Let's Brew Wednesday - 1896 Eldridge Pope Light Tonic Stout

Outside London, Porter was pretty much dead by the 1890s. In name, a least. Because there were lots of lower-gravity Stouts that were much like Porters, in terms of strength. Quite often these were exclusively bottled beers. With named like Luncheon Stout, Nourishing Stout or Tonic Stout.

Another trend in Black Beers in the 19h century was a simplification of the grist. With brown malt being dropped, leaving a grist of just pale and brown malt. Which is why I was surprised to see brown malt here. Making it resemble a London grist.

There are no adjuncts, interestingly. Adjuncts were pretty common by this point, and appear in most of Eldridge Pope’s beers. There are, however, two types of sugar. Caramel and something described as “BS”. I’ve substituted No. 3 invert for the latter.

Three types of hops were employed, two English and one Oregon. Unfortunately, there’s no indication of their age.

This beer wouldn’t have been aged and would probably only been available in bottled form.

1896 Eldridge Pope Light Tonic Stout
pale malt	8.00 lb	71.49%
brown malt	0.875 lb	7.82%
black malt	0.875 lb	7.82%
No. 3 invert	1.25 lb	11.17%
caramel 1000 SRM	0.19 lb	1.70%
Cluster 150 mins	1.50 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.50 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	1.50 oz
OG	1051
FG	1019.5
ABV	4.17
Apparent attenuation	61.76%
IBU	66
SRM	38
Mash at	154º F
Sparge at	174º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	WLP002 English Ale

 

Drinkalongathon 2024 - whisky and cheese

A plate of cheese, pate, olives and a knife. And a glass of whisky.

 18:15

The Christmas spirit is flowing through me. Translation: I've had a few glasses of whisky. Just little ones.Honestly. I haven' even touched he Islay I bough myself.

I've got my second wind, food-wise. Cheese or the sausage rolls Dolores made earlier? Why not both? I is Christmas, after all.

Go your string to hand? Your eggs? You'll be needing them soon.

 

Drinkalongathon 2024 - red wine and duck

A  duck dinner with spuds, sprouts, gravy and red wine.

 16:40

The  fatty goodness of he duck dances on he redness of the wine. he protein/alcohol combination makes my head spin.This  is dinner as it should be. With me half-pissed and he cooking done by someone else. (I can't do the cooking his year due to my fucked arm.) Maybe the warmup whiskies helped.

 

 

Drinkalongathon 2024 - The Singleton 12 year and some crappy film

 

A  glass of he Singleton and  Rat Race on TV.

15:40

Just time for an aperiif before dinner. And what better than a small whisky?  The alcoholiness of he whisky undercuts the underlying shittiness of Ratt Race.

The ducks (two this year) are roasting nicely.

"Dad, you're missing he film." Alexei says.

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing."

"Hurry up. They've stolen Hitler's car."

Looks like being a Nazi Christmas again.

 

 

Drinkalongathon 2024 - Sicilian white wine and goats cheese things

Goat cheese thing with a glass of white wine and Christmas decorations.

14:32

Time for our starters which is goats cheese in pastry. As always. The wininess of the wine cuts through the goatiness of the cheese wonderfully.

"Do you have any more wine?" Alexei asks.

That's supposed to be me asking for more booze.

"No." What's left is for Dad.
 

Drinkalongathon 2024 - St. Bernardus Abt and ballet

St. Bernardus Abt in a  Chimay glass, ballet on TV in he background

14:05

Late start and slow going his year. It's afternoon and I'm only on my second drink. he deep, dark religiousity of the Abt contrasts nicely with he push poncing about on he screen. Which could turn anyone to drink.
 

 

 

Drinkalongathon 2024 - bacon sandwich and fino sherry

 

A bacon sandwich  and a glass of fino sherry.

12:18

It's a traditional start to the day, with a bacon sarnie and fino sherry. Though rather later than usual. Didn't have he bees of kips last night. I guess i was he anticipation of Santa coming.

The dryness of he sherry nicely cuts through the salty fattiness of he bacon. And what better way to start he day than with  fatty pork? I sets a man (or woman) up for the day.  And i's going to be a long day.

Buckle up and gett ready for he ride.

Back home

We rise a little earlier today. Around eight. As we need to check out by eleven.

I haven’t had the greatest of nights. I’ve been coughing like crazy. It’s a surprise I have any lungs left.

A breakfast of bacon, eggs, tomato, toast and tea.

Dolores fetches my usual breakfast. It’s the breakfast I always have in Britain. When I can. Egg, bacon and tomato. With toast, too, of course. I wouldn’t want to disrespect the eggs.

Back in our room, we just about have time to pack before checkout time. And for Dolores to make sandwiches for the train. She’s always thinking ahead.

Checked out, I remain guarding our bags while Dolores goes to the supermarket to buy contraband. Joints of meat, crumpets, cheese. Stuff you can’t easily find in Amsterdam.

She returns with bulging bags of goodies. Everything we want to take back to Amsterdam.

Once the stuff has been absorbed into our luggage, we do what comes natural. Which is to trail down he pub. The Euston Flyer, again. As it’s on the way to St. Pancras. It makes lots of sense. And Dolores wants a couple of farewell pints of London Pride. Everyone wins.

A pint of London Pride and a pin of ESB.

“I haven’t been coughing as much today.” I say optimistically over my pint of ESB.

“That’s good, Ronald.”

“Maybe I’m over this cold.”

“It didn’t sound like that last night. I expected to find bits of  your lungs all over the duvet this morning.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Relieved. I think.”

“That’s reassuring. Really, really reassuring.”

I’ve prepared a special drink for the train journey. I’ve decanted my half bottle of whisky into the remainder of my litre of cola. So much more dignified than swigging whisky straight from the bottle.

“Do you want to eat something, Ronald?”

“I wouldn’t mind.” It is about 5 hours since I ate breakfast.

“What do you fancy?”

“I wouldn’t mind a pie. But that comes with mash.” I’m not a big mashed potato fan.  “Would you eat my mash?”

“No.”

“I thought you liked mash?”

“Not from a packet.”

“It won’t be from a packet.”

“I prefer my own mash.”

“You really don’t want to eat my mash, do you?”

“No.”

No pie for me, then.  “I’ll get a sandwich.”

A fish finger sandwich.

Which I do. A fish finger sandwich. Which comes with chips. Dolores just gets some onion rings.

“How’s your sandwich, Ronald?”

“Quite nice. But it isn’t a pie.”

“There’s more to life than pies.”

“Is there?”

The sandwich is pretty good. The fish fingers are solid lumps of fish. But it’s not a pie. My pie needs have remained frustratingly unfulfilled this trip.

We have a second pint. Pride and ESB again.

“You know that they’re the same recipe?”

“Really?”

“Yes, they’re brewed together.”

“How does that work?”

The bar of the Euston Flyer.

I explain parti-gyling to Dolores. It fills in the half hour we have left in the pub quite nicely. I think I may have lost her half-way through. When she starts messaging the kids. But I believe I got over the basic principle of the technique.

I start coughing as soon as we get to St. Pancras. It gets worse as we queue for all the formalities. Ticket check, security, two lots of passport control. Not much fun one-handed.

Then the standing. As all the seats are occupied until the next Paris train boards. I find standing so much fun nowadays.

The train is totally full. At least, our carriage is full. Even before we’ve left the station, I’m coughing up a storm. With occasional echoes from other passengers. I must be making everyone’s journeys.

I’m sitting peacefully on the bog, when there’s a tapping on the door. Presumably the conductor.

“Yes?” I say.

After more tapping, I hear the door being unlocked. I quickly pull up my kecks and make myself decent.

It is the conductor. And, from the look on her face, it’s clear that I’m not who she’s looking for. Dolores tells me that a bag thief, pursued by the bags owner and the conductor had run past.

“How dramatic.” Dolores says.

“Almost as dramatic as the conductor catching me with my kecks down would have been.”

After Brussels, the train is much emptier. And we move to roomier seats. Where I finish off my special drink just as we pass through Schiphol.

Amsterdam seems very quiet as we snake through it homewards in a No. 2 tram. Even though it’s only 23:30.

Andrew is awake. Not sure if he’s just got up or is about to go to bed. It’s midnight. And I’m still coughing.



The Euston Flyer
83-87 Euston Rd.,
London NW1 2RA,
https://www.eustonflyer.co.uk/


 

It's that time of year again

The time of boiled eggs and string. Some call it Christmastime. But for me it's Drinkalongathon time. When you get the chance to drink along with me as I plough through an ocean of booze.

You know the score. I  now rattle off a list of things that you'll need to join in. As I'm sure you all will want to.

You'll require:

1 crate of St. Bernardus Abt
4 rashers of bacon
5 pieces of string
1 bottle of the best Islay whisky you can afford
4 soft-boiled eggs
3 hard-boiled eggs
7 pieces of egg string
1 bottle of fino sherry
2 bottles of crappo sherry
1 Christmas jumper (left upstairs in a drawer, still wrapped)
4 crumpets
2 bottles of barrel-aged cachaca (amburana, if possible)
200 gm double Gloucester cheese
300 gm treble Gloucester cheese
1 packet cheesy biscuits
2 bottles of port
2 soft brown rolls
3 manly brown rolls
filo pastry to taste
1 small bottle of tonic water
3 large bottles of gin
2 ice cubes
1 day of shit Christmas TV programmes
2 bottles of Amstel Bok
1 step ladder
1 reserve sling

Quite a short list this year due to my continued incapacity.

The Drinkalongathon will start at 9 AM sharp. Be sure to have your eggs and string ready.

Monday, Monday

We start our day at around nine again. With tea, made by Dolores, of course.

It’s getting on for ten when we stumble down to breakfast. It’s fairly quiet once more. Where is everyone? December is usually a busy month for the hotel.

A breakfast pf eggs, bacon and tomato.

Some of the foreign guests make bizarre breakfast choices.

“No-one British would have salami with bacon and eggs. It’s weird.”

“People from abroad don’t know that.”

“They should read up on the British breakfast rules before they travel. “

“Really?”

“Yes. So they don’t embarrass themselves at breakfast time.”

“Who’s checking them? The breakfast police?”

“If it was up to me, yes. Otherwise, it’s complete anarchy.”

Few around me seem to have consulted the English breakfast rules. Including Dolores. I’m sticking with an approved breakfast: bacon, egg and tomato. Nothing inappropriate on my plate.

We have a plan for today. The British Library. We head that way around noon. After a while of dossing around. 

The entrance of the British Library.

A couple of exhibitions have attracted our interest. One is about a silk road town in northwest China. The other on medieval women. We plump for the former as the latter is more expensive.

The exhibition is based around scrolls found in a cave around 1900. Thousands of them, in a variety of languages, dating from around 1,000 years ago. I can read the odd character in the Chinese texts. Mostly numbers. Those three years spent studying Chinese weren’t a total waste.

“Is this all there is? Just this one room?” Dolores asks, disappointed.

“Looks like it.”

“That’s no very much for eight quid.”

“Only six quid for me, oldie person.”

As we sill have time, we take a look at the free, permanent exhibition. Which has some really cool stuff. Like a Magna Carta. And, in the British Museum tradition, objects looted from all over the world.

Where to now? The answer is obvious: the Euston Flyer. It’s just over the road. I would be stupid not to drop in.

“A pint of ESB, please, Dolores.”

Obviously, she’s drinking London Pride. What else would she have in a Fullers pub?

Euston Flyer hand pumps.

It’s a bit after 15:00. And, being between the lunch and evening sessions, the pub isn’t very full. Though there are odd groups scattered around he interior. As quiet as we’ve seen a pub, so far.

The ESB is rather nice. Malty and full. Being cask, it slides down a treat. With none of that distracting fizz or chill. Why does anyone ever drink beer that isn’t cask?

We don’t go crazy. Only saying for a couple of pints.

Dolores spotted a fish and chip shop when wandering around the other day. And I really fancy pie and chips. So off we trail.

“We’ve no pies today.”

Bum. We’ll have to make do with fish and chips. Which is what we do.

On the way back to the hotel we drop by Waitrose. Where we trail the lovely fish and chip smell behind us.

“Why do you need more whisky, Ronald?”

“For the train tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to die of thirst.”

“Right. You could drink that cola you bought the other day.”

“I will do. Just with some added knives.”

The fish and chips are pretty good. The fish well cooked. And a decent portion of chips. One between the two of us is plenty.

I finish off my litre of cheap whisky watching Match of the Day 2.




The Euston Flyer
83-87 Euston Rd.,
London NW1 2RA,
https://www.eustonflyer.co.uk/

 

Sunday London

We rise at around nine. Well, I do. Dolores has already made tea. She’s such a wonderful woman.

After a bit of pottering around, we head downstairs for breakfast. It’s surprisingly quiet.

“What do you want, Ronald?”

“A fried egg, two rashers of bacon and some tomato.”

A breakfast of bacon, egg, tomato, toast, orange juice and tea.

I wouldn’t usually have Dolores collect my food. But it’s a bit tricky going to the buffet with one hand out of action. She also gets me some tea. Nice strong tea with milk. That’s the English way.

“Do you have your phone? I forgot mine.”

“Why?”

“I need to photograph my breakfast. For my blog.”

“That’s weird.”

“My readers expect breakfast photos. Especially one Canadian blogger.”

“They’re weird, then.”

“A specialist interest group is how I would describe them.”

Back in our room, we laze around for a while.  We’re in no rush. We literally have all day.

“What do you fancy doing today, Dolores?”

“Not much. We could go to that pub.”

“Which pub?”

“The one you went to with the kids.”

“The Swan?”

“I can’t remember the name.”

“It sells Old Puke. That’s why I went there.”

“Sells what?”

“Old Peculier. A strong beer.”

“Now there’s a surprise.”

“What do you mean?”

“That you want to drink a strong beer.”

“It’s a classic English beer.”

“Yeah, right. A classic that just happens to be strong?”

“Exactly.”

Then Dolores makes that noise of hers. Still not quite sure how to describe it. Or what exactly it means. I’m sure it’s something positive. It has to be positive, doesn’t it?

The eight handpulls in the Swan.

The Swan isn’t too busy. Though quite a few tables are reserved again. Pubs definitely don’t seem to be suffering as much as in the Midlands. Or maybe it’s just busy because it’s Christmas.

“What’s a nice Bitter.” Old Puke isn’t Dolores’s style.

“Greene King IPA.”

“I want a Bitter, not an IPA.”

“It isn’t that type of IPA. It’s like an Ordinary Bitter.”

“Why is it called IPA, then?”

“Because the term was used totally randomly in the past. At least in the UK.”

“What was the point of the name, then?”

“That’s a question I’ve often asked myself.”

Dolores gets herself an IPA. Along with an Old Peculier for me.

“What do you think, Dolores?”

“It’s fine. Just like a Bitter.”

My Old Peculier is pretty nice, too. I’m glad I was told about it being on sale here after the Museum Tavern dropped it. Which left me heartbroken. I look forward to a few pints of Puke when I’m in London.

We stay for two pints. Then Dolores wants to move on. To ‘Spoons. Shakespear’s Head, to be precise. It’s not far away. Just past Holborn tube station.

Wetherspoon crowd.

As is usual for a Wetherspoons, it’s quite busy. But not totally full and we can find seats.

“A pint of Abbot, please.” I say, pre-empting Dolores.

She gets herself a Greene King IPA. Mostly because it’s so cheap.

“It’s only £2.79. How can it be so much cheaper than in the last pub?”

“Because this is a ‘Spoons.”

Dolores's Greene King IPA being pulled.

Lots of people are milling about the pub. Many of them eating. The couple on the table next to us get a weird flat thing. That looks like it has brown sauce all over it.

“What’s that?” Dolores asks.

“A pizza, I think.”

“That’s a weird looking pizza.”

Realising that there is another set of handpulls, I go and have a look at what they’re offering. Ooh, there’s Black Beer: Portobello Market Porter.

“I’ll have a pint of Porter, please.”

“OK”

Frugal as ever, Dolores sticks with Greene King IPA. The Porter is nicely roasty. But no so much that it’s like licking an ashtray.

We had considered a cheap Chinese lunch. But the offers are only available on weekdays. Looks like it’s sandwiches in our hotel room again.

In the early evening, we wander out again. Dolores suggested the Norfolk Arms. But that’s full. Instead, we go to the Lord John Russell. Which has some free seats.

Drinkers drinking in the Lord John Russell.

Lots of Guinness is being drunk. By fairly young people. Including quite a few women. Guinness definitely seems to have got more popular.

My beer choice is easy: “I’ll have a Landlord.”

Dolores joins me. It’s in fairly good nick and slips down a treat. Cask is so easy to drink. Which is why I love it.  No chill and fizz to get in the way of the fun.

We only have the two pints. Then it’s back to the hotel. Where whisky and yesterday’s Match of the Day await me. And a can of cider awaits Dolores.

I cough myself to sleep just after midnight. Waiting for the whisky medicine to work.


The Swan
7 Cosmo Pl,
London WC1N 3AP.
https://www.greeneking.co.uk/pubs/greater-london/swan


Shakespeare’s Head
Africa House,
64-68 Kingsway,
London WC2B 6BG.
https://api.jdwetherspoon.com/pubs/all-pubs/england/london/shakespeares-head-holborn


Lord John Russell
91-93 Marchmont St,
London WC1N 1AL.
 

Let.s Brew - 1896 Eldridge Pope XX

And here’s the XX which was parti-gyled with the PA above. Though, at first glance, it might not look that way.

Because this was almost all second wort, the boil time and the hopping are different. In fact. It looks very similar to the AK. The gravity and grist pretty much match. XX only differentiates itself by being more lightly hopped.

I’m struggling to think of much more to say about this beer. It’s all pretty simple. Just base malt, flaked maize and sugar. Though the 50% of the base malt was made from foreign barley, the other half from English barley.

Two types of hops, both English, with no vintage or type specified. 

1896 Eldridge Pope XX
pale malt	8.50 lb	80.95%
flaked maize	0.50 lb	4.76%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.50 lb	14.29%
Fuggles 165 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	1.00 oz
OG	1049
FG	1011.5
ABV	4.96
Apparent attenuation	76.53%
IBU	24
SRM	8
Mash at	151º F
Sparge at	160º F
Boil time	165 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	White Labs WLP099 Super High Gravity

London bound

“How are we getting to the airport?”

“Uber. I’m not getting a bus with my broken hand. And luggage.”

Economical Dolores would usually insist on the bus. Thank god for my broken bone. I’m such a lazy git. And it’s a great excuse for taking a taxi.

The airport isn’t too busy. I get some extra attention at security on account of my plaster cast. I have to wait while they bring up the specialist machines. Clogging up one of the lanes. That will please everyone behind me.

Passport control, however, is a doddle. But it’s a bit weird that they want to see my boarding pass.

There’s some noise coming from airside. What the hell is going on?

Some sort of demonstration, apparently. Against frequent flying. How the hell did they get airside? There are swarms of marechaussee officers all around them. This is new.

“Do you think they bought tickets to get airside, Dolores?”

“That would seem counterproductive.”

We trail along to the lounge. Where they’re checking everyone at the foot of the escalator. Presumably, on account of the demonstrators.

Sitting behind my whiskies, I think about how the demonstrators got airside.

“They probably just went through security and passport control.”

“Who?”

“The demonstrators.”

“Are you still on about them?”

“You don’t have to show a boarding card at either.”

“I’m not really interested, Ronald.”

“That’s why they wanted to see my boarding pass.”

“Fascinating. Do you want some food?”

“Yes, please.”

Having stuff done for me is quite nice. But also a chilling vision of my life in 15 years’ time. I’d rather not be reminded of that.

Thai red beef curry with potato thing.

Thai red beef curry is how they describe it. More like a beef stew, really. No hint of spice. It’s OK, if not as advertised. I have some potato thing with it. Dolores has bread and stuff.

Dolores gets herself a glass of cava. And a whisky for me.

A sandwich of cheese and cucumber with tomatoes.

There’s no mention of boarding on the screen. But we head off to the gate 45 minutes before departure time. Just as well. They’re already boarding our group when we get there.

“Is this all we get?” Dolores says looking at her snack and small bottle of water in disappointment.

“On my TAP flight to Lisbon we were given nothing. You had to pay for everything.”

“That’s rubbish.”

“Just the way it is, Dolores.”

It’s a bit of a walk at Heatthrow. Which I really appreciate. Not much of a queue for passport control. It’s a while before our bags pop out, though. There’s always some sort of delay at airports. Such frustrating places to be.

Next part of the journey is a piece of piss. Just long-winded. It takes more than an hour for our tube to get to Russell Square. Pretty crowded, most of the way. We have seats, though. An advantage of getting on at the end of the line.

Once we’re checked in, it’s supermarket time. Essential stuff. Milk, bread, cheese, cider, whisky. The cheapest whisky in the shop. A full litre. Will that be enough for three nights?

“Fancy a drink in the pub on the way back, Ronald?”

“OK.” If you insist. I wouldn’t want to be impolite. I don’t say the last bitt out loud. I know what’s good for me.

We have to walk past the Marquis Cornwallis. So that’s where we head. Except all the tables are either occupied or reserved. Bum. We go to the Friend at Hand, instead. Where we can find seats.

Inside the Friend at Hand.

Lots of reserved tables and Christmas parties here, too. Quite a healthy mix of ages. Not all oldie people as, in the Midlands earlier this year.

“What’s a nice Bitter?” Dolores asks.

“They have Landlord. That’s pretty good. I’ll have a pint, too.”

It’s rather nice. So nice, I have another. Dolores goes for the house Bitter. Despite my warnings.\

“How is it?” I ask.

"OK. There’s a funny taste at the end.”

“I did warn you.”

A pint of Timothy Taylor Landlord.

But that’s it. We leave it at that and head back to our hotel. Where we eat sandwiches and drink whisky. Well, I do the latter. Dolores has a can of cider with her sarnies.

Hearing music, we look out of the window. A group of Santas is roller skating by.

“You can’t get much more Christmassy than that, Dolores.”

“I suppose not.”

We watch a bit of TV. But don’t stay up very late. We’re both a bit knacked.

Whisky is my slumber mate.



The Marquis Cornwallis
31 Marchmont St,
London WC1N 1AP.
https://www.themarquiscornwalliswc1.co.uk/


Friend at Hand
2-4 Herbrand St,
London WC1N 1HX.
https://www.greeneking.co.uk/pubs/greater-london/friend-at-hand

 

Yeast 1850 - 1880

Walker & Homfrays Embee Amber Ale label.

It was in this period that Pasteur unlocked the mystery of fermentation and the true nature of yeast as a living microorganism. There had been much debate about the process of fermentation and the role played by yeast for decades. Brewers did, however, know how to work with yeast, despite not properly understanding exactly what it was.

Some still thought yeast was a type of catalyst and its action purely chemical. This was the theory propagated by the German Leibig. 

"The chief constituents of yeast are vegetable gluten, and a small quantity of albuminous matter. When this ferment is introduced into the wort, it stimulates similar principles therein, and these exciting causes act and re-act upon each until one or both are destroyed."
Source: "The Brewer" by William Loftus, 1856, page 43.

Whatever yeast was, the changes it provoked in a sugary liquid were understood: 

"oxygen, two parts of which unite with four of carbon, and six of hydrogen in forming alcohol; while four parts of oxygen unite with two of carbon, and form carbonic acid gas. These two substances did not previously exist, but are new products of the decomposition od sugar."
Source: "The Brewer" by William Loftus, 1856, page 43.

Though they might not have known its true nature, brewers understood that using the same yeast was important to maintain the characteristic flavour of their beer. They maintained a supply of yeast by harvesting it from fermenting wort. (Source: "The Art of Brewing" by Frank Faulkner, 1876, page 114.) Pitching yeast was referred to as "store". 

"The best yeast for store purposes is that derived from a beer when nearing its final attenuation point, yeast which has not been exposed to atmospheric influences for any length of time, through forming the upper surface of the floating head, and as a rule the best pitching store for distinctive beers is that taken from brews of like quality, or from a beer of medium gravity."
Source: "The Art of Brewing" by Frank Faulkner, 1876, page 114. 

It's worth remembering that "medium gravity" at the time would have meant a beer of 1060-1070º.

Yeast was preserved by running cold water over it to remove any sugars and then drying and pressing it. (Source: "The Art of Brewing" by Frank Faulkner, 1876, pages 115-116.)
 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1896 Eldridge Pope PA

Of course, Eldridge Pope didn’t just make a Light Bitter. They also had a full-strength Pale Ale.

The grist is much the same as for AK. Just pale malt and sugar, with a dash of flaked maize. Not really sure what type of sugar that was. I’ve just guessed No. 2 invert.

This was part of an unusual parti-gyle with XX. Where the PA was 100% first wort and the XX 6% first, 94% second wort. Leaving the two beers with a1mmost completely different hopping.

Of the five types of English hops used in the whole brew, only three appeared in PA. No indication of origin, type or vintage in the brewing record.

Not only was PA stronger, its hopping rate was also about one-third higher. Which implies that it was meant to be aged longer. I’m guessing that this was either Stock or semi-Stock. Aged 3 to 12 months. 

1896 Eldridge Pope PA
pale malt	10.00 lb	79.71%
flaked maize	0.67 lb	5.34%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.875 lb	14.95%
Fuggles 150 mins	1.75 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.75 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.75 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1058
FG	1014.5
ABV	5.75
Apparent attenuation	75.00%
IBU	64
SRM	9
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	157º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	59.5º F
Yeast	White Labs WLP099 Super High Gravity

Beer Guide to the 1970s (part thirty-one)

Yes, I'm still slowly trundling my way through the breweries of the 1970s. I've almost got to the end of the alphabet. At least, for the independent breweries. Once they're done I'll move onto the homebrew pubs.

None of this trio is still open. No great loss, some might say, as none of them produced much cask beer. Not me, however. Plenty of breweries switched back to cask. Something a closed brewery couldn't do. And, while Vaux didn't make much cask, some of its subsidiaries, such as Darley, did.


Tollemache & Cobbold
Ipswich,
Suffolk.

Founded:    1746
Closed:            2003
Tied houses:    380

Formed by the merger of two Ipswich breweries in 1957, Tolly Cobbold (as it was usually known) was one of the largest independent breweries in East Anglia. Their tied houses were mostly in Suffolk and Cambridgeshire with two in Norfolk. The Tollemache brewery closed in 1961. Bought by Ellerman Shipping Lines in 1977, who sold them on to the Barclay Brothers in 1983. Brewing stopped in 1989 but restarted after a management buyout. Later bought by Ridley and closed for good in 2003. Their beers didn’t have the best reputation. Only a third of their tied pubs sold cask beer.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Best Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1034	distinctive flavour
Cantab	Pale Ale	draught	1041	sweet
Mild	Mild	draught	1030	Dark Mild
Old Strong	Old Ale	draught	1047	rich and fruity, winter only
Tollykeg	Pale Ale	keg
Husker	Lager	keg
Light Bitter Ale	Pale Ale	bottled		well hopped, agreeable flavour
Tolly Ale Export	Pale Ale	bottled		stronger but similar
Cardinal Ale	Pale Ale	bottled		strongest
Tolly Royal Barley Wind	Barley Wine	bottled
Dark Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled		dry
Cobnut	Brown Ale	bottled		sweet
Double Stout	Stout	bottled		medium sweet

Thos. Usher
Edinburgh,
Scotland.

Founded:    1817
Closed:            1981
Tied houses:    200

A subsidiary of Vaux, who purchased them in 1959. They were sold to Allied Breweries in 1980 and closed a year later. Their tied estate spread from Inverness to the English border. As they produced no cask, obviously  I never tried their beer.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Export	Pale Ale	keg
Special Gold Tankard	Pale Ale	keg		equivalent of a Keg Heavy
Light	Pale Ale	keg		darker
Norseman Lager	Lager	keg
Golden Export	Pale Ale	bottled		strong and slightly sweet
Pale Ale	Pale Ale	bottled		lower gravity, medium dark
Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled		dark and sweet, like bottled Mild
Sweet Stout	Stout	bottled
Golden Lager	Lager	bottled

Vaux
Sunderland,
Tyne & Wear.

Founded:    1837
Closed:    1999
Tied houses:    700

One of the largest independent brewers, Vaux’s tied estate was mostly concentrated in the Northeast of England, though they also had a presence west of the Pennines. Only a small percentage of their pubs sold cask beer. Though, when you could find the beer in cask form, it was pretty good.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Samson	Pale Ale	draught	1042.3	well flavoured, not sweet at all
Sunderland Draught Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1040	light and hoppy
Pale Ale	Pale Ale	draught		equivalent of a Light Mild
Mild	Mild	draught	1030.2	thin and almost black
Gold Tankard	Pale Ale	keg	1040.6	strong
Silver Tankard	Pale Ale	keg		medium gravity and darker
Norseman Lager	Lager	keg	1038.7
Special Export	Pale Ale	bottled	1044.3	strong
5 Star Strong Ale	Pale Ale	bottled		brewed at Caledonian
Light Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled	1032	medium sweet
Double Maxim	Brown Ale	bottled	1043.9	strong
Export	Pale Ale	bottled
Sweet Stout	Stout	bottled
Norseman Lager	Lager	bottled

Water 1850 - 1880

The best water, according to Loftus, was hard spring water from chalky soils, such as that at Burton. He did warn that hard water worts required a higher pitching temperature than worts brewed with soft water. (Source: "The Brewer" by William Loftus, 1856, page 33.)

Faulkner said that there were basically two types of water: hard and soft. Hard water had quantities of calcic sulphate and sodic chloride dissolved in it. Soft water, on the other hand, only contained sodic carbonate. (Source: "The Art of Brewing" by Frank Faulkner, 1876, page 4.) Hard water, especially that of Burton which contained very large quantities of calcic sulphate produced beer that would keep well without low attenuation and which would clear easily. (Source: "The Art of Brewing" by Frank Faulkner, 1876, pages 4-5.)

In earlier times brewers had preferred one type of water, either hard or soft, for brewing any beer. It was now realised that the best water de[pended on the type of beer being brewed. "Such a water [Burton water] is admirably suited adapted for pale ale brewing; but it is not naturally fitted for obtaining the full round flavour we desire to find in stouts; and thus London porters have long been noted, not on account of any superior skill in arrangement of grist proportions, or conduct of the brewing operations, but because London waters (taken in connection with the fact that sodic carbonate is present in them) tend to dissolve much more malt than a hard water is capable of doing, of the different matters that, while mitigating against long keeping qualities, constitute the fulness or roundness on palate so necessary for certain beers; and so we begin to see, I trust, wht London is a great brewing centre for porters, and Burton for pale ales; for it is almost needless to point out why pale beers are so rare in London, when you consider the extractive properties of sodic carbonate existing in a watery solution." (Source: "The Art of Brewing" by Frank Faulkner, 1876, page 5.)

Faulkner didn't hold with artificial hardening or softening water. He argued that by adapting mashing and fermentation regimes brewers could compensate for any deficiences in their brewing water. (Source: "The Art of Brewing" by Frank Faulkner, 1876, page 6.)