On a darkening afternoon in early 2012, I was whiling away the hours in a small pub in a small town amidst the grandeur of the Canadian Rockies. As heavy flakes transformed the streets outside to a uniform blanket of whiteness, my drinking companion—a proud, grizzled French-Canadian—lumbered off to fetch a round. I gritted my teeth, anticipating some form of unrefined liquor that I would have to tolerate politely.
To my amazement, he returned from the bar clutching a couple of brown glass bottles that were emblazoned with a familiar red roundel.
“This is my favorite beer,” he said.
I was compelled to agree. It was Coopers Sparkling Ale, and the first sip sent me reeling on a wave of homesickness and appreciation for my small corner of the world, some 9,000 miles away in South Australia.
The fact that I’d traveled so far only to find myself drinking a hometown staple is testament not only to the global appeal of Sparkling Ale, but also to Coopers Brewery. Sparkling Ale is made by more than just one producer, but Coopers is the modern steward of the style, and arguably has done the most in shaping the template to which others aspire.
It’s been called Australia’s only native beer, which in some ways is true: Most contemporary sources recognize it as a fully individuated beer style, as ineffable as the concept of style might be. Archaeological and oral historical records indicate that grain-based fermented drinks were probably not produced by indigenous Australians, though grain cultivation was almost certainly practiced, and it is very rare that this did not go hand-in-hand with brewing activities of some description. Nevertheless, European arrival in Australia brought with it a far more intensive agricultural economy, and centuries of established brewing tradition. Sparkling Ale may represent the most significant relic of colonial brewing that has carried over to the modern day.
As with most corners of the British Empire at the time, the first recorded beer brought to Australian shores was either Porter or a strong form of Burton, a British staple that was the forefather of the modern IPA. Peter Symons, a Sydney-based brewing historian, says that a lot of the Scottish and English beers that were imported into Australia in the late 19th century were labeled as Sparkling Ale. It just so happened that this style of beer—like others from Scotland and England—shaped the tastes of colonies. Symons notes that attributes of Sparkling Ale arriving in Australia included an effervescent, “fairly alcoholic,” and very dry beer.
Early brewers in the colony would have wanted to make every effort to mirror the beers they recalled from home and celebrated their Britishness, but it would quickly become clear that transplanted British traditions tended to be less successful in the inverted climes of the Southern Hemisphere. Luxury crops like hops were slow to establish, and quality barley often had to be substituted with less finicky adjunct grains like corn or rice, or more commonly, simple sugar—not to mention that the traditional heavy malt profile of British styles fared somewhat worse under the oppressive Australian sun.
“The response from some of the local breweries was to simply take whatever was the draught beer of the day, and call it Sparkling,” says Symons. “They already had a similar product. In early Coopers brewing books, it’s Ale. The market around the turn of the century required a Sparkling Ale, so it became Sparkling Ale. They targeted the same market as the imports.”
“The market around the turn of the century required a Sparkling Ale, so it became Sparkling Ale. They targeted the same market as the imports.”
It can be tempting to dismiss Sparkling Ale as an early offshoot of Pale Ale, without any notable idiosyncrasies to help define the liminal space separating the two. Most contemporary stylistic guidelines highlight a focus on Australian ingredients, but beyond this and some more proscribed production techniques, the difference is minimal. Though delineation between styles has never been an immutable barrier, for those of us who grew up on it, Sparkling Ale has a highly distinctive character.
Topher Boehm is the founder and head brewer at Sydney-based mixed fermentation specialist Wildflower Brewing & Blending. Though he originally hails from Texas, he fell under the thrall of Sparkling Ale during a stint working in mainland Australia’s tallest mountain range. “I was working in the Snowy Mountains on a sheep station for a bit, and that’s what you’d have at the end of the day—every generation would be drinking the same beer,” he says. “In the States, where we do have a particularly strong craft beer culture, there was nothing like that.”
The remarkable story of Coopers Brewery is worthy of note in and of itself. It exists as an anomaly, outside the known templates, neither small and plucky upstart nor corporate monolith, and while it carries some of the cultural accoutrements of the seasoned craft-era veterans, it hails from a different period entirely. Founded in 1862, Coopers Brewery is a sixth-generation family company. Australia’s largest independent brewery and fourth largest beer brand, it has weathered several aggressive acquisition attempts and today accounts for a respectable 5% of the Australian national beer market.
It’s been far from an easy road, though.
“Through the first half of the 20th century, simply existing was an issue,” Symons says. “Nearly all the smaller breweries in the capital cities had gone. Coopers is an anachronism." Not only has Coopers had skin in the game for close to two centuries now, well and truly earning its brand loyalty, it hasn’t come this far without learning a thing or two along the way.
Over the last few decades, many steps have been taken to modernize the operation, including stylistic experimentation, a highly successful venture into the homebrew market, and most recently leaning heavily into a shift from the historic brown bottle to modern cans. But it is the unbroken thread of traditional Ale production that keeps Coopers fans coming back.
Michael Shearer, current general manager at Coopers, says that its supporters are proud to know they are buying from an Australian-owned-and-operated brewery.
"Their loyalty has seen us continue to punch above our weight in the national market,” he says. “Little has changed with the product since Thomas Cooper brewed his first batch of Sparkling Ale in 1862.”
“Their loyalty has seen us continue to punch above our weight in the national market. Little has changed with the product since Thomas Cooper brewed his first batch of Sparkling Ale in 1862.”
It’s tempting to dismiss this claim as hollow brewery marketing hyperbole, Symons’ independent research backs it up. At the 2018 Australian National Homebrew Conference in Melbourne, he served 1895, 1927, and 1975 variants of Sparkling Ale that were brewed according to historical recipes from the Coopers archives. The main change over the years was in the hop bill, with the earlier two utilizing more traditional European varietals East Kent Goldings and Saaz, and the latter hopped with the now standard Pride of Ringwood, developed at the Ringwood Hop Research Station near Melbourne in the mid-20th century. The beers were presented in a tasting alongside a modern version during his talk. Although they were hopped differently and the grist varied, Symons says that the universal consensus was that there was a clear family lineage.
Sparkling Ale contains multitudes: archetypically Australian, though not necessarily; a family tradition and the intellectual property of the whole country; a beer with clear definition and a stylistically enigmatic moving target.
Pikes Brewing, in the Eden Valley, is another South Australian operation with strong historical credentials. It produced beer from 1886 through to the mid-20th century, when its focus of operations shifted to wine. It was resurrected in 1996 with the rising tide of craft beer by Pike family members themselves. Sparkling Ale formed a cornerstone of the brand, leveraging historical family recipes from the colonial era. Although the reintroduced beer was called “New Sparkling,” it was a Sparkling Ale in name only, and it was more accurately rebranded as a Pilsner in the early 2000s.
This mirrors a similar branding shift that occurred at a somewhat more famous brewery almost a century earlier, notes Symons, when the Cascade brewery in Hobart switched to bottom fermentation sometime around the end of the 1920s, without noting the change. “They were still selling Sparkling Ale,” says Symons, eyebrow cocked. “I’ve not got data to absolutely say that it was a Lager, but it’s highly probable."
These are extreme examples that demonstrate that, despite our best efforts at classification, brewing appellations do not always serve the purposes we intend for them.
There’s nothing new under the sun though, as they say, and for Boehm, at least, Sparkling Ale draws an obvious parallel.
“I used to like calling Coopers Sparkling ‘Australian Saison.’”
“I used to like calling Coopers Sparkling ‘Australian Saison,’” he says, acknowledging the potential disruption such a statement could cause. “When you break down the style guidelines, they’re pretty similar. We opened Wildflower in 2016, and we held an event showcasing the beers that had influenced us, so there was Dupont, there was some Thiriez, some Jester King, and much to everyone’s surprise we also sourced a keg of Coopers Sparkling. So many people that day said they’ve never approached it as a beer to break apart in that way.” He produced his own riff on the style in all but name with How’s the Serenity, a mixed-fermentation saison drawing heavy inspiration from Sparkling Ale.
To some, using a mixed-strain yeast culture for a traditional pub beer might sound like a fairly wild departure. However, Coopers only moved to a single-strain inoculation in the 1990s, following periodic downshifts over the preceding decades in the heterogeneity of the culture used. Considering the open fermentation practices and potentially lengthy barrel-aging stints that were hallmarks of beer before the Industrial Revolution, it might not be so radical.
Others have gone some way to putting their own stamp on things. Wollongong-based 5 Barrel Brewing recently released their take, which featured potatoes in the mash. Boehm cites Mouse Tracks, a collaboration Beer between Creature Comforts and Off Color Brewing, as the closest interpretation a brewery in the States has so far been able to produce, but even this showcased some fairly sharp deviations from the template.
There is a common thread though, and an obvious one from the name—the carbonation profile is a key feature. This is primarily driven by bottle conditioning, which is intimately tied with Coopers in the Australian beer-drinking world, though the technique is used the world over by brewers with various ends, from Belgian Golden Ales to heavy-hitters from America like Alesmith’s Speedway Stout. Some have suggested that it is in bottle conditioning that the heart of the style lies.
One thing Sparkling Ale is not, however, is a catch-all term for Australian-origin beer styles generally, as Symons points out, citing the style guidelines of the Beer Judge Certification Program, or BJCP.
"American homebrewers will look at the category in the BJCP and they’ll produce something that bears very little resemblance, because they’ve never tasted it,” he says. “Pacific Ale has changed the market, but the Pacific Ale is an American wheat beer, with Galaxy. People tend to call it Sparkling Ale, but it’s not."
So how is Sparkling Ale faring today? On the one hand, the Coopers powerhouse is unlikely to slow down any time soon. “Sparkling Ale is one of Coopers’ foundation beers and one of its most iconic,” says Shearer. According to recent retail market data it’s the No. 2 ranked craft beer sold in Australia, only behind Coopers Original Pale Ale.
Exactly where an internationally available, mass-produced beer fits within the craft spectrum is up to the individual to decide, but it’s certainly true that Coopers has a stranglehold. It’s rare that craft offerings will consciously take up the Sparkling Ale mantle—you can browse tap handles and bottle shop shelves for a long time before you come across one—preferring instead ambiguous appellations like “Australian Ale.” There seems to be an imperceptible barrier to modern breweries cutting themselves a slice of Sparkling Ale, whether this is self-imposed out of respect for their forebears, or driven by consumer preference.
After amending the Pilsner misnomer, Pikes Brewing came up with a new version of its Sparkling Ale in 2013. Alister Pike, the current manager/owner and the sixth generation of his family to run the brewery, says that that product was meant to align with contemporary tastes.
“It was essentially an American-Style Pale Ale,” he says. “The beer was filtered and force-carbonated." He acknowledges that it fell somewhat outside the style guidelines as exemplified by Coopers Sparkling Ale. “If you put our version next to theirs it was quite obvious, they were not in the same category of beer styles.”
Another redesign occurred in 2016, including a reintroduction of the crucial bottle-conditioning process, but that was not enough to resurrect a floundering product, with Pike’s Sparkling Ale discontinued in 2020. “After five-plus years of pushing our own Sparkling Ale out into the increasingly crowded craft beer market, the product was simply not moving like it used to,” says Pike. “I believe that if this particular beer was called a Pale Ale it would still be around today.”
So, for now, Sparkling Ale exists within the confines of a relatively benign monopoly, and while others may be free to try their hand at brewing their own versions, they would first need to contend with the well-established conceptions of a fervent fan base. All things considered, it could be worse—one needs only to look at cautionary tales from other historical styles. California Steam Beer was “protected” through Anchor Brewing Company’s corporate trademark that could very well end up being its death knell, whilst Germany’s native Gose has been subjected to death by a thousand cuts from ruthless breweries nonchalantly tearing their piece off, whittling away at any of the original peculiarities that made the style unique. In the long term, the fate of Sparkling Ale rests in the hands of the drinking public.
It’s certainly in no danger on its home turf, where Sparkling Ale is held in a warm regard that borders on ardor. Pike praises its inimitability: "Coopers Sparkling is so unique in the market, and I don’t think their version is going to be falling out of public awareness any time soon." Shearer agrees, noting that as a product, Sparkling Ale continues to experience growth even today, over a century after it was introduced to market. This reflects the view of a company with a vested interest in the success of their business, though. Symons’ opinion is more grounded, if a little cynical: "If Coopers get taken over, that’s the last you’ll see of Sparkling Ale,” he says. Boehm finds a more harmonious middle ground. "Coopers Sparkling Ale is the beer that the style was built around,” he says. “It existed before the styles did.”
When it comes to it, let’s hope that the style can also outlive the beer.
Words by Rob HornerPhotos by Jessie McKay
