The Goldilocks Effect by Jim Anderson

You remember the story, right? Goldilocks heads out into the woods, barges into the Three Bears’ house, sits down to their porridge and proceeds to judge each one on its temperature. I’ll bet anything that when she grew up, Goldilocks became a real ale drinker.
Let’s face it, real ale is a real pain in the neck to the publican. It’s delicate. It’s alive. It needs its own special equipment and fiddly kit. It needs to be prepared several days in advance of serving, and then only lasts a couple of days before it begins to taste weird. And its customers are some of the planet’s biggest whingers.
Or, they can be a pub’s best advertisement – that is, when the pub’s doing everything right. But who’s to say what’s right and what’s not?
Back in the 70s, the tale goes, a group of enthusiasts used their collective hatred of kegged beer like Watney’s Red Barrel to revive the dying art form known as cask-conditioned ale. The success of European kegged lager in the UK gave British (and particularly, Scottish) breweries the idea that they could make beer this way, too, thereby cutting out the precision, expense and general bother of brewing beer in the traditional manner. These enthusiasts lobbied the industry and government to revitalise cask-conditioned ale (dubbed “real ale”) and stamp out monopolistic behaviour by big breweries, climaxing with the Beer Orders of 1989. They formed the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA), whose 100,000 members have made it one of the most-successful consumer organisations in Europe.
Despite the stereotype of anorak-clad cheapskates, today’s CAMRA member is often young, professional and in search of pubs who serve real ale. The Good Beer Guide is many pubs’ single greatest source of customers, and happy CAMRA members are willing to spread the word.
With just a hint of irony, however, the very revival of real ale has led many publicans to throw up their hands in despair. Whilst CAMRA has been dogged in their pursuit of creating a market for real ale, they have been rather loose in their approach to how it should be handled by the publican. With so many variations on the real ale theme, and so little agreement among those who monitor it, drinkers are left to decide which pint they prefer based on personal taste, which might be counter-productive to the revival itself.
In the beginning, there was real ale. Lager hadn’t been invented yet, neither had refrigeration nor forced carbonation. It was served out of a barrel with a spout stuck in it, at whatever temperature Mother Nature decided. No doubt, Joseph Bramah’s 1799 handpump was the single controversial development of beer’s first several hundred years here.
But with today’s mod cons, things previously-unthinkable are now possible. No, Susan, I’m not talking about whisky-resistant lipstick. I’m talking about filtration, refrigeration, forced carbonation, micro-sparklers – in short, anything to make real ale real ale taste more like kegged beer. And as we look to CAMRA for guidance on these points, the guidance is not clear. As a result, there is a wide range of conflicting opinions among real ale drinkers about what constitutes a “proper” pint of real ale. Enter Goldilocks.
Some publicans – let’s call them Cask Nazis – are dedicated to preserving the ancient methods of real ale dispense. Casks kept in the cellar at ambient temperature, lain horizontal on stillages (old-fashioned name for racks), vented for requisite number of days, poured by gravity (un-chilled lines and handpumps grudgingly tolerated), and kept overnight under a hard spile (old-fashioned name for wooden peg). CAMRA is fine with all that. Goldilocks Risk: complaint that the real ale is too warm (summer) or too cold (winter, sound familiar?).
Unfortunately, Cask Nazis have to move their beer within three or four days to keep it fresh-tasting or pour the remains down the sink, and not every pub can do that. Some publicans take to using “cask breathers,” little devices to inject low-pressure CO2 into the cask to keep it from oxidizing and thus extending its shelf life. CAMRA is not fine with that, however, because it retards the natural evolution of the beer through oxidation. Except now CAMRA are in bed with Cask Marque, self-appointed watchdogs for real ale management in pubs, who see nothing wrong with cask breathers, probably because they do not want to jeopardise their vast pubco membership. Goldilocks Risk: no risk, really, as long as your casks are properly vented before serving.
When a cask breather’s pressure is turned up, however, some of the CO2 can become dissolved in the ale, thereby giving it a little more “fizz,” thus more allure to the punter who’s last pint was a Fosters. CAMRA still no, Cask Marque doesn’t really address the issue. Goldilocks Risk: too much carbonation might lead to a short pour, which is roughly equivalent to murdering the customer’s first-born.
Some other publicans take to refrigerating their casks and/or lines to avoid comments that their real ale was too warm, a modern complaint (see above), but a complaint nonetheless. Although refrigerating a cask can slow down or stop the secondary fermentation that distinguishes real ale from other beers, CAMRA says this is okay, as does Cask Marque. In fact, Cask Marque has gone to all the trouble to design pump clips to declare that a particular real ale is actually being poured un-refrigerated – the implication that refrigerating your real ale is normal, and that serving it otherwise is something that might only appeal to the lunatic fringe. Goldilocks Risk: complaint that the real ale is too cold (even worse, pint cupped in hands with scowl on face or shaking head slowly whilst looking downward), deadening malt flavours at the same time heightening bitterness.
A side-effect of over-chilling real ale (a natural progression from chilling it) is what’s called “chill haze,” in which proteins in the beer begin to come out of solution and make your pint cloudy, which is an absolute CAMRA and Cask Marque no-no, even though it was not uncommon during winter months in virtually all pubs in the Old Days or today in pubs run by Cask Nazis (see above). This effect has led some brewers to sell “tank-conditioned” ale, that is, ale which has undergone its secondary fermentation in the brewery conditioning tanks, then racked “bright” (filtered) into the cask, and ready for over-chilling. And we’re right back to kegged beer, aren’t we? Goldilocks Risk: rejected pint, as very few real ale fans will survive the sight of a cloudy pint, even if it tastes fine.
So, as a publican, if you choose to serve real ale how should you serve it? Should you use a cask breather, should you chill your casks, chill your lines, buy it bright or go the caveman route? Don’t worry, suit yourself. It doesn’t really matter, because whatever you decide, you can bet Goldilocks will drop by to tell you that your beer is too warm, too cold, too hazy or too old.