Let's Brew - 1906 Drybrough PI 60/-

Next up the strength ladder is PI 60/-. At least I think so. I had at first thought this was the strongest of the three Pale Ales. But, on closer inspection, it turns out to be the middle one. It was hard to tell, given the three were pretty well always all parti-gyled together.

No need for me to go through the details of the recipe. Because – you guessed it – this beer was parti-gyled with PI 48/-. I like to include beers from the same parti-gyle. For the simple reason that I don’t want people to interpret slight differences between parti-gyles as actual differences in the individual beers.

In terms of gravity, PI 60/- is similar to an English AK. Making it a light Pale Ale. The weakest type produced South of the border.

The attenuation is slightly better than for 48/-. But I wouldn’t read too much into that. I’m sure that the true final gravities were lower. I’ve used the racking gravity from the brewing record. A week or two in cask would have knocked that down a bit.

1906 Drybrough PI 60/-
pale malt	7.75 lb	76.39%
flaked rice	0.875 lb	8.62%
flaked maize	0.50 lb	4.93%
No. 1 invert sugar	0.50 lb	4.93%
No. 2 invert sugar	0.50 lb	4.93%
Caramel 500 SRM	0.02 lb	0.20%
Fuggles 120 mins	0.67 oz
Fuggles 90 mins	0.67 oz
Goldings 30 mins	0.67 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.50 oz
OG	1045
FG	1015
ABV	3.97
Apparent attenuation	66.67%
IBU	26
SRM	6.5
Mash at	148º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	60.5º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

 

The Damned

I went to see The Damned at the Melkweg this week. Which was a slightly surreal experience.

I've seen them twice before. Both times in 1976. First time on their own. The second time along with The Sex Pistols and The Clash. On both occasions they  were dead good. And the first punk band I ever saw.

Watching the audience stream in, a couple of things occurred to me.

I wondered what the older audience members had looked like back in the 1970s. How many of those bald heads once sprouted mohicans? Or had they been part-time punks, dressing up at the weekend? Was that what I was? I cropped my hair short but I never had the classic punk look.

Seeing some surprisingly young punters, I realised not only had they not been born last time I saw The Damned, their parents might not have been, either. A  sobering thought.

Something I often do when comparing two periods of the past, is to move the dates to the present. Here I was doing the opposite. What was 48 years before 1976? 1928. What music was popular then?  George Formby? Odd to think how music has changed less in the last 50 years.

It's been a couple of years since I was last in the Melkweg. To see Lee Scratch Perry. That was with Lucas and Andrew, too. Just as today. I used to go pretty often in the 1990s. When I had more time and energy.

We kicked off with a few beers in the Waterhole, which is just around the corner from the Melkweg. Where it's only 5.50 euros a pint. Along with De Balie, it's the only decent pub around the Leidseplein.

To maintain the beer theme, I'll  let you know what I was drinking. La Chouffe. Not had it in a while. It's much less common than it once was.In  the Melkweg, the beer selection is much worse thna it used to be. Just Grolsch Pils and Weizen on draught. I went for the latter. It was really bad. All diacetyl. Pretty much undrinkable. Though I did manage to force it down.

The Damned were surprisingly good. Very tight and full of energy. Pretty much as they had been 48 years ago. Very sprightly considering they're around the same age as me.

The Damned playing at the Melkweg, November 2024.

I wasn't feeling quite as sprightly. Having had my arm put in plaster a few hours earlier. I'd been walking around with a broken wrist for 10 days. So much for it not being broken if you can move your fingers. I should have known better. I've been told that you can't walk on a broken ankle. I know from personal experience, that isn't true.

Very pleased that they played New Rose. The first punk record I bought back in 1976.

Judging again

I rise at 6:30 AM. Shower and shave, then go downstairs for breakfast.

You can probably guess what I have. Scrambled egg and cheese, followed by fruit. With mango juice and coffee. Lots of coffee.

The bus is supposed to be taking us to the judging location at 8 AM. It leaves at 8:05 AM, which is a bit of a surprise. Just as well I was finished breakfast on time. I didn’t expect the van to leave before 8:30 AM. At the earliest

I'm judging with Herlinda Heras and Joe Vogelbacher. Both Americans. Though it’s a while before we get started. Which is often the case at these events.

We're the last table to get beers. And we get one twice. And three beers are missing. Not the greatest of starts. It's Munich Helles, incidentally. There's so much messing around it's time for lunch when we're done. And we still haven't judged the three missing beers.

Lunch is a buffet, obviously. It's OK. The salads are really good. The meat is rather dry. Which isn’t uncommon in these buffets.

A breakfast of scrambled egg, cheese, mango juice and coffee.

Outside in the garden they're selling cachaca, posh coffee and chocolate. A couple of samples of cachaca liven me up a treat. Then I can't resist picking up three bottles of the stuff. Two for home, one for the hotel. And a bar of chocolate for Dolores and the kids. That only seems fair.

Cachaca!

After lunch, it's American IPA. The first one I try is pretty good. Then there are a couple of real stinkers. Literally. One smells like TCP. Lovely.

Judges judging.

English Pale Ale. One really good one. Some of the others are a bit weird. Foreign brewers often have strange ideas about how English styles should taste. Possibly, because they’re going solely from the style guidelines rather than personal experience of English-brewed beers.

I'm exhausted by the time we're done at almost 6 PM. Which isn’t unusual. Judging is very tiring. And not because of the alcohol. I defy anyone to become intoxicated during the judging process. Unless they’re a total lightweight. Or only judge flights of Imperial Stout and Barley Wine.

Samples of beer for judging.

It’s hard to explain what judging is like to someone who has never done any. Having to concentrate on every sip and analyse what you’re tasting is miles away from recreational drinking. And mentally extremely tiring.

The food is at 7:30 PM leaving me with some hanging around outside. Where I sample more cachaca. And some of the nice coffee. I then use my plastic coffee cup to drink some of the unaged cachaca I bought at lunch time.  It’s full of alcoholey goodness. And not beer.

Tea is another buffet. What a surprise. I have some salad, a little rice and a sort of beef stew. Which is quite nice. The best meat dish I’ve had so far in the buffets here. The first one that hasn’t been as dry as fuck. I guess that would be pretty difficult with a stew. I’m sure they tried their best, though.

Buffet stew.

After eating, I get an Uber back to the hotel. Even though it’s only 8 PM. I haven't the energy for any more socialising. And, after a day’s judging, I don’t feel like I’ll ever want to drink a beer again.

When I get back to the hotel, Walter and his wife are waiting to take my Uber back in the opposite direction.

I drink some hotel cachaca and watch YouTube. I turn in at about 11 PM. I’ll need to be up again by 7 AM. And to be nice and fresh for a hard day’s judging. And giving a talk. Then there’s the bottle share. It’s going to be a busy day.

The cheap cachaca is my sleepy time chum. 

Disclaimer: my flights, hotels and most meals were paid for by the Brazilian International Beer Awards.

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1906 Drybrough PI 48/-

By the start of the 20th century, the mainstay of Scottish breweries was a range of Pale Ales at different strengths. Drybrough was no exception.

Bottom of the pile was PI 48/-. At just 1035º, it’s incredibly weak for a pre-WW I beer. It’s not even 3% ABV. You wouldn’t have come across any beer as weak as this in London. On account of beers as weak as this, average gravity in Scotland was several degrees lower than in England.

Typically for Scotland, there’s no malt other than the base pale malt. Though there were four different types of this malt. Slightly more than half was made from foreign barley, namely Bengazi from North Africa and Ushak from Eastern Turkey.

There’s also sugar. Both No.1 and No.2 invert. Along with a small amount of DXT, which I assume is caramel for colour correction.

Four types of English hops were used, two from the 1903 harvest and two from 1905. 

1906 Drybrough PI 48/-
pale malt	6.00 lb	76.73%
flaked rice	0.67 lb	8.57%
flaked maize	0.40 lb	5.12%
No. 1 invert sugar	0.33 lb	4.22%
No. 2 invert sugar	0.40 lb	5.12%
Caramel 500 SRM	0.02 lb	0.26%
Fuggles 120 mins	0.50 oz
Fuggles 90 mins	0.50 oz
Goldings 30 mins	0.50 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.50 oz
OG	1035
FG	1013
ABV	2.91
Apparent attenuation	62.86%
IBU	21
SRM	6
Mash at	148º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	60.5º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

Beach!

I'm off to the beach today. The bus is scheduled to leave at 8 AM. I awake and notice that it's already light. Looking at my watch, it says 9:45 AM. I start to panic. Then realise that the real time is 4 hours earlier. It's really 5:45. I've still time for some more sleep.

A breakfast of scrambled egg, cheese, juice and coffee.

I get downstairs at 7:30 AM. There are a few other judges there. But only a few. I have the standard egg, cheese and fruit. Plus coffee. I need caffeine.

When 8 o’clock rolls around, it's obvious the buses won't be leaving on time. It's closer to 9 AM by the time we pull off. No singing this time.

Bahia countryside.

While we're on the way, it's decided that we'll go to an all-inclusive resort and get day passes. Which cost 450 reals each. How many caipirinhas do I have to drink to get my money’s worth?

It's quite a long and complicated route from reception to the beach. Which looks idyllic. Palm trees lean lazily towards the onrushing ocean. A smiling sun beams down from the azure sky. Brazil has so many stunningly beautiful beaches.

Sadly, almost all the loungers are taken. We head to a pool instead. One with a bar. There’s a surprise.

Resort pool bar.

I grab a lounger next to the pool and grease myself up. Don't want my pasty English skin to burn. What to drink? It's so difficult to choose. I know, I'll have a caipirinha. A passion fruit one for a change. It's rather nice and not too acidic. Important, given how many of them I intend drinking. I wouldn’t want to fuck my stomach. Especially not before my pass expires.

While the others splash around in the pool, I sit in the shade and sip. Or rather gulp. I want to make sure I get the full value out of my day pass.

A passion fruit caipirinha.

The others try to tempt me into the water. No fucking chance. I'm happy where I am. In the shade with a rather nice drink in my hand. I don’t want to be getting wet. And I don’t have a swimming costume with me, anyway. I couldn’t have brought one. I don’t own one.

This is dead relaxing. It’s great to have a day doing fuck all. Just lazing around and letting my mind go blank. And blanking it even more with cocktails. Lots of cocktails.

A few drinks in, it's time for food. In the form of barbecued prawn. In a deep-fried roll made from beans. It’s quite a crunchy sandwich, as the prawns come complete with shells. No heads, thankfully. That would be a crunch too far.

A crunchy prawn sandwich.

The caipirinhas keep slipping down. As the other judges get increasingly raucous in the pool. This is fun. As long as I can keep the sun off my skin.

I should eat some more food. So, I drop by the Mexican restaurant and grab a couple of sandwiches. Just to soak up the caipirinhas.

After ten caipirinhas, I feel like a change. And order a gin and tonic. The barman almost pours it like I do (two parts gin o one of tonic.). There are about equal amounts of gin and tonic. Tanqueray gin, not any old crap.

Resort beach.

The judges move over to a deeper pool. Where two musicians are playing Brazilian music. And one of our group is dancing. In a dead impressive way. Then Walter Proetzel, a Peruvian judge, and his wife get up and dance in a very stylish way.

At 5 PM I go to the Mexican restaurant with Jan and Joe to have some more food before our passes expire at 6 PM. More sandwiches and some salad for me. I’m so healthy. Apart from being full of cocktails.

Resort deeper  pool.

When it’s time to leave, finding reception and the exit is a bit of a challenge. This place is huge. Large numbers of cocktails aren’t helping my navigational skills. I blunder around for a while before striking lucky.

Some of the judges are showing the signs of a long day on the booze. One has to be carried to the bus. Where she slumps, unconscious.

It's a fairly quiet journey. Though there is some singing. Unlike the other bus, we don't stop several times to buy more beer. For once, I’m glad I’m with the sensible people.

Back at the hotel we bump into the other lot of judges. The ones who went to the cigar factory. They’re much more sober than those who went to the beach. Which isn’t a difficult task.

I pass on the evening meal, having already eaten enough at the resort. I retreat to my room to watch some YouTube and sip a little cachaca. It's been a fun, but long, day.

It’s only around 11 PM when I turn in with my friend cachaca.



Iberostar Selection Praia do Forte
BA-099, Km 57
Açu da Torre,
Mata de São João
BA, 48280-000.
https://www.iberostar.com/en/hotels/praia-do-forte/iberostar-praia-do-forte



Disclaimer: my flights, hotels and most meals were paid for by the Brazilian International Beer Awards.
 

Party time!

I stroll downstairs for brekkie around 8:30 AM. And mostly have my usual stuff: scrambled egg and cheese followed by fruit. But, in addition to scrambled, I also have a poached egg. That should keep me going for a while.

A breakfast of scrambled egg, poached egg, cheese, juice and coffee.

We've got a walking tour of central Salvador today. We're whisked off in buses and dropped at the tourist office on the main square. Which is rather beautiful. Lined with tall palms and enclosed by sturdy churches at either end.

Street vendors are selling soft drinks. And beer. Some of the Brazilians get themselves beer. The party has already started, evidently.

The old centre of Salvador is lovely. Streets of multi-coloured colonial houses and baroque churches. Exactly how you would imagine an old Latin American town to look. Though some of the side streets are in much worse condition, with crumbling facades and bricked-up windows.

Salvador's main square.

On another square, caipirinhas are on sale from little stalls. Made from all sorts of fruits. That’s my sort of market. The judges don’t need much tempting.

Exotic Brazilian fruit including cashew, limes and caja.

Tara gets a caipirinha with cacao beans, served in a cacao pod. I just go for a traditional lime one. Served in a plastic cup. Which is far less impressive. Maybe I should be more adventurous.

We enter a cobbled square (well, triangle, really) with a scarily steep slope Where there’s some drumming going on. A cardboard cutout of Michael Jackson peers out on the scene from an upper window. It seems that he filmed a video here.

A small square witth a scary slope in Salvador.

Lunch is in a restaurant on the square that’s part of the Museu da Gastronomia Baiana. It's . . a buffet. Big surprise there.

Me and Charles order cashew caipirinhas. Which take a while to appear. Annoyingly, the waiter keeps walking past with ones for other tables. We're halfway through the meal by the time out first ones appear. There's a bit of cashew fruit on tap with the nut bit sticking out. And flesh in the drink itself. It's rather nice. Much less acidic than the classic lime version.

Two cashew caipirinhas.

I have the usual sort of stuff: chicken, rice, beans. But Bahia style. Which, among other things, means white rather than black beans.

I would tell you more about the precise peculiarities of Bahia cuisine. Except I was distracted during an introductory talk, wondering why I still didn’t have a fucking caipirinha in my hand.

After lunch we have two options. We can either go and look at a famous church or visit the indoor market. Such a difficult choice.

“Do you want to look around the market or go to the bar?” Gabi Demozzi, a very outgoing Brazilian, asks when we get there. Another difficult choice.

The bar is on the first floor of the market. We first consider sitting outside. But there’s not much shade and it’s too hot. We sit inside. Which is spacious and airy. 

The interior of Restaurante Maria de São Pedro in Mercado Modelo.

What should I drink? I know. I’ll try one of those caipirinha things. I’ve heard they’re dead good.

I spotted a cachaca shop on the way to the bar. On the basis that cachaca is like cheese: you can never have too much; I go and have look.

There are no prices. Not a great sign. I taste a couple and settle on one. Which turns out to be the most expensive cachaca I’ve ever bought. Oh well. It was way cheaper than that vile Chinese spirit I bought in Hong Kong. Even Andrew wouldn’t drink that shit.

We were warned to be back outside dead on 16:30 to be collected by a van. Obviously, the it’s late. We sit and wait in front of the market.

The Brazilians in our party decide to make the most of the delay and fetch bottles of beer. I just have the one. As we’ll be taking a long drive. I wouldn’t want to be pissing myself in the bus.

Eventually, the van arrives and takes us back to the tourist office to pick up our bags. It’s well after 17:00.

We're being driven to Alagoinhas, where the judging will take place. While we're hanging around as they figure out the Jenga puzzle that is loading all our luggage into the van, I notice that we're right next to a cachaca shop. I get myself a 275 ml bottle for the journey, which will take two hours. You can never have too much cachaca.

It turns out I'm on the party bus. Someone has brought along a tambourine and soon all the Brazilians are singing along. I can't join in as I don't know any of the songs. And I'm English. Dutch, too, now.  But still mostly English.

Three large jars of cachaca in a petrol station.

We stop at petrol stations a couple of times. For toilet visits and to buy more beer. In one station shop they have three large jars behind the counter. Is that cachaca? Yes, it is. Me and Charles get a ginger one. Pretty good stuff. So good we get a second. This is fun.

It's around 9 PM by the time we get to Hotel Absolar for our evening meal. I have steak and onions. It's nice enough. But I'm feeling rather knacked.

By the time we get to the hotel where we're staying, it's pushing midnight. After a quick nightcap, I turn in. Totally exhausted.
    


Museu da Gastronomia Baiana
Largo do Pelourinho, 13/19
Pelourinho, Salvador
BA, 40026-280.
http://www.ba.senac.br/museu


Restaurante Maria de São Pedro
1º Mercado Modelo,
Pr. Visc. de Cayru, 250
Comercio, Salvador
BA, 40015-170.



Disclaimer: my flights, hotels and most meals were paid for by the Brazilian International Beer Awards.
 

Salvador

I awake at 10 AM. Amsterdam time. Which is 6 AM here. I’ve only had four hours sleep. I go downstairs for breakfast. No bacon, sadly. I make do with scrambled egg, ham and cheese. With some fruit for pudding.

A breakfast of scrambled egg,  ham, cheese, cheese ball things, cashew juice and coffee.

I notice it's pissing it down outside. In a way that’s only possible in the tropics.

Then I go back to bed for another four hours. No problem sleeping. Despite two cups of coffee with breakfast.

I rise a second time around 10 AM local time. And watch Match of the Day from Saturday. I’m so glad I had that kip. I feel much better now. Ready to rush down to the beach.

Except it's still pissing it down. Not much of an incentive to wander out. So, I don’t. At least, not initially.

After some laptop fiddling, I'm feeling a bit hungry. And I need some hotel drinks. There's a little supermarket just around the corner. It's still raining, but just a mizzle I think I can cope with that. Living in Amsterdam, where it’s always either raining, just rained or about to rain.

I get myself a few essentials for my room. Water, cheese, tomatoes and stupidly cheap cachaca. It’s a little over 2 euros for almost a litre.

On the way to the shop, I noticed a few little bars. That'll do for some food. Which it does. I randomly choose B & C Bar e Restaurant. No caipirinhas, I’m afraid. I get a big bottle of Brahma instead. Which is fine, if you drink it while it's still cold.

B & C Bar in Salvador tables  and counter.

Looking at the menu on a chalkboard, I don't fancy chicken The cheapest dish is figado. Which my phone tells me is liver. Sounds perfect. I love liver.

It comes fried with onions. Accompanied by rice and beans. Though not black beans, unusually. There’s also a really spicy green sauce. It's all pretty damn tasty. And costs under three euros.

Liver and onions, rice and beans, glass of beer.

Looking around, there are around half a dozen similar little bars on this short section of side street. Typical Brazilian lunch places. As it’s after 2 PM, they’re starting to empty out and close.

Two workmen throw their leftover bones to a well-fed stray dog. A cockroach the size of a small mouse strolls nonchalantly past my feet. Rain gently falls. It’s all very serene.

I laze around my hotel room for the rest of the afternoon. The beach is just over the road. But it’s still raining. Not as heavily as before. But still not exactly beach weather.

Judges waiting for food.

In the evening is the first event. A dinner.at a rather flash steak place, Sal e Brasa. Waiters buzz around with skewers of meat. Just like you see on the TV. I get a slice or two of steak, which is dead good. What do I drink? Caipirinha, of course. I am in Brazil, after all.

I chat with Herlinda Heras and Tara Nurin, two American judges, who are sitting opposite. We marvel together at the deep-fried sushi. Which none of us has ever seen before. It’s pretty weird. What would someone Japanese think? The meat skewers, on the other hand, are amazing.

Deep-fried sushi.

I don’t really know any of the judges. This is a good chance to become acquainted. They seem like a nice bunch. It's all very jolly. The cocktails help.

I get a caipirinha made with some exotic Brazilian fruit. Whose name I can’t remember. I think it’s the weird one that grows on the trunk. Looks a bit like a grape. Never seen the fruit itself before. Just drink it in Catherina Sours.

Charles Guerrier, English, but usually based in Singapore, sits next to me. And seems equally enthusiastic about caipirinhas. I think we’ll get along well.

It’s getting on when we return to the hotel. I go straight up to my room. And have a little hotel whisky to knock me out.  Whether I need it or not.



B & C Bar e Restaurante
R. Dr. Helvécio Carneiro Ribeiro, 8
Ondina, Salvador
BA, 40117-170.



Sal e Brasa
R. Carimbamba, 917
Pituaçu, Salvador
BA, 41740-010.
https://salebrasa.com.br/

 

Disclaimer: my flights, hotels and most meals were paid for by the Brazilian International Beer Awards. 

Let's Brew - 1880 Chapman XXX

At first, this beer confused the hell out of me. Why the hell was XXX weaker than XX? It made no sense. Then I looked at the brewing record more closely.

The hopping rate tipped me off first. At over 10 lbs per quarter (336 lbs of malt) it’s much higher than the 7lbs of XX. And almost as high as for PA. This line made it pretty obvious what this beer really was:

        “Ran into No. 4 vat.”

This is clearly a Stock Ale. One which is vatted. In relatively small vats, as 47.5 barrels were split over two vats.

The recipe is similar to X and XX, consisting of just pale malt and fructose. Though the proportions are quite different. There’s only 21% sugar as opposed to 33% in the weaker beers. I’m sure this is because XXX was intended to be matured for a long period.

The hops were the same as in XXX: Sussex from the 1880 crop, and two types of Mid-Kent from 1878.

How long did it stay in the vats? I’m guessing at least a year. Possibly even more. 

1880 Chapman XXX
pale malt	10.75 lb	79.63%
No. 1 invert sugar	2.75 lb	20.37%
Fuggles 90 mins	3.25 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	3.25 oz
Goldings dry hops	2.25 oz
OG	1067
FG	1012.5
ABV	7.21
Apparent attenuation	81.34%
IBU	65
SRM	8
Mash at	147º F
Sparge at	172º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	57º F
Yeast	WLP023 Burton Ale

 

Flying to the tropics

Not too early a start. My flight isn't until 13:40. I leave just after 10 AM.

Why so early? I'm not flying KLM. Or one of their partners. Meaning no lounge access or, more significantly, pushing-in security and boarding. I've no idea how long the pissing around will take.

Today is Sunday. I only had my flights confirmed by the organisers on Thursday. I think they were waiting for money from the Bahia state government. Just as well I don’t have anything else to do.

I’ve also a fair bit of experience of South America. Despite the chaos, things usually get sorted. Eventually. Events have taught me to be more patient. Which isn’t a bad thing. Or maybe I’m just getting too old to worry about stupid shit.

I’m looking forward to seeing a new part of Brazil. Much further North than I’ve been before. To the tropics. I’m expecting exotic fruit and lots of sun. I’m especially looking forward to the latter. It being so fucking cold and grey in Amsterdam at the moment.

I remember to go through the Schengen security this time. So no passport control. Which speeds things up. No queue to speak of at security, either.

A homemade sandwiches and spiked coffee  breakfast.

How can I recreate the lounge experience? (At low cost, I might add.) I’ve brought my own sarnies. I say my own, Dolores made them. Better than I would have. ham, cheese, lettuce and cucumber. Heel erg lekker. As us Dutch people say.

What about the booze, though? Well, I'm not wasting dosh in a bar. I get myself a few miniatures of Jameson. Once I've found a relatively quiet spot close to, but not at, my gate, I grab a coffee. And discretely pour in some whisky to liven it up. And get stuck into reading Private Eye.

A quiet spot close to gate C5 at Schiphol.

Bum. My flight is delayed by 30 minutes. That wouldn't usually bother me on a long flight But I'm changing planes in Lisbon and only have 1 hour 20 minutes. It's going to be tight.

It says that the flight is boarding when the inbound flight hasn't even arrived. No way it's only going to be 30 minutes late.

When we finally get airborne, it's 50 minutes behind schedule. I'm starting to resolve myself to missing my connection. It's not such a biggie. They'll have to put me up in a hotel and I'll get the next day's flight. Could be worse.

I've never flown TAP before. It's a bit budget airline like, as you have to buy the food and drink. Still full from Dolores's sarnies, I limit myself to a brace of whiskies. To accompany reading Private Eye.

I ask the cabin crew about my connection. They tell me that staff in red jackets will be there to help. I hope so.

On the way to my gate in Lisbon airport.

It turns out to be true. The staff are there at various points to show the way to passport control and then to the gate. I get there 10 minutes before the scheduled departure time. When they're just finishing up boarding. That was much less stressful than I feared.

At least there's a screen to watch on this leg. Game Night, How to be Single and Hangover III entertain me for a while. Then the TV series Shrill.

TAP meal of beef stew and chips.

The main meal isn't too bad. Some sort of beef stew with chips. Just a shame there's no vinegar. Way better than the usual KLM slop.

When we hit Brazil, rather than heading for Salvador, we go to Fortalezza. where we have an unscheduled stop to refuel. Great. It makes us 90 minutes late.

Immigration takes no time, taking the priority queue. It’s great being an oldie person in Brazil. My bag comes out quickly, too. Leaving me time to browse the inbound duty free. And get myself a bottle of Dewar's. As I started off Schengen, there was no duty free for me in Amsterdam.

There's a bit of waiting for my lift in arrivals. But nothing too crazy. Then a wait for Jan Lichota, a Polish judge who was on the same flight. Soon we're rocking and rolling towards our hotel. Which is quite a drive away.

It's 1:30 by the time I’ve finished checking in. That's 5:30 Amsterdam time.

Just enough time for an eye-closer of whisky. Not that I really need it.




Disclaimer: my flights, hotels and most meals were paid for by the Brazilian International Beer Awards.

Beer Guide to the 1970s (part twenty-three)

Another intriguing trio of 1970s breweries today. All quite different, both in terms of scale and location.

By far the largest was Federation. Which, in terms of outlets served, was up there with the biggest regional brewers. And, given that clubs were generally larger than pubs, might have had the most output of any of them. They were the last of the club breweries to close.

Oldham, probably on account of its limited geographical distribution, tended to get forgotten about. I can't remember it having a reputation one way or the other, good or bad. Unusually for brewers in the Manchester area, it didn't produce that much cask, Which might also explain the lack of attention from CAMRA.

While to try Okell's beers, you needed to visit the Isle of Man. Which enttailed a fair amount of effort.


Northern Clubs Federation
Newcastle,
Tyne & Wear.

Founded:    1919
Closed:            2010
Tied houses:    900 clubs (not owned)

One of the club breweries founded in the aftermath of WW I. They were notable for being the only brewer to publish the gravity of their beers. Mostly supplying clubs, the beer was usually in tank form. I never got to try it myself. They sold most beer in the Norttheast, but also supplied clubs in Lancashire, Yorkshire and, weirdly, Coventry and Cornwall. A new brewery was built South of the Tyne in Dunston in 1980. Scottish & Newcastle bought them in 2004. They were shut by Heineken in 2010.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Federation Pale Ale	Pale Ale	tank	1032	well-flavoured
Federation Special Ale	Pale Ale	tank	1041	well-flavoured
Federation Pale Ale	Pale Ale	keg		well-flavoured
Federation Special Ale	Pale Ale	keg		well-flavoured
Special Ale	Pale Ale	bottled	1041
Export	Pale Ale	bottled	1046
Light Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled	1032
Strong Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled	1047
Sweet Stout	Stout	bottled	1044

Okell
Douglas,
Isle of Man.

Founded:    1850
Closed:            still open
Tied houses:    80

The larger of the two Isle of Man breweries, Okell had tied houses spread across the whole island. I can’t remember their beers ever making it to the mainland. And never tried then myself, not having visited the Isle of Man. It merged with Castletown, the other local brewer, in 1986, forming Isle of Man Breweries.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1035.9	good hopping rate
Mild	Mild	draught	1035.2	Dark Mild
Falcon Keg Bitter	Pale Ale	keg
Falcon Pale Ale	Pale Ale	bottled
Falcon Nut Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled		medium sweet
Falcon No. 1 Strong Ale	Barley Wine	bottled

Oldham
Oldham,
Greater Manchester.

Founded:    1868
Closed:            1988
Tied houses:    100

Oldham was one of the smaller regional brewers in the Manchester area. Most of their pubs were either in Oldham itself or a few miles from it. With a couple in neighbouring towns. Quite a lot of the beer was sold in tank form and only about 25% selling cask. I can’t remember seeing the beer at beer festivals. I only ever drank it on a daytrip to Oldham with my mate Simon. I thought they were perfectly OK beers. Purchased by Boddingon in 1982 and closed a few years later.

beer	style	format	OG	description
Bitter	Pale Ale	draught	1037.2	well hopped
Mild	Mild	draught	1031.7	medium sweet Dark Mild
Bitter	Pale Ale	keg	1037.2
Mild	Mild	keg	1031.7
Rheingold	Lager	keg	1035
Pale Ale	Pale Ale	bottled
Brown Ale	Brown Ale	bottled
Old Tom	Old Ale	bottled		strong and dark
Oldham Stout	Stout	bottled		medium sweet

 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1880 Chapman XX

There was sill a range of Mild at Chapman. With XX the middle one of three.    

At 7% ABV, it’s a pretty powerful beer. Though it wouldn’t have been considered as being super-strong at the time. Still, around double the strength of a modern Mild.

Though all were brewed single-gyle, XX has exactly the same grist as X: two-thirds pale malt one-third sugar. The only difference is that this time all the malt is Saale. That is, made from German barley.

It is rather sugar-heavy. Though it’s strong enough that I couldn’t imagine that it would taste thin.

Three types of hops: Sussex from the 1880 harvest, along with two types of Mid-Kent, both from 1878.

1880 Chapman XX
pale malt	8.25 lb	66.00%
No. 1 invert sugar	4.25 lb	34.00%
Fuggles 90 mins	2.00 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	2.00 oz
OG	1068
FG	1015
ABV	7.01
Apparent attenuation	77.94%
IBU	40
SRM	9
Mash at	147.5º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	57º F
Yeast	WLP023 Burton Ale