Let's Brew Wednesday - 1904 Tetley X Pale

Tetley’s Mild. What more wonderful beer is there than that? Admittedly, this one is a little before my time But It’s still Tetley’s. What’s even better is that this particular example was brewed on my birthday.

If this is looking a bit feeble for a pre-WW I Mild, don’t worry. This was Tetley’s entry level Mild. There’s a whole raft of stronger siblings waiting at the edge of the lake.

Uncomplicated is the word I most use to describe old recipes like this. OK, there were three different types of base malt. I would tell you where the barley came from. Except the descriptions are total rubbish. No idea. My guess would be at least one type was foreign.

The hops aren’t much more interesting. A 50-50 split between Worcester and Kent. Nothing more to say. 

1904 Tetley X Pale
pale malt	2.50 lb	30.25%
mild malt	4.50 lb	54.45%
No. 3 invert sugar	1.25 lb	15.13%
Caramel 1000 SRM	0.014 lb	0.17%
Fuggles 120 mins	1.00 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.00 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.25 oz
OG	1040
FG	1010
ABV	3.97
Apparent attenuation	75.00%
IBU	26
SRM	11
Mash at	147º F
Sparge at	165º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1469 West Yorkshire Ale Timothy Taylor

Any suggestions

 for places I can visit next year. Invitations I mean, really. Anyone want to invite me somewhere I've not been before?

I'm in my mid sixties. Who knows how long my legs will hold out. Best book me up while I'm still reasonably mobile. And compos mentis. Those years of boozing are bound to have taken their toll. 

Given the decades that it's taken to accumulate my encyclopedic knowledge of beer history, my rates for talks are dead reasonable. Likewise collaboration beers. Honest Ron will always give you a good deal.

Get in touch if you'd like to host me.

Home Brewer's Guide to Vintage Beer for sale again

I finally got my hands on the books I ordered a couple of months ago. After paying over 50 euros in charges.

If you fancy a signed copy, I'd hurry up and order. Who know when I'll be able to get more copies.

Click one of the buttons below to order. I may have to put up the postage for non-EU Europe. I say may, I mean I will. Hurry if you want the current rate.

 

Buy a signed paperback edition of the Homebrewer's Guide to Vintage Beer. For locations inside Europe.

Buy a signed paperback edition of the Homebrewer's Guide to Vintage Beer. For the USA, Canada, Australia and other locations outside Europe.

Chicago Tuesday

Derek is being the perfect flatmate again. When I emerge from the bathroom, tea is on the go. Just what I need to kick off the day.

Derek rustles up bacon sandwiches again. And porridge with mixed fruit. This is so much better than staying in a hotel. We need some ballast, as another busy day is planned.

Which wasn’t the original schedule. We were supposed to be free until the evening. But plans can change.

Yesterday, Matt and Luke suggested meeting up at Off Color at noon. Why not? It sounds like an interesting brewery that I haven’t visited before.

Luke entered his number on my phone so I could message him. But I can’t get it to work. Eventually Derek manages to send off a message. 12:30 is now the time.

They're sitting in the bar when we arrive. It’s pretty empty. Other than the four of us. It is a weekday lunchtime. And this isn’t exactly a city centre location. There’s a massive building site opposite.

What to drink? There’s quite a lot of mixed fermentation stuff. Probably not a good idea to drink anything acidic, given the state of my guts. So, I plump for Beer for Burgers. A 7.1% ABV bourbon barrel-aged Lager.

It could easily be a disaster. Luckily, the bourbon flavour isn’t too over the top. Quite restrained. Rather tasty.

Matt and Luke are a good laugh. I always enjoy their company. But we don’t have long this session. Just time for one more beer. This time it’s Waddle, a Märzen. Pleasant enough, if a little too buttery for my taste.

But we need to rush off. We have a date with John Hannafan at the Siebel Institute.

He starts by talking a little about the history of the institute. Which is quite long, having been founded in 1872. A very neat 150 years ago.

Derek has many questions when John shows us their brewing kit. Most of which I don’t fully understand. Or understand at all, to be honest. Every now and again, it’s useful to be reminded of just how incomplete my knowledge of brewing is. Especially the technical side.

There’s a very international group taking a class. Which looks far too technical for me.

John mentioned earlier that we’re close to Greek Town. Could be a good place to eat. And perhaps our last chance for a proper meal today. He recommends Athena, which is just around the corner.
Athena has lots of outdoor and semi-outdoor seating. We choose the former, as it’s a lovely sunny day.

The beer list is crap. Cocktail time for me. A margarita. Derek doggedly opts for the least bad beer choice: Mythos. Mmm. Why is my margarita pink? Who cares? It tastes fine.

It’s time for some healthy eating. Dips and pita bread to start. Followed by seafood and a Greek salad. Very good. My portion of calamari – supposedly a starter – is enormous.

No time to return to the flat. It’s straight to the Goose Island Taproom to prepare for tonight’s event. And this was supposed to be a rest day. It’s just after 5 PM. Doors open at 6 PM.

There’s time to chat a little. Working out the, very loose, structure. Roger will be compere. Mike will do introductions. While me and Derek will . . . what exactly? Talking. OK. I’m quite good at that.

Beer time, now that’s sorted. An Obadiah Poundage on draught to start. I’ll never see that again. Still tasting pretty good.

Then the serious business. Well, semi-serious, for me. The Stock and Runner versions of the Barley Wine are available. I’d so hoped for this. Mike did the same with Obadiah Poundage. A chance to compare the sum and its component parts.

The Stock is really full on. Quite extreme. No oak (as intended) but quite a lot of Brettanomyces character. A bit too much of everything. Runner is fruity and, for the gravity, surprisingly light. But without any great depth of flavour.

The sum? Definitely better than the parts. The third of Stock Ale added way more complexity to the Runner, without compromising the latter’s drinkability. It explains exactly why this practice was common. It produced a beer which it wasn’t possible to make individually.

I came to exactly the same conclusion with Obadiah Poundage.

There’s a fairly good turnout. Around 50. Including Greg and John Hall, from the early days of Goose Island.

The talking stuff goes well. Other than the mike playing up. And there are plenty of questions. Sensible ones.

“Does anyone still blend in the UK?”

“Other than Greene King, I don’t think so”

Which is a shame. Why hasn’t anyone picked up this technique?

Just as well we ate earlier. We stay until 9 PM chatting with various people. And drinking draught Black Eagle while I can. The Black Eagle won’t be flying anywhere, being only available in the taproom.

Mike gives us a lift the short distance back to the flat. I’m very pleased not to have to walk. After standing up for large parts of the day my legs are killing me.

A tot of Heaven Hill eases the pain.




Off Color Brewing Taproom The Mousetrap
1460 N Kingsbury St,
Chicago,
IL 60642.
http://www.offcolorbrewing.com/taproom


Athena Greek Restaurant
212 S Halsted St #1,
Chicago,
IL 60661.
http://www.athenachicago.com/


Goose Island Taproom
1800 W Fulton St,
Chicago,
IL 60612.
https://www.gooseisland.com/fulton-brewery/ 

 

My flights were paid for by Goose Island and my accommodation by Chicago Brewseum.

Chicago - Monday

Having breakfast in our own time is a great advantage of staying in a flat. Derek is up first again and is powering around the kitchen.

He’s already made tea and is getting ready to cook breakfast. Bacon sandwiches.

“You can’t go wrong with bacon.” I say unimaginatively.

"It would be better with brown sauce."

Can't argue with that.

There’s also porridge. Derek is definitely improving my travelling diet.

We wander down to Goose Island. It’s not far. Maybe 10 minutes. And it’s a beautiful day.

Inside the brewery, we get chatting with Brooke Bell (Director of Operations) while we wait for Mike. She gets us coffee, which is nice.

When Mike shows up, we load up on protective gear and enter the brew house. It’s nothing new to me, having been around the brewery several times. Well, almost nothing new. They now have a mash filter in addition to more conventional brewing vessels. Hearing Mike’s explanation of how it’s used, it makes total sense to have installed one.

In the pilot brew house, we chat with brewer Emily. We'll be brewing with her on Wednesday. An LK from Truman.

Time for lunch. We go to an Italian deli and get a 9-inch sub - roast beef and provolone cheese, in my case. We can all only manage half. I save the rest for later. Just as well I do.

When we're done eating it's time for a zoom chat with Jeff Alworth. Which is fun.

You can hear us rambling away here: https://player.fm/series/beervana-podcast/pod-exra-derek-prentice-ron-pattinson-and-mike-siegel

We continue over to the barrel warehouse for a look around. It’s in an unmarked building a couple of miles from the main brewery.

There’s a big stainless tank just inside the entrance.

“What do you use this for?” Derek asks.

“Last time it was to infuse Bourbon County Stout with dates. It takes a lot of dates to impart a noticeable flavour. Several thousand pounds, in this case.”

He shows us a photo. Man, that’s a lot of dates.

“There’s not much to see.” Mike says as we enter the main hall If you’d come a few weeks ago, it would have been full. But we’ve just packaged Bourbon County.”

There are still thousands of barrels, despite the open spaces.

Next stop is The Beer Temple, where we're recording a podcast with Chris Quinn, the owner, and Mike Schallau of Is/Was Brewery.

It’s a rather attractive bar and bottle shop. The bar is flooded with natural light, making it a bright and cheerful spot for a beer. I can’t help taking a peek in the shop. And checking out the price of St. Bernardus Abt. $23.99 for a four-pack. That’s $6 a bottle. I pay 2.30 euros.

We’ve a little time before recording and I get a Beachwood Brewing Sole Magic, 5.8% ABV. Quite a restrained West Coast IPA. Not bad.

We settle into a back room with mikes and headphones. All very professional looking.

We discuss Black Eagle, the history of Truman and Derek's long history of brewing in London. Black Eagle gets broken open and we sip as we chat. My sort of recording session.

Once we're done, we also get suck into Brewery Yard and Obadiah Poundage. I haven't tried either for a while. Brewery Yard is less bitter and still very Bretty. Obadiah Poundage is pretty much unchanged from last time I had it.

While we're drinking them Matt Becker passes by on his way to the bog. We’re old mates. He has a brewery in Brighton, Michigan. He also makes invert sugar. Some of which he’s brought along for our Wednesday brew. We join him and Luke in the bar for a couple of beers.

My next beer is Beachwood Brewing Citraholic 7.1% ABV. A bit more upfront IPA from the same brewery. Is citra the hop that smells like Izal? Not in this beer. It's a classic citrussy IPA.

We walk to Metropolitan Brewing, which is on the Chicago River. They specialise in German styles. That’s fine by me. I love me a good Lager.

I get an Oktoberfest. Which is pretty damn good. Lovely malt character. 

We sit outside on the patio overlooking the river. A pair of rowing boats glide along the dark water, racing each other. It's all rather lovely.

We chat of this and that. Beer and Matt's brewery. It’s starting to get a little chilly. Nothing I can’t cope with.

My next beer is a Zwickl. Also, pretty nice. Buttery with a good firm bitterness.

They close at 9 PM. What? Why does everything close so early here? It’s weird for a city of this size.

“Why don’t you come back to our B & B?” Matt suggests. “I’ve brought a couple of growlers of my beer.”

Sounds good to me.

We sit in the communal area. Which is, er, quite idiosyncratic. Looks like the place is run by old hippies.

Matt’s beers are in very impressive copper growlers, with built in taps and CO2.

The first is a Berlner Weisse he took 18 months to brew. It's bone dry, effervescent and a little tart. And with lots of Brettanomyces character. Pretty damn good. Proper mixed fermentation. Way better than the kettle-soured shit masquerading as the style.

The next is a Dark Mild. A very agreeable beer, malty and smooth.

We don't stay too late. We've a busy day tomorrow. Back at the flat, Derek and I finish our sandwiches. Just as well we saved them. Somehow, we never got around to eating dinner.

Heaven Hill is my night-time chum.



Goose Island Taproom
1800 W Fulton St,
Chicago,
IL 60612.
https://www.gooseisland.com/fulton-brewery/


The Beer Temple
3173 N Elston Ave,
Chicago,
IL 60618,
http://www.craftbeertemple.com/


Metropolitan Brewing
3057 N Rockwell St,
Chicago,
IL 60618.
http://www.metrobrewing.com/
 

My flights were paid for by Goose Island and my accommodation by Chicago Brewseum.

Chicago - Sunday

We don’t get up that early. I wait until Derek has finished in the bathroom. When I get to the kitchen, He’s making tea. Perfect.

“What would you like for breakfast? Bacon and eggs?” He asks.

“Ooh, yes.”

“Would you like some porridge, too?”

“Why not?”

The bacon and eggs are very nice. No salt, unfortunately. And the bread, despite being wholemeal, is weirdly sweet, in the way American bread is. The taste takes me back to the 1980s, when I lived in New York. And struggled to find edible bread.

We’re in no rush. Our event at the Red Lion doesn’t start until 14:00. Derek suggests that we get there early. Just in case. I’m not going to argue. Always better safe than sorry.

When it was first set up, it sounded like it was just going to be me and Derek chatting informally about the history of British beer styles and answering questions. Then, a few days ago, Liz Garibay, who’s organising the event for Chicago Brewseum, mentioned that she had a projector and screen. Sounded like they expect a presentation.

Luckily, I’ve a couple of powerpoints, of differing lengths, on that very topic. I’ve a whole suite of talks I’ve put together over the years. [Which I’ll be happy to perform for, given suitable payment. They cover a wide range of topics, from German Sour Styles to the real history of Scottish Beer.]

Derek also has a presentation with some good illustrations of fermenting and cleansing vessels.  That could come in handy.

Getting an Uber, we arrive quite early, around 12:30. Liz isn’t there. No surprise, as we have arranged to meet at 13:30. We introduce ourselves to the owner, Colin Cordwell and have an interesting chat with him. 

The pub is full of wartime memorabilia from both WW I and WW II. Not surprising, as Colin’s father fought in WW II. For a bit, then was a POW. Where he was the forger for the Great Escape.

There’s a selection of UK and German beers on draught. Not really fancying any of the British stuff, I get a Hofbrau Dunkles. Which is maltily pleasant, as you would expect.

We chat with a couple of people until Liz, who’s organising this, pops through the door. That’s when the fun starts. As we start to set up the projector and stuff.

I have a bag I take with me on my travels containing all the cables and crap that I might need. The VGA cable I recently retired as it took up too much space. No-one uses those things any more. And my new laptop has an HDMI socket. That’s the standard now. Except I forgot to replace the VGA cable with an HDMI one.

Luckily, someone else has the right.

I select a Belhaven Stout for my talking beer. Sadly, it’s on nitro. And has an odd aftertaste. Never mind. It’s showtime.

It’s mostly me doing my thing. Occasionally turning to Derek for reassurance. Or for further explanation of topics – such as parti-gyling – which he understands far better than me. We’re done pretty quickly, I think.

“How long did I speak for. Around an hour, wasn’t it?”

“It was an hour and forty minutes.” Liz tells me. What? I spoke for that long? How did everyone stay awake? No wonder I was getting tired.

The room being pretty small, the audience was limited to 20. But a fairly distinguished crowd, including Ray Daniels, Jenny Pfäfflin (brewer at Dovetail) and John Hannafan, who runs the Siebel Institute.

We get chatting to John and he invites me and Derek down on Tuesday to take a look at the institute. There’s some of our free time gone.

Quite a lot of time passes as we converse with various people. For reasons beyond my control, I have no books to flog. Plenty of time to chat, then. Until hunger starts to strike.

Duck Duck Goat is suggested as an interesting Asian restaurant within walking distance of our flat. Sounds perfect. We take a cab back to the flat, drop our stuff and head out on foot.

It’s about a 15-minute walk. Just enough to get our appetites going. The restaurant is packed. We can’t get a table until 9:15 – in about an hour – and they close at 9:30.

“Will we have time to eat?”

“That’s when the kitchen closes. You’ll have time to eat.”

Glad to have that clarified. What to do in the meantime?

“How about the bar over the road?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Our arses parked at the bar, we peruse the beer list. It’s a bit dark and I can’t read it that well.

“I’ll have an IPA.” It seems like a good default. Derek, being peckish, gets some edamame beans.

It’s a burger and rock music place. But closes at 9 PM. What the fuck? I thought this was a big city. Somewhere like this should be open until 3 AM. At least.

We stroll over to the restaurant when we’ve drunk up our beers. It’s still pretty full. We order 3 dishes. The first, a type of dumpling, is amazing. The second, deep-fried cream cheese wrapped in pastry, is just weird. The last, a noodle thing, is OK, but nothing special.

I have a tin of Metropolitan Oktoberfest to go with my food. It’s OK in a Lagery sort of way.

It’s not that late when we get back to the flat. We’ve a fairly early start tomorrow. And a very full day.

I only pause for a bourbon soul massage.



The Red Lion Pub
2446 N Lincoln Ave,
Chicago,
IL 60614.
http://redlionchicago.com/


Kuma's Corner West Loop
852 W Fulton Market,
Chicago,
IL 60607.
http://kumascorner.com/


Duck Duck Goat
857 W Fulton Market,
Chicago,
IL 60607.
https://duckduckgoatchicago.com/
 

My flights were paid for by Goose Island and my accommodation by Chicago Brewseum.

Let's Brew - 1885 William Younger XX

Not quite so many in this set, you’ll be pleased to hear. Logically enough, the next up is XX.

It’s not a huge amount stronger than X. A mere 5º. If X was around the same strength as 60/-, XX would be a 70/-. Which, of course, didn’t exist.

The recipe is just as thrilling as that of X. Pale malt and a few Flgs of pat. I really wish I knew what that measure was. It must be pretty small, otherwise it would be measured in quarters or bushels. Feel free to throw in a few handfuls of black malt.

Four types of base malt were employed, one English, one Scottish and two foreign.

Not so many types of hops this time up. Just two: American from the 1884 crop and Kent from 1884. Plus, dry hops of an unspecified type. 

1885 William Younger XX
pale malt	13.00 lb	100.00%
Cluster 120 min	1.00 oz
Fuggles 60 min	1.00 oz
Fuggles 30 min	1.00 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.50 oz
OG	1056
FG	1012
ABV	5.82
Apparent attenuation	78.57%
IBU	42
SRM	5
Mash at	153º F
Sparge at	163º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

Chicago - Saturday

Hey ho, here we go again. As I’m feeling crap. I take a cab to Schiphol. Something I don’t usually do. On the way back from the airport, yes. Then I’m often tired from an overnight trip. On the way out, I’m supposed to be fresh.

I arrive 3.5 hours before flight. I’m not checking in a bag. I still don’t trust them with my luggage. So, straight to security. Where it takes 15 minutes to get through. It’s usually much quicker than that. The standard queue looks brutal. At least an hour, is my guess.

I’m travelling with my Dutch passport again. Well, both passports, as the ESTA is on my UK one. Showing them my Dutch passport saves me the questions I’d get from the border guards: “How long have you been in the Netherlands?” Such an annoyance, having lived here for more than three decades.

Where do I go next? The lounge, of course. That’s one of the reasons I got here so early. To make sure I get a couple of hours in the lounge. What to drink? It has to be whisky. And whiskey. My usual Teachers and Jack Daniels. Not mixed, of course. I’m not a philistine.

I have a few whiskies and read a bit of Private Eye. Nothing to eat, as I’m not hungry. And I’ll be fed on the plane.

“Don’t go crazy, Ronald.” I can hear Dolores say in my head. When did I go crazy? Apart from that time in Hong Kong when I woke up covered in blood. That aside, I’ve never gone crazy. Not that I can recall.

I’m doing some pretty impressive coughing, even for me. Someone who coughs at international level. Those sitting around me in the plane are going to be so happy.

When I get to the gate, the plane is just about to start boarding. Perfect. No pointless hanging around. “Do not board” it says when my boarding card is scanned. I have to go to another agent. Who waves me through. What was all that about?

 
I get settled into my seat, 20H.

After sitting there for a few minutes, a bloke come up and says that I’m in his seat. He has the boarding pass to prove it: 20H. You what? I reserved this seat weeks ago. Then one of the cabin crew comes over and says: “Mr. Pattinson. You’ve been upgraded to economy premium.”

That’s nice. I get a better seat and more legroom. Not going to complain.

I notice the menu lists spirits. They don’t have them in normal cattle class. Not since the pandemic. I get myself a whisky. It’s a decent-sized, poured shot. None of that miniature rubbish.

I watch some crappy films. In Good Company. Gazillionaires. Other rubbish. Comedies that fail to raise a single smile. But which pass the time. Along with coughing. I’m really hitting my peak. In terms of both length and intensity. A pity this isn’t a competition. I’d be well out in front.

Not too much queueing at immigration, thankfully. And no waiting for a bag, as I didn’t check one in.

I’m supposed to be meeting Derek Prentice [legendary brewer who worked at Truman, Youngs and Fullers; currently at Wimbledon] at Exit A. Of course, I’ve come out of Exit B. Where is A? I’m still looking for it when Derek spots me. That was easy.

We’ve an appointment with Mike Stein [brewer at Goose Island] at the pub Bangers & Lace at 16:30.

We jump in a taxi and are soon bumping along the sunlit motorway. It’s a lovely day. Not such a lovely day for traffic. We periodically slow to a crawl. Is it me, or is the traffic in US cities getting even worse?

The driver has a bit of trouble finding the address, as many shops don’t display their number. I spot it on the corner.

It’s such a nice day that the outside tables are all full. Inside it is, then. The pub is long and slender, with an attractive stamped tin ceiling. Time for a beer, I think. What to get? The chalk board behind the bar just lists brewery and beer name. No mention of style.

When my Phase Three Pixel Density arrives, I realise that not checking on the style before ordering was a big mistake. It’s a glass of sludge. Sludgy as sludge can be. Very fruity with some bitterness. Sweet up front, harshly bitter at the back. Not my type of beer.

Derek wisely opts for a Dovetail Hefeweizen.

The crowd is very young. Which probably explains the punk music. Me and Derek are the oldest punters by more decades than I care to count.

After checking that it was a West Coast IPA, I order a Maine Mo. It’s not a big improvement. There’s a weird bitter taste. Not great.

I’m still scowling at Mo when Mike turns up. We finish our beers – me through gritted teeth – and he drives us to the flat where we’ll be staying.

It’s a long, thin affair, a corridor running its length. Some rooms are rather gloomy, with the next house about a metre away from the window. On the plus side, a well-equipped kitchen and big American fridge. Which will come in handy, as.

Mike has brought us all the essentials: bacon, eggs, bread and coffee. And beer, of course. We wouldn’t last long without that. There’s a rather nice bottle of Heaven Hill Bourbon, too. Everything we need for breakfast.

After Mike leaves, we settle in with a beer. It’s all Goose Island, obviously.

Mike suggested Kaiser Tiger, just a few minutes’ walk away, as an evening destination. Quite a pleasant walk, other than having to cross multiple lanes of traffic. The joys of being a pedestrian in the USA.

 
“Bacon, Sausage and Beer” is their slogan. Sounds good to me.

Not quite cavernous is how I would describe the interior. Large enough to feel sparsely populated by the couple of dozen customers. It seems very quiet for a Saturday night.

I order a Solemn Oath Double Snaggletooth. The strongest beer on the menu at 8.5%. I wonder why I chose that?

As you might have guessed from their slogan, they’re big on meat products here. Derek orders a wild boar sausage. Not being hungry, I order nowt.

The Vienna Lager Derek orders looks weird. Sludgy and far too pale. Very unappetising.

“Is this really Vienna Lager?” Derek asks the waiter.

“Yes.” He even checks with the barman.

“Doesn’t look anything like a Vienna to me.” I say in support.

The waiter is happy to change it for another beer. Derek had a lucky escape there. I wouldn’t want to have drunk that. It looked sludgy in a bad way. (If there is a good way.)

We don't stay out too late. I watch the last 15 minutes of Saturday Night Live. While the Heaven Hill warms my soul.



Bangers & Lace Wicker Park
1670 W Division St,
Chicago,
IL 60622.
http://bangersandlace.com/



Kaiser Tiger
1415 W Randolph St,
Chicago,
IL 60607.
https://www.kaisertiger.com/ 

My flights were paid for by Goose Island and my accommodation by Chicago Brewseum.

Back from Chicago

I arrived back in Amsterdam a few days ago. After a few days in Chicago to help launch Black Eagle, a collaboration beer with Goose Island and Wimbledon Brewery.

When you read the inevitable posts which will detail the trip, you may get the impression that it was one long pub/brewery crawl. It wasn’t. There were 30-, 40-minute stretches where no beer passed my lips. Mostly before breakfast. Or while stuck in traffic.

Also along was Derek Prentice. Former Truman’s brewer and all-round legend. Far more sensible than me. He was a positive influence. Especially on my diet.

The beer, our stab at Truman’s No. 1 Barley Wine, is a blend of two beers. One third is the Stock Ale, aged for around a year in wood and heavily hopped. Two thirds Runner, or young, Ale. Paler and less heavily hopped. And not aged.

Having tried the component beers at the launch, I’m now a big fan of blending. You can get a combination of characteristics not possible in a single beer. Like freshness and age.

I’m not worried about this sounding like an advert for the beer. Most of you won’t be able to buy it as it’s only available at the taproom. Sadly. Not much of it was made. Not enough to be spread around.

Next year is now on my mind. Where to go? I’m wide open to suggestions. Really, just about anywhere in the world.

All I have pencilled in is Atlanta/Asheville in late May and early June.

Invitations to judge in South America are particularly welcome. I really love it down there.
 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1885 William Younger X

Now we’re done with one set of Younger’s Ales, it’s time to start on another one: the X’s.

If the Shilling Ales are Milds and the X Ales are Milds, what the hell is the difference between them? You tell me. I can’t work it out. The Shilling Ales seem to be less well attenuated, but that’s about it. Perhaps the X Ales were draught and the Shilling Ales bottled.

This X is a little lower in gravity than its London equivalent. At least one from a large brewery. It’s still over 5% ABV, mind.

Another very simple grist from Younger.  Just base malt and, er, that’s it. Oh, and “5 flgs pat”. Which is probably patent malt. But what the hell is a flg? If that indeed is what it says. I’m not totally sure.  Getting back to the base malt, there are two types, one from the Middle East.

In contrast, there were many different types of hops. American from the 1884 harvest, Californian from 1884, Württemberg from 1884, Kent from 1884 and 1885 as copper hops. Loads of dry hops, too: American from 1884 and 1885, Californian from 1884, Württemberg from 1884 and 1885, EK from 1884.
 

1885 William Younger X
pale malt	11.75 lb	100.00%
Cluster 120 min	1.00 oz
Spalt 60 min	0.50 oz
Fuggles 30 min	1.00 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.50 oz
OG	1051
FG	1013
ABV	5.03
Apparent attenuation	74.51%
IBU	41
SRM	4.5
Mash at	155º F
Sparge at	163º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	59º F
Yeast	WLP028 Edinburgh Ale

 

Bamberg

I’ve most of the day to myself. Giving me time to nip across to Bamberg. Cool. I don’t need to be back until the early evening,

First. Time for breakfast. We’ve committed to breakfast in the hotel again. It’s cheaper than at the last place. How will it stand up?

There’s nothing hot, other than tea and coffee. At least you get a pot of them. The cold cuts are rather sparse, too.

“They’re proper bakers’ rolls, at least.” Dolores says, slicing open an irregular brown roll.

“But no bacon. Breakfast isn’t breakfast without bacon.”

“Not worth the money.” Dolores always keeps a close eye on the budget.

With the new day, a wifi connection has appeared. I check my mail. I’m busy with arrangements for a trip to Chicago a couple of days after I get back from Germany.

I jump on a train just after midday. With a Private Eye and a special “cola” drink. I’ve made sure to take the one direct train an hour. It’s not that crowded, as it’s a Saturday. No Schoolkids.

It’s ages since I was last in Bamberg. 2013, when I was on an Annafest trip with Andrew. Even discounting two pandemic years, that’s a long time. With all the US trips I’ve been on, I couldn’t squeeze in long German visits.

Rumbling through the little towns and wooded hills of Franconia is very soothing. And thirst inducing. Just as well I came prepared.

First destination is Fässla. It’s easy to find from the station. At least that’s what I thought. I manage to go the wrong way. That’s ten minutes of pub time lost.

Fässla is quite crowded. I have to sit in the Schwemme. Not to worry. Soon there’s a Lagerbier in my hand.

It’s pretty good. Clean, simple and very drinkable. There’s a hint of tobacco in the flavour, I guess from German hops. Balanced and “süffig” as the Germans say.

Now here’s a beer that I’ve never been able to pigeonhole stylistically. Lagerbier. I get that’s just the strength – but why is it amber? Amber Lagerbier, I suppose. I just can’t think of any other examples.

Not much seems to have changed in the decade since I was last in Bamberg. At least in Fässla. They still have the fake barrels. They’ve always irked. Especially, as on my first visit they had real barrels.

After a couple of Lagerbiers, I move onto Zwergla, the Dunkles. Only bottled, sadly. To be honest, it’s not that different from Lagerbier. A little hint of dark malt, maybe. Or maybe not. It isn’t really scratching that Dunkles itch.

Looking back on my life, it’s a bit like the hero’s in Obyčejný život (An Ordinary Life), one of my favourite novels. Dull and ordinary mostly, but with odd special bits. Moments when I’ve been blown around by the winds of history. It could have been a lot worse.

My plan was to visit Spezial next. But can see the shutters are shut even before I leave Fässla. What the fuck? What pub closes early on Saturday afternoon? Time for Plan B. Where to go next?

This might sound like heresy. I decide it’s not worth walking all the way to Schlenkerla. It’s 3 PM and it will probably be packed. Plus, I have decent access to their beers. Much as I love the beer and pub, my time can be better spent.

Sternla is my choice. I whittled away a hot summer afternoon in their beer garden once. A happy memory. Since, a brewery has been installed. Two good reasons to drop by.

I only get a table because there’s a later reservation. It’s pretty lively. There’s a group of older blokes on the next table which is pretty excited. They must have been here a while.

The menu lists two of their own beers: Export and Märzen. Obviously, I go for the latter. 13º. I thought it had to be 13.5º to 14º in Bavaria. Have they changed the rules, or do I just have it wrong?

All academic, as it’s off. Export it is then. 12.8º Plato, 5.1% ABV Not just unfiltered, positively murky. Tastes OK. If a bit yeasty. I suppose that freshens it up. Maybe. It’s not long before a second appears. Well, after I ask for it. Not magically.

The middle-aged men on the next table are getting enthusiastically stuck into shots. Dangerously enthusiastically for a Saturday afternoon. Especially as he shots don’t seem to be dampening their enthusiasm for beer much.

I can’t have too many. I have a train to catch. Must get back to Kulmbach on time. I pick up a sarnie in the station. I've sort of forgotten to eat.



Brauerei Fässla
Ob. Königstraße 1921,
96052 Bamberg.
https://www.faessla.de/


Brauhaus Zum Sternla
Lange Str. 46,
96047 Bamberg.
http://www.sternla.de/

Kulmbach

After a bit of a deliberation, we bought breakfast when we checked in. Let’s see what it’s like.

Dolores goes first. She’s disappointed.

“They only have a couple of different sorts of meat and cheese. Not worth the money.”

But I can smell bacon. Around the back of the breakfast bar there’s one of those stainless-steel hot food thingies. In it are scrambled egg, bacon and sausages. I pile my plate with the first two.

“Where did you find that?”

“Around the back.”

For me, the breakfast is OK. Not great, but good enough. Dolores is distinctly less happy.

We trundle our trolley bags down to the station in time for a quick visit to Lidl. To take back some empties and stock up for the journey. Dolores is very well organised. I wait and guard the luggage. Luckily, seated in one of the few benches.

Our train is a fairly small diesel. And quite full. Just as well Dolores is with me to grab seats. She’s such a helpful travelling companion.

I’ve prepared a train drink. Cheap bourbon and diet cola. In a half litre cola bottle. Mmm. Warming.

“Don’t go crazy with that, Ronald. It’s strong.”

“When did I ever go crazy?”

You can guess what happened next.

The railway follows the Pegnitz. I’ve been down this way before. Years ago with Anti-American Mike.

“Look at that castle, Dolores.” It is dead impressive. It looks familiar. Then I spot the Kaiser brewery. In know where this is. It’s Neuhaus. Home to a Zoigl that isn’t called Zoigl. Doesn’t have a name at all, actually.

I say “is” home. Was would be more accurate. The communal brewhouse has been converted into a house. A shame, because it was a really good and distinctive beer. Though the flies in the beer garden were dead annoying.

We’re changing in Bayreuth. We arrive a little late, still with plenty of time to make the connection. The platform is packed with schoolkids. Who all tip onto the slightly larger diesel with us. I’m lucky to get a seat.

“Out in the sticks, the buses are mostly run for schoolchildren. Often me and Anti-American Mike were the only adults on the bus.”

“That must have been weird.”

“Well, I did feel a little self-conscious tucking into impulse Schnapps.” It didn’t stop me, though.

Picking the wrong way to walk to the hotel, we have to sprint over a main road with our bags. More excitement than I need. The hotel is over the road from the huge conical fermenters of the Kulmbacher Brauerei.

No matter hard we try, we can’t connect to the wifi network. Dolores has a word with the bloke on reception. Who gets a colleague to do some resetting. It doesn’t help. We give up and head into town.

It doesn’t take long. Kulmbach isn’t a large town. Dolores is slightly disappointed, despite it being fairly scenic.

“I expected it to be older.”

I can’t see what she’s complaining about. From the compact market place there’s a great view of the castle literally towering over the town. 

“Every town in Franconia has a castle.” I remark. At least that’s how it seems.

Pubs are thin on the ground. Fortunately, the bloke in the hotel gave Dolores a map, on which he marked the town’s few pubs.

One just off the market square, Zum Petz, is open. A couple of smokers are sitting outside. Inside, a couple of people are on the Stammtisch. Not very lively.

It’s a small, old-fashioned looking place, Like a miniature beer hall with leaded windows, panelled walls and pine-topped tables. Small, but perfectly formed.

Inevitably, the beer is from Kulmbacher Brauerei. In the form of Monschof. They do have Kellerbier, though. We order two. It tastes very fresh and the heavy carbonation creates an almost banked head. Better than I expected.

A tourist couple wanders in and orders food. Now we’re not totally alone, other than the landlord’s mates. Which is nice.

Dolores being keen to see a bit more of the town, we leave after just the one. Heading in the direction of another pub marked on the map. Off the market place, the streets are pretty empty. Scenic, but rather lifeless.

The town centre is mostly sort-of pedestrianised. It all looks like pavement, except occasional cars roll past. That’s nice and confusing.

Halfway down a somnolent street is another small pub, Zur Birke. It’s in a similar style to the last place. Not quite so worn in, mind. The wood hasn’t had time to turn to that lovely shade of dark brown. “Nappy brown” as our ancestors would have so colourfully described it.

The sign outside proclaims Kulmbacher, totally unsurprisingly. But when I ask the friendly waitress what they have on draught, she tells me that they have a Dunkles from Krug Bräu, a small brewery in the Fränkische Schweiz. Oooh, that sounds good.

It’s a seductive dark amber, with a fat fluffy head. It certainly looks the part. And it is. Packed with deep malt flavours.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve had this before, Dolores. Good, isn’t it?”

“Lovely.” Dolores is drinking the same as me for once. She does like a good beer. She is German, after all.

With an early evening appointment, there’s no time for a second beer. Which is a shame.




Restaurant Zum Petz
Langgasse 3,
95326 Kulmbach.


Gasthaus zur Birke
Fischergasse 17,
95326 Kulmbach.
https://www.zur-birke-kulmbach.de/

Nuremberg

Dolores hasn’t flown for a while. I imagine her slowly recalling all the little things that make flying so much fun. Like endless queueing and endless walking. We’re getting plenty of both.

At least we didn’t have to queue to get into the terminal. Like last time with the kids. What a pain in the arse that was. One reason we’re here more than four hours before departure. That and Schiphol advising to turn up at least three hours in advance.

No bags to check. I remember the piles of bags lying around all over the place last time I was here. But I do ask the priority check in agent where we need to go for security.  I show her our boarding cards so she can see our destination. Bad idea.

Seeing Dolores doesn’t have special status, she has to go through standard security. Fuck. They definitely didn’t use to do this.  Though they did in July when I travelled with the kids. What an annoying fucking policy.

“I should complain.” I tell Dolores. I really fucking should.

I ask another KLM person; “Where’s non-priority security? They won’t let my wife go through the priority lane.”

She rolls her eyes and says: “Those stupid people. Take the lift there. There probably won’t be any staff about at the top.”

Which turns out to be perfectly true.  It’s more crowded than usual. But nothing compared to the general side. Based on past bitter experiences, it looks like a 45-60 minute wait. So glad we dodged that one.

Being Schengen-bound, we dodge another queue. Passport control. For the first time, I’m packing only my Dutch one. Which feels a little odd. Never travelled without a UK passport.

An early arrival has a big upside: lots of time in the lounge.

“I wonder where it is? I usually go to the non-Schengen one.”

It’s not that difficult to find. Soon we’re inside and looking for seats. Not that easy, given how busy it is. I let Dolores take the lead. Years of train travel in the DDR honed her skills in elbowing through crowds and grabbing a seat.

“Reviews rate this lower than the other lounge.” I say.

“I can’t see much difference.”

“Me neither. Where’s the bar?”

After bringing back her wine, I tell Dolores: “There’s one big advantage this place has: self-service drinks. None of that “singles only” for me here. It’s trebles all round.”
“Don’t go crazy, Ronald.”

“When have I ever?”

“Hmmpfh” She makes that funny noise which somehow manages to convey contempt, pity, incredulity, scorn and a tiny hint of amusement.

I’m not impressed with the food. None of the hot stuff looks very appetising. On the other hand, I can pour myself as much whisky as I want. I know which lounge is the winner for me.

We lounge around for the hours until our flight. Nibbling at the odd bit of cold food. Quite relaxing. For an airport experience.

Like good little passengers, we troll up to our gate 30 minutes before scheduled departure. Which is still being shown “as scheduled” on the displays. Even though that’s clearly not true. The inbound aircraft hasn’t arrived. No way we’re leaving in half an hour.

It’s an hour. A win, in my book. I’ve had so, so much worse. Like the receding into the distance time, which gets two hours later for every hour that passes. Resembling a weird time disturbance that defies the laws of physics.

The flight is, like all flights, a limbo between two states of being. Outside, yet still filled with, time. A dull period needing to be endured. When I’m on my own. Now, I’ve got Dolores to chat with.

I get a diet cola, rather than a red wine, Dolores has a beer.

No checked in luggage and no passport control has us looking for the U-Bahn station. And it’s right there. Because this is Germany and they locate stations right next to the terminals.

Our hotel is just a couple of hundred metres from the main station. We’re leaving by rail tomorrow. It makes sense to be close to the station.

By the time we’re checked in and sorted out, it’s past seven PM.  Getting around food time. First, however, we pop back to the station. To the Lidl we spotted earlier. For drinks and stuff. I grab a couple of cans of Perlenbacher Strong Lager. Then notice some non-brand bourbon. And it’s under ten euros. I can’t pass that up.

Now it’s time to eat. There’s a brewpub directly opposite called Mautkeller. In this ancient building with a huge roof. I went there years ago. A fairly dull German brewpub, as I recall. Helles, Dunkles, Weizen. That sort of place. Now it’s owned by the large local brewery, Tucher.

The enormous vaulted beerhall basement seems much as I can remember it. Unless I’m just assuming it used to be similar. The structure, at least, much be unchanged. And that’s impressive.

I order an unfiltered Urbräu Helles, brewed on the premises. While Dolores has a Weissbier.

When they arrive, I realise my mistake. I didn’t point at the menu when I ordered. I just said “Urbräu Helles”. Turns out That’s also the name of the standard Tucher Helles. Not exactly exciting, but pleasant enough.

What else could I order but Nürnberger Bratwurst? You can get 6, 9 or 12. I choose the middle option. But contemplate a full dozen.

Half way through, I’m so glad I didn’t. The little buggers are more filling than you think. Nine have me stuffed. So stuffed, we only have the one beer.

We have an early night. Trains to catch tomorrow.



Tucher Mautkeller Nürnberg
Hallpl. 2,
90402 Nürnberg.
https://tucher-mautkeller.de/

Let's Brew - 1909 Truman London Keeper

While the classier Pale Ales – P1 and P2 – the weakest, London Keeper, was produced in London. Along with X, it was the only Ale made at Brick Lane.

Despite the name, it was a Running Bitter. What today would be classed as an Ordinary Bitter. Though, especially in bottled form, back in the day it would probably been described as a Light Bitter.

The grist is dead simple: base malt and invert sugar. There aren’t even any adjuncts. Something which, by this time, was pretty standard. Especially in Pale Ales. Of course, there were multiple types of pale malt. Four in total, with one made from Californian barley.

Just the three types of hops: Worcester from the 1908 harvest cold stored, Hallertau from 1908 and Oregon from 1908. 

We brewed a slightly later version of this beer at Goose Island just a couple of days ago. Sadly, I doubt I'll ever get to taste it as it won't be bottled.

1909 Truman London Keeper
pale malt	6.50 lb	83.87%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.25 lb	16.13%
Cluster 90 mins	0.50 oz
Fuggles 90 mins	0.50 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.00 oz
Hallertau 30 mins	1.00 oz
OG	1046
FG	1012
ABV	4.50
Apparent attenuation	73.91%
IBU	40
SRM	7
Mash at	151º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	60.5º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale