Glasgow to have barmaids

It's amazing what you can discover with an old brewing magazine and nothing to do.Yes, you guessed it. I'm still ploughing through "The brewers' Journal 1940".

I know that they had different licensing laws in Scotland. But I never realised that barmaids had been banned in Glasgow.

"Glasgow is to have barmaids again after an interval of fully thirty years.

The magistrates have, by nine votes to six, granted an application by the Licensed Trade for permission to employ barmaids, but have stipulated that women employed should be at least25 years of age.

They refused another application to be allowed to employ youths of of between 16 and 18 years of age as barmen.

Both applications were based on the plea that 50 per cent. of the barmen in the city wre serving with the Forces or were liable to be called up for service.

Temperance organisations opposed the applications on the ground that employment in public-houses was not suitable for women and was not in the interests of public morality.

It was also argued that the presence of women behind the bars might tempt young men into licensed premises and encourage them to drink.

Since the ban, however, the employment of barmaids in hotel, restaurant, and lounge bars has been permitted."
"The Brewers' Journal 1940" page 729.

I'd thought that the temperance lobby had been buggered by WW I. Evidently not. The bastards.

One reason for the public-house

Another wartime piece from the Brewers' Journal today. I know. I'm a lazy git. This one is a quite philosophical exposition of the function of a pub.

"Early in the war mass observation revealed that when outstanding war events protruded the number of patrons in licensed houses increased. This wa determined by viviting a cross-section of licensed premises and recording the number of people present at identical times on specified days of the week. The reason assigned by mass observation was that at such times people had more to talk about. The organising secretary of the Alliance News - the principal organ of teetotal thought - has been finding out the same thing, although we suspect that his purpose in setting out his findings was to disparage the public-house. He records:-

"Two passengers in a train entered into conversation concerning the public-house where it was their custom to meet; and presently the younger of the two said that he really did not go for the beer, but for the company. At this I entered into the discussion, and suggested that the same thing was not quite true of a teashop. People only went into a teashop when they wanted a cup of tea."

Not so the public-house, where they not only go to slake their thirst, but to play games and, above all, to talk, as in a true democracy people should. Yes the teashop is no match for the public-house. One doesn't go into the teashop "for the company"; but we are gald at this point - the human atmosphere of the inn - which we have stressed so often, is now emphasised from a quite unexpected source."
"Brewers' Journal 1940" page 806.

I'll go along with that. If I want a beer and to watch telly, I'll sit at home. A chat and the odd glass with friends works much better in a pub.

Brewers' League Table 1973

Bored at home again. So bored I browsed the oh-so-corporate "A History of Bass Charrington". It's full of corporate monopolistic fun. Cool, eh?

The league table of British breweries just before the formation of the Big Six amused me. (Being easily pleased is one of my primary characteristics.) Here it is.

Lactic acid and acetic acid bacteria infections

Now here's something unusual. This isn't at all what I'd been looking for. I was hunting through a wartime Brewers' Journal, looking for good WW II stories - rationing, bomb damage, that sort of thing - and tripped over a piece on bacterial infections instead.

I would normally transcribe the text, but, you know what? I don't really feel like doing it. I'll soon be adjourning to the settee with DVDs of American Dad for the rest of the day. So here are scans instead.





Fascinating, isn't it, how the change in the nature of British beer changed the type of infection it was most vulnerable to. The source is the "Brewers' Jornal 1940" page 893.

Logs - lesson 1

You know, I'd love to research the last 200 years of British beer history single-handedly. Just my idea of fun. But I have to admit the odd ray of reason to the darkened chamber I inhabit. I'd never have the time.

I've already told you who to locate and visit an archive. Next step is interpreting what you find. It's not that hard. I managed to pick it up without help. You'll get a helping hand.

Here we go then. Below is a log from Kidd & Co.


As these things go, it's pretty straightforward. Maybe I should let you have a go yourselves first, to see what you can work out. One thing I feel obliged to tell you, is that the gravities are given in pounds per barrel. It's the proverbial chunk of urine to calculate SG from that, but you need to know the formula. Which is

sg = (lbs barrel * 2.77) + 1000

So 20 pounds per barrel is (20 * 2.77 ) + 1000. Or 1055.4º.

In the log above, see if you can find the SG in pounds per barrel. As there's a full fermentation record, it's easy to find the FG, or at least racking gravity.

The mashing details are pretty clear. You'll see there are 3 phases to the mash. Mash, underlet, sparge.

The ingredients aren't too hard. I'll tell you that Qrs means Quarters. That's around 336 pounds of pale malt, 250 pounds or so of brown or black malt. In terms of sugar, a quarter is 2 cwt (2 hundredweight or 224 pounds). It's quite simple.

Did I mention there was a prize? Or two. It depends on my mood. And what you don't mind getting lumbered with. It's my books I'm talking about. But back to the matter in hand.

Yes, it's a sort of, help familiarise yourself with brewing records study aid sort of quiz. With a prize. Or two.

Look at the Kidd log in the image and try to answer these questions:

What was the OG
The FG
fermentation temperature
length of fermentation

The ingredients in pounds and what each is
Unusual ingredients
pounds of hops per barrel of beer
pounds of hops per quarter

mash temperatures and duration
length of boil

anything else you can see.

One point for each one of the above. Highest score gets a copy of "Trips!". The book I haven't got around to releasing yet. Except to Mike. I gave him a copy on Saturday. And there may be a second prize. "Numbers!", perhaps. No-one's got one of those. Except me.

The rise and fall of beer styles

I'm taking a break from sugar, WW I and British brewing. And taking a look at German beer styles. In particular, their relative popularity over the years.

Hopefully these figures will help lay to rest the myth about European beer being traditional and unchanging. Nothing could be further from the truth. Take a look at the fortunes of Pils and Export in Germany over the last 40 years.



In the 1970's, Export's market share slumped while that of Pils skyrocketed. But after peaking with almost 69% of the market in 2002, Pils now seems to be definitely in decline, being down to just 55% last year. Export, seemingly on the road to oblivion, has rallied a little and is clinging on to around a 10% share.

Weizen has steadily increased in popularity over the last 30 years, but the picture for some other top-fermenting styles is much less rosy. Alt's progress has been a mirror image of Weizen's, declining from 6.6% to 1.4%. Kölsch has done a little better, falling from 4.5% to 1.6%.

My favourite pub guide

Ethics. They're like sensible shoes. We wouldn't want to live without them, but who wants to go shopping for them?

I want to be honest with you, so disclaimers upfront. I didn't pay for my copy of this book. I also contributed to it. (Two crappy pages, which were much improved by the editor.) That honest enough? I happen to quite like the author, too.

If I thought the book was crap, my approach would be simple. Silence. But it isn't crap. So I feel obliged to say something.

It seems like more than a decade since I began my own stulted and cowering beer-writing career. Hang on, it was more than a decade ago. Which just goes to show how long Tim has been in the game. One of my early sources and inspirations was Tim Webb's Benelux Guide. It and Peter Crombecq's books taught me most of what little I know about Belgian beer and pubs.

My first entry into the world of beer literature was a tiny Amsterdam Pub Guide webpage. The format, content and style owed much to Tim. More than I would readily like to admit. Handing him the latest print version of my guide in exchange for the GBG Belgium, I thought I'd got a much the better deal. My own book lay flat and lifeless on the table next to his vibrant full-colour work. Humility may not be fashionable, but it has its place.

Even a cynical, critical bastard like me has to admit that beer writing is on the up. My yardstick is simple: could I have done as good a job? I've already found two books this year that surpass my capabilities: "Hops & Glory" and "Good Beer Guide Belgium".

Rejoice. We live in a golden age of beer literature.

War is hell

A couple of random articles from "The Brewing Trade Review 1943" demonstrating the deep reach of the war on brewing and the pub trade.

"In relation to bottled beer, the growing seriousness of the rubber position is likely to have its repercussions on the supply of stoppers and rings. The Rubber Controller has recently issued a strong appeal to the public to co-operate in returning all screw stoppers - and appropriately enough this has been done in newspaper space provided by the Society in the "What do I do" series. The quantity of rubber, even reclaimed rubber, which is required to produce stoppers and rings will almost certainly have to be cut in the immediate future, and every brewery should do what is possible to promote the utmost percentage of recovery of used stoppers from their customers in order to avoid the curtailment of bottled beer output."
"The Brewing Trade Review 1943", pages 173 - 174.

Who wouldn't have wanted the job of Rubber Controller? Sounds vaguely kinky. No, decidedly kinky.

And what happened when your beer was blown up by German bombs?

"There are two distinct statutory provisions in this matter, one designed to deal with beer which has been accidentally destroyed and the other to deal with beer which has become spoiled. The first is contained in Sec 18 of the Inland Revenue Act, 1880, and applies only to beer accidentally destroyed by enemy action or otherwise while on the entered premises of a brewery, apart from certain exceptions relating to bottling depots approved for the purpose.

The second provision arises in the Spoilt Beer Regulations under Sec. 4 of the Finance Act 1915. It permits the refund of duty on beer which has accidentally become spoiled or otherwise unfit for use, and, if it had been delivered to another person, has been returned to the brewery. If, therefore, beer is destroyed in a public-house cellar by enemy action, the proper course is for the licensee to claim the full value, including duty, under the War Risks Insurance Act, but if it is merely rendered unfit for use and is returned to the brewery, the brewery can claim refund of duty under the Spoilt Beer Regulations, in which case the licensee must not include the duty on his claim under War Risks Insurance."
"The Brewing Trade Review 1943", page 174.

See, the Germans weren't deliberately trying to destroy our beer. They only did it accidentally. Very sporting of them.

London beer

A long quoted passage today. I feel like shit and it's all I can be arsed to do. So don't start complaining.

If you can be arsed to read it all the way through, you'll find some captivating glimpses into Britain's export trade in beer in the first half of the 19th century. It shows that Porter, far from being driven out of tropical markets by Pale Ale, was still extremely popular in many of the hotter areas of the world. (Which should come as no surprise to anyone who's been to the Caribbean, where Stout is still surprisingly popular.)

Other points of note? References to muslims supping Porter. The classic description of Mumme as "a thing to be eaten with a knife and fork". A mention of Hodgson's Pale Ale.

"The increase of brewers has kept pace with London's increase in other respects. The 26 brewhouses of the reign of Elizabeth had become about 55 in 1759-60, and upwards of 148 in 1841. The number of barrels of beer brewed by the twelve principal brewers in London was—284,145 in 1782; 1,097,231 in 1808; and 2,119,447 in 1836.

The genuine London beer (although we learn from the ' Brewers' Annual' that there are only three brewers in London—Reid, Meux, and Courage—who do not brew pale ale, and that there are a few who brew nothing else) is the brown stout. It is the perfection—the ideal of the "berry-brown ale" and the "nut-brown ale" of the old songs. It is what the poet of those antediluvian days fancied, or a lucky accident enabled their brewers at times to approach. No disparagement to the pale and amber ales, infinite in name as in variety; to the delicious Winchester ; to the Burton, which, like Sancho's sleep, " wraps one all round like a blanket;'' to Hodgson's pale India ale, so grateful at tiffin when the thermometer is upwards of 100, and the monotonousness-creating punkah pours only a stream of heated air on the guests; to the Edinburgh (we mean the Edinburgh as it is not to be had in London *) ; " London particular" is the perfection of malt liquor. As Horace says of Jupiter, there is nothing " similar or second to it"—not even among liquors of its own complexion. Guinness is a respectable enough drink, but we must say that the ascendancy it has gained in many coffeehouses and taverns of London is anything but creditable to the taste of their frequenters. Its sub-acidity and soda-water briskness, when compared with the balmy character of London bottled stout from a crack brewery, are like the strained and shallow efforts of a professed joker compared with the unctuous, full-bodied wit of Shakspere. As for the mum of Brunswick, which enjoys a traditional reputation on this side of the water, because it has had the good luck to be shut out by high duties, and has thus escaped detection, it is a villanous compound, somewhat of the colour and consistence of tar—a thing to be eaten with a knife and fork. We will be judged by any man who knows what good liquor is—by a jury selected from the musical amateurs of the ' Coal-hole,' the penny-a-liners who frequent the ' Cock' near Temple Bar, and the more sedate but not less judicious tasters who dine or lunch daily at ' Campbell's' in Pope's Head Alley. Should it be objected that such a tribunal, composed exclusively of Londoners, might be suspected of partiality, let it be a jury half composed of foreigners—Liibeck, Goslar in Saxony, and any town in Bavaria can furnish competent persons to decide such a question. The German students are in general (at least in the north) devout beer-drinkers, but they are of the class who love "not wisely but too well"—they drink without discrimination. It is among the Philister of Germany that you must look for connoisseurs in beer.

But the favour in which London beer stands in so many and various regions of the earth may .be received as the verdict of a grand jury of nations in its favour. Byron sings—

" Sublime tobacco, that from East to West
Cheers the tar's labours and the Turkman's rest;"

and he might have added that wherever tobacco is known and appreciated, there too have the merits of London porter been acknowledged. The learned Mei- bomius.t who, in a Latin quarto, has dilated upon the subject of "beer, tipple, and all other intoxicating liquors except wine,'' with the completeness and minuteness of a true German naturalist, and with that placid seriousness which might make what he says pass for a joke if there were only wit in it, or for learning if it contained anything worth knowing, has judiciously remarked that smoke-drinking and beer-drinking are natural and necessary complements of each other. The mucilaginous properties of the beer are required to neutralise the narcotic adustness of the Nicotian weed; and London beer, being the perfection of its kind, naturally takes the lead of all other kinds of beer. Accordingly we find it not only on the shores of the Baltic, where the habit of swilling their own indigenous malt liquors might be understood to have predisposed the natives to its use, but under tropical skies, and among the disciples of the first great teetotaller, Mahomet.

On the Nile and Niger, as has above been hinted, this is not so astonishing. There the natives had already a kind of beer of their own ; and where once a taste for malt has taken root, it would take a cleverer fellow than Mahomet to eradicate it. Burckhardt, in his Nubian travels, gives us a tolerable notion of how vainly the Faquirs and Santons preach against indulgence in boosa; and the last letter from poor Anderson, the only one of Park's European companions who survived to perish with his leader, boasts of having got drunk upon boosa with a Moor, and licked his boon companion in his cups. That people accustomed to put up with bad liquor should take kindly to good when it came within their reach is quite natural.

It is among the Osmanli, and the Arabs, and the multiform sects of Hindustan, that we are to look for the real triumph of London beer. In the country last mentioned it is true the high-hopped pale ale of Hodgson, Bass, and others famous in that line, appears to be in greater demand; yet the genuine brown stout will be found in a respectable minority. Probably, too, a minute examination would show that it is only at the tiffins of the Europeans that Hodgson's beer is most run upon, and that the dusky natives do more affect the generous liquor that comes nearer to their own complexion. In the tropical climates of the West, among the fiery aristocracy of Barbadoes, the shrewd hard-headed book-keepers of Jamaica, the alternate votaries of the gaming-table and the languishing Quadroons of New Orleans, bottled porter reigns supreme.

Pale ale is a favourite of long-standing in India. It and the darker kinds of beer crept into Arabia, through the English merchants trading to the Red Sea, at least as early as the time of Niebuhr. That traveller saw a serious elderly Mussulman tipple down repeated glasses of Mr. Scott's beer ; gravely remarking " that Mahomet had only forbidden drinking to intoxication, but that as the vulgar did not know when to hold their hands, it was necessary to make them take the total abstinence pledge ; that he, it might appear to his respected entertainers, although a learned man, and an aged man to boot, drained no moderate draughts of their beer, but that he did so solely because he knew that it did not intoxicate." The Scheich must either have been a notorious old humbug, or profoundly simple, to say of good London beer that it did not intoxicate.

The Turks, of whom Dr. Clarke tells us in his voyages about the Dardanelles and Egypt, were scarcely more candid, but considerably more ingenious. After the French had been driven out of Egypt, a British trading vessel, which had been fitted out to Alexandria by a speculative dealer in beer counting upon the thirst of a British army in a hot climate, arrived just too late for the market it had counted upon. This was a black look-out for the poor fellow who united in his person the responsibilities of skipper and supereargo; but by good luck there were then, as now (though not to the same extent), some of those questionable characters called antiquaries and the like prowling about Egypt, who were on a convivial footing with some of the laxer sort of Turks. The Osmanli tasted the porter at the houses of their Frank friends, and, rather liking it, were not slow to discover that Mahomet could not possibly have prohibited a liquor of which he had never heard, and, without affecting, like Niebuhr's friend, to believe that it did not intoxicate, drank copiously. The skipper found the Turks better customers than the Franks ; and we believe the sale of the article has continued to increase both at Alexandria and Constantinople.

Porter-drinking needs but a beginning; wherever the habit has once been acquired it is sure to be kept up. London is a name pretty widely known in the world : some nations know it for one thing, and some for another. In the regions of the East India Company, where missionary exertions are not much favoured, it is known as the residence of " Company Sahib ;" in the islands of ocean it is known as the place whence the missionaries come ; the natives of New Holland naturally regard it as a great manufactory of thieves ; the inhabitants of Spanish America once looked upon it as the mother of pirates. But all nations know that London is the place where porter was invented; and Jews, Turks, Germans, Negroes, Persians, Chinese, New Zealanders, Esquimaux, Copper Indians, Yankees, and Spanish Americans, are united in one feeling of respect for the native city of the most universally favourite liquor the world has ever known.

*Good Edinburgh ale must be allowed time to ripen into excellence. When bottled, it ought to be cloyingly sweet, and so glutinous that when some is poured upon the palm, and the hand held closed for five minutes, immersion in warm water is required before it can be opened again. After bottling, the ale ought to stand five years in a cool dry cellar, and four months near a Dutch oven in frequent use. It is then at its best; but even then it is more like a liqueur to be sipped than a liquor to be drunk.
"London" by Charles Knight, 1842

The temporary halt in the rise of sugar

Sugar, sugar, sugar, sugar. When will I find something new to write about?

This time I'm taking a look at the use of adjuncts and sugar in brewing 1910 to 1920. The percentage of sugar fell from 14% in 1914 to under 10% in 1918. The use of malt adjuncts and unmalted corn for brewing stopped completely.


I'm still nowhere near sugared out.

An early British lager

Did I mention that Barclay Perkins began experimenting with brewing lager during WW I? At first I thought this was pretty weird, given the level of anti-German feeling. But on reflection it makes sense. The war had doubtless cut off supplies of foreign lager.

The experimental dark lager brewed on March 10th 1915 was an odd beast. For a start there are the malts: 83% mild malt, 8.5% amber malt, 8.5% Californian pale malt. I guess they were using mild malt instead of Munich malt. The hops were at least partly continental.: 50% Worcester, 50% Burgundy.

The log form wasn't designed to record a decoction mash and there are several lines of comments in an empty part describing the process. It doesn't seem to gave gone quite to plan:

"Mashed 5.5 qtrs @ 7.5 a.m. Underlet at 7.35 - set taps & ran off 6.5 barrels @ 8.5. Raised to boiling point with boiling liq. & steam by 9 am. & boiled 0.5 hour. Brought back to 165º by 2.15 p.m. (should have been 150º - tun nearly full - could not add any more cold) Mashed in 0.5 quarter Calif. very stiff at 2.30 & raked well, conversion complete & taps set @ 3.20 p.m. - Goods would not drain at all - wort only got off by repeated underletting & raking& by siphoning. No reliable tap heats or gravities obtainable. First wort drawn from M.T. kept at about 190º all the time.
Goods were not sparged at all"

That definitely sounds experimental to me.


The fermentation was more like you would expect - comparatively long and cold. Lager yeast was pitched at 46º F and the beer was racked into an aluminium tank in the cold store after 7 days.

The OG was 1052º and the racking gravity 1023º.

Lager from British barley

I like to maintain a steady supply of Barclay Perkins references. They did, after all, provide my inspiration for this blog.

Barclay Perkins were one of the first English brewers to get into lager in a big way. Their first experiments were during WW I and by the early 1920's they'd a purpose-built lager plant and were in full production.

The following passage is taken from the speech of chairman Lt. Colonel Robert Wyvill Barclay given at the 41st annual general meeting of Barclay, Perkins & Co. Ltd.

'The new customs duty of £1 per bulk barrel on non-Empire beers is not really such a big thing as it sounds at first. I attracted a certain amount of attention during the debate on the Budget, and I agree with Colonel Gretton, who pointed out that some members were trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. At the same time, we, as brewers or lager beer , do greatly appreciate this action of the government in supporting a British industry, but it is too son as yet to judge what result this new Customs duty will have on the imports of foreign lager beer.

Some of the Members who oppose this increased Customs duty in the House of Commons seem to be under the impression that lager beer cannot be brewed in this country, but we have had expert opinion on this from the Scandinavian Brewers; Laboratory, who say: "Basing our judgment on the results of our investigation, we may consider the quality of the beer as of the highest standard possible, and we may reckon this produce of yours equal to the finest lager beer we know."

That is only one opinion, but we can add to that the opinions of lager beer brewers from all over the world who have visited the brewery at various times.

I should like to back these opinions and ours by inviting those M.P.s to come to the brewery and taste any brand of foreign lager beer obtainable in London they like to name against Barclay's lager. I leave it at that.

I referred to the debate on the Budget just now. Sir Joseph Lamb raise the question of the use of British barley in lager beer. I may be of interest to state that this company have for some time in the past has been experimenting with the making of British barley into lager malt. This has now gone beyond the experimental stage, and I can assure you that the Barclay's lager you drink in this country is made from a large proportion of British malt.

The proportion of British malt has gradually been rising each year as our maltsters have mastered the making of lager malt from British barley, which requires a different process than for making malt for the top fermentation beers.'
"The Brewers' Journal 1936", page 396.

I like the bit where he calls out M.P.s to parallel taste imported lager against Barclay's. I wonder if any turned up at the brewery? There being free drink on offer, I bet some did. You know what a bunch of greedy pissheads politicians are.

Glory, glory

Feeling like I've been run over by a steam tram does have its upside. I like to stay positive. Not just time for music. Time for reading.

Here's a confession. Though I read an absolute stack, I've only read two books cover to cover this year. Actually even that's not true. I haven't managed the last three pages of "The Younger Centuries" yet. Pete Brown's "Hops & Glory" is the only book I've finished this year.

It's very entertaining stuff. "Hops & Glory", I mean. "The Younger Centuries" was a good bit drier. Though they did share certain themes. Younger was one of Britain's biggest beer exporters, heavily into the IPA trade. And there are bits of travel writing in it. "The Younger Centuries" I'm talking about now. This is confusing. Even I'm losing track. I'll just stick to discussing "Hops & Glory".

I was going to write something poncey here. About Pete Brown's laconic style and self-deprecating humour. The sort of tosh you see in printed media. I could bang on about the structure and the pace - both dead good. But I don't want to come over all Sunday supplement on you. Laughs. That's what it's all about. And there are plenty of those. For a few hours all fears of pneumonia disappeared over the equatorial horizon.

The rise of sugar

Sugar week seems to have turned into sugar fortnight. Oh well. And I've barely even started looking at "Pure Beer agitation". Sugar quarter anyone?

The use of sugar and adjuncts gradually increased in popularity after the Free Mash Tun Act of 1880. By 1914 malt accounted for less than 80% of the fermentable material employed in
brewing. As you can see from the table below.


WW I knocked the percentage of adjuncts and sugar back considerably - down to zero in the case of adjuncts. But when normality returned, the proportion of sugar used started edging up again.

Sickness

It's great being ill. I get to be at home alone. All those things I can't do while the rest of the family is around are suddenly possible.

Number one is listening to music.

"Dad, turn off that crap." "Noooo dad, I don't want to hear this horrible shit." That was when the kids were being reasonable. Mostly they were far less polite.

Music used to rule my life. Like many youngsters, it was my musical taste that defined me and autoselected my friends. The NME was my bible, punk my epiphany, playing my sacrament. How could I have abandoned my religion without a fight?

Being bullied by your kids. There's not much more humbling than that. But it's true. My kids have bullied music out of my life. Surely it should be the other way around.

They're at school today, while an onion-breathed cold ravages my sinuses and stuffs my head. Time for Teenage Fanclub, Fehlfarben, The Faces and The Wedding Present.

Living in the past. It's what I'm all about.


Bonus question: where's the photo from?

Let's brew Wednesday - 1943 Whitbread XXXX

Another wartime beer, on this occasion one from WW II.

XXXX what is that? Well it isn't a Mild, as earlier beers called XXXX were. Really, it's more like a KK. A Burton or Strong Ale, something that still featured on most London bar counters. It being wartime, the gravity has been reduced from a pre-war level of around 1055.

Below Kristen wonders about the high proportion of oats in the grist. There's a simple reason for this: the government made them do it. Brewers were told to use a certain proportion of oats, despite many having serious objections.


Whitbread 1943 XXXX (4X)

For the 2nd beer during the fabulous month of June, alcohol anything month, is Whitbreads 4X. Ohhhhh...ahhhhh...ummmm...what the hell is a 4X. Well its simply 1X better than a 3X and 1X worse than a 5X. In all seriousness, this is definitely different than nearly all the the X beers I've seen. Its much different than the Truman 4X 'imperial milds' that sported +1.100 gravities as we'll see.

Grist and such
Crappy malt. Lots of lower quality malts that aren't used on the really good stuff. As with most Whitbread beers of this age there were numerous types of pale malt used. Each was of second quality so it makes sense that there was a few to dry out as much complexity as possible...or it could have just been the cost. A few things really stand out. At over 24% adjunct, this sucker ranks right up there as being the cheapest to make. Even more interesting is half of the adjuncts are flaked oats...first time I've seen that high a dose anyway. As with other milds, lots of really dark No 3 invert.

Mash
Single infusion with a single underletting. Not much of a big deal huh? Pretty standard for the time as with that much invert, there will be a good amount of unfermented dextrins left behind. Well, actually I really think it affected the beer quite a bit. Seeing that the oats make up 12% of the entire mash there is going to be a very large amount of beta-glucans. Beta-glucans are basically sorts of gums that, amongst other things, add that 'texture' that using a good portion of oats give you...I guess its more of a silky sensation than anything. To the point, this thing would have been chewier tasting that the final gravity would indicate. Its also worth mentioning that the amount of water used in the mash is nearly 2x as much as usual. Its most assuredly because of the oats.

Hops
This is a conundrum. Low quality malts, very fresh hops and quite a high BU count for the 'style'. The hops are only 1.5 years old at most with a third of them less than 7 months old.






Tasting notes
Deep brown with notes of figs, cherry cordial and dark caramel. Oat reek with a chewy plum filed oat scone finish. Spicy hoppy middle with a good dose of bitterness that drys out the end.

Sugar, sugar

"I discovered something really fascinating about the relative prices of malt, sugar and maize in WW I today, Dolores. . . . Dolores . . . Dolores!"

Apparently it isn't quite as fascinating as I'd imagined. The relative price thing. It's no wonder I hang around on the interweb so much. All the actual people around me, bizarrely, have no interest in discussing the price of brewing sugar in WW I. Philistines.

Right, so I've just trawled through Barclay Perkins WW I brewing logs noting down the prices of everything. Very nice of them to include the information. The results make fascinating reading. Maybe not to my family, but to me.

Between 1914 and 1920, the price of malt about trebled. The cost of maize increased a little more, by three and a half times. But the biggest jump was in the price of brewing sugar which, at its peak in late 1918-early 1919, was more than six times as expensive as it had been at the start of the war. Sugar went from costing a third less than malt per quarter to 50% more.



What's also striking is the complete disappearance of the more specialist types of malt - PA, SA and mild malt - in 1918 and 1919. No maize at all was used between October 1917 and October 1919. The reduction in the variety of brewing materials available inevitably had an impact on recipes and the character of finished beers.

An American view of cask conditioning ca. 1900

I'm constantly finding stuff that I wasn't looking for. Often it's more interesting that what I'd been after. This is a good case in point. I was searching for material on invert sugar, but tripped over this.

This is of part of a report on a trip taken by a group of American brewers to Britain. The author doesn't seem that impressed with cask-conditioning and predicts its demise. How prescient. I wonder if he could have imagined, a century later, American brewers messing around with casks and shives?

Storage of Ales.

A very small quantity of English ales is stored in vats, but stout is still matured in large oak vessels of great capacity ; particularly by Messrs. Guinness and other Irish brewers. Otherwise the fermented ale is run directly into the trade casks and these are kept in the beer storage; having a temperature of about 55° F, for a few days in the case of mild ales for quick consumption, (but for several months in the case of pale ales for draught and bottling purposes and strong ales of 1090 to 1110 Sp. Grav. 21.49%—25.85%B).

During this period of storage the ale is not interfered with in any way, except that any excess pressure produced by this fermentation is relieved by inserting in the bung what is known as a porous peg, which is a small peg made of very porous wood.

When the time of delivery arrives, the casks are filled up and finings are added to the casks, so that when a cask is placed in a customer's cellar, the beer quickly brightens.

Krausening of beer is very rarely practiced, and I have not heard of the use of chips.

The beer on arrival in the customer's cellar is allowed to settle from a few hours up to several weeks, according to whether it is a mild ale (quick consumption) or a pale or strong ale, stronger ales requiring a longer period to brighten, although it would be considered a very stubborn beer which was not absolutely brilliant within one week of delivery.

The gas condition of beer in the customer's cellar is regulated by a porous peg, as in the beer storage.

Excessive condition is very difficult to deal with in the customer's cellar, as the beer is drawn for distribution in the "Bar" (Saloon) by the aid of a pump, which would cause the sediment to rise in the barrel if there was too much gas condition in the beer.

Beer is not drawn through pipes kept cool by means of water or ice as in this country.

Drawing by means of gas or air pressure has been tried, but the cost and the fact that the English casks are not made to withstand this additional pressure, have much retarded the application of such systems. It is probable, however, that within the near future a gradual disappearance of the pumping systems, to which there are many objections, will take place.
"Transactions of the American Brewing Institute" 1907, pages 255-256.

Barrel-aged Russian Stout

Thanks to Gary Gillman for bringing this fascinating article to my attention. It's writer Cyril Ray's account of a visit to Courage and Barclay's "Russian cellars"

The old London brewing firm of Courage and Barclay has decided, after all, to resume the brewing of its Russian Imperial Stout, a noble product that had been under sentence of death as being too expensive to make and not in wide enough demand. Indeed, brewing was suspended throughiout 1964 and 1965, although this beer in the past had been breweed each year, just before Christmas. The directors have now come to the conclusion that they owe something to tradition, and in the summer of 1966 a beer that was first brewed in the late eighteenth century will be brewed again. On hearing of the reprieve I went along to what are still called "the Russian cellars," at the Courage and Barclay headquarters by Southwark Bridge to sink a celebratory bottle.

Russian Imperial Stout is so called because, as long ago as 1795, Catherine the Great, according to one of her contemporaries, "ordered repeatedly very large quantities for her own drinking and that of her Court." The beer was brewed in recent years at the Courage brewery in Horsleydown Lane and matured in the Russian cellars for two months in cask, before being given another year in bottle.

The firms visitors' bar stood me a bottle of the 1962 Russian Stout. This is not the latest brew, but is the one that most pubs would have that stock it. The 1963, bottled in 1964, is barely ready yet, and those publican who buy it will be giving it a little more bottle-age than the minimum of a year that it gets in the Russian cellars. Russian Stout is sold in "nip" bottles that hold about one-third of a pint, as against the half-pint of a standard beer bottle - quite enough to be going on with, for Russian Stout is about twice as strong as Guinness, half as strong again as Bass Barley Wine, and the nip is said to pack the same alcoholic punch as four whiskies. Nobody, my expert hosts told me, could floor more than four at one go and not show the effects.

A smooth, rich, velvety depth-charge of a drink - sweet, but with the sweetness only of the malt, for there is no added sugar, and yet with the bitter tang of hops. "Not quite so great a brew as the 1951," said one of my companions, going on to explain that slight differences of temperatures and humidity during the brewing and bottling can affect the quality of a fine beer, and that the year's climate can influence the quality of the malt.

This led him to invite me down to the Russian cellars to taste one or two that had been specially bottled and long matured. First the 1957, poured from a pint champagne bottle that had been corked and wired, exactly like champagne, and matured lying on its side. (Beer which is crown-corked - that is, with a metal closure - must stand up; if it has an ordinary cork, it must lie down like wine) The cork came out with a pop, and the beer frothed creamily into the glass, dark and rich. Smoother than the 1962, I thought, but it was surpassed by the 1948 which came from a full-sized champagne bottle, smelled like burgundy and drank like liquid silk.

My brewer friends told me that they could not always be sure that a bottle as old as this would be as good, but that Russian Stout had a great capacity for ageing. (In 1796, Farington recorded in his diary that he drank some of the Porter from Thrale's brewhouse - the same beer - and that "it was specially brewed for the Empress of Russia and would keep seven years.") Clearly, it is capable of keeping - and improving - over a much longer period, and I asked whether these champagne bottles of Russian Stout were generally available for laying down like claret. Alas, no, but the ordinary nips keep quite well - I have recorded in these columns how, earlier this year, I took a nip of 1958 Russian Stout and one of 1961 over to Dublin, to drink with Bryan Guinness. We found the 1958 in better condition, with more life and sparkle, but the 1961 had the more style and the cleaner finish.

The authorities in Courage and Barclay's Russian cellar told me how to make extra sure that the nips would keep really well. This is done by covering the crown cork with ordinary sealing wax, to make the bottle really airtight, making sure you get under the skirts - if you will pardon the expression - of the cork.
"Cyril Ray Cracks a Bottle of 1948 Russian Stout" an article published in Queen magazine.

My first though on reading this was; "I wonder if any of these champagne-bottled Russian Stouts still exist and where the hell can I get my hands on one." Anyone any clues?

How to look in archives

I've had a couple of queries about archives. How do you find where brewing records are. How do you get access to them. That sort of thing.

It would be great if more people would start looking at the wonderful treasure trove that archived brewing records form. I can't possibly get round it all myself. So here are a few tips to get started.


Where are brewing records kept?

In two main places:

1. Public archives. These are mostly run by local authorities, but there are others at universities. At many, you can just turn up at and request to see documents. This entails filling in a form with the document number and waiting for 15 - 20 minutes for then to fetch it from storage. At the London Metropolitan Archives you can order up to five documents at a time. Its opening times are:
   Monday, Wednesday and Friday 9.30am - 4.45pm,
   Tuesday and Thursday 9.30am - 7.30pm


2. Company archives. Getting to see these is more of a problem. They aren't generally open to the public and you'll have to ask nicely if you can come and take a peek.

How can I find brewing records?

In the case of the UK, it couldn't be easier. The National Archives has a search engine that covers most of the publicly held archives. You need to search for things like "gyle book", "brewing book" or search for production records of breweries. You'd be amazed how much there is. I've not really looked for the brewing records elsewhere as I haven't finished with the London Metropolitan Archives yet.

Canada seems to have something similar in the Archives Canada site.

I've not been able to find a centralised search site for the USA, but I have been able to track down archives with brewery records. For example, the University of Wisconsin and Northwest Digital Archives. I'm sure there are many more.


How can I record what I find?
Some archives allow you to take photocopies, but often that isn't allowed for material bound as a book in case the spine is damaged. Photography (without a flash) is usually permitted.


So go on. Get researching. You've no excuse not to.

Getting poetic

Here's another poignant comment. Brewing logs often contain details of the weather. Air temperature, rain, thunderstorms. That sort of thing. This is rather more poetic description.

"Black fog all day. And like a ball enshrouded us."

It's scribbled in pencil on the log of a batch of Barclay Perkins X Ale brewed December 16th 1916.

Note that there no longer seems to be a shortage of amber malt. This brew contains both amber and crystal malt. Look closely and you might see something else of interest. Can you spot it? Here's a clue, it's to do with the prices.

OK, I'll tell you. The crystal malt was 58 shillings a quarter and the maize 62 shillings. That's right. The maize was dearer than some of the malt. In 1914, maize had been just 26 shillings a quarter and crystal malt 32 shillings.

It's a world gone mad, when adjuncts are more expensive than malt. There will be more about the price of ingredients in WW I soon. Is that a threat or a promise?

Short of amber

Brewers often had to improvise during WW I. Ingredients were in short supply and getting all the right malts was tricky. Here's an example.

This is part of a log for Barclay Perkins X Ale, brewed 25th April 1916. You 'll see that the recipe has been changed in red ink. Crystal malt has been substituted for amber malt. The comment "short of amber" explains why.

The substitution must have had an impact on the flavour of the finished beer. But perhaps drinkers were too pleased to actually have a pint in their hands to quibble about its exact taste. It would get worse as the war progressed and German U-boats tightened their grip. There were times in 1917 when the recipes (and sometimes strengths) changed almost daily.

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1942 Barclay Perkins KK

This week it's a kitchen sink beer from our old friends Barclay Perkins. I picked out this beer because of its weird and wonderful list of ingredients. There was a war on, you know.

KK was part of the standard range of draught beers of London breweries. It was usually the strongest draught beer you'd find in a pub. Its origins can be fiound in the 19th century when breweries had two sets of Ales: mild X Ales and Stock (or Keeping) K Ales. Dark and quite well-hopped, it doesn't fit well with modern style calassifications.

In the public bar, KK would have been called "Burton". In the 1930's it sold for 8d a pint and had a gravity of around 1055. Burton was still a standard option in London pubs well past WW II. It gradually petered out in the 1960's. In the 1970's Fuller's dropped their Burton and replaced it with ESB. Currently, the only survivor of the style is Young's Winter Warmer, which had its name changed, presumably when the monicker Burton became a liability.

Now here's Kristen tio guide you further . . .



Barley Perkins 1942 KK

Drum roll....for the first beer in the anything alcoholic month of June is....BP's 1942 KK (one K shy of being evil). This beer is the epitome of being ANYTHING alcoholic. It has pretty much everything you could possible throw into a beer. Is it a mild? Hmm...maybe? This is definitely not really like anything else we've ever done on this thing.

Brewing liquor
This is one of the most tanted brewing liquors I have seen. 6 different brewing salts are added to create the 'KK' brewing water. Lots of gypsum and epsom salts. If you want to make it more 'traditional' I would suggest the following for a start:
Gyp - 3g/ gal (4L)
Ep - 2g/ gal (4L)
Chalk - 0.5g/ gal (4L)

Grist
Its definitely not as big as older versions of the KK but its got a good amount of crystal and sugars in it. These aren't the dark sugars as most of the color comes from the dark caramel colorant. The two pale malts are actually mild malts. Its hard enough finding one mild malt
so substituting any good quality pale malts would work just fine. Nearly 5% of this sucker is rye malt which is higher than I've seen in any other beer. Speaking of which, there are nearly 25% adjunct ingredients!

Hops
The hops are relatively fresh and suprisingly quite high. With around 40bu of bitterness this beer would pack a pretty good punch ESPECIALLY with the lower gravity.





Tasting notes
Graham crackers, Scottish biscuits and a touch of dark fruity figs. Lots of hay in the nose with hints of minerals. Lots of spicy hops and rye in the flavor. Some light sultanas and toast from the amber malt. The bitterness comes through quickly and brightens up the finish. The mineral character really drys out the end and extends the flavor for quite a while.

Lots of sugar

I'm sure I mentioned my trip to London this week. Yesterday, it was. These day trips are a bit of an endurance test. I'm still knackered.

I'll be busy for weeks combing through everything, but I thought I'd give you a random taste. As we were halfway through a conversation about sugar, that seems a good place to start. I photographed logs from quite a few new breweries and guess what? They all used sugar. Lots of different types.

Russells Gravesend Brewery did something I'd not seen before. Use cane sugar, invert sugar and glucose in the same brew. And, just for good measure, something called "tintose". I suppose that's a proprietary sugar. In case you're wondering, it's from 1929 and the beer is 6d Ale. Best Mild, you could call it. OG 1041.55. Sugar made up 14% of the grist.

Dora's demise

There's a funny story behind why I bought this book. Well, maybe not funny. A story, anyway.

It's all because of a blog post. One on Called to the Bar. This post to be precise. Doubtless you can guess when grabbed my attention. The rows and rows of beer books. Poor, sad bastard that I am, I pored over the photograph searching for volumes I didn't possess. One that caught my eye was "Beer is Best" by John Watney. A few seconds later I'd ordered a copy from Abebooks.

It's not the greatest book ever written about beer. And there are some pretty enormous factual errors (John thinks pub closing times were only introduced in WW I). But this passage about licensing hours is eerily prescient.

"With Britain in Europe, it would seem again as if the end of D.O.R.A. [Defence of the Realm Act that drastically cut pub opening hours in WW I] must now surely be in sight. European countries have never had licensing hours. Cafés, bistros, beer-kellers and ristorantes open and close when they like. It has always been possible, after a long mountain trek for instance, to stop at half-past three at a foreign inn and have a cooling draught of lager.

Continental habits are expected to be adopted increasingly in the British Isles, along with decimalization, metrication and the other systems in use in Europe. Surely tough old D.O.R.A. will not be able to hold out much longer? Or will she, in order to survive, adopt the nationalist mantle and declare that, despite the evidence of history, it is somehow British to have strictly regulated opening and closing hours? We shall see."
"Beer is Best" by John Watney, 1974, pages 50 - 51.

As it happens, D.O.R.A. is pretty much dead. Though his assertion that continental countries never had closing times is pretty wide of the mark.

How many books?

I've tried getting the kids catalogue my books. Lexie did a couple of shelves. The ones with rows of bound copies of trade magazines. He's no fool. Those are a piece of piss. He lost interest when he got to the Swedish brewery histories. I can't say I blame him.

No definitive list, then. But I am intrigued as to how many books I have. I'm a bit obsessive about counting things. I'm probably totally nuts. So I just counted them. It's not a 100% accurate count. I might have missed the odd one. And Mike has borrowed a couple.

470.

That's in the football field of what I imagined. I'd sort of hoped it was 500. Not to worry. Promise not to tell Dolores this. More are on their way. "You can never have too many books." I say. "Yes you can, Ronald." Dolores disagrees.

Hang on. I didn't include digital books. Wonder how many of them I have?

Sawdust beer

The British parliament isn't what it was. As these quotes from the debate on the Beer Bill of 1901 prove.

After the passing of the Free Mash Tun Act in 1880, which allowed brewers to use anything that wasn't harmful in the production of beer, there were various attempts to re-impose control on brewing ingredients. The 1901 Beer Bill proposed having two classes of drink: "malt beer" and "part-malt beer".

Sir Cuthbert Quiller spoke eloquently of the injurious effect of the Free Mash Tun Act:

"I should, however, like to point out once more the extraordinary increase of the use of sugar in proportion to malt that has taken place since 1880. In 1870 the quantity of sugar used in brewing was ; 295,000 cwts. ; in 1899 the quantity had increased to 2,943,752 cwts., or ten times the amount. To illustrate what the free mash tun has led to. I hold in my hand a Patent, No. 12241, which was taken out in 1899, for an improved process of converting wood, wood shavings, wood fibre and sawdust, as well as other materials, into glucose and alcohol. I think, Sir, you will agree with me that, if we are to consume glucose at all we i should certainly prefer it to be derived from some other source than sawdust. I am assured that this process has been employed in Germany for the past ten years — for export only, I imagine. Whether the patent lights have been exercised in this country I am unable to say, but, at any rate, 1 think it shows conclusively the necessity for enabling the public to obtain beer which they know has not been derived from any such source."

I don't understand his point. What could possibly be wrong with beer made from sawdust?

Consumer choice, Sir Cuthbert insisted, was what it was all about:

"We are prepared to let the public choose for themselves. The two classes of liquor which are defined in the Bill will stand on their own merits and fight their own battles for popular favour. We are told that people for the most part prefer beer made from chemicals, bright and sparkling. If that is so, they should welcome this Bill, because when they are thirsting for a glass of that chemical beer, which is so much the fashion, there will be no chance of their swallowing any of that thick heavy muddy stuff called "malt beer," which but for this Bill might be thrust upon them. De gustibus non est disputandum. But each person ought to be able to get what kind he likes, whether chemical or otherwise. I have found it very difficult to reconcile the zeal with which advocates of glucose and substitutes defend their concoctions as superior to old-fashioned malt and hops with their anxiety to be allowed to trade under the title of a drink which they assert to be inferior. The principle of warranty is one which it is difficult to attack, and it is this principle which furnishes one of the grounds upon which I ask the House to pass the Bill. It is the principle which underlies all legislation with respect not only to the adulteration of food, but to trade marks, the hall marking of precious metals, and like public safeguards. It is a principle which is already applied by law to beer in the greatest beer-drinking country in the world, and in most other countries force of public opinion is such as to render the employment of substitutes practically non-existent."

Mmmm, lovely chemical beer. "Two pints of chemical and a pint of malt, please." Who wouldn't want to be able to say that at the bar?



(Source: "The parliamentary debates", 1901, pages 1466 - 146.)

Why is British lager so weak?

Ever wondered why British lager is usually so much weaker than it is in the rest of Europe? This might help explain it.

"In accordance with the announcement made in the House of Commons by the Minister of Food on March 24th, 1947, arrangements have been made for the importation of beer under individual licence from Continental countries. The maximum gravity permitted will be 1036 degrees (before fermentation). Importation will not be confined to pre-war importers and there will be no restriction on quantities.

"Re-exports will not be permitted except for ships' and aircraft stores. Importation for such re-export will not be restricted to a maximum gravity of 1036 degrees and separate applications for import licences should be submitted."
"The Brewing Trade Review 1947" page 367

Take a look at the table of Lagers below. See how the strength of Carlsberg sold in Britain fell between 1939 and 1950.


Heineken brewed a beer especially for the British market. The Pils they sold everywhere else had an OG of around 1048º and was 4.7% ABV. For Britain, it was 1032º and 3% ABV.

Did you like these numbers? These - and many more - are available for your delectation in "Numbers!", my latest Mini Book.

Why sugar is inverted

I'd been hoping to find something like this. An explanation of why brewers used invert sugar rather than straight cane sugar:

"It is more usual to add sugars to the wort in which they are fermented together with the maltose of the malt. The sugars generally employed are cane sugar, invert sugar — which is most largely used — and glucose. Refined cane sugar has to be inverted by the yeast before fermentation, and to a certain extent weakens the yeast, favouring the production of lactic acid, so that it is preferable to invert the sugar first."
(Source: "Chemistry for engineers and manufacturers" by Bertram Blount, Arthur George Bloxam, 1896, pages 193-194.)

Refined sugar vs invert sugar

This is a good one. I've seen it argued by homebrewers that brewing sugars are a waste of money. The line of reasoning goes that you may as well use table sugar as this will be inverted in the wort by invertase excreted by the yeast. Sounds reasonable enough.

But hang on a minute. Why the hell do breweries use invert brewing sugar if it's just the same as cheap refined sugar? Isn't sugar just sugar?

No, it isn't. Brewing sugar isn't just inverted refined sugar. It's inverted raw cane sugar. This contains more than just sucrose. And it's these "impurities" that provide the flavours brewers are looking for.

"Invert sugar made from refined sugar lacks the lusciousness and other characteristics desirable in a brewing sugar, so that raw cane sugars are generally used. In addition to invert sugar, uninverted saccharose and water, therefore, commercial invert contains from 0.2 to 0.7% of albuminoids, from 3 to 6% of unfermentable organic matter and from i to 3.5% of mineral matter, the latter being partly derived from the raw material and partly introduced as calcium carbonate to neutralise the acid used in effecting hydrolysis. Sulphuric acid is generally employed as hydrolyst because the comparative insolubility of calcium sulphate makes it possible to eliminate most of the mineral matter introduced for the purpose of neutralisation.

Raw beet sugar could not be used for the production of brewers' invert, on account of the objectionable flavour of the secondary constituents. No such objection would attach to the use of hightly refined beet sugar, but highly refined sugars are not used for the reasons already stated. Occasionally invert sugar is made from a mixture of raw cane sugar and high- grade raw beet sugars (first runnings) and the origin of such invert sugar is not readily detected by the palate or nose. It is, however, desirable to exclude it from the brewery, and this can usually be done by limiting the permissible percentage of albuminoids, which is higher in beet than in cane products. Brewers' invert is supplied in three grades, and it is reasonable to require them to contain less than the following percentages of albuminoids: No. I, 0.3%; No. II, 0.5%; and No. Ill, 0.75%. A good No. Ill will comply with the standard here set up for No. I, so that the above limits cannot be unduly stringent."
"Allen's commerical organic analysis", 1917, pages 7-8.

Inverting the stuff you buy in the supermarket to sweeten your tea won't give you brewing sugar. You need to start with a less refined sugar. Something like demerera sugar, I guess.