There’s something quietly revolutionary in a pint made with hops grown on these very islands. At Apex, we think of it as a love letter to British soil. Brewing with homegrown hops isn’t a trend – it’s a statement. A statement that flavour doesn’t need exotic imports. That British-grown really can hold its own – and even outperform the mightiest of overseas varieties.

For us, it matters deeply. We’re farmers as well as brewers, and every hop in our brewhouse is a symbol of that connection to the land. The roots in the soil, the hands that pick, the cones that get dried and baled and shipped down the road – they’re part of the same fabric that holds our farm together. When we say we brew with British hops, it isn’t about chasing some patriotic slogan. It’s about pride in what grows here, about showing that the best beers can be born out of the same hedgerows and fields that surround us in England.

And the hops themselves? They’re far from dull. Take Admiral, for example. Bold, zesty, citrus-laced and herbal, it brings real punch to our pale ales and IPAs. Ernest is another favourite, named after Professor Ernest Salmon, the legendary breeder from Wye College. It’s apricot, citrus, spice – New World energy with a thoroughly British passport. Then there’s First Gold, a compact little dwarf hop with a big character, offering fruity, lightly spiced orange notes that make bitters and golden ales shine. Jester, bred by our friends at Charles Faram, brings grapefruit and tropical fruit in abundance – proper modern craft beer swagger but grown on British soil. Harlequin, also from Faram’s breeding programme, has quickly become a hero for us: passionfruit, peach, pineapple, a full tropical fruit salad of aroma and flavour, wrapped up in a hop that feels both exciting and dependable. It’s no surprise it recently scooped top prize at the British Hop Awards. These are not shy hops, nor pale imitations of their foreign cousins. They are confident, characterful, and utterly ours.

Charles Faram deserves a moment of applause here. We’ve worked with them for years, right from our nano-brewing days through to the scale we’re operating on now. They’ve championed British hop growing with imagination and sheer determination, developing new varieties that stand shoulder-to-shoulder with anything the US or Europe can throw at us. Their Hop Development Programme has given us flavour bombs like Jester and Harlequin, but also something less tangible: belief. Belief that British brewing doesn’t have to lean on imported hops to be exciting. Belief that what we grow here has a unique voice, worth shouting about in every pint we pour.

That’s why we’re so determined to stick to our guns. If a hop doesn’t come from British soil, we don’t use it. Simple as that. When we do work with hops that originally hail from abroad – like Chinook, which Faram have nurtured into a beautiful British-grown variant – we make sure it’s been through the same soil, the same climate, the same story as the rest of our crop. Because terroir matters. Place matters. And as farmers, we know that better than most.

So when you raise a pint of Apex beer and catch that flash of tropical fruit, or that grounding citrus backbone, or that subtle spice humming in the background, you’re tasting Britain. You’re tasting our soil, our growers, our weather, our stubbornness, our creativity. And you’re tasting the fruits of a brewing culture that doesn’t always shout about itself, but quietly, confidently delivers world-class flavour from our own backyard.

That’s the fun of it, really. Showing that you don’t need to chase fads from across the Atlantic or recreate whatever’s hot in Europe. We can have fun on our own soil, with our own ingredients, in our own way. And for us at Apex, that’s not just a nice idea – it’s the only way. Unless you mention the word ‘collaboration’ –  then, we’re willing and open to write a new ‘limited release’ chapter alongside another brewery. Until then, we’re flying our own flag.