)

Ironically, this bell cracked the first time it was rung out - and cracked twice more after being reforged by local iron workers. Following that, it was retired from duty before it literally rung itself to pieces!


The Liberty Bell is something of an odd symbol of freedom - after all, it's 'freedom' with an enormous great crack down the middle. I find that oddly symbolic - mirroring some of the 'cracks' in the notion of American freedom (like the slavery which existed even while Thomas Jefferson penned the famous line 'all men are created equal.')

Next, we booked 'tickets' for the tour of Independence Hall.


Rather annoyingly, these are 'timed' so you have a window of opportunity to see the birthplace of the American nation. Ours was during the afternoon, so during the wait we went on a Philly-institution - the 'duck' tour!

The Philly Ducks are amphibious tour-vessels that lead tourists around town and even into the Delaware River itself! We had a great time - our host (who was really called 'Betsy Ross') was hysterical.

I'm not sure how much history we learned, but it was a lot of fun and we got free duck calls that Baby Boozer went crazy for when I got home.

The 'ducks' are a great way to get the lay of the land - my friend and I spotted where we planned to go for lunch from the back of our trusty steed!


After returning to dry land, we headed back to Independence Hall (and deftly avoided the line with our timed tickets.)


Considering that this redbrick building was the birthplace of modern democracy, it's remarkably unremarkable. Originally, the building housed the Pennsylvania assembly, supreme court and governor's offices. When the Continental Congress formed, made up of representatives from all 13 colonies, the Pennsylvanians were moved upstairs and the assembly room was turned over to matters of American business.

The room's been faithfully preserved - even down to the original seat George Washington rested his derriere on. There's a wonderful, tangible sensation of history there - and it really makes you think about the modest origins of the now-legendary 'Founding Fathers.'


At this point, lunch was the order of the day - and in keeping with colonial spirit, we crossed the mall to the famous 'City Tavern.'

This is the same tavern that Jefferson, Washington and the others frequented - John Adams described it as 'the most genteel in Philadelphia.' To honor their old patrons, the City Tavern still serves colonial food in authentic costume - and you can wash it down with beer brewed from period recipes.

I chose a tasting platter to sample with my schnitzel and quaffed Washington's porter, Jefferson's ale (which was delicious) and Hamilton's pilsner. Ben Franklin's unique ale also made it onto the taste test, but lost points because of the overwhelming taste of rosemary (making the beer somewhat like drinking roast lamb.)


Finally, we strolled uptown to Christ Church, the episcopal church where Betsy Ross, George Washington and John Adams attended services. It's a beautiful old building (and, built in 1744, only three years older than the Anglican church we attend here in New Jersey.)

Although there were no services going on, we did get to sit in the same pew as Washington and Adams - which was pretty humbling. It's amazing to think that these legendary American figures walked the same tiles as we did that day...


That concluded our little day-trip to Philadelphia - but it was wonderful. A beautiful city, distinctly different from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan.

I particularly enjoyed the way the Philadelphians had embraced their history. The visitor's center, where we parked, was beautiful and extremely easy to find and get to. The tickets to the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall were free - practically unheard of in Europe (I'm still smarting from paying nearly £20 to take a friend around Westminster Abbey.)

What made it really special was the love and enthusiasm for the city. From the Park Rangers at the visitor's center to the staff at Christ Church, everybody loved talking about the place, it's history and what it meant to them. Whereas New York garners a hard-edged loyalty amongst it's residents, there's something earnest about the love people have for Philadelphia.

A wonderful day in a wonderful city - I can't wait to return!

Obama has a beer. America panics.

"The president is the president 24 hours a day. I don't think he should drink on the job."

That's the opinion of Louisiana woman, after seeing pictures of President Obama enjoying a cold one while court side at a basketball game.

"People are losing 5, 10, 20 thousand dollars a day in the stock market," another woman complained, "and he's sitting there drinking a beer!"

Thanks to WWL down in New Orleans for these zingers.

As for Obama and his beer? Good for him, I say. For the last eight years, we've had a teetotal moralist in the White House and look how that turned out.

It just goes to show, however, that people's morality is deeply screwed up. We're in the midst of a global recession, American troops are dying in foriegn deserts and we're chocking the world with greenhouse gases... Yet it's Obama's beer that sparks distress and condemnation.

Just trying to get my head around that makes me want a beer myself.

Home Brew

Rome wasn't built in a day. Nor was the Boston Beer Company.

Nevertheless, my second consecutive attempt at beer brewing is a reluctant success.

The first batch? Which I brewed for Christmas 2007? It was good stuff - cloudly, but with good flavour and richness.

The second lot of 'American lager' seems to have stuck closely to the title and emerged as a yellow beer that tastes surprisingly limp - but no more so than Budweiser or Miller Lite.

This time around, I used Poland Spring water rather than New Jersey's mains offering and that hasn't actually helped. The first batch (chlorinated to within an inch of it's life) seemed to keep more of the flavour of the beer mix.

But this batch might taste weird, but it isn't bad. It isn't bad at all.

Which is good, really, since I've brewed 20 pints of it!

Hamsterbrau is back!

This February, my sister-in-law kindly gave me The Beer Machine - a brewing kit to make delicious foamy beer in the comfort of your home.

I made two batches with this machine and although I didn't get the science quite right, the first match was utterly delicious (if a bit cloudy.)

The major problem I ran into was getting the brew cold enough for the all important 'chill filtering' which turns your cloudy beer into delicious, amber nectar.

In the run up to Christmas, it's time to try again. Tina gave me my Christmas present early so we'd (in theory) have delicious beer to share come Christmas morning (the breakfast of champions.)

So Operation Hamsterbrau was back in the running.


Why Hamsterbrau, you might ask.

Well, for almost three years, atop the corner cupboard in our living room was a mighty monstrosity know as Hamstopolis. This was home to our loving hamster Poppit.

Her passing away coincided with the arrival of the Beer Machine and since it looked quite similar to Poppit's plastic home, I thought it was a fitting tribute to name the beer after her.

And I'm a sucker for tradition...

So last night, I set up the brewery again and got to work (Tina pointed out that the fermenting beer, which is very much alive, is a pet in itself, so I should stop bitching about getting a puppy.)

The Beer Machine is an awesome bit of kit. Although it's scoffed at by more traditional home brewers, it produces delicious results in about ten days and the beer itself is a lot closer to the lagers and pale ales louts like me like to quaff.

I like it transparent, I like it cold and I like it fizzy. Hops heated in a bathtub and fermented in a barrel tend to be that lukewarm, bitter glub that has earned us Brits such a bad beer reputation from around the world.

The first step is to totally sanitise and assemble the Beer Machine itself. This isn't as easy as it looks. In order to assemble the two halves of the 'keg,' it's necessary to fit a rubber seal that is pretty inflexible unless you soak it in boiling hot water first.

Once the keg's assembled, you need to rinse it out with bleach and water (not washing up liquid) and then run water through the entire assembly until it's sterile and ready for action.

Surprisingly, the manufacturers of The Beer Machine recommend brewing with chlorinated tap water, rather than spring. This is because the chlorine ensures the water is sterile before the brewing begins.

I might try with spring water with my second batch, but for the first brew of Golden American Lager, I followed the instructions to the letter.

You add the 'beer mix' to about three gallons of water and then top it off with yeast. Finally, you seal the entire unit and leave it at room temperature (about 70 degrees) for three to five days for the initial fermentation to begin.

There's a little gauge on the top of The Beer Machine which shows you how the pressure is in the keg. As the fermentation takes place, the yeast generates CO2 (the stuff that makes beer fizzy) and you can see the gauge slowly climb.

After a quick taste test (sweet beer indicates the process isn't quite complete) the whole operation needs to be moved to the refrigerator, where the 'cold fermentation' will chill filter your beer and turn it from cloudy gunk into crystal clear, amber nectar.

This is what I got wrong in England - British fridges are simply not big enough. Fortunately our American monstrosity is large enough to contain the beer machine and the rest of our weekly shopping.

If it's not cold enough, the beer's still drinkable. It's just not that beautiful, clear amber colour that we lager louts like to quaff.

In any event, the process was begun last night and Poppitstein Hamsterbrau is undergoing it's initial fermentation. On Sunday night, she'll be moved to the fridge and then, give or take a few days, the delicious brew will be ready for Christmas.

If chilled and properly pressurized, the beer itself lasts a whopping three months... In theory. It's very doubtful it'll last that long with me anywhere near.

Stand by for further news.

Insert Random Aliteration Featuring the word 'Bootleg' Here

To mark the finish of the epic Bootleg Boys (the writing of it was epic - the book's not) I have decided to produce a brief Frequently Asked Questions fact sheet.

What exactly is the Bootleg Boys?

It's an adventure story! Or crime/adventure. Or something like that.

What's it all about, Alfie?

Did you know 250 lorries and vans cross the English channel every single day STUFFED with bootlegged beer, wine, spirits and cigarettes?

With taxes on beer, for example, being just one SEVENTH in France of what they are in England, there's a lot of money to be made smuggling it - and a lot of unscrupulous types trying to make a profit!

So that's the setting. Big lorries. Bootleg Beer and some unscrupulous types. But unlike previous stories, it's not Eddy who gets on the wrong side of one of these unscrupulous types this time around. They get on the wrong side of Eddy.

What follows is something VERY ROUGHLY like The Italian Job, except with beer instead of gold bricks.

Okay, okay. Adventure Eddy's been to Paris, New York, Germany and Cornwall. Where exactly does THIS story fit in with whatever 'Eddy' continuity there is?

Nice and simply. It's set straight after the last book, Adventure Eddy.

If you're into comic books, you'll have heard of the term 'reboot.' It's a bit like what EON films did in that last Bond movie, Casino Royale. You 're imagine' the origins of favourite characters.

That's what I did with Adventure Eddy - going right back to square one and explaining who Eddy was and how he earned the title Adventure Eddy. Bootleg Boys follows straight on from that - although it's a stand alone book and you don't need to have read 'Adventure Eddy' to understand it.

Wait a second! I thought Eddy lived in Oxford, not Winchester!

Eddy's been adventuring for almost fifteen years now! He's 'lived' in London, Plymouth, Tavistock AND Oxford. But in the reboot, he's moved to Winchester.

And who's Pranay Raj? Whatever happened to Angus Connelly?

Angus was Eddy's oldest and most loyal friend. He was also the dullest, dreariest character in the series. Eddy needs somebody to bounce ideas off, but who said that person can't have his own personality too? Streetwise, unscrupulous Pranay walked right onto the page, fully formed, and quickly booted Angus out of the picture. It's a bit like how Mary Jane Watson pushed Gwen Stacy CLEAN out of the picture in the old Spiderman comic books (no surprise, really. Mary Jane was a ginger and they always come out on top.)

Woah, woah, woah! In Adventure Eddy, his stonking great Firebird is clearly described as having 'pop up headlights' and a five litre engine. Now, suddenly, it's got a 6.6 litre and a four in the floor. How do you explain that?

Ian Fleming used to do it all the time. James Bond's beautiful Bentley would be one car in one book and morph mysteriously into another in the second.

It's a bit like how Felix Leiter, who had his arm and leg chewed off by a shark in Live and Let Die, magically regrew one limb per book and by the time The Man With The Golden Gun wheeled around, his only handicap was a hook for a hand.

It's called creative expression or something. 'Ret-conning,' as the comic masters have titled the phenomenon.

But yes, well spotted. Eddy's Firebird magically and mysteriously changes from a 'Knight Rider' style third-generation Pontiac Firebird into a 'Smokey and the Bandit' style second-generation Firebird during the gap between Adventure Eddy and Bootleg Boys.

But hang on! It still has a 'perspex book lid' and Pranay still refers to it as 'Knight Rider.' What gives?

Well, I know the car has morphed. You know the car has morphed. But nobody told the car.

So are you advocating skirting Britain's tough Customs and Excise regulations via Eddy's activities in Bootleg Boys?

No! not at all! In fact, read the book and you might just see it all as a twisted morality tale in which everybody gets their just deserts.

Will there be sex and violence?

Not really. My parents read might read it! But there's plenty of romance, a bloodthirsty quest for vengeance and enough perilous situations for even Eddy to get nervous.

And where can I read it?

Publication date is set for November 1st! Barring, of course, sudden and horrific realisation that it's crap. I'll even post a link when the time comes!

The Beer Machine: Brewing your own beer...

A short while ago, D-Mo the production guru gave me Brewzer - a small brewing kit to produce home-brewed beer.

It took 20 days and the final product was pretty damn good - a standard English bitter served room temperature, with no carbonation.

Unfortunately, that batch got ruined when Tina decided to do a bit of furniture moving and poured the contents of the brewery (which my brother said looked like a bong) into bottles. Sediment and all. Like real ale, the slightest disturbance makes the beer cloudy and basically ruins it. We ended with four litres of cloudy gunk.

But the brewing bug had bit me - and recently Natalie, my sister in law, gave us the most amazing gift: The Beer Machine.

The Beer Machine takes home brewing to an entirely new level. A sealed unit, it allows you to brew top-notch quality beer, carbonated and malty just like the top quality American micro brews. And make no mistake - Germany had better be on the lookout for the outstanding micro brews coming out of the USA. Their national brew might be Budweiser (or, as the European Union has demanded it be called, Bud) but they make some fantastic beers.

The Beer Machine looks like a Rotostack, to be honest, so it was a fitting tribute to Hamster than her little house was replaced with a similar looking bit of kit. Included in the Beer Machine kit Natalie had sent us was a back of Red Canadian Lager beer mix and yeast, which we decided would be called Hamsterbrau when it was ready.

It's very simple to do.

First off, you have to assemble the machine. It's tougher than it looks, because you have to make sure all the rubber seals and gaskets are airtight, by filling it up with water and then carbonating it.

Afterwards, the machine is bleached and rinsed and the beer mix is sloshed in. Finally, the yeast is added and the whole thing is sealed up.

For the next five to seven days, the beer machine lived in our living room. Inside the plastic casing, the yeast got to work fermenting my malty hops and creating our beer.

This is where it starts to get a bit difficult.

Because once the beer has fermented, it needs to be chilled. This caused a few mistakes on my part - not least of which was not having a fridge big enough for the Beer Machine!

After five days, I moved the machine out to the back yard, which was cold enough to be a fridge (in theory.) I left the Hamsterbrau for the end of the official cycle and five days later, sampled it.

Bleugh. The beer was horrible. Worse than that, it was cloudy and smelt rank.

I was heartbroken, because I figured I'd done something wrong and ruined the entire batch. But after doing lots of research, I discovered that my mistake had been chilling the beer before the fermentation cycle was entirely finished. That's why the beer tasted sickly sweet.

I popped Hamsterbrau back inside for another 48 hours and something miraculous happened. The sickly sweet beer turned into a robust, hoppy nectar.

It was still totally cloudy, but it tasted great. So I popped it outside again to chill and hopefully clear. But it didn't.

Nope, the beer wasn't cold enough, so despite it being delicious, Hamsterbrau needed to chill to hopefully develop that crystal clarity that makes less rodenty beers so appealing.

The problem was, we didn't have a fridge big enough.

Sarcastically, I said to Tina: "Listen, we have to take EVERYTHING out of our fridge so I can put the beer in it to chill."

And without batting an eyelid, she said: "Sure."

So that confirmed two things. Firstly, that Tina is the coolest and most understanding wife a Brewmiester like me could have. And, secondly, that half of the shit in your fridge you don't really need. We discovered Mozzarella that looked more like Gorgonzola.

And this is what the fridge looks like now:

"Oi, Mister! Can I have our ball back?"

For the first time EVER in my life, a football flew through the air and landed in our back yard (narrowly avoiding our Rolskibrau, chillin' in it's final fermentation out in the winter chill.)

A little boy came up to the fence and said: "Oi! Mister! Can I have my ball back?"

I felt officially OLD.

Why so small?

Is it just me, or are French beer cans getting smaller?

With Kronenbourg 1664 releasing a 33ml can, you get as much beer for your Euro as you would Coca Cola.

In England, Stella Artois have introduced the aluminium 'demi...'

250ml - a French 'half' - in a can costing 75% of it's fatter brother.

I've grown used to the French stinginess concerning their delicious lager. If you go to a cafe and order 'une biere,' you end up with a pathetic 'demi,' which is barely enough to quench any man's thirst. Only if you order 'un baron' do you get a real measure. A germanic litre in a glass that you can barely hold in one hand.

I'm worried.

The French have already got us Brits beat in the moderation stakes because their youth isn't out on a Friday night getting into fights, committing casual sexual assaults or vomiting in the bushes. All we need now is for them to be drinking less than us and Britain is well and truly screwed.

Stand up, France. Stand up for your 50cl steins and your barons. Stand up for hot days and cool, frothy nectar than pours down our throats like bubbly honey.