I’m no Grinch but I am extremely sensitive to the vicissitudes of the festive season. I dislike the cold, I hate navigating overcrowded city centres, I can never think what to get Ms Beer & Brew, and I feel slightly underwhelmed when the day itself arrives and I think: ‘is this what the last six weeks have been about – Doctor Who and filling bins with packaging?’

There are upsides of course. I love that my mum will have the treats I’ll never buy for myself (Maltesers and Ferrero Rocher); I like the time off work – though this may be a thing of the past now I’m not in a job I hate; and I really like the days when you have no choice but to do nothing. I’m also reassured at our society’s devotion to The True Meaning of Christmas. Each year we lavish love, respect and reverence to something dear, and beloved by us all. Booze.

Winter beer-drinking is like an old, friendly labrador coming to visit and making everything better: warming, comforting, soothing and wonderful. It is incredibly efficient at creating ‘hygge’ (the term Danish Tourism and Marketing departments have told us we must now use instead of the incredibly passé ‘cosiness’), which also means it makes the perfect festive gift. I can’t think of a single thing that I want in the world that can’t be bought at my favourite beer shop, but you don’t have to be as obsessed as me to savour the gift of beer.

But – please, please avoid those dreadful ‘Beers from Around the World’ gift sets from Debenhams etc. Here are four great alternatives:

Make your own beer selection. With the explosion in the popularity of beer, you could do an amazing one with beers from your own county, in some cases your own city. How about a range of fruit beers? Or a ‘colour chart’ starting with a Belgian Wit, then a German Pils, Vienna Lager, Brown Ale, a De Koninck or similar, then a Belgian Dubbel, before a clattering, climactic Imperial Stout?

If you want something with no decision-making, there are of course prepared gift packs that contain superb beer. Duvel have a tasting pack of the Tripel Hop range they launched in 2007, which has been lauded every year since and makes a superb introduction to strong, complex Belgian beers for the IPA-obsessed among you. For those wanting something closer to home (assuming you live near me), months-old brewery Lost + Found of Brighton have a great-looking pale ale gift pack out – as with so many modern beers, the packaging is slick, modern and impressive. And finally, Beers of Europe do several amazing 12 Beers of Christmas packs that any fan would love.

If your recipient has the patience to accept their gift across a couple of weeks (as opposed to devouring it in a burst of 5am, teeth-clenched, ‘is-it-a-puppy?!’ excitement) why not plan a special meal every two or three days leading up to the 25th, with the perfect beer accompaniment? End on something absolutely amazing with your goose, turkey, beef, nut roast, or chicken tandoori, having built the feeling of luxury and wonder throughout the season. Don’t gobble a host of spectacular beers in a four-hour session – let them stand alone and sing.

And, finally, if your recipient really has been very good this year, why not treat them to a brewery tour, or beer festival in another part of the UK or Europe? That way, you get to go on holiday, and it seems like a gesture from the immense warmth of your endlessly generous heart.

Whatever you plump for, try to get the balance right. Find the full, warming, unctuous stuff that can send the one you love into a bleary-eyed stupor, but make sure there are light, refreshing options that mean they won’t be a red-faced, gout-ridden wreck by January.

Craft Beer, noun – a beer made in a traditional or non-mechanised way by a small brewery.

I have nothing against what is referred to as ‘Craft Beer’ – well…maybe a couple of things, but overall I’m a fan.

There has never been an explosion of diversity and styles like we have seen over the last few years. Bars have improved their offerings and new ones have sprung up; homebrew has been reignited; and there are socials, festivals, clubs, competitions, collaborations, investors and beer schools. Not to mention dry-hopped British Pale Ales, hop-forward American Pale Ales, hoppy New Zealand Pale Ales, strong-hopped Indian Pale Ales, and so many other ways to enjoy hops – sorry, beer.

The movement has humble roots here in the UK, where it began in the late sixties before it was adopted by North America. It grew and grew, and now there are approximately one zillion breweries throughout the US (actually 4,000 by mid-2015, with the vast majority being craft breweries). Two or three decades later, we saw fit to adopt the movement back, and began what is called ‘The Craft Beer Revolution’ by those that brew and sell modern styles. There are currently around 80 breweries in London alone. And now the rest of the world has jumped aboard, meaning craft beer is about as niche as Tesco.

Anyway, this is just the background stuff, and only partially useful in helping make my point.

The term seems more and more to be losing meaning as it becomes ubiquitous. Those that don’t know what it means still don’t know. Those that do are seeing huge breweries replicating the aesthetic, the marketing and the beer styles themselves (or more often and more simply, buying the breweries that make them). Is an American-style IPA brewed by SAB-MonsterBud-GloboBev and sold in a funky bottle or can a craft beer? If not, why not? It has taken more time in its crafting. It looks like one. It tastes like one. It might even be better than most.

Did Lagunitas IPA cease being a craft beer when Heineken launched money at it? Surely you don’t get points for being small when you’re propped up by Heineken? But if you strike gold and make an amazing beer, you want as many people as possible to taste it – why limit the enjoyment a stunning beer can bring by resisting mechanisation? It’s the same beer. Heineken wouldn’t part with millions only to change everything.

Does it mean it is ‘authentic’, or produced with a care and attention akin to that of Beyoncé’s eyebrow plucker? If so, does that suggest that other beers are not? Rude! Perhaps it just means adding a pound to the price of a pint.

My driving home my point is now becoming as boring and as useful as the term itself. So, what are the alternatives? ‘Small batch’? ‘Indie’? I don’t know. We should probably have a term that actually means something. Or maybe – and this is a contentious one – we just call it ‘beer’ and decide whether or not we like, support or engage with it first-and-foremost on how good it tastes.

 

That’s right, winter has come knocking again. It seems no time ago that I was eating outside at 8pm in shorts and t-shirt with a fresh, crisp lager. Four weeks ago in fact, on holiday in Madeira. Holidaying at this time of year is my own silly attempt to ignore the onset of autumn, and the cold, deathly handshake it brings.

I am not a fan of the cold – as my choice of language may suggest – but I am a massive fan of trying to enjoy myself so much that I fail to notice it. The good thing about the lead into the festive period’s is that we are looking for any excuse to celebrate, despite the dark, damp dreariness.

In an antidote to the lack of long, warm summer parties where we get together and drink booze, we have a number of clever measures. We first adopt the traditions of the German beer festival, get together and drink booze. We then don terrifying costumes, get together and drink booze. Now we have November 5th, and I have the perfect thing to accompany the fireworks, bonfires and tending to frightened pets. It’s booze!

So what can make these occasions feel a bit more special and warm? You may want to match your surroundings and reach for a smoked beer if you can find one amid the dense fug. Stand defiant against the wind blowing ash and hedgehog into your eyes with a Schlenkerla Rauchbier Marzen, a huge, smoky, savoury beer with some thick sweetness as balance.

But what to match the traditional dining options that Guy Fawkes offers us? It’s a wonderful time of year for matching your food with a great beer. Try Kernel’s new Export Porter at 5.6% with pulled pork, the new kid in the hearty, warming, winter block. It has a deceptive aroma which is quite floral and grassy, but the taste is charcoal, mesquite and caramelised loveliness with just enough fruity malt that it doesn’t become overwhelming.

The month may have passed, but you can still find Paulaner Oktoberfest, a wonderful thing that loves nothing more than being devoured along with sticky, roasted sausages. It is bready, sweet and rich, with enough bubbles to clean away its fatty friend, so you enjoy each bite as you did the first.

“Jacket potato!” I hear you cry. Yes, another fireworks favourite. You need to fill it with a good chilli, butter and a little sour cream and chives, then experience the magic as you swill away with Schneider Weisse Tap 7. You’ll feel the malt, cloves, vanilla and breadiness marry the flavours of the chilli, whisk them off, and live happily ever after. If you are savouring the experience, make it a Schneider Weisse Aventinus at 8.2%. Just don’t end up slumped effigy-like against a wall (that could end horribly).

The next occasion, within this period heavy with occasions, is my birthday. How could I celebrate? Get together and drink booze? What else?

Hello world!