Tuesday, 2 August 2011

Irish brewery numbers

Time for more stuff about Ireland. Numbers. Haven't had many of them for a while. Irish brewery numbers, lets go with that.

Where to start? How about the 19th century. I've loads of good numbers for that. If you're good I'll move on to the 20th century, for which I've even more numbers. No, don't thank me. It's my contribution to the well-being of the world.

I know you're really excited to see them, so here they are in all their numbery glory . . . numbers:


Irish breweries and their output 1820 - 1901
Year malt consumed (thousands of bushels) No. of breweries estimated output (barrels) average output per brewery UK beer production (barrels) % brewed in Ireland
1820 1,321 660,500
1821 1,205 602,500
1822 1,396 698,000
1823 1,498 749,000
1824 1,366 683,000
1825 1,337 668,500
1826 1,411 705,500
1827 1,513 756,500
1828 1,403 701,500
1829 1,343 671,500
1830 1,131 565,500
1831 1,494 215 747,000 3,474
1832 1,543 216 771,500 3,572
1833 1,683 231 841,500 3,643
1834 2,005 240 1,002,500 4,177
1835 1,830 245 915,000 3,735
1836 2,033 251 1,016,500 4,050
1837 1,801 248 900,500 3,631
1838 1,934 243 967,000 3,979
1839 1,814 231 907,000 3,926
1840 1,279 191 639,500 3,348 16,057,591 3.98%
1841 1,030 166 515,000 3,102 15,936,421 3.23%
1842 993 145 496,500 3,424 14,680,815 3.38%
1843 1,010 138 505,000 3,659 14,431,267 3.50%
1844 1,095 122 547,500 4,488 14,294,118 3.83%
1845 1,277 115 638,500 5,552 14,790,006 4.32%
1846 1,465 118 732,500 6,208 15,062,383 4.86%
1847 1,233 109 616,500 5,656 16,415,675 3.76%
1848 1,280 101 640,000 6,337 14,649,395 4.37%
1849 1,205 96 602,500 6,276 14,691,734 4.10%
1850 1,165 95 582,500 6,132 15,478,569 3.76%
1851 1,268 97 634,000 6,536
1852 1,266 98 633,000 6,459
1853 1,308 97 654,000 6,742
1854 1,315 101 657,500 6,510
1855 1,376 104 688,000 6,615
1856 1,542 107 771,000 7,206
1857 2,084 104 1,042,000 10,019 17,984,773 5.79%
1858 1,918 102 959,000 9,402
1859 2,373 109 1,186,500 10,885
1860 2,280 109 1,140,000 10,459 20,340,096 5.60%
1861 2,120 93 1,060,000 11,398
1862 2,436 108 1,218,000 11,278
1863 2,365 104 1,182,500 11,370 20,081,408 5.89%
1864 2,536 95 1,268,000 13,347 21,360,461 5.94%
1865 2,749 90 1,374,500 15,272 22,546,889 6.10%
1866 3,001 91 1,500,500 16,489 25,388,600 5.91%
1867 3,005 87 1,502,500 17,270
1868 2,872 81 1,436,000 17,728
1869 3,001 80 1,500,500 18,756
1870 3,403 80 1,701,500 21,269
1871 3,127 79 1,563,500 19,791 26,431,760 5.92%
1872 3,051 74 1,525,500 20,615
1873 3,520 74 1,760,000 23,784
1874 3,558 68 1,779,000 26,162
1875 3,816 65 1,908,000 29,354 31,014,381 6.15%
1876 3,935 62 1,967,500 31,734
1877 4,108 61 2,054,000 33,672
1878 3,985 59 1,992,500 33,771
1879 3,662 56 1,831,000 32,696
1880 3,966 53 1,983,000 37,415 30,742,649 6.45%
1881 3,779 52 1,889,500 36,337 27,352,361 6.91%
1882 4,207 54 2,103,500 38,954
1883 5,157 48 2,578,500 53,719
1884 4,299 43 2,149,500 49,988
1885 4,291 42 2,145,500 51,083 27,986,493
1886 4,187 43 2,093,500 48,686
1887 4,411 42 2,205,500 52,512
1888 4,477 42 2,238,500 53,298
1889 4,732 40 2,366,000 59,150
1890 4,696 40 2,348,000 58,700 30,808,315 7.62%
1891 4,905 41 2,452,500 59,817
1892 4,904 39 2,452,000 62,872
1893 5,078 36 2,539,000 70,528
1894 4,916 36 2,458,000 68,278
1895 5,071 37 2,535,500 68,527 34,404,287 7.37%
1896 5,258 37 2,629,000 71,054
1897 5,114 38 2,557,000 67,289
1898 5,443 40 2,721,500 68,038
1899 5,552 39 2,776,000 71,179
1900 5,641 38 2,820,500 74,224 37,105,042 7.60%
1901 5,978 38 2,989,000 78,658
Sources:
"The Dynamics of the international brewing industry since 1800" by Richard George Wilson, Terence Richard Gourvish, 1998, pages 121 - 122
“Bericht über der Welt Ausstellung zu Paris im Jahre 1867, volume 7”, 1868, page 119.
"Statistics of British commerce" by Braithwaite Poole, 1852, page 6.
Brewers' Almanack 1928, p. 110

You're expecting some sort of analysis, I bet. Er, steady decline in the number of breweries, apart from a small blip in the 1850's and 1860's. Increase in output, so obviously an increase in the average output per brewery.

The 20th century is even more exciting. It's coming soon. (As soon as I've copied all the numbers from the Brewers' Almanack.)

Monday, 1 August 2011

Mönchengladbach

They're doing engineering work on the Amsterdam- Frankfurt line. Instead of going via Arnhem, Duisburg and Düsseldorf, it's going through Eindhoven and Mönchengladbach. Giving us the rare chance to travel direct to Mönchengladbach. Which is exactly what we did on Saturday.

I'm busy at the moment. Andrew was delegated the task of finding us a nice pub to eat in. And for me to have a few beers in. It was a  harder task than I'd anticipated.

There didn't seem to be anything called Gaststätte in the city centre. Eventually he came up with Brauerei Jöris. Not actually a brewery, but a nice enough looking pub.

What with the diversion and all, we'd expected the train to be quieter than usual. No chance. It was fuller than a casualty department on Bonfire Night. We had reserved seats, so what did we care? I would have studied the unusual route. I would have, had I not got sucked in by a tricky sudoku. Before I knew, we were stumbling from the station onto a picturesque square. (Picturesque if low-budget brutalist archtecture is your thing.)

Living in Holland for so long has had some strange side effects. Take hills. The shallowest gradient becomes a mountain. Mönchengladbach's high street ran up what looked like the side of Everest. The steep one. As that way led to our chosen pub, we had little choice but to strap on ropes and commence the ascent. Catching our breath at the summit, we looked for the side street leading to the pub. Not so much a street as a staircase. Leading down.

"Dad, why did you march us to the top of the hill just to march down again. You're aren't the Duke of York are you?"

"If I were, we'd be in the Caribbean."

At least the walk was downhill.

The smoking ban has also had side effects. I'm so used to smoke-free pubs that it's a physical shock entering somewhere they still smoke. Not that we entered Jöris. A miasma fag smoke cloaked the entrance. Time to look for somewhere else.

Several fag-drenched Kneipes later, we abandonned our search. And went instead to an Italianish bistro. Where they at least had draught Erdinger. Not my favourite Hefeweizen, but good enough.

We then hit the towns shops. They have the best collection of euro strores I've seen outside Liverpool (OK, in Liverpool they're pound stores.)  And kebap shops, Plenty of those, too.

Shopped out at half four, my thoughts turned once more to refreshment. But where? Where could I sit and have a beer without being wrapped in fag smoke? There was a solution. There were plenty of seats on the high street. And a fully-licensed supermarket. "Thee bottles of beer and an impulse schnapps, please." Job done.

There are so many things I love about Germany. Here's another one: it's perfectly acceptable to drink on the street. Just as well when you're in Mönchengladbach.

Sunday, 31 July 2011

The taproom and the lounge

Time for the remaining two classes of pub room: taproom and lounge.


"The taproom is the same price as the vault. The same simplicity—it is often like the kitchen of any small farmhouse in the villages outside Worktown. But unlike the vault it is entirely a sitting-room, wooden benches round the wall and wooden stools; unpolished wood tables, spittoons, dominoes. This is more of a club room than the vault. The same people, same clothes, same percentage caps and scarves, but few casuals dropping in. Casuals are somewhat resented if they do drop into the taproom. It would be bad form for a stranger to go in there for a drink. And he would probably notice that the regulars in there were not very pleased to see him."
"The Pub and the People" by Mass Observation, 1943 (reprinted 1987), pages 105 - 106.
This fascinates me. The idea of  a second public bar type of room. Pretty much exactly like the vault, except with seats. And reserved for locals. The public bars my youthful boozing days in Leeds were more like the taprooms described here. Though there was no restriction on who went in. Quiet hostility to strangers isn't uncommon in pubs. Who hasn't walked through the door of a pub only for all conversations to stop and for everyone to turn and stare? It's happened to me on numerous occasions.
"In the lounge there are padded seats and chairs; a piano with a stool for the pianist; no standing. Aspidistras or other plants in 75 per cent; pictures on the wall, or modern wall decor; never stone floored, but lino, rubbercloth, etc. Generally a hearthrug. No games. Seldom a bookmaker's runner. Often adverts for non-alcoholic drinks. And always someone to bring you your drinks on a tray. You cannot see the bar from the lounge. In brief, the lounge is a large comfortable room with decorations such as may be found in any Worktown home, but on a large scale, on a middle-class level of comfort, with servant and service, everyone in smart clothes. You do not come to the lounge alone. If you do you are conspicuous. You come to the lounge with your social group, ready made, and sit at a table, having no especial intercourse with people at other tables. There is no sex division within the lounge. Each table tends to be a hetero-sexual group—though often these groups are exclusively of men or of women. Sixteen per cent of all pub-goers are women. About a third of all pub clients are in the lounges in pubs outside the town centre. The rest in the tap and vault. Average close on 45 per cent of the people in the lounge are women; in pubs where there are several lounges one may have 90 or more per cent women, it will have become a snug or bar parlour type, reserved for regular women in the same implicit way as the taproom is reserved for certain male regulars.

The saying "A woman's place is in the home" is still current in Worktown where 44 per cent of the adult women earn their own or their families' livings directly (over half these work in cotton mills). And the woman's place in the pub is that part of it which is a home from home, a better home from ordinary worker's home, where  — the only time in worker life in Worktown — you don't have to do any more than order someone else to serve your physiological need or wish. And, as usual, the woman's part is the one of cleanness, ashtrays, no random saliva, few or no spittoons. The vault is the place where men are men. In the lounge they are women's men, with collar studs. For that, as usual, they must pay another penny."
"The Pub and the People" by Mass Observation, 1943 (reprinted 1987), pages 106 - 107.

Carpet. That was on the floor of the lounges I remember. Lino was just too Spartan by the 1970's.

Waiter service was the biggest difference between the lounge and the rest of the pub. Waiters, as far as I can tell, disappeared in the 1960's. A few pubs have retained them, but very few. I've only ever been in two myself. (One was in Grimsby, the other Wigan, which isn't far from Bolton.) It was an odd experience. I didn't really understand how it worked, ordering from the waiter and having my beer brought to my seat. If it had been more common, I might have been more comfortable with it.

I've read this sentence a dozen times and still don't understand what it means: "Each table tends to be a hetero-sexual group—though often these groups are exclusively of men or of women." The groups are mixed but exclusively either of men or women? That makes no sense.

"women's men, with collar studs": what does that mean? Silver-tongued seducers, I think. As we'll learn later, there was plenty of shagging going on in 1930's Bolton.

Saturday, 30 July 2011

Horst Dornbusch on Pilsner Urquell

A Zymurgy article by Horst Dornbusch describing the origins of Pilsner Urquell.

"Modern, in Groll's days, meant that the malt had to be finished the new-fangled English way, by drying it in an indirect-fired kiln, instead of a traditional, direct-fired, smoky one. This revolutionary method had been patented by Daniel Wheeler in 1817 as "an Improved Method of Drying and Preparing Malt." This was the first industrial kiln that allowed brewers to make clean-tasting malt predictably of any color, including pale."

"Finally, he [Groll] fermented the wort, not as an ale, but with bottom-fermenting yeast that had apparently been smuggled into Bohemia by an itinerant Bavarian monk. This subterfuge was necessary because the Bavarian government had slapped a ban on all yeast shipments beyond its borders in an effort to safeguard Bavaria's growing beer exports."

How many mistakes can you spot in those two paragraphs?



Thanks to Thomas Barnes for passing this on.

Friday, 29 July 2011

The destroying demon

NPOV. Or Neutral Point of View. Wikipedia nerds (trolls, vampires, whatever you choose to call them) are always harping on about NPOV. They should try looking at older encyclopedias. There are plenty of non-neutral standpoints.

The text below is a good example. A phrase like "disengage himself from the destroying demon of liquid fire" isn't particularly neutral. Sounds good, though. I'll try and drop it into a conversation. "I've been trying to disengage myself from the destroying demon of liquid fire. Not going too well, knocked back a bottle of Lagavullin over the weekend."

But I'm wandering from the path of relevance and collapsing into the bushes of incoherence. Must control my legs better.

The book is intended to tell a small farmer everything he needs to know about raising livestock, cultivating the land, that sort of stuff. Brewing, especially in an English context fits right in. Not quite as appropriate in Ireland because, as has already been stated, domestic brewing was never very big in Ireland. I'll leave the author to explain why.

"BREWING—The only feasible mode of counteracting the unhappily prevailing taste of our lower orders for ardent spirits, which engender more disease and pauperism and crime than all the direct inflictions of the Almighty put together, is by establishing the habit of domestic brewing; or to encourage public breweries to supply ale and beer of such quality as will gradually induce the consumer of spirits to disengage himself from the destroying demon of liquid fire, and attach himself in preference to the substantial compound of malt and hops—(how rarely combined at present in their due proportions, if at all!)—which, if used in moderation, is strengthening and refreshing. What is called beer, at the country breweries, is usually concocted from various villanous drugs, which the abused art of chemistry has rendered imposing substitutes for the true ingredients of that liquor. The legislature seem lamentably inattentive to the immense extent of moral mischief occasioned by the almost unrestricted use of ardent spirits, (these too are deleteriously drugged by unprincipled retailers,) else, at any temporary loss of revenue arising from a deficiency in the consumption of whiskey, gin, etc. they would charge almost a prohibitory tax upon these agents of the "foul fiend," which make the previously disposed sinner "two-fold more the child of hell" than he was before he submitted his reason to their influence, and encourage the manufacture of genuine malt liquors.

The expense of punishing and restraining those open crimes against the good of the state, and of relieving the misfortunes and indigence, which habitual indulgence in the use of intoxicating liquors occasions, is really more in amount than the income derived from the legalised permission to indulge in the free use of them.

While public spirit-houses are licensed for the merest trifle, and in almost unlimited numbers, by the voices of a too pliant magistracy, it is in vain to preach against intemperance, or to advocate effectually the case of Beer versus Whiskey and Co.; we must only hope for a better system of things, and in the mean time, proceed to give the best directions within our power for making real malt liquor—not that spurious mixture which brewers, (though sometimes without reason, inasmuch as neither malt nor hops are in its composition,) are politely disposed to term ale and beer.

Historians relate that the favourite beverage of the ancient Irish and Britons, from the most remote antiquity, was ale, (curmi,) made from barley and heather and other bitter herbs, until hops, which were introduced into England from the Netherlands in the reign of Henry the Eighth, became the substitute for these. Heather beer was a common drink in the British islands for a long time; and we believe that at this day heather and wormwood, when bitter drugs from the chemist or apothecary are not available, are more used in Ireland than hops. Nor was this kind of beer in the earlier ages confined to Great Britain and her western dependencies; the northern Europeans generally Indulged in heather beer; the Danes were well acquainted with the mode of manufacturing it, and it is said, in corroboration of this, that a mill and some brewing vessels, with a Danish manuscript on the art of brewing heather beer, were dug up some years ago in the county of Limerick.

There are, however, it must be fairly admitted, some admirable breweries in Ireland, on a scale of enterprise and with details of manufacture highly creditable to the proprietors; but these are generally limited to great cities, or districts not remote from them; the petty provincial brewers, with few exceptions, make very bad beer; and domestic brewing, though the excise laws have been at length rendered favourable to the practice, has not been renewed.

The facility of obtaining beer—though execrable in quality—from the public brewery, ignorance of the process of brewing, so long abandoned in Ireland, and a notion that it is very troublesome, prevent the farmer from making beer. He can have a gallon of whiskey without any trouble at all, and this too often becomes the companion of his solitary and leisure, as well of his festive hours."
"A cyclopædia of practical husbandry and rural affairs in general", by Martin Doyle, 1839, pages 64 - 66.
In England gin would have been given as the scourge of the drinking classes. Sorry, labouring classes. In Ireland it was whiskey. That sort of makes Ireland sound classier. His main point - that cheap spirits had discouraged brewing - is borne out by other sources. Though by the name this book was published, that was becoming less true. The brewing industry - especially in the large urban centres of Dublin and Cork - underwent a reveal in the early decades of the 19th century and Ireland's tradition of exporting beer began.

He isn't very kind about country beer. His claim that bitter herbs or drugs were more commonly used than hops is a bold one. And one it's difficult to check. I do have evidence that considerable quantities of hops were imported from England in the 18th century. So clearly someone was brewing with hops in Ireland.

I've mainly reproduced this text because of the reference to heather beer. I know heather had been used to flavour beer in parts iof the British Isles, but I'm surprised the practice still continued in the 19th century. If only because it was illegal for a commercial brewer. And, as has already been said, domestic brewing didn't really exist in Ireland.

Does that Danish manuscript describing how to brew heather beer still exist? What a fascinating document that must be.

Thursday, 28 July 2011

Devenish OHB

I still haven't quite finished going through the Whitbread Gravity Book. There's so much of it. Literally hundreds of pages. Yesterday, I reluctantly pulled on my swimming trunks and dived in. Like one of those lunatics breaking the ice on New Years Day.

I'm on 1920's beers, mostly bottled, from what they call "Sundry Brewers". Basically the ones not important enough to get a whole page to themselves.There's often a regional theme going on. One page will have several brewers from Brighton, then some from the Isle of Wight. (It's amazing how many breweries there were in Brighton. My favourite is Kidd and Hotblack)

There are problems other than just struggling to read the handwriting. My table includes a column for style. Flagon Ale, Shire Ale, Imperial Ale, Pioneer - four new beer style? I can only guess.

This one in particular has me stumped: Devenish OHB. Notable for having the lowest FG, 1000.9º. A puny OG. Must have been yummy. Anyone know what type of beer it was?

Here are some of the highlights so far. My favourite name is Smithers and Son, of Brighton. The Rock Brewery from the same town being a close second.


Date Year Brewer Beer Style Price size package FG OG ABV attenuation
09 1928 Devenish OHB Pale Ale ?? 6.5d pint bottled 1000.9 1032 4.06 97.19%
10 1926 Kidd & Hotblack L.A. Mild 3d pint draught 1004.1 1024.8 2.69 83.47%
11 1926 Disher Ten Guinea Draught Ale Strong Ale 20d pint draught 1034.5 1115.4 10.61 70.10%
10 1926 Smithers & Son L.A. Mild 4d pint draught 1009.6 1032.6 2.98 70.55%
02 1931 Shipstone Mild Mild 6d pint draught 1013 1048 4.54 72.92%
02 1931 Shipstone Bitter Pale Ale 8d pint draught 1011.9 1052.5 5.28 77.33%
02 1931 Shipstone Best (Dark) Strong Ale 8d pint draught 1016.8 1058.1 5.36 71.08%
12 1926 Rock Brewery Rock Pale Ale Pale Ale 12d reputed quart bottled 1002.8 1036.2 4.36 92.27%
12 1926 Rock Brewery Double Stout Stout 6d pint bottled
1006.4 1036.7
02 1928 Tetley Imperial Ale Strong Ale 7d pony bottled 1034.8 1089.6 7.10 61.16%
03 1928 John Smith No.5 Mild Ale Mild 8d pint bottled 1009.8 1038.8 3.76 74.74%
05 1928 McEwan Scotch Ale Scotch Ale
pint bottled 1017.2 1069.6 6.83 75.29%
05 1928 McEwan Strong Ale Strong Ale
pint bottled 1026.4 1087.4 7.95 69.79%
04 1927 Cornbrook Flagon Ale Mild
pint bottled
1028.2

Source:

See that Ten Guinea Draught Ale? Over 10% ABV. Why doesn't my local sell that?

Amiable and useful

I'm going to pin this up in our kitchen. Dolores will really appreciate it.

"The putting of the beer into barrel is not more than an hour's work for a servant woman, or a tradesman's or farmer's wife. There is no heavy work — no work too heavy for a woman in any part of the business, otherwise I would not recommend it to be performed by the women, who, though so amiable in themselves, are never quite so amiable as when they are useful; and as to beauty, though men may fall in love with girls at play, there is nothing to make them stand to their love like seeing them at work. In conclusion of these remarks on beer brewing, I once more express my most anxious desire to see abolished for ever the accursed tax on malt, which, I verily believe, has done more harm to the people of England than was ever done to any people by plague, pestilence, famine, and civil war."
"Cottage Economy" by William Cobbett, 1824, page 33.

The vault

A handscanner is a very handy device. It's what I've been using on the "Pub and the People". I scan in the pages then OCR them. Not too bad, effort-wise.

Lexie needs cash and was asking for jobs he could do. "You could scan this pub book for me." "How much will I get?" Kids. Such mercenary bastards. "Three cents a page, Lexie. That'll be three whole euros if you finish it off."

He didn't, of course. I'm too fussy (I insist the scans are legible) and Lexie's too impatient. I finished it myself. Made for an thrilling Saturday morning. Adrenalin junkie, that's me.

All of which is irrelevant to the rest of this post. Which is about the different rooms in a 1930's pub. I have to smile at the attempt to rationalise and categorise something as amorphous and anarchic as pubs. But that's what middle-class academics love to do. It;'s a harmless enough activity.

We'll begin with my old stomping ground, the vault:

"The real difference between these rooms is in the relationship between the people in them, and the relationship of all the people to the permanent personnel of the pub. Broadly, this is the subject of most of the rest of this book, but it will be useful here to specify some points in the general pattern. The fact that the vault is the place where you often stand is first important. You do not come to the vault to relax physically. And many of the people in any vault are working nine hours a day on their feet. (The great majority of workers, both sexes, in Worktown have jobs which involve standing or walking about, mainly in artificially hot or damp atmospheres, tropical all the year round, so noisy that a lip-reading system has developed as language.)

Only men are allowed in the vault. There is a sawdust strip along the bottom of the bar, or the derived spittoons with sawdust or (further derivation) without. The seventeenth century usage of vault-lavatory has already been mentioned. There is something of the gent's lavatory and structure in a vault, which is almost always long and thin, and stone floored (in the older pubs). The vault is nothing like home. It is an exclusively male gathering. And the males who come to it come singly. They know that they will meet company there. To the vault you go singly, to the lounge in groups.

There are seldom pictures or decorations of any sort in the vault. There are very seldom aspidistras. There is generally some sort of game, often several. There is usually a bookmaker's runner who comes in at certain times. And the landlord spends most of his time there. There is of course constant contact between the people in the vault and the person or persons behind the bar, who may be a woman, and may then become focus of a whole pattern of banter and flirt. You may spit on the floor or burn the bar with a cigarette, and the barmaid won't reprove you. Indeed, as one pub-goer remarked, "You can do almost anything you bloody well like in the vault, short of shitting on the place."

The vault is thus the place where the male comes to relax mentally, though not so much physically. To meet other men, many of whom he only knows here, who may never have seen each other's wives except on the last half hour on Saturday when the man may accompany his wife in the lounge."
"The Pub and the People" by Mass Observation, 1943 (reprinted 1987), page 105.

I keep banging on about how I recognise so much in these pubs of the 1930's from my own experiences in the 1970's. But almost none of the description applies to the pubs I knew. First off, most people sat. None of this standing lark, except for the odd person at the bar. There were neither spittons, nor sawdust, nor were the customers exclusively male. There were decorations, too. Like the Brassmoulders collection of Rugby League photos. Arial shots of a packed SCG, where Great Britain were playing Australia. Bookies runners were long gone, though, like at the Whip, a bookmakers was often only a few steps away.

I wouldn't have spat on the floor or burned the bar in any pub I knew. Not if I wanted to drink there again. Shitting on the floor was definitely out. They'd obviously got more houseproud over the decades.

Long and thin - yeah, that was true of many. Stone floors? Mostly tiled in Leeds, as I remember. Quite often lovely decorative tiles. Or is that my memory playing tricks?

Almost 800 words already. Far too many for a blog post, according to the blognoscenti. I'd best stop now. Taproom and lounge will follow soon.

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

James Eadie, Cross Street Brewery (part two)

We're back in 1890's Burton. One of my favourite places. Looking inside one of the town's less well-known breweries.

We'll begin with boiling.

Before proceeding to the boiling department, we paid a visit to the hop room, adjoining the brewer's office. It is situated over the engineers' shop and general store house, is 50 feet long, and will hold 500 pockets of hops. As this place is not large enough to warehouse all his purchases, Mr. Eadie allows the bulk of his stock to remain in the London warehouses. Retracing our steps to the mashing stage, our guide pointed out to us, in the centre of the floor, the pull-up holes, by which means the malt trucks, on the railway beneath, are emptied under shelter in wet weather, instead of by the hoist cages outside.

"Passing through a wide doorway, we descended a few steps to the copper-stage, another room as large as the mashing stage, noting as we progressed, that the water tanks occupy the remainder of the mashing floor, and are separated from the mill room by 14-inch walls, carried on iron girders. The copper house is also a fire-proof building, open to the roof, and contains two eighty-barrel coppers, of the newest form manufactured by Morton. It is worthy of notice, that in front of these splendid vessels, there is a pathway 10 feet wide, for the use of the coppermen, when engaged superintending the boiling worts, to prevent them being scalded when in attending to their duties. On this wide passage are placed the bags of hops for each day's supply to the coppers, and here we may remark that, having witnessed every process throughout. we can safely state that the ale, in this establishment, is brewed from malt and hops alone.

Bearing round in a westerly direction, and ascending some steps, we reached the hop-back room, abutting on to the copper hearth, which contains a hop-back with a capacity of 120 barrels, and is fitted with gun-metal draining plates. At one end are the hop presses, adjacent to a platform on which the pressed hops are wheeled away from the presses into the farmers' carts. From the hop-back, the wort is pumped up to the top of the brewery, whither we followed it; and this is the first, as well as the last time, that a pump is required in connection with the ale ; as, with this exception, the work in this brewery is done entirely by gravitation."
"Noted Breweries of Great Britain and Ireland, vol. 2", Alfred Barnard, 1889, pages 229 - 230.

That's unusual. The hops weren't stored at the brewery, but in a warehouse in London. Doesn't sound very practical. 500 pockets of hops is, hang on, let me work that out. A pocket is 1.5 cwt., or 168 lbs. 500 pockets then is 84,000 lbs. Truman's Pale Ale of around this time contained 4.75 lbs of hops per barrel. For simplicity's sake, let's say 5 lbs per barrel. So sufficient hops for 16,800 barrels.

Beers "brewed from malt and hops alone". Unlike brewers in most of England, those in Burton often stuck to just malt and hops, with perhaps the odd dash of sugar. I've never heard of them using maize or rice like some London brewers. The only other place where the use of adjuncts and sugar was virtually unknown was Ireland. Here's something to ponder: none of the three biggest breweries in the UK at this date - Bass, Guinness and Allsopp - seem to have used sugar. I wonder if there's any significance in that?

All that fireproofing wasn't a bad idea. Breweries quite often went up in flames. Barclay Perkins, for example.

Let's move on to cooling.

"On our way to the cooling department, we passed through a brick-built room, the remaining relics of the old brewhouse building, containing an ancient copper, and an old-fashioned mash tun. Here was laid the foundation of Mr. Eadies fortune : and our guide mentioned, with pride, that by working these vessels day and night, he had turned out 800 barrels per week, in a little building.

We were glad to rest in the cooling room, which is situated at the top of the brewery, after climbing such a number of staircases. This admirable chamber is 60 feet square, with an open roof, lined with stained wood; the principals, which are constructed of wrought-iron, being painted a light blue. Two sides of the room are lined with white glazed bricks, the others louvred from top to bottom, consequently this is a breezy place in a north-east wind. The open cooler does not rest on the level asphalted floor, but on massive iron girders, elevated 2 feet above it, thus allowing room for a man to get underneath, for the purpose of frequently washing the place down, which is highly necessary to keep it sweet and clean. This splendid cooler is the only one we have seen of its kind in Burton. On the same floor, but placed at a lower level, are two of Morton's refrigerators, cooling sixty barrels per hour.

A few steps, down on the half-landing, there is a large tank for receiving the waste water from the refrigerators, which is there heated by steam coils, and afterwards runs by gravitation through a main pipe alongside the railway to the cask-washing department, situated in the maltings enclosure, where it is utilized. Opposite this vessel, on the same landing, is Mr. Melbourne's private room, neatly fitted up and furnished, and used for receiving travellers, customers, and visitors ; and it is an open secret, that a "wee drappie" of Mr. Eadie's own blend of Scotch whisky is here dispensed to a favoured few. Mr. Eadie is the fortunate possessor of a recipe, bequeathed to him by his father, for a particular blend of whisky, and it was to taste this ancient Scotch mixture, that we rested awhile, before proceeding to the next and following departments.
"Noted Breweries of Great Britain and Ireland, vol. 2", Alfred Barnard, 1889, pages 230 - 231.

Sounds like Fullers, keeping some of the old equipment in the brewery.

Morton's refrigerators. We've discussed those before. One of those pipe and cold water contraptions for cooling wort. There were variations on this theme, but the principal remained the same: cold water cooling pipeds through which the wort ran. Even after refrigerators had been installed, breweries often retained their old-fashioned cool ship, as was the case here. Presumably because coolers performed a dual purpose. They didn't just cool the wort, but also retained the sludge that settled out of it.

Barnard liked his whisky. "Noted Breweries" wasn't his first book. He'd already toured and described distilleries for an earlier work. I wouldn't have turned down a dram from Mr. Eadie's personal stash, either. All that walking up and down stairs is knackering.

That's enough for now. I'll save the treat of the fermentation department for the next installment.

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

GBBF 2011

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In case you haven't heard me bang on about it yet, I'll be at the GBBF this year. After an absence of about 5 years.

I just had to go this year. My last chance to breathe in the unique atmosphere of Earl's Court. No, that's not it. I need to sell more books and I've the chance to tag along on Tim Webb's book stall.

I'll be there on Thursday and Friday, hoping to jam in the odd pint between the book sales. Most of my books will be available. Including a special paperback edition of "Porter!" that will only be available at the festival. There are only 10 copies, so I'd come early if you want one.

'Course, you're welcome to give me beer as well as buying my books. Strong and dark is how I like it.

Brewing Porter the Irish way (part two)

 As promised, part two of the description of Irish Porter brewing in the early 19th century. This time with the big boys: Messrs. Arthur Guinness, Sons, and Co.

Though first there's quick catalogue of Ireland's brewing centres.

"In Ireland, the brewing trade, though not so extensive as in England, is, notwithstanding, conducted on a respectable scale. In Cork, Bandon, Limerick, Fermoy,Waterford, Clogheen, Clonmel, Kilkenny, and Carlow, are the principal establishments of the south. That of Beamish and Crawford, situated in the South Main-street, Cork, is the most considerable; it is elegantly fitted up, having appropriate machinery, with vessels on an extensive scale, and is capable of brewing upwards of 150,000 barrels of porter annually. The concerns of Messrs. Lane and Co., W. Cashman and Sons, W. Condon and Co., in that city, are respectably conducted, and the liquor produced is of superior quality. In the north, there are many highly respectable breweries,viz. Drogheda, Castlebellingham, Dundalk, Newry, Armagh, Monaghan, Dungannon, Donoughmore, Lurgan, Belfast, and Derry, where malt drink is manufactured to great perfection. The ales of Drogheda, Castlebellingham, Lurgan and Belfast, have obtained a high character, while the porter and ales of Dublin are accounted equal to any brewed in the empire: the extensive exportation of these articles is a proof of this assertion, for, until within these few years, there was not any export of porter to England, the British manufacturers supplying that commodity; and such was the force of prejudice, that nothing but an English beverage could satisfy an Irish palate.
"A philosophical and statistical history of the inventions and customs of Ancient and Modern Nations in the Manufacture and Use of Intoxicating Liquors" by Samuel Morewood, 1838, pages 629 - 630.
This is early enough that Beamish and Crawford, brewing a very respectable 150,000 barrels a year, were the biggest brewery in Ireland. That wouldn't last much longer. Guinness managed to double their output every 10 years for most of the rest of the 19th century.

Drogheda and Castlebellingham were renowned Ale brewing centres, as we've already learned. But Belfast and Derry? I don't think so. Belfast was notable for the exact opposite: for never developping hardly any brewing industry at all.

This is really just the beginning of Dublin Porter's fame. 1814 was the first year Ireland had a positive trade balance with England in beer. And in 1828 Ireland only exported 11,328 barrels to England.

Let's continue with a more detailed look at Guinness:
"The house of Messrs. Arthur Guinness, Sons, and Co., was the first to open the trade of exportation, and they have been successfully- followed by several other respectable houses in Dublin. The premises of this most enterprising firm are situated at James's Gate, in the west of the city. The range of buildings covers nearly four acres; the arrangement and machinery are upon the most complete and efficient plan, and every department is so systematic and well-managed, that the work proceeds with the utmost precision and regularity ; no confusion, bustle, nor disorder ensues; the grain is taken up, and weighed in its passage to the lofts, by ingenious mechanical contrivances. There are three mash-tuns capable of mashing 600 barrels at a brewing, with three coppers containing 2,040 barrels. The mashing is performed by rakes worked by steam-engines, of which there are two of fifteen horse-power that work all the machinery on the premises.

Under the bottom of the mash-keives there is a screw fixed in a trough, so contrived as to draw off all the grains into an adjoining yard, where they are disposed of to the public. The labour of one man is sufficient for a keive, through a hole between the real and artificial bottom of which he is employed to discharge the grains, to be carried off by the screw. This aperture is secured and rendered water-tight by means of a cover fastened down to prevent the egress of the liquid. There are three immense fermenting tuns, and forty-four vats calculated to hold from 850 to nearly 3,000 barrels; three of which contain the latter quantity.

In one apartment are an immense number of fixed casks in which the liquor undergoes the process of cleansing, and in another a number of cylindrical vessels, termed rounds ; there are 100 of these, holding six barrels each, so arranged in rows as to admit between them large and deep troughs to hold the discharge of the barm, as it works off from each vessel.

The number of persons employed is very great, among which are no less than eighty coopers. The concern is lighted with gas, and to secure it from fire, there are pipes so contrived that any quantity of water can be instantaneously conveyed to every part of the premises ; these pipes are supplied from a cistern holding 1,100 barrels, and so elevated as to command the entire establishment. The quantity of porter capable of being sent out annually, is, at an average, upwards of 100,000 barrels, that of the other brewers of the city is equally respectable in proportion to the magnitude of their concerns. The reputation of the Dublin double X porter being so high, the demand for it in England is almost incredible; and it is said to be improved by the voyage, the motion of which is thought to operate upon it, in the same manner, as Madeira-wine is acted on by the agitation of the ship. The export houses are Messrs. Arthur Guinness, Sons, and Co., Manders and Powell, Watkins, D'Arcy and Co., O'Connell and Co., L. Finn, Messrs. Sweetman, and the Messrs. Conlan, etc . etc Besides the places already mentioned, there are several breweries in Ireland which manufacture excellent malt-drink; of these, the establishment of Mr. Cassidy at Monasterevan, and that of Darley and Co. at Stillorgan, are eminent, while the neat concern worked by Mr. Colgan at Kilcock, endeavours to rival more extensive houses in the quality of its liquors."
"A philosophical and statistical history of the inventions and customs of Ancient and Modern Nations in the Manufacture and Use of Intoxicating Liquors" by Samuel Morewood, 1838, pages 630 - 631.
Three 600 barrel mash tuns. That's more like it. Or does he mean 600 barrels capacity in total? I suspect it's the latter. 1,800 barrels a day is more than 500,000 barrels annually. Guinness weren't that big in the 1830's. Assuming 600 barrels is the capacity of the three tuns combined, I get a more realistic figure of 186,000 barrels. In 1840 Guinness actually brewed 79,803 barrels (Source: "A Bottle of Guinness please" by David Hughes, pages 276-278.)

Nice to see that Guinness, just like James Eadie in Burton, had fitted their mash tun with a labour-saving device for the removal of spent grain.

The description of fermenting vessels and vats is again rather vague. Just three fermenting tuns doesn't sound like anywhere near enough, even if they are huge. Then there are those vats, forty-four in all.  Assuming all but the three large ones have a capacity of 850 barrels, I calculate a total capacity of 43,850 barrels. Or enough to hold more than half of their annual production. That implies that they vatted beer for long periods.

The cleansing system appears to be pontoes: relatively small, round vessels with troughs to take away expelled yeast. Most of the large London Porter brewers cleansed in a similar way.

That's an interesting claim about the motion of the ship helping to mature the beer during the journey. Like madeira. Didn't Pete Brown talk make that connection, too, in reference to IPA? Just one slight problem. The Irish Sea is no Atlantic Ocean. The journey from Dublin to Liverpool, even by sailing ship, isn't going to take weeks. Or even many days. London's a bit further, but still no great journey.

The other Dublin brewers mentioned were driven out of business - or bought up - by Guinness over the next 100 years. By the late 1950's Guinness was the only brewery left in Dublin.

And finish, a few remarks about domestic brewing.

"The practice of domestic brewing is not carried on to any extent in Ireland, the making of malt-drink being almost exclusively confined to the public establishments. The art of extracting a good ale, or beer, from malt is very simple, and it is surprising this has been so long overlooked when the means are sufficiently ample for the purpose. Many have neglected it on account of their ignorance of the process, others from a fear of the revenue laws, and some from not having proper apparatus, and the public drink being so easily procured. From a careful perusal, however, of what has been just written as well as the account given of domestic brewing in England, it will be seen that it might be to the advantage of the landlords and farmers to brew for themselves. This practice could not fail at all times to produce a pleasing, wholesome beverage, alike acceptable to the poor and to the rich."
"A philosophical and statistical history of the inventions and customs of Ancient and Modern Nations in the Manufacture and Use of Intoxicating Liquors" by Samuel Morewood, 1838, page 631.
At this time domestic brewing was still common in England. Not just amongst farmers and the better off, but by agricultural labourers, too. It was a deep rooted tradition that never totally died out, even in the 20th century.