Judging and talking

I rise at 7 AM. Feeling rather knacked. Again. Despite going to bed at a sensible hour.

A different breakfast this morning. As there’s no scrambled egg. Instead, they have couscous. What the fuck is that about? It just isn’t the same. They have a similar colour, but that’s about all they have in common. Still fruit for pudding, mind.

A  breakfast of couscous, cheese, juice and coffee.

I’m judging with Rudolfo Rebelo. And Tara. Though she’s off giving a lecture initially.

We start with non-alcoholic beers. Oh no.

“I judged alcohol-free beers ten years ago. They were all terrible. They all tasted like unfermented wort.” I remark before we get started.

The technology seems to have really improved. None of the beers has that horrible worty flavour. To be honest, though, most taste pretty much like water. But at least they don’t taste horrible. Quite a nice ginger beer gets gold.

“It reminds me of the ginger beer my Mum used to make.” I comment.

American-style fruited sour next. I was dreading this flight almost as much as the alcohol-free one. Unnecessarily, as it turns out. There are some really good beers and no really terrible ones. Which was quite a surprise.

American fruited sours samples.

We’re starting to rattle through the flights. Quite painlessly, too. Until now.

It’s the turn of American Light Lager. In a mini BOS. They certainly live up to their name. They’re all very light. Not the most fun to judge. But at least none of them taste nasty.

Time for lunch. A buffet, obviously. I have salad and meat again. I’ll leave all the carbs to the Brazilians. And they’re eager to oblige, piling up mountains of rice.

A buffet lunch with chicken, salad and rice.

In the garden between the judging room and the lunch room, a small beer festival has set up. Not that I’m indulging in any of them now. I need to keep my palate fresh. 

Courtyard beer festival

It’s another mini BOS: Munich Helles. Ah, these beers again. Tara has turned up to join in. I prefer three judges to two. More opinions are always better.

English IPA. One of my favourite styles. Only joking.

“It’s a style made up by Americans, based on what they thought an English IPA should be like. Not beers actually brewed in England.”

There are a couple of decent beers. And some weird ones. It could have been worse.   English style beers are often, for some reason, very poor in competitions.

My palate is starting to go. I eat a banana to try to clean it up a bit. With partial success.

At least it’s a subtle style next. American Imperial Stout. If my palate wasn’t already blown, it is now. Fortunately, most of the examples are pretty good

Schwarzbier next. They’re going to taste like water after the last flight.

I’ve only had time to take a single sip when I’m called away to give my talk.

When I get to the lecture room, Charles has about 10 minutes of his. It’s about beer in Asia and is fascinating/ I never realised small-scale brewing was illegal in Thailand.

I’m speaking about Berliner Weisse. One of the reasons I chose it is that it’s not too long. No risk of overrunning. Which I don’t.

The audience for my talk.

Things go reasonably well. But I’m exhausted by the end.

As I’m walking back to the judging room through the beer festival, one of the brewers rushes up to me and offers me a beer.

“I have to collect my stuff first. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” I’m not going to  turn down free beer.

They’ve finished judging the Schwarzbier. And are on the next flight. I contemplate rejoining Rudolfo and Tara in judging. Then realise it’s a bad idea. I’m knackered and my palate is shot.

Beer festival by night

I return to the beer festival. And take up the brewer’s beer offer. In the form of a Session IPA. It’s quite nice.

“Do you like moonshine?”

“Yes.”

What a silly question. I like all spirits. Other than that vile Chinese stuff. That’s undrinkable.

“I had a Saison that was too phenolic, so I distilled it.”

“Good thinking.”

It’s still quite rough. But warming. Which I like. I need some fire in my belly.  Moonshine will do quite nicely.

Beer and moonshine.

I go and sit on a bench by myself. As I’m feeling knacked. And just need to rest a little. A couple of people come over to check that I’m OK.

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

After a bit of a rest, I mingle with some other judges. Before eating at 7:30 PM. Guess what it is – another fucking buffet. I make sure to eat lots of salad.

Bottle  share in  the hotel.

After a few more beers, we head back to our hotel. For the bottle share. Mostly of my bottles. Cooper’s Stout, Adnams Charter Ale and Lindemans Faro. All are at least 30 years old.

We start with the last. Which, being a Lambic, is still in pretty good condition. Very sweet, but that’s just the style.

The Adnams next. It’s oxidised. But in a good way. It’s all dried fruit and sherry. Drinkable, but very different to when it went the bottle.

The Cooper’s is also oxidised. Though the roast makes it less dramatic.

Herlinda has a fresh bottle of Pliny the Elder. Which is very different to my beers. Very good, though.

After a glass of nice port, it’s time for me to turn in. While most of the others continue drinking.

By the time I’ve polished the last of my hotel cachaca, it’s pushing midnight. Time for bed. Even though I can lie in tomorrow.