How Beer Can Save Russia

Inveterate teetotaler Moscow Mayor Yuri Luzhkov raises a beer mug to the cheers of an enthusiastic crowd ... A pair of newlyweds offers a new response to the customary Russian wedding slogan, “Gorko!” (“Bitter!”), exchanging kisses in front of a poster for Ochakovskoye beer ... A vigorous, well-built guy in his late 20s sets a new local record by lifting a 30 kg beer barrel 51 times ...

Welcome to the traditional Moscow Beer Festival at Luzhniki stadium, now an inalienable local ritual for guests and Muscovites alike. It is a far cry from even three years ago, when Russian Life first reported on the event. Back then, out of 20 types of beer at the festival, only three (Baltika, Nevskoye and Petergof) were Russian-made. Today, Russian brands dominate, while just Tuborg and the Turkish Efes represent foreign brewers. And even Efes is brewing locally.

Domestic beer production has been steadily on the rise the last half-decade. In 1995 only 170 mn dcl were produced in Russia. In 1996 the figure rose to some 220 mn dcl, then to 253 mn dcl in 1997. This year beer production is predicted to reach 520 mn dcl, while imports account for just 5% of all consumption.

The crash of 1998 was the push that spawned serious local beer production. Import prices on beer put foreign brands out of reach of the average Ivan. Local producers scrambled to fill the breach, and helped change local drinking habits: in 1999, the average Russian drank 31 liters of beer a year. Today that number is 37 liters.

The list of local brews keeps expanding: the well-known Afanasy (from Tver), Baltika and Vienna (from St. Petersburg), and Ochakovskoye are no longer the only players on the market. Klinskoye (Klin), Bochkarev (St. Petersburg), Yarpivo (Yaroslavl), and Tulskoye (Tula) are all rising fast in popularity.

In fact, it seems there is hardly a city or town in Russia left without a locally brewed beer. There is Zolotaya Bochka (Golden Barrel) from Kaluga, Sibirskaya Korona (Siberian Crown) from Omsk, and the Three Bears from Kaliningrad. And such provincial cities as Kursk and Perm are also shipping their beers to Moscow. In Simbirsk, Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov’s (Lenin) hometown (it was named Ulyanovsk from 1924-1991), Vityaz brewing company has come out with Ullyanovskoye ...

Efes has a Russified local brand, Stary Melnik (“Old Miller” — not to be confused with the watery Miller Beer from the US), positioned to appeal to youth and the middle-aged alike. At the Luzhniki festival, Stary Melnik sponsored one of the best concert programs, with groups ranging from the pop Khali-Gali to the solid Russian-style rock Gulyay Pole.

“Pivo, kholodnoye pivo, piva skoree naley!” (“Beer, oh cold beer, just quickly pour me some beer!”), sang the frenzied rockers from Gulyay Pole. “Was the beer all right today, guys?” asks Gulyay Pole’s lead singer, a bearded 30-ish rocker (and one to whom beer is clearly not an unknown, to judge by his beer belly). “I can’t hear you ...”

“Da-a-a!” comes the yell from the crowd, an interesting mixture of hard rock fans in leather jackets and tattooed athletic types with bared chests.

In fact, Old Miller is a rather neutral lager. It has what local beer lovers call a “non-committal” factor. “You can have like five or six Stary Melniks, then you relieve yourself, and you’re ready to rock again,” explains Sasha, a twenty-something lover of Melnik, wiping sweat from his chest.

Next to Stary Melnik you can see good-old Ochakovo (from Moscow). Ochakovo was the first Russian brewery to bottle beer in plastic (1994) and in cans (1995). It is an average beer of roughly the same quality as Stary Melnik, but the packaging and design is very well conceived, with a colorful, bearded Russian merchant hoisting a foamy beer mug. Ochakovo is also one of the rare Russian breweries which has sold no stock to foreign investors—something to help boost sales among patriots. At Ochakovo’s stand, there is a disco stage, women’s mud wrestling, pillow fights, grafitti contests, beer darts and beer streetball.

Unlike these newcomers, Russia’s largest brewery — St. Petersburg-based Baltika — feels it needn’t bustle with discos or mud fights. Baltika recently celebrated its 10th anniversary and casts a more dignified air under the sun at Luzhniki. Instead of sexy singers and discos, Baltika prepared love potions of shashlik for R90 (less than $4) which, served with Georgian lavash [a flat, sourdough bread] makes for a very welcome supplement to the beer.

But Baltika did take the occasion of the festival to launch several new brands, namely its honey-based Medovoye (strong and light) and the fresh, new #10 (with a light, almondy taste), now available in 0.33 liter bottles. Of course, there is the good old classic #3 lager, plus #4 — Originalnoye — a red ale so tasty that “the very first mug is soaked up by the tongue,” as a local Baltika addict professed. And don’t even get me started about Baltika’s hearty Porter (#6). Off the tap, it is tastier even than the bottled version, although pretty soon after imbibing the dark liquid, your legs — and head — feel a bit too relaxed.

Baltika was selling its beer at R20 for a half-liter here, but one could also shop around and find superb beer on tap for much less. For example, the Luzhniki red ale, brewed locally and sold only on tap at sporting events, is just R12 (less than 50 cents) and can more than hold a candle to fine British ales.

For those who had the patience to line up for the dark Barkhatnoye (“Velvet”) at a low-profile booth sponsored by the Moscow brewery Moskvoretsky didn’t regret it. The aptly-named Velvet coats your tongue and stomach so softly, that I only wished I had brought along an empty container to bring some Barkhatnoye home for domestic sampling.

Finally, in search of a “nightcap,” we drop by the Yarpivo stand, where the smiling Olga pours off Yarpivo dark and Yantarnoye (amber). Another dark would probably be too much, but the golden Yantarnoye was just what the doctor ordered to make the festival complete.

On our way back—oh, sweet surprise!— we spied a long row of pay toilets, put up by the festival organizers to spare the stadium grass and bushes from “unwanted incursions.” They do know how to organize things here when they really want to!

Surprisingly, even though most visitors were, well, pretty loaded by the end of the day (admission was free, only the beer and food cost), beer lovers distracted themselves in an unexpectedly quiet fashion — by local standards that is. They jumped into the fountain, shared hot kisses on the lap here and there, and generally wandered about under the hot sun. But one somehow expects inebriated Russians to come up with something spicier — like crashing bottles on each other’s heads or something ...

But no, when a girl in her late teens spilled a glass of beer on someone’s head because her boyfriend pushed her (this is how they court each other these days), I expected the boyfriend to be in trouble. But he merely placed his hand where his heart is and, with an apologizing gesture, begged pardon in a very polite, though somewhat mumbling Russian. His victim responded with a disarming “Nichevo strashnovo!” (“Nothing terrible happened”), a broad smile and an invitation to close the incident with a joint toast ...

It must be that the very nature of beer sets a totally different mood than vodka. The proverb inscribed on Ochakovo’s leaflet said it all: “Nothing warms up one. s soul better than cold beer!” When the soul is warm, there is no room for aggression.

In fact the appeasing effect of beer was noted even by the police officers (whose detachment seemed to number 5-800) . According to a local police officer who declined to identify himself, only about 15 arrests were registered throughout the entire weeklong festival (July 15-23). This is truly an amazing figure for an alcohol-related holiday with 300,000 participants. “It’s simply because beer unites people,” explained sergeant Andrei B., contemplating the jovial beer crowd jumping into the fountain. One could read in his eyes how much he wished he could join them ...

Hey, maybe this new beer fever is the new, much sought after National Idea which will unite our wayward nation? After all, we know that our present president has a warm spot in his soul for a cold beer ...

The fireworks on Sunday night of this Russian “Summer Oktoberfest” were a very nice finale. For those who missed it, there is always next summer.

As to me, like in this classic fairy tale, “I was there, drank honey and beer, and down my moustache it dripped.” But, unlike in the fairy tale, it DID get to my mouth.