Plenty of harrumphing going on at the moment as it's reported that James Bond will be drinking Heineken in Skyfall, the next instalment of the interminable franchise.

Lest we forget:

- Product placement has been ever present in the world of Bond, both books and films.
- Heineken have been involved with the Bond franchise for fifteen years.
- Bond does actually drink beer in the novels.

Let's take those one at a time.

It may not have been an explicit tactic of Ian Fleming to use the name of luxury goods in his novels for the purposes of marketing placement or financial reward. He may have just been following the lead of Dennis Wheatley in that regard. Fleming certainly followed Wheatley's work in many ways. But product placement has been ever-present in the Bond movie adaptations and franchised scripts. It makes money for the film company. Films cost money to make. Simple maths.

Placement seems to have grown at a pace during the Pierce Brosnan / Daniel Craig era. Heineken have been involved in five films so far and have great plans for Skyfall, including Craig's direct involvement. As Alexis Nasard, Chief Commercial Officer of Heineken says so eloquently; "We are confident our activation plan will ignite the conversation with our consumers and film viewers".

But Bond and beer? That can't be right?

Wrong.

I had vague memories of Bond drinking beer on the odd occasion; thankfully, someone has already documented the where-and-what's. Step forward Jay Brooks, who wrote about this back in 2006 when there was a similar kerfuffle over the reports of Bond to drink Heineken in Casino Royale.

- Miller High Life in Saratoga, Diamonds Are Forever
- Löwenbräu in Geneva, Goldfinger
- Red Stripe in Jamaica, The Man With The Golden Gun
- Franziskaner (four steins, no less) in Munich, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

So Bond is not only a beer drinker but also a lager drinker.

Would he be a Heineken drinker, though? It seems that he prefers to drink something local/regional to wherever he is at the time. But Heineken is a global brand and Bond is a global player.

Frankly if I'd spent the day killing double agents by the most circuitous method possible followed by a bout of athletic shagging, I'd rather reach for a lager than a Martini.

And as far as I know, the rumours that previous films are to be re-made with a beery angle are false. So there will be no Double Diamonds Are Forever, The Man With The Golden Ale nor For Your IPAs Only... >

I looked up at the TV last night only because someone was murdering 'A Wondrous Place'.

For about thirty seconds, the moodily-lit advert ran through a gamut of slo-mo clichés. Aftershave, perhaps? Teeth whitening? Haemorrhoid cream? Nope; Carling.

Gone are the matey larks of previous campaigns This re-branding seems to be aiming for Mr Metrosexual. Hard on its heels is the announcement that Molson Coors are dropping sponsorship of the Football League Cup after what seems an eternity (fourteen years is a long time in football. Especially for Nottingham Forest).

Meanwhile, Carslberg are doing what Carslberg do best; viral campaigning. The Belgium Bikers video is spreading like chlamydia during fresher's week.

Heineken already have the prancing-man commercial to persuade us that lager is A Lot More Sophisticated Than Wot You Thought. An advert, incidentally, that was the subject of a complaint to the Advertising Standards Authority. The complainant being Molson Coors. Who had previously been the subject of another complaint over a Carling advert. The complainant being Heineken. I look forward to both beverages being served in black pots / kettles in the near future.

Even Foster's have toned down the Ozzy banter of late. And featured Holly Vallance in their adverts. Good call?

In their own, very different, ways the message seems to be:

Lager isn't scary any more.

But can even the might of global brewers and fancy ad campaigns divorce the words lager and lout from the common lexicon of beer? My hunch is we'll have to suffer more than a few moody adverts with piss-poor cover versions in the not-too distant future.


I hope the cartoonist Gareth Plumb doesn't mind the reproduction of his lout. >

The bun must be toasted. The beef must be medium. The gherkins must be crispy.

The salad must be on the side. The cheese must be stringy. The fries must be crispy.

Bacon, tomato, mayonnaise: optional.

And the beer - has to be lager.

I usually give little thought to beer & food matching - drink what you like, they are no rules - except for the Cardinal Rule of beer & food matching. Burgers taste better with lager.

No over-sickly malts to get stuck in your clack. No over-powering hops that nuke your palate.

Just a long, tall pint of something slightly flavoured and slightly fizzy. That makes you burp gherkin all over your nearest & dearest.

This week's burgering about has been accompanied by Beck's (at home, from Co-op, as it was the cheapest palatable lager on offer) and Stella (at the golf club, as it was, er, what I've been drinking there for seventeen years). In the past it's been Brooklyn or Meantime or Jever but I'm convinced the brand is not important. The sheer slightness of lager, the just-so flavour and steady carbonation, is what turns even an average burger into the breakfast of champions.


I would have included a picture of the world's biggest handburger but it made me gag just looking at it. So, instead, I mercilessly ripped off a picture of White Castle fries that, as any Beastie Boys fan knows, only come in one size. But I still wonder why... >

Leicester is afforded special status in the Reluctant Scooping scheme of topering. It's where I drank my first doppelbock. My first Dogfish Head. It always offered a heady mix of ye olde traditional pubs and somewhat-leftfield bars. But it's been a couple of years since I was last in town. Does Leicester still love its beer? There was only one way to find out...

The Pub

Casks on offer: 12-ish
Potential scoops: 6-ish
Keg beer on offer: 12-ish?
Potential scoops: 2
Scoops drank: 0
Favourites drank: 1 (Brewdog 77, two pints)

Yes. It really is called The Pub. Before the owners moved across New Walk, their former bar (Out Of The Vaults / Vin IV) often served two beauties by Beowulf - Finn's Hall Porter and Dragon Smoke Stout. They're the beers I'd have plumped for if my eye had been on cask. But I didn't even look at the handpulls. Instead, I fancied something cool and just-so-carbonated as a thirst slaker on this sunny Sunday. Brewdog 77 lager hit the spot. So much so that when alcofrolicchap turned up, I had another pint of it.

The Pub is one of those long, narrow bars that looks and feels cool in an almost-trying-too-hard kind of way. I was content to go sit out in the sun, drink lager and watch the world amble by. I'll revisit their cask offering one day.


The Globe

Casks on offer: 4. Possibly.
Potential scoops: 1
Actual scoops: 0
Favorites drank: 1 (Everards Sunchaser, one pint)

I've always enjoyed visiting this multi-room, often-bustling pub in the heart of the city. Then again, I've always enjoyed picking lint out of my navel and flicking it at people on the bus. I don't come here for the banter by the 'characters' at the bar (read: shouting Sex Pistols lyrics with the emphasis firmly on the last syllable of "Pretty Vacant". I don't come here for a mediocre guest beer (lots of pumpclips of interesting ones on the wall, never seen them on when I've visited). I come here for a damn fine pint of Everards.

Sunchaser was the right side of cool - maybe it was the 'extra cold' version? It certainly felt more-than-just-cellar cold. Great condition, in its branded glass. Good beer, well presented. Whereas alcofrolicchap's Burton Bridge Spring Ale seemed to have sprung itself flat somewhat.


Criterion

Casks on offer: difficult to tell
Potential scoops: ?!?
Keg on offer: six-ish
Actual scoops: 0
Favorites drank: 2: (Punk IPA, one pint; Augustiner Edelstoff, 500ml bottle)

The problem with the Criterion? It's like bumping into an ex-girlfriend; you both drifted apart, you both met someone new, now she's no longer the bubbly bundle of fun you once loved but slightly jaded and world-weary. You want to put your arm round her and chat about the old times but you both know it won't cheer either of you up.

This used to be my favourite pub in the city; interesting casks well kept, odd keg offerings at a time when there wasn't so much variety knocking around as there is today, a chunky bottle menu that became the syllabus for my Belgian beer education (intermediate level). Now the place seems to be quieter, the casks more predictable, the bottles scarcer. Alcofrolic and I enjoyed the last pints of the kegged Punk and some bottled Edelstoff outside by the giddy vista of the ring road. And I felt wistfully bitter...


The Font

Casks on offer: four
Potential scoops: none
Keg on offer: some-ish
Actual scoops: 1 (Stella Black)
Favorites drank: 1 (Stella Artois)

There's only two reasons we visited this bright and breezy student-centric bar. Hand-cut chips. And Stella Black.

The chips were chunky, hot and really potatoey. The Stella Black was a car-crash in a chalice. Worse thing I've had in my mouth since I chewed a verruca. I had to have a pint of, er, 'normal' Stella to get the syrupy gloop taste out of my mouth.

(Now is not the time nor place to discuss why Black is so execrable or why I'm still drinking Stella Artois. That time will be after I've had six pints of the latter one afternoon and feel like mouthing off ).


Swan and Rushes

Casks on offer: about eight
Potential scoops: some
Keg on offer: probably
Actual scoops: 1 (Dupont Monk's Stout)
Favorites drank: 2 (Orval, Cantillon Vigneronne)

One fine day, I will make the Swan and Rushes my first port of call when in Leicester. I will have a game of bar billiards, chew the fat with the bar staff and sip an Orval at a leisurely pace. Today, however, it was the usual last-pub-mad-dash.

An Orval slipped down quicker than a Manchester United striker in the penalty area. I think I asked alcofrolicchap how quick he could drink gueuze. A bottle of Cantillon Vigneronne was procured and drained in short order. That's all the beer I was here for. And well tasty they were, too. Though I did then find the time for a Monk's Stout by Dupont; it seemed a fairly plain-Jane brew, though to be fair my tastebuds had just been wrapped round the back of my ears by the Cantillon.

So here's another pub that seen some better days. It's been on and off the market for years and would really benefit from a period of stability. Having said that, it's got a well-worn-slipper feel about it, comfy and inviting. And the staff are great - knowledgeable, interested, amiable. The barmaid that night, Erica, was keen to try the Vigneronne and happy to chat about geuze. You just don't get that in many other places.

Results

Scoops: 2
Favourites: 7
Verdict: Really Very Reluctant Scooping.
Beer of the day: Orval. Obviously.

There's still plenty of good beer to be found in Leicester. It's just a rather subdued scene. Someone needs to give the place a swift kick up the victuals.

Perhaps a Leicester Tap, anyone...? >

I rarely drink just one pint of lager. A bottle straight from the fridge after mowing the summer lawns is followed by another straight after. A half-time pint sinks quickly; a second can then be sneaked in. Club lunches, punctuated by burgers and big-screen sports, have several pints of Samlesbury's finest as their narrative.

So I don't just look for drinkability in a lager. I look - nay, demand - sessionability. It still has to be something crisp, something refreshing, something just the right side of not-too-gassy. But is has to be something I can carry on supping.

When I heard that Thornbridge were brewing a lager, I was intrigued and concerned in equal measure. Intrigued because Maurizio Folli of Birrificio Italiano was collaborating and the beer would be a variant of their Extra Hop Pilsner. Concerned because the Thornbridgers may give into temptation and pack the pils too full of hops.

The result? Uncertainty. Emerging from its long lagering period, Thornbridge Italia is a conundrum in a bottle. Looks great; pale lemon with a pillowy billowing head. Then that aroma - herb garden. Bouquet garni. Almost overpowering. Which carries through into the flavour - some soft lemony biscuit that's crushed underfoot by herbal size-nines.

Let's be clear here. Italia is a well-crafted, flavoursome beer. I'd happily enjoy a pint and then move on. But I don't think I could manage another, nevermind a session.

Should a lager have too much obvious, up-front flavour? Am I about to declare that, in a pils, I'm actually looking for 'less is more'?

There's my uncertainty. I think I may need to chew over that one. Perhaps I need to find Italia on draught and see how a session develops...


Thanks to Thornbridge for the bottle. >

#4: Good lager is where you find it

You’ve just walked from one end of the National Exhibition Centre to the other, both halves seemingly in different postcodes. You’ve got a throat dryer than the Atacama. You’ve free access to a fridge chock full of beers – Trappist ales, Belgian bruins, double IPAs. What do you satiate that itching thirst with?

Lager, of course.

Nothing – and I do mean nothing – is as refreshing as a cold lager on a parched palate. Those flavours you’d usually savour in a hoppy beer would be too sticky. Maltiness would just clag the gap left where your tonsils were whipped out. You need something crisp, something cold.

We were pouring samples of two great lagers. Moritz is a clean, soft Spanish pils sprinkled with Saaz. Rothaus Tannenzäpfle is a South German pils with echoes of pine needles; there’s a herbal edge to its sweet malt base. I loved them both and drank them deeply all day.

There’s an awful lot of shit lager in the world. But there’s some well made, carefully crafted, thoroughly enjoyable examples out there too.

Remember – pils is not a four-letter word. >

I’m a thirsty kind of guy. Not just for the old malt-and-hop-wash, but for beer knowledge. I’m trying to cram in experience at all ends of the industry; one thing I’d never done was work the counter of a trade stand at an exhibition. So when the BBC Good Food Show and 'Tasting Beers Live' rolled into the National Exhibition Centre, with my good friends at beermerchants in attendance, I jumped at the chance to be a bar monkey for the weekend.


The ‘Tasting Beers Live’ side of the show took place in its own area, right at the arse end of the arena. I was sceptical that many would stumble across it, or that it would end up becoming a ‘man-creche’ of blokes desperate to escape from their wife’s wisteria habit. But business was brisk; when we ran tastings the queues soon formed, at other times there was always someone who wanted to stop and chat about the beers.

On the upside, it was great to put good beer into people’s hands and see them get a real kick of tasting something that was new to them – which was a darn site tastier to many they’d tried before. The range of beers by Viven, the truly-fruity Mongozo beers, classic European lagers and pils, all were gratefully received and sampled eagerly.

The only downside was a perception, re-inforced by physical segregation, that beer tasting had to be separate from good food. Yes, there was a beer-and-food stand. Yes, Richard Fox did a sterling job using his beers (and ours) in cooking a range of stunning dishes. But because the sampling stalls were roped off from the main event, perhaps partly driven by licensing restrictions, perhaps to channel customers into paying £7 for a glass and tokens, it seemed like beer was taking itself too seriously and consciously setting itself apart from the rest of the show. For all the exhibitors in there, nothing could have been further from the truth.

I went there for the experience and, boy, there was plenty to be had.. I’ll share some of those with you throughout this week.. In the meantime, huge thanks to beermerchants for letting me loose on the unsuspecting public and props to Sean for not getting too hacked off when I sprayed Mongozo Coconut over him. For the third time. At least we smelt like we’d been on a spa trip, not a beer exhibition ;-) >

It's not the bastard son of Dean Friedman. It's the too-close country cousin of Hop Rocker. Cult Lager took what Hop Rocker started and buggered it up. Gone are the delicate flowers. Instead we have cardboardy malts. All rather wet, if you know what I mean (if you don't , mail me and I'll send you a diagram). Some redeeming and unexpected spice - my tasting was rather tardy in respect to its best before date, which may explain that.

But when it warmed a little, there was a four-minute window when the sweetness and light malt almost worked. Before it sluiced off down the path and joined the crap supermarket lager brigade, busy scrawling obscenities on the bins with marker pens.

Cult doesn't give lager a bad name. But it does make inappropriate gestures. >

It's Sunday. Fairly warm. I've been working up a sweat in the garden. Freshly showered, there's only one thing on my mind for satiating my desires. And there they are, chilling in the kitchen. A couple of Slags.

I'm not fussy this afternoon. Dripping wet with a bit of body will do me fine. And these are fine - a bit bubblegum around the edges but they go down easily. Quite sweet, actually.

They were procured for me in the back of a white van by Phil from beermerchants.com. Who, if HM Customs read this, will probably get a flashlight shoved up his back passage the next time he rolls through Dover. Sorry, Phil.

Slag is, indeed, a pale lager from Belgium's Brouwerij Slaghmuylder. I'll be honest, the tacky-chewy saccharine tang doesn't do much for me. Far more impressive was Klug, a crisp German pils. And I'm about to try a tin of Cristal. Sadly, beermerchants don't seem to import Binky, Sod or Plop. Yet. >

So many things to see and do. Planned an article on this yonks ago. Now all I have is a fridge full of supermarket pale fizz, a few dirty secrets to spill and the insatiable desire to throw my hands in the air and chant "let your feelings slip boy/but never your mask, boy". Confused? Good. Open this in a new window and read more where it tells you to...



Let's be honest: lager is shit. It's a pitiful excuse for alcohol. Drunk from tins, drank by neds, sold in slabs, made in labs. It may have a rich history but it's been forcibly abducted by the English and had up the chuffer. There are amoeboids avoiding osmosis with passing cells just in case it involves this fizzy pizz of stuff.

But - you'll never guess. I love it. I fooking love it. There's my first big dirty secret smeared all over t'internet. I will happily cock my pinkie in the air and sample an oak-aged imperial stout with the best beer wankers of the world. But - sometimes - nothing compares with a pint of larger and a bunch of mates down the golf club.

Are you still reading? I'm serious. I love beer. If you've been around the site, you'll know that. I love artisinal brews, I love festivals with rare cask ales, I love bottles from far flung continents in outrageous styles.

Yet there's something ingrained in my beer history. Lager is the beer that was my first love, my reluctant partner and my wayward mistress. Ayingerbrau as a child turned me to cider. Whatever ended up in the snakebite as a student brought me half way back. Stella gave me an opportunity to piss my hard earned wages up a porcelain wall.

I've never been to Plzen. For me, lager is a big chemically mess. And I love it for that.

For me, this Session is about accessible lager. So I popped round to the three supermarkets within a mile of home and picked up a bottle from the shelf. Here, my dear topers, is the result:

#1: Czech Lager, Co-Op. "Premium lager brewed in Bohemia". An InBev clone. Worringly, "cleared using polyvinylpolypyrrolidone". This may make it suitable for vegans, but this "most interesting derivatives of acetylene chemistry" is somehow scarier to me than using bits of fish to clear a beer. But you know what? This gets the job done. Sweet bready nose, just a bit cardboardy, it still has a hop and a crunch in the end. Like the lingering granny who never left you alone in the lounge when you were trying to finger your first girlfriend, I hate this beer right now yet respect it for what it teaches me.

(Some would say it teaches you to drape a pillow over your granny's mouth and then Apply Some Pressure. I couldn't possibly comment.)

#2: Czech Premium Lager, Adsa. Looks like the last one except this has more floaty mould on top. I have to be honest - cats have left better odours behind in litter trays. It's unearthly sweet. Sweet, sweet cardboard. Perhaps I under-geared the aroma - it's cardboard with a diabetic urinary issue. The only good thing about this beer is my vicinity to a drain into which I can swill this effluent down. It's THE most unpleasant beer I've had in recent memory, And that includes Greene King IPA. Da truff, dog.

#3: Ostravar, Somerfield. Ah, the joys of non-supermarket-branded lager. No cheating, mind (what's all that noise, we'll have no cheating round here), Somerfield can't afford own brand and FFS THANKS because Ostravar is, ladeez en gintelmen.....

Lawnmower Lager.

BTW - as Katie White keeps suggesting to me, I do imagine all the girls, the boys, the strings and the drums, the drums, the drums, the drums.

Sweetbready yet still hoppy. Creamy and hoppy. Dry and hoppy. This does the job. Just like lager #1, here's 5% shit that makes you fuzzy whilst giving your taste buds something to toss off to.

And now we get to the real dirty shit. I love lager - that much is true. When I go to one of my favourite bars, a bar with three handpulled ales, including the sublime St Austell Tribute, I drink... Stella Artois. Now served in a vase with a stem. Want to know why I have it? Well, the cask beers are good, and I mean GOOD; well kept by someone who knows what they're doing and turns over enough to keep it fresh. But Stella... I've been drinking it here for years and it just... works! I arrive, go to the bar, don't have to order it coz it's being poured for me, sit back, relax, enjoy. I've had days on the ale (only miles away to brewery taps offering 16 beers) and then ended up here for one of their killer burgers and lashings of Stella.

Ostravar is - to be honest - the poor cousin of Stella. But, to be blunt, it's still a fuckign tasty bottle; I'd give my left testicle for something this good at the clubs I've been to recently for gigs.

So, there you go. Lager. Shit yet lovely. And I didn't even get around to trying Derbyshire's finest (er, only) county-brewed lager, Moravka. But that's what weekend rambles are for, eh, peeps?

Last words go to Underworld (although we all know that no words are necessary: NUXX is over-rated but still ingrained into our psyche):

"I just come out of the Ship/Talking to the most blonde I ever met
Shouting lager, lager, lager, lager/ Mega mega white thing"

And here endeth the lesson.

>

What can you do with nitro-lager drinkers? Give them better lager to try, perhaps? When beermerchants.com wanted to know what I thought of Moritz, a Spanish lager, I thought it was only fair to round up a few willing swillers and ask them if they thought it could be a Stella-beater.


The Moritz brand has a proud history in Catalonia. Formed in 1856 by an Alsatian brewer, Louis Moritz Trautman, it enjoyed over a hundred years of success before financial problems brought about the brewery's closure in 1978. But old beers never die - they live on in fond memories. "The brand has stayed in people's brains," says Albert Castellón, general manager at Moritz. "This has helped us communicate our message."

That message seems to be that Moritz is a quality Barcelonean beer, compared to mass-market national brands such as San Miguel and Estrella. Back in production again since 2004, the beer wants to become synonymous with the city. Their iconic logo seems to get everywhere; on the side of classic Seat cars, on canary-yellow parasols and on promotional signage that's so coveted that it's stolen from bars if not nailed down.

So, Moritz has established heritage, impressive marketing... but does it taste any good? I gave away a dozen bottles to long-time lager drinkers and here's what they said:

"it reminded me of Molson Dry...I like my lager to be a bit more remarkable"

"better than Fosters, Kronenburg etc but I wouldn't buy it if a large bottle of Stella costs less"

"a nice brew, not what I'd expected, not flabby"

"a bit bland compared to ale but better than the likes of Black Label"

"it had a different taste to what I'd expect from a continental lager"

"I can see myself sitting on my patio in the summer enjoying a few bottles"

"quite dry and crisp"

"not as distinctive as Bud, Carslberg, but in a good way"

"not as much of an edge as other lagers"

"quite flavoursome and not too lagery "


Good to see that a fair few people found it surprising. If you're used to the torpor of common continental bottled lager brands, then Moritz will indeed taste different enough. It's a different beastie to Stella, reassuringly refreshing rather than unneccesarily expensive.

My take? It's clean, dry, a little butteryness up front, a little bitter finish. It's a lager that gets the job done in a soft Saazish way and does wonders to reclaim the style away from the usual metallic eurofizz. Goes well with sausage and chips on a cool February evening but probably goes down better in Barca with tapas at a pavement cafe watching microskirts and mopeds scuttle down boulevards as the evening heat wears away.

Thanks to my intrepid lager tasters for their input and to beermerchants for the samples.
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