I go to Rotterdam to judge the Dutch Beer Challenge. By train and tram. It's so much fun.
I go to Rotterdam to judge the Dutch Beer Challenge. By train and tram. It's so much fun.
| Youngs beers in 1990 | ||
| Beer | Style | OG |
| Exp | Pale Ale | 1066.8 |
| JYLL | Lager | 1037.8 |
| LA | Pale Ale | 1030.8 |
| ON | Barley Wine | 1086.8 |
| PA | Pale Ale | 1036.8 |
| PL | Pilsner | 1047.8 |
| Porter | Porter | 1040.8 |
| SPA | Pale Ale | 1046.8 |
| Winter Warmer | Strong Ale | 1055.8 |
| Source: | ||
| Young's brewing record held at Battersea Library, document number YO/RE/1/59. | ||
| 1995 Youngs Ram Rod | ||
| pale malt | 10.75 lb | 92.83% |
| crystal malt 150 L | 0.50 lb | 4.32% |
| No. 3 invert sugar | 0.33 lb | 2.85% |
| Fuggles 70 min | 1.25 oz | |
| Goldings 10 min | 0.50 oz | |
| OG | 1051 | |
| FG | 1010.5 | |
| ABV | 5.36 | |
| Apparent attenuation | 79.41% | |
| IBU | 31 | |
| SRM | 12.5 | |
| Mash at | 150º F | |
| Sparge at | 165º F | |
| Boil time | 70 minutes | |
| pitching temp | 62º F | |
| Yeast | WLP002 English Ale | |
| Brauerei Potsdam-Rehbrücke output in 1988 | ||
| type | hl | % |
| Vollbier Hell | 40,000 | 5.34% |
| Pilsner | 444,200 | 59.26% |
| Spitzenbier | 21,300 | 2.84% |
| Spezialbier | 118,000 | 15.74% |
| Pilsator | 99,900 | 13.33% |
| Heller Bock | 10,500 | 1.40% |
| Dunkler Bock | 9,200 | 1.23% |
| Märkischer Landmann | 6,500 | 0.87% |
| total | 749,600 | |
| Source: | ||
| Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 269. | ||
"Until 1956, the Radeberger Export Brewery produced all types of beer, from Malzbier (6%), Vollbier Hell (10.5%), and Pilsner (12%) to Bockbier (16%). From 1956 onwards, only Radeberger Pilsner was produced."
Quite early, then, that they concentrated on producing Pilsner.
In the second table you can see that very little leaked out to the general public. Around three-quarters was either exported abroad, or reserved for special use internally. Interhotels were the hotels where foreigners stayed. The SED (Socialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands) was the ruling communist party. The Palace in Berlin was the Volkspalast, the DDR parliament building.
One of the surprises in the book was how much tank beer there was in the DDR. Something I never noticed.
| Radeberger Production and Sales | ||||
| Year | Hectolitres | of which Export | total | |
| in bottles | in casks | |||
| 1946 | 125,000 | 125,000 | ||
| 1951 | 144,678 | 144,678 | ||
| 1956 | 274,880 | 120 | 275,000 | |
| 1960 | 155,820 | 83,180 | 35,547 | 239,000 |
| 1961 | 174,823 | 72,419 | 19,552 | 247,242 |
| 1968 | 135,000 | 139,000 | - | 274,000 |
| 1972 | 168,235 | 145,000 | - | 313,235 |
| 1976 | 202,566 | 137,559 | - | 340,125 |
| 1980 | 258,178 | 134,305 | - | 392,483 |
| 1984 | 262,746 | 177,452 | - | 440,198 |
| 1988 | 291,601 | 157,736 | - | 449,337 |
| Source: | ||||
| Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 150. | ||||
| Radberger sales by destination in 1988 | |
| destination | hl |
| Radeberger Pilsner Export for foreign markets 3) amounting to: | 177,213 |
| Radeberger Pilsner Export for the domestic market for all Interhotels, special customers (e.g., Soviet Army), and central customers (government and SED Central Committee) amounting to: | 141,450 |
| Radeberger Pilsner (Pilsator) | 110,500 |
| Radeberger Tank Beer for restaurants in the region and the Palace in Berlin | 20,174 |
| Total: | 449,373 |
| Source: | |
| Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 150. | |
| Diamant Brauerrei Magdeburg output in 1960 | |||
| Beer | OG º Plato | hl | % |
| Einfachbier dunkel | 6 | 12,024 | 5.20% |
| Vollbier Hell | 11.5 | 170,990 | 74.01% |
| Deutsches Pilsner | 13 | 37,561 | 16.26% |
| Weißer Bock | 16 | 4,686 | 2.03% |
| Deutscher Porter | 18 | 1,474 | 0.64% |
| Doppelkaramelbier | 12 | 4,304 | 1.86% |
| Average/Total | 11.6 | 231,039 | |
| Source: | |||
| Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 253. | |||
| 1990 Youngs Porter | ||
| pale malt | 6.75 lb | 70.90% |
| roast barley | 0.50 lb | 5.25% |
| crystal malt 150 L | 1.50 lb | 15.76% |
| glucose | 0.50 lb | 5.25% |
| molasses | 0.25 lb | 2.63% |
| caramel 2000 SRM | 0.02 lb | 0.21% |
| Fuggles 60 min | 2.25 oz | |
| OG | 1041 | |
| FG | 1012 | |
| ABV | 3.84 | |
| Apparent attenuation | 70.73% | |
| IBU | 29 | |
| SRM | 29 | |
| Mash at | 149º F | |
| Sparge at | 165º F | |
| Boil time | 60 minutes | |
| pitching temp | 59º F | |
| Yeast | WLP002 English Ale | |
Another video of Franconia more than a decade ago. Just shows how long it takes me to get around to doing things. Like editing video. Still, better late than never.
In the video I visit Ebermannstadt, Aufseß and Bamberg.
"As early as 1950, hop growers from the Bohemian growing region planted the first hops in Thuringia (Gustav Dießl in Wasserthaleben and Franz Puls in Clingen)."
Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 60.
These men were Sudeten Germans expelled from Czechoslovakia. They seem to have played a crucial role in training a new generation of hop farmers:
"Especially at the beginning of planting, under the difficult conditions of the time, such as a shortage of hop vines, lack of knowledge, and insufficient technical resources, experienced practitioners and many new hop pioneers dedicated themselves to this crop. Crucial to its successful development was the experience and personal commitment of many hop growers from Bohemia who saw their ambition in creating something new. They passed on their knowledge to interested hop masters who had decided to cultivate hops and were furthering their education at the agricultural college in Naumburg."
Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 60.
Unsurprisingly, given the background of the hop-pioneers, the type of hop initially grown was Saaz. Had these refugee hop-growers brought sets of Saaz with them, or had they been imported through official channels? I'd love to know.
Officials wanted to find a suitable hop variety to introduce as standard. But were struggling. Then, in 1962, at a hop congress in Warsaw, conversations with a UK hop-grower led to the import of 2,000 Northern Brewer cuttings the following year. In 1964, cultivation began at ten locations.*
"During tours of a renowned export brewery, the hop masters, as visitors, were annoyed when it was said: "The top quality of the beer is based on the fact that we have our own wells and only use imported malt and Saaz hops!" At the Leipzig Trade Fair in 1966, during a consultation with foreign trade officials, it was revealed that 25 tons of Hallertau hops had been imported, while approximately twice that amount of Saaz hops from our own harvest had been delivered. This absurdity was justified by claiming that the imported Saaz hops from the previous year had too few bittering substances and that the ultrasonic treatment carried out in the brewery in question did not result in any savings. This jeopardized the allocation to the engineering budget. Since even the expensively purchased Hallertau hops had a lower alpha acid content, good advice was hard to come by. Therefore, the brewery was offered and used an initially anonymous batch of hops with 6.8 percent alpha acids. Suddenly, they couldn't get enough of this hop."
Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 62.
From there, Northern Brewer went from strength to strength. Asd no more cuttings could be imported gfrom the UK, a programme of cutting production was introduced to cover demand. Ultimnately, almost 90% of the cultivated area was dedicated to Northern Nrewer.**
What an interesting story. I'd assumed that the hops grown in the DDR would have been German or Czech types. Weird that they were English variety.
* Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 61.
** Die Brau- und Malzindustrie in Deutschland-Ost zwischen 1945 und 1989, VLB, 2016, page 62.
Dolores is on tea duty again before I awake.
“I suppose you won’t want any tea this morning.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because of the car journey.”
“What?”
“And pissing yourself.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. Give me a cup of tea.”
“That’s not what you said on Friday.”
“I’ve been to sleep since then. As my Mun used to say.”
“What does that mean?”
“No idea. It’s just a general get out.”
“Get out of what?”
“Any responsibility.”
“Perfect for you.”
There’s nothing like a cup of tea in the morning. Worth risking a trouser embarrassment.
You can guess what I have for breakfast. Don’t judge me. I am briefly tempted by the Nürnberger. But stick with just bacon and scrambled egg.
“You should go easy on the bacon, Ronald.”
“But a br…
“I know. A breakfast isn’t a breakfast without a large portion of heart disease.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Just what you were doing.”
“I’ll get some fruit in a minute.”
“That won’t make up for ten rashers of bacon.”
“It’s only seven rashers. And they’re tiny.”
“Right.”
“It’s OK, then?”
“I said, right.”
“That doesn’t sound like a: right, it’s OK. More like a: right, you believe that if you want.”
“Right.”
“You’re not making things any clearer.”
“Right.”
After we’re done eating, Lars Marius Garshol comes and sits by me. I’ve only seen him briefly so far this weekend. It’s good to have a chance for a proper talk.
We have a fascinating discussion about systems of taxation and how they influence the brewing industry and beer. So fascinating that Dolores goes upstairs to pack before we’re done.
I really appreciate conversations like this. There aren’t many people I can have serious discussions with about some topics. One fewer since Martyn Cornell died. I have to grab every chance I get.
Just before checkout time I drag myself away from Lars and join Dolores upstairs.
I’d hoped our luggage would be later on the way back, after selling lots of books. All the beer I’ve been given put paid to that hope. Not that I’m complaining. About the beer, I mean. I’m obviously not overjoyed at the weight.
We leave Romrod around 11:30. Christoph seems to have a similar luggage experience to us. The beer that he brought and served being replaced by beer he’s been given.
As we zoom along the autobahn, me and Christoph chat about the conference and beer in general.
It’s getting on for 15:00 when we’re dropped off at Düsseldorf Hauptbahnhof. About four hours before our train is due. We dump our bags in the left luggage and head towards town.
Our plan? Not that it’s much of one. Head towards Schuhmacher. Hopefully finding somewhere on the way to have a beer and maybe something to eat.
We don’t get even halfway to Schuhmacher before finding somewhere that looks OK. Barco.
“What do you think, Ronald?”
“They’ve got a Füchschen Alt sign. Let’s go in.”
For a German pub, the beer list is quite long. Six draught beers: Füchschen Alt, Peters Kölsch, Radeberger Pilsner, Mythos Hellenic Lager and Guinness Irish Stout. Not often you see Kölsch in Düsseldorf.
“Ein Alt, Bitte.”
What else would I drink in Düsseldorf? Certainly not Kölsch.
Dolores has a Hefeweizen. No surprise there.
“Do you want to eat? I wouldn’t mind something.” I ask.
“Can do. It seems to be some sort of Greek place.”
“Do you want to share a Schnitzel?”
“That’s not very Greek.”
“It’s what I feel like.”
“What about a souvlaki as well?”
“OK.”
The souvlaki is pretty nice. And only four euros. The Schnitzel is OK. Not huge, but not expensive, either.
“Can you hear the radio?” Dolores asks.
“What about it.”
“It’s Greek.”
“Is it?”
“Can’t you hear that?”
“No.”
“You’re going deaf.”
“What?”
“Very funny.”
Dolores has been tracking our train on an app. It started in Munich, got delayed a little, then caught up again.
“You never know with DB.” Dolores says. “Something always goes wrong. You’re lucky if your train runs at all.”
She’s had a lot of bad experiences when visiting her sister. Trains that didn’t turn up. Ones that just stopped at the border. Then there were all the delayed trains and missed connections.
“Hopefully, our train will be OK. Like the one out here.”
“That hadn’t travelled hundreds of kilometres in Germany.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
That’s got me worried. I fancy sleeping in my own bed tonight. Any bed, come to think of it.
We’re in no rush to leave. As we still have quite a bit of time before our train.
Around 18:00, we roll up at the station. Where we browse the bookshop before we pick up our bags.
Platform 17 should be it. The board by the stairs to the platform lists trains that all should have already left.
“Why are they showing trains that have already left?” I ask.
“Look more closely. They’re all delayed.”
“That’s not a good sign.”
Dolores checks the app. “Our train is still on time. For now.”
“Very reassuring.”
We find seats on the platform. And listen to all the delayed train announcements. Every train seems to be delayed. There are varied excuses. Sorry, reasons.
The train was prepared late. A police action. Unauthorised personnel on the track. A previous train was delayed. A technical problem.
“At least they’re being imaginative.” I remark.
“I’d prefer the trains to be on time.”
“Don’t be so unreasonable.”
Our train comes up on the board as the one after next. And on time. Hooray! Then disappears again.
Dolores checks her app.
“It says that our train has already left.”
“Pretty sure I didn’t see it.”
“Unless it left from a different platform.”
Cue mild panic.
An announcement informs us that our train is delayed twenty minutes due to a technical problem. Great. How do they know they can fix it in twenty minutes? Answer: they don’t.
The delay keeps increasing.
“If it’s over an hour late we’ll get some of our money back.” Dolores says.
“That’s something. As long as it runs all the way to Amsterdam.”
The train arrives seventy minutes late. And is pretty full. We a bit of messing around, we find seats. Plopping down with some degree of relief.
I prepare myself a “special drink” for the journey. Drinking half of a bottle of cola then filling it up with my hotel whisky.
“Don’t go crazy, Ronald.”
“You know me.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m saying: don’t go crazy.”
“You have such a distorted opinion of me.”
“Realistic, Ronald, realistic.”
I don’t go crazy. And the trip back is uneventful. If late.
In Amsterdam, it’s raining. Now there’s a surprise. We get a tram straight away. And are soon back home.
Andrew is waiting for us. Without any tea. He’s no Dolores.
Barco
Charlottenstraße 51,
40210 Düsseldorf.
http://www.barco-lounge.de/
A video, this time with a commentary. Of sorts.
| 1990 Youngs Premium Lager | ||
| lager malt | 10.50 lb | 100.00% |
| Styrian Goldings 60 min | 1.50 oz | |
| Styrian Goldings 10 min | 0.67 oz | |
| OG | 1048 | |
| FG | 1011.5 | |
| ABV | 4.83 | |
| Apparent attenuation | 76.04% | |
| IBU | 25 | |
| SRM | 3 | |
| Mash at | 147º F | |
| Sparge at | 165º F | |
| Boil time | 60 minutes | |
| pitching temp | 52.5º F | |
| Yeast | Wyeast 2042 Danish lager | |
Listen to brewer John Hatch explain how they brewed at Youngs in the 1990s.
Charles Guerrier, organisor of the Asia Beer Championship in Singapore, discusses brewing in East Asia. And why it can be difficult.
Dolores has made tea before I wake. Again.
“Cup of tea, Ronald?”
“Yes, please. No fear of pissing myself today.”
“Charming.”
“Just being honest.”
I’m intrigued by what the breakfast will offer.
“I wonder if there’ll be bacon.”
“Why?” Dolores asks.
“A breakfast isn’t a breakfast without bacon. Not a proper one”
“That’s just your opinion.”
“And that’s all that really counts.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
It does turn out to be a proper breakfast. With bacon and two types of sausage. Dolores goes for the cold stuff.
“No bacon for you?” I ask.
“You know that I don’t eat bacon. Not for breakfast.”
“I thought you might have seen the light.”
“Fuck off, Ronald.”
“That’s not very ladylike.”
“Fuck off.”
I recreate my preferred Brazilian breakfast: scrambled egg and bacon, followed by fruit. That puts me in a good mood. And the coffee gets me perked up and ready to rock.
Someone comes up and tells me that my ride to Villa Raab, where I’ll be speaking, leaves in six minutes. Just as well I left plenty of time for breakfast. We quickly go upstairs and fetch my laptop, And books. Which I take in the roller bag. As they’re effing heavy.
“We shouldn’t have brought so many bricks with us.”
“Very funny, Ronald.”
Markus Raupach, whom I know from Chile, is also in the minibus. It’s nice to see him again.
When I get to the room, they’re unpacking the beer that will be served while I’m talking. Apart from Fullers IPA, all Sam Smiths beers. Nut Brown Ale, Porter and Imperial Stout.
I fire up my laptop and try to connect it to the massive TV. I’ve plugged in the HDMI cable, without any luck. Someone from the hotel comes to my aid. Rolling down the screen to which the HDMI cable really connects. I’m glad it was so easy to sort out.
Ninety minutes are scheduled for the talk. On the history of UK beer styles. Including any questions. I should be able to fill that. Once I get started, I’m hard to stop.
The talk goes pretty well. Though I’m having so much fun rambling on, that I need to rush the last part a bit. I could easily have gone on for two hours.
I shift a decent number of books. Which is good. Dolores is pleased. And that’s what is most important. I never want to piss her off.
The people from the next talk start setting up. Bringing lots of cheese. Rather smelly cheese. At first, I wonder if I remembered to change my socks this morning. Before realising that the cheesy smell is coming from, er, cheese.
We’re taken back to the castle. Where we’ve a few hours before my second talk. We spend some of it in the tent in the courtyard, where we have lunch: Eupener bratwurst and mashed spuds. Not exactly gourmet fare. It fills a hole, though.
My second talk is in a smaller room in the castle museum. Which is in a building about 50 metres away from the castle itself. It only holds about twenty people.
It’s a new talk I wrote especially for this event. On brewing in the DDR. I had so much fun writing it. Partly because I already had pretty much all of the material I needed. Only having to top it up a little with some extra details from Kunze’s “Technologie Brauer und Mälzer”. One of my favourite books and favourite technical authors.
Having Dolores along is handy. As she actually drank some of the beers I’m describing. Every now and again I call on her for comments.
The audience seems quite surprised by some of the information. DDR brewing having fallen out of consciousness and, to some extent, been written out of history. Which is a shame, as it’s an important part of post-war German brewing. Not just a temporary aberration.
I don’t shift as many books after I’m done yapping. But I do have some good conversations with audience members.
“I feel like a lie down now.” I tell Dolores.
“That’s OK.”
“We oldie people need our naps.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Back in our room, I don’t in fact sleep. Deciding to watch the rugby. The Ireland vs Scotland game. Which is on ITV. Necessitating firing up their iplayer. As the game is most of the way through, I opt to watch the programme from the beginning,
Just one problem. There’s more than an hour of people talking bollocks before the game starts. And I can’t fast forward through the nonsense. Fuck.
I have a quick draught of hotel whisky to ease my annoyance. It helps. But not much.
Eventually, the fat men start chasing the funny-shaped ball around.
Dolores nipped to the local supermarket earlier. And picked up more rolls, cheese and shit. On which we dine lavishly.
“Do you want some of the Korean chicken?”
“Can do. How hot is it now?”
“Like Russian roulette. Some pieces are OK, some hot as hell.”
“I’ll chance it.”
The piece I pick is towards the hell end of the spectrum. About as hot as I can eat with pleasure.
There’s a sort of end-of-event piss-up at the Bürgerhaus. Where home brewers will be serving their beers. It kicks off at 20:15.
It’s a short walk away from the castle. The supermarket is on the way and we drop in. For supplies for the train tomorrow. And some emergency whisky. Got to have some of that.
The Bürgerhaus is very busy. I have trouble making my way to one of the bars. Someone grabs hold of me and guides me to his bar. Where he has a couple of bottles of 1980s Berliner Weisse for me. From the DDR.
We open one of the bottles and share it. For a beer that’s forty years old it’s in incredible condition. Not oxidised at all. And very complex. Really rather wonderful. The other bottle I get to take with me. Which is so cool.
Moving along, Markus takes me to the bar where the brewer from Lemke is. He has a bottle of Bock-strength Berliner Weisse for me.
“I’ve been trying persuade someone to brew one of these for years. Without any luck.”
I’m so happy to get my hands on one. Dead intrigued as to how it will taste.
It’s all a bit too crowded for me in the room where the beers are being served. I’ve been standing too long, too. Fortunately, there’s seating in an adjoining room. And a couple of free seats. Me and Dolores sit down.
No need to get up and fetch beer. People keep bringing it to me. Like a yummy Stout that’s a couple of years old and brewed to one of my recipes. And a very good Barley Wine brewed in collaboration with Henry Kirk. Christoph brings over his Session IPA, which he’s serving via handpump. Very tasty, too.
People also drop by for a chat. It’s all very sociable. And lots of fun. Dolores seems to be enjoying herself, too. Finding plenty of people to talk to. I’m glad she isn’t getting bored.
I’m given a bottle of home-brewed Berliner Weisse. It’s getting to be quite a Berliner Weisse evening. Which is no bad thing.
We leave at around 11:00. I can’t be doing with late nights anymore. It’s been a long day, too. With my first beer at 10:00. I need some rest.
“What did you think of the weekend, Dolores?” I ask as we walk back to the castle.
“I enjoyed it. The atmosphere was really good. Everyone was very friendly.”
“What about the beer?”
“Most of it was good. And it was free. I liked that.”
“Free beer tastes the best.”
“Exactly.”
“You weren’t bored?”
“No. There were plenty of people to talk to.”
“That’s good to know.”
It really is. The last thing I want to do is piss off Dolores. That never ends well.
The castle looks magical in the darkness. A patch of the outer wall illuminated blood-red.
Emergency whisky is my slumber helper.
Bürgerhaus Romrod
Zeller Str. 9,
36329 Romrod.
A video of my time at the Heimbrau Convention.
What's the point of it, you may ask. Dolores already has. Several times.
"What do we get out of this?"
"Exposure?"
"That's what you get when you try to sleep half way up Everest."
"I didn't mean that sort of exposure."
"I know. I'm not an idiot."
I have a couple of aims. Mostly mirroring what I do on the blog. Drone on endlessly about historical stuff. Or Report stream-of-conscious-style about my trips abroad.
Most important is recording retired brewers about brewing in the distant days of my youth.Really important oral history.
Almost as important as that, is getting anyone to listen to my music.
My debut album will be out in a couple of months. Reserve your copies now.
A sample video.
Dolores has already made tea when I wake up.
“No tea for me.”
“Why not, Ronald?”
“I don’t want to be bursting for a piss in the car.”
“Charming.”
You have to think of these things when you’re my age. Especially when a long car journey is planned.
With the hotel breakfast a bit pricey, we’re dining on our Lidl purchases. Rolls, cheese and sliced meat. It’s full of cheapy goodness. Dolores tries the washed Korean chicken.
“It’s not too bad now. Just about edible. Give it a try.”
“Not for breakfast.”
“Because it will make you want to piss?”
“Very funny.”
Once checked out, we take seats in the lobby next to the window to wait for our lift.
“Do you know what Christoph looks like?”
“No. I told you we’ve never met.”
“You might have seen a photo.”
A car pulls up outside bang on the planned time of 11:00. It’s Christoph Riedel. Our ride to sunny Romrod.
Getting all the luggage to fit is a bit of a challenge on account of all the beer in the boot. But we manage it. Soon we’re rocking through Düsseldorf. Its streets bustling with traffic. And bristling with red lights. It takes a while before we pop out onto the motorway.
As we race through the German countryside, I chat with Christoph about beery things. History, mostly. It fills the time nicely. As we have a way to go. Three hours or so.
Halfway there, we stop for lunch. At a service station. This being Germany, there’s a pub and beer garden. Though it’s too chilly for the latter.
We sit inside. Where it’s kitschly rustic. In a fun sort of way. They seem to be big on Schnitzels. Which is what Christoph and Manuel order. With chips. Dolores goes for a Schnitzel on bread. While I opt for a Strammer Max. And a regional Pils.
The food is pretty good, and the portions generous. Not stupidly priced, either. Not bad for a service station. Though having to pay a euro for the bogs is annoying.
As we get closer to our destination, it’s very rural. Looking very much like Thüringen, with half-timbered villages. The trees are just sprouting green fingers, in bright contrast to the dull browns and greys of the surrounding fields.
We park a little away from the castle and approach it on foot. The towers loom majestically over the town. In a beautifully gothic way. Dead impressive.
We’re staying on the first floor. Not in a tower, sadly. The walls are a metre thick, though. And it’s up a stone spiral staircase. Still pretty cool.
Once we’ve stashed our stuff, we go for a wander. Let’s be honest: in search of beer. It takes a little while. As they haven’t really started serving yet. Eventually someone comes up and offers us some. A rather nice strong Stout. A good start.
There’s a reception for the speakers in the hotel restaurant. For which there’s a cask of Roppelt Kellerbier. Oooh. I’ll have some of that. It’s very fizzy. My first glass is mostly foam. Nice tasting foam, mind.
We wander into another bit of the castle. Where more beer is served. And some rather nice cheese. Dolores gets a mirabel beer which she rather likes. Chatting with the brewer for a while. She seems to be enjoying herself. I’m relieved. I had worried that she’d be bored. Or hate all the beers. Or both.
The evening passes as we pass through various rooms. Drinking various beers, mostly home-brewed. And mostly pretty tasty.
As pleasant as the beers are, and the people we chat with, we don’t stay out too late. My first talk tomorrow is quite early: 9:45. I want to have a leisurely breakfast, too. I’ll need to be up by 8:00.
I start typing up notes back in the room.
“Are you writing lies again, Ronald?”
“No. Just improving the truth a little.”
“Isn’t that just another way to describe lying?”
“Not at all. It’s just a better version of the truth.”
“It’s still lying.”
“Maybe technically.”
I have a whisky nightcap, obviously. Purely for medicinal purposes. Not because I’m a pisshead.
MAXI Autohof Mogendorf
Im Reimersheck 3,
56424 Mogendorf.
https://www.maxi-autohof.com/mogendorf/
A video of the day.
Buy a signed paperback edition of the Homebrewer's Guide to Vintage Beer. For locations inside Europe.
Buy a signed paperback edition of the Homebrewer's Guide to Vintage Beer. For the USA, Canada, Australia and other locations outside Europe.
Make your birthday special - by brewing a beer originally made on that date.
For a mere 25 euros, I'll create a bespoke recipe for any day of the year you like. As well as the recipe, there's a few hundred words of text describing the beer and its historical context and an image of the original brewing record.
Just click on the button below.