Beer and sandwiches at Number 10? Not anymore

Could Britain’s national drinks of beer and cider be better represented by the government? Pete Brown gives his thoughts.

A long time ago, successive governments appointed a “minister for pubs.” It was often written like that, in inverted commas, as if suggesting that the minister wasn’t a real minister. In 2017 the post was quietly forgotten about.

In the dying days of the last Labour government, I briefly met the first “minister for pubs.” I’d just been named Beer Writer of the Year and we were at an annual parliamentary reception that I don’t get invited to any more. I was introduced to the minister who, with deference to my new title, said. “Ah, wonderful. Now tell me: what more can we do to help our wonderful British brewing industry?”

I answered with another question. “If I were to go to a British government reception, what drinks would I be offered?”

Suddenly the minister spotted someone across the room whom he urgently needed to speak to.

“If I was invited to the French Embassy, do you think I’d be offered Australian wine?” I enquired of his retreating back. “Would I be served Stella Artois by the Germans?”

If that sounds a tad aggressive, it’s because I already knew the answer to my first question. After clearing Parliamentary security, on the way to the terrace where the reception was held, there was a glass display box exhibiting the Houses of Parliament souvenirs you could buy, all branded in stately racing green with the famous parliamentary portcullis embossed in gold.

You could get Parliament-branded Scotch whisky – and rightly so. You could also choose parliamentary branded Champagne, French claret, and Portuguese Port. But of British beer or cider, there was no sign.

I was reminded of this encounter last week, when news broke of the current government’s ‘hospitality’ booze receipts.

The report on the government’s wine cellar, which was finally released last Thursday after being delayed four times, revealed that Downing Street polished off more than 1,400 bottles of wine and spirits during the two years of the Covid pandemic from 2020 to 2022, and topped up the cellar with £27,000 of fresh stock.

The main anger in the headlines was that the taxpayer was footing the bill for this while spending most of their time in lockdown. There was outrage at the 516 bottles of red Bordeaux wines, costing about £28 each, which the report insists is a “relatively modest” price. Labour pointed out that between 2019 and 2022, the net spend on booze rose to more than £100,000.

But a seasoned beer writer such as myself feels an old, different resentment kick in at a story like this.

Whenever there’s a negative story in the press about the harmful effects of alcohol, it will almost certainly be illustrated with picture of someone drinking beer. But when alcohol is depicted in an elevated, celebratory role, beer and cider hardly ever get a mention. They are entirely absent from the stories about the government’s booze spending, which can only mean one of two things: either the government never offers beer or cider as part of its hospitality for guests; or they are deemed so unimportant that they don’t deserve a single mention in this report.

There are two separate but connected issues here.

The first is that beer and cider, wherever they come from, are considered inferior drinks to wine and spirits. At the start of the craft beer boom, there were scattered headlines suggesting that “beer is the new wine,” and some within the emerging craft cider scene insist that “cider is wine” (which, technically, it is). Beer is not wine, and beer and cider are not better than wine. They simply deserve to be treated with the same respect.

A cheap bottle of Pinot Grigio is no better than a pint of mass-produced standard lager. An aged vintage ale can rival port in its depth and complexity. But many of us, successive governments of all parties included, seem to believe that any wine is better than any beer or cider.

Which brings us to the second issue: Britain is among a handful of elite beer and cider producers in the world. If we’re not the best, we’re pretty close. We are without doubt the best producers of perry, and have the largest and most established cider market of any country. Talk to brewers anywhere else in the world apart for the UK, and they’re jealous of our cask ale tradition. The British pub is famous across, the world, one of our top two or three attractions to foreign tourists.

It was actually really pleasing to see in the wine cellar report that the government has almost completely replaced Champagne with English and Welsh sparkling wine. This is what you’d expect any government to do – proudly showcase the produce if its award-winning makers. So why don’t we do the same with our traditional national drinks?

I’m already aware that this line of argument can be interpreted as jingoistic. When I wrote a book defending traditional British cuisine, the consensus in the food world was that I had gone “a bit Ukippy.” My politics are actually as far away from that as you can possibly get. Only in Britain could standing up for what you do well be interpreted as hatred and suspicion of others.

I hope I do one day get invited to a French government event, and if I am served a £28 Bordeaux, as I hope I would be, I’m sure I’ll love it. But I honestly don’t see what the downside is for any British government in promoting British drinks that we make better than pretty much anyone else.

Pete Brown is a British author, journalist, broadcaster and consultant. He writes for newspapers and magazines around the world and is a regular contributor to radio and podcasts. He was named British Beer Writer of the Year in 2009, 2012, 2016 and 2021.