Off to nowhere

I rise at 11:00 and go to the kids' room. They're both still lying in bed, the lazy gits.

I watch a programme about Korean chef having a popup restaurant in Marrakech. The locals seem pretty keen on his food. Though, obviously, they’ve toned down the pork content considerably. They do love their pork here in Korea. It’s one of the country’s most endearing features.

The next episode in Naples is weirder. When they mention that they’re Korean, almost everyone they meet says “Oh. Kim Jung-Un!” Who is the only Korean they’ve heard of. The Koreans getting visibly increasingly pissed off the more he’s mentioned. Despite their best efforts to hide it. The locals this time don’t like that there’s no wine.

We hang around in the kids' room for a while. Mostly in the hope that they'll finally clean my room.

It's Children's Day and lots of stuff isn't open. Though, obviously, the convenience stores are, where me and Lexxie stock up with essentials. Whisky, beer, soju. Andrew is just lying in bed, as he still feels crap.

Late afternoon Lexxie and I start thinking about food. A look on the web finds a place very close by with the promising name of Meat. That's where we head. It looks really good. Like a butcher's at the front.

Too good. It's full. We're told that we need to write down our name and telephone number and they'll call us when a table is free. Lexxie isn't keen, as a call will cost him a lot of money. Instead, we look further. As it's raining, we don't want to be walking around too much

Happily, there are plenty of eating opportunities around the corner on the main road. Why didn’t we come this way the other day? Another Korean BBQ place, for example. We settle in there. Other than a father and son sitting on the opposite side of the room, we’re the only customers.

Lexxie does his phone magic with the Korean menu on the wall. Which reveals it’s mostly various cuts of pork. We order the most expensive, which looks like a chop, as it’s not that fatty. Unlike the belly pork we had the other day. 

There’s an impressive array of accompanying bits: kimchi, garlic, onions, salad leaves, chili and some weird soggy leaf. All the stuff you need.

The pork is very nice. But doesn't fill us up.

“Do you fancy some beef, Lexxie?”

“I could eat some.”

“Don’t let me force you.”

“Yes, I want some beef, Dad. Is that clear enough?”

It’s good that we’re bonding like this on Children’s Day. I order a round of beef. Which is also pretty damn good.

They’re using real charcoal to barbecue. Which means they need to have an extractor right over it to stop the room filling up with smoke.

While Lexxie is drinking beer, I'm on soju again. Which I've got a bit of a taste for. Not that it has that much taste to speak of. Probably, the main reason I like it. That and all the alcohol.

Back at the hotel, Andrew is still in bed. He looks a little better. But not much.

“Can you try not to die, Andrew. It would be murder getting your body back to Holland.”

“Sorry to inconvenience you.”

“And I’d have to explain to your Mum.”

“That’s would be so bad for you, Dad.”

“I know. Your Mum would be so angry. With me.”

“What about me?”

“You’d be OK. You’d be dead.”

“Cheers, Dad.”

I think I’ve managed to cheer him up.

We eventually coax him into drinking some beer. Which definitely helps his mood.

I check my room. They still haven't made it up. Best to carry on partying here in the kids’ room. Which isn’t quite totally filled with rubbish yet.

We don’t leave it too late. Not this time. It’s not far past midnight when I decamp to my rubbish tip of a room. Clearing a path to my bed before collapsing into it.

Let's Brew - 1911 Russell X

As at most breweries, X Ale, base level Mild, was one of the most popular beers. And a good bit stronger than today’s version of Ordinary Mild.

The gravity is a touch lower than in equivalent London beers, which were mostly a few degrees over 1050º.

It’s not a very complicated grist. Just base malt, maize and sugar. Though the malt is split 50-50 between English and foreign. Barley that is. It would all have been malted in the UK. Described as “pale invert”, I’m pretty sure that the sugar was No. 1 invert.

It’s interesting to see what is happening with the colour. I’d describe this as semi-dark, which is about right for the period. Few Milds had gone properly dark brown, but many were dark enough to be easily distinguishable from Bitter.

Just two types of English hops, two thirds from the 1910 harvest, the other third from 1908. 

1911 Russell X
pale malt	7.00 lb	72.99%
flaked maize	0.75 lb	7.82%
No. 1 invert sugar	1.75 lb	18.25%
caramel 1000 SRM	0.09 lb	0.94%
Fuggles 90 mins	0.75 oz
Fuggles 90 mins	0.75 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	0.75 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.50 oz
OG	1048
FG	1012
ABV	4.76
Apparent attenuation	75.00%
IBU	27
SRM	12
Mash at	147º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1768 English Special Bitter

Do you remember the 1970s?

Realising how scant my own memories of the 1970s were when I started writing them down, I thought: "Why not steal other people's memories?" 

Sorry, collect the recollections of others. Of beer and pubs in the 1970s. And 1980s, I suppose. Any old crap that you can remember. Nothing is too trivial. Yearning for the low, low prices of the past is especially welcome.

You can send them to me either as a comment or as an email via the "Get in Touch" gadget to your left.

Not sure how much response I'll get to this. I'd like to string them together into something semi-coherent. 

Come on oldies. Send me your memories.

Off to the beach

The kids knock on my door about noon again. They’re so lazy. I’ve been up since six. Or would have been, if I hadn’t known how lazy they are. And hadn't stayed up late myself last night.

We start the day with the leftover sandwiches from yesterday. As you do. And the little whisky that remains. I do, that is. I’m not letting anyone else get near it.

“Do you have to start drinking so early, Dad?”

“Yes. I’m on holiday. It’s like being in an airport. Drinking at any time of day is acceptable.”

“Says you.”

“It’s not me who decides, but society.”

“And it just happens to fit in with what you want to do?”

“That’s a mere happy coincidence.”

“Riiight.”

The plan is to visit the beach. But, as the pubs there don't open until six, we hang around in the hotel for a while. Occupying ourselves with weird Korean TV. And whisky, obviously. For me. I wouldn't let the kids near it.

Lexxie uses an app to get us a taxi. It's a mere 5,000 wong. Well under 4 euros. It costs 6.50 euros just to step into a cab in Amsterdam.

It's rather breezy on the seafront. Which means it's quite cool. Best thing is the view of the steelworks across the bay. It's just like being in Ijmuiden. Other than all the Korean signs.

We walk out onto the pavilion, a concrete and wood structure sticking out into the sea. Which, according to the internet, is one of Pohang’s top attractions. Probably because of its ace view of the steelworks.

“I remember when you had those things in Britain.”

“What things, Dad?”

“Those places where they make things. Factories, I think we used to call them.”

“Very funny.”

There’s not much to the pavilion. A Concrete pier topped by an open wooden structure. It feels even breezier here. There’s nowhere to shelter, either. Not much of anything, other than signs warning you not to fall into the sea. Glad they warned me. Otherwise, I might easily have dropped over the edge.

“Best not hang around too long, lads. Especially as it’s just about opening time.”

“You wouldn’t want to miss five minutes of drinking time, would you.”

“Of course not. With the old UK licensing laws, you had to grab every second you could.”

We're headed for a bar restaurant called 1943.  A place Lexxie has been to multiple times. It’s quite large.

"Why is it called 1943?"

"No idea."

"I can't imagine that was the happiest of years in Korea."

"Probably better than 1953."

We're the first customers and have our choice of seats. We pick ones close to the chandelier. Which is about a foot off the ground.

"That wouldn't last 5 minutes in Britain. Some drunk would fall into it and smash it." Andrew says.

I'm so proud of the country of my birth.

The kids order beer. By beer, I mean a 3-litre pitcher. That should keep them going for a while. I get a soju. It's more interesting than a bland industrial Pils. And perhaps a tad more alcoholic.

Lexxie orders food for us. A dish of tiny sausages covered in cheese and one of fried squid with hot sauce. The former is a bit odd. Not really my idea of Asian food.

As we eat, the place begins to fill up. I say we. Me and Lexxie, really. Andrew isn't hungry again and only has a couple of mouthfuls.

After we've polished off the first two dishes, Alexei orders another. Something spicy. It's a sort of meat and vegetable stew. Lexxie finds it a bit too hot. I don't find it that bad. Then again, I'm not drinking the broth. After a while, Lexxie nips to the shop to get some milk. Just to cool down his mouth.

“I thought you could cope with spice?”*

“Fuck off, Dad.”

“Charming. How dare you speak to your father like that?”

“Really, Dad, just fuck off.”

We sit and chat. The kids get another pitcher of beer. I get another soju. We don't manage to finish the stew. Though I pick out all the pieces of meat. Which are super yummy.

“It’s not that spicy.” I remark, as I sift through the stew.

“Remember what I said about fucking off, Dad?”

“No.”

“That’s the problem. You’re going senile.”

“What did you say?”

“And deaf, too.”

Lexxie orders us another taxi to return. It doesn't take long.  Bouncing along at an only slightly scary speed through the glowing streets of downtown Pohang.

We lounge around in my room until the booze runs out. Then the kids nip out to the shop. That's the great thing about Korea. The convenience stores all sell alcohol and are open 24 hours. Not stupid licensing laws here. And having kids to go and fetch stuff for you. Not that it happens often.

We stay up quite late again. Watching the Standy-Uppy guys on Youtube. It's 2 AM when we turn in.

The kids are a bad influence. That’s what I’m going to tell Dolores. Or that we’re having priceless family bonding time. “You’re just a bunch of drunks, really.” I can already hear her say.



* Both kids bit into a Carolina Reaper pepper once in Newark.



1943
12번지 1011 두호동 Buk-gu,
Pohang-si,
Gyeongsangbuk-do.
 

An amazing offer you can't afford to miss!

Yes, it's time for me to push my amazing bespoke recipe offer. Where you can get a recipe of your very own, for any day of the year. For example, 17th May to celebrate City's crushing of Real Madrid. 

I think it's amazing value for money. Dolores sees it as a way of keeping her useless husband occupied and earning a little money. Now that he's a pensioner without a pension.

Make your birthday special - by brewing a beer originally made on that date.

For a mere 25 euros, I'll create a bespoke recipe for any day of the year you like. As well as the recipe, there's a few hundred words of text describing the beer and its historical context and an image of the original brewing record.

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Off to market

Lexxie knocks on my door at noon, as arranged. Andrew trolls up a little later. He isn't looking great.

First things first. We need more drinks. How did the kids through that much beer? Who stole all my whisky?

After provisioning up, we hang around for a while and eat a little. The plan is to visit the market, which is just over the road, then later head to the beach.

The market is very like the one we visited in Seoul a few years back. Though there's rather more emphasis on fish. (A lot more emphasis. Almost to the point of obsession. But not quite. Like a relation crazy enough to be best avoided, but not quite crazy enough for sectioning.) Not surprising, as it's right next to the fishing port.

It's not too busy, I guess because it's a bit late - after 3 PM. So big, I’m sure we’ll never get around all of it. But it’s fun to randomly stroll a little.

Loads of dried fish. Lots of live fish and crabs, too. It is slightly disturbing, all the live things. I’m pretty used to my food being pre-killed. Disappointed that there isn’t much in a state ready to eat. Unlike the Seoul market, where there was stuff cooking away all over the place. Despite the brain-melting heat.

Though mostly fish, there is other stuff. Fruit and veg. Flowers. Clothes. Hardware. One stall sells nothing but chillies. I’m surprised there’s much demand for them here. It’s not like the food is spicy or anything.

We end up on the dock, where all the fishing boats are parked. As Andrew is feeling pretty rough, we return to the hotel. After stocking up again in a convenience store. I can’t understand why we need to visit them so often. Someone must be breaking into our rooms while we’re asleep.

We hang around in my room again. Andrew sleeps in my bed. He really doesn't look well. While me and Lexxie watch Transformers 2 on the TV. Luckily, it's subtitled. Or maybe not, given the quality of the dialogue. At least, the increasingly ridiculous action sequences that stop them talking too much.

I send Dolores some of the photos from the market. For some reason she wants snaps of the kids.

“Do you want some photos of fish?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“So, you do want photos of fish?”

“No, I don’t”

“Here you go, then.” I’m a bit like the toaster in Red Dwarf.

I’m sure she loves the fish photos. She’s just too proud to admit it.

“Stop sending me photos of fish.”

She definitely loves them. I can read between the lines. That’s why I’m such a great husband. And father.

Andrew is feeling too crap to go to the beach. We’re postponing that until tomorrow.

Instead, around six me and Lexxie head off in search of fried chicken. He has a couple of leads. But warns me:

“Google maps doesn’t work very well in Korea.”

As an example, he shows me where our hotel is marked. It’s not on a street.

The place he has in mind isn’t open. And never will be again, as the unit is empty. Oh well, must look further.

We’re in what I would call a high-streety type of area. Lots of clothes shops. Some with pretty weird names. Like Kidnap. “With sincere gratitude” is their slogan. What the hell message is that trying to convey? As they’re selling menswear, are those clothes for kidnappers?

Soup is another one. Any guess what that sells? Women’s clothes. Has someone just been picking random words from an English dictionary? Next door is Codes Combine. Posh women’s clothes, what else?

Any guesses what Sexy Cookie might be purveying? You’ll never guess. Lingerie. That’s confusing. A shop name that sort of makes sense.

It takes us a while to find somewhere to eat. Mostly because we're a little early. And in the wrong area. The weird clothes shops are a clue.

Eventually, we find somewhere open. It’s almost all the way back to our hotel. We're their first customers. It sort of looks vaguely pub-like. Very vaguely. If you squint and ignore all the signs in Korean. And the fact that there’s no bar.

“Who’s that on the TV?” I ask.

“The South Korean president.”

“He looks a bit dodgy.”

“He is.”

We order a pile of roast chicken and chips between us. Plus a beer for Lexxie and a soju for me. I do try my best to fit in with local traditions.

“Isn’t this the laughing woman brand soju, Lexxie?”

“You mean the one advertised by that model?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“No, Dad. But, yes, it the one you’ve seen advertised.”

“It must be crap, then. If they have to advertise it.”

“You’re weird, Dad.”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?”

“Shut up, Dad.”

They serve these things that look like hula hoops as a sort of amuse bouche. Along with a clear soup and some pickles. Interesting.

The food isn't bad. With a dead spicy hot sauce. Exactly what you’d expect.

You may have noticed that I’m not drinking much beer. There’s a good reason for that. Industrial Pils is all that’s on offer.  I could drink it. But why should I? I’m not going to really enjoy it. Far better to drink soju. A proper local drink. And sort of beer, as it’s made from rice. That it contains far more alcohol than Pils in just a happy coincidence.

Back in my room, we drink and watch TV. Andrew has livened up a bit. Top Gun is on. I’m sure that’s not the reason he’s chirpier..

What a terrible film. The Tom Cruise character is such an arsehole. Why doesn’t everyone just tell him to fuck off? By the climactic battle, I’m rooting for the Soviets to shoot the twat down. Or maybe one of his own side.

We watch Peep Show on Netflix. It cheers Andrew up even more. Or maybe it’s the beer, to which he has returned. What a shock.

It's after three when we turn in. Lexxie is showing no signs of returning to his dorm.

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1962 Fullers Nourishing Stout

Someone asked the other day: what's Nourishing Stout? Bottled Porter was my reply. And that's exactly how this started. In the brewhouse it continued to be called Porter decades after the draught form had been dropped and it was only available in bottles as Nourishing Stout.

And here we are at the end of Nourishing Stout. It probably wasn’t dropped in 1962. But it’s the last brewing book I photographed which includes it. Sometime in the early or mid-sixties.

This iteration isn’t wildly different from that of 1959. I’m only really including it for reasons of completeness. All the same elements are there, just in slightly varying percentages. Less black malt, flaked maize and sugar; more pale and crystal malt. But nothing radically different.

The sugar was a mix of Special Dark and PEX. For which I’ve substituted No. 3 invert sugar.

There’s the same, cooler mash as in 1959.

Action	barrels	strike heat	initial heat	mashed (mins)	stood (mins)	tap heat
mash	17	151º F	138º F	0	30	133º F
underlet	2	170º F	149º F		120	145º F
sacc. liquor	41
sparge	105	170º F

Not many details were provided about the hops. All I know is that they were English-grown Fuggles. 

1962 Fullers Nourishing Stout
pale malt	3.25 lb	52.93%
black malt	0.50 lb	8.14%
crystal malt 60 L	0.50 lb	8.14%
flaked maize	0.25 lb	4.07%
No. 3 invert sugar	1.25 lb	20.36%
caramel 500 SRM	0.39 lb	6.35%
Fuggles 105 min	0.75 oz
Goldings 30 min	0.75 oz
OG	1031
FG	1010
ABV	2.78
Apparent attenuation	67.74%
IBU	20
SRM	31
Mash at	146º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	105 minutes
pitching temp	62.5º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1968 London ESB

Off to Pohang

I'm in no rush to rise. Our train isn't until 12:38.

Our train to Pohang, that is. Where my other son, Alexei, is currently studying. Did I explain that visiting him is the point of our trip? No? OK: we’re in Korea to visit Lexxie. South Korea, obviously. I’m not insane.

I don't have much in the way of packing to do. As I didn't unpack yesterday. Other than my laptop. I soon get that in its bag. Despite it putting up a bit of a struggle.

We stop off at a shop on the way to the station, picking up provisions for the journey.  Sandwiches, cola, soju, beer, whisky. Just the essentials.

Sitting on the pavement close to the station, some blokes are enjoying a morning soju. How sweet.

“That’ll be you in a couple of years, Dad. When Mum finally gets fed up with you.”

“That’s an inspirational thought to start the day.”

“No need to thank me, Dad.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

The train is very long and not that full. We speed along, wooded hills and greenhouse-packed paddy fields smearing past the window. Then packed cities, surrounded by protective high-rise bristles.

Everything goes very smoothly. Including the train itself. Which is based on the TGV. I do sleep for quite a lot of it. Maybe the special drink I assembled is partly to blame. Diet cola and whisky. 50-50. Well, more 40-60, if I’m being realistic.

They’ve got this train stuff so wrong here. You can blame state control for that. Clean, modern stations, a network of high-speed lines, toilets cleaned during the journey, reasonable ticket prices. It’s clear that nationalised railways are a total disaster. Thank god the UK avoided that route.

“What would a South Korean think of UK trains, Andrew?”

“That they were surprisingly cheap, clean and efficient?”

“Don’t take the piss.”

I'm disgusted when the train arrives in Pohang a full two minutes late. I thought KTX was better than that.

We immediately go to the counter and get tickets for our train back to Seoul in about a week. Less stress on the day we travel by doing getting them now.

We get a taxi pretty quickly. From our experience over here last time, I noted down the name of the hotel in Korean. Just as well, because the driver can't read Roman letters. We’d have been screwed.

After checking in, we lounge around in the hotel a bit. This time we do have adjacent rooms. Which, oddly, contain a desktop, keyboard, mouse and screen. Not that we’ll need to use them.

We spend quite some time searching the room for the aircon remote. Until we sheepishly realise we’ve been holding it in our hands the whole time: it shares the TV remote.

We've arranged to see Lexxie outside the hotel at 18:00. His taxi pulls up just we step outside. He’s looking rather slim and mature. Korean food seems to be agreeing with him.

“What the fuck is this? You’re two minutes late.” I greet him cheerily.

“Dad, can you just be normal for once?”

“Just bantz, lads.”

“Please never use that word again. You sound like a right twat.”

“Pleased to see you, too.”

“You started it, Dad.”

“Just ba . . .”

“Remember what I said about using that word?” Andrew reminds me.

“. . . Ba ba bloody delighted to see you, Lexxie.”

“Stop being weird, Dad.”

“I can see you’re pleased to see me, too.”

“Don’t push it.”

Food is what we need. Off we go in a random direction. We spot a place with a pig in its sign. Which is a good sign. It's a Korean BBQ place. The menu is only in Korean. Lexxie uses his phone to translate it.

So glad I made sure the kids were computer literate. Not just dumping them on the computer in the hope it would entertain the little bastards, for at least a short while. Long enough for the shouting in my head to stop.

Soon we have a big pile of belly pork cooking away. The staff are very friendly and helpful. Which is just as well. I doubt they get many foreigners in. They patiently explain exactly what how we’re supposed to eat the food.

Noticing a proper supermarket on our way back, we nip in for some provisions. Mostly drinks. Though, as they sell no spirits, we need to call into a convenience store for whisky. Well, I do. The kids won’t be drinking any of it. Why were there no spirits? Did we just miss them?

We have a little trouble finding our way back to the hotel. As we wandered off fairly randomly. And our hotel is down a tiny side street. Oh, and we didn’t pay attention to where we were walking. Luckily, there's wifi and Lexxie can use Google maps to guide us back. The wonders of modern technology.

I suppose we would have found it eventually. How did I sue to find my way around strange cities without a map? I really can’t remember. It was all a very long time ago. My memory is really crap, too. Other than for “that stupid beer stuff” as Dolores calls it.

Back in my room, we spend a few hours chatting and drinking. Just as well we got in enough booze for three nights.

Before we know it, the clock has ticked past Lexxie’s dorm curfew. It's even later by the time we go to bed.

Innovation and change

There seems to be a lot of confusion in the beer world about the use of these two words: innovation and change.

From my observations of beer history, one is a constant. The other rather intermittent. Which one do you think is which? Change the former, innovation the latter.

Changes in beer are driven by many factors. The great majority of them external. My personal favourite is taxation (unless I'm the one paying it). One of the biggest factors driving change in beer. Because governments love tinkering with taxation. And those changes have a knock-on effect on the beers being brewed.

Where tax is a change driven by men's actions, other drivers are less directly under human control. Like demographics. Generations inevitably come and and go. And with them their beer preferences. This is the process by which styles are born, grow to adulthood and then, like me, slowly crumble and die.

Even styles which stick around a long time are always in a state of flux, adapting to the changing environment around them. Nothing illustrates this phenomenon better than Mild Ale. Which kicked off in the early 19th century as a 6% to 11% ABV pale beer and ended the 20th as a 3% dark beer. You can't change much more than that.

True innovation in brewing is far rarer. Things like the adoption of the hydrometer and thermometer. Baudelot coolers. Refrigeration. Pure yeast cultures. Mash filters. Continuous fermentation. (It may have been a total disaster, but it was truly new.) Stuff that really hadn't been done before. And genuinely transformed brewing.

Most of what's called innovation today? Mere tinkering with ingredients. While change is inevitable, it's rarely innovation.

Off to Asia

Not an early start by any means. Our flight isn't until 17:30.

Wanting to get in some good lounge time, we get a cab to Schiphol around 1:30.

Luckily, Schiphol isn't too busy. We go directly to check in.

“How many bags can we check in?”

“One.”

It looks like Andrew will be lugging his bag around.

Then suddenly the KLM lady says: “You can check in a second bag, if you like.”

Where did that come from? Not that we’re complaining.

They’re still playing silly buggers about using priority security. Telling us we did to go through the non-priority bit. Grudgingly, they let Andrew through, “Just this once”.

Even passport control doesn’t have much of a queue. Unlike the last couple of times I’ve been through Schiphol.  I suppose because it’s a Sunday afternoon.

Andrew is travelling on his UK passport. And they’re about to stamp it until he shows them his Dutch ID card.

“Do you want anything from the duty free, Andrew?”

“No.” That’s a bit of a surprise. I’d been ready to get him a bottle of rum.

“Well, I do. Some hotel whisky.”

The Aberlour still isn’t too crazily expensive. The stuff I really like – Islay – is all way out of my price range. Damn the success of the Scottish whisky industry. Hopefully Brexit will fuck it up and bring the prices down.

The lounge isn't too busy, either. It's all good. I get myself a pair of whiskies and Andrew a beer. Then I get stuck into the food. The warm stuff doesn't look very appetising, so I stick to the cold: cheese, ham, various salad bits and bread. I fill myself up quite well. You never know how edible the meals on the plane will be. Safest to assume the worst.

“Go and get another round in, Andrew. A Jim Beam and a Teachers, please. No ice.”

He looks a little sheepish when he returns.

“I’m sorry, Dad. They’ve put ice in them.”

Oh well, just have to drink them quickly before the ice dilutes them too much.

We each go to the bar a few more times. And I load up with some more ham, cheese and salad. You can never have too much cheese.

Our gate isn’t far away. Pretty sure I can see our plane from where we sit.

I'm getting good at timing boarding. After a short walk to our gate, we walk straight onto the plane.

It's not full, which is great. The window seat isn’t occupied, so I sit there leaving an empty seat between me and Andrew.

The first meal is OK and I eat most of it. Soon after the lights go out. And I get stuck into some films. King of Staten Island, Locked Down, Half Brothers and some total shit. I finish with Frayed.

The flight heads due east. Over Germany, Rumania and then the Black Sea. Luckily, we don’t bump into any Russian warplanes.

I wisely invested in some miniatures of Jack Daniels in the duty free. They sustain me through the long night. Along with a few extra wines picked up from the galley.

A lot of the flight is over China. The first bit just barren desert. It looks very grey. Even when we get to obviously cultivated parts, there’s nothing in the way of green.

I don't bother with the breakfast. Other than a coffee and an orange juice. Something to perk me up and a few vitamins. That’s all I need.

We breeze through immigration, partly because we got a Qcode and so don't have to fill in the health form.

Our bags are some of the first off. Another win.

I didn't even try to sleep on the flight. Which was probably a mistake. I’m feeling pretty shattered when we hit the station around 13:00 where we buy train tickets. On the express train to Seoul Station. Whizzing through alternating concrete and countryside

Everything has gone without a hitch so far. Other than me being knackered.

Remembering how deep the airport express platforms are, we skip the multiple escalators and take the lift. To get to our hotel, we have to walk through the main KTX station. Where we try to get our tickets to Pohang for tomorrow.

Most of the ticket machines don't accept foreign credit cards. The couple that do, we can't get to work. So, we queue up at the ticket counter.

There's a bit of a queue. Knacked as I'm feeling, I can do without queueing. Luckily it doesn't take too long. Tickets in my pocket, we trek over the road to our hotel. Which is just a long enough walk to piss me off, what with dragging my luggage.

I'm on the 30th floor, Andrew on the 29th. Not sure why our rooms aren't closer together.

After getting our act together, we traipse downstairs to the convenience store. To get some bits and bobs. And beer for Andrew.

Back in my room, we just hang around and drink a little. I’m too tired to do much else.

Looking on my laptop, I notice there’s a gimbap (the Korean equivalent of sushi) close by. Though it’s not clear exactly which building it’s in. We go and look for it. Not very successfully. Instead, we go into another convenience store and get more provisions. There are two of the things within 50 metres of the hotel. Which is handy.

We laze away the evening with bee, whisky and TV. While occasionally looking at the trains flitting in and out of the KTX station.

It's low-key start to the trip.

Let's Brew - 1884 Mew Langton Porter

One of the big surprises of Mew Langton’s records was the amount of Porter they brewed. Outside of London and Ireland, Porter wasn’t that popular any more. Not sure why that was. Maybe the Isle of Wight was just a bit behind the times.

Mew’s Porter looks very similar to London-brewed versions, both in terms of gravity and recipe. For a start, there’s 10% brown malt. Most brewers outside London had dropped brown malt long before the 1880s, preferring a simple pale and black malt combination.

In addition to the malts, there’s a sugar described as “Natal”. I’ve assumed that’s some sort of raw cane sugar. Which seems reasonable enough.

The only real difference with a London Porter is the hopping, which is noticeably more restrained. Half of the hops were from Kent, the rest split between America and Bavaria. All from the 1883 crop. 

1884 Mew Langton Porter
pale malt	7.75 lb	68.13%
brown malt	1.125 lb	9.89%
black malt	0.75 lb	6.59%
brown sugar	1.75 lb	15.38%
Cluster 90 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	0.50 oz
Hallertau 30 mins	0.50 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.25 oz
OG	1055
FG	1013
ABV	5.56
Apparent attenuation	76.36%
IBU	41
SRM	30
Mash at	147º F
Sparge at	175º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	64º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1275 Thames Valley ale

Midlands Bitters in 1978

We're working our way south gradually. Taking a look a Bitters brewed in the Midlands.

Sadly, there aren't many from my neck of the woods, the East Midlands. Though I did drink most of these beers. Many when visiting my Mum's family in Birmingham.

The average score is pretty good at 9.3. The three poorest scoring beers - Brew XI, Worthington Best Bitter and Ansells Bitter - were all from Big Six breweries. Brew XI was renowned for being bland crap. Ansells Bitter wasn't great, either. But they weren't what most people were drinking in Birmingham. Mild was far more popular. It wasn't unusual for Ansells pubs to have cask Mild and keg Bitter. I don't blame anione for sticking to the Mild. It was a way better drink than the Bitter.

Despite the hype, I never cared for Ruddles County. Far too sweet and cloying for my taste. Batemans XXXB was much more to my liking. A beer which was parti-gyled with their standard Bitter.

You'll note that Pedigree appears twice. That's because both the journalists who sampled the beers tried it in different pubs and gave it different scores.

The average gravity and ABV are the highest we've seen, coming out at over 1040º and 4% ABV. As a result of a couple of the strongest Bitters that were analysed.

The average price is also higher. I would say as a result of the strong beers. But I don't have the prices for most of those. I'm surprised that Holdens and Simpkiss were so expensive. I thought that beer was cheap in the Black Country. The value for money score, at 1.19, is the worst we've seen so far. Slightly worse than the 1.20 of Scotland.

The rate of attenuation is again around 80%. I'm surprised at how consistent this is. As well as how high it is. 

Midlands Bitters in 1978
Brewer	Beer	Price	º gravity per p	% ABV per p	OG	FG	ABV	App. Atten-uation	score	Flavour
Ruddles	County				1048.9	1014.6	4.45	70.14%	10	Good, strong, powerful beer with hoppy flavour.
Bateman	XXXB	34	1.41	0.15	1047.8	1009.25	5.02	80.65%	9	Strong, heavily malted.
Marston	Pedigree				1042.7	1007.5	4.58	82.44%	9	Full bodied nutty flavour. Nice.
Marston	Pedigree				1042.2	1007.8	4.48	81.52%	12	A well flavoured smooth bitter. Superb.
Everards	Tiger	40	1.00	0.11	1040	1007.4	4.24	81.50%	10	Clean, strong, hoppy bitter.
Bass	Worthington E				1039.4	1008	4.08	79.70%	9	Full flavoured. Nice.
Holden	Bitter	34	1.13	0.12	1038.4	1007.3	4.04	80.99%	11	A nice clean tasty satisfying brew.
Mitchell & Butler	Brew XI	29	1.31	0.15	1038.1	1004.8	4.34	87.40%	6	A fizzy drink with little flavour.
Bass	Worthington Best Bitter	27	1.37	0.14	1036.9	1006.9	3.90	81.30%	8	Pleasant but on the "thin" side.
Simpkiss	Bitter	35	1.03	0.12	1036.2	1005	4.06	86.19%	11	This pale bitter has a clear "light bite."
Ansell	Bitter	34	1.06	0.10	1035.9	1008.7	3.53	75.77%	7	Bland, sweetish beer.
Average		33.3	1.19	0.13	1040.6	1007.9	4.25	80.69%	9.3
Source:
Sunday Mirror - Sunday 17 September 1978, pages 22 - 23.

Watering beer in 1959 (part six)

I should be in Pohang when you read this. Hopefully, with a beer in my hand and some spicy food in front of me.

We're almost all the way through these prosecutions. And here we are with a fresh excuse.

“NO PROOF"
WRIGHT MOSS, of the Artillery Arms, Lower Chatham-street, Manchester, pleaded not guilty, and his counsel, Mr G Spafford, submitted that the prosecution had not shown that the sample from the premses and the sample from the brewery were taken from the same brew.

Moss was fined £15 with five guineas costs.
Manchester Evening News - Friday 23 October 1959, page 32.

It wasn't from the same brew. That probably didn't fly for a simple reason: breweries produced beers to the same gravity every time. They didn't just swap around the gravity for no reason.

The excuse given in the final case is even weirder.

JOSEPH DETHICK, of the Black Mare Inn, Cannel-street, Ancoats, who pleaded guilty, was said to have had samples taken in November and March, and on each occasion the dilution was 4.4 per cent.

He told the Stipendiary that because of the hot weather and the little demand for bitter it quickly became cloudy and to “refine" it, he had introduced some lemonade.

The Stipendiary: But when your customers ask for beer you must not give beer and lemonade.

Dethick pointed out the premises were in a clearance area and were losing £5 per week.

He was fined £1 on the first summons and £5 on the second.
Manchester Evening News - Friday 23 October 1959, page 32.

How on earth would lemonade fine cloudy beer? Only if it was mixed with finings. But in that case, why not just dissolve the finings in beer? And wouldn't lemonade alter the flavour? Though, admittedly, the degree of watering was quite small. Which may explain why the fines were so much smaller than for the other cases. Also Dethick talks about "hot weather". But the samples were taken in March and November. Not exactly months where you expect tropical weather in Manchester.

It's interesting that this pub was in a clearance area, presumably meaning that most of the surrounding houses had been demolished. Which wouldn't have been great for trade.

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1940 Truman Stock 2

This is frustrating. While I understand exactly how Stock 1 was handled and what name it was sold under, I know next to nothing about Stock 2.

Intriguingly, I’ve no other brewing record for it. I’ve numbered Truman Ales for 1 right down to 8. Except for 2. My guess is that it was the first of Truman’s numbered range to be dropped. It’s sudden reappearance in 1940 must be connected to the war. Perhaps it was a weaker version of Barley Wine.

While the grist contains most of the elements found in Truman’s other beers, there are some differences. The most obvious being that Stock 2 was an all-malt beer. At least a non-adjunct beer. The flaked rice in all their other beers is absent here.

Just like Stock 1, it's insanely heavily hopped. Which is logical, as they were parti-gyled together. Around 5 lbs per barrel.Despite them being low-alpha acid English hops, that still leaves the calculated bitterness level just short of 100 IBU. 

1940 Truman Stock 2
pale malt	14.50 lb	71.60%
high dried malt	4.75 lb	23.46%
No. 3 invert sugar	1.00 lb	4.94%
Fuggles 150 mins	3.25 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	3.25 oz
Goldings 30 mins	3.25 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.50 oz
OG	1088.5
FG	1027.5
ABV	8.07
Apparent attenuation	68.93%
IBU	96
SRM	13
Mash at	155º F
Sparge at	160º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	58º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1028 London Ale (Worthington White Shield)