The History, Controversy, and Cultural Significance of Mixed Guinness Drinks

“No on both levels”
“That looks Nawty”
“Am I going to look stupid trying this? Cause I gotta give it a go! 😅”
“JesusFuckingChrist”

Those four comments were typed in response to a Brit’s Instagram post showing “The Badger,” a drink brought to life like Frankenstein’s monster by mixing Guinness with Smirnoff Ice — in the U.K., a premixed, non-malt vodka drink sold in 700-milliliter servings.

The pour is striking with the instantly recognizable black stout sitting atop the opaque vodka “alcopop,” creating an optical illusion like a beer barcode. Further searches on social media reveal other fabulous viral creations in the U.K., such as Gonsters (Guinness and energy drink Monster), Irn-Bru Guinness (the stout mixed with the vibrant orange-hued Scottish soda), and Guinness and WKD Blue (another vodka-based alcopop).

Mixing beer with soft drinks is a controversial subject given the reverence for certain brands. This is especially true of Guinness, and these adaptations seem cheekily created to sow social media division.

There’s also the topic of the “mixers,” which could charitably be described as “acquired” tastes when drunk on their own. Unmixed WKD, for example, whisks me back to the sticky-floored nightclubs of provincial English towns, so let’s just say Guinness is doing a lot of heavy lifting to make this concoction even approach palatable.

It’s no coincidence that these striking drinks are proliferating online right now, between their striking appearances and the general Guinness discourse that persists on social media. But it is worth noting there’s actually a rich heritage of mixing the stout and that it has a lot of characteristics that make it ideal for beer cocktails.

Guinness, in fact, is a beer that some experts say has an unfounded reputation as a novelty cocktail ingredient, and when added to the right drink — and in the right way — can garner a lot of likes without stoking controversy.

Sweet Like Chocolate

In the days before their marketing became seriously expensive and imbued in a nostalgic bucolic Irishness, the makers of Guinness used to publicize mixing it in cocktails. This was a trend around the 1980s which saw U.K. posters advertising the versatility of the drink (along with problematic language of the time, such as the term “Black and Tan”).

“I’m unsure if [mixing] was encouraged in Ireland mind you,” says semi-anonymous Ireland-based beer writer and blogger Liam K. “I doubt it was. From the 1990s, ‘we’ became a little too precious about Guinness.”

It’s fair to debate whether the current crop of Guinness mixes can be considered bonafide cocktails. “This isn’t a proper blend by my book,” Liam K says. “It’s two separate drinks, just in one glass!”

“That’s not to make the association that women ‘need to drink sweet things.’ But it’s one way for women to get into the space of beer by trying a Guinness and black[currant] and then eventually trying it without it.”

He’s all for mixing Guinness when done well but prefers to use bottled Guinness over widget beer cans or draft kegs in pubs for logistic reasons, such as lower carbonation. “Bottled Guinness has a different bite, of course,” he adds.

When I press-gang Gaurav Khanna, the publican at the desi pub Gladstone in south London, into mixing numerous Guinness with soft drinks, he at first struggles with wastage caused by the stout’s carbonation. After a few pints mixed with Irn-Bru and some Gonsters, though, he nailed it. (At the end of the session we had to negotiate hard over my tab because we lost count of the amount of Guinness that was “tasted,” drunk or discarded.)

Natalya Watson is a beer sommelier, an Advanced Cicerone, and founder of the Virtual Beer School, and her Irish grandmother, Margaret, would order a Guinness and blackcurrant cordial. I meet her at an Irish-themed bar in London’s financial district — the City — where Guinness is churned out (and sold at a high price) to various besuited men. Despite my reticence, the bar staff are fine with adding cordial to our stouts to the point where it must be a common occurrence.

The sweetness of the blackcurrant takes the edge off the primary Guinness malt taste and mingles nicely with the bitterness — so much so that there really wasn’t any need for the drinkers next to us to scowl when they saw our tampered pints.

“This drink depends on whether you have a sweet tooth,” Watson says. “I definitely do.”

Regular Guinness is bitter, a taste Watson believes is hidden by the nitro pour, especially compared to an IPA or beers that take on bitterness from hops. She also claims that mixing it makes the space more inclusive and Guinness more accessible.

“That’s not to make the association that women ‘need to drink sweet things,’” she says. “But it’s one way for women to get into the space of beer by trying a Guinness and black[currant] and then eventually trying it without it.”

Dark Days of Empire

Women weren’t the only previously excluded group who were drawn to mixed Guinness drinks as a gateway into pubs. A lot of the Caribbean diaspora that started arriving on British shores after the Second World War to rebuild the country — the so-called Windrush generation — would often ask for a splash of Tia Maria to be added.

In a south-east London pub, Jamaican-born retired engineer Talbot Murray, aged 81, tells me this was his first drink at the Atlantic, Brixton in the mid-1960s, showing how far back this cultural phenomena stretches.

“You’d have a little bottle of [liqueur],” he says. “You’d add it and [it would] kill the bitterness.”

Watson believes that mixing Guinness in this way is similar to how people get into coffee — trying sweet caramel lattes before “graduating” to espressos and “appreciating the nuances.”

 “The Guinness in the right proportions gave a chocolate flavor and an alcohol warmth.”

Even in highly traditional places, such as Irish bars in Northern Ireland, the drink can be tweaked. Watson mentions a bar in Bangor, a seaside city in County Down, called Featly’s that mixes aged and fresh Guinness together. “They pour the room temperature keg first so it can settle, then top up with the colder keg,” she explains.

Mixing It Up

Mixing Guinness with Guinness is one thing but what if the revered stout were mixed with another revered beer?

Belgian brewery Timmermans has mixed lambics with Guinness for a few years, creating the ultimate luxury beer cocktail. A world away from Gonsters and Badgers — and even aged and unaged stout — Belgium beer is a UNESCO protected product and Timmermans has a cult-like following.

Thomas Vandelanotte, head brewer at Belgium’s John Martin Brewery, makers of Timmermans, started experimenting with mixing Guinness five years ago. His early R&D efforts involved young, old, and fruit lambics — specifically krieks that used whole cherries at 400 grams per liter.

The cherries used in these beers were sour with a slight citrusy and almond flavor, as they were aged without their pips removed. “We quickly noticed that when we used that beer together with [Guinness] Export Stout the result was phenomenal,” Vandelanotte says. “The Guinness in the right proportions gave a chocolate flavor and an alcohol warmth.”

“The cherries then came into play and you had like a cherry chocolate pie, which is later overtaken by a coffee flavor,” he adds. “It’s 40 seconds of flavor in your mouth.”

The mixed drink also radically altered the iconic color of the stout’s head, creating a brown-pink hue.

Vandelanotte used smaller barrels to store the beer to add an oaky touch. It took a few attempts to perfect and was a painstaking process with taste-tests in Belgium and in Ireland. The first successful batch was brewed five years ago and packaged on a small run of about 4,000 750-milliliter bottles. It proved a hit with drinkers that prompted immediate calls from Guinness to repeat the exercise.

For those without access to Timmermans’ Lambic & Stout, home hacks abound. I’ve found the best pairing for Guinness is a drink that won’t overwhelm the stout. Using something sweet, but not sickly sweet, produces great results — a cherry beer is ideal. I also feel that the heritage of the Windrush generation — my parents were born in the then Malay Peninsula — lives on in this drink and how we tweak it.

But if you’re looking for social media clout then throw all that out of the window, mix your Guinness with cold baked beans and sit back and watch the interactions.

Just don’t send me the resulting video.

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