In search of something special…

My name’s Richard, and I’m a Rater. Not a ticker – there’s a difference (at least in my mind) – Tickers are like trainspotters, whereas Raters are more like locomotive enthusiasts who ride on the trains as well as writing down the numbers. Admittedly, that analogy doesn’t make the beer community sound any sexier, but there you go. Tickers record merely that they’ve had a beer – Raters actually review each one as they go, and objectively put forward their thoughts.

Anyway, recently I approached a milestone – I had ended up on 999 entries on RateBeer. What to sample to get me into four figures? Something extra-exciting, or extra-rare? (RateBeer and Beer Advocate both being famous for boosting rare beers above their station – but that’s another post). Really, there was only ever one thing I could turn to. The first non-lager to pass my lips. The gateway to a lifetime of beer love. Boddingtons.

Not for me the urban corner swigging cheap cider. Nor the later, more shameful, generation weaned on alcopops. My introduction into the pleasures of booze – and yes, drinking can be pleasurable, don’t ever forget that – was a bitter. That’s if you forget about Carling Black Label, of course. So many cans of fizzy piss. In more ways than one.

No, being raised in the North West of England, it was the cream of Manchester that I fell for, the exotic yellow tin drawing me towards it like a flame. Having the strange widget bobbing inside gave you the sophisticated option of drinking it from a glass – or the unsophisticated one of tearing the metal open to see what it looked like. A tiny plastic heart. Beating life into our beloved.

As with everything else, these days it’s a mere shadow of its former self. Bod’s (not Boddies – Bod’s) used to be a symbol of Northwestern pride. Sold to Whitbread, production was switched to other plants. Hop extract was used instead of the real thing. The original 18th Century Strangeways brewery plant was demolished. Once InterBrew (now Ab-Inbev) acquired Whitbread, the writing was on the wall.

Bod’s has changed a great deal over the years. But then, so have I. We both have a higher malt component, for one thing. Is it time to move on? Soft, very smooth and with almost no alcohol in evidence – the fond memories do come back, but they are fuzzy around the edges. Sweet, biscuity water. It used to be the cream of Manchester. Now, like myself, it’s merely fading into a faint, middling bitterness.