It has been strange to watch the appreciation for Czech beer expand in the English-speaking world, if only because so many of us outsiders see things backwards from how they really are here. Two of the country’s biggest brands, Pilsner Urquell and Budweiser Budvar, are rightly considered to be rivals—but as if the scene had been observed in a funhouse mirror, the roles they play in that rivalry are often presented as the opposite of what they really are. And, as with all things, those roles are changing.
The list of what non-Czechs get wrong about Czech beer is too long to fit on this website, but a few anecdotes might suffice. For years, both Pilsner Urquell and Budvar were listed as examples of the “Bohemian Pilsner” style in the BJCP guidelines, even though that style was identified as having 35–45 IBUs, while Budvar had just 22.5 IBUs. (A 2015 revision to the BJCP guidelines fixed that mistake.) Abroad, state-owned Budvar is sometimes called the country’s favorite beer, but that would be impossible to argue locally: Yes, it is still owned by the Czech state, but that doesn’t make it the favorite, which polls and surveys have long identified as Pilsner Urquell.
And while Asahi-owned Pilsner Urquell is a corporate juggernaut—technically a group of four separate breweries that together make up around 50% of the Czech market with their various brands—it is still respected, if not beloved, by both brewers and the general public here. When the festival of small breweries takes place each summer at Prague Castle, Pilsner Urquell is not included, because it is not a small brewery. But when Urquell’s brewmaster Václav Berka shows up at the event, he is often surrounded by a gaggle of owners and employees from small breweries who want to take pictures with him. It would be hard to imagine the brewmaster of one of the biggest American powerhouses—Miller or Budweiser, say—walking the floor at GABF and getting nothing but high fives.
That goes a long way towards saying that it’s hard to know what’s what in the Czech Republic, and that the situation here is not analogous to what is happening in the U.S., the U.K., or anywhere else. And yet, some of the same tropes occur. As elsewhere, nonalcoholic beer is growing. Even in a country that thinks that “beer” means “draft beer,” cans are becoming more and more common, just like in other countries, with even more of a push because of the pandemic. And as in other places, sometimes one brewery can steal another brewery’s shtick.
And that is what is happening with Budvar and Pilsner Urquell.
For years, Pilsner Urquell made a big deal out of how Czech beer—meaning its beer—is served. It highlighted the importance of clean, cool, and wet glassware for serving Czech Lager, as well as the importance of foam and the crucial role of the “tapsters” who draft the beer, creating special pours like nadvakrát, šnyt, and mlíko. All of which is more-or-less true. By contrast, Budvar, never strong on marketing muscle or new initiatives, mostly promoted its historic status as “the original Budweiser” and its century-long fight against the American imperialists, both of which seemed to play very well in the U.K., for reasons which I will leave to psychologists. Budvar also promoted its traditional, long-term lagering of 90 days, which remains impressive. But it was not the brand associated with specialty pours or high-quality tapping.
And yet a glance at Budvar’s Twitter or Instagram today will make you think you’re looking at a Pilsner Urquell account. There is the same emphasis on tapsters, though with a new name: “In the Republic of Beer, we don’t have bartenders—we have beertenders.” A slo-mo video details “the Budvar pour,” and tells us that “Beertenders in the Czech Republic are trained to bring Budvar’s character and flavor to life.” What about glassware and foam? “Beertenders in the Republic of Beer need every glass to be cold. Why? If the glass isn’t chilled and rinsed, the foam won’t form correctly, and without foam, Budvar just doesn’t taste the same.” Does it also offer special pours, like Pilsner Urquell’s šnyt and mlíko? Yes, in the form of řezané, a mix of Pale and Dark Lager that is inarguably more authentic, no matter how that word might be interpreted, than the all-foam mlíko served at Pilsner Urquell haunts like Lokál in Prague: “This special pour is truly Czech.” What about Pilsner Urquell’s side-pull or side-pour faucets? Budvar tells us that “The traditional side pull tap—known as the ‘engine’ of the Czech pour, is what makes the Czech pour so special. It helps control the ratio of foam to beer, shaping taste, aroma and drinkability.” Just like Pilsner Urquell’s tapsters, Budvar’s social-media beertenders are equipped with leather aprons, to say nothing of prominent tattoos and facial hair.
That’s not the only shift. Locally, the state-owned brewery is now pushing its new Budvar 33, with 33 IBUs, which actually puts it within the BJCP guidelines of 30–45 IBUS for the style they now call “Czech Premium Pale Lager,” and much closer to Pilsner Urquell’s IBU level of around 35 to 37, depending on who you ask at the brewery. Most beer fans here would agree that Budvar 33 tastes more “Czech.” They might also say that it’s much more like Pilsner Urquell.
I find no fault with Budvar’s new direction: It truly is important how a beer is tapped and served, especially in the Czech lands, and it’s nice to see Czech brands promoting that idea abroad. Nor am I completely surprised by the shift, as Budvar is now run by Petr Dvořák, a former global brand director for Pilsner Urquell, who shared his thoughts about promoting Czech beer culture in 2019. Properly tapping a beer is part of Czech beer culture. Clean, cool, and wet glassware is as well. Side-pull taps and leather aprons can be part of it. Tattoos and facial hair are optional.
But there is another reason I’m not surprised by Budvar seeming more like Pilsner Urquell, and that is enantiodromia: a fancy way of saying that many things eventually turn into their opposites. I’ve written about this idea and craft beer elsewhere, so I’ll avoid plagiarizing myself now. But without overstating things too much: We have just lived through a year of radical change, where the unexpected has often become commonplace. Roles have changed, and roles will continue to change.
Obviously, no one knows exactly what’s to come, though I’m fairly certain the Czech state is unlikely ever to become the owner of Pilsner Urquell. Will that brand always rank as the country’s favorite beer, with Budvar as its eternal underdog? On that point, the future remains unwritten.
