Cask ale

Cask ale or ‘real ale’ is a British tradition that is widely respected by brewers around the world, and lamentably under-appreciated by consumers in its homeland. Beer is brewed with British malt and (usually) English hops, and fermented by a British ale yeast (of which there are dozens of unique strains). After the yeast is ‘cropped’ from the surface of the beer near the end of fermentation, the beer is racked into a container called a ‘cask’ (looks a bit like a fat keg), and the beer is sent to a pub where it finishes fermenting in the care of a cellar master. There is a lot that goes into looking after casks of ale in a cellar, and it’s not only the quality of the beer that determines how appetising the pint will be, but the skill and dedication of the cellar master. While ale can be poured directly from the cask, it is usually connected to a hand-pulled beer pump that brings beer from the cellar up to the bar and into your glass. There is sometimes a device called a ’sparkler’ on the end of the beer spout that forces the beer through tiny holes, generating a fine, creamy foam. Beer served this way is at cellar temperature (9-12ºC), warmer than draught beer (0-4ºC), and with less carbonation. 

If I were to brew two beers with all the same ingredients, one with closed fermentation and served from keg through a draught system, the other as described above, the beers would have certain elements in common but would also be very different - in flavour, aroma, texture, and even appearance. The point here is that how it’s made and served, rather than just what it’s made from, makes a big difference. If you’ve been to the UK, you may have noticed that many of the beers we commonly enjoy in Australia and even the vernacular around them (pale ale, bitter, stout) have been borrowed and adapted to local conditions. Naturally, draught beer won the arms race in Australian pubs some years ago - it’s all well and good to drink a lightly sparkling 12ºC pint of bitter on a drizzly 19ºC summer’s day in London, and quite another to attempt the same feat on a 40ºC day on the banks of Bendigo Creek.

On the banks of Bendigo Creek

I could go on. But the drain my words are circling is this: why make cask ale in Australia, especially given the local conditions, general lack of knowledge and interest in cask ale, and all the extra effort required?

One reason is that there aren’t many brewers in Australia doing cask ales. It may be true that if you know where to go, it’s not especially difficult to find a hand pump in Australia. More often than not though, the beer being served on it is being served from a keg. I’ve alluded to some of the reasons why this is significant above and, sadly, the teaching of cask handling skills in Australian pubs probably died out sometime in the mid-20th century. Due to the lack of requisite skills and equipment in Australian pubs, cask is not a format that has a wholesale market in Australia. That’s why you’re unlikely to find any of our cask beers outside the Bendigo Brewing taproom.

Another reason is that, while there are British-style beers being made in Australia to a high standard, many of them brewed entirely with ingredients imported from the UK, I saw an opportunity to make beers that might be described as British-inspired, but using Australian grain and hops (well, sometimes NZ hops too). Rather than being disappointed that our local malt isn’t just like the Maris Otter grown in Norfolk, I saw a fun opportunity to learn how a Australian barley strain like schooner, malted to similar specs as an old-world classic, would perform under similar conditions. Unsurprisingly, beers made with our local ingredients are different, yet delicious. My farmer and maltster are a phone call away, their products are fresh, and they’ve only had to travel a few hours down the road, compared with weeks on a boat from the other side of the world.

Did I mention our house yeast, Venus? An ideal top-cropping yeast, she loves our open fermenter and is well-adapted to making cask ales. I’ll tell you more about her another time.

There’s a lot I could write about the special equipment and tools we had to invest in to do cask ales properly, but I’ll keep it brief: it’s a much more tactile experience putting beer into casks and getting it out compared with kegs. And by tactile, I mean that it involves hitting things with a large and heavy mallet. Depending on what else has been happening in my week, that can be a deeply therapeutic experience.