OnTap Magazine

YOUNG AND FRESH AN ENDANGERED STYLE MILD AND MALTY Use of the word mild as a descriptor for ales can be traced back as far as the 7th century, although mild’s heyday would only come about 11 centuries later, when it began to challenge porter as the most popular beer style in Britain. To call it a style back then though is quite incorrect. In fact, 18th-century milds would have the kind of style parameters that keep modern-day BJCP judges chuckling – or perhaps rolling their eyes. Colour: pale gold to deep brown; ABV: low to high. One thing that they generally had in common was low bitterness, for brewers didn’t need to generously hop these beers. The reason for this is the one thing that defined ales described as ‘mild’: these beers were not designed for long storage. They were meant to be drunk young and fresh, so the preservative properties of the hop were not required. Most beers of the era were aged for weeks or sometimes months before serving, with the average beer drinker having a taste for lactic acid and Brettanomyces that only serious beer lovers tend to harbour today. But milds were served fresh from the brewery, with the word not meaning gentle – either in alcohol or flavour – but simply meaning ‘young’. Milds were often served so young that fermentation hadn’t even finished, leaving the beers sweeter than most and with a well-rounded body. Although versions of all strengths – even as high as 10% ABV – have been recorded, mild was generally fairly low in alcohol. It also demanded a lower price from drinkers which likely contributed to its popularity. As with most British beer styles, the averageABV of mild took a knock after the two World Wars, thanks to a combination of rationing and austerity measures. After WWII, mild still accounted for around 70% of draught beers sales in the UK according to Cornell, but its heyday was over. People began to shun mild ale, which was associated with the working class, in favour of aspirational pints like bitter and increasingly, lager. By the early 70s mild made up just 20% of draught beer sales and by the late 90s barely three pints in 100 poured were milds. Today only a small handful of breweries in Britain produce a mild – and even fewer elsewhere in the world. In South Africa there’s not a single craft brewery regularly making mild, so to get my mild fix I turned to the place beer enthusiasts have always turned when wanting to taste something different: my local homebrew club. Once a year, the SouthYeasters hold a BJCP-accredited brew-to-style competition known as the Wolfgang Cup and as luck would have it, this year’s chosen style was 13A – Dark Mild. Entry numbers were low, but I did manage to get my hands on a couple of examples, both of which placed in the top three of the competition. Historically, milds spanned the SRM spectrum from gold to something bordering black, but these days almost all are dark. Don’t let their appearance fool you into thinking this beer is anything akin to stout though. Here, a gentle sweetness is usually present and only a low roasty character is appropriate. The sweetness comes from a healthy portion of Crystal malt, which also adds body to this low-gravity pint. Dark invert sugar is sometimes used for extra depth of colour, while some brewers opt for caramel colouring to darken their milds. The homebrewed milds I got my hands on were visually both textbook versions of the style: a perfect shade of mahogany with an alluring garnet note when held up to the light. The joint second place entry, brewed by Greg Harrowsmith, had notes of dark plum, cherry and toast, though could perhaps have benefited from a smidgen more sweetness. Then I cracked open the winner, brewed by Jason Lightfoot, and I knew the judges had done their job well. Here was a beer that was basically a checklist for the style: treacle toffee, brown toast, full of malt flavour and yet still deeply quaffable. In a beer world that’s obsessed with pints that are ever hoppier and boozier, it’s hugely refreshing to sip on something that is entirely focused on malt. Its flavours are subtle but can be complex, taking in liquorice, raisin, toffee, toast, nuts and perhaps just a whisper of classic earthy British hops. But despite the body and subtle sweetness, these beers – now generally found in the 3—4% ABV range – are highly moreish. In his Beer Bible, writer Jeff Alworth described mild as being “the original session beer” – that is, a beer designed to be drunk in quantity. And as I think back to last year’s Fools & Fans Festival, I have to agree. On the Sunday morning, as I was medicating my hangover with a pint of Chris Pryor’s Dark Mild, fellow hungover friends asked what I was sipping on. Gradually each of them grabbed a glass and enjoyed a veritable liquid breakfast – a beer with notes of lightly charred toast, dark fruits and just a hint of toffee. As I topped up my glass I heard the tell-tale sputtering sound of a keg emptying out and wondered sadly when I might next get a chance to sip on a pint of this hard-to-find brew that celebrates two qualities that have become increasingly rare in craft beer – maltiness and restraint. If you see me lingering in the background at your local homebrew club meeting, you’ll know why. Full of malt flavour and yet still deeply quaffable A lesson in restraint ontapmag.co.za | Winter 2022 | 41