The Perfect Pint of Guinness: Understanding Quality and Culture

When Ian Ryan lived in Ireland’s Cork city, he could always find a decent pint of Guinness. However, upon emigrating to London three years ago, he struggled to locate a well-poured glass of the black stuff.

Often, his drink had either too much or too little of the white creamy head. Consequently, there were countless pints that carried an air of tragedy. Nightlife in London became defined by subpar Guinness.

Ian began sending photos to friends in Ireland, confirming a running joke among his friends—that Guinness simply doesn’t taste as good outside of the island. Ian claims, “There was always a running joke, especially when you’re hanging out with English lads—it was always a ‘no’ when they asked, ‘Is that a good one there?'”

In late 2019, Ian founded the sardonic shitlondonguinness, an Instagram account dedicated to documenting terrible pints served in England’s capital. Almost immediately, the account attracted thousands of supporters, with messages pouring in. ShitLondonGuinness receives 30 to 40 DMs from London alone every Friday, when pubs are open. Global participation followed, from Canada to New Zealand. Last year, millions were introduced to the issue of bad pints when Northern Irish actor Jamie Dornan mentioned shitlondonguinness on the Graham Norton Show, resulting in approximately 30,000 new followers in a single weekend.

What Makes a Good Pint of Guinness?

A proper pint of Guinness requires attention and care. It should be poured in two parts: first, the glass is held at a 45-degree angle until it fills just over three quarters. Then, it’s placed to one side to settle before being topped up while upright. Moreover, optimal taste is contingent on regular keg use and appropriate gas pressure. Unfortunately, bar staff who aren’t accustomed to serving Guinness may inadvertently result in poorly prepared pints.

What Makes a Bad Pint of Guinness?

One distressed drinker recounted seeing large plastic pitchers filled with Guinness in a Bremen bar. When Cormac Ahearn visited New York, he experienced a tepid pint in a 300ml vessel rather than a standard 567ml pint glass. Similarly, Rebecca Carrone was mortified by a mixture of Guinness and Kilkenny ale sold by her employer, dubbed a Black and Tan—named after a notorious class of British soldiers in Ireland during the 1920s.

Contributors to shitlondonguinness are often Irish. Ian reflects on why bad Guinness provokes such strong feelings: “There’s a part of the Irish psyche that feels nearly offended by the sight of a bad pint; it feels like a sin against your Irish roots.”

How Do I Find a Good Pint of Guinness?

A memorable drinking experience transcends taste or presentation. According to Steve Gilsenan, Guinness Global Head of Quality at St. James’s Gate, pints are always better for an Irish person when enjoyed in a bar in Ireland. The best pints are often associated with specific events or memories. Gilsenan mentions, “The Guinness that goes into the can is exactly the same beer—but I would never say it’s the same experience as the pub…”

While there are plenty of bad pints, good ones also abound if you know where to seek them out. ShitLondonGuinness has a popular sister account, beautifulpints. Discussions surrounding what constitutes a good pint can be contentious; however, this demonstrates the enthusiasm of drinkers for the black stuff. It’s particularly evident among the Irish, with around 90% of the drinks showcased in beautifulpints stemming from Ireland.

Why Do Irish People Love Guinness?

“What I’ve enjoyed about traveling is that everyone has an opinion on it; everyone has a perspective. Particularly among the Irish,” Gilsenan remarks. “When going out with two Guinness drinkers, they will decide where you go.”

The link many Irish feel towards Guinness is profound. Beyond marketing efforts, Guinness has influenced Dublin’s architecture, constructing numerous houses for its employees—many of which stand to this day. Despite this, consumption is not exclusive to Ireland; both the UK and Nigeria consume more Guinness than Ireland.

In her 2003 paper for the New Hibernia Review, Pure Genius: Guinness Consumption and Irish Identity, Brenda Murphy asserts that Guinness has woven itself into the community fabric, impacting daily lives in ways that traditional advertising fails to achieve.

Ultimately, Ireland’s obsession with the perfect pint of Guinness represents a form of soft nationalism, according to satirist and podcaster Blindboy Boatclub. This phenomenon often resonates with the diaspora, who take pride in promoting products associated with their homeland.

“The notion that the quality of Guinness outside of Ireland fundamentally differs from that at home is something we embrace as a performance,” Blindboy notes, emphasizing, “In the absence of a national food culture, a pint of plain becomes your mainstay.”