Guinness: A perfect two-part pour ... -- The 30 Somethings *Look-A-Like* Forum

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Date Posted: 13:04:33 03/14/02 Thu
Author: A former Dubliner searches the city for the perfect pint
Subject: Guinness: A perfect two-part pour ...

I love Guinness, I crave Guinness. Do I have a problem? I did � up until about a month ago. The problem was I couldn't find a decent pint anywhere.

There was a time when I wouldn't have cared. Wet ash. Those were the two words I used to describe Guinness before I saw the light, or rather, tasted it.

Then I moved to Dublin. And if my three years there had bookends, each would be a Guinness.

Prior to that, my experience with the Guinness included a couple of pints on March 17 � St. Patrick's Day � and a few swigs from a can if there was nothing better in my parents' liquor cabinet.

But the minute I arrived in Dublin I was whisked off to the pub. "Have a Guinness," friends told me. "You're in Ireland now."

It was at Finnegan's pub in Dalkey, a village just outside of Dublin, where I fell in love. The pint was creamy, with a mature, but not bitter, taste. It was so smooth, so drinkable, so I had another. And another, and maybe one or two more. Was I stuffed with the thick beverage? Not at all.

Myth, and the colour alone, would have you believe Guinness is a heavy beer (the word stout, which means it's brewed with a dark roasted malt or barley, evokes certain connotations). But it's not. A pint of Guinness has about 196 calories. That's less than most premium beers and lagers; in fact, it's less than a pint of 1 per cent milk (270 calories) or a pint of orange juice (220 calories).

It's also a myth that Guinness is supposed to be served warm, or at room temperature, according to Rob Malloch, a spokesperson for Guinness. Regular Guinness should be served at about 6C and the "Extra Cold" version at 3.5C.

Guinness' roots lie in St. James's Gate in Dublin, where Arthur Guinness set up the business in 1759. Since then, the beer has become firmly established in more than 150 countries.

Although it's the number one imported draught in Canada � we drink 18 million Guinness a year � you have to visit Ireland to get a true sense of the stout's tradition.

It's said Irish mothers used to encourage their daughters to marry a Guinness man � that's an employee, not a drinker, although more often than not, the two went hand in hand. It was respectable work, and as an added bonus, employees received free stout every day � those who opted not to drink got an extra dividend in their pay package. They were paid with drink; they were paid not to drink. By 1930, about one in 10 men in Dublin relied on Guinness for a livelihood.

The company built flats and row houses near St. James's Gate. Lore has it that one employee ran a tap from the brewery to his nearby home so he could enjoy a pint whenever he pleased (I'll bet he spent a lot of time being very pleased).

I'd also bet that fellow knew how to pour a perfect Guinness. And that is key. Pull a pint of Guinness like you would a lager, and you'll understand my wet ash comparison.

The brewing process is an intricate mix of roasted malted barely hops, yeast and water (drawn from the Wicklow Mountains), but the pouring method is equally vital.

When I returned to Canada, I thought I'd keep drinking Guinness. But after several attempts in a handful of different bars, I gave it up. It didn't taste right. It was sort of flat. The rich creamy head, an integral part of the pint, was lifeless.

I assumed the Guinness was brewed in Canada and simply differed slightly, but I was wrong. Guinness UDV Canada imports Guinness from Dublin. The kegs come by ship in an eight-day journey to Montreal.

Malloch says the freshness of each keg is essential. As a result, Guinness runs its own distribution system, instead of contracting it out. The company also has a team whose job it is to ensure a consistently perfect pint.

As part of the "Perfect Pour Program," Malloch's staff travel from bar to bar to demonstrate the ritual pour and ensure the keg lines are cleaned about every two weeks.

I now realize I was being served bad pints because bartenders weren't pouring right. But I found someone willing to go that extra mile at the pub P.J. O'Brien on Colborne St. in Toronto. On my first visit, I bellied up to the bar a skeptic, wondering if I should even bother. But when the white-coated bartender asked me what I was having, with a thick Irish brogue, I decided to go for it.

It was heaven. Needless to say, I went back.

"The key with any draught is to pour it down the side of the glass," says Gib Turner, the pub's bar manager. "But Guinness is peculiar stuff."

He demonstrates by holding the pint glass at a 45-degree angle � with the tap's nozzle tucked right against the side of the glass � and pulling the tap toward him to fully open the line. In one smooth motion, the liquid runs down the side of the glass, filling it with black and white. At about the two-thirds mark, Turner closes the tap. He then uses a spoon to remove any bubbles even though there are only one or two.

"It doesn't have to do with the taste, it's an aesthetic thing," he says about the bubbles, while placing the pint on the edge of the bar to settle.

"Because it's a nitrogenized beer, it needs to surge and settle," explains Malloch. While most breweries use a carbon dioxide gas to push beer through the lines, Guinness uses a 75 per cent nitrogen and 25 per cent carbon dioxide mix. The nitrogen helps activate a richer head.

Back in the pub, a minute and a half goes by. Turner's left with what looks like a partially drank pint, without the trademark head. He then puts it back under the tap, this time upright with the nozzle in the centre of the pint (instead of tucked to the side) and tops it up. Voila, the famous Guinness head.

"The head is nice and creamy, with a nice texture," Turner explains. "It's what Guinness refers to as just `proud' of the rim." Meaning, it rises just above the rim and could be sliced off with a knife.

While Guinness has turned this pouring technique into a ritual, the two-part pour is not unique to the brand. All stouts � including another Irish-favourite, Murphy's � use nitrogen and should be allowed to settle mid-pour.

Toronto's Amsterdam Brewing Co. is getting in on the action also, with its new Irish Stout. Introduced in January, "it's designed to appeal to the Guinness market," says brewer Noel Clarke. Again, he stresses the importance of pouring the stout properly for full taste potential.

But not in a Guinness glass, thanks. A glass made for Guinness, with the Guinness logo, should never be used for another pint, stresses Turner, not even another Irish stout.

"I wouldn't pour it into a Guinness glass," he says, shaking his head. "That would be sacrilegious."

Michelle Warren
Toronto Star

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