
We spend four weeks getting a lager right and about eleven seconds handing it over. That eleven seconds decides how it smells, how long the head lasts and whether the last third is still worth drinking.
A rinsed glass at cellar temperature is the whole trick. Anything left on the surface, detergent film or dust, kills the head before it forms and leaves the beer flat in the hand.
Forty five degrees to start, straight up for the last third, and let it build its own head rather than chasing one. Two fingers of foam is not waste, it is the aroma sitting where you can smell it.
Everyone learns the pour in their first week, when they are learning twenty other things at the same time. We teach it again a month later, once the rest is automatic and there is room to notice the difference. That second session is where it stops being a rule and starts being a habit.
Small-batch brewery and twelve-tap room on the harbour. Cold-fermented, unhurried, poured properly.