Ordinary Bitter

Historical Development

British beers get a bad rap. It seems like every time we need a cheap laugh about the Brits our go-to is "Three Americans walk into a pub and order warm, flat beer." Sure…the beer is warmer and flatter than American ales, but there are a lot of reasons for that. First, it's the result of two world wars that decimated the food and grain supply in England for a significant portion of the last century, altering brewers' processes and drinkers' tastes to this day. Second, these beers are part of a completely different drinking tradition–and ironically one that most would love if they experienced it–than Americans are used to.

Not for the first time, the two wars that destroyed Europe in the first half of the twentieth century necessitated a change in brewing process. Ingredients, particularly malted barley, were rationed, and laws were put in place that limited the alcohol content in all beer produced. One such law from 1918 mandated that half of the beer produced had to have an original gravity less than 1.030, roughly equating to a beer of less than 3% ABV. It wasn't always this way, though. In the Victorian period, most of the beer produced sat between 5-12%, similar to what we see in American bars today. Even before that, estates would produce much of their own beer with a large variety of alcohol content ranging from 3-4% on the low end to 10-12% on the high end. The styles that would eventually become Ordinary Bitter, Best Bitter, and Strong Bitter–sometimes collectively referred to as "bitters"–were more or less established by the early twentieth century, but with the new rations and limitations, they became (and remained) weaker during the wars.

In a previous life, a British pianist once cheekily told me that normal English beer consumption is roughly equivalent to Americans' concept of a high-functioning alcoholic. The English can drink. A lot. What's different is that drinking is an acceptable, public, and often work-related activity. On a recent trip to London, I noticed (happily) that the pubs were full from around 11:00 AM-1:00 AM on week nights, and everyone–I do mean everyone–had at least a couple of pints while they were there. Many of those folks were just in for lunch, but there wasn't the stigma around an afternoon pint that you might face when you arrive back at an American office. Whatever sparked that trend, the culture demands low-gravity, easy-to-stomach beer that people can have and get on with their day.

Most of the versions of bitter you'll find on a shelf in the States are brewed for our market, so they won't taste the way they do from a cask. If you do get the chance to try one of these brewed and packaged traditionally, ask for "a pint" or "a half," and expect an amber-colored, biscuity, bitter beer with a smooth finish and a pleasant cider note from the oxidation of the cask. These are wonderfully delicate creatures, and they're probably harder to find than that sexy imperial stout your buddy just traded for. If nothing else, it's unlike anything else in the beer world that Americans are used to.

Modern Evolution