Northward bound

No rush this morning. My flight isn't until 14:20. I leave home around 11:00.

Schiphol s fairly busy. I can see a big queue at passport control. But that's not a problem for me. As I'm going to a Schengen country

Only pausing to get a bottle of duty-free Jura, I head to the lounge. The other KLM lounge at Schiphol. One I've only visited once or twice. As, most of the time, I’m either flying to outside Europe or to the UK. Which sort of isn’t in Europe any more.

This lounge has one big advantage: free pour spirits. No need to get two singles. I get a single double instead. So much simpler.

Not just being a pisshead, I get some food, too. Ham, cheese and olives. A real health food snack. Having quite a while before my flight, there's time for a few more whiskies. Mostly doubles. Though I do throw in a treble for the road.

“Why are you going to Norway?” Dolores asked when I told her of my trip.

“For the Norsk Kornølfestival.”

“What’s that?”

“A festival of farmhouse beers.”

“What are they?”

“Beers brewed on farms.”

“Haha. That’s it?”

“Sort of. It’s a bit more than that. A very old tradition.”

“It seems a long way to go just for that.”

“I’ve wanted to go for a while. It sounds dead interesting.”

“For you.”

“Well, that’s all that matters.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

I wonder if the flight is delayed as it takes a long while before "go to gate" comes on the screen. Which is when I leave the lounge.

It's quite a way to the gate. When I get there, everyone seems to have boarded. And it says "gate about to close". A couple of people arrive, sprinting, immediately after me. 

"Just in time. We're closing the gate in two minutes." The gate agent says.

Fuck me, I cut that fine. Totally unintentionally. It could have ended so badly. Like in all those airport videos on YouTube. Where passengers go ballistic when they arrive at the gate too late to board.

That’s happened to me a couple of times. Getting to the gate too late, I mean. Not going ballistic. That’s something I never do. At least not so far. Maybe that’s a future treat waiting for me.

The flight isn't very full. We're served a sarnie and a drink. Red wine for me. I’m happy enough with that. Especially as I deliberately loaded up with food in the lounge.

Sadly, there's low cloud and pissing rain when we arrive. Meaning I can't really appreciate how scenic the setting of Alesund is. I do manage to get a couple of half-decent snaps.

Landside, there's a group of people hanging around outside the terminal. Who are waiting for the bus to the festival. Including Matt Becker* and his wife Christina.

It's quite a trek to Hornindal. Three hours. Through dozens of tunnels. And with a 20-minute ferry ride in the middle. All through stunning scenery of mountains and fjords. Which only becomes more mysterious as dusk begins to fall and the sky darkens to purple and the mountains to transform into dark, lurking shadows. Black clouds swirl overhead like insane giant rooks.

It's 7:30 PM when we pull up at our hotel. Where we don't get much time to rest before the evening’s event. I go to dump my stuff in my room. Fuck me, what a view! Looking out over the lake and its flanking mountains.

I’m introduced to Lars Marius Garshol, one of the organisers. Someone I’ve known on the internet for a long time but never met in person before. It’s good to finally meet him. He’s doing some very valuable research into farmhouse brewing.

We're whisked off in a bus to a traditional farmhouse to drink farmhouse Ale. An old wood cabin with a turf roof and a roaring open fire. It's very cosy.

The first beer is served by dipping a ladle into an open pot. Very old-fashioned. My first taste of this ancient type of beer. It’s herbal, fairly flat and quite refreshing. Very cloudy, too.

There are a few different beers. Varying quite a lot in character There's also cold meat and boiled potatoes to tuck into. Which I do.

I sit at a candle-lit table. While framed photographs of someone’s grandparents gaze down on the gathering. It’s very atmospheric. I chat with those seated around me. A mix of visitors and locals. One of the latter is Thor Humberset, a home brewer. Who explains a little about the beer he brews.

I work my way through all four beers. One is in a keg. Another two are in plastic jugs. All are quite herbal and a bit funky. Though each quite different from the other. They slip down easily enough. And I suspect are much stronger than they appear. Not that it bothers me. The stronger the better, as far as I’m concerned.

Christina Wade sits at the table. “We met at a homebrew thing in Dublin.” She says.

“That was a few years back. Weren’t you at my talk in Dublin last year?”

“No, I missed it. I was sick.”

“It was fun. An Englishman explaining Irish beer to Irish people in Ireland. I’m surprised I didn’t get lynched.”

“I heard it went very well.”

“I’m still alive, so it must have.”

At 10 PM the bus picks us up again. I go straight to my room. I’m not tempted to stay up any longer. I know my limits. And how much sleep I need.

In my room, after a quick whisky eye-closer, I drift off to sleep. 

 

* Owner/brewer at Becker brewery in Brighton, Michigan. We’ve collaborated on a couple of beers. 

Singapore slinging

No rush this morning. So, I don’t get up until 8:40. Simply because I didn’t want to get to breakfast too late.

I have the same as the other days: a fried egg and cheese with a single slice of toast. With orange juice and coffee, obviously. And fruit for pudding.

After a while, Carl Kins comes and sits with me. We chat a bit about Belgian beer and the joys of being retired.

Still feeling a bit knacked, I lie down for 45 minutes when I’m back in my room. After which I feel a little livelier. And fiddle around on the internet for a while.

The bus leaves at 12:00. I head down about ten minutes before. Leaving enough time for a quick double Jamesons at the hotel bar. I still have quite a few Singapore dollars to get through. I may as well spend them. And whiskey seems a good option.

On the bus, there’s a cooler full of leftover competition beers. I help myself to a Double IPA. The number looks familiar. I suspect that it’s one of the beers I judged. It’s not bad. And keeps me hydrated as we bounce along the road.

First stop is Nanyang Sauce, a traditional soy sauce factory. We begin outside. Where terracotta jars full of fermenting soya beans sit in the sun. There’s a lovely savoury smell in the air. It takes nine months out in the sun to finish the process. After which, the soy sauce is harvested.

It’s hot out in the sun. Fucking hot. It’s a relief when we move inside.

The factory was established in 1959. By the grandfather of the bloke showing us around. Whose passion for soy sauce is evident. He speaks eloquently of the traditional process and the superior sauce that it produces.

Our visit ends with a tasting of several types of soy sauce. As well as a vinegar and a few types of chilli paste. They’re all impressively complex.

Before trooping back onto the bus, we visit the shop. I just pick up a single bottle of heavy soy sauce. Some of the other judges go more crazy, purchasing armfuls of bottles. Including the most expensive unpasteurised and aged soy sauce.

Next stop is LeVel 33. A brewpub on . . . the 33rd floor. “The world’s highest microbrewery in a building” as they bill themselves.

The view from the balcony is amazing. Gazing over the bay. I would try to describe it. But I’m a bit shit with words. A photo will do the job far better.

Charles gets us each an Oktoberfest. Which is perfectly serviceable. We spend about 45 minutes savouring both it and the incredible view.

The bus drops most of the judges off in Chinatown, to visit the Lion Brewery. I’m happy enough to give that a miss, having spent the best part of a day there with Andrew just a few weeks ago. Instead, I continue on with the bus back to the hotel.

I also don’t have much time left before I need to go to the airport for my flight home. I laze around my room for a while. Before nipping down to the 7 Eleven for a few things. It’s almost dusk. It’s still fucking hot.

Remembering that I haven’t eaten since breakfast, I also drop by the hawker market. Where I buy myself roast duck, egg and rice. For an extortionate four euros.

I polish off my duty-free whisky. And my hawker meal. Which is dead good. As you would expect. Roasty in a Chinese sort of way.

At ten, I check out and get a taxi to the airport. Check-in is pretty quick. Before you know it, I’m in the duty-free shop. I wouldn’t usually bother here. But I’ve still some Singapore dollars to get rid of. I get a litre of Dewar’s.

After that, it’s straight to the lounge. It’s the Qantas lounge. And is almost deserted. I lounge around there for a while, sipping whisky. Before tipping down to my gate.

I don’t have to wait long to board after going through security. 

A bit after we’ve taken off, there’s a meal service. I don’t bother with the meal, as it’s the usual KLM slop. I just have a red wine. And the fall asleep.

I wake up after 8 hours or so.  With a terrible stomach ache. I go to the bog and throw up. And feel much better. What was that all about?

Breakfast is the weird dumpling-like stuff. I pass on that. And just eat the fruit. And drink coffee and orange juice.

We land about 20 minutes early. Which is good. Passport control is mobbed. Which is crap. Then it takes ages for my bag to pop out. So long, that I use the tag finder app to check where it is. Close by, the app reckons. That’s a relief. Soon after, my bag plops onto the carousel.

Not long after, I’m rolling down the motorway in a taxi.

Before I’ve chance to put my key in the door, Dolores opens it. She’s about to go to the shops. Fortunately, she has tea ready.



Nanyang Sauce
18 Chin Bee Ave, 
Singapore 619940.
https://www.nanyangsauce.com/


LeVeL33
8 Marina Blvd, 
#33 - 01 Tower 1, 
Singapore 018981.
http://www.level33.com.sg/ 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1888 Thomas Usher Export

Just to confuse things a bit more, here’s a beer simply called Export. And, no, it wasn’t the same gravity as PA. As, by this time, its gravity had been dropped to 1050º.

All pale malt in the grist. Three different types, made from Californian, Hungarian and Scottish barley. Increasing amounts of foreign barley was a trend at Usher as the century drew to a close. At times to such a point that there was no UK barley at all in some beers.

The hopping rate was pretty heavy at 15 lbs per quarter (336 lbs). Which you can see reflected in the calculated bitterness of over 100 IBU. The three-hour boil also helps in that respect.

What about the hops themselves? They were an even split of Kent and Hallertau. The vintage isn’t specified in this particular brewing record, but in others nearby it’s given as 1887 for both types.

Was this beer aged? Given the heavy hopping, I think that it probably was. I’m guessing semi-stock, so around 3 months. Which would have reduced the FG somewhat from that listed in the recipe below. 

1888 Thomas Usher Export
pale malt	12.50 lb	100.00%
Fuggles 180 min	4.50 oz
Hallertau 30 min	4.50 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1054
FG	1012
ABV	5.56
Apparent attenuation	77.78%
IBU	102
SRM	5
Mash at	153º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	180 minutes
pitching temp	58º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

Judgemental

I rise at 8:15. And go downstairs for brekkie. 

Fried egg, cheese and toast. Again. Except I don’t bother with the horrible turkey bacon. The sausages look dead anaemic, too. I really don’t fancy them. I wash the food down with orange juice and coffee. And a pudding of fruit.

Judging was supposed to start at 9. It's more like 9:30 when we kick off. I have trouble finding my name on the table list. Until it's pointed out that I'm table captain today. More work. Yeah, just what I love: work.

My fellow judges are all Asian. All from different countries. With a range of different viewpoints. Should be fun. Except.

“My tasting ability isn’t at its best today.” I say, sniffling. 

I seem to have a cold coming on. Not like I’ll need my sense of smell today, eh?

We bully off with German Pilsner. I’m surprised at how sweet some are.

“Asian drinkers like sweetness. If they brewed a Pilsner the same as in Europe, people wouldn’t buy it.” I’m told. 

That’s handy for when I set up my Southeast Asian historic beer brewery. I’ll just brew those stupidly sweet Scottish Stouts. Does Heineken taste different in Asia? It wouldn’t surprise me if it did.

The flight has a couple of good examples. Though we’re not exactly unanimous on exactly which beers those are. We manage to come to an agreement because, well, the others aren’t twats. Not sure about me. The others definitely aren’t, though.

Bit disappointed by the Double IPA flight. Though I appreciate the alcohol. Some are weird. We have a polite debate about what exactly constitutes weirdness. 

I really appreciate the size of the flights. How small they are. Mostly just six or seven beers. Never more than eight. Which is great. Anything bigger gets unmanageable. I’ve judged flights as large as twelve or sixteen beers. Fucking impossible. For an amateur like me.

Because that’s what I am: a total amateur. My only professional association with brewing was a few weeks filling kegs back in 1975. Beer is a career for most of those around me. Their senses are way more finely tuned than mine. Even on a good day. Which isn’t, what with my runny nose.

We’re now moving onto semi-finals and finals. The fun bit. As we don’t have to go through the whole scoring process. Just either choose the best three beers to pass through. Or award the gold, silver and bronze awards.

First is the Pilsner semi-final. Which is a mixture of Czech and German styles. I can’t say that I’m very keen on any of them.

“Pilsner is a difficult style for me to judge as I drink it so rarely.” I warn the others.

An Imperial Stout first round follows. Which is much easier for me. And there are some pretty damn good beers. I finish off the examples I like.

Lunch is the hotel buffet again. Today I decide to try out Indian corner. Where I get myself a potato and pea curry. I do love me a potato curry. 

I chat beer history with some of the other judges.

“Do you have a podcast?” one of them asks.

“No.”

“You should do.”

Now there’s a thought. It’s not as if I have much else to keep me occupied. Only writing books and travelling the world. I can do with some other projects. I do enjoy bullshitting away about beer, mind.

I’m not table captain after lunch. Which is a relief. As it means less work And, at heart, I’m a profoundly lazy person. I sometimes wonder what I might have achieved, had I not been such an idle git.

It’s mostly finals and semi-finals in the afternoon session. So no full scoring. Just working out the best three beers.

I’m on table 1. Which is right next to the aircon. And fucking freezing. It’s a little on the chilly side, even for me. I can understand why some of the Asian judges on this table were putting on coats earlier.

It’s the experimental beers semi-final to start.  Which includes some intriguing beers with Asian ingredients, such as koji, pandang leaves and coconut.

Another first round of Oatmeal Stout follows. I’m not enthusiastic about any of them. That’s me being nice.

“Oatmeal Stout was mostly a con. Usually, oats only made up 1% of the grist.” I tell the other judges. They must be concentrating on tasting, because they don’t react.

Next, we award the first medals, for Hefeweizen. There’s quite a bit of discussion amongst us to settle on the winners. As all of the finalists are pretty decent.

Awarding the Saison medals is even trickier. With some beers quite dividing opinion. But we eventually come to a consensus. We all emerge with our egos and teeth intact.

The Milk Stout medals are far easier. With swift agreement about the best three beers. The only discussion is about which colour medal those three beers get.

We finish with the flavoured beer final. Another tricky one, as the base beers are in all sorts of different styles. Leaving direct comparisons very difficult. The winning beers, though, are all pretty good.

A long day of judging. It’s after 18:30 when we finish. And the bus for tonight’s dinner leaves at 19:00. I just have time to go back to my room and dump my flipflop. And have a quick waker-up whisky.

Spotting a couple of fellow judges having a beer in the hotel bar, I grab myself a double Jamesons. I’ve only a few minutes and have to down it in one. Warms me up nicely. Both physically and socially. Not that I’ll be needing the former, given the temperature outside.

Tonight’s dinner location is Satay by the Bay. Which specialises in seafood. Only joking. It’s satay. As is pretty fucking obvious from the name. And is next to the bay. Also given away a bit by the name.

As soon as we sit down, pitchers of Tiger appear. Which makes a change from the fancy beer I’ve been judging. After a while plates of food start to appear. Fried rice, a beef dish, spring rolls and, of course, chicken satay.

Thankfully, the satay isn’t smothered in peanut sauce, as it is in Holland. The sauce comes separately in little bowls. Meaning I can eat the satay sauce-free. As I’m not really a fan of peanut sauce.

Charles’ son comes over to our table for a chat. I tell him how his father broke my arm last year. He seems quite surprised.

He’s 18 and will soon be starting his military service. Of two years. Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun. And he’s only just moved back to Singapore after doing his A-levels in the UK. A very nice young man.

We leave around 9:30. I don’t fancy going on for further beers. Instead dropping by the 7 Eleven for some stuff. And watch YouTube for a while, sipping my whisky.



Satay by the Bay
18 Marina Gardens Dr, 
#01-19 Gardens by the Bay, 
Singapore 018953.
http://sataybythebay.com.sg/
 

Underlet mashing

Yet more stuff from the Brewers' Journal. This time about a topic dear to my heart: underlet mashing.

It's weird that this very common method of mashing gets very little attention nowadays. Despite being a pretty standard process for over a hundred years. 

In principle, it's a simple form of a step mash. It started with a simple infusion, which was allowed to stand for 20 or 30 minutes. Then a smaller quantity of hotter water was introduced to the mash from below via the underlet. The internal rakes were then given a couple of spins to mix the hotter water through the mash. And left to stand for two hours or so.

It seems that some brewers also used steam in addition to hot water to raise the temperature of the mash.

The time for application of the underlet must depend upon the malt itself, but in practical working I believe that 20 minutes is a sufficiently long stand after the malt has all been mashed in, unless the malt should happen to be low in diastase, when the time may well be extended to half an hour. There is, in my experience, no harm at all in bringing the second heat up to quite a high temperature— that is, 155 deg. to 158 deg.; indeed, in several breweries the second temperature is brought up to 159 deg., or even 160 deg., though in that case it is usual to extend the preliminary stand from 20 to 30 minutes. It is in such a case necessary either to use a very large quantity of underlet liquor at a very high temperature, or to supplement the underlet with free steam blown in under the plates. This second process answers perfectly well if the steam inlets are sufficiently numerous to allow of a fairly uniform heating of the mash; but in cases where one steam jet only is provided, there is a danger that one portion of the mash may be almost boiling whilst the other is only slightly heated. I strongly advocate the use of hot underlets, and the raising of a mash heat some 8 deg. or 10 deg. after 20 to 30 minutes’ stand, for by this means a wort low in albuminoids, a strong yeast, and a beer carrying a tough viscous head, brightening very rapidly and not prone to fret, are secured.
The Brewers' Journal vol. 38 1902, November 15th 1902, page 668.

Here's an example of an underlet mash from my favourite, Barclay Perkins. Who were very keen users of this technique.

Barclay Perkins X Ale mashing scheme 27th October 1909
operation	barrels water	strike heat	tap heat	time stood (minutes)	OG wort
mash 1	140	160º F		30
underlet	26	175º F	150º F	90	1082
sparge 1	36	168º F
underlet	63	168º F	156º F	30	1029
sparge 2	190	165º F	150º F		1010
Source:
Barclay Perkins brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number ACC/2305/1/601.

Note that they used the longer pre-underlet rest of 30 minutes and a shorter post-underlet rest of just 90 minutes. 

Tied Houses Abolition Act

More fun from the Brewers' Journal today. Which I've been using a lot as a source recently. Mostly, because that's what I've been researching in this week. And I need loads of posts to cover my next couple of trips. I should be in Norway when this is posted.

Tied houses have always been somewhat contentious. Obviously, the temperance twats were against tied houses. Well, just because. They were opposed to everything connected to pubs.

Mr. Broadhurst seemed to have an aversion to tied houses, too. Judging by the Bill he initiated. It's not the easiest of reads, despite being quite short.

Mr. Broadhurst and Tied Houses.
The following is a copy of the Bill introduced by Mr-Broadhurst, and read a first time in the House of Commons on the 3rd inst.:—Whereas the practice of tying licensed houses is injurious to the public, and it is expedient that it should be abolished. Now, therefore, be it enacted:—

1. From and after the passing of this Act any covenant or agreement binding the holder of a licence of ale, beer, or spirituous liquors for consumption on the premises to purchase such ale, beer, or spirituous liquors, or any part thereof, from any specified person or persons only shall be deemed to be an unreasonable covenant in restraint of trade, and shall be void. Provided always that this section shall not apply to any licence granted before the passing of this Act unless and until application shall be made for a renewal thereof.

2. Upon any application for the grant or renewal of a licence for the sale of ale, beer, or spirituous liquors to be consumed on the premises, the licensing authorities shall require the applicant to satisfy them that he is not under any such covenant or agreement as aforesaid; and in the case of an application for the renewal of a licence that has been granted or renewed subsequently to the passing of this Act that he has not been under any such covenant since the granting or last renewal of the licence, as the case may be, and unless the said licensing authority is so satisfied, it shall not grant or renew such licence.

3. This Act may be called the Tied Houses Abolition Act.
The Brewers' Journal vol. 36 1900, August 15th 1900, page 456.

If you were tied for any alcoholic drink, your licence wouldn't be renewed. And without its licence, a pub was worth fuck all. Not much use for a brewer, either.

Of course, the Bill didn't pass. Private members' Bills almost never do. If passed, how would it have affected UK brewing? Would brewers have simply found some other way of securing outlets? They might have concentrated on off-licences. Which were oftebn tied, too. Weirdly, the Bill doesn't seem to apply to them. Only on-licences. 

Let's Brew - 1885 Thomas Usher Export PA

Here we are at the top of the Pale Ale ladder, with Export PA. A proper, full-strength Pale Ale.

For once, there’s more than a single malt. With the pale malt backed up by a small amount of high-dried malt. I’m not totally sure what it’s doing there. Possibly to provide some less-fermentable sugars for secondary conditioning.

At 16 lbs per quarter (336 lbs) of malt, the hopping rate is around double that of the other Pale Ales. Which is to be expected, assuming that this is a genuine export beer. Which would need the protection of extra hops.

Hallertau and Alsace hops, both from the 1884 harvest, were used in the copper.

My guess is that thus was aged for at least a year, both at the brewery and during shipment. During which the FG would have been lowered considerably.

1885 Thomas Usher Export PA
pale malt	13.00 lb	92.86%
Munich malt	1.00 lb	7.14%
Strisselspalt 150 min	4.50 oz
Hallertau 30 min	4.50 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1060
FG	1015
ABV	5.95
Apparent attenuation	75.00%
IBU	96
SRM	5.5
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	175º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	57.5º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

Judgement

I rise at 7:30. After a very good sleep. But still feel a bit knacked. Hopefully breakfast will liven me up. Plenty of coffee should do the job.

The breakfast buffet is pretty impressive. Except . . . no real bacon. Just weird turkey bacon. They do have fried eggs, though. Two types, even: over easy and sunny-side up. I get one of the latter. Along with some cheese and a slice of wholemeal toast. Plus orange juice and coffee. I only have one mouthful of the fake bacon. Not very nice. I won't be bothering with that again.

The judging room is right next to the restaurant. Which is handy. It saves so much time and effort. The latter being very important for oldies like me. We’re supposed to kick off at 9. It’s actually 9:30. Which isn’t bad. In Brazil we once sat on our arses for three hours because of computer problems.

I’m not table captain. Yippee! I love dodging responsibility. Someone else can do the hard work 

We’re quite an international bunch. Our Australian captain aided by judges from Germany, Singapore and Vietnam. And me, obviously. I’ve never been on a table of five before. Usually, it’s three.

We kick off with International Pale Lager. What fun. All but one are crap. Not such a surprise. At least we get through them quite quickly.

Witbier next. A much better set. A couple of them I rather like. Especially one with a touch of acidity. Like Hoegaarden had back in the day.

Achieving consensus between five judges is trickier than between three. But, as none of my fellow judges are arseholes, we can work things out. With a bit of give and take. Judges make or break the judging experience. One opinionated twat can suck out all the pleasure. Get a pair of twats, and judging is complete torture.

American Pale Ale is the last flight of the morning. With some pretty decent beers. Hops can cover up a whole load of nastiness. In Pale Lagers, there’s nowhere to hide.

We're running a bit late in the morning session. It’s almost 2 PM when we get done and break for lunch Which is a buffet in the restaurant where we ate breakfast. Just next door. No pissing around travelling somewhere else. Which I appreciate.

It's way more varied than Brazilian buffets. Lots of different types of Asian food. With a whole section for Indian curries. As well as western stuff. The range is both enormous and impressive.  

All sorts of fancy stuff. Like large prawns, mussels and other shellfish.  I get some mussels, beef rendang and deep-fried chicken. Tasty.

My afternoon table has another inspiring mix of nationalities: Indian, Belgian, Vietnamese and German. Should promote healthy discussion.

I’m not very optimistic about the first flight, English Pale Ale.

“I don’t have very good experiences of judging this style.” I tell the others. “They’re usually all crap.”

Which, indeed, most of the beers turn out to be. But there’s one really good beer. Making the process worthwhile.

American IPA, which is next up, is an improvement. There are a couple of pretty decent beers in the set.
.
One of my favourite categories follows: Low-alcohol beer. Only joking. It is better than alcohol-free, I suppose. Not as awful as I feared. Some are just about drinkable.

We end with experimental beers. 

“I always suspect that some brewers call beers ‘experimental’ when they go horribly wrong.” I remark. 

“That’s rather cynical.” 

Cynical? Moi? I’m such a positive chap. Despite what my kids say.

Thankfully, a lot of the flight isn’t that out there. In fact, mostly quite in there. Just an extra ingredient or two to add an accent to a standard style. A few are really weird, though. For example, Irish Stout with orange juice. So strange, that it’s really difficult to judge. What were they aiming for? Have they achieved it?

We finish just after six. Leaving me a bit less than an hour to chill in my room before we go out to eat. And to make sure that my duty-free whisky hasn’t gone off while I’ve been judging. I have to check twice, just to make sure.

No bus, this evening. We walk to a Chinese restaurant. When we're almost there, I recognise where we are. As we walk past the Magpie. Where I drank with Andrew a few weeks ago. It's a weird feeling. Like suddenly waking up. While walking down the street.

We sit outside the restaurant and plates of food keep arriving. As well as big bottles of Tiger. Everyone digs in enthusiastically. I’m relieved to drink beer without needing to think about it. I knock back a few. Just to be polite, obviously.

The food highlight is chilli crab. Which, being undressed, is a challenge to eat without changing the colour of your shirt.  Someone asks the Vietnamese women next to me if it's spicy. "No." they say. Not my impression. I suppose they have a different concept of spicy in Vietnam.

I leave with a couple of the other older judges a little after nine. I don’t feel like staying out too late. I’ll leave that to the young and the reckless. I’m still feeling a bit knacked. And I’ll need to be up fairly early again tomorrow. Still time to drop by the Seven 11 on my way back.

I watch some YouTube in my room for a while. Before bludgeoning myself unconscious with duty-free whisky. Finding sleep isn’t a problem. It’s right there in front of me. Just looks a bit blurry.



Por Kee Eating House 1996
69 Seng Poh Ln, 
#01-02, 
Singapore 160069. 

The Long Pull

Before WW I there was a weird practice in pubs of the "long pull". Where pub customers were deliberately given an overmeasure. The idea was to attract business by offering better value for money. Rather than sell the beer cheaper, you received a larger measure for the standard price.

It always seemed a bit weird to me. And I assumed the overmeasure was 10% or 15%. Which still seemed quite a lot. How wrong I was. It also seems to have been very widespread. At least in some districts.

The Trade and the “Long Pull.”
A circular has been issued by the Birmingham and Midland Counties Wholesale Brewers' Association to the retail licensed trade in the area under their control, in which the “long pull” is practised to an extent affecting 8,000 houses, to the effect that on and after July 16th the "long pull" will be discontinued, and a maximum of 25 per cent, over measure will be permitted. As a sequel to this circular there will also be sent out a printed card for exhibition in a prominent part of the various houses intimating the discontinuance referred to. We understand that up to the present time fully 95 per cent, of the trade have intimated their willingness to assent to the proposal regarding the “long pull." The remaining 5 per cent, it is believed will no doubt be brought into line when they realise the comparative unanimity of their trade colleagues, and the necessity for concerted action. In the event of their still holding out public opinion is relied upon to induce them to lend their practical support towards sweeping away a custom which is admitted to be open to abuse.
The Brewers' Journal vol. 36 1900, July 15th 1900, page 404.

It sounds like the pratice was very widespread in Birmingham. And the size of the overmeasure - often more than 50% - is incredible. When you ordered a pint, you'd get more than 1.5 pints. Which is crazy. Even after "abolishing" the long pull, landlords were still allowed to serve a 25% overmeasure. Which still seems like quite a lot to me.

The long pull was still around at the start of WW I. Until it was made illegal as part of wartime restrictions on the drinks trade. 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1885 Thomas Usher PA 60/-

Don’t you just love the random use of Shilling designations by Usher? It’s clear that the original use of shilling classifications: to indicate the wholesale price of a hogshead, was over. 

There’s no way that this beer wholesaled for 60/- a hogshead. A fancy Pale Ale like this would probably have cost 54/- a barrel, 81/- a hogshead. 60/- would be the price of something like an XX Mild Ale.

Most of the grist was a single type of Scottish pale malt. Along with a tiny amount of caramel. Which darkens the colour a bit. But couldn’t have really had much impact on the flavour.

Two types of hops, as usual, California from the 1883 season and Alsace from 1884.

As the hopping rate is the same as for the weaker Pale Ales, I don’t think this beer was aged for any length of time. No more than a couple of months, at most. Though it was probably conditioned for longer than its weaker siblings. 

1885 Thomas Usher PA 60/-
pale malt	14.00 lb	99.79%
caramel 1000 SRM	0.03 lb	0.21%
Cluster 90 min	2.25 oz
Strisselspalt 30 min	2.25 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1060
FG	1017
ABV	5.69
Apparent attenuation	71.67%
IBU	60
SRM	7.5
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	175º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	59º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

Singapore swinging

“Again? You’re going to Singapore again?”

“Yes, Dolores. I told you.”

“Did you? But you were there just a few weeks ago. Why are you going again?”

“To judge.”

“Oh. And how much is that costing us?”

“Not too much.”

“That’s what you always say.”

Dolores was impressed with me returning to Singapore so soon. But she’s given up trying to make me see reason.

No Dolores to say goodbye to me this time She left for Germany this morning. And Alexei is only just back from work when I leave.

Schiphol isn't too busy. In no time I'm in the lounge loading up with whisky. Once I've downed the first brace, I go for some food. I was expecting rendang again. But this time they have butter chicken Which is really nice.

When I've eaten that, I get myself another brace of whiskies. For food round 2 I it’s cheese and pastrami. And another pair of whiskies. I need to get in my ration of those. I wouldn’t want to be flying completely sober. Not with my age and reputation.

Am I slowing down as I get older? Of course I fucking am. None of us can defy the march of time. Which inevitably tramps all over all of us, sooner or later.

I wander down to the gate a little after 8 PM. And don't have to wait long before boarding. Thankfully. I hate hanging around at the gate. Especially when I could have spent that time stuffing myself with food and booze for free in the lounge.

An hour or so after take-off they serve a meal. I opt for the chicken. Though I don't eat much of it. A few mouthfuls. I do eat all the fruit, mind. Being such a healthy bastard.

I start watching Thenderbolts, but keep dozing off. I’m still not sure what it was on about. Some superheroes doing shit for some reason or other.

Not long after dinner, the bloke sitting next to me has a chat with one of the cabin crew. Then he and his wife just disappear. Have they upgraded? I can't imagine they've moved elsewhere in economy, as they said the flight was full. I'm not complaining, as I've room to lie down.

I get a pretty decent kip. Waking up about 2.5 hours out from Singapore. And watch some TV. Just total crap. My brain isn’t in the mood for anything complex. Like a genuine plot. Just feed me some pap with a spoon.

Breakfast isn't very appetising. I only eat the fruit. And drink a coffee and an orange juice.

The arrival gate isn’t quite in Malaysia this time. It’s not so far to immigration and baggage retrieval. My bag comes out pretty quickly. Soon I'm speeding towards my hotel in a taxi.

I've a couple of hours before the welcome dinner. Which I kill with some internet fiddling and duty-free whisky. It’s a pretty nice hotel with a decent-sized room.

At 18:30, we take a bus to the venue. Which is a rooftop restaurant in a small hotel. With stunning views of the city. There’s just the one downside: no bogs. You have to go down to the ground floor for toileting purposes. Which is a bit inconvenient. Especially for oldies like me.

There are a couple of judges I've met before. Like Kjetil Jikiun, a Norwegian bloke I judged with in Balneário Camboriú in Brazil in March. It’s a very international group. Lots from Asia, unsurprisingly. A good spread of ages, too. Most of the Asian judges are quite young. Not so much the Europeans. Some of whom are even older than me.

I have fun telling people how Charles Guerrier, this competition’s organiser, broke my arm in Brazil last year. When his legs stopped working after a day drinking cachaca. Luckily, I was pissed as well, which helped numb the pain.

There are a few beers on draught. Including Lion Brewery Boss IPA. Which is really nice. Better than in the brewery a few weeks back. Maybe the view is making it taste better.

The food is various meat bits. Which are quite pleasant. I’m not sure which meal my body thinks it is. Almost certainly not dinner. Just as well that it isn’t too heavy.

I go straight back to my room when we get back to the hotel. I'm not tempted to carry on in the bar, as some judges do. I need to get my body in sync with the time zone. Otherwise, the next few days will be a nightmare.

Just time for a quick eye-closer of whisky. I have no problem falling asleep.



Jayleen 1918 Hotel
42 Carpenter St, 
Singapore 059921
https://www.jayleen1918.com.sg/ 

Illicit Brewing

After 1880, the rules on domestic brewing changed. The most notable being that such brewers were obliged to take out a licence, something which hadn't been required before.

These rules covered both farmers brewing for their employees and those just home brewing for themselves. These rules remained in place until the 1960s. And, while you might have expected such rules to kill off home brewing, it did, in fact, survive. With licences being issued right up until the end.

You can see in the table that, in 1900, 12,734 licences for brewing beer "not for sale" were issued. Which were for those brewing as the gentleman in the article below. Note that it was only during WW I that commercial licences became the majority.

Total brewing licences 1881 - 1920
Year	not for sale		for sale		total
	number	%	number	%
1881	71,876	81.1%	16,798	18.9%	88,674
1882	110,025	87.5%	15,774	12.5%	125,799
1885	88,007	86.4%	13,799	13.6%	101,806
1886	95,301	87.7%	13,308	12.3%	108,609
1890	25,281	69.0%	11,364	31.0%	36,645
1895	17,041	65.3%	9,050	34.7%	26,091
1900	12,734	66.4%	6,447	33.6%	19,181
1905	9,930	65.2%	5,311	34.8%	15,241
1908	8,481	63.8%	4,808	36.2%	13,289
1909	7,568	61.9%	4,667	38.1%	12,235
1910	7,006	60.8%	4,512	39.2%	11,518
1911	6,855	61.3%	4,329	38.7%	11,184
1915	4,741	57.1%	3,556	42.9%	8,297
1917	5,217	61.8%	3,223	38.2%	8,440
1918	1,602	33.7%	3,148	66.3%	4,750
1919	1,879	38.1%	3,054	61.9%	4,933
1920	2,999	50.7%	2,914	49.3%	5,913
Sources:
Brewers' Almanack 1912, page 157.
Brewers' Almanack 1922, page 117.
Brewers' Almanack 1928, page 118.

 

Illicit Brewing.
At the Sampford Petty Sessions, held on the 22nd ult, John Salmon Goodchild, of the Manor Farm, East Bergholt, was charged with brewing beer without having in force a proper licence, and whereby he forfeited the sum of £100.

Mr. S. McLean, supervisor of the Inland Revenue, Colchester, prosecuted, and said defendant resided at East Bergholt in a house assessed at £16 a year, and by reason of this he was not only liable for a licence, but also for duty. He also had a cottage about a quarter of a mile away from the house, of £2 annual value, and in this cottage he had a brewing plant. The beer was brewed and conveyed to the farmhouse.

William Shinn, Officer of the Inland Revenue, Manningtree, said that on April 6th he visited a cottage in the occupation of defendant at East Bergholt, and found him brewing three bushels of malt. He saw two coppers, one about 27 gallons, the other about nine, a barrel of about 36 gallons, and three tubs, each about 27 gallons, one full of wort. Defendant told witness he thought he had a right to brew there because he occupied the house with his brewing utensils, and a solicitor had told him that he might do so. He also said that he would sleep there one night in twelve, and comply with the law with regard to occupation. He added that he knew he was liable if he brewed at the farmhouse, so he bought the cottage and placed the coppers there.

 Continuing, witness said that supposing defendant should prove that his father occupied the farmhouse, he would still be liable for beer duty and licence as a lodger, but he admitted that he was the occupier of the house.

Mr. McLean said that the probable loss of revenue since defendant had been brewing was about £8.

Defendant said Mr. Shinn's evidence was perfectly correct, and he did not wish to cross-examine him. It was a well-known fact that he brewed at the cottage, but it had never been pointed out to him by the authorities that he was liable, and he did not know that he was. After this, of course, he should take out a licence.

The Chairman said that it was the opinion of the Bench that it was defendant’s duty to have found out his liability. There was very little doubt that he had been evading the law for some considerable time, and he would be fined £10, including costs, and in default one month’s imprisonment.
The Brewers' Journal vol. 36 1900, June 15th 1900, page 362.

I think the reason that they were going on about the rateable value of the premises where ebrewing took place was on account of the exact rules. T relieve agricultural workers of the need tro get a licence to homebrew, there was an exemption from the licence requirement for those residing in property of under a certain rateable value. 

Which is why Mr. Goodchild bough a cottage and brewer there. Except that didn't count, as he really resided at the more valuable farmhouse.