WHAT two ideas are more inseparable than beer and Britannia?’ asked the Revd Sydney Smith. The Anglican cleric, whose fondness for a jug of ale was almost as strong as his distaste for gravy, was speaking rhetorically, of course. For beer, like beef, is synonymous with our island nation, it has made us the people we are—jolly, moderate and prone to glow in the heat. Like our accents, British beer is diverse, conditioned by local climates, water and taste, as well as the jobs of the men and women who sup it.
Beer is a simple drink. Its key ingredients are water, malted barley, yeast and hops. The latter, a herbaceous climbing perennial, was introduced to Britain by Flemish immigrants. At first, British brewers—who called their product ale—reacted to the new-fangled herb as if it were Himalayan balsam.
