Judgemental

I rise at 8:15. And go downstairs for brekkie. 

Fried egg, cheese and toast. Again. Except I don’t bother with the horrible turkey bacon. The sausages look dead anaemic, too. I really don’t fancy them. I wash the food down with orange juice and coffee. And a pudding of fruit.

Judging was supposed to start at 9. It's more like 9:30 when we kick off. I have trouble finding my name on the table list. Until it's pointed out that I'm table captain today. More work. Yeah, just what I love: work.

My fellow judges are all Asian. All from different countries. With a range of different viewpoints. Should be fun. Except.

“My tasting ability isn’t at its best today.” I say, sniffling. 

I seem to have a cold coming on. Not like I’ll need my sense of smell today, eh?

We bully off with German Pilsner. I’m surprised at how sweet some are.

“Asian drinkers like sweetness. If they brewed a Pilsner the same as in Europe, people wouldn’t buy it.” I’m told. 

That’s handy for when I set up my Southeast Asian historic beer brewery. I’ll just brew those stupidly sweet Scottish Stouts. Does Heineken taste different in Asia? It wouldn’t surprise me if it did.

The flight has a couple of good examples. Though we’re not exactly unanimous on exactly which beers those are. We manage to come to an agreement because, well, the others aren’t twats. Not sure about me. The others definitely aren’t, though.

Bit disappointed by the Double IPA flight. Though I appreciate the alcohol. Some are weird. We have a polite debate about what exactly constitutes weirdness. 

I really appreciate the size of the flights. How small they are. Mostly just six or seven beers. Never more than eight. Which is great. Anything bigger gets unmanageable. I’ve judged flights as large as twelve or sixteen beers. Fucking impossible. For an amateur like me.

Because that’s what I am: a total amateur. My only professional association with brewing was a few weeks filling kegs back in 1975. Beer is a career for most of those around me. Their senses are way more finely tuned than mine. Even on a good day. Which isn’t, what with my runny nose.

We’re now moving onto semi-finals and finals. The fun bit. As we don’t have to go through the whole scoring process. Just either choose the best three beers to pass through. Or award the gold, silver and bronze awards.

First is the Pilsner semi-final. Which is a mixture of Czech and German styles. I can’t say that I’m very keen on any of them.

“Pilsner is a difficult style for me to judge as I drink it so rarely.” I warn the others.

An Imperial Stout first round follows. Which is much easier for me. And there are some pretty damn good beers. I finish off the examples I like.

Lunch is the hotel buffet again. Today I decide to try out Indian corner. Where I get myself a potato and pea curry. I do love me a potato curry. 

I chat beer history with some of the other judges.

“Do you have a podcast?” one of them asks.

“No.”

“You should do.”

Now there’s a thought. It’s not as if I have much else to keep me occupied. Only writing books and travelling the world. I can do with some other projects. I do enjoy bullshitting away about beer, mind.

I’m not table captain after lunch. Which is a relief. As it means less work And, at heart, I’m a profoundly lazy person. I sometimes wonder what I might have achieved, had I not been such an idle git.

It’s mostly finals and semi-finals in the afternoon session. So no full scoring. Just working out the best three beers.

I’m on table 1. Which is right next to the aircon. And fucking freezing. It’s a little on the chilly side, even for me. I can understand why some of the Asian judges on this table were putting on coats earlier.

It’s the experimental beers semi-final to start.  Which includes some intriguing beers with Asian ingredients, such as koji, pandang leaves and coconut.

Another first round of Oatmeal Stout follows. I’m not enthusiastic about any of them. That’s me being nice.

“Oatmeal Stout was mostly a con. Usually, oats only made up 1% of the grist.” I tell the other judges. They must be concentrating on tasting, because they don’t react.

Next, we award the first medals, for Hefeweizen. There’s quite a bit of discussion amongst us to settle on the winners. As all of the finalists are pretty decent.

Awarding the Saison medals is even trickier. With some beers quite dividing opinion. But we eventually come to a consensus. We all emerge with our egos and teeth intact.

The Milk Stout medals are far easier. With swift agreement about the best three beers. The only discussion is about which colour medal those three beers get.

We finish with the flavoured beer final. Another tricky one, as the base beers are in all sorts of different styles. Leaving direct comparisons very difficult. The winning beers, though, are all pretty good.

A long day of judging. It’s after 18:30 when we finish. And the bus for tonight’s dinner leaves at 19:00. I just have time to go back to my room and dump my flipflop. And have a quick waker-up whisky.

Spotting a couple of fellow judges having a beer in the hotel bar, I grab myself a double Jamesons. I’ve only a few minutes and have to down it in one. Warms me up nicely. Both physically and socially. Not that I’ll be needing the former, given the temperature outside.

Tonight’s dinner location is Satay by the Bay. Which specialises in seafood. Only joking. It’s satay. As is pretty fucking obvious from the name. And is next to the bay. Also given away a bit by the name.

As soon as we sit down, pitchers of Tiger appear. Which makes a change from the fancy beer I’ve been judging. After a while plates of food start to appear. Fried rice, a beef dish, spring rolls and, of course, chicken satay.

Thankfully, the satay isn’t smothered in peanut sauce, as it is in Holland. The sauce comes separately in little bowls. Meaning I can eat the satay sauce-free. As I’m not really a fan of peanut sauce.

Charles’ son comes over to our table for a chat. I tell him how his father broke my arm last year. He seems quite surprised.

He’s 18 and will soon be starting his military service. Of two years. Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun. And he’s only just moved back to Singapore after doing his A-levels in the UK. A very nice young man.

We leave around 9:30. I don’t fancy going on for further beers. Instead dropping by the 7 Eleven for some stuff. And watch YouTube for a while, sipping my whisky.



Satay by the Bay
18 Marina Gardens Dr, 
#01-19 Gardens by the Bay, 
Singapore 018953.
http://sataybythebay.com.sg/