Back to Amsterdam

I lounge in my trollies after dragging my saggy behind out of bed. And watching another glorious crimson sunrise.

Do they do breakfast here? Doesn’t matter. I’ve 2 kilos of doggy bag Vietnamese. I realise how ridiculous the portion size is when I lifted the container. Enough food for a dozen starving teenagers.

I dollop out the best bits onto a plate and give it a spin in the microwave. Still dead yummy.

Handyman very chatty at checkout. Ponytail very like Matt’s, but coloured red.

Matt suggests a spot of lunch on the way to the airport. “What sort of food would you like?”

“Typical American, maybe. Not had any of that yet.”

“That probably means fast food. Burgers, tacos, pizzas. Not necessarily great food.”

“I’m not massively hungry. I finished off that Vietnamese earlier. It’s beer I’m after, really.”

Matt suggests Arbor Brewing’s location in Plymouth, which is on the way. It’s in a modern building on what looks like the town’s main square.

We park behind the brewery. When we walk around the front we realise it isn’t open.

“Thank you, Mr. Google. According to him it opens at noon. Let’s go next door instead.” Which is an Italian restaurant. “it’s owned by the same people and sells Arbor beers.

We sit at the bar, where have a good view of the 20-odd draught beer taps. I opt for an Arbor Buzzsaw IPA. It’s rather pleasant in a straight ahead old-school sort of way.

Matt gets a pizza. I just get a small plate of prosciutto and cheese. It’s light and rather good.

I go for a Bell’s Bourbon Barrel Aged Expedition Stout from 2016. Sticking with my Michigan-brewed theme.

“Expedition Stout isn’t usually barrel aged.” Matt tells me.

“At least it doesn’t taste like it’s had cheap bourbon thrown into. I’m sure that’s what some breweries do.”

“It is.”

We visit the bog before leaving. It’s shared by the brewpub. Giving me a chance to look at the brewing kit. It’s very much like brewing kit the world over: shiny.

On the way to Detroit airport we chat about the Vikings and their influence, the failure of Viking Greenland, the spread of pastoralism, comparative linguistics and lots of other fun stuff. Matt is extremely knowledgeable about history, but knows a stack of other stuff.

After I’ve said goodbye to Matt, I spot there’s a handy kerbside check in.

“Can I check in here?”

“Where are you going, sir?” A friendly woman asks in reply.

“Amsterdam.”

“Yeah, sure you can.”

That was dead easy. Two minutes, not even in the terminal, and I’m done with a big chunk of the annoying airport shit. Just security, the most irritatingist bit, to go.

I park my arse at the bar of Gordon Biersch, close to my gate. And get myself an Oktoberfest. It’s OK. Malty and undemanding. A bit overcarbonated for my taste.

That’s a bit odd. They’re playing Off the Wall. I thought Michael Jackson was relegated to Gary Glitter status?

I’ve moved onto Jim Beam. They’re very liberal here – you can take drinks out to you gate. They don’t usually allow that in the USA.

A couple plonk down to my left. From their phone calls to the relatives babysitting their kids, I learn that they’ve missed a connecting flight and will be stuck in Detroit airport for six hours. Don’t blame them for idling them away at the bar.

The bloke is quite into beer, which gives us something to talk about. Lots to talk about. I bore at international level when it comes to beer.

The flight is pretty uneventful. Especially as I sleep through most of it.

Alexei is pottering around when I get home.

“I heard two bangs last night and thought it was some kids letting off fireworks. Mum told me it was the cash machine around the corner being blown up.”


Arbor Brewing Plymouth Taproom
777 W Ann Arbor Trail,
Plymouth,
MI 48170.
Tel: +1 734-233-6201
https://arborbrewing.com/location/plymouth-taproom/


Bigalora Wood Fired Cucina
777 W Ann Arbor Trail,
Plymouth,
MI 48170.
Tel: +1 734-233-6200
http://bigalora.com/

Pioneer Day

Another fairly low-key start to the day. Matt picks me up at 11:30. Leaving me some time to smooch around my room. Struggling with the coffee machine. Fun things like that.

We had contemplated a dash to Ohio, but sensibly settled on plans which didn’t involve a 3-hour trip each way.

We’re headed to a thing called Pioneer Day at Waterloo Farm Museum. It’s a beautiful sunny. If a little nippy in the wind. Luckily, I now have my coat again.

Matt parks his van and we wander over to the exhibits. People – dressed in historic clothing – are demonstrating all sorts of crafts and trade. Things like butter making, weaving, knitting socks, soap making.

Very interesting. But I'm guessing the kids would prefer the Civil War re-enactors with their muskets.

One of the trades being demonstrated in brewing. The brewer, Mike, is a friend of Matt from the Ann Arbor home brew club. The beer he’s making is a Scandinavian farmhouse ale. Juniper twigs serve as a false bottom in the mash tun, which is a barrel cut in half. The water for the mash is heating in a copper cauldron, suspended over an open wood fire.

“How do you know when the water is hot enough to mash without a thermometer?” I ask.

“You put your hand into it. If you can hold it in there, it’s not hot enough. If you can’t get your hand in, it’s too hot. When you can hold your hand in for a second, then it’s the right temperature.”

“What’s this fruit?” I ask Matt, pointing at all the green balls which, on the drive down, I’d mistaken for apples.

“Walnuts. If you open them up there’s a nut inside.”

It’s quite windy and every now and again one falls from the tree. They’re almost the size and weight of a cricket ball. Definitely don’t want one of those dropping on my head. I start edging away from the tree. I really don’t feel like concussion today.

We stumble into a conversation about the earliest forms of alcohol and how long humans have been making alcohol or making beer. A fucking long time, is the simple answer. Going back so far beyond recorded history. That no-one will ever be able to pin a definitive date on it, but it’s at least 7,000 years ago.

We have a chat with a small group of confederate reenactors. Their uniforms are appropriately crude and inconsistent. I get to hold one of their muskets, which weighs an absolute ton.

The brewing isn’t over when we leave. Though the walnuts seem to be falling with increased frequency. One drops directly into the cauldron, splashing hot water everywhere.

“Which brewery would you like to go to?” Matt asks.

“I’m easy.”

“This road either goes to Dexter or Chelsea. If it’s Dexter, then we can go to Jolly Pumpkin. If not, then there’s the Chelsea Alehouse brewery.”

It turns out the road leads to Chelsea. Which seems to be a well-preserved little town.

It’s a modern, quite modestly-sized, brewpub. We find ourselves seats and take a look at the beer menu. There are only two beers of their own.

“They used to be a production down by the river. Then they moved up here and got a brewpub licence. That means they can sell other breweries’ beers and get a liquor licence.”

I order a house Belgian Strong Golden. I pass on the Raspberry Lime Gose. The Strong Golden is, err, strong and pretty tasty.

“What about some food?”

I think I have room for some. I get two pork belly tacos.

After some searching, I find another reasonably normal beer on the menu: Original Gravity Porter.

One of Matt’s regulars from his own taproom wanders over.

“What do you think of Brexit?” he asks. Thankfully he’s the first on this trip. So I give him an honest reply:

“I try my best not to think about it. That’s why I drink so much beer. To block it out. If things don’t improve, I may have to step up to heroin.”

We move on after two beers. To the Session Room, one of the few outlets for Matt’s beers outside Brighton. It’s a big single room, in what looks like an old light industrial building.

We sit next at the bar, next to the beer buyer. Matt knows him well, obviously. As this is one of the selected outlets that stock his beer. We somehow get onto the topic of fruit. The various types of it. A local brewer has 20 Schaerbeekse Kriek trees. I’m dead envious. I had just one, and that died.

Alcopop-like beers come up, too. Though I’m not going to bore you with that discussion. And a weird cult in his home town. Some weird shit about Atlantis, Mount Rainier and dome houses. Ramtha's School of Enlightenment, it’s called.

“At least they’re harmless.”

“For now.” Matt observes.

I play it safe with my beer choice and get a Bell’s Two Hearted. Can’t go wrong with that. And it’s from Michigan. I’m trying to drink local beers when I can. It doesn’t disappoint. And has no weird shit in it. There are plenty of beers on the list that do.

For the second beer, I go for a Shorts A Tribe called Zest.

“I’m surprised you ordered that.” Matt remarks. “What t with all the different kinds of zest in it.”

I didn’t read the description properly. Though the “Zest” in the name was a clue. It’s better than I Feared. And no more citrussy than many non-zested beers. It definitely doesn’t drink it’s 9.9% ABV.

“Anything in particular you’d like to eat?” Matt asks. We’ve already had Japanese.

“What about Vietnamese?”

“I’ve never had that.”

“Let’s go with that, then.”

Matt looks for nearby Vietnamese places. But it’s closing in on 8 PM and most are about to close. There is one that’s open until 9. On the road to Ypsilanti. I remember seeing it yesterday.

There are still a few tables occupied, but it’s obvious that they’re running down towards closing. It being his first time, Matt sensibly plumps for Pho. Which is what all the other customers seem to be eating. Just to be different, I choose stir-fried seafood on a bed of crispy noodles.

In the evening we ate Vietnamese food that was really good. Though Matt says the bogs are pretty grim. Luckily I didn’t need a wazz while there.

Back at the hotel, I ask what time checkout is.

"I love your accent." The woman says.

Not heard that for a while. Not sure how to react. “Thank you.” “I’ve lived here 50 years, but can’t lose it.” “That’s not what my wife says.” “Would you like to have sex with me?”

I just smile. Can almost never go wrong with a smile.

Once again, whisky is my night-time chum.


Waterloo Farm Museum
9998 Waterloo Munith Rd.,
Grass Lake,
MI 49240.
Tel: 517-596-2254
http://waterloofarmmuseum.org


Chelsea Alehouse Brewery
115 S Main St,
Chelsea,
MI 48118.
Tel: +1 734-475-2337
https://www.chelseaalehouse.com/


The Session Room
3685 Jackson Rd,
Ann Arbor,
MI 48103.
Tel: +1 734-585-7300
https://www.sessionrooma2.com/


Pho House
2224 Washtenaw Ave,
Ypsilanti,
MI 48197.
Tel: +1 734-961-8253

Talk, talk in Ypsilanti

Quite an early start today. Matt picks me up at 8:30. My first talk at Eastern Michigan University is at 10:30 and we need to set up before that.

“It was nice and clean until I went down that dirt road yesterday.” Matt remarks as we approach his truck. It is looking a bit scruffy, with dried dirt all along the bottom half.

“Ypsilanti is one of the most diverse cities in the US.” Matt explains as we enter the town. “This street is full of little ethnic restaurants, Mom and Pop places.”

There certainly seems to be a good range of Asian and European cuisines strung out along either side of the road.

We’ll be in a different building this year. Not a ballroom, but a proper lecture theatre. All newly renovated and rather snazzy. Cory Emal, coordinator of EMU’s Fermentation Sciences program, meets us inside. He’s also coordinating today’s events.

While they’re setting up the food for the interval between talks in the foyer, Cory sets up the technical aspects. Like getting the projector working and miking me up. It doesn’t take a huge amount of time as, thankfully, there aren’t any big problems.

Quite a few people I recognise from my time here in spring 2018, Including Jeff Renner, whom I’ve now met several times.

I kick off with my talk on German sour beer styles. Just a week ago I gave the same talk in Dublin. Well, almost the same talk. I made a few updates earlier this week. Adding a couple more slides about Berliner Weisse and including pH values to all the tables.

In the interval I eat some soup then am led up to the fermentation department proper. Where there are four beers brewed from historical recipes of mine: Matt’s 1857 Barclay Perkins X Ale, 1939 Wm. Younger DBS Btlg, 1956 Shepherd Neame MB and 1950 Adnams DS. The latter three being Student-brewed beers.

They’re all pretty good, but the 1939 Wm. Younger DBS Btlg is particularly nice. In an odd coincidence, I wrote a recipe for this beer a week or so ago.

“What about students who are under 21? Are they allowed to drink the beer that they’ve brewed?”

“Yes, but only in a class.” Cory replies.

“That’s weird.” US drinking laws are totally insane.

“Would you like a pint for while you’re giving your next talk?” Cory asks. I think you can guess what my reply was.

With a pint of 1857 Barclay Perkins X Ale in hand, I plunge into talk number two: Brettanomyces in British brewing. I also made some changes to this earlier in the week. In the section on Harvey’s Imperial Stout I had incorrectly assumed the presence of Brettanomyces. When, in fact, secondary conditioning is by means of Debaromyces, which lurks in Harvey’s pitching yeast.

Yacking done, it’s time to shift some books. Dolores will be pleased with the results. Fewer books clogging up the house, replaced by space-efficient cash.

After the talks, we head to Ypsi Alehouse. For a few beers. Where we find other brewers. Can you guess what they’re doing? Drinking overpriced bottled water and discussing the stock market. Of course not.

The Alehouse is in a fine old building, which was originally a hotel. According to Matt it has three levels of cellars.

What to drink first? It is October, so I start with a house-brewed Oktoberfest. It’s the amber colour I’d expect from a US version and satisfyingly malty. That’ll do nicely.

The chat spins around brewers past and present, the financial perils of the industry and, inevitably, sludge beers. I’m struggling to think of a single professional brewer I’ve spoken with any enthusiasm for that type of beer.

 My next beer is also a house one, Mooneye American IPA. What’s the point of being in a brewpub if you’re not going to drink its beer? It’s a straightforward IPA. The sort of beer which used to be everywhere. Now I feel almost nostalgic drinking this style.

When evening rolls around, Matt drives us to his brewery. We sit in the beer garden at first, but it's a little too chilly. Especially as I don’t have a coat. We head inside.

“Where would you like to eat?” Matt asks over a pint, “There are lots of options.”

He reels off various ethnic cuisines. Not feeling in the mood for a big pile, I opt for tapas. Picking at little bits of food every now and again disturbs my drinking less than filling my hole with a gut-busting quantity of meat and carbs. Have leave some room for ale.

We go back to his house to pick up his wife and daughter, who will be joining us. I wait in the truck as he ventures inside. He warned me that he has a very large and overfriendly dog.

“An hour, at least.” They say when we troll up at the tapas place. Sort of rules that out. Matt’s daughter doesn’t look that upset. I soon learn why: our plan B is Blue Nile, one of her favourite restaurants, which is just over the road.

I understand why. Once the food arrives. As you’d expect, in piles on those spongy pancake things. Mostly vegetarian, but with a few bits of chicken. Pretty damn tasty. And ticklingly spicy. Yum.

There’s lots of good beer around in Ann Arbor. Here they have draught Bell’s Oberon, a wheat beer with an orangey flavour. Something suitably wet, and not too extreme, to wash the nosh down.

After Matt has dropped me back off at my hotel I drop onto my bed. A bit knacked, if I’m honest. Two talks almost back to back was quite draining. It’s not too late, thankfully. Time to turn to TV. Of the least demanding type.

Speybourn is on hand to guide me to my dreams.



Ypsi Alehouse
124 Pearl St #100,
Ypsilanti,
MI 48197.
Tel: +1 734-487-1555
https://ypsialehouse.com/


Blue Nile Restaurant
221 E Washington St,
Ann Arbor,
MI 48104.
Tel: +1 734-998-4746
http://www.bluenilemi.com/

Barclay Perkins X Ale crawl

I’ve a slow and easy start to the day. Matt arranged to pick me up at 3 PM. I fill the time until then watching some crap TV, while sipping on my hotel whisky. And finishing off the leftover sushi from yesterday.

My room has a decent kitchen. The fridge is bigger than the one at home. Microwave and dishwasher, too. The coffee machine, I’m struggling with. Pretty sure I’m not using it the right way. But I manage to get something resembling coffee out of it. Which sums up much American coffee.

Matt whisks me off to Ann Arbor. A town I’ve visited a surprising number of times. We’re doing a Barclay Perkins X Ale crawl. Never thought I’d be able to say that. Around breweries in Ann Arbor. Through Matt, I supplied local brewers with four X Ale recipes of various vintages.

I like Ann Arbor. A typical old-school, small(-ish) American town. Some recent developments may have reduced its character, but it remains pretty cool. And there are several breweries within easy walking distance. Even for an old twat like me.

After parking up Matt’s truck, we head to Grizzly Peak, where the brewer, Duncan Williams, is waiting for us. It has quite a pub-like feel, with a long bar and lots of wood. So it’s no surprise that the X Ale here is handpulled.

It’s the 1880 version and is a fairly modest 6% ABV or so. As you’d expect of a Mild of the period, it’s pale in colour and fairly heavily hopped. My brewing software spat out just over 100 IBUs. In practice, it’s probably not as high as that. But it’s still way more Bitter than people expect of a Mild nowadays.

Patrick Meehan, head brewer of Blue Tractor also drops by to share in the fun. We’re gradually building up quite a little gang.

Our next stop, Arbor Brewing, is just a short walk away. Chris Davies, the head brewer, joins us for a pint and a chat.  This X Ale, from 1838, is the strongest of the bunch, weighing in at around 8% ABV. Served by gravity from a cask on the bar, it has a fine, deep copper colour. It’s pretty hoppy, too. It also came out to around 100 IBUs, according to my brewing software.

The pub has a more contemporary vibe than Grizzly Peak, though it does have a fine copper bar top. We don’t linger too long as we’ve another X Ale to try. At the last stop on this crawl, Blue Tractor.

It’s even more modern-looking than Arbor Brewing, with lots of stainless steel and exposed ducts. Isn’t that all a bit 1990s? Lots of photos of old tractors, mind. Which is quite retro.

This X Ale is from 1914. And served on handpump, the way god intended Mild to be served. Though the weakest of the set, at just about 5% ABV, it’s also the darkest, with a colour closer to what’s expected today of a Mild. It’s pretty tasty, as have been all the versions.

It’s now well after 6 PM and our crawl is coming to an end. Not that it’s going to be the end of drinking for the day. God forbid a nightmare like that. The home brew club Matt’s a member of – Ann Arbor Brewers Guild – is having a meeting tonight which we’ll be attending.

The location is Bob Scholl’s house, which is on the outskirts of Saline, a small town about 15 km due south of Ann Arbor. The house turns out to be out in woods, down a dirt road. It reminds me of the cabin I stayed in outside Ashville earlier this year.

The meeting is being held in the basement. One ample enough to house the 30 or so attendees without looking vaguely overstuffed.

“Let me take your coat.” Someone asks as I enter. Fine by me. Saves me carrying it around or leaving it on a chair and forgetting it.

There’s a buffet and, obviously, a whole load of home brewed beer. I get stuck into both immediately.

The basement also houses Bob’s collection of vintage jukeboxes, some going back as far as the 1940s. Very colourful, they are. It includes one that plays the records in a vertical position.

“They used to have a similar one in The Whip, a pub I drank in in Leeds.” I remark to Bob. “It was where all the old Teds hung out. Weird place. Someone once randomly threatened to kick the shit out of me while I was having a piss in the bogs.”

The evening whips past in chatter and beer. The club members are a friendly bunch and I’ve no shortage of conversation partners. Quite a few I already know.

Halfway through winding back to Brighton, I notice that I don’t have my coat. Bum. Too late to turn back now.

My old friend whisky is there to warm me back in my room. Before taking my hand and leading me off to slumber.


Grizzly Peak Brewing Co.
120 W Washington St,
Ann Arbor,
MI 48104.
Tel: +1 734-741-7325
https://www.grizzlypeak.net/


Arbor Brewing Company Brewpub
114 E Washington St,
Ann Arbor,
MI 48104.
Tel: +1 734-213-1393
https://arborbrewing.com/


Blue Tractor BBQ & Brewery
207 E Washington St,
Ann Arbor,
MI 48104.
Tel: +1 734-222-4095
http://www.bluetractor.net


Ann Arbor Brewers Guild
https://aabg.org/

Detroit here I come

The 397 bus still isn’t taking its usual route. Meaning I have to start my journey with a 62, rather than a 15, bus. The 62 isn’t as frequent so I check when one is due.

I only have to wait a couple of minutes before it turns up. Just 2 stops I’m taking it for. To Olympic Stadium where I’m changing. The 397 arrives just about immediately. This is going well.

It’s less than a week since I was last in Schiphol. My routine remains much the same as usual. I grab a sandwich from the Albert Heijn landside. Much cheaper than anything airside.

I breeze through bag drop-off, as I should with my pushing-in boarding.

Once through security and passport control, I head to the nearest duty-free shop. Where I pick up a bottle of Speybourn whisky, remembering to use the 5 euro voucher Dolores found for me. The discount means it’s under 30 euros. Not an Islay whisky, which is my preference, but good enough. And way cheaper.

Despite having to walk right past it, I don’t drop by the Irish pub. I’m trying to economise this time. Dolores has made her opinion very clear about my expenses when travelling. I promised her this would be a cheap trip.

Instead I sit dutifully at my gate reading Private Eye while I wait for boarding time to roll around. I’m such a good boy.

Sitting on the plane, I’m playing Slade songs in my head. Such an underrated band.

We’re about to leave the gate. The woman sitting next to me gets up and moves to sit next to her friend. Now I have two seats to myself. Win.

We’re all loaded up, but can’t leave the gate for another 25 minutes. Wonderful.

A 16-year-old girl over the aisle is doing her homework. I’m trying hard not to tell her to put the light on. “You’re going to ruin your eyes like that.” I’m starting to think and talk like my mum.

I pass the flight with a few light films. As usual. Time doesn’t drag too much.

Matt Becker, of Brewery Becker, is waiting for me at the airport. He’s the one who has invited me over. During the 40 minutes it takes him to drive us to Brighton, we chat away about various historical topics. Like me Matt is a big history geek. It gives us lots to talk about.

After dropping off my junk at my hotel, we head to his brewery. For a few beers, obviously. I kick off with the 1857 Barclay Perkins Mild he brewed to a recipe of mine. It’s lovely stuff, with a deep fruitiness. And deceptively drinkable considering itself. Dangerously drinkable, even.

Matt’s taproom is as beautiful as ever. I’m amazed at the amount of time and work he put into getting it to look like this. There’s a pub sort of vibe, as well. An intangible thing. The combination of the two is why it works so well.

“What would you like to eat?” Matt asks.

“I’m easy. What are the options?”

Matt lists off several types of ethnic foods which are available locally.

“Japanese. That’ll do.”

It’s not far. Just a few hundred metres along Main Street. Pretty sure we ate here last time I was over around 18 months ago.

I get a combination dish, which includes both sushi and gyoza. Yummy stuff, but I can't manage it all. I have the leftovers packaged up to take away. I can finish it off for breakfast tomorrow.

After eating, I’m starting to fade. Which is good. Means I’ll get a good kip and hopefully switch my body clock to this time zone.

A nightcap of whisky helps bring on the cavalry charge of sleep.



Brewery Becker
500 W Main St,
Brighton,
MI 48116.
https://brewerybecker.com


Sushi Zen
114 W Grand River Ave,
Brighton,
MI 48116.
https://www.sushizenusa.com/

Michigan day two

Matt is picking me up at 9:30. I rise at 8:30, to allow time for brekkie.

No bacon, unfortunately. Just omelette, potatoes and a dodgy looking round sausage. At least it's served on a real plate with metal cutlery. I hate this disposable shit. I'm just finishing up when Matt arrives. Our plan is to hit several Ann Arbor breweries.

We start at his place, Brewery Becker. Now it's empty, I can appreciate all the attention to detail. It really is beautiful. What I thought was wallpaper has been hand painted onto the walls. A magnificent cast-iron staircase leads to the first floor.

“Is that original?”

“No I got it made, based on a staircase from the right period.”

That must have coast a bob or two. Especially as there’s a second one going up to the top floor.

The light fittings and light bulbs are also to ancient designs. When Matt tells me his wife is an interior designer, I’m not surprised. It shows. One of the best tap rooms I’ve visited. Most are just a corner of the brewhouse with a few tables and chairs and a bar.

A freight train passes and I realise how close we are to the railway line. The train is appears to be dissecting the beer garden. This was the old station hotel, though. Logical that it would be close to the tracks.

Luke is accompanying us on our brewery tour. After he shows up we head off down the motorway.

I’ve been to Ann Arbor before, funnily enough. About 15 years ago when I was in Detroit for work. I managed to persuade the two work colleagues to drive out to Arbor Brewing for dinner. I remember being impressed by the beer, especially a cask IPA. My colleagues were impressed that I gave that much of a shit about beer.

As we approach town. it looks more big city than I remember. I recall a pretty university town of two and three storey buildings. What’s in front of me looks quite different. I mention this to Matt.

“There’s been a lot of construction in the last ten years. Mostly taller buildings.”

That explains it. The town is awash with tech and biotech money, evidently. Quite a contrast with Detroit.

Matt parks in a subterranean carpark and we head over on foot to our first stop: Grizzly Peak. It’s not a long walk. Annoying as ever, I snap all the buildings on the way that I think look pretty. I’m such an architecture whore.

We’re met inside by Duncan, brewer here. He’s soon pulling us pints of Sheerwater – billed as a Burton IPA – through a beer engine. It’s softly carbonated, as cask beer should be, and eminently drinkable. My type of beer.

As soon as we’ve beer in our hands, he takes us on a quick tour of the brewery. The brewing kettles are on the ground floor, visible from the street, but most of the equipment is hidden away in the bowels of the building, in a maze of small rooms.

There are some closed Grundy tanks – they’re very common around this way – but also open rounds and squares. I’m pleasantly surprised to see that the open squares are fitted with attemperators. Something I don’t think I’ve seen before in the US.

It’s an unusual setup, very unlike the rows of shiny conicals you find in most modern breweries. 

Pat brewer at Blue tractor – a later stop on our tour – joins us. He’s a quiet, bearded fellow of Irish descent. I don’t know why I mention the beard. Everyone here has a beard. Matt, Luke, Duncan, the barmaid. No, not the last one. Pretty much everyone else, mind.

Arbor Brewing, our next stop, is a short walk. As I walk in, it doesn’t look familiar. Turns out it’s recently been refurbished. Could just be my crap memory. Yesterday’s tea is often an impossible struggle to recall. Though it is weirdly good when it comes to average OG during WW I.

Chris, brewer here, greets us. “What would you like to drink, gentlemen?”

The two handpulls attract my attention. Forgotten Knight and Sacred Cow are the two options. My choice is made when I see the description of the former: Chevallier Bitter. How much of that stuff are they growing now? I keep coming across beers that use it. The beer itself is a beautiful golden colour and crystal clear.

Once we’re beered up, Chris takes us on a tour. And yes, he has a beard, too.

It’s a more conventional setup, with a modestly-sized brewhouse and seven barrel capacity conical fermenters. As every other brewery in the whole world, they’ve some oak barrels filled with ageing beer. Some are in a weird room that extends under the pavement. Where there are also champagne bottles of a Belgian-style Brown maturing.

After a second beer, it’s time to leg it to our final brewery, Blue Tractor. Not a particularly long walk. All the breweries are in the compact downtown area.

Blue Tractor’s interior is much more modern than the first two stops. It’s all exposed brickwork and industrial ducting, with a shiny metal bar counter.

I plump for a Ballyfarnon Stout, pulled through a lonely-looking solitary beer engine. Wow. Three breweries, three different cask beers. It’s almost like being back in the UK. I’m on my second beer – Double Crop IPA, if you’re interested – when we get a tour of the kit.

The brewhouse looks a bit Heath Robinson, with lots of pipes and hoses. There are more open fermenters, along with the inevitable Grundy tanks. I wonder how many of them there are in this town? Some of the Grundies here are showing their age, their white paint almost completely chipped away in places.

Before heading over to Eastern Michigan University, we stop for tacos at Chela’s, a small Mexican place. My attention is drawn by what looks like an educational poster. Especially one panel, El Borracho, portraying a stumbling drunk in ragged trousers. That's me, that is.

We’re due at EMU at 15:00 to set up everything for this evening. I’ll be giving my 18th-century English brewing talk. We’re running a little late, but still have plenty of time before the 17:30 kick off.

The university is in Ypsilanti, a sort of satellite town of Ann Arbor. We head down a road pointing at a rather phallic water tower. Which turns out to be right next to EMU.

We roll up to EMU at 14:30. Cory, who heads the fermentation science programme here, greets us as we arrive.

Matt and Luke have great fun manoeuvring the beer cooler inside. It looks dead cool – like a Viking ship – but it’s pretty bulky and heavy. He’ll be serving his beers from it: Entire Butt and William Younger S1. The latter is a weird Stout from the late 1800’s with a very high FG. I was surprised Matt managed to pretty well hit it. Brewers quite often wildly overshoot the gravity when making poorly-attenuated historic beers.

I’m talking in the McKenny Hall Ballroom. Which, as the names implies, is quite large. The 160 seats don’t even half fill it. But it’s a nice setup, with a proper dais and two screens. A mike and a controller/pointer that I struggle to master.

Plenty of time before I go on. So I get stuck into a few of the snacks provided before we kick off. Cheese. Cheesy biscuits. You may detect a theme here.

The talk is one of my longer ones. A few minutes in, I realise it could do with some editing.  I rattle through it in just over an hour. Get a few laughs, then retire behind my books hoping for sales. Which go pretty well. I shift both the copies of Porter! that I’ve brought over and a few each of Let’s Brew! and the Home Brewer’s Guide to Vintage Beer.

There are a few attendees that I already know. Like Jeff Renner, for example, who sometimes comments on my blog. Mostly to complain about tables.

At 20:00 we wrap everything up. But notice that someone has left their jacket. In a pocket are invoices for the Ypsi Alehouse. It turns out that it belongs to Ted, one of the owners there.

“He’s always forgetting things.” I’m told. Sounds like me.

Luckily the Ypsi Alehouse is where we’re headed. It isn’t far. Music is being performed when we arrive: it’a open mike night.

What to drink? I opt for a Kentucky Common. And I pulled pork sarnie. Then an IPA, just for variety.

Matt and I are invited to take a look at the brewery. We have to pass through the kitchen to enter. It’s pretty small and rather cramped. With shiny new conicals rather than battered old Grundies.

Poor Matt is pretty knacked, only having had 2 hours sleep last night. We leave at 10:30.

I go straight to bed and am soon held in sleep’s firm, but gentle, grip.


These are the books I was flogging:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/ronald-pattinson/lets-brew/paperback/product-23289812.html

And this:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/ronald-pattinson/lager-uk/paperback/product-20963629.html
You can see my talk – if you can stand listening to me drone on for an hour – here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1-6D1sVywI

Grizzly Peak Brewing
120 W Washington St,
Ann Arbor, MI 48104.
Tel: +1 734-741-7325
http://grizzlypeak.net


Arbor Brewing Company
114 E Washington St,
Ann Arbor, MI 48104.
Tel: +1 734-213-1393
https://arborbrewing.com/


Blue Tractor
207 E Washington St,
Ann Arbor, MI 48104.
Tel: +1 734-222-4095
http://www.bluetractor.net


Chela’s
307 S Fifth Ave,
Ann Arbor, MI 48104.
Tel: (734) 780-7078
https://chelasannarbor.com


Ypsi Alehouse
124 Pearl St #100,
Ypsilanti, MI 48197.
Tel: +1 734-487-1555
http://ypsialehouse.com

Michigan day one

I rise at 8 and switch on my flippy-flop. I notice the Windows Updater is running, so I switch it off. But a couple of minutes later I get the Update starting to be installed message. Bum. I go into Task Manager and kill the task. That seems to work. Stupid fucking windows.

I can't smell bacon when I get out of the lift. Not a good sign. It's just that stupid, rubberlike ham. And scrambled egg. It's OK, but nothing like as good as yesterday.

I'm in no rush. My flight is at 13:45. Time to watch some TV in my underwear. I am on holiday, after all. And have a shower and a shave. I try to keep myself clean.

I check out and bounce down the highway to the airport. I need to pick up my boarding pass. I checked in online, but wasn't able to print my boarding document. The stupid machine doesn't recognise my PNR number and tells me I have to go to a counter. I've a bag to check, so I'm not that worried. And I also have Sky Priority so I can go to the push in queue. It doesn't take long.

I remember one thing about St. Louis airport: there's an AB pub airside. I squeeze into the only empty seat at the bar.

"A double jack Daniels, no ice, please. And can I see a menu."

When my drink arrives, I order a barbecue flatbread.

A suited man to my left is looking rather agitated. He says to another man seated at the bar.

"Where the hell is my sandwich? That woman arrived after me and already has her food. All I ordered was a sandwich."

From the way he keeps looking at his watch, it's obvious it's getting close to his flight's boarding time. Maybe I shouldn't have ordered that food. On the other hand, I've 45 minutes.

A few minutes later the man's sandwich arrives and he wolfs it down. He doesn't look very happy. I don't think he'll be leaving much of a tip. My sandwich arrives before he's finished. It's not the easiest thing to eat. I go with the knife and fork option. So many mess options when eating from your hands.

I don't want to look scruffy, because . . .

I went crazy when I checked in yesterday and upgraded to first class. It only cost $79. Which gets me a checked in bag, and free drinks on the plane. And gets me on before all the plebs. A little luxury in a while doesn't hurt.

This is great. I've a bourbon in my hand before we even take off. A few more follow during the flight. Which is as eventful as a bus trip to the library. On a Tuesday morning. In November. Late November. When the sky is leaden low.

I'm meeting Matt Becker, my host in Michigan, at bag collection. He greets me as I walk through to landside.

"You must be Ron" he says. I used to make sure there were no photos of me on the web. Call it one of my Stalinist traits. But that cat crawled out of the bag and was sick on the carpet years ago. Too late to fight it now. Or to get that cat vomit out of the carpet. It is handy when being collected at an airport.

We chat away about history and beery stuff as we drive to my hotel. I'm staying in Brighton, which is also home to Brewery Becker, Matt's place. I drop my bags and we're on our way there in a jiffy.

"It's in a former hotel, built in 1871 and opened in 1873. It took me four years to renovate." Matt tells me.

The more he describes the work involved, the more my admiration for his determination grows. I'm pretty sure I would have given up in despair. Way before four years in. Doubt I'd have done two. Who am I kidding? I'd have been off after the first week. DIY really isn't my thing.

The brewery is a lovely red brick affair, with a new yellow brick extension that fits in really well. The interior is fitted out in period fashion. This is clearly a labour of love. Four year's worth.

His beers are mostly traditional or historically inspired. Soon I've one of them in my hand. A 1905 Amsdell IPA. I think I know where that recipe came from.

We have a quick twirl aroung the brewery. I spot something. Like a row of sad, ageing cybermen, who've really gone to seed since retirement: three Grundy tanks in a row.

Matt notices where my gaze has fallen. "There are loads of them over here. Due to Peter Austin." He tells me. Weird how vessels designed for crap UK tank beer ended up starting a good beer revolution on the other side of the Atlantc.

Luke, who works at the brewery, arrives and shares a beer with us. Mine is something described as an 1880's XXK. Vague about the date, because it isn't based on a single recipe.

"Do you have any preferences for food?" Matt asks, when our drinks are nearly drunk. "There's pizza, or Americana - steaks and stuff - or Japanese."

"Japanese sounds good."

Sushi Zen is just a few minutes away. On the way there, Matt explains that the car industry has brought many Japanese expats to the region.

I'm not enormously hungry and opt for a soft-shell crab starter and a couple of pieces of sushi. Plus some warm sake. It really hits the spot. Food and sake. But especially the sake.

Eating done, we're off to our next destination: Witch's Hat. It's a bit of a drive. Some light beer chatter fills the time admirably. Odd how easy it is to find conversation topics with fellow obsessives.

On my travels, I meet a lot of people. (That's why you should be understanding if I don't remember you. I struggle to pick my kids out in a crowd. No way I'll recall everyone. Though if you slip me a 50 euro note, my memory improves inexplicably.) Some, I spend considerable time with. Whole days. Longer than I spend in the company of my own family, most weeks. Unless you count hours spent sleeping in the same house.

Witch's Hat is rather different from Matt's brewery: modern and loud. The beers are very different, too. You could describe them as modern and loud, too.

"We're like bookends." Matt tells me. "My beers are very straightforward and traditional, while Witch's Hat's are more modern and experimental." He could have said: full of weird stuff. I look for a beer that doesn't have an "unusual" ingredient. There's a pale coffee beer and one with oysters and lobster. Think I'll pass on those.

After a few beers we head back to Matt's brewery, where the staff are just closing up. Me, Matt and Luke have a few more beers and chat away. It's 1 AM by the time we're done.

I'm feeling totally kancked when I fall into my bed. I need to get up early-ish. Matt is picking me up at 9:30.

Get over here, sleep. I've got plans for tomorrow. Behave, for once.



Brewery Becker
500 W Main St,
Brighton, MI 48116.
Tel: +1 810-844-0225
http://brewerybecker.com


Sushi Zen
14 W Grand River Ave,
Brighton, MI 48116.
Tel: +1 810-225-3330
http://sushizenusa.com/


Witch's Hat Brewing Company
601 S Lafayette St,
South Lyon, MI 48178.
Tel: +1 248-486-2595
https://www.witchshatbrewing.com/