Extra Porter

I've really caught the Porter bug. This is another bit from the Encyclopaedia Britannica of 1824.

This is the weirdest way of brewing a beer from different malts I've ever heard:

"The porter-brewers in London use three kinds of malt; namely, pale malt, amber malt, and brown malt. These three are mashed separately, and the worts from each arc afterwards mixed together in the same fermenting vessel. In some breweries, as in that of Barclay and Perkins in the Borough, there are three separate mash-tuns. In other breweries, the custom is to mash one kind of malt the first day, another kind the second day, end л third kind the third day. The first day's wort is put into the fermenting vessel, and mixed with yeast; and the other two worts are added to it successively as they are formed. Hence it is very difficult to determine with accuracy the strength of the worts in the London breweries. It could only be done by knowing the quantity of wort from each malt, and its specific gravity when let into the fermenting vessel."
Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1824, page 488

Any homebrewers fancy having a go at that? All that trouble - 3 days of work - for one brew. I'll add that I've seen no evidence of this practice in the archives. Let's say I'm sceptical that anyone really brewed this way.

"We have had an opportunity of determining the strength of the porter wort in all the principal breweries in London. The average specific gravity of brown-stout wort is 1.0624. The wort of the best common porter is of the specific gravity 1.0535; that of the worts or weakest is as low as 1.0374. The average specific gravity deduced from 20 brewings was 1.0500. Such wort contains about 46.4 lbs. per barrel of saccharine matter."
Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1824, page 488

This bit is more believable. Those gravities look about right. But didn't they just say you couldn't really measure the gravity accurately? If they could take measurements in the major London Porter breweries, it implies said breweries weren't using the three-mashes-on-three-days method. I have no brewing logs for 1824. The closest is 1812. Barclay Perkins: Porter 1052, Brown Stout 1070.

"Judging from the taste of some of the worts, quassia seems to be employed in considerable quantity by some of the brewers, and much more sparingly, if at all, by others. The fermentation of porter is carried on with considerable rapidity, so that it is over in two or three days. The specific gravity of the porter is usually brought down to 1.013 or 1.017. The specific gravity of the best brown-stout, after standing some months in the bottle, is 1.0106. The proportion of pale and brown malt used in the different houses varies. One of the best brewers in London uses nearly 2 parts pale malt to 1 part brown."
Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1824, page 488

I put this bit in for you, Lachlan. The quassia bark mention. Using it in beer was strictly forbidden after 1816, but it keeps coming up. I've read elsewhere that it was country brewers who were mostly guilty of its use. But that could just be townie brewers slagging off the yokels.

The final gravities seem right, too. About quarter OG, if you use the 1062.4 and 1053.5 quoted as OG for Brown Stout and Porter. I would work out what that made the ABV, but I'm too tired. Maybe later.

Here's some more about dodgy ingredients.

"Adulteration. Laws respecting brewing, &c. By the laws of England, which have existed, with slight modifications, ever since the days of Queen Anne, nothing is allowed to enter into the composition of beer but malt and hops. The cupidity of the fraudulent brewer has, however, frequently induced him to introduce other ingredients with the view of imparting a false strength to his liquor, or as a substitute for one or other of its constituents. Thus, to impart bitterness, and to lessen the quantity of hops required for the beer, quassia, gentian, wormwood, and broom-tops have been used ; to give pungency and flavour, capsicum, and grains of paradise (in concentrated tinctures), ginger, corianders, orange peel, and caraways ; to give intoxicating properties - opium, cocculus indicus, nux comica, tobacco, extract of poppies and tincture of henbane; as a substitute for malt - molasses, colouring and sugar ; to impart a false appearance of age - sulphuric acid, alum, green vitriol, and common salt. The following is a list of the unlawful substances seized at different breweries, and brewers' druggists' laboratories in London, as copied from the minutes of the committee of the House of Commons. "Cocculus indicus, mulium (an extract of the cocculus), colouring, honey, hartshorn shavings, Spanish Jnice, orange powder, ginger, grains of paradise, quassia, liquorice, caraway seeds, copperas, capsicum, mixed drugs."

Sugar and coriander seeds may be mentioned as a very common addition to beer. It is said that 6 Ibs. of the former, and 1 lb. of the latter, are equal in strength and intoxicating quality to a bushel of malt. The sugar is employed in a roasted state, for the sake of its colour ; even coffee has been used for this purpose. Publicans generally reduce their strong beer with water, or table beer, and add treacle, (which they call "foots") and a mixture of copperas, salt, aud alum, (which they call " heading"), to make it bear a frothy head, and in many cases, gentian, sugar, or other similar ingredients, are added to keep up an appearance of strength, and to impart a flavour. The "cheap beer" sold by some taverns in London, is made by dividing the contents of two butts among three butts, filling them up with water and adding a bladder of porter extract (technically termed P. E.) to each."
"A Cyclopaedia of Practical Receipts" by Arnold James Cooley, 1845, pages190 - 191

Sounds lovely, doesn't it? But remember only one of the large London Porter breweries ever got busted. Even Accum doesn't say a bad word about them.

But using coffee to flavour and colour Porter? How modern. Did I mention that I'd found something about oak ageing? Deliberately maturing beer in new oak vats to get the taste of the wood in the finished beer. I'll have to dig it out. Remind me to do it tomorrow. I'm off to watch the end of Supersize vs. Superskinny.

Porter or Stout

Porter and Stout. Two distinct styles or variations of one? You should be familiar with my opinion by now.

I know that I've already banged on about this more than most of you want to hear, but two things have prompted me to return to the subject:

1. finding some more evidence
   
2. Zythophile's post on a similar theme yesterday
   

OK. Here's my first new quote:

"Stout, brown stout, &c. are varieties of porter, differing only in their strength."
"A Cyclopaedia of Practical Receipts" by Arnold James Cooley, 1845, page 190

This is the second:

"Porter is much weaker than strong ale. The average specific gravity of porter-wort, according to Shannon (as deduced from his strength by the saccharometer), is 1.0645, which indicates 60 pounds per barrel of saccharine extract. Hence the reason why it is so much less glutinous and adhesive than strong ale. The fermentation which porter undergoes is, we believe, much less than that of ale. But we have no very accurate information on the subject. According to the experiments of Mr Brande, brown stout, which is the strongest porter made in London, contains 6.8 per cent, by measure, of alcohol of the specific gravity 0.825. If he had given us the specific gravity of this porter before distillation, it would have enabled us to determine in some measure the error in the attenuation, as indicated by the saccharometer."
Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1824, page 488

(The bold is my addition, to make the most relevant passage easier for you lazy gits to spot.)

Both sources say unequivocally and explicitly that Brown Stout is variety of Porter. Now let's see - which sources do the BJCP quote? Oh silly me, I was forgetting. They don't provide any references to back up their claims, do they?

I'm sure I can find lots more sources that say the same: Stout is a type of Porter. But I can't see the point. Where's the evidence saying the opposite? If you can find any (published before 1900), send it in. I wager I'll easily be able to find more references that back me up.

Porter grists ca. 1845

Porter, Porter, Porter. When will I get bored of it as a topic? Probably never. Porter grists - sounds a fun topic.

Below are six Porter grists taken from "The Theory and Practice of Brewing Illustrated" by William Littell Tizard, 1846, pages 499 - 501.

Quite varied, I think you'll agree. Why are they so many and who used them? Let's hear what Tizard himself has to say.

First off, grist number 1:

"With those who brew the low-priced shabby article above alluded to, a grist something like No. 1 is used, producing a flavour which would lead a stranger to conclude that liquorice had been engaged in its production, so much like it is the flavour of porter brewed of pale and black malt only, whatever be their relative proportions. Any fulness which this porter may have, principally depends upon the gum-like portions and properties of the black malt, which, unlike the mucilage of the paler malts, does not submit to the process of saccharisation, either in the mash-tun or in the fermenting tun, and consequently does not contribute to the formation of alcohol: if, however, such an article be strong, and not attenuated too low, but vatted six or ten months, its objectionable flavour is in a great measure dissipated, and a new one is acquired, which renders the potation tolerable, and sometimes really good. Thus porter, made by an excessive use of black malt, is much more mucilaginous than that which is brewed from lower-dried materials."

Not exactly a resounding endorsement for just pale and black malt. The bit about it producing a liquorice taste grabbed my attention. How many modern Stouts have that flavour?

"No. 2 in the above table produces porter of an ordinary kind only, and with a lower flavour than the first, though much superior to it; but its quality greatly depends on attendant circumstances."

This one a bit confusing. I think what he means is that the flavour is less intense, but more pleasant, than that of grist No. 1.

"No. 3 is much improved in consequence of the introduction of one-tenth of amber and a small quantity of brown, or of the deceptive blown malt. "

Tizard evidently approves of the use of amber malt.

"No. 4, which perhaps is much more general in the provinces, is preferable to No. 3; and, if used without any counterfeit matter, gives general satisfaction where the brewer is provided with the necessary plant, proper vats, and a sufficiency of knowledge ; but the great misfortune with many of the less experienced country brewers is, that they imagine that porter cannot be brewed from malt, hops, and water, without some other ingredient; and hence they often spoil the flavour of a really good beverage by contamination with liquorice or other alien matter: a fact which, as it demands condemnation, must be admitted with regret. Besides this, country porter is often prepared of a greater gravity than the common London tipple, and is consequently of a higher and ranker flavour, arising from the concentration of its carbonised matter. "

This section points out some interesting differences between London and country Porter. I surprised that he's still complaining about the use of adulterants. The use of any ingredients other than malt, hops, yeast and water was illegal at the time.

"Country brewers would find their pecuniary advantage secured, and their beer at the same time improved, were they to use newer and better hops than they usually do, and were they to adopt the grist now in use by those whose produce is so much admired by the public, namely, No. 5, and still more so by the exclusive employment of No. 6."

Tizard's final judgement is unexpected. Not the grist with the greatest proportion of brown malt, but one with neither pale nor brown wins his approval.

So far the theory. What about the practice? Well I just happen to have the grists of several London breweries for about the same period.

Who shall we look at first? What about Whitbread?


This was during Whitbread's "one recipe for everything" period. Doesn't resemble any of Tizard's grists. None of his are just pale and brown malt. I wonder if they were using some other additional source of colour? Strikes me that combination of malts wouldn't produce that dark a beer.

Let's try Truman next:

Again, just brown and pale malt used. Remarkably similar to Whitbread.

Maybe Reid's will show more variety:

This is the closest we've got yet to one of the examples. It's like No. 2, except with a lot less brown malt. Note the first appearance of black malt. I would have expected all the London brewers (which these all are) to be using it by the 1840's.

Finally, my beloved Barclay Perkins:
That's more like it. Finally some amber malt. The Stouts (BSt, EI and IBSt) all have a touch of amber. The Porters (TT and Hhd) do not. This is about the closest match we've had. IBSt (Imperial Brown Stout - what later became Courage Russian Stout) is somewhere between grists No. 3 and No. 4.

Personal aside
I can only think of one example of a beer brewed with just amber and black malt. A Dark Mild I once brewed. Confusion over the Dutch names had me but amber instead of pale malt. It turned out to be a really tasty, chewy Porter. About the only decent beer I ever brewed.

Conclusion
What does this exercise tell us? Don't believe everything you read in books. Well, not totally. Tizard does warn us:

"It would be difficult to define by words the exact flavour, colour, and constitution, produced by the various combinations of black, brown, amber, and pale, or perhaps to confine the shades of separate malts within these four terms ; for the scales of admixture are nearly equal in number with the practitioners themselves. The shades of amber malt, in particular, are so many, and so much difference of colour is imparted by black, that frequent trifling variations are made in the proportions of each by persons who draw out a standard scale for their individual guidance, in endeavouring to arrive at uniformity in colour and flavour, be they such as they may; but by an experienced brewer, this is done with admirable accuracy."

So pretty much every brewers used different combinations and even these were modified to cope with the vagaries of different batches. A warning to anyone wanting to recreate beers of this period, too. If there was so much variation in malts then, what chance of matching them perfectly today?

A visit to Barclay Perkins

It's been a while since I told you much about Barclay Perkins. Below is an account of a visit to the brewery, first published in "The Saturday Journal" in April 1839. At the time, Barclay Perkins was the largest brewery in the world and one of the sights of London.



A VISIT TO BARCLAY, PERKINS, AND CO.
On the southern banks of the Thames, between Southwark and London bridges, lies the hugest brewery in the world—the chief of those establishments which have made this great city the headquarters of malt liquor as well as civilisation. Ask any of the "fellowship porters" the way to BARCLAY, PERKINS, AND Co.'s, and there, from any one of these unaffected lovers of "heavy wet," you will get a direct direction. " There, Sir, right down afore ye !" and truly it would be difficult to miss a sight of the brewery, the buildings of which cover eleven acres of ground. But how to find out the entrance is the puzzle ; you must thread your way through narrow lanes, thronged with drays, while a rumbling sound reminds one of barrels and hogsheads, and the olfactory organs testify that a brewery is not only near, but round about- for communication between the buildings is maintained by suspension bridges over the lanes. At last we arrive at the gateway ; don't you see the ANCHOR, Sir, the symbol of Barclay, Perkins, and Co. ? All brewers have their sign- their symbol - their emblem ; and the anchor of Barclay, Perkins, and Co., is stamped, twisted, and interwoven on or in everything appertaining to the brewery - the very lamp-posts are propped up by the anchor.

Now, entering the gateway, we pass what may be termed the porter's lodge. An equivocal, or rather a very unequivocal tort of porter's lodge it is : porter-pots give intimation that beer : "drank on the premises," and though the court were clear of barrels and drays, one might have little hesitation in affirming as a verity, that we had entered a stronghold of the powerful spirit of malt. By the way, what is the etymology of "porter ! " A shrewd brewer of the olden time is said to have compounded a sort of half-and-half, which became very acceptable to those brawny fellows who, as the Dictionary says, "carry goods for hire;" and hence porter, a drink for porters, became a drink for the million. But "beer" is the genuine cockney name for "heavy wet;" "Be-ah!"' as the pot-boy bawls it, Sunday and Saturday, at eleven, at one, at eight, and at nine o'clock, in every narrow street, lane, or alley, where a hard-working and beer-loving population may be found.

Hillon, stand aside - here is a troop of the " rank and file " of the Brewery. Shoulder your - brooms; one looks almost instinctively to see whether or not the brooms are shaped in the form of an anchor. These men have just been cleansing out some of the huge receptacles - for malt is a cleanly spirit, and will resent as an injury any attempt to brew it in dirty beds. For this purpose a copious supply of water is a grand essential in ai brewery. Water, did we say ? Oh, do not mention the insipid word. Not a soul in all this establishment would admit it into his mouih. "Liquor" is the word, Sir; - we dare say, in the rainy months of winter, draymen and broom-men, brewers, tapsters, smiths, farriers, and "sample" men, will all be heard deploring the continuance of liquorish weather.

But let us proceed to the counting-house, a range of buildings which fronts us as we enter the gateway. Here are a host of clerks and collectors ; we might fancy that we were not in a brewery but a bank. In one of the rooms, looking down upon the busy deskmen below, is a bust of as characteristic a head as one might meet in a day's walk. This is the head of an old servant of the firm, who saved his £20,000 while in his employment ; and his bust is placed here, as a kind of presiding genius, a perpetual remembrancer and exemplar for his brethren of the quill who shall come after him. A sharp, shrewd old man, he must have been in his day; took care of number one, doubtless, yet had a corner in his heart for something more than himself. He probably eschewed water, dreading the stomach-ache; and kept his spirit bland and kindly by an occasional draught of “two- year old" Only think of a servant in a private establishment accumulating his £20,000 ! An old fellow died the other day, leaving upwards of £70,000, accumulated whilst he was a messenger ; but he was a messenger of the House of Commons, and nourished during the "palmy days," when half-crowns and "something more " were freely given for seats in the gallery.

Talking of old folks and old times, do you know to whom this brewery once belonged ? It was the property of Thrale, the friend of Johnson, and whose house at Strcatham was a home for the Doctor during its owner's life. Thrale's beautiful, clever, versatile, volatile wife, married a second time, and, under the Italian name of Piozzi, is not without her notability Dr. Johnson was one of Thrale's executors. "I could not," says Boswell, “bat be somewhat diverted by hearing Johnson talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should be sold. Lord l.urm tells a very good story, which, if not precisely exact, is certainly characteristical; that when the sale of Thrale's brewery was going forward, Johnson appeared bustling about, with an inkhorn and pen in his button-hole, like an exciseman; and on being asked what he really considered to be the value of the property which was to be disposed of, answered, 'We are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the potentiality of growing rich beyond the dreams of avarice !' "

The story is very likely an apocryphal one : but Dr. Johnson did certainly sell the "potentiality'' of becoming rich - very rich, not certainly "beyond the dreams of avarice," but beyond what Thrale, at least, could ever have imagined. The brewery was sold to Messrs. Barclay, Perkins, and Co., for £135,000 ; the capital now invested in it is stated to be somewhat about a million and a half. From out of the counting-house issues a gentlemanly, affable man, under whose guidance we propose to walk over the concern. But our friendly guide might himself be unable to thread his way through all the mazes of this amazing manufactory of "liquor;" at least there accompanies us a shrewd old man in a flannel jacket, whose office it is to act the "Cicerone "for visiting parties. An intelligent, sharp little man he is, not without a spice of humour; and though, of course, he has "expectations" at the conclusion of the visit, there is nothing in his manner indicative that his attention and quiet kind of garrulity are influenced by "considerations”. But where shall we go first? Let us begin with the beginning, though it may not be in the exact order in which a visitor may be conducted over the establishment.

Messrs. Barclay, Perkins, and Co. do not make any malt for themselves, - they buy it. When the malt arrives, it is all carried np to the stores by the laborious process of manual labour. Here the visitor will sec the contrast between human labour and machinery. The malt, as it arrives, is carried up to the stores sack by sack ; and at the same moment, and in the same neighbourhood, where this inartificial process is going on, the ground malt is carried from the grinding-mill, at the rate of 60 quarters an hour, up an enclosed box or shaft, called a "Jacob's ladder," and emptied into its proper receptacle. Lift a small door or opening in the shaft - there, you see the little baskets or boxes, full of ground malt, flying up, and, as they revolve, they empty themselves, and fill again. Now, why is it that the same machinery cannot be made to lift the sacks of malt as they arrive into the granary, instead of having two or three dozen stout fellows staggering up stairs, and along narrow passages, each with a sack on his shoulder ? Oh ! there is a reason for this; Southwark, where the brewery lies, is under the municipal jurisdiction of the "City," and within these municipal bounds the "fellowship porters " have a monopoly, and while sacks continue to be carried on men's shoulders " for hire," they contend that their shoulders should enjoy the privilege. They get two-pence for every sack of malt they carry from below up to the granary ; but Messrs. Barclay, Perkins, and Co., "argufy" in this way:- These lads have a monopoly, or a privilege, call it what you will; twopence a sack is no trifle to us, seeing that, on an average, we use (stand aghast, ye members of a temperance society) two thousand quarters of malt meekly; but then the fellowship porters wo'n't drink a drop of any sort of beer but Barclay, Perkins, and Co.'s, and of that they consume no inconsiderable quantity. This is, we presume, what is called "reasoning in a circle," or an argument which returns into itself.

Bestowing a passing glance on the huge bins for containing the malt (there is stowage for 36,000 quarters), we go down to look at the mill which is crushing the malt, and turning it into "grist." We may here remark the different kinds of malt used (Barclay, Perkins, and Co. now brew ale, as well as porter); the pale malt for the ale, the brown malt for the porter, and the roasted or black malt, which is employed to give the dark colouring. These different-coloured malts are produced by different processes in the drying or the making of the malt.

Pshaw ! but our nice black coats are becoming odious ! Let no gentleman visit this part of the concern in full dress, and no lady in black silk or satin. What with the dust from the grinding-mill, and a few a “shoulders" from the fellowship porters, as they climb the narrow stairs with their twopenny sacks, one is made quite a figure. It is dry, choking work, too; one has no heart for conversation ; we listen to all that is told us, but ask few questions. Relief, however, is at hand. Step this way - look at those goodly tuns; we shall have a drop of genuine "two-year old." Now, if ever you wish to enjoy a refreshing drop out of a pewter- pot, come here; first get covered with dust, and nearly choked with it, and then step hither. Hum ! but this is porter - let us have a bit of bread and cheese. Another draught;- why, this it admirable ! - another - it is exquisite ! One begins to feel quite cheerful,- almost hearty; fine, wholesome, stuff that. Any more porter, gentlemen ? Oh! certainly, we shall taste it again ;- two- year old, is it ? Let us have another slice of bread and cheese, this porter quite gives one an appetite!

We are now in a fine lively humour for visiting the rest off the establishment. Here then are the mashing-tuns, where the grist, or ground malt, is deposited, to undergo the first process in the whole art of converting it into liquor. Malt, in its conversion into beer, undergoes eight different specific operations; it is mashed, boiled, cooled, fermented, racked, or vatted, and fined, or cleansed. These operations are, in such an establishment as the one we are now visiting, carried on in a vast and magnificent style. The mashing-tuns, the coppers, and the fermenting-tuns, are all "inland" seas; there you look down on a dark brown ocean, - here yon ascend steps to gaze on a surface of milk-white foam. But have a care of your head - beware of the carbonic acid gas ! Our little guide in the flannel jacket told us of a French lady who would go up the steps to have a third peep ; but her head became giddy; she staggered, she slipped ; she would have fallen disastrously, but he, albeit a John Bull, and therefore by birth and breeding deficient in the promptitude of politeness, caught her in his arms and restored her to herself.

Marvellously capacious are the vats, whose contents would float the biggest man-of-war in the navy. Thrale, when he had the brewery, thought it was something of a brag to say that he had four vats, each of which held 1,600 barrels, above a thousand hogsheads. There are now one hundred and thirty-six vats, varying in their contents from above 4,000 barrels down to 500. There are, on an average, a thousand barrels of beer sent out daily. One hundred and sixty-two fat sleek horses are employed in dragging drays to all parts of London. There are a smithy and a farriery, and a steam-engine, shining like polished silver, and water-tanks (we beg pardon, "liquor" tanks) pillared high in air, and a railroad for coals, and - a world within itself. Now, kind reader, it were impossible to go out of this lesser world into the larger world of London, without stepping into the "sample" room, and tasting a drop of "genuvine" good ale. How tempting it looks, in those long funnel-shaped glasses ! "Ha! dat ish goot!" "Another glass, sir?" " Aye, to be sure, with pleasure !" "There now, that will do - let moderation have the helm in the ship of pleasure." But we are all in excellent humour with one another. " Good bye, gentlemen - hope to have the pleasure of seeing you all again - good bye, good bye ! “

"The London Saturday Journal" 1839, pages 268-269

XXX

Not much time. Just enough to post this revealing quote from Tizard.

"Common London porter ranges from 20 to 22Ibs. per barrel [1055º to 1061º], and the ordinary stout for town consumption about 26 Ibs.; [1072º] and stronger than this is mostly sent into the provinces, or consigned to exportation. The different qualities of beers, whether porter or not, are generally marked upon the casks in which they are sent out, and it is now common to stamp X, XX, or XXX, to designate such gravities as at the option of the proprietary may be determined upon, as a guide to the servants, and as a scale of charges. X was at first stamped by the Excise, or with their authority, on all casks and stores containing beer, which was deemed to be worth ten shillings per barrel, to denote that it was strong, and chargeable with duty accordingly; but as this was determined by the consciences of the trader and his surveying officer, the latter of which was sure to predominate, the course gave rise to an infinity of disputes. Ten shillings afterwards became the duty per barrel on malt liquors not accounted small, and the letters X and T were introduced into the officers' books to represent EXciseable and table beer respectively, till the total repeal of the beer duties in 1830 rendered all further notice unnecessary."

"The Theory and Practice of Brewing Illustrated" by William Littell Tizard - Brewing - 1846, pages 503-504.

I've spent years wondering what all those X's meant. I'd found a reference to "T" being marked on table beer barrels, but frustratingly it hadn't said what was put on those filled with strong beer. Now I know.

Is he right? The system of tax mentioned ended in 1830. There's a good chance he was working in the brewing industry at the time. The book was published just 16 years later. I'm inclined to believe him. Though reading it again, doesn't he give two different explanations?

What do you think?

I've just found this. It's from even closer to the period of 10/- a barrel tax:

"Why are certain ales called XX (double X) and XXX (treble X)?
Because, originally, all ale or beer, sold at or above ten shillings per barrel, was reckoned to be strong, and was therefore subject to a higher duty. The cask which contained this strong beer was then first marked with an X, signifying ten; hence the present quack-like denominations of XX and XXX. "

"Knowledge for the People, Or, The Plain why & Because: Part I. - Domestic Science"
by John Timbs, 1832, page 26

Joy unbound

Spike Milligan once said he envied laughter of children. He'd lost their capacity for pure, unbridled joy. Was his comedy just a vain attempt to recapture that feeling?

Today was brewing day at De Molen. Not just any brewing day. Brewing my Whitbread 1914 SSS day. I even got to help. I weighed out the hops and tipped them into the boiling wort. They even let me rake the spent grains out of the mash tun.

(I was thinking of metaphors last night while I was trying to fall asleep. The slashing sword of sedition. Spitting arrows of spite. Are they metaphors? I went to school at a strange time. English grammar wasn't taught. All mine comes from learning foreign languages. Could explain my English.)

Even before I crossed the threshold, I was transported back to my youth. The warm, comforting, sweet malt bath of mashing. Magnus Grammar, my secondary school, was just a couple of hundred metres from the Castle Brewery. Our playground was washed with the aromas of brewing every day. That's mashing and boiling. Now the odour of fermenting, that I associate with my one brief professional connection with the brewing industry. The summer of 1975, when I filled kegs at the Castle Brewery. AK. IPA. Whatever the Mild was called (no-one I've asked can remember its name). Have I told you this before? Give me a kick if I start repeating myself.

Menno (the brewer at De Molen) let me try his new Imperial Stout, Tsarina Esra, bottled and draught. It's the one he let me taste very young last time I was there. I'd give it a four dead rating - dead, dead, dead, dead good.

Did I tell you that I hadn't had a beer since last Wednesday? I was ill and couldn't stomach a beer, then I thought I'd give my poor, wasted body a couple of days rest. At 9 AM I broke my fast with Tsarina Esra. It's 11% ABV. Let's consult my notes: "Thick, chewy and delicious. Chocolate, liquorice, leather, elderberry, blackcurrant, roast - it has it all plus some."

I'm a lucky guy. A very lucky guy. Poor Spike, losing his capacity for joy unbound. But he didn't get to see his own beer brewed.

I'm so excited

And I just can't hide it. It's not Lichtenhainer that's getting me worked. Nor my DDR label scans that I finally found this evening. Something much more momentous is the reason for my excitement.

Tomorrow I'm off to Bodegraven to see one of my beers brewed. Not quite sure which it will be (Whitbread Porter or SSS). It should be a memorable experience even though I do have to get up at some ungodly hour. I'll tell you all about it in tomorrow's post.

Bit of a short post today, so here are some of the DDR labels I meant to share with you earlier in the week.

Reinheitsgebot II

I was going to talk about Lichtenhainer. You know of the article I found about Lichtenhainer, don't you? Well, you should pay more attention. I mentioned it at the end of yesterday's post.

I won't bore you with the details (not these ones, I have some others already prepared). Today I discovered an incredible resource. I quadrupled my material on Lichtenhainer in 5 minutes. More than enough to make me a total Lichtenhainer bore. I'll be droning on about it for years. But not today.

Everyone's heard of the 1830 Beer Act. When the whole country was pissed for days after the price of beer was halved. That Beer Act. But there was another Beer Act in 1823. Not as radical as that of 1830, but with one fascinating section.

"That such persons brewing porter, or using in the brewing of such ale or beer any other ingredients than water, malt, hops, and yeast, or mixing therewith, or with the wort or worts thereof, any water, or other ingredient than hops and the necessary quantity of yeast and fining, all such porter, &c. shall be forfeited, and may be seized by any Excise officer ; That every offence against these rules shall be visited with a penalty of 200/- ; and a penalty of 50/- for every offence is imposed upon persons selling, or permitting to be sold, beer brewed under this Act, in any quantity at one time of nine gallons, or quarter barrel, or upwards, at a higher price than 27s. per barrel, or any quantity at one time, less than nine gallon-, at a higher price than 10d. per gallon."

A British Reinheitsgebot.

The Reinheitsgebot is often (somewhat contentiously) portrayed as a piece of consumer protection legislation. Now the second part of the quote - that's what I call consumer protection. A fify shilling fine (about the price of two barrels of beer) for trying to overcharge you. You may think "Look at those quantities - the smallest is a gallon. Who buys that much at once?" Ah, things were so different in the 1800's. There was a big trade in selling beer by the barrel to private households.

Notice how Porter is mentioned first? In the bits I haven't quoted, it just says beer and ale. Only when talk turns to the use of illegal ingredients does Porter get a mention.

Oh yes, and the bit about not adding water to the wort is relevant. I'm sure that's one of the reasons London brewers brewed the way they did. Three or four worts blended together to get spot on the right gravity for perhaps as many as three different strength beers. And why brewing manuals of the period have detailed instructions on how to do the calculations needed for blending worts.

DDR beer styles

While nosing around in books and the web looking for stuff about DDR Porter, I stumbled across a couple of other things I thought worth sharing.

I only found quite a limited range of beer available - Helles, Pils, Pilsator, Berliner Weisse, Bock, Schwarzbier, Porter (once). That was about it. Browsing the old manuals, I noticed that they mentioned a few other styles - Märzen, Dunkles, Spezial - that I never came across.

Old labels betray that this wasn't the full picture. The Jena region had Lichtenhainer and Wöllnitzer Weissbier (though that still exists). In Magdeburg, they used to make an Altbier. In Berlin a Märzen-Weisse, whatever that is. Sounds suspiciously like a modern, made-up style. If anyone knows any more about it, please tell me. A search on the web came up with a single lonely hit.

Another thing I came across. Something about Gose. It was in a bound edition of Brawelt from 1960. In issue number 70 from September 8th 1960 (on page 1485) there's a table of prices for the different types of beer in the DDR. It's a very specific price list: for carryouts from a pub. Obligingly, the gravity of the beer types is included. Gose appears in the list twice. First, alongside Berliner Weisse in the Schankbier category - 8.7 to 9.3º Plato. The second is as a Vollbier - 11.7 to 12.3º Plato. 38 and 75 pfennigs respectively per half litre bottle. In case you were wondering. The most expensive beer by far was Porter, at 1.53 DM. (DM isn't a mistake. The currency in the East was called that in 1960.) Then again it was the strongest.

I've just spotted another one. DDR beer type, that is. At the very bottom is something called Giraffe-Bier. All I know is that it was 18º Plato and cost 1.02 DM for a 33 cl bottle. A web search yielded slightly fewer results than for Märzen-Weisse. Any further information, gratefully received.

I'm now really excited. I've just found what looks like a properly sourced article about Lichtehainer. What a productive day.

A book arrives

A book was delivered this morning. Nothing special in that. Except that I haven't ordered one for months. Dolores has enacted strict book buying guidelines and I want to retain both bollocks.

A book from England. How exciting. What could it be? Ainslie Books, the return address said. That rang a bell. Now why was that? Aaaaah "I bet I know what it is" I said to Dolores.

I took a butcher's at the postmark, just to be sure. February 10th. Wow. That's quick. Delivered in just minus four weeks. February 10th . . . . 2007. Make that delivered in just 11 months. Where on earth could it have been for the best part of a year?

Now I was sure of the book's identity. Heartbroken I was, when it didn't arrive last year. I'd coveted it so long. Eventually, I ordered another copy. Now I have two. Anyone interested in buying my spare "The Anchor Magazine 150th Year Commemoration 1781-1931"?

"How does this fit in with your blog theme?" Ah well, whose house rag was the Anchor Magazine? That's right - Barclay Perkins.

Porter in the DDR

See, I promised you the tale of DDR Porter and here it is. A coupling of two of my favourite obsessions.

How was it brewed
Let's start with "Leitfaden Für den Brauer und Mälzer" by Rudolf Dickscheit (Leipzig, 1953, pages 163-164).

"Porter
What in Germany is designated Porter, would be called Stout in England. For export, Stout is brewed with a graity of up to 21% [21º Plato]. Porter is a beer of similar character, but has amn original gravity of just 12%. To avoid confusion, in the following I will stick with the term Porter which is normally used in Germany.

The basis for a good Porter is a very well-modified malt. To obtain this, the usual method is a 14 day cold process.

The malt is heated in piles on the upper level and dried in the same way as Munich malt.

Porter is made by the infusion mash method which is standard in England. It can, for example, be brewed as follows:

Mash 69º C for 3 hours
Pump the whole mash into the heated Läufer tun
Rest 69º C for 30 minute
First sparge let stand for 30 minutes
Draw off first sparge
Second sparge let stand for 30 minutes
Draw off second sparge, add the hops and boli for 3 hours

Add caramel [Kulör] to obtain the desired colour, and add sugar in the kettle to obtain a gravity of 18 to 20% [Plato].

The grist generally contains caramel malt and Farbmalz. Farbmalz makes up 7 to 10% of the grist. The hopping rate is 600 to 700 grams per hectolitre. After the wort has been boiled for three hours it's transferred to the cool ship and with cooling apparutus brought down to 18º to 24º C. To the cooled wort a top-fermenting yeast is added. Since the fermentation temperature lies between 18º and 24º C, a violent fermentation soon begins. During the primary fermentation, the wort is only carefully cooled so that a temperature of 18º to 24º C is maintained.

The room temperature should be about the same as the wort temperature.

The aim is an unbroken fermentation of all the fermentable extract.

When the primary fermentation is over, the young beer is transferred to small lagering barrels. There it is infected with Brettanomyces and a sugar solution added. After a relatively short time a lively secondary fermentation starts. The lagering barrels are not bunged but allowed to froth over.

Brettanomyces produces substances which lend the beer particular vinous flavour. As soon as this appears to a sufficient extent, the Porter is filtered: afterwards, more sugar is added at a rate of 50 grams per hectolitre. It's inoculated with Brettanomyces a second time and filled into bottles.

Bottle-conditioning takes place at 15º C in a warm cellar, so that the Brattanomyces can produce a strong fermentation and the bottles gain a sediment. As soon as there is sufficient conditioning, the cellar is cooled to 0º C.

The Porter is now ready for consumption. However it can be matured for longer to develop and round off its flavour.

In general, pasteurisation is not necessary; if it does occur, the pasteurised taste is not so unpleasantly discernible as in pale beers.

A Porter brewed by the aforementioned method would not be identical to the beer produced in the DDR with the name 'Porter', but would be more similar to the English beer than is currently the case."

I like the bit about pasteurisation. Reading between the lines in brewing manuals, it's clear many professional brewers thought pasteurisation was detrimental to a beer's flavour. Dickscheit's differentiation between Porter and Stout is pretty spot on. As is his description of how Stout was brewed in England circa 1914 (by the time he wrote the book, probably only Barclay Perkins Russian Stout was made that way). I wonder how the hell he knew all of this?

But most important is the last paragraph. The method laid out wasn't how DDR breweries actually brewed, but something to which they should aspire in order to make an authentic English-style Porter. You can find this in a Michael Jackson article about Porter:

"Even after or War II, at least one German brewer continued to make a "British-style" Porter with a Brettanomyces yeast culture."

It's my fault. I sent him a translation of part of Dickscheit's instructions which omitted the final paragraph.

Where was it brewed
These are the breweries in the East that I know for certain (I've seen a label) brewed Porter:

Brauerei Eibau, Eibau
Schultheiss, Berlin
Brauerei Th. Krepper, Burg bei Magdeburg
Brauerei Sternburg, Leipzig
Brauerei Schmiedefeld, Schmiedefeld
Brauerei Meiningen, Meiningen
Brauerei Krampf, Eibau
Brauerei Braugold, Erfurt
Riebeck Brauerei, Erfurt
Rose-Brauerei, Grabow
Brauhaus Halle, Halle
Freyberg's Brauerei, Halle
Brauerei Lübz, Lübz
Brauerei Erich Weltz, Sülze (Extra Stout XXX)

Some of these probably date to before WW II, but I'm sure there are many others missing.

What it was like
I'm in a generous mood again. Here are the technical details of beers brewed in the DDR during the 1970's:


"Technologie Brauer und Mälzer" by Wolfgang Kunze (Leipzig, 1975) is a wonderful book. It tells you everything you need to know about running a brewery in the DDR. Right down to the how the labels should look:

- name and location of the producer
- bottling date
- size: 90 mm X 60 mm for 33 cl bottles, 100 mm X 70 mm for 50 cl bottles
- retail price in at least 12 point letters
- colour: for Porter, carmine red

When I open my brewery, I intend sticking to the rules. Except for the retail price, of course.

Amsterdamse school

"I know what I'm going to post about today."

Andrew: "About the school?"

"No, that has no connection with beer. It has to be about beer."

Andrew: "But I remember you once wrote about something else. Really. You did"

"Do you want to hear what I'll be blogging about?"

Andrew: "But you really did once write about something else. The one with the title Leeuwaarden. That wasn't about beer."

"Do you want to hear what I'll be blogging about?"

Andrew: "It really didn't have anything to do with beer."

"A comment I made on someone else's blog was the inspiration."

Andrew: "Take a look, dad, there's really nothing about beer in that one."

"There's an interesting story behind today's post. Several, in fact."

Andrew: "I'm sure there was another one not about beer, too. What was it . . . . ?"

"Porter in the DDR. "

Andrew: "Why can't you write about the school?"

I give in. I'll write about the school. Andrew's pressure hasn't decided me . The reasons are:

1. I can't find my DDR label scans
   
2. I can't find my translation of Dickscheit (what a dirty mind you've got - he's the author of "Leitfaden Für den Brauer und Mälzer")
   

Maybe I'll find time tomorrow.

Talking of "Leitfaden Für den Brauer und Mälzer", while flicking through it looking for the bit about Porter just now, I spotted a reference to Grätzer. The book was published in Leipzig in 1953. The mention was in a description of Rauchmalz (smoked malt). This is what says: "The best known Rauchbier is Grätzer." The malt for Grätzer was dried over beechwood fires, it explains.

I'm thrilled. Grätzer only died out about 10 years ago, yet I've only found a few short remarks about it. And I'm always rummaging around in German technical brewing litereature. (I know. I'm weird. Don't worry, I've come to accept it.) It's like unearthing a nugget, seeing the word Grätzer. Someone recently emailed me to say they were supposed to be reviving the beer this year. I hope they do. After I tracked down my original holy grail, Gose, I switched my attention to Grodziskie (the town from which Grätzer derives its name is now in Poland). Beer I would most like to try.

Amsterdamse School. My favourite type of architecture. Andrew starts secondary school next year. Our search for the right one started today at the open day of the Berlage Lyceum. An Amsterdamse School Amsterdam school.

I kept getting distracted. Takstraat is just behind the school. A wonderful bit of de Klerk fantasy, Takstraat is. Unusually for a building of the interwar period, the back elevations are as interesting as the facade. The way the balcony storage boxes (common in Amsterdam flats) have been modelled is pure genius. You can only really see it from the school playgound. As an older bloke, hanging around in school playgrounds isn't something I feel comfortable doing. Unless I have Andrew along, of course.

The Berlage Lyceum isn't bad looking itself. They didn't have leaded glass and frescoes in my school. He could study in worse surroundings. And the views are magnificent.

Average OG UK beer 1900 - 1993

I'm not feeling that well. Hence today's brief post.

Everyone knows that the British like their beer weak. But it wasn't always like that. Before 1917, British beer was usually stronger than that elsewhere.

This should tell you everything you need to know about the development in average OG during the 20th century.


What strikes me is the incredibly small variation in average gravity in the second half of the 20th century. The lowest average OG was 1036.9º the highest 1038º. That's pretty minimal variation, especially when compared to the first half of the century (low 1030.55º, high 1054.93º).

The minimal change in average strength is even more surprising when another factor is taken into consideration: the dramatic change in the type of beer drunk. In 1951, more than 50% of beer consumed was Mild. The second most popular beer was Bitter. In 1992, the 51% lager, 45% Bitter (and Stout) and 4% Mild. All of these types have different gravities. Yet somehow, the average managed to remain the same, despite dramatic variations in in the share of each different type.

What do you think this tells us? Do the British have a subconscious proclivity for beer of 3.7% ABV?

Tax and income

Yesterday I mentioned the catastrophic increase in beer duty in the early 1930's. Today I'm going to give you more details about it.



As you can see, in 1930 41 million barrels of beer were produced. Taxed at 80 shillings (4 pounds) per standard barrel, this brought in the government 71 million quid. Two years later, with tax at 114 shillings per standard barrel, fewer than 18 million barrels brewed and the total revenue collected was down to 67 million pounds.

Realising their mistake, the government dropped duty back to its old level, but it was too late. Beer production remained at around 20 million barrels and government revenues were just 54 million pounds.

There's a lesson in there for governments who greedily eye beer as an easy source of cash.

London Mild 1926 - 1941

Having obsessions is great. You always have something to talk about. Whether or not anyone wants to listen is another matter. Today it's the turn of of one of my favourites: Mild.

In 1914, standard London Mild (X Ale) was around 1051°, slightly higher than ordinary Bitter (1050°). During the war, the gravity of X Ale was slashed and during 1918 and 1919 was discontinued (in the case of Barclay Perkins) and replaced by 4d Ale, a price-controlled, low-gravity Mild of 1026-1029° After the War, the gravity bounced back to around 5-7° lower than in 1914, 1043-1045° and 4.3% ABV. That´s still substantially stronger than Mild today.

The crucial change came in the early 1930´s, when beer duty was increased from 80/- to 114/- per barrel. The effect was dramatic: brewers dropped their Mild gravities by 5-7° virtually overnight. It´s an even greater percentage change than that caused by WW I. The tax increase was repealed in 1933, partly because the drop in beer consumption it caused meant that the revenue collected was lower. But rather than increasing the gravity back to the old levels, the brewers kept the beer the same but dropped the price 1d to 5d a pint. The gravities in 1933 - 1032-1035° - match exactly those of modern Mild.



The full response from Barclay Perkins is interesting, because it illustrates a phenomenon that has occurred more than once in British brewing. They dropped the gravity of their X Ale to from 1043° to 1035°, but introduced a new beer, XX Ale, at 1043°. Looking at the specs, it seems to be the old X Ale renamed. This seems to be a common response to downward pressure on gravities: weaken a beer but at the same time introduce a "new" beer at the old strength. This is how Young´s Special was born - when the PA (Ordinary) was reduced in strength Special was introduced at the old PA gravity.

Towards the end of the 1930's Mild gravities did creep up a little - to 1036°-1038°. But a little event called World War Two soon knocked them back down to under 1035°. By 1945 Mild was hovering around 1030°.

Suspected Burton

Today's post is especially for Zythophile. Sorry that I couldn't come up with any AKs. Burton should be a good substitute. Burton is close to my own heart: it's the middle name of my second son (the initials of the first are AK).

Burton, ah, Burton. Once so common, now misunderstood or forgotten. For those of you who have arrived late, a word of explanation about Burton. It's not Burton Pale Ale I'm talking about, but Burton Ale. A strong, dark beer, it was one of the standard draught beers in London pubs until well into the 1950's. The last two Burtons were brewed by Fullers and Youngs. Fullers replaced theirs with ESB in the early 1970's. Around the same time Young's renamed theirs Winter Warmer and made it a seasonal beer.

Explanation over. But what about the title? Why suspected Burton? Because not all are called that by name in the Whitbread and Truman gravity books. Some are called Strong Ale, others just XXX or KKKK. I can''t be 100% sure these were Burtons. But as the list of named Burtons is just seven long, I've included the suspected Burtons, too.



Wondering about what the colour numbers mean? They lie in about the same range as Dark Mild. What was the relative strength of Burton? About the same or a little higher than Best Bitter. Want more details? Look below.


Suspected Burton. Better than an attempted moustache.

Two drinks

At least it gave my kids had a good laugh. The story about Wetherspoon's limiting adults accompanying children to just two alcoholic drinks. "You'd only be in pub five minutes, dad."

I've quite often taken the kids to a Wetherspoon. Usually the one in Lincoln. It's not particularly out of choice. Just one of the very limited options when you have children in tow. By the time we hit 'Spoons I've trailed around all the places the kids want to go - bakery, toy shop, firing range - I'm ready for a drink. Make that several drinks.

I start with a pint of the strongest cask beer on offer and accompany it with a double whisky. That takes the edge off the day. By the time the food turns up, I plan on being on my third round.

In Groningen on Saturday, I would have been in trouble after 12 minutes in the first pub. If it had been a Wetherspoons with an idiot manager. And in the second one, too. I had more of a thirst on by then. So after just 8 minutes. Yet my kids didn't run riot. Instead they gave me useful advice like: "Dad, no more than three jenevers." "Drink Dubbel not Tripel." Maybe having German passports makes my kids behave so responsibly. Being British myself, I act like a mindless twat.

What effect is all my abuse having on the kids? They hate our excursions so much they keep saying "Dad, can we go to the pub?" I can't be doing much wrong.

American Stout

I've noticed something: nothing gets more response than when I slag off American beer. Despite you telling me what you liked best were travel reports. Numbers don't lie. Me being nasty is popular.

I had great hopes of Deschutes Obsidian Stout. After the American Stouts I've drunk recently, I was hoping for another chance to pontificate on the inappropriate use of c-hops in Stout. Disappointingly, Obsidian was rather nice. Oh dear. What should I do? Lie and say I hated it. Keep shtum and passively give the impression I hate all American Stouts. As you can see, I've taken a third option: honesty.

Definitely Groningen

It was Groningen we visited yesterday. Dolores recognised the beautiful new museum. She really recognised the station. Which handily also has "GRONINGEN" in big letters on the facade.

In case yesterday's posts had you imagining me stumbling drunkenly through the city, dragging the kids. In case you believe my trips are just one long pub crawl. Allow me to drift, for a while, from the confines of my beery theme.

Groningen has a new museum. It's right opposite the station, and the bridge across the old town's former moat passes, well, right through it. I suppose it's one way of finding a site: build in a canal. The galleries are one floor down from the bridge. Disconcerting is how it feels when, looking through one of the windows, you notice that the water is around waist height.

The museum is currently holding an exhibition called "Russusche Sprookjes" (Russian Fairy Tales). Some was what you would expect - pre-Raphaelite medieval romanticisation. But they also had a couple of Kandinsky paintings. Alexei liked the paintings with Viking ships in them. He's just finished his own version. The kids were entertained for oh, maybe 30 minutes. Longer than I expected.

None of the real beer destinations . . Sorry Neither of the real beer destinations opens at lunchtime. We arrived at one. Pintelier opens at three. Half an hour at the museum, ten minutes to walk there . . . that's nearly two hours to fill.

I've been to countless towns with something called Vismarkt or Fischmarkt. Usually there isn't a fish to be seen. How different is Groningen's Vismarkt. It's still a real market. A sizeable number of the stalls were selling fish. The rest were cheese-sellers, butchers, bakers (no candlestick makers). Just food. I took the kids there to buy food for the return train ride. (Have you seen the price they charge for sandwiches in the station?) And lunch , too. The kids had a little healthfood number called Vlaamse Frites. (Andrew has just reminded me that his came with ketchup.)

We were leaning on the door of Pintelier at 14:55. Not a bad place. They have a special tap - shaped like the glass and its wooden holder - for Kwak. I should have taken a photo. But this is December in northern Europe. There's precious little daylight, even at midday.

They had a few christmas beers on tap. I had a Gouden Carolus Kerstbier. Very nice. I should say "with that distinctive spicy house yeast character" or some cobblers like that. But I wasn't sampling the beer. I was just having a drink. Over-analysis can take all the fun out of beer-drinking.

The friendly bloke at Van Erp had pointed out the way, quite literally, to Pintelier. Van Erp is a very decent beer shop, in the same mould as Bert's Bierhuis, Bierkoning or Gekraakte Ketel. I see that scandinavian beers are edging into Holland. There were a couple here. Good to see. I'm quite partial to Danish beer. And Norwegian and Swedish. I had a bottle of that Nils Oscar Imperial Stout on Friday. Very nice, indeed. More to my taste than the three strong AMerican Stouts I'd tried earlier in the week.

Andrew's getting impatient. I told him he could draw a map of our wanderings yesterday. Maybe I'll find time to add more words between my Sunday afternoon doze and my Tatort nap. Or maybe not.

..
..

..
..

Not.



Grotere kaart weergeven
Belgisch Café de Pintelier
Kleine Kromme Elleboog 9,
9712 BG Groningen.
Tel: 050 - 318 5100
Fax: 050 - 311 9358
http://www.pintelier.nl/


Van Erp Dranken
Grote Kromme Elleboog 16,
9712 BK Groningen.
Tel.: 050 - 312 6414
Fax: 050 - 313 9324
http://www.vanerpwijn.nl/

Leeuwaarden

"Andrew is crazy. Dad is great. The best dad ever. I'm so lucky to have a dad like him. . . . . Now let me type" . . . . if Lexie really wants to have his say on this blog, he'll need to learn to type.

Ice cream lolly, la la.

Better when I take over. He's been out all day and is as overexcited as a chav in the Red Light district.

Fruit lolly. Paint heart. Lungs. Printer with a mattress. Ba ba goo goo.

Told you so. He speaks fluent gibber. Worse in person. Honest.

Breaking news, chocolate lolly he, he he he he he he, he he he

Mornings, he's coherent.

"Lexie: give me a sentence with beer in it. At least five words."

"Ice cream lolly is; that's it."

Magic. I got a free word out of him. One nil to Dad. (If you count something with an apostrophe in it as just one word.) Beer wasn't in his sentence. But that doesn't matter now. Does it?

Groningen

Day been a it's quite. Rearrange the words to make your own sentence. What am I, your slave or something?

I took the kids to Leeuwaarden today. Pretty sure it was Leeuwaarden we went to. They split the train in Zwolle (PEC Zwolle played in the first Dutch league game I attended [against my lads, the mighty Sparta] {don't ask why I support Sparta; it's a story that starts in Warswa}). There were these signs on the platform saying GRONINGEN, but I think they were just try to fool us. Black ops and all that.

Leeuwaarden/Groningen - what does it matter? Once you pass outside the A10 it's all the sticks. Maastricht, Middelburg, Groningen. Stickland.

total alcohol

What better time than the first week of the New Year to look at total alcohol consumption? (In the UK.)

Just like shares, consumption of various alcoholic drinks can go up as well as down. To appreciate this, you need to take a long view. Like, say, 150 years. Then you get a genuine historical perspective.

Funny you should mention 150 years. I happen to have figures for the years 1852 - 2002. Here's a little quiz. Promise not to peek at the tables first.

1. In which of those years did the British slosh the greatest quantity of spirits?
   
2. Was more cider drunk in 1975 or 2002?
   
3. Was more wine drunk in 1940 or 1960?
   

Zi li gong shung, as I always say to the kids. (I don't think I've spelled the last bit of that right. I can't seem to find my copy of Elementary Chinese. . . . . Zi li geng sheng, that's the proper spelling.) Zi li geng sheng, as I always say to the kids. As an approach to the world and its vagaries, it can't be beat.

Have you made your guesses yet? I mean your answers to my questions. Have you? No? Then - hurry - bloody - well - up. And remember, no peaking.

Finished yet? About time. (Or get on with it, if you haven't yet.)

Finally . . .

Here are the answers. You have to hunt them down yourselves - zi li geng sheng, remember.




If you're wondering what "standard barrels" and "bulk barrels" are, there's an explanation here. Courtesy of The Brewers' Almanack, surely one of the greatest books of all time, sandwiched between "Three Men on the Bummel" and "An Ordinary Life" in the top three.


Tomorrow
The kids are trying to choose tomorrow's destination. I've never been to Leeuwaarden, so I'm rooting for that. I still have two 10 euro Blokker train tickets. With my 40% discount card, I need to go to the very edges of the Netherlands to get any real advantage out of them. Leeuwaarden, Maastricht, Groningen, Middelburg. Somewhere like that.

If I don't lose my notebook, expect a report on the trip.

Map 2

Alexei has different interests to Andrew.

Can you guess what they are?


Grotere kaart weergeven

The world. What a place, eh? Argentina is country I would most like to visit. Even before I learned how many new breweries they had. If someone wants to pay for my airfare, I'll compile the definitive guide to Argentinian beer. Really. Or die trying. (That's not an idle boast.)

What interests Alexei? Volcanoes.

Theme maintenance situation.

US Imperial Stout

Masochist? You could call me that. I've found another American beer in my pile: Stone Imperial Stout.

Before I start, I'll say that I've had this one lying around for a while. At least six months. Does that sound like an apology? Or an excuse?

This one I really like. Not unequivocally - there's a slightly over-insistent hoppy finish - but I'm sparing with my love. Lots of liquorice, roast and coffee. Nicely melded.

"Limited Spring 2006 release" it says. I suspect once a lot more citrus was lurking in this brew. Maybe I should store my remaining bottle of Yeti for a couple of years. Until that horrible hop flavour has faded.

How to get to De Molen

It's handy having children. They learn such useful things. Especially when they're getting bored towards the end of school holidays.

Today Andrew learned how to make Google maps. When I got home, without prompting, he'd made a map showing how to get from Bodegraven station to De Molen brewery. Here it is:


Grotere kaart weergeven

I hope it encourages some of you to go there. It's one of my top three Dutch breweries. The brewer, Menno, is a really nice bloke, too. Great beer, friendly host, beautiful location. You couldn't ask for more. Unless you're a whingeing git.

Geography

I've invented a new game to play with my son Andrew. It's called How Would You Get Home?

The concept is simple. "Andrew, if we accidentally left you behind in Graz, how would you get home?" "Get the train to Vienna, change there for Munich and then get a sleeper to Amsterdam." Damn. I should never have bought him an atlas.

Only trains are allowed. Cheap flights take all the fun out of the game.

"From Ljubljana." "Venice, Milan, Marseille, Paris, Amsterdam." (The towns mentioned being where you have to change trains.)

My try was Milan, Munich, Amsterdam.

We were both wrong. You really only need to change in Munich. Good excuse for a few beers. A couple of hours between trains in Munich, I mean.

See. I did get beer in. Theme maintained.

Relative value

What a treat I have for you today. Forget my hesitant foray into transatlantic ale. This will blow your socks off (if they've been soaked in nitroglycerine).

Verisimilitude. I've been meaning to use that word for ages. Ever since I heard the song. That's another one crossed off the list of "things to do before I go gaga".

Back to today's post. You're thinking "God, what will he tell us today if it's better that the gratuitous use of the word verisimilitude?" I'll give you a clue: add something that rhymes with raft to the title.

I laughed at all the graft involved in the preparation. Shaft you - I'm not daft enough to do that.

I hope you understand the concept of having a base index of 100 and hanging comparisons off it. I really hope you understand it because I can't be bottomed to explain it. Some might say my readership was small. I prefer to add a "but discerning" on the end. Or "but able to tie their own shoelaces". Or "almost literate".

Explaining that it an only slightly insulting way has distracted me from the task in hand. (As have Andrew and Alexei. In their own inimitably crazy way).

Have you looked at the table image yet? No? You lazy git. . . . . . . I'm just the same. I can never be arsed to follow links in posts.

Price-conscious. I've always been that. It partly explains my Mild-drinking. I used to think (how many times have I said that?) that the price differential between Mild and Bitter had been seriously eroded after 1970.

The unsurprising: the realtionship between price and OG is pretty constant. You can see this by comparing the price and OG index columns for Bitter. These show that the the price per point of OG was pretty much the same for Mild and Bitter. Though, in general, Bitter was cheaper (in 10 out of 12 examples). Why unsurprising? Tax was levied by OG. Tax was a considerable percentage of the cost.

The slightly surprising: Bitter was much better value in ABV terms. Look at the price and OG columns of Bitter. Only in May 1960 is the price index higher. That means (do I really have to explain all of this to you?) that only in May 1960 was Mild a cheaper way of getting the same amount of alcohol than Bitter.

The moral? Cheap isn't always better value.

Getting out

I don't get out much. My experience of American beers is consequently as limited as Matt's wardrobe. Some of you must have had more contact with it. Maybe you can help.

Great Divide Yeti Imperial Stout - is it a typical example of an American strong Stout?

That's all I want to know. Thank you.

War

The first day of a new year. Time to look forward. So here's a post about brewing in WW I and WW II.

Introduction
I admit it: I'm a numbers junkie. Statistics fascinate me because of the tales they tell. I would like to share one of those stories with you. (Have I done this bit before? Sounds familiar to me. It's what happens when you get old. You start repeating yourself. Once past 50, you can't say things a single time, Oh no. At least twice or three times you have to say them.)

War has been the driving force behind most developments in British beer, since at least the Civil War. Cromwell introduced the first beer duty. Soaring taxes during the Napoleonic wars spurred brewers to innovate to cut costs. Patent malt was the result. The Boer War saw Britain become a high-tax nation for beer. Measures to conserve resources during WW I slashed gravities forever.

Perhaps the title should have been "War and Taxes". It wasn't so much war directly, but the money needed to finance it that had an effect on brewing. Except perhaps WW I, where a shortage of raw materials and huge tax increases in taxation combined to wreak havoc.

So how come so little changed during WW II? The conflict came close to destroying Britain both militarily and economically. Why was the impact on the brewing industry so small?

I think I know the answer, but I'll present the facts first and let you decide for yourself.


World War 1

Let's first look at what happened in WW I:


The effect of the war was dramatic: production was almost halved, strengths dropped to near-beer levels. Postwar, beer gravities settled around 20% lower than their pre-war average.


World War 2

Here's what happened in the next war:


This time UK strengths only dropped by about 10% and output even increased. The UK was able to brew large quantities of reasonable-strength beer. Average gravity never dropped below 1033.

You'll note that the effects of the war - even in the period when things were going well - were much more pronounced in Germany. Production of serious-strength beer trickled to a halt in Germany about half way into the war.

Average German gravity would have been much lower than the maximum figure given. There were classes with an OG of just 1012 even in the early war years. By 1945 some beers were as weak as 1008. If you reckon that German beer probably averaged at least 12º Plato(1048) before the war, it's quite a big drop. Things got so bad, they even suspended the Reinheitsgebot for a while.

Worth noting
Britain's prime minister for the second half of WW I, Lloyd-George, was a teetotaller, as was Hitler. Churchill, on the other hand, was an enthusiastic drinker.