Brown Ale

Now I'm back from my travels, I've been getting stuck into some research. Specifically, research for my book "Free!" Aiming to fill a Brown-Ale-sized hole in my knowledge. 

Trawling through the newspaper archive, I immediately got a couple of promising hits. Bottled beers clearly called Brown Ale from the early 1900s. What's even better, one of them is an advert from Fullers. From 1909.

Why is that such a good thing? Because I have their brewing records from 1910. Meaning I can match up the beers on the advert with the relevant brewing records. And, hey presto, I have my earliest Brown Ale brewing record. My only one from before WW I.

Let's start with the Fullers ad.

Fullers advert in the Acton Gazette - Friday 16 July 1909, page 4.

 Brown Ale appears as both a draught beer and one sold in crates of four bottles. The former is unusual. Usually Brown Ale was exclusively a bottled beer.

Here's that advert in handy table form:

Fullers Advertisement from 1909
beer	price per barrel	price (per gallon)	price (per doz) pint	size
XK Bitter Pale Ale	48	16
AK Light Bitter Ale	38	12.67
X Amber Mild Ale	38	12.67
H Brown Ale	38	12.67
Double Stout	56	18.67
Single Stout	46	15.33
Porter	38	12.67
Pale Ale			2s 9d
India Pale Ale			3s 9d
Nourishing Stout			2s 9d
Oatmeal Stout			2s 9d
Extra Stout			3s 9d
Pale Ale			1s 4d	crate of 4 quarts
Brown Ale			1s 4d	crate of 4 quarts
Stout			1s 4d	crate of 4 quarts
India Pale Ale			1s 10d	crate of 4 quarts
Extra Stout			1s 10d	crate of 4 quarts
Source:
Acton Gazette - Friday 16 July 1909, page 4.

And here are the beers from the brewing record.

Fullers beers in 1910
Beer	Style	OG	FG	ABV	App. Atten-uation	lbs hops/ qtr	hops lb/brl
X	Mild	1052.6	1014.7	5.01	72.08%	5.17	1.21
AK	Pale Ale	1044.9	1008.3	4.84	81.48%	7.29	1.43
PA	Pale Ale	1054.2	1012.2	5.55	77.49%	8.92	2.15
P	Porter	1048.6	1011.9	4.85	75.47%	6.64	1.28
BS	Stout	1069.5	1019.9	6.56	71.30%	6.64	1.84
BO	Strong Ale	1074.9	1024.4	6.68	67.44%	9.84	3.05
Source:
Fullers brewing record held at the brewery.

A couple of notes on the draught beers. XK from the advert is obviously PA in the brewing record. And both X and H must be derived from X in the brewing record. With H just being X coloured up darker at racking time.

And where does Single Stout come from? There's just Porter and one Stout in the brewing record. It has to be a blend of Porter and Stout. Based on the price, a 50-50 blend.

In the crate beers, Pale Ale must be AK, Brown Ale must be X and Stout must be Porter.

What does this tell us? That Brown Ale, even in its earliest days, could already just be a tweaked version of Mild Ale.

 

 

 

Back home

We rise a little earlier today. Around eight. As we need to check out by eleven.

I haven’t had the greatest of nights. I’ve been coughing like crazy. It’s a surprise I have any lungs left.

A breakfast of bacon, eggs, tomato, toast and tea.

Dolores fetches my usual breakfast. It’s the breakfast I always have in Britain. When I can. Egg, bacon and tomato. With toast, too, of course. I wouldn’t want to disrespect the eggs.

Back in our room, we just about have time to pack before checkout time. And for Dolores to make sandwiches for the train. She’s always thinking ahead.

Checked out, I remain guarding our bags while Dolores goes to the supermarket to buy contraband. Joints of meat, crumpets, cheese. Stuff you can’t easily find in Amsterdam.

She returns with bulging bags of goodies. Everything we want to take back to Amsterdam.

Once the stuff has been absorbed into our luggage, we do what comes natural. Which is to trail down he pub. The Euston Flyer, again. As it’s on the way to St. Pancras. It makes lots of sense. And Dolores wants a couple of farewell pints of London Pride. Everyone wins.

A pint of London Pride and a pin of ESB.

“I haven’t been coughing as much today.” I say optimistically over my pint of ESB.

“That’s good, Ronald.”

“Maybe I’m over this cold.”

“It didn’t sound like that last night. I expected to find bits of  your lungs all over the duvet this morning.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Relieved. I think.”

“That’s reassuring. Really, really reassuring.”

I’ve prepared a special drink for the train journey. I’ve decanted my half bottle of whisky into the remainder of my litre of cola. So much more dignified than swigging whisky straight from the bottle.

“Do you want to eat something, Ronald?”

“I wouldn’t mind.” It is about 5 hours since I ate breakfast.

“What do you fancy?”

“I wouldn’t mind a pie. But that comes with mash.” I’m not a big mashed potato fan.  “Would you eat my mash?”

“No.”

“I thought you liked mash?”

“Not from a packet.”

“It won’t be from a packet.”

“I prefer my own mash.”

“You really don’t want to eat my mash, do you?”

“No.”

No pie for me, then.  “I’ll get a sandwich.”

A fish finger sandwich.

Which I do. A fish finger sandwich. Which comes with chips. Dolores just gets some onion rings.

“How’s your sandwich, Ronald?”

“Quite nice. But it isn’t a pie.”

“There’s more to life than pies.”

“Is there?”

The sandwich is pretty good. The fish fingers are solid lumps of fish. But it’s not a pie. My pie needs have remained frustratingly unfulfilled this trip.

We have a second pint. Pride and ESB again.

“You know that they’re the same recipe?”

“Really?”

“Yes, they’re brewed together.”

“How does that work?”

The bar of the Euston Flyer.

I explain parti-gyling to Dolores. It fills in the half hour we have left in the pub quite nicely. I think I may have lost her half-way through. When she starts messaging the kids. But I believe I got over the basic principle of the technique.

I start coughing as soon as we get to St. Pancras. It gets worse as we queue for all the formalities. Ticket check, security, two lots of passport control. Not much fun one-handed.

Then the standing. As all the seats are occupied until the next Paris train boards. I find standing so much fun nowadays.

The train is totally full. At least, our carriage is full. Even before we’ve left the station, I’m coughing up a storm. With occasional echoes from other passengers. I must be making everyone’s journeys.

I’m sitting peacefully on the bog, when there’s a tapping on the door. Presumably the conductor.

“Yes?” I say.

After more tapping, I hear the door being unlocked. I quickly pull up my kecks and make myself decent.

It is the conductor. And, from the look on her face, it’s clear that I’m not who she’s looking for. Dolores tells me that a bag thief, pursued by the bags owner and the conductor had run past.

“How dramatic.” Dolores says.

“Almost as dramatic as the conductor catching me with my kecks down would have been.”

After Brussels, the train is much emptier. And we move to roomier seats. Where I finish off my special drink just as we pass through Schiphol.

Amsterdam seems very quiet as we snake through it homewards in a No. 2 tram. Even though it’s only 23:30.

Andrew is awake. Not sure if he’s just got up or is about to go to bed. It’s midnight. And I’m still coughing.



The Euston Flyer
83-87 Euston Rd.,
London NW1 2RA,
https://www.eustonflyer.co.uk/


 

Monday, Monday

We start our day at around nine again. With tea, made by Dolores, of course.

It’s getting on for ten when we stumble down to breakfast. It’s fairly quiet once more. Where is everyone? December is usually a busy month for the hotel.

A breakfast pf eggs, bacon and tomato.

Some of the foreign guests make bizarre breakfast choices.

“No-one British would have salami with bacon and eggs. It’s weird.”

“People from abroad don’t know that.”

“They should read up on the British breakfast rules before they travel. “

“Really?”

“Yes. So they don’t embarrass themselves at breakfast time.”

“Who’s checking them? The breakfast police?”

“If it was up to me, yes. Otherwise, it’s complete anarchy.”

Few around me seem to have consulted the English breakfast rules. Including Dolores. I’m sticking with an approved breakfast: bacon, egg and tomato. Nothing inappropriate on my plate.

We have a plan for today. The British Library. We head that way around noon. After a while of dossing around. 

The entrance of the British Library.

A couple of exhibitions have attracted our interest. One is about a silk road town in northwest China. The other on medieval women. We plump for the former as the latter is more expensive.

The exhibition is based around scrolls found in a cave around 1900. Thousands of them, in a variety of languages, dating from around 1,000 years ago. I can read the odd character in the Chinese texts. Mostly numbers. Those three years spent studying Chinese weren’t a total waste.

“Is this all there is? Just this one room?” Dolores asks, disappointed.

“Looks like it.”

“That’s no very much for eight quid.”

“Only six quid for me, oldie person.”

As we sill have time, we take a look at the free, permanent exhibition. Which has some really cool stuff. Like a Magna Carta. And, in the British Museum tradition, objects looted from all over the world.

Where to now? The answer is obvious: the Euston Flyer. It’s just over the road. I would be stupid not to drop in.

“A pint of ESB, please, Dolores.”

Obviously, she’s drinking London Pride. What else would she have in a Fullers pub?

Euston Flyer hand pumps.

It’s a bit after 15:00. And, being between the lunch and evening sessions, the pub isn’t very full. Though there are odd groups scattered around he interior. As quiet as we’ve seen a pub, so far.

The ESB is rather nice. Malty and full. Being cask, it slides down a treat. With none of that distracting fizz or chill. Why does anyone ever drink beer that isn’t cask?

We don’t go crazy. Only saying for a couple of pints.

Dolores spotted a fish and chip shop when wandering around the other day. And I really fancy pie and chips. So off we trail.

“We’ve no pies today.”

Bum. We’ll have to make do with fish and chips. Which is what we do.

On the way back to the hotel we drop by Waitrose. Where we trail the lovely fish and chip smell behind us.

“Why do you need more whisky, Ronald?”

“For the train tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to die of thirst.”

“Right. You could drink that cola you bought the other day.”

“I will do. Just with some added knives.”

The fish and chips are pretty good. The fish well cooked. And a decent portion of chips. One between the two of us is plenty.

I finish off my litre of cheap whisky watching Match of the Day 2.




The Euston Flyer
83-87 Euston Rd.,
London NW1 2RA,
https://www.eustonflyer.co.uk/

 

Sunday London

We rise at around nine. Well, I do. Dolores has already made tea. She’s such a wonderful woman.

After a bit of pottering around, we head downstairs for breakfast. It’s surprisingly quiet.

“What do you want, Ronald?”

“A fried egg, two rashers of bacon and some tomato.”

A breakfast of bacon, egg, tomato, toast, orange juice and tea.

I wouldn’t usually have Dolores collect my food. But it’s a bit tricky going to the buffet with one hand out of action. She also gets me some tea. Nice strong tea with milk. That’s the English way.

“Do you have your phone? I forgot mine.”

“Why?”

“I need to photograph my breakfast. For my blog.”

“That’s weird.”

“My readers expect breakfast photos. Especially one Canadian blogger.”

“They’re weird, then.”

“A specialist interest group is how I would describe them.”

Back in our room, we laze around for a while.  We’re in no rush. We literally have all day.

“What do you fancy doing today, Dolores?”

“Not much. We could go to that pub.”

“Which pub?”

“The one you went to with the kids.”

“The Swan?”

“I can’t remember the name.”

“It sells Old Puke. That’s why I went there.”

“Sells what?”

“Old Peculier. A strong beer.”

“Now there’s a surprise.”

“What do you mean?”

“That you want to drink a strong beer.”

“It’s a classic English beer.”

“Yeah, right. A classic that just happens to be strong?”

“Exactly.”

Then Dolores makes that noise of hers. Still not quite sure how to describe it. Or what exactly it means. I’m sure it’s something positive. It has to be positive, doesn’t it?

The eight handpulls in the Swan.

The Swan isn’t too busy. Though quite a few tables are reserved again. Pubs definitely don’t seem to be suffering as much as in the Midlands. Or maybe it’s just busy because it’s Christmas.

“What’s a nice Bitter.” Old Puke isn’t Dolores’s style.

“Greene King IPA.”

“I want a Bitter, not an IPA.”

“It isn’t that type of IPA. It’s like an Ordinary Bitter.”

“Why is it called IPA, then?”

“Because the term was used totally randomly in the past. At least in the UK.”

“What was the point of the name, then?”

“That’s a question I’ve often asked myself.”

Dolores gets herself an IPA. Along with an Old Peculier for me.

“What do you think, Dolores?”

“It’s fine. Just like a Bitter.”

My Old Peculier is pretty nice, too. I’m glad I was told about it being on sale here after the Museum Tavern dropped it. Which left me heartbroken. I look forward to a few pints of Puke when I’m in London.

We stay for two pints. Then Dolores wants to move on. To ‘Spoons. Shakespear’s Head, to be precise. It’s not far away. Just past Holborn tube station.

Wetherspoon crowd.

As is usual for a Wetherspoons, it’s quite busy. But not totally full and we can find seats.

“A pint of Abbot, please.” I say, pre-empting Dolores.

She gets herself a Greene King IPA. Mostly because it’s so cheap.

“It’s only £2.79. How can it be so much cheaper than in the last pub?”

“Because this is a ‘Spoons.”

Dolores's Greene King IPA being pulled.

Lots of people are milling about the pub. Many of them eating. The couple on the table next to us get a weird flat thing. That looks like it has brown sauce all over it.

“What’s that?” Dolores asks.

“A pizza, I think.”

“That’s a weird looking pizza.”

Realising that there is another set of handpulls, I go and have a look at what they’re offering. Ooh, there’s Black Beer: Portobello Market Porter.

“I’ll have a pint of Porter, please.”

“OK”

Frugal as ever, Dolores sticks with Greene King IPA. The Porter is nicely roasty. But no so much that it’s like licking an ashtray.

We had considered a cheap Chinese lunch. But the offers are only available on weekdays. Looks like it’s sandwiches in our hotel room again.

In the early evening, we wander out again. Dolores suggested the Norfolk Arms. But that’s full. Instead, we go to the Lord John Russell. Which has some free seats.

Drinkers drinking in the Lord John Russell.

Lots of Guinness is being drunk. By fairly young people. Including quite a few women. Guinness definitely seems to have got more popular.

My beer choice is easy: “I’ll have a Landlord.”

Dolores joins me. It’s in fairly good nick and slips down a treat. Cask is so easy to drink. Which is why I love it.  No chill and fizz to get in the way of the fun.

We only have the two pints. Then it’s back to the hotel. Where whisky and yesterday’s Match of the Day await me. And a can of cider awaits Dolores.

I cough myself to sleep just after midnight. Waiting for the whisky medicine to work.


The Swan
7 Cosmo Pl,
London WC1N 3AP.
https://www.greeneking.co.uk/pubs/greater-london/swan


Shakespeare’s Head
Africa House,
64-68 Kingsway,
London WC2B 6BG.
https://api.jdwetherspoon.com/pubs/all-pubs/england/london/shakespeares-head-holborn


Lord John Russell
91-93 Marchmont St,
London WC1N 1AL.
 

London bound

“How are we getting to the airport?”

“Uber. I’m not getting a bus with my broken hand. And luggage.”

Economical Dolores would usually insist on the bus. Thank god for my broken bone. I’m such a lazy git. And it’s a great excuse for taking a taxi.

The airport isn’t too busy. I get some extra attention at security on account of my plaster cast. I have to wait while they bring up the specialist machines. Clogging up one of the lanes. That will please everyone behind me.

Passport control, however, is a doddle. But it’s a bit weird that they want to see my boarding pass.

There’s some noise coming from airside. What the hell is going on?

Some sort of demonstration, apparently. Against frequent flying. How the hell did they get airside? There are swarms of marechaussee officers all around them. This is new.

“Do you think they bought tickets to get airside, Dolores?”

“That would seem counterproductive.”

We trail along to the lounge. Where they’re checking everyone at the foot of the escalator. Presumably, on account of the demonstrators.

Sitting behind my whiskies, I think about how the demonstrators got airside.

“They probably just went through security and passport control.”

“Who?”

“The demonstrators.”

“Are you still on about them?”

“You don’t have to show a boarding card at either.”

“I’m not really interested, Ronald.”

“That’s why they wanted to see my boarding pass.”

“Fascinating. Do you want some food?”

“Yes, please.”

Having stuff done for me is quite nice. But also a chilling vision of my life in 15 years’ time. I’d rather not be reminded of that.

Thai red beef curry with potato thing.

Thai red beef curry is how they describe it. More like a beef stew, really. No hint of spice. It’s OK, if not as advertised. I have some potato thing with it. Dolores has bread and stuff.

Dolores gets herself a glass of cava. And a whisky for me.

A sandwich of cheese and cucumber with tomatoes.

There’s no mention of boarding on the screen. But we head off to the gate 45 minutes before departure time. Just as well. They’re already boarding our group when we get there.

“Is this all we get?” Dolores says looking at her snack and small bottle of water in disappointment.

“On my TAP flight to Lisbon we were given nothing. You had to pay for everything.”

“That’s rubbish.”

“Just the way it is, Dolores.”

It’s a bit of a walk at Heatthrow. Which I really appreciate. Not much of a queue for passport control. It’s a while before our bags pop out, though. There’s always some sort of delay at airports. Such frustrating places to be.

Next part of the journey is a piece of piss. Just long-winded. It takes more than an hour for our tube to get to Russell Square. Pretty crowded, most of the way. We have seats, though. An advantage of getting on at the end of the line.

Once we’re checked in, it’s supermarket time. Essential stuff. Milk, bread, cheese, cider, whisky. The cheapest whisky in the shop. A full litre. Will that be enough for three nights?

“Fancy a drink in the pub on the way back, Ronald?”

“OK.” If you insist. I wouldn’t want to be impolite. I don’t say the last bitt out loud. I know what’s good for me.

We have to walk past the Marquis Cornwallis. So that’s where we head. Except all the tables are either occupied or reserved. Bum. We go to the Friend at Hand, instead. Where we can find seats.

Inside the Friend at Hand.

Lots of reserved tables and Christmas parties here, too. Quite a healthy mix of ages. Not all oldie people as, in the Midlands earlier this year.

“What’s a nice Bitter?” Dolores asks.

“They have Landlord. That’s pretty good. I’ll have a pint, too.”

It’s rather nice. So nice, I have another. Dolores goes for the house Bitter. Despite my warnings.\

“How is it?” I ask.

"OK. There’s a funny taste at the end.”

“I did warn you.”

A pint of Timothy Taylor Landlord.

But that’s it. We leave it at that and head back to our hotel. Where we eat sandwiches and drink whisky. Well, I do the latter. Dolores has a can of cider with her sarnies.

Hearing music, we look out of the window. A group of Santas is roller skating by.

“You can’t get much more Christmassy than that, Dolores.”

“I suppose not.”

We watch a bit of TV. But don’t stay up very late. We’re both a bit knacked.

Whisky is my slumber mate.



The Marquis Cornwallis
31 Marchmont St,
London WC1N 1AP.
https://www.themarquiscornwalliswc1.co.uk/


Friend at Hand
2-4 Herbrand St,
London WC1N 1HX.
https://www.greeneking.co.uk/pubs/greater-london/friend-at-hand

 

Let's Brew - 1910 Fullers Brown Stout

And here's the final Fullers beer of this set. And one of the strongest. There was another beer, Single Stout, which was blended from Brown Stout and Porter. Except I can't quite make out the quantities of each.

There’s also been a drop in the gravity of Brown Stout, though it’s relatively much less than in Porter, being 5 degrees.

You can probably guess what I’m going to say next. This was parti-gyled with the Porter above. Leaving me nothing really to say about the recipe. So I won’t even try.

The parti-gyle was about one-third Brown Stout and two-thirds Porter: 98 barrels and 192 barrels. Which is quite a high proportion of Stout, given how strong a beer it was.

The big question is this: was Brown Stout aged? The honest answer being, I’ve no idea. My guess would be that it was semi-stock. That is, aged for a couple of months, but no longer. 

1910 Fullers Brown Stout
pale malt	7.25 lb	53.82%
brown malt	1.25 lb	9.28%
black malt	0.75 lb	5.57%
flaked maize	0.33 lb	2.45%
No. 3 invert	3.50 lb	25.98%
caramel 1000 SRM	0.39 lb	2.90%
Cluster 90 mins	1.25 oz
Goldings 60 mins	1.25 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.25 oz
OG	1070
FG	1020
ABV	6.61
Apparent attenuation	71.43%
IBU	48
SRM	48
Mash at	146º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	59.5º F
Yeast	WLP002 English Ale

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1910 Fullers Porter

I should be in Brazil when you read this. That's if they manage to sort out all the travel arrangements in time.

It’s perhaps a sign of Porter’s decline that it’s lost seven degrees in gravity since 1897. The real apocalypse was just around the corner: WW I. The style never recovered from the effects of the war.

The heart of the grist remains the classic trilogy of pale, brown and black. Though a little over half of the last was added to the copper rather than to the mash tun. Presumably to add more colour.

There were tow types of sugar, both pretty dark. Caramel and something called Special Dark Invert. For which I’ve substituted No. 3 invert. Not sure that the small amount of flaked maize used would have had any noticeable effect on the finished beer.

Four types of hops again. East Kent from the 1908 and 1909 harvests, English from 1908 and Oregon from 1909. 

1910 Fullers Porter
pale malt	5.50 lb	56.41%
brown malt	1.00 lb	10.26%
black malt	0.50 lb	5.13%
flaked maize	0.25 lb	2.56%
No. 3 invert	2.25 lb	23.08%
caramel 1000 SRM	0.25 lb	2.56%
Cluster 90 mins	0.75 oz
Goldings 60 mins	0.75 oz
Goldings 30 mins	0.75 oz
OG	1049
FG	1012
ABV	4.89
Apparent attenuation	75.51%
IBU	33
SRM	37
Mash at	146º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	WLP002 English Ale

Let's Brew - 1910 Fullers Burton Old

Still a few Fullers recipes to polish off for my book "Free!". Though even that will only about half way to the end total. Lots more work to do.

Sometime around 1900, Fullers changed the name of their Strong/Stock Ale from XXK to BO, or Burton Old. Not sure why they did that. Butt they would stick with the new name for several decades.

There are a few significant differences in the recipe. The biggest being the lack of brown malt in this iteration. Instead, there’s a small amount of caramel for colour. There’s also been a small amount of flaked maize added. The majority of the base malt was made from English barley, with around a quarter from Chilean barley.

Other differences? The OG is two degrees lower. And the boil time is 75 minutes longer.

Four types of hops: Mid-Kent from the 1908 and 1909 harvests, English from 1908 and Oregon from 1907.

I’m pretty sure this would have been brewed as a Stock Ale. Being aged for at least six months in trade casks before sale. Possibly as much as a year or more.
 

1910 Fullers Burton Old
pale malt	14.75 lb	87.69%
flaked maize	0.67 lb	3.98%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.33 lb	7.91%
caramel 1000 SRM	0.07 lb	0.42%
Cluster 165 mins	2.00 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	2.00 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	2.00 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1075
FG	1020
ABV	7.28
Apparent attenuation	73.33%
IBU	76
SRM	13
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	165 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	WLP002 English Ale

 

Let's Brew - 1910 Barclay Perkins Export Brown Stout

Barclay Perkins brewed a wide range of Black Beers on the eve of WW I. Mostly, for the domestic market, though there were some intended solely for export.  Like this version of their flagship Brown Stout.

The grist is surprisingly different from the domestic version. Starting with the base, which has no pale malt and is all SA malt. For which I’ve substituted mild malt. SA malt produced a less readily-fermentable wort, which is what you’d want in a beer that would undergo a long secondary conditioning. Probably at least six months.

There’s no crystal malt here. And there’s a bit more amber malt. Oddest is the inclusion of oats. Which seems strange for an Export Stout. Instead of No. 3 invert there’s No. 2. I’m guessing to prevent the colour getting too dark.

As an export beer, the hopping is obviously heavier. It’s 5% higher at 12 lbs per quarter of malt (336 lbs) compared to 8 lbs in the domestic version.

Four types of hops: Hallertau from the 1910 harvest and Sonoma from 1909. Plus East Kent from 1909 and 1910. The latter were also used as dry hops.
 

1910 Barclay Perkins Export Brown Stout
mild malt	8.50 lb	52.31%
brown malt	1.50 lb	9.23%
black malt	1.50 lb	9.23%
amber malt	2.00 lb	12.31%
flaked oats	0.50 lb	3.08%
No. 2 invert sugar	2.25 lb	13.85%
Cluster 150 mins	2.25 oz
Hallertau 90 mins	2.25 oz
Goldings 60 mins	2.25 oz
Goldings 30 mins	2.25 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1076
FG	1018
ABV	7.67
Apparent attenuation	76.32%
IBU	116
SRM	45
Mash at	148º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	59º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1910 Barclay Perkins East India Porter

Here’s just about the end of tradition of brewing Porter especially for the Indian market. East India Porter being the Black Beer equivalent of IPA. The main difference from domestic Porter being heavier hopping. Though, by this point, the gravity was also higher.

As usual, there are loads of coloured malts. Specifically, brown, black and amber. Though there are a few idiosyncrasies about the grist. The oddest is the presence of oats. As this wasn’t parti-gyled with an Oatmeal Stout, the oats must be intended for this beer. Was some of it sold in India as Oatmeal Stout?

Then there’s the sugar. Which, for some reason is No. 2 invert rather than No. 3. Why would that be? Perhaps the colour would be too dark with No. 3 sugar.

Four types of hops this time around. Some foreign ones, too. Namely, Hallertau from the 1910 harvest and Sonoma from 1909. With East Kent from 1909 and 1910. With the latter also used as dry hops. 

1910 Barclay Perkins East India Porter
pale malt	8.00 lb	57.66%
brown malt	1.50 lb	10.81%
black malt	1.25 lb	9.01%
amber malt	0.75 lb	5.41%
flaked oats	0.375 lb	2.70%
No. 2 invert sugar	2.00 lb	14.41%
Cluster 150 mins	1.75 oz
Hallertau 90 mins	1.75 oz
Goldings 60 mins	1.75 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.75 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1064
FG	1012
ABV	6.88
Apparent attenuation	81.25%
IBU	93
SRM	40
Mash at	149º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	59º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

Let's Brew - 1910 Barclay Perkins RD Porter

I’ll be honest wit you: I’ve no idea what the name of this beer was. In the brewing book it’s simply RDP. I’m guessing that the P stood for Porter. I’ve no idea what the other two letters mean.

That’s assuming the P is for Porter. Because, in terms of gravity and recipe, it looks more like a Stout. It’s considerably stronger than Oatmeal Stout and almost as strong as Brown Stout.

At 35%, the percentage of coloured malt is very high. Hence the pretty black colour. Around half of the base malt was SA malt, for which I’ve substituted mild malt.

It’s interesting that in this period that Barclay Perkins used all English hops in their Black Beers. In this case, there were three types: Sussex from the 1907 and 1908 seasons and Mid-Kent from 1909. The last having been cold stored.

1910 Barclay Perkins RD Porter
pale malt	3.50 lb	24.56%
mild malt	3.50 lb	24.56%
brown malt	1.25 lb	8.77%
black malt	1.00 lb	7.02%
amber malt	1.50 lb	10.53%
crystal malt 60 L	1.00 lb	7.02%
No. 3 invert sugar	2.50 lb	17.54%
Fuggles 150 mins	1.75 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.75 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.75 oz
OG	1068
FG	1023
ABV	5.95
Apparent attenuation	66.18%
IBU	59
SRM	41
Mash at	148º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	61º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale