Flying home

I rise around 8 AM. And potter around in my room for a while before descending for breakfast.

I order bacon and eggs. What else would I have gone for.

“We don’t have breakfast potatoes. Will French fries be OK?”

“Sure.”

The eggs come out sunnyside up again. I definitely asked for over easy. I always do. Because that’s how I like my eggs. I’d make them that way at home, if I weren’t afraid of breaking the yolk when I flip them. It’s disappointing that in a hotel as posh as this they can’t get an egg order right.

On the menu, the breakfast is down at $15. But with a coffee and various other charges, it totals out at double that. This sort of thing really pisses me off. The menu price is pure fucking fantasy.

I hadn’t even bothered unpacking my large bag. Packing consists of little more than bundling up my laptop and ancillary bits.

I’m soon in a cab bouncing along the motorway. Which is, happily, much emptier than yesterday.

Checking in and security are a doddle. Though the repeated announcements to check your carry-on bags for guns are quite disconcerting.

I quickly nip into the duty free for some bourbon. I wouldn’t want to go home without any. I get a bottle of Buffalo Trace.

The Delta lounge is pretty good. With some decent hot and cold food. And drinks, obviously. Though some of the fancier drinks you have to pay for. I opt for Old Forrester, the free bourbon.

For some reason, I have trouble getting connected to the internet. When I eventually get in, I fire up the VPN to watch some Dutch TV.

The plates and cutlery are disposable. Which is a bit of a surprise in a lounge.

I don’t go crazy. Sticking to just four or five whiskies. Though they are very generous pours. I get some food to help soak it up. A sandwich. Then some barbecue pork. Which is rather nice.

When I get to the gate, they’re just about to board my group. Which is perfect.

I sleep, well doze, for most of the flight. Which gets in half an hour early, at 5:30. I roll up at home at around 6:30.

No cup of tea waiting for me, as Dolores is still in bed. Andrew is still up, though. I make some tea and take a cup upstairs to Dolores. Now there’s a novelty.
 

Atlanta (again)

It's my last full day in the US. So I allow myself a little lie in, rising only at 9.

Mike makes me a couple of fried eggs. Which I eat along with a bagel.

Needing to work at the brewery, Mike takes me out to the airport quite early.

There are gun warnings again before security. Not as many as at Atlanta. Still deemed necessary, though. Does that mean fewer guns here? Or just fewer people? Best not think about it too much.

It being a tiny airport, it doesn’t take long to get airside. How to fill the next couple of hours? I know: what about sitting in the bar?

I park my arse on a barstool and wonder what to order. Not really.

“A double Jack Daniels without ice, please.”

I get out my phone and message the family. Then start looking through the Guardian website. It passes the time.

The food isn’t too stupidly priced. An all-day breakfast is $15. I order one. It’s my second lot of fried eggs today. Just as well I like eggs.

“How much is a double whiskey?” I ask the barmaid. I don’t want to get caught out.

“Nineteen dollars.”

I’ll only be having the two, then.

It’s odd paying for drinks in an airport. It’s been quite a while since I last did it. I’d almost forgotten how fucking expensive it is. Almost.

The flight doesn’t take long. We’re in the air just 33 minutes. It’s cost me 5 euros per minute. Totally shit value.

With the little shuttle train to take the strain, there’s not much in the way of walking at Atlanta airport. Until I start looking for the taxi rank. Which is nowhere to be seen. Eventually I ask a security guard who points me in the right direction.

It’s around 5:30 PM. Not exactly the best time to be on the roads. Despite having seven lanes, the traffic stops and starts as we head into the centre. In most large US cities, the traffic seems to be terrible nowadays. I can’t understand why anyone puts up with it. I suppose they have no option, public transport being either crap or non-existent.

I’ve arranged to see Thomas Sjoberg at 18:30 in the Brick Store. But I’m not going to make that. It’s almost that time when I check into my hotel. I message Thomas to delay our meeting until 19:20.

Why have I arranged to meet in Brick Store, when I was there just last week? Because they have cask. And cask done properly. I really loved the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.

The route is straight along Ponce de Leon Avenue. A long section is lined by mansions, set back from the road and surrounded by massive, mature trees. It looks very posh.

Thomas is standing outside when I arrive. He’s only just got there. We troll up to the cask ale bar. And order two Sierra Nevada Pale Ales.

We chat about all things beer. Like Thomas’s brewing job and judging international competitions. And about living in the USA.

The waitress remembers me from last week. She’s very friendly and enthusiastic.

Thomas tries some other beers. I just stick with Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. It’s dead good and when will I find it on cask again? It’s so drinkable. I could drink it all night. Which is exactly what I do.

We leave at about 10 PM. My Ethiopian cab driver is dead into English football. Unfortunately, he’s an Arsenal fan.

“Everyone hates Arsenal. They’re the New York Yankees of football.” I tell him/

I’m feeling a little peckish when I get back. The hotel’s restaurant has closed. And the Subway, where I got a sandwich last week is shut, too. About the only place open in Cook Out. A sort of barbecue place.

I order a wrap, onion rings and a cola. It’s stupid cheap, at just $7. It fills a hole. Being about exactly the right amount of food.

I don’t stay up too late. Even though I’ll be in no rush tomorrow, my flight not being until 15:20.

Whiskey is on hand to take my hand and lead me to glorious oblivion.




Brick Store Pub
125 E Court Square,
Decatur,
GA 30030.
https://www.brickstorepub.com/
 

Let's Brew - 1915 Courage Double Stout

At the start of WW I, typical London pub would have had two Black beers on draught: Porter and Stout. With the latter still worthy of its original meaning of ”strong”.

All three of Courage’s Black Beers, Porter, Double Stout and Imperial Stout, were parti-gyled together. As was typical in London. Which leaves all three with a very high percentage of roasted malts. Hence the extremely dark colours.

A fairly decent hopping rate of 7.25 lbs per quarter (336 lbs) leaves this beer quite bitter at (calculated) 43 IBU. Though all those roasted malts would have added even more bitterness. It sounds just like my type of beer. 

1915 Courage Double Stout
pale malt	10.25 lb	58.57%
brown malt	3.50 lb	20.00%
black malt	1.75 lb	10.00%
No. 2 invert sugar	2.00 lb	11.43%
Fuggles 90 mins	2.25 oz
Goldings 30 mins	2.25 oz
OG	1078
FG	1025
ABV	7.01
Apparent attenuation	67.95%
IBU	43
SRM	51
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	165º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	64º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

Tennessee!

It's almost nine when I rise. Heavy rain having disrupted nature's alarm clock.

The early part of the day is free. I fiddle on my computer for a while, writing stuff like this.

At 3 PM Mike and I climb into his truck and set off over the mountains to Johnson City. The drive through the Appalachians is stunning. We're surrounded by sharp slopes splattered with dollops of lizard green. Forest stretching endlessly on every side, punctuated only by the odd house and the strip of motorway we're hurtling down.

The slope is quite steep. Which is why, I suppose, there are runaway truck ramps every few miles. Their frequency suggests runaway trucks aren’t exactly a rarity. Not sure whether I should be reassured that they’re there, or worried that they’re needed.

I wouldn’t want an out-of-control lorry hurtling up behind us. Best not think about it too much. Like so much else.

I spot a couple of goats seemingly glued to a cliff. That's not a sight you often see in Holland.

Once we're over the top, we enter a flat valley, bounded by lower, rounder humps of foliage. Passing through small settlements where churches almost outnumber houses. (And many of those houses are clearly based around a trailer.) Token white spires reach inches into the sky.

Johnson City is the first proper town to cross our path this side of the mountains. With a quaint downtown. That is eerily deserted. We park beside Little Animals and hunk our gear inside.

Owner Chris Cates and Dewayne of Ebb and Flow in Missouri are waiting for us. With beer.

Things kick off with a bottle share. Mike has brought along some of his Tardis Series beers. Including a rather lovely Truman Imperial Stout that's brimming with liquorice flavour. Yum. And an 18th-century style Porter, brewed from 100% diastatic brown malt he made himself. That’s pretty good, too.

The first Black Sabbath album is playing. Not heard it in years. Sounding pretty good.

Brewers continue arriving and opening bottles. I've soon half a dozen samples in front of me. Mostly Brett beers. This is fun. If starting to get tiring. Palate-wise, at least.

Chris has barbecued a pork shoulder. Others have brought potato salad, corn bread and other sides. Soon I'm tucking into real southern fare. For the first time on the trip, though I've been here for over a week. The pork is dead good. What could be wrong with homemade barbecue pork?

When we've finished our nosh, the room starts to fill up. There are around 50 people, mostly professional brewers. Before I know it, it's showtime.

My talk goes pretty well. I get some laughs. Quite a few, really. All at the right times, I might add. And the crowd seems to enjoy it. Feeling pretty tired, I’m glad when the questions are over.

Then, the serious business of shifting books begins.

I've fourteen left, mostly "Scotland!", Which isn’t hugely appropriate for my talk today. With a few "AK!" and "Stout!" as well. I not only sell all of them, but could have easily got rid of more copies of "AK!" and "Stout!". Dolores will be delighted.

I sit at a table with Mike, Whit from Burning Blush and a couple of other bearded brewers. I plonk down the four or five glasses I have and let out a sigh. That’s my work done for this trip.

I'm feeling exhausted. It's been a busy ten days and I'm really feeling it. I drink a little beer but I’m really glad when Mike asks if I'm ready to leave at 21:30.

The drive back is quicker. Probably because the road is quieter. Sadly, the scenic landscape is veiled in darkness.

I go straight to bed on our return. Totally drained, I drift off to sleep immediately.



Little Animals Brewery
324 E Main St,
Johnson City,
TN 37601.
http://littleanimalsbrewery.com/

Diatribe

Having gone to bed quite early yesterday, I rise a little earlier, at 8 AM.

After some fiddling with the internet, I roll downstairs around 10:30. Gabe cooks me cheesy scrambled egg and a toasted bagel. A tasty start to the day.

Mike heads off to the brewery while I hang around for a while. At about 12:30 Gabe gives me a lift to Diatribe. It's easily within walking distance. Or would be if I didn't have a ton of books to take with me.

Betty must have seen me arriving, as she comes out to give me a hand with all my stuff.

Some of which - like my laptop - I needn't have bothered bringing. As everything is already set up. Not only is there a laptop and projector rigged up, the powerpoint is already powered up. All I'll need to do is start talking.

Things don't kick off until 14:00, leaving plenty of time for a few beers. I plonk my fat arse on a bar stool and get myself a beer: American IPA. Is this the first IPA I've had this trip? (Other than the 1941 BP IPA I had at Zebulon.) I think it may well be. 

Hang on, no it isn’t. I’ve already drunk at least three or four IPAs. What’s happening to my memory?

I have a bit of a chat with Dave Byer as the crowd starts to drift in and I beer myself up a bit in preparation.

The talk kicks off a little after 14:00. And seems to go really well. Dave has brewed six historic 80/- recipes and one based on the current BJCP guidelines. Betty bustles around, distributing the beers.

1852 William Younger 80/-, 6.5% ABV, 72 IBU
1898 William Younger 80/-, 4.6% ABV, 54 IBU
1924 Thomas Usher 80/- MA, 4.3% ABV, 21 IBU
1931 Thomas Usher Stout 80/-, 3% ABV, 18 IBU
1933 P80/-, 3.9% AV, 31 IBU
1957 Robert Younger 80/-, 3.9% ABV, 22 IBU
BJCP Scottish Export 80/-, 4.1% ABV, 22 IBU

When my talking is done, I go into book-selling mode. Which goes reasonably well. People paying through a combination of cash and PayPal. I shift all of the copies of “Porter!”, which is pleasing. They’ve been clogging up Mike’s house for a few years. And I get rid of the last couple of copies of “Blitzkrieg!”.

I really like the 1851 William Younger 80/-. It’s very drinkable, despite its 6.5% ABV and 72 IBU. Malty up front and balancingly bitter at the back end. I get through multiple pints.

Several people come up for a chat. Including Jim and Sally who have been at all three of my talks in North Carolina. I get a chance to have a longer conversation with them today.

A little before 8 PM Dave comes over. And tells me that Mike has called to say that he's back home. That's my cue to leave. Luckily, I've sold enough books that I can fit everything into my backpack. With which I trundle down the road.

The rest of the evening is very low-key. We have some food and, after a bit of a chat with Gabe, I turn in.




Diatribe Brewing Co.
1042 Haywood Rd,
Asheville,
NC 28806.
https://diatribebrewing.com/
 

Let's brew Wednesday - 1915 Courage Porter

You may have noticed that I publish a lot of recipes from the period 1880 - 1914. There's a good reason for that. It's the other book I'm working on in the background, "Free!, which covers that period.

The manuscript is currently just shy of 100,00 words and is 382 pages. It's maybe 40% done. But a big chunk that still needs to be completed are the recipes. This is number 200. The finished book will probably have at least double that. So I'm chipping away at them when I can.

A year of war hadn’t really affected Courage Porter much. It still had a gravity of 1050º and a decent ABV. Sadly, that wouldn’t last for much longer.

While pretty much dead in the rest of the country, Porter was still very much a mainstream beer in London. Something you’d expect to find on draught in every pub. By 1939, given the tiny quantities brewed, it could only have been available in a handful of pubs.

It has the classic London Porter combination of pale, brown and black malt. Topped off with a little sugar. With over 30% roasted grains, it’s no wonder that the colour is pretty damn dark. A lot darker than the style guidelines specify. But what the fuck do they know?

The hops are a bit of a guess. All I know is that they were English from the 1913 and 1914 harvests. 

1915 Courage Porter
pale malt	6.50 lb	58.43%
brown malt	2.25 lb	20.22%
black malt	1.125 lb	10.11%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.25 lb	11.24%
Fuggles 90 mins	1.50 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.50 oz
OG	1050
FG	1015
ABV	4.63
Apparent attenuation	70.00%
IBU	35
SRM	38
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	165º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	64º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

Weaverville!

I rise a little later today. Almost nine. And have a quick shower and a shave.

I've nothing much on today, other than hanging around in Zebulon.

After a quick morning coffee, Mike whisks me off to Zebulon. Pausing only to drop by the supermarket to get sandwiches for lunch.

While Mike sets up the taproom, I sip on a 1943 Tetley Mild. Which is pretty similar to the version I knew and loved from the 1970s and 1980s. It’s a good start to the day. The drinking day, I mean.

As soon as he opens the doors at 1 PM, punters start drifting in. Where they can groove on down to the 1940s music being played. Not that much grooving of any sort goes in any direction.

I'm working my way through the beers. I only sampled a couple of them before today. I try to do them in a logical order. Following up Tetley Mild with Tetley Bitter. Which is also very nice.

I’m tempted to order a pint of mixed. Just because I can. There must have been drinkers who chose that back in the war. When they wanted something posher than Mild, but didn’t want to splash out for straight Bitter.

I've set myself up with my books next to the bar. To my (and Dolores's, no doubt) joy, I manage to sell a few copies. Weirdly, I shift all the copies of "Porter!" I have, but none of the "Stout!". Even the expensive hardback copies go.

About 2 PM Chris Lackner turns up and spirits me off to his Air BnB in Asheville for an interview. He has a pretty professional setup with lights and everything. It takes about an hour.

Back at Zebulon, I'm back in book-selling and chatting mode. I flog a few more books. Which is pleasing.

Whitbread Double Brown is, as always, a treat. Malty and full. With some balancing bitterness. I’ve had several different vintages brewed by various brewers. All were crackers.

A variety of people wander up. Either to buy books or just to talk. I’m a sociable chap. Perfectly happy to talk to anyone. Especially about beer.

Trying Perry Porter and Barclay Perkins Best Stout back-to-back is a revelation. The Perry, which is just pale and lots of black malt is intensely roasty. While the Barclay Perkins, with quite a lot of brown malt in addition to black, is softer and more nuanced, with a cocoa-like character.

What’s the revelation? The difference between London and Irish Porter.

By the time 7 PM rolls around, I've tried all the beers. And enjoyed every one. Not that it's a surprise. Mike is a very skilful brewer.

Mike cooks spaghetti when we get back to his place. I don't stay up much longer. Feeling kanckered once again.




Zebulon Artisan Ales
8 Merchants Alley,
Weaverville,
NC 28787.
http://www.zebulonbrewing.com/
 

Sierra Nevada

I rise at 8:30 again. I need to be up quite early as Doug Piper is picking me up at ten.

Doug rolls around as arranged. I climb into his truck and we head off to Mills River. And Sierra Nevada. Where we have an appointment with brewer Seth Hewett at 11:00.

The approach to the brewery is dead impressive. A winding road through wooded hills. We park in front of the brewery and, as we're a little early for our appointment, I snap a few photos of the exterior.

Seth arrives and guides us inside. Where we start at the water room. I'm surprised to discover that there are three wells which are used for brewing water. And that it's only when these are low that city water is used.

Most of the malt is stored outside in massive silos. The grain arrives by rail at their own siding a few miles away and then is trucked up to the brewery. Malt which is used in smaller quantities is kept in the malt room. It comes from a variety of sources, including Simpsons and Weyerman.

Also in the malt room are the salts used for water treatment, which varies according to the stye of the beer. There's also pectin for their hazy IPA.

Immediately on entering the chilled hop room my nose is assaulted by wonderful aromas. Stainless steel bins contain compressed bales of whole leaf hops. I'm impressed that they've stuck with hop cones. Though they do also use some lupulin.

The brewhouse is so impressive. It's a six-vessel system, mostly of dazzling copper. Though, inside the copper cladding, stainless steel vessels are concealed. The copper skins were all bought from German breweries.

The fermentation room is surprisingly uncluttered, as the conical fermenters rest on a ceiling rather than having legs. All operations such as cleaning and venting are performed via a series of fancy valves, each fermenter having their own set

Walking through the control room, we get to the plate filter, which is used for draught Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and the Lagers in order to get them crystal clear. The other beers only go through a centrifuge.

Finally, we get to look at the two open fermenters, which are currently empty.

Tour done, we go to the taproom for lunch. It's pretty busy, but we find two seats at the end of a long table. I order a Maibock and a crispy pork belly sandwich. Both are pretty good.

I notice that there's what looks like a brewhouse in one corner. Doug explains that it's a 20-barrel brewhouse to supply the taproom. Beer from the main brewery would need to go through a distributor. What crazy rules they have in the US.

Fed, it's time for videoing. Where Doug and I discuss the development of IPA. While sampling a few Sierra Nevada beers and Orval.

We have another brewery appointment. At Burning Blush, which isn't far away. It's in a big, boxy warehouse, brewery at the rear, taproom at the front. We enter through the brewery, where we meet Whit, the brewer. Chris P is waiting for us in the taproom.

On the brewer's suggestion, I start with an Altbier. Which is dark and malty.

We chat about various topics. As you do over beers. My second being a Doppelbock. Which is dead good. My third is an English IPA, which I'm not so wild about. But I'm given a sample of a Hazy IPA to go with it. Which I'm shocked to discover I actually quite like. Tropical fruit aromas leap from the glass. And it has a reasonable degree of bitterness. Extremely drinkable.

Mmm. What's happening? I really liked the Hazy Little Thing at Sierra Nevada, too. I'm becoming what I despise. I suppose that happens to us all, eventually.

Whit studied brewing in Sunderland. And went to the Stadium of Shite. Then again, so did I. I won’t hold it against him.

We can't stay too long as I want to get to Zebulon before it closes at 7.

Arriving at a couple of minutes after seven, it's still pretty busy and they are still serving. I get myself a Youngers No. 1. Which is rather nice.

The taproom slowly empties out and Gabe and Mike clear up. I can see that Mike is really struggling with his foot. I feel really sorry for him having to be on his feet all day.

Mike drives me back to his place and starts cooking a curry. While I drink Laphroaig.

It's a pretty good curry. After we've eaten, we sit and chat for a while. Without making it too late. I'm feeling pretty knacked again.




Sierra Nevada
100 Sierra Nevada Way,
Fletcher,
NC 28732.
https://sierranevada.com/



Burning Blush Brewery
4891 Boylston Hwy,
Mills River,
NC 28759.
https://burningblush.com/

Blitzkrieg!

I rise a little later, close to 9 AM. Because, well, there's no pressing need to get up early. After a shower, I head downstairs for coffee. Which is what I need to kickstart my day.

I'll need all my strength for today's event: Blitzkrieg at Zebulon.

Some time I spend fiddling on my flipflop. Then, smelling bacon, I go downstairs. Mike has made scrambled eggs and bacon. Which is exactly what I need.

We hang around for a while on the back porch. Drinking some of his Leichtbier, a very tasty low-strength amber Lager.

At around 15:30, we drive over to Zebulon to set up for the evening. I say we, it's Mike who does all the work.

There are eight WW II beers on draught:

1941 Barclay Perkins IPA, 3.3% ABV
1943 Tetley Bitter, 4.2% ABV
1943 Tetley Mild, 3.2% ABV
1940 Younger's No. 1, 7,3% ABV
1945 Fullers BBBurton Ale, 4.5% ABV
1943 Whitbbread Double Brown, 5% ABV
1943 Perry Irish Porter, 3.8% ABV
1941 Barclay Perkins Best Stout, 4.4% ABV

People start rolling in a little before 17:00. For the VIP tasting. Which starts with Mike's Rise and Fall of Porter box set. Followed by the beers I brought over: 1990 Matilda Bay Christmas Ale, 1994 Witte Kerst, mystery beer, 2006 Fullers Vintage Ale, 1991 Westvleteren 12, 1993 Courage Russian Stout.

The Matilda Bay has held up pretty well and is still fully carbed Witte Kerst hasn't fared quite so well. The mystery beer is rather oxidised. Vintage Ale is wonderfully complex and still totally drinkable. The Westvleteren has lost all its bitterness and tastes rather more like Abt than when fresh. The Russian Stout is, well, Russian Stout. Need I say more?

Punters for the main event start filtering in while the tasting is still going on. Rather a lot of them. It's a good turnout. But a bit chaotic.

Gabe is behind the bar, dressed 1940s style. She looks dead cool. Forties music is playing, punctuated occasionally by air raid sirens. Mike and Gabe are really setting the wartime mood.

“What would you like to drink, Ron?”

“A Scotch Ale, please.” I need something to fortify me for all the talking to come.

The Scotch is really good. Quite sweet, but not sickly. Quite caramelly. Considering the strength (7.3% ABV), it’s surprisingly drinkable. Quite dangerously so.

The audience is better behaved than yesterday. There are also fewer questions while I'm speaking. It seems to go pretty well and I get a good few laughs.

Once the talking is done, I park my fat arse next to a pile of my books. I manage to get rid of a good few, while chatting to a succession of audience members. Weirdly, I sell more copies of “Stout!” than I did yesterday. And more copies than I shift of “Blitzkrieg!”. The book that goes with today’s talk.

As the crowd gradually thins out, I feel more and more knacked. I'm totally done in by the time the last one drifts away around 10 PM.

Gabe locks up and drives us back to her house. I'm so tired I turn down Mike's offer of a beer and turn straight in.




Zebulon Artisan Ales
8 Merchants Alley,
Weaverville,
NC 28787.
http://www.zebulonbrewing.com/

Let's Brew - 1914 Courage X

At the start of WW I, London Milds were still powerful beasts, clocking in at over 5% ABV. Though the war would end up emasculating them forever.

The most notable aspect of the grist is the absence of any type of adjunct. Something which leaves them standing out from the cast majority of UK brewers, who used some type of unmalted grain. Usually in the form of flaked maize.

Otherwise, the grist is pretty simple. Just pale, crystal and a tiny dab of black malt. The latter is slightly unusual in a Mild Ale of this period. And is presumably there principally for colour. As is the sugar. Though the type of sugar isn’t specified. No. 3 invert is just my guess.

There are three types of hops: English from the 1912 and 1914 harvests along with Hallertau from 1912. The latter is quite amusing, as this beer was brewed in October 1914, a few months after the start of the war.

1914 Courage X
pale malt	9.75 lb	82.28%
crystal malt 60 L	0.75 lb	6.33%
black malt	0.10 lb	0.84%
No. 3 invert sugar	1.25 lb	10.55%
Fuggles 120 mins	0.75 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	0.75 oz
Hallertau 30 mins	0.75 oz
OG	1055
FG	1015
ABV	5.29
Apparent attenuation	72.73%
IBU	26
SRM	15.5
Mash at	151º F
Sparge at	181º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

 

Old Fort

I rise around 8 again. And have a quick shower and shave. I want to look my best for my first event this evening.

While sipping coffee, I browse through Modern Lager Beer. Which seems to be pretty well-researched. And I'm one of their references, which is always a good sign.

We head east to Whaley Farm Brewery at about 4 PM. It's only 30 minutes away, but I start nodding off. Despite it being quite scenic. Especially the second half, where the motorway clings to the side of a steep, tree-drenched slope, twisting in its descent to Old Fort. Occasionally slicing through the naked rock.

Old Fort is a tiny, dry town, where many of the homes are trailers. Not the most obvious place for a craft brewery. Yet Whaley Farm isn’t the only one.

It's much hotter here than in Asheville. Which makes sense, as we’re much lower.  Luckily, we aren't outside for long. Inside it's nice and cool.

We're welcomed by the always friendly Chris Whaley. His resting face is a massive grin. He immediately gets me a beer. An 1805 Barclay Perkins Brown Stout. Very nice it is, too. Not as pale as I had imagined, knowing it’s 40% brown, 60% pale malt.

Chris has brewed six beers for the event. All old Stout recipes, obviously. Two are being served on beer engines, the other four by gravity. It's an impressive lineup.

Chris Lackner, who has driven down from New York, arrives to do some videoing. He’s going to be at several of my events over the next few days.

There's quite a bit of fiddling to get the projector rigged up. As Gabe's laptop doesn't have an HDMI connection. We have to get a computer from Chris.

All forty tickets have been sold, leaving no spare seats once the crowd has trundled in. It's quite an old bunch, for the most part. With a majority not far off my age.

Jess scampers around making sure everyone is served with the first beer: 1805 Barclay Perkins Pale Stout. Which I'm delighted to sample, never having tried it before. It's pretty tasty, too. If not at all like what you’d expect a Stout to be.

The full lineup is:

1805 Barclay Perkins Pale Stout, 7.3% ABV. 6 SRM
1805 Barclay Perkins Brown Stout, 6.2% ABV, 28 SRM
1840 Keeping Porter, 8% ABV, 30 SRM
1899 Barclay Perkins Brown Stout, 7.3% ABV, 43 SRM
1925 Barclay Perkins Oatmeal Stout, 6.2% ABV, 32 SRM
1947 Barclay Perkins Imperial Brown Stout, 3.2% ABV, 38 SRM

The last one is fun. A session Imperial Stout. I just love the concept. (All except the 1840 feature in my book "Stout!".)

The talk goes pretty well. Apart from a group who keep chatting amongst themselves. A lot of questions mean that it takes a bit longer than usual: over an hour rather than 45 minutes. Not that it matters. It's not like I have to rush off somewhere else.

When the talking is done, I sell a few books. Though, weirdly, only two copies of "Stout!" The book that goes with the lecture. Experience has taught me that books sales are totally unpredictable. Which books – and how many of them people want – I find impossible to work out. I’m just happy when I get rid of a decent number.

I go and sit at the bar when everyone interested has bought books. And I get to eat some of the oysters that went with the talk. Yum! Oysters and Stout. A classic 19th-century combination.

Chris gives me some of his other beers to try. First is a powerful Barley Wine. It has the oomph I need to liven me up. The talk having really knackered me.

I have a chat with the bloke videoing me. Who drove all the way from New York. That sounds like fun.

The crowd gradually drifts away and soon it's just the staff, me, Mike and Gabe. It's a bit after nine when we finish our beer and head off into the night.

Back at Mike's, he pours me and him a pint of his Pilsner. Mike thinks it's too hoppy. It tastes fine to me.

We don't stay up too late. It's a little before midnight when we wend our weary way to bed. With no whisky helper.




Whaley Farm Brewery
178 Catawba Ave,
Old Fort,
NC 28762.
http://whaleyfarmbrewery.com/

 

A book for D Day

What could go better with D Day than a book about brewing in WW II? Exactly. Two books about brewing in WW II.

Even if I say so myself, it's pretty groovy stuff.

Get your copy now!

The second volume contains the recipes. But not just that. There are also overviews of some of the breweries covered, showing their beers at the start and the end of the conflict.

Buy one now and be the envy of your friends!

Both covers are courtesy Russell Gibbon, one of my readers.

 

 

 

To Asheville

I rise at 8:00, have a shower and then go downstairs for breakfast.

Not feeling that hungry, I go for a modest breakfast of two eggs and toast. It's about as much as I feel like eating. I ask for over easy. But they come out sunnyside up. That’s rather disappointing. Especially given the price.

I check out at just before 11:00 and get an Uber to the airport.

They really want you to get the message at Atlanta airport. Warnings about no firearms are on the floor. Announcements regularly boom out the same theme. There are even rotating holograms to really hammer it home: no firearms in security.

If so many warnings are needed, how often has someone just wandered up to security with an arsenal in their carry on? Obviously, very often. And it probably still happens. Quite often. Best not think about it too much. Like many things in the US.

I drop by a bar once airside. It's really odd having to pay for drinks in an airport. I'm so used to lounge access. A double Jack Daniels is $20. I only have the one. I’m not made of money, just flab and bile. And spend my time looking at the Guardian website on my phone.

What am I becoming? One of those annoying people who stare at their phone all day. In my defence, I only carry my phone with me when I’m travelling.

The flight is really short: we're only in the air 35 minutes. Yet it cost me over 300 euros. Totally extortionate.

Asheville airport is pretty small. From the carousel, where my bag quickly flops out, it’s only a few metres to the pickup point outside.

After 10 minutes or so Mike rolls up in his truck and whisks me back to his house, where I'm staying.

“Would you like a beer, Ron?”

Would I like a beer? Of course I would. Mike disappears down into the basement and returns with two dimpled mugs frothing with Stout. An XX Stout. Just my sort of thing.

After a couple of beers, we head to Diatribe, which is literally only just around the corner. We sit outside with owner Dave and discuss the brewing scene in Asheville. About which Mike is pretty pessimistic. He reckons there will be far fewer breweries in ten years’ time. Maybe only a dozen or so in the Asheville area.

I start with an American Porter, which is pretty tasty. Porter is one the styles that seems to have really gone out of fashion in the USA. Like Brown Ale. Though maybe not quite as bad. Brown Ale being pretty much totally extinct.

A couple of others join as we relax in the evening sunshine. And I get myself a Coffee Stout. Which isn't too crazy, thankfully. I'm just happy to see some dark beers on the menu.

We only stay for a couple. Then go off in search of tacos. Except everywhere has closed. Despite only being 9 PM. Instead, we dine on leftover pizza. Which is fine.

I don't make it late, turning in at 11 or so. No whisky to lull me to sleep tonight, sadly.




Diatribe Brewing Co.
1042 Haywood Rd,
Asheville,
NC 28806.
https://diatribebrewing.com/

 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1975 Youngs Old Nick

Sometime between 1970 and 1975, Youngs dropped their Celebration Ale and replaced it with Old Nick. A pretty similar beer, except with a slightly higher gravity. Still being parti-gyled with Best Malt Ale, the grist remained much the same.

Which means that it’s mostly pale malt, with a touch of crystal malt and flaked maize. Like a typical Mild recipe, which is no surprise. As that’s what it is. The sugars are, again, a combination of Flosweet and DAS. But no CDM.

CDM does appear in the brewing record. But it was all added to the second copper. And Old Nick was 100% first wort, along with a little water to hit the right gravity.

Two types of English hops, as always. Without any indication of variety or harvest year. 

1975 Youngs Old Nick
pale malt	12.25 lb	68.06%
crystal malt 60 L	1.75 lb	9.72%
flaked maize	1.75 lb	9.72%
malt extract	0.50 lb	2.78%
No. 3 invert sugar	1.75 lb	9.72%
Fuggles 105 min	2.00 oz
Goldings 15 min	2.00 oz
OG	1084
FG	1024
ABV	7.94
Apparent attenuation	71.43%
IBU	32
SRM	18
Mash at	149º F
Sparge at	180º F
Boil time	105 minutes
pitching temp	59º F
Yeast	WLP002 English Ale

Back to Atlanta

I rise around 8:30. After a quick shower, I go for some hotel breakfast.

Two eggs, two rashers of bacon and tomato. It's not a huge breakfast. Then again, I'm not hugely hungry. I wash it down with a coffee and orange juice. Got to keep up the caffeine and vitamin intake.

It’s really reminding me of the breakfast place in my hotel in Silver Spring, the last time I was in the USA. Is it the same chain? Probably.

After checking out, I wander down to Good Word to meet Todd. We have a bit of a chat until it’s time for me to return to Atlanta. He gets me an Uber, which whisks me off to the Brick Store pub in Decatur. Where I’m meeting one of the owners, Dave.

It's not open, but there are various staff preparing for the week ahead. Dave takes me upstairs to the cask beer bar where we settle down and get a couple of pints. Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. t's rather nice, with a soft texture and massive depth of flavour. Dead drinkable, too.

The cask ale bar is a cosy area at the top of the stairs, with the much larger Belgian beer bar just past it. A set of four beer engines stands proudly on the bar. The walls are covered in UK-related memorabilia. With pride off place given to a portrait of Michael Jackson (the beer writer, not the kiddie fiddler). There are also portraits of John Lydon and Joe Strummer.

Dave shows me the cellar, which is a cooled room directly behind the bar. As well as the casks, there are rows of ageing beers, like Hardy Ale. It’s an impressive setup. And a demonstration of their commitment to cask.

This is dead pleasant. Drinking good cask and talking all things beer.

“Would you like some food?”

“Sure.”

One of the chefs has made a Chinese-style stew for the staff. We both get stuck into it.

A couple of hours pass as we chat and work our way through the cask offerings. Creature Comforts Dark Mild is the second beer. Which is also pretty nice. We finish up with Green Bench Dry Irish Stout.

After a couple of hours, Dave drives me over to New Realm. Where I'm meeting up with Mitch Steele.

Mitch arrives after a couple of minutes. We sit at the bar where I get myself an Agave IPA. Which is clear and bitter. Like IPA used to be. I do like an old-fashioned, bitter IPA. A style which seems to have rather fallen out of fashion. The fate of every style, eventually.

We talk about beer trends. And a topic we've discussed before: the lack of preservation of craft beer brewing records. I fear that someone doing my type of research into American beer in 30 or 40 years’ time will get very frustrated. At the sheer lack of hard evidence.

My next beer is Irish Dry Stout. Which is, er, dry and roasty. I’m just happy to come across a Stout that isn’t either full of weird crap or served on nitro. Or both.

It’s always good chatting with Mitch. He’s a fun bloke and extremely knowledgeable. A great combination.

I don't get long with Mitch as he's doing a podcast later. He gives me a lift to my hotel. Where I check in and lay about my hotel whisky.

Feeling a little peckish, I head off out. As it’s after 9 PM, pretty much everything is shut. Spotting a Subway, I get myself a sarnie. Only a six inch, as I’m not ravenous, just a bit hungry. It’s pretty OK. Slightly surprisingly. Especially with a shitload of jalapenos.

I don't stay up too late. Lots of stuff to do tomorrow.




Brick Store Pub
125 E Court Square,
Decatur,
GA 30030.
https://www.brickstorepub.com/



New Realm Brewing Co.
550 Somerset Terrace NE #101,
Atlanta,
GA 30306.
https://newrealmbrewing.com/atlanta/

 

AK in Duluth

I get up around 9 and do some pottering. Before checking at 11. Which is when Todd of Good Word is picking me up.

When he hasn't arrived by 11:20 I start getting paranoid. Did I give him the address of the right hotel? I quickly fire up my laptop and see an email from him. He's been delayed by traffic.

I shouldn’t really be surprised. The roads in Atlanta always seem to be clogged. Even on Sunday, which it is today.

We have a good chat on the way to Duluth. Which takes a while as the traffic is still bad. Is it just me, or is traffic in US cities continually worsening? Or is it just because I so rarely travel on motorways? I try not to pay much attention to the cars weaving around us.

I go straight to the brewery while Todd drops off my luggage at the hotel.

Arse parked at the bar, I order an AK. One which Todd has brewed to go with the event tonight. It's rather nice and quite bitter. (The recipe is in my book "AK! History of a Light Bitter"). I like it enough to get a second. And a third.

I really like the Good Word taproom. With its massive windows and high ceiling, it’s wonderfully bright and airy. Today it’s bustling with brunchers.

After a while I get some food: two eggs and bacon. Served separately. So, sort of a breakfast. After another beer or two, I walk over to my hotel for a bit of a rest. I want to be at my best for tonight.

It’s not far. Just across the little park stretching out in front of the city hall. The weather is pretty hot, though. And the sun blazing down. Leaving me pretty warm by the time I get to the hotel. Despite being luggage-free.

I retrieve my bags and retreat to my room. Which is enormous.

The hotel is far nicer than yesterday’s. Though I’m also only here for one night. My first three nights are all in different hotels. Not perfect, but unavoidable.

I wander back to the brewery a little after 5 PM. Things are supposed to kick off at 5:30. There’s no projector and screen, which is a bit of a problem. Meaning it’s just me talking, with no visuals. Not perfect.

There are also diners sitting nearby. Which is a bit weird. Not sure what they make of my spiel about English Light Bitter.

Considering the circumstances, it goes pretty well. Not a huge crowd, but they mostly seem to be professional brewers. Including Mitch Steele. With whom I have a brief chat.

Book sales go pretty well, considering the size of the crowd. I shift ten books. Half “AK!”, half “Vintage Beer”. Dolores will be pleased. Let’s hope sales at my other events go equally as well.

I sit outside with Todd and his family. I drink more beer and eat some food (chicken livers). It’s not the largest meal. Rather nice, though. According to Todd, that’s what I ordered last time I was here.

After we've eaten, Todd asks:

"Do you like bourbon?"

"Yes."

He disappears and brings us both back a measure of Eagle Rare. It's rather nice. When I tell him how much Andrew likes bourbon, he gives me a bottle to take home.

I don't make it too late, heading back to my hotel at 9 PM. Where whisky awaits me. And hurries me to sleep.




Good Word Brewing
3085 Main St,
Duluth,
GA 30096.
https://goodwordbrewing.com/

Georgia on my mind

With my flight at 13:00, I leave home at 9:45. Got to make sure I have some decent lounge time.

First call is at a mobile phone shop to get a sim for the US. It doesn't take long. Bizarrely, I get is a UK one. It has data for the USA, so it doesn’t really matter. The nice lady in the shop is happy to install it for me.

Security and passport control are a doddle and soon I'm in the duty free getting a bottle of Tomatin. It being about the cheapest single malt. I get half a dozen miniatures for the flight, too.

After that, it's straight to the lounge for my traditional brace of whiskies. Followed by a bit of breakfast - scrambled egg, mushrooms and sausages. Followed by a few more whiskies. All standard stuff.

As you never know what the meals on the plane will be like, I go for a second round of food. A cheese sandwich and some slices of cheese. You can never have too much cheese. Or free whisky.

It's not far to my gate, it being on F pier. They've just started boarding when I get there. I waltz straight on. Which is exactly how I try to time things.

When I checked in yesterday I had only 6 seat options. Mostly crap centre seats. The only aisle option was directly behind a bulkhead. At least it made sure I had decent legroom.

The flight isn't too terrible. I watch a few films (starting with a Korean one) and surreptitiously drink my miniatures. The food isn't too awful. I'm so done with KLM food. It's always the same couple of meals. Which weren't that nice the first time I had them.

Not sure what the Russian bloke sat next to me is up to. For large chunks of the flight, he’s out of his seat. Wandering free somewhere, I suppose. I’m not complaining. I get more room.

We arrive on time and the queues for immigration aren't too bad. My bag soon pops out onto the carousel. It's all going swimmingly so far.

There's a bit of a queue for a taxi. But nothing too crazy. Soon we’re zigzagging down the freeway. I find it’s better for my nerves not to pay too much attention to the surrounding traffic. Which behaves disturbingly erratically. Better to look at the billboards for personal injury lawyers. Who doubtless pick up much of their work from the roads.

The USA has a terrible record on road safety compared to Europe. With four times the number of deaths per head of population as the UK. Far more chance of being involved in an accident here. Best not to think about it. Least anxiety destroy the enjoyment.

My hotel isn't the nicest. But it was the cheapest. And I'm only here for one night. I can rough it a bit for one day.

After settling in for a while, I head off into the night. Having realised that Halfway Crooks isn't far away. Stan Hieronymus took me there last time in Atlanta and it was pretty cool.

It's surprisingly uncrowded for 8 PM on a Saturday night. I wonder why that is? 

I park the ball of flab that is my body at the bar and peruse the beer list. What to start with? What about and IPA? I am in the USA, after all. I plump for Hoptechnics. It’s pleasantly fruity, if a little hazy. Though, thankfully, not full-on sludge.

A few more punters have filtered in. Still not very busy, mind.

Second beer is Cassonade Quadrupel. Which is, er, a Belgian Quadrupel. The type of beer I drink the most back home in Holland. It’s full of alcoholey goodness, without being stupidly sweet.

I don't stay all that long. Just a couple of beers. Before retreating to my hotel at 9:30 PM for some hotel whisky.

Feeling a bit knacked, I turn in pretty early. The whisky soothes my way to slumber. 

Halfway Crooks
60 Georgia Ave SE,
Atlanta,
GA 30312.
https://halfwaycrooks.beer/