This is XXXX Ale

I explain 1832 Truman XXXX Ale. One of my favourite beers of all time. And a wonderful example of an extra-strong Mild Ale.

 

London Burton Ale adjuncts and sugars 1880 - 1899

There’s not much in the way of adjuncts. Only the Barclay Perkins example contains any at all: flaked rice. Which wasn’t the commonest type of adjunct, being on the expensive side. All the other beers are adjunct-free.

There are a few more sugars. And every beer contains one. Just the one. Sadly, in most cases the exact type isn’t specified in the brewing record. The exception being Barclay Perkins, where the sugar was No. 2 invert.

The percentage of sugar varies quite a bit, from 6.5% to 21%. The latter being well above the national average of around 10% in 1895. 

London Burton Ale adjuncts and sugars 1880 - 1899
Year	Brewer	Beer	flaked rice	no. 2 sugar	other sugar	total sugar
1892	Barclay Perkins	KK	12.28%	14.04%		14.04%
1881	Whitbread	KK			15.25%	15.25%
1897	Fullers	XXK			20.80%	20.80%
1887	Truman (Burton)	C5 R			6.49%	6.49%
1887	Truman (Burton)	S5			7.69%	7.69%
	Average					12.86%
Sources:
Barclay Perkins brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number ACC/2305/1/587.
Whitbread brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number LMA/4453/D/01/047.
Fullers brewing record held at the brewery.
Truman brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number B/THB/BUR/11.

 

Let's Brew - 1909 Maclay PI 54/-

Maclay didn’t content themselves with brewing one watery Pale Ale. They also had a slightly less watery one, in the form of 54/-. 

With a gravity of 1041º, it’s very weak for a pre-WW I Pale Ale. Though, obviously, not as bad as 42/-. A fairly poor level of attenuation leaves it under 3.5% ABV. At a time when pretty much everything brewed in London was over 5% ABV.

The grist is very much the same as that of 42/-. Which is pale and amber malt, grits and a sugar called Greenock. There’s a bit less amber malt and a few more grits. But nothing significant.

There’s a whole load of hops again. Hallertau from the 1905, Hallertau and 1907 harvests; Californian from 1907, Farnham from 1908 and Worcester from 1905. 

1909 Maclay PI 54/-
pale malt	5.50 lb	61.97%
amber malt	0.125 lb	1.41%
grits	2.25 lb	25.35%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.00 lb	11.27%
Cluster 120 min	0.50 oz
Hallertau 60 min	0.50 oz
Fuggles 30 min	1.00 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.25 oz
OG	1041
FG	1015
ABV	3.44
Apparent attenuation	63.41%
IBU	27
SRM	6
Mash at	147º F
after underlet	152º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	61.5º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

London Burton Ale malts 1880 - 1899

We should take a look at the ingredients. Loads? Not really. I could even have squeezed them into one table. Instead, I’ve strung them out into a massive two tables.

No example contained more than two malts. And a couple just one.

Whitbread’s KK stands out in having SA rather than pale malt as its base. SA malt produced more less-readily fermentable sugars, which was handy when you wanted to leave plenty of food for the Brettanomyces in a secondary fermentation.

Only two coloured malts poke their heads out: crystal and brown malt. The latter is a very London thing. Most breweries wouldn’t have had it lying around. Only in London, where it was still an essential ingredient in Porter and Stout.

Quite a lot of malt, generally. Almost 85%, on average. But these were expensive beers. Where you would expect less skimping on ingredients.

London Burton Ale malts 1880 - 1899
Year	Brewer	Beer	pale malt	SA malt	brown malt	crystal malt	total malt
1892	Barclay Perkins	KK	69.12%			4.56%	73.68%
1881	Whitbread	KK		84.75%			84.75%
1897	Fullers	XXK	76.64%		2.55%		79.20%
1887	Truman (Burton)	C5 R	93.51%				93.51%
1887	Truman (Burton)	S5	92.31%				92.31%
	Average						84.69%
Sources:
Barclay Perkins brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number ACC/2305/1/587.
Whitbread brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number LMA/4453/D/01/047.
Fullers brewing record held at the brewery.
Truman brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number B/THB/BUR/11.

 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1909 Maclay PI 42/-

Not only did Maclay brew a piss-weak Mild, they also had a similarly puny Pale Ale. Though, if you’re to believe the brewery designation of IP, it’s sort of an IPA. One to dribe style Nazis insane.

Before WW I a Pale Ale this weak – not even quite 3.5% ABV – was something of an exception. Even at English country breweries, where beers were generally weaker, wouldn’t have a Pale Ale quite this feeble.

The grist is very idiosyncratic, with pale malt, amber malt and grits combining.  Maclay in this period seems to have been very keen on amber malt. Using it in both Mild and Pale Ales. I can’t emphasise enough how fucking weird this is for Scotland. Amber malt rarely even turns up in Stout.

Loads of different hops again. Hallertau from the 1905, 1906 and1907 Seasons; Californian from 1907, Farnham from 1908 and Worcester from 1905. 

1909 Maclay PI 42/-
pale malt	4.75 lb	64.41%
amber malt	0.125 lb	1.69%
grits	1.50 lb	20.34%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.00 lb	13.56%
Cluster 120 min	0.50 oz
Hallertau 60 min	0.50 oz
Fuggles 30 min	0.75 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.25 oz
OG	1035
FG	1009
ABV	3.44
Apparent attenuation	74.29%
IBU	26
SRM	6
Mash at	146º F
after underlet	150º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	61.5º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

London Burton Ale 1880 - 1899

We’re talking about standard London Burton Ale here. A beer which was usually called KK within the brewhouse.

It was one of the standard draught beers in a London pub. And, along with Stout, was usually the strongest beer on offer in cask form.

The sharper ones amongst you might have spotted that the Truman beers were brewed in Burton, not London. I’ve included them here as they were beers intended specifically for the London market. Truman did brew a KK and KKK earlier in the 19th century, but stopped after they acquired their Burton brewery in the 1870s.

You can see that the gravities were pretty consistent, varying only from 1074º to 1079º. This isn’t too much of a shock as they were all being brewed for the same market: London. While similar levels of attenuation leave them all 7% to 7.5%. Except for the Whitbread beer, which was noticeably more poorly attenuated than the others.

Hopping. Why is Truman C5 R an outlier, with a far lower hopping rate than the other examples? Because it’s a Runner. That is, an unaged beer. With S5 being the Keeper sibling. Were the two blended? Quite possibly. That definitely occurred with No. 1, the Barley Wine from Burton.

The hopping rate of the other beers is very high.  High enough to imply that they were aged before sale. That’s definitely true of Fullers XXK, which the brewing record says was vatted. My guess would be nine to twelve months of ageing. 

London Burton Ale 1880 - 1899
Year	Brewer	Beer	OG	FG	ABV	App. Atten-uation	lbs hops/ qtr	hops lb/brl
1892	Barclay Perkins	KK	1074.0	1021.1	7.00	71.55%	14.22	4.61
1881	Whitbread	KK	1075.1	1024.9	6.63	66.79%	14.09	4.82
1897	Fullers	XXK	1076.5	1020.2	7.44	73.55%	12.33	4.33
1887	Truman (Burton)	C5 R	1075.9	1019.4	7.48	74.45%	8.68	2.84
1887	Truman (Burton)	S5	1078.7	1022.2	7.48	71.83%	10.19	3.57
	Average		1076.0	1021.6	7.21	71.64%	11.90	4.04
Sources:
Barclay Perkins brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number ACC/2305/1/587.
Whitbread brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number LMA/4453/D/01/047.
Fullers brewing record held at the brewery.
Truman brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number B/THB/BUR/11.

 

 

What is XXXX Ale?

I explore the history of XXXX Ale. Is it Mild Ale or Old Ale?

 

Homeward bound

I sleep pretty well and rise at 9:30. Breathing still isn't perfect. Better than yesterday, mind. I force myself to write as I didn’t yesterday.

The kids turn up at about 11:45. Checkout is noon here. Which is handy. It still leaves us with some time to kill before heading to the airport. Our flight is at 18:50. Alexei suggest Allô mon Coco, a sort of push diner we breakfasted in when we were first in Montreal.

 

We leave our roller bags at the hotel and set off. It’s only a few blocks. And all on the flat. The kids are soon miles in front of me. With me huffing and puffing along slowly behind.

The place is busier than on our last visit. With a couple of large parties. We get our arses parked and after a while a waiter drifts by to take our order. 

“Espresso martini, please.” I request.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Alexei asks.

“No.” I’m not feeling great. And have no appetite.

Alexei orders a massive breakfast. And a chocolate milkshake. He has a very healthy appetite.

“Do you have beer?” Andrew asks the waiter.

“No.”

“I’ll have an Irish coffee, then. And a chocolate milkshake.”

Rather odd combination there.

“At least you’ll get some calories in you.” I remark.

“Unlike you, Dad.”

“There are calories in an espresso martini. At least, if they’ve put booze in it.”

“Alcohol calories, your favourite type.” Alexei quips.

Alexei takes his time over his breakfast. And we have another round of drinks. Not the chocolate milkshakes, obviously. That would be madness.

We leave at about 14:30, returning to the hotel for our bags. And order an Uber.

The first part of the journey goes pretty well. It doesn’t take long until the airport is in sight. And that’s exactly when the traffic crawls to a stop. The last kilometre takes us a good 20 minutes.

Checking in and security are about as pleasant as these things can be. And don’t take too long. We ditch the last of our Canadian dollars in the duty free, getting a couple of bottles of whisky. Canadian, of course.

Rather nicely, the lounge lets me bring in two guests. That’s a first.

“No need to get our money’s worth today, seeing as we didn’t have to pay.” I say cheerfully.

“Always the same jokes, eh, Dad?” Andrew replies cynically.

“At least I’m consistent.”

“Consistently telling the same bad jokes.”

“That’s what Dads are for.”

Neither me nor Andrew are very hungry. Despite the food looking pretty good. Alexei, however. is eating for all three of us. I get myself a whisky.

“I see that you haven’t lost your appetite for whisky.” Alexei quips.

“It’s purely medicinal.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Right. Like your ‘reasons’.”

I do have a bit of food. Quiche, a wrap. And a few more whiskies. I need to get plenty of medicine down before the flight.

“Really, Dad?” Alexei says.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes, you really did say that out loud. You really are going senile.”

We get to the gate just about as boarding is starting. Though there isn’t an air bridge. Just one of those weird bus things that can lift up to the height of the cabin doors.

The seat next to me is free. Which is great, leaving me more room to stretch out.

I sleep for most of the flight. Waking up with just about enough time to watch The Other Woman. Which is an OK aeroplane film. If you know what I mean. Not too demanding.

Alexei has to part from me and Andrew when we approach passport control. As he doesn’t have a Dutch passport yet. He’s using his ID card to enter and can’t use the electronic gates.

We’ve already retrieved our bags by the time Alexei appears. In minutes we’re bombing onto the motorway in a taxi.

Dolores is waiting for us at home. With tea, of course. There’s always tea.
 

Allô mon Coco
70 Rue Sainte-Catherine E,
Montréal, QC H2X 0C7.
https://allomoncoco.com/locations/allo-mon-coco-ste-catherine-e/

 

Montreal return

I wake at 5:30 barely able to breathe. Fuck. Just as well I got some more cold medicine yesterday.

The kids turn up at 10:30.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Andrew asks.

“Having trouble breathing.”

“Don't expect me to carry all your bags.”

That's so sympathetic of Andrew. Luckily, I have a roller bag. No carrying required. Just as fucking well.

We check out and get an Uber surprisingly quickly. Not directly to the station, but to La Barberie, a brewpub close by. We have to wait 15 minutes or so for then to open.

It's much more rough and ready than the other brewpubs we've been to. We all get an IPA. Which is pretty sludgy. I can't manage all of mine and the kids finish it for me. How humiliating is that?

It’s just a short walk to the station. But it still gets me out of breath.

The kids are soon metres ahead of me.

“Hurry up, Dad.” Andrew says.

I want to shout “Fuck off!” to him. But don’t have the breath. I just flick some Vs at him instead. Not that he notices.

It’s a lovely old station. Quite small, but with lots of turrets. The diminutive business class lounge is in a modern extension. It’s so tiny, it doesn’t even have its own bogs.

We hang around in the lounge for a while. I drink coffee, which livens me up a bit. Though not a lot.

We're in the same seats as usual. Soon after the train pulls out of the station, the drinks trolley comes around, I get a gin and tonic, the kids Steam Whistle Pilsner. Which seems appropriate for a train.

“I see you haven’t lost your appetite for alcohol.” Alexei remarks.

“It’s purely medicinal.”

“Right.”

I quite like these Via Rail trains. Nice and comfy. And the service in business class is pretty good. With pretty decent wifi. They do have a habit of running late, though.

I have my flipflop fired up and watch some YouTube. With the sound off and subtitles on. Because I’m not a twat. And there have been announcements saying it’s not allowed to have the sound on without headphones.

I don't eat much of my meal. Which is cheese and crackers. Dead good cheese. That’s how little appetite I have. Alexei eats most of mine. I do manage to force down two glasses of red wine.

“I suppose that’s medicinal, too.” Alexei remarks.

“Exactly.”

“I was taking the piss.”

“I know.”

It starts raining about an hour before we get to Montreal. Really pissing it down. Lovely. Thankfully, it’s covered where we’re picked up by our Uber.

We laze around a bit in my room. The kids fetch some food from Tim Horton's. I get a sandwich which I actually manage to eat. Hooray for me! I still feel shit, mind.

We drink some beer and whisky, then crash out. It's been a very frustrating day. I hope I can breathe better tomorrow.

 
La Barberie
310 Rue Saint-Roch, 
Québec, QC G1K 2S7.
http://www.labarberie.com/
 

Let's Brew - 1909 Maclay Mild 56/-

In addition to their watery 42/- Mild, Maclay also had a much stronger version, 64/- Mild. Which is interesting. As this beer is stronger than most Milds of the time, about the equivalent of a provincial English XXX.

Surprisingly, it was brewed in much larger quantities than 42/-. Around 70 barrels at a time, compared to 30 barrels of 42/-. Though still far less than the popular Pale Ales.

There’s not a huge deal to say about the recipe, this being parti-gyled with the 42/- we’ve already seen.

You’ve probably noticed the really shit level of attenuation. A bit under 60%. There are examples with a slightly lower FG of 1023º or 1024º. Not that it makes the rate of attenuation that much better. A couple of weeks in cask before consumption would have reduced the gravity a little more. Though that still wouldn’t have had that much impact on the attenuation.

1909 Maclay Mild 56/-
pale malt	8.75 lb	66.67%
amber malt	0.50 lb	3.81%
black malt	0.125 lb	0.95%
grits	2.50 lb	19.05%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.25 lb	9.52%
Cluster 120 min	0.75 oz
Hallertau 60 min	0.75 oz
Fuggles 30 min	1.50 oz
OG	1061
FG	1025
ABV	4.76
Apparent attenuation	59.02%
IBU	36
SRM	12
Mash at	146º F
after underlet	150º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	61º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

What is Boy's Bitter?

Another short video on another obscure beer style: Boy's Bitter. A substitute for Mild Ale which seems to have gone the same way as Mild.

 

Not quite so Old Quebec

I rise a little after 8. As usual. And get on with the really important business of the day: writing. And washing my bollocks. That's really important, too.

We're starting the day with a visit to SAQ. As it doesn't open until 13:00, that was a good excuse for arranging to meet at noon today. The lazy git. I bet he was up until stupid o’clock again yesterday. Or this morning, rather.

The kids do tip up just after noon. After a bit of snacking, it's after 13:00 when we set out for the SAQ.

It's not really that far. But it's quite hot. And it isn't exactly a pedestrian friendly environment. The sequences of the traffic lights are shit for pedestrians. Minutes of hanging around waiting for the lights to change. I thought they were bad in our bit of Amsterdam. they're much worse here.

After stocking up on whisky and cider, we return to my room. For a little pre-loading. Before we head into town.

“That looks disgusting.” Alexei says.

The kids don't care for my whisky and milk cocktail. I can’t think why.

“It works for me. So you can fuck right off.”

“Charming.”

“That's how the ladies always describe me.”

“No, they don't, Dad. Not even Mum.”

Children can be so cruel.

We take an Uber into town around 2. To La Korrigane, a brewpub a little outside the old town. It’s located in a three-storey brick building. The interior is quite austere, with a tiled floor and simple wooden furniture. Partitioned off at the back is a small brew house.

We sit inside. And get some beers, obviously. Imperial IPA for me, something Lagery for the kids.

We also order some food. Kimchi quail eggs and poutine for me and Alexei. A burger for Andrew. The poutine is dead good again. Not so sure about the kimchi. I’ve been spoilt by the stuff Dolores makes.

“I'm not going to be buying an electric vehicle anytime soon. Not unless it's a wheelchair.”

“We can make that happen, Dad.” Andrew retorts.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“That's because it was.”

“What a lovely thing to say.”

“I do my best, Dad.”

We only stay for a couple of rounds. Because we're headed to Noctem, another brewpub only a couple of blocks away. That's the reason I chose these two breweries: their proximity to each other. I don’t want too much walking to interfere with my drinking.

The interior is again understated. With a plain, wooden L-shaped bar counter. And very simple furniture. Nothing flashy. The brew house is glassed off in a corner at the rear.

More pints. Triple IPA for me. Something Lagery for the kids. We get some more food, too, chicken hearts and humus. Just snacky things to share.
 
“At least I went into Tim Horton's in a Canadiens jersey. You can't get any more Canadian than that.” Alexei remarks randomly.

“You could have been singing ‘Oh, Canada’ as well.”

“That would have been over the top, Dad.”

“Which isn’t your style at all, is it?”

“Shut up, Dad.”

They're having a pub quiz. We don't participate but do watch. It's not as difficult as I had expected. Until the music round, where I don’t recognise any of the songs. What's the connection between them? The quizmaster asks. They're all in French? That’s all I’ve got.

I get myself another Triple IPA. Because I'm on holiday.

“You really love Triple IPA, don’t you, Dad?” Alexei says.

“I do seem to be getting a taste for it.” I reply.

“Totally unconnected with its high alcohol content.”

“Indeed.”

“I was taking the piss, Dad.”

It starts to rain. And everyone comes inside from the terrace, filling the place up.

I'm living the dream. On holiday with my kids. They don't hate me. They actually seem quite happy. Is this peak fathering? I'm sure they'll bring me back down to earth in a minute.

We get an Uber back to our hotel. Watch some YouTube and drink some whisky. Which creeps up behind me and batters me to slumber.


 
La Korrigane - Brasserie artisanale
380 Rue Dorchester,
Québec, QC G1K 6A7
https://korrigane.ca/
 

Noctem Artisans Brasseurs St-Roch
438 Rue du Parvis,
Québec, QC G1K 8M4
http://www.noctem.ca/
  

Old Quebec

I rise just after 8. To get on with this writing stuff.

The kids haven't shown up by 10. I message them. Noon, they say. The lazy gits.

While I'm waiting for them, I check out the beer places I've been recommended. There's only one, Archibald, that's in the old town. Which is where we want to go.

The kids show up a little after noon. And soon we're outside getting an Uber. 30 minutes, it will take.

"Where are you going, Dad?" Alexei asks.

“To wait in the pub. With a drink.”

"What a surprise." Alexei retorts, cynically. But follows me anyway.

“I’m thirsty.”

“You’re always thirsty, Dad.”

“It’s because I’m old.”

“And not because you’re an alcoholic?”

“No. Definitely age.”

There's a Sports Bar, Boston Pizza, connected to the hotel. I'd rather wait there than in the sun.

We sit at the bar. Behind which is the largest TV I've ever seen inside a building. Impressive in a slightly intimidating way.

I get a double Canadian Club. The kids some Lagery thing. Probably Molson, or something similar. We don't linger. And are back outside in time for our ride.

We're headed to the middle of the old town. The streets are jammed for the last bit of the journey and it takes ages.

The old centre is pretty impressive. Lots of old stone buildings. And quite a drop from around the cathedral, where we start, to the riverside, where Archibald is located. Lots of stairs. Lots of people, too. We manage to lose Andrew on the way down.

“I'm glad I won't be going back the other way. I can't . . .”

"Be doing with climbing stairs. I know, Dad." Alexei finishes for me. Am I that predictable?

Alexei manages to track down Andrew. Not easy with the crowds mobbing the place.

"It's annoying all these tourists getting in the way of us travellers." I quip.

"Right." Andrew replies drily.

We have to queue up outside Archibald. It's very popular. Unsurprising, given its location. Several people in front of us give up and wander off.  After 20 minutes or so, we get a table. And order some beers. A Double IPA for me. Some Lagery shit for the kids.

“Let me guess why you ordered that.”

“What do you mean, Andrew?”

“You ordered it because it's the strongest beer that they have.”

“I just happen to like Double IPA.”

“Though not as much as Triple IPA, if that's on offer.”

“I like all sorts of beers.”

“As long s they're really strong.”

“I drank that pint of Mild the other day.”

“And then moved on to Imperial Stout.”

“Just a standard progression”

“Right.”

We order some food. Poutine, wings and onion rings. The poutine is pretty good again. Though a rather pricey. More beer is requested, too. Mine doesn't turn up. We have it deducted from the bill at the end.

It’s more commercial and more expensive than the other brewpubs we’ve been to. I guess that’s on account of the location. And the fact that it’s full of tourists. And I mean literally full, as in no empty seat.

It's a bit of a wait for an Uber. Which takes us to the supermarket closest to our hotel. We load up with tomatoes, beer, wine, milk and cheese. Everything you need for a really good party.

Which isn't quite what we have. A couple of drinks. Then downstairs to Boston Pizza. Because, well, it's right there. I can't be arsed to traipse off somewhere.

It has beer, food and that hypnotising giant TV that lights up the whole room. It isn't very full. The more restauranty room looks busier. We get a table in the shade of the giant TV. Double Canadian Club again for me. With just a little ice. Molson Canadian for the kids. This is nice. Or, at least, nice enough.

Andrew orders a hamburger. Me and Alexe share quesidillas and chips. The food is fine. Pub food. After a second round of drinks, we leave. It's nearing closing time, anyway.

Wine and YouTube back in my room. I manage to chase the kids out at 1. They want a noon start again tomorrow. Lazy gits.

Sleep is lurking inside a glass.

 
Boston Pizza
2300 Ch Ste-Foy,
Sainte-Foy–Sillery–Cap-Rouge, QC G1V 1S5
https://bostonpizza.com/fr/locations/ste-foy.html


Archibald Microbrasserie
40 Rue du Marché-Champlain,
Québec, QC G1K 4H3
https://www.archibaldmicrobrasserie.ca/
  

What is best Mild?

Another of my short videos, this time looking at Best Mild, a stronger type of Mild Ale.

 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1909 Maclay Mild 42/-

In the early 20th-century, there were still genuine Mild Ales being brewed in Scotland. Though WW I would change that, with Mild virtually becoming extinct north of the border.

There are a few very notable features of this beer. For starters, there’s the gravity. Which, at 1034º, looks like a post-WW II Mild. In England, most Milds were much stronger at this point. Though there are ones from breweries in more rural locations – for example, Adnams – with beers of a similar strength.

The grist is also unusual. Particularly in the use of around 20% grits. Most UK breweries employed maize in flaked form rather than grits. Which you might want to do, as grits require a cereal mash before normal mashing begins. And few English brewers would have roasted malts like amber and black malt in their Mild Ales.

The sugar is simply described as “inversion”, which I take to mean invert sugar. I’ve plumped for No. 2 invert. Just as a sort of neutral choice. It could have been No. 3, as it doesn’t appear in in the Pale Ales.

Now for the hops. Of which there are loads. Hallertau from the 1905, 1906 and 1907 harvests;  Californian from 1907, Farnham from 1908 and Worcester from 1905. 

1909 Maclay Mild 42/-
pale malt	4.50 lb	61.02%
amber malt	0.25 lb	3.39%
black malt	0.125 lb	1.69%
grits	1.50 lb	20.34%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.00 lb	13.56%
Cluster 120 min	0.50 oz
Hallertau 60 min	0.50 oz
Fuggles 30 min	1.00 oz
OG	1034
FG	1013
ABV	2.78
Apparent attenuation	61.76%
IBU	28
SRM	10
Mash at	146º F
after underlet	150º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	61º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

Bound for Quebec

I rise just after 8. Don't want to be late. We have a train to catch.

The kids turn up at 10:15. We laze around for a while. Quite literally in Andrew's case as he gets into bed.

We check out at 10:45 and get an Uber to the station. Montreal Gare Centrale is remarkably well disguised as an office block. Inside, it’s quite cramped, too. Not quite as charmless and alienating as Birmingham New Street. But not far off.

We plonk ourselves down in the business lounge to wait. I get myself a coffee.

Our train is coming from Ottawa and appears to be on time. Which is good. We're sitting in the little compartment thingy again. Which is nice and private. And the business class seats are pretty comfy.

There's a drinks service straight after boarding. I get a gin and tonic again, while the kids have beer.

It's all very green and agricultural outside. With the occasional small town. And lots of trees. A few times we get a view of the mighty St. Lawrence River. Which makes the Rhine look like a little stream.

“Would you kill a seagull, Dad? Alexei asks.

“No. Of course not.” I reply.

“Not even if it stole your chips?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a twat.”

“That’s open to question.” Andrew chips in.

“OK. I’m not an animal-abusing twat.”

“I’ve seen you kill mosquitos.” Alexei says.

“Those evil bastards don’t count.” I say.

“That’s a slippery slope, Dad. Who knows which animals ‘won’t count’ next.” Andrew buts in.

“Look, I’m not an animal torturer.”

“Just an animal murderer, for certain species.”

“You’re defending fucking mosquitos, Andrew. The things that eat you alive, given half a chance?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Right. I stand 100% behind my anti-mosquito stance.”

“It’s hard for you to stand up 100%, let alone behind anything.” Alexei says.

“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”

“My pleasure.”

My Creole Haddock is OK. Certainly, far better than most KLM meals. And two glasses of red wine help it slip down more easily.

Our hotel isn't very central. It's about a 20-minute ride from Quebec railway station. After checking in, we hang around in my room for a while wondering what to do. Alexei has found a pub with a decent beer selection nearby: Café au Temps Perdu. We head there.

There's a supermarket nearby. But we'll leave that for on the way back. Au Temps Perdu is a lively neighbourhood bar. We sit on the terrace. As the sun sets behind suburban houses. Dead relaxing, is how I would describe it. The air is still and the light golden.

I get a Noctem Catnip IPA, the kids have cider. And some food: beef dumplings, fried calamari and poutine. The poutiine is really good: rich and deeply savoury. It really does seem to be better in Quebec. The gravy is almost like brown sauce, in a very good way

It's a lovely summer evening and customers drift in and out, the crowd becoming noticeably younger as time drifts on. I get an espresso martini for my second drink. What the hell, I'm on holiday. 

A wonderful local bar. I’m so glad Alexei found it. One of the highlights of the trip so far.

“You're going to have to rate all the cities once we're done, Alexei.”

“What?”

“Score them all 1 to 10.”

“Well, you're a minus one.”

“We're not rating each other.”

“Why not, if we're rating cities?”

“You're missing the point.”

“That you don't want to be criticised?”

“Just go fuck yourself.”

“Exactly. That proves my point”

We drop by the supermarket on the way back. Milk, sandwiches, crisps. That sort of thing.
Back in my room we hang around for a while. I turn in around midnight again. Canadian clubbed.


 
Café au Temps Perdu
867 Av. Myrand,
Québec, QC G1V 2V8.
http://www.cafeautempsperdu.com/