Ancient water a winner for Budvar; BEER.

Byline: ALASTAIR GILMOUR BEER WRITER OF THE YEAR

WHEN 97% of your ingredients has been percolating, seeping, filtering and circulating for 10,000 years, 90 more days sitting in a metal tank is possibly neither here nor there.

That final resting place, however, is a crucial phase in the fermentation and maturation of one of the world's greatest beers.

Budweiser Budvar's water is drawn from an Ice Age lake lying 350 metres below the brewery in Ceske Budejovice, South Bohemia, in the Czech Republic. It has a near-perfect composition for brewing beer, requires no chemical treatment and, according to the company's public relations manager Petr Samec, "it is soft enough to be fed to babies".

He slips us this snippet in the impressive visitor centre as we enter a mining hoist cab which has four glass viewing panels in its floor. The doors close, there's a whoosh, a few rattles and shakes and we're off on a high-speed descent deep into the Earth, heading for the Ceske Budejovice Basin and hurtling past strata of sedimentary rock formations. Except we're not; it's all an illusion and we've never actually moved from the spot. Being duped by clever theatricals is a clever way to start a brewery tour.

Before our break-neck "plunge" we've been treated to a breakfast beer, a 10.15am livener which, by Czech standards, is probably a late start (we've sat down at 7.30am on previous trips to the Czech Republic in company with blue-overalled shift workers and young office staff enjoying a pre/post-work beer served with sliced cheese and cold meats).

As a starter for the day, the golden, softly carbonated beer is a contender for a "perfect breakfast drink" award - a terrific level of bitterness develops through its spice-infused, yeast-influenced flavours to finish with a peppered edge.

Petr Samec raises his glass and wishes the visiting party "na zdravi" (good health). "Our beer is fermented for 12 days at 2 deg C and then conditioned for 90 days," he says. "It's like shining a precious jewel."

We are shown around by Petr and the remarkable Josef Tolar, Budweiser Budvar's expansively enthusiastic and hugely knowledgeable brewmaster who more than likely talks beer in his sleep. His pride is firmly on the surface as he points out stainless steel tanks each with 100,000 hectolitre capacity, which work out at 16 tonnes of steel each holding 377 tonnes of beer built on four levels with nine tanks on each floor. Josef enjoys impressing with figures almost as much as with beer.

"We are lagering (storing) for 90 days, not only in the newspaper but in reality," he says. "In German breweries where I was a student they were so proud of the fact that they lagered for 100 days or 90 days or 80 days and I never forgot that."

The massive brewing hall is dominated by four huge copper vessels, their "chimneys" disappearing into the ceiling. A solitary figure sits at a desk at one end, controlling the whole process via a disproportionate set of switches and screens.

Josef says: "It's a combination of automated and manual procedures in the traditional Czech system, controlled by computer. The last elbow is given by Man to make sure there are no mistakes."

Hot beer pours out of a row of taps at 75 deg C, which he takes a scoop of and dishes around. It's malty in the extreme and so comforting it's almost a bedtime drink. We plunge our hands into sacks of Zatec hops which release nose-nipping aromas.

They are the pride of the Czech Republic and are used in virtually every one of the country's beers - as is sweet malted South Moravian two-row spring barley.

"Whole hops are more expensive than pellets or extract," says Josef, "but they repay themselves in quality and give a mild level of bitterness and are not aggressive; that's what we want in our beer. Zatec hops give beer a special character and affect drinkability, that's why Czech beers are so good."

Budvar's yeast strain is more than 100 years old and is constantly revived. The rules are strict - only two people are allowed to enter the yeast preparation room, then it is sterilised by steam. As Josef closes the door, he switches off the light. There comes a time when expansive enthusiasm stops at electricity waste.

We sample unfiltered Budvar drawn straight from horizontal tanks in deep, extremely cold cellars. And we thought the breakfast beer was near-perfect - this has a honeyed, citrus feel which sits contentedly on the palate and develops seemingly for ever, changing and evolving very slowly along flavour lines of yeasty bread, spice and marmalade, all the while taking it from sweet through to bitter. Peering down on huge bottling lines, the racket of clinking glass, slapping belts and rumbling conveyors dominate as empty bottles shuffle into place like little green soldiers going on parade. They look alive - certainly lively - and there's inevitably one bottle that can't seem to fit in line, then spins and appears lost until it eventually finds a space and nestles alongside its compatriots to be filled, capped, foil-sealed and sent off on manoeuvres.

Beer is deeply ingrained at every level of Czech society; its national and regional economies have run on it for centuries, as has its culture and social fabric. They are the world's biggest beer consumers per capita (164 litres - 288 pints - a year; Germany is second with 115 litres, whilst the UK comes in at number five with 96 litres, or 169 pints). Add to that a diet of pork and duck (with carp for a change), which are simultaneously delicious and fatty and served with several styles of dumpling, ubiquitous cabbage, plus the inevitable horseradish, and you'd expect obesity levels to match those of the UK. The opposite is true, however, but as far as we know, a Czech Paradox has never surfaced in the same way as the renowned French Paradox which links wine drinking to fat-laced diets only to end up celebrating some of Europe's lowest incidences of heart disease and fewest dietary ailments. There's obviously something in it; second brewer Ales Dvorak tells us about a recent visit to Glasgow. "The bottoms," he says, "I have never seen so many fat bottoms."

At lunch, we dine on Granny's pancake, old Bohemian garlic soup, Bohemian Forest duckling served with dumplings and cabbage. There's pork meat with blue cheese gratinee served with potatoes or pancakes and old Bohemia-style boiled pig's knuckle with horseradish.

Then there's Budweiser Budvar; freshly leafy, honeyed, spicy, biscuit malty, silky, long, soft, bitter - and no illusion.

www.budva [e-mail]

TASTE TEST FOR BEST IN FEST

MORDUE India Pale Ale (IPA) has been awarded "beer of the festival" by organisers of last week's Newcastle Beer Festival following a vote by 30 volunteer staff who listened to customers' comments, collected feedback and also judged the beers on their own personal experience.

Mordue IPA (5.1% ABV) is well structured with a big, spicy, peppery hop nose and a juicy malt, caramel body with some citrus fruit which develops bitterness in the finish. "We're well chuffed," says managing director Garry Fawson. "This year we didn't brew anything new for the festival, so it'seven better winning with one from our established range."

Second was Marble Ginger Beer (4.5% ABV) from Manchester - beautiful, the Gordon Strachan of ginger beers. Third was Fuller's ESB (5.5% ABV), the classic London extra strong bitter.

CAPTION(S):

VAST KNOWLEDGE Josef Tolar, brewmaster at Budweiser Budvar, Czech Republic.; ICE AGE ORIGIN The cap of the artesian well where water reaches the surfaces from an Ice Age lake