It might be the bitterly cold winters, it might be their proximity to Russia, it might be a national cuisine famously described by French president Jacques Chirac as even worse than Britain’s, but one thing is clear: Finns are not demonstrative people. Displays of overt, robust emotion are not their thing, by and large.
So when, in 2004, a group of Finnish beer lovers awarded Sussex brewery Harvey’s a unique certificate, it was quite a moment. According to Olutseura Olviretki (‘Beer Club AleTour’), Harveys’ Christmas Ale perfectly encapsulated the key elements of a festive beer as set out in Seven Brothers, the most famous novel by Finland’s national author Aleksis Kivi. It was (and still is!) “strong”, “dark red”, and caused “a slight dizziness in [the] brain”.
Christmas meant stronger beer, often brewed in October and longer aged
Kivi’s novel came out in 1870 when ale was a central part of Christmas celebrations across Northern Europe. In Britain, as in Finland, Christmas meant stronger beer, often brewed in October and longer aged to soften the edges. In December 1888, for example, the Phillips Brewery advised readers of the Oxford Times not to miss out on their “Christmas Specialities”: a strong ale, a double [i.e. stronger than usual] stout and an ale aged for two years.
These were powerfully flavoured beers designed to accompany the rich, fatty, indulgent dishes then central to, and still part of, a British Christmas: plum pudding, stilton and roast meat of various kinds – this was a time when most Britons did not drink wine. Beers were dark and heady, like liquid Christmas Pudding, and often stronger than 10% ABV.
Raising a glass to Christmas Ale
In the years since, ‘Christmas Ale’ as an idea has ebbed and flowed without ever fully disappearing. You’ve probably seen modern cask-ale iterations on the bar in December – they’re generally called something unoriginal like ‘Naughty Rudolf’ or ‘Santa’s Sack’ – but too often they’re a shadow of their Victorian forebears, both in terms of strength and flavour.
A more appealing drop of Christmas Ale can be found just across the Channel. Like many of Britain’s best brewing ideas, Christmas Ales have been nurtured by the Belgians, people who never saw a beer they didn’t think could be improved by whacking up the ABV a bit. My favourites of the festive Belgian options are St Bernardus Christmas Ale (10% ABV; dark and full of dried fruit character), De Dolle Stille Nacht (12%; honey and spice), and the unique Bons Voeux, made by Dupont in Wallonia. First brewed in 1970 for the brewery’s most loyal customers (hence Bons Voeux, or ‘Good Wishes’), this golden 9.5% ale is spicy, dry and highly carbonated. Excellent with a Christmas bird, too.
The spicy character in Bons Voeux comes from the way in which the beer is fermented, but plenty of other Christmas beers add spice as an ingredient. The best example in the UK might be Anspach and Hobday’s Pfeffernüsse Stout, which combines nutmeg, black pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, star anise and more in a rich, malty, dark ale – a real taste of Christmas, German-style.
The Harvey's Brewery in Sussex
This is what I like most about Christmas ale: it connects Britain to the rest of northern Europe. It’s a reflection of beer’s wider culture and history, which is a story of ideas shared and stolen, of a golden thread running from this country to the heart of Mitteleuropa. This thread takes no account of the Channel – or the Baltic.
Harvey’s Christmas Ale was first brewed in 1972 by head brewer Anthony Jenner, making the beer one of, if not the oldest, British Christmas ale still in production. It’s now made by Anthony’s son (and current head brewer) Miles, who has tweaked it only a little in terms of ingredients. Around 20,000 half-pints of this 7.5% ABV ale are sold each Christmas. For Londoners who want to try it, the Royal Oak in Borough, a pub owned by Harvey’s, is the place to go.
Even better, head for Lewes, where Harveys’ brewhouse is decorated for Christmas, its windows filled with murals by Sussex artist Julian Bell depicting the visit of the Magi. And the beer? It’s a biscuity, warming, vinous mouthful, perfect for the most wonderful time of year. You can see why it got a Finnish thumbs-up: Aleksis Kivi would surely have enjoyed the experience of letting it go to his head.
