Let's brew Wednesday - Fullers 1920 XX

I know. It isn't Wednesday. Not even Thursday. And there have been many weeks with no recipe at all. Blame Kristen. He had some lame excuse connected with work and family. I don't let either of those get in my way.

One thing that surprised me about the heyday of Mild was this: most breweries only made one. Even when it made up perhaps 40% of sales, there was just a single variant. (I'm talking 1880 to 1914 here.) After WW I, London brewers mostly continued producing something like Government Ale, a just alcoholic type of Mild. A few, however, brewed a stronger Mild. One over 1040.

Which brings us to today's beer, Fuller's XX. X's big brother. Best Mild, you could call it. The perfect beer for a hot summer day. If you add a little ice.


Time for Kristen to do his thing . . . . . . (Feel free to comment on the new format. This is how we're planning to present the recipes in the 1909 Beer Style Guide.) . . . . . .

Fullers - 1920 - XX
General info: Very different from most of the other mild ales of the time this beer makes your eyes lie to you as it is very dark. This beer is composed entirely of pale malts and pale adjuncts with one except, a heavy dose of caramel color. The use of 100% Hallertauer-type hops is very interesting and lends a more elegant quality. All things being equal, this is a very nice, smooth easy to drink beer. A brown liquid for the masses. This beer was gyled into the XX and the weaker X(5H).
Beer Specifics			Recipe by percentages
Gravity (OG)	1.041		45.9% English pale malt			1.8% Caramel color
Gravity (FG)	1.007		35.1% 6-row malt
ABV	4.53%		13.5% Flaked maize
Apparent attenuation	82.93%		3.6% Glucose
Real attenuation	67.93%
IBU	21.0		Mash	90min@150°F		0.96qt/lb
SRM	29.0			90min@65.6°C		2.01L/kg
EBC	76.9
			Boil	90 min
	Homebrew @ 70%				Craft @ 80%
Grist	5gal		19L		10bbl		10hl
English pale malt	3.61	lb	1.644	kg	195.67	lb	75.60	kg
6-row malt	2.76	lb	1.257	kg	149.63	lb	57.81	kg
Flaked maize	1.06	lb	0.483	kg	57.55	lb	22.24	kg
Glucose	0.28	lb	0.127	kg	15.35	lb	5.93	kg
Caramel color	0.14	lb	0.064	kg	7.67	lb	2.96	kg
					425.87
Hops
Hallertauer3.5% 90min	1	oz	28.4	g	63	oz	1.522	kg
Hallertauer3.5% 30min	0.5	oz	14.2	g	31	oz	0.749	kg
Fermentation	69°F /20.6°C
Yeast	Nottingham ale
	WLP002 English Ale Yeast
	Wyeast 1968 London ESB
Tasting Notes: Elegant meadow flowers floral and a touch of spice. A boat load of husky grain with a healthy does of polenta. Absolutely no roast or dark malt character argues with the deep brown color. It finishes very, very dry with a strong black tea character that screams to be paired with something sweet.

Ingredients and technique

Grist & such
The base malt for this recipe was nearly split in two between aged English pale malt and the husky American 6-row. A good portion of flaked maize would have added a touch of corn character, polenta-esque if you will. This was quite a malty beer in that there was only 6% or so of brewing sugars all of which are pale. The caramel colorant added 95% of the color to this beer making it very dark with bright crimson hues. The caramel colorant is absolutely mandatory so either use Sinemar or make your own to replace it

Hops
Another oddity is the fact that all of the hops came from the Alsace region of France which is historically known for growing very elegant Hallertauer-type hops. The hops were neither old nor young but at 21bu there was definitely enough bitterness and hops added to be able to taste them. This beer was not dry hopped.

Mash & Boil
Very straightforward single infusion mash with an underlet and stand for 90min. One could probably shorten it to 60min with all the 6-row in the recipe. A 90 min will suffice to ensure that no raw corn-like flavors carry over to the finished product.

Fermentation, Conditioning & Serving
A warm fermentation added a little spicy note to the beer which was done fermenting in about 4 days. It was then only cask condition for about a week which would have definitely left this beer with some elbows and a ‘raw’ character. Carbonation at around 1.9 vol and served within two weeks.

Gyling & Blending
There were two beers made from this mash. The stronger XX and the weaker X(5H). This mash was broken down into 3 different gyles. The third gyle (the return) was not hopped and not dosed with sugar as can be see by the gravity (1.002). Use water for this gyle. All the sugar and caramel goes equally into each of the first two gyles as does the hop charges. The hopping is equally divided based on the volume of the gyle and the total hopping rate as indicated and added at the times shown above. The volumes are gal, liters, bbls and hL’s as indicated per column.

XX	5gal	19L	10bbl	10hL
G1 - vol	4.70	17.86	9.40	9.40
G1 - grav	1.044	1.044	1.044	1.044
G1 - BU	20	20	20	20
G2 - vol	0.00	0.00	0.00	0.00
G2 - grav	1.033	1.033	1.033	1.033
G2 - BU	21	21	21	21
G3 - vol	0.30	1.14	0.60	0.60
G3 - grav	1.000	1.000	1.000	1.000
G3 - BU	0	0	0	0
Hopping	0.97oz/gal	7.26g/L	1.88lb/bbl	0.73kg/hL
Totals	OG 1.041	FG 1.007	BU 18.8	Abv 4.5%

5H	5gal	19L	10bbl	10hL
G1 - vol	0.00	0.00	0.00	0.00
G1 - grav	1.044	1.044	1.044	1.044
G1 - BU	20	20	20	20
G2 - vol	4.65	17.67	9.30	9.30
G2 - grav	1.033	1.033	1.033	1.033
G2 - BU	21	21	21	21
G3 - vol	0.35	1.33	0.70	0.70
G3 - grav	1.000	1.000	1.000	1.000
G3 - BU	0	0	0	0
Hopping	0.97oz/gal	7.26g/L	1.88lb/bbl	0.73kg/hL
Totals	OG 1.031	FG 1.005	BU 19.5	Abv 3.3%

What would you do?

I'm often confronted by this type of dilemma. I'd be interested to learn if you'd handle it any differently to me.

This is the situation. You've got an hour-long train ride. And you've got a bit of a thirst. Fresh out of work and gagging for a drink. What do you get for the train?

- four half-litre cans of 12% tramp juice
- a small bottle of Famous Grouse

Remember, the journey will last at least an hour.

What would you do?



This isn't a hypothetical question. I found myself in this position just last week.

Barclay Perkins Porter and Best Stout 1913 - 1922

You've had too much entertainment in the last couple of days. Time to return to educative tables.

The London Metropolitan Archives has a wonderful collection of brewing logs from the capital's major breweries. From just after 1800 right up to the 1970's. Except there are a few gaps. In particular, the Barclay Perkins Porter logs from the last decades of the 19th century until the 1920's. Which has left some holes in my wonderful gravity table.

But I've discovered a way around this problem. The gyle summary books for WW I are in the archive. They give the amount brewed, the amount racked and the costs of raw materials. Crucially, there's also the number of standard barrels. That's for tax purposes, as duty was paid per standard barrel. A standard barrel has a gravity of 1055. Using this and the number of barrels brewed it's a piece of piss to calculate the actual gravity.

You can see the results below:

TT = Porter, BS = Best Stout.

Why are there numbers missing for TT? Because it wasn't brewed for almost two years.

I was surprised how low the gravity was in 1914. About as aweak as London beers got. By the early 1920's it was even weaker, venturing into barely alcoholic territory.

Best Stout, on the other hand, was brewed right through the war and never dropped below 1050. A very respectable gravity for the darkest days of the war. No wonder many switched from Porter to Stout.

Beer at Christmas

I love Christmas. Almost as much as I loved it as a kid. Though for different reasons. It's the season of excess. And nothing exceeds like excess. I never worry about cracking open a beer before 10 AM. But on Christmas day a Keith Floyd whisky breakfast comes guilt free.

I don't plan my Christmas drinking as much as stumble into it. Then stumble through it. And end in some type of unconsciousness. Beer and food pairing is paramount to my enjoyment of the day. St. Bernardus Abt with a Lagavullin leg-loosener matches any meal or munchie perfectly. And any mood or time of day.

Unfortunately, this year may be different. "Why don't you drink all those beers you have lying around before buying new ones?" Dolores is way too logical. But opposing her isn't a good idea. I still have the scars - both mental and physical - from the last time I tried. Looks like I'll be lapping up leeftovers.

There's a bottle of Hoppin Frog BORIS The Crusher that I picked up in New Jersey. At over 9% ABV, it should match present-opening well. As long as I wash it down with enough Islay. Anything to drown out the noise of the kids. Little bastards seem to think it's their bloody day. And its roasty Stoutiness should counterpoint the baconiness of my breakfast sandwich perfectly.

For that hour lull between the screaming and tearing of present-opening and the first round of dinner, I'll need something light. Something to suck on slowly while I indulge in a special seasonal treat - surfing the internet. What would be perfect: De Molen Rook en Vuur. I've still got a box of that. A touch of fire on the tongue will get me in arguing mood. Perfect for beer forum festive fun. And at only 9% ABV or so, it won't hit the brain cells too hard. A couple of shots of Lagavullin should put that right.

We usually have smoked salmon or some other such poshery as a starter. This would be the point where I'd switch to a nice dry sherry. But there's all that beer to drink up. Maybe the Goudenband that's been sat in the kitchen most of the year would be a good substitute. Or, even better idea, one of the ancient beers hidden under the stairs. They're all oxidised to hell. Just like sherry. Any one should do. Its stale, mustiness will lift the fishy freshness of the fish.

Dolores will insist I drink wine with the main course. But that doesn't mean I can't have a beer as well. And some Lagavullin to keep it company. We'll be eating goose, so I'll need something to cut through all the grease. Something zingy, spritzy and Stouty. De Molen Kopi Loewak Coffee Stout should do. Best drink it before the bottle explodes. Cat shit and goose - a marriage made in heaven.

I don't eat pudding. A liquid substitute seems only fair. Something rich and chocolatey. And Stouty. De Molen Mout & Mocca will do the trick. It comes in a convenient, one-person-sized 75cl bottle. With a side of whiskey, it should set me up for the afternoon. Perhaps I'll indulge in a nut or two. A hazelnut-chocolate juxtaposition could make my spirit soar.

This is when I need an eye-opener. Literally. A beer to sip in the odd snatched moment of conciousness. I think there's still a bottle of Sierra Nevada Bigfoot. At just 9.6% ABV, it shouldn't be too soporific. That's the job of the Lagavullin. If there's any left.

By the time tea time rolls around, I should be in the mood. In the mood for food. And pairing. What goes best with fancy sandwiches? Difficult one, that. Some would recommend a light beer, like Pilsener. Others a proletarian Brown Ale. After all that Stout, a change of pace will be in order. I know. Porter would be perfect. A box of it still obstructs my bedroom . Two bottles of 1914 Porter for tea. With tea. . . . With tea.

Then it'll be time for another snooze. Dolores hates it when I keep nodding off. Best go for something that will keep me alert. Stone XIII. The brewery describes it like this: "Up front, the aroma is all piney, resinous and citrus hops." Sounds like a tongue-stripping horror. The annoyance of C hops should keep me from the land of Nod. If only because of the shouting and swearing. Shop-bought cheesy biscuits will help round the edges.

After that, my taste buds will be shot. Only one solution: finish the day by finishing the Lagavullin.

That's my plan. Should be a radical day, dude. I would ask what you'll be drinking for Christmas. But reading someone else's drinks menu is, well, effing boring.

Christmas poll

As I look back and survey the wreckage of the past year, it's time to reflect. To think about the last twelve months. Its highs. Its lows. Its boringly in the middle bits. And you can help.

Time for a poll. A year-end, Christmas roundup, jamboree poll. The results will tell us much about our collective year. Were we a success or a drooling, urine-soaked failure?

We'll know on the 22nd of December.

Essen Kerstbierfestival 2009

I'm a creature of habit. I go to the Kerstbierfestival every year. This year was no exception.

Andrew didn't fancy it this time. He preferred spending the day rotting away his brain with some game or other. Bloody youth of today. Lexie volunteering to come took me aback. Didn't think he cared much for beer festivals.

I soon twigged why Lexie was so keen. He wanted an excuse to watch the Simpsons episodes he'd just loaded onto his ipod. Perhaps he wouldn't be quite as good company as I had hoped. Bloody youth of today, always got their faces glued to a screen. It wasn't like that in my day. We spent our days running wild across streams and fields, at one with nature. Yes, really. Apart from when the telly was on. Or it was raining. Or Sunday.

Where was I? Bloody youth of today.

Mike always works at the festival. Everyone has to work sometime. It could be worse than one Saturday in December. He'd tried to persuade me to take the 08:37 train from Amsterdam Centraal. "Too bloody early." was my succinct reply. I managed to persuade him to go an hour later. It's alright for Mike. He just has a few minutes stroll to the station. I'm a tram ride away.

Once seated on the train, I took out my special treat for the trip. Beckbräu Bierschnapps (thanks Gunnar). A nice little eye-opener. The cloudy, urine-like hue didn't put Mike off. Nor me. Though he showed admirable restraint. Saving himself for work, I guess. I found it went very nicely with the St. Bernardus Abt I'd decanted into plastic bottles. No point dying of thirst en route.

Lexie and Mike we soon getting on disturbingly well. Now they had a Mac device in common. While tried to interest myself in polders and cows, they checked out each other apps (whatever they are). Very entertaining. For them. Bloody youth of today. Am I the only person without my face permanently glued to a screen? Even Mike was up to it. Bloody old of today.

The Dutch high speed train line is just getting up to speed. A scheduled passenger train exceeded 300 kph for the first time at the weekend. I think that's why went via Den Bosch to Rosendaal. Where we had the traditional half hour wait for the local train that pootles over the border. Just enough time for a nose warmer in the station bar.


Mike's even more habitual than me. I knew he'd have a stop planned at the bakery between Essen station and the festival site. I bought some ham and two chocolate baked things for Lexie.

As we neared the hall Mike unexpectedly said: "The festival doesn't start for another hour. I can get into the hall, but you'll have to wait outside." Thanks Mike. It's freezing cold, all the pubs are shut and I'm dying for a wee. You total, total, total bastard. Bloody old of today.

I soon realised I wasn't going to find a toilet in time. Thank god for bushes, that's all I say. I was within a minute of a very embarrassing trouser moment.

There was only one place to wait out the cold hour ahead of us. The chippie. That was open. We went in. What to have? Grey lumps, pretending to be meat, filled the chilled display. Maybe just stick to chips. And beer, obviously. Even Jupiler was better than going thirsty. The wait was long enough to justify two.

We joined a fairly long queue, Lexie and I, outside the hall. Luckily, it was moving reasonably quickly. Soon we were inside, warm and I had a glass and ten tokens in my hand. What to try first?

I didn't even open the programme. I walked straight up to Mike and said "A St. Bernardus Kerstbier, please. And make it snappy. I've spent the last hour freezing my bollocks off." That's what I wanted to say. Being polite, I stopped after the first sentence.

The afternoon passed quickly. We found the Washington mob and soon beer had faded into the background, lubricating, not driving, the talk. We enjoyed a few of those happy hours, where nothing exists but the here and the now, the company and the conversation, trapped in an amber moment.

Tim Webb wandered by with a film crew. Lexie gave an interview. He was annoyingly charming. Bloody youth of today, always taking over.

Before I knew it, there was Mike saying "time for bed". Where the hell had the hours gone?

Our route back was almost 100% different from the one we'd taken in the morning. But at least there was only one change. Jumping off at Woerden and heading for Bodegraven crossed my mind. But, as I've told you many times, I'm lazier than a sloth on valium.

Lexie got himself a shoarma before we got the tram home. Isn't it Mike who's supposed to do that? Bloody whatever of today.

Whitbread Porter & Stout 1901 - 1912

Because Gary Gilman asked, here are the details of Whitbread's Edwardian Porters and Stouts. The ones I gave production figures for a couple of days ago.


That's it. A very short post.

Whitbread beer production by type 1915 - 1927

I told you there would be more. Time for part II of Whitbread beer production by type.

This is where things get exciting. WW I. You must be able to remember the dramatic effect it had on British beer. I've told you often enough. 1917 and 1918 were the end of the line for almost half of Whitbread's products. KKK, 2KKK, 2PA, FA, SS and SSS were never brewed again.


At the end of the war, Whitbread's range had been stripped to the bones. Just MA, PA, IPA, Porter and London Stout. This paring down seemed to have a permanent effect. Some of them contradictory.

Stock Ales were the big winner. In 1914, they accounted for just over 1% of output and looked on their way to extinction. By 1927 that had risen to 10%. Strange, because, in general, it was stronger beers that were going out of fashion.

The discontinuation of other PA's (2PA and FA) seemed to give standard PA, which had been a marginal product with dwindling sales, a boost. It shout up from below 1% to 12.5%.

IPA, already on the up before the war, continued its rise. Doubtless the increased popularity of bottled beer helped. IPA didn't appear on draught. In 1927 it became Whitbread's best-seller, overtaking X.

X continued its gradual decline, but was still one of Whitbread's most popular beers and rtheir best-selling draught by quite a margin.

Porter and Stout. Here's where the numbers are a bit confusing. It looks as if Porter's popularity collapsed in 1917, with its share dropping from 10% to less than 2%. But it's not quite as simple as that. During the war, Porter and LS (London Stout) were identical in all but name. Whitbread were marketing their Porter as Stout. Presumably as it commanded a higher price. (A lot of this went on in WW I, selling Porter as Stout.) Though it does seem to have permamently damaged the market for their Porter.

The two strongest Stouts, SS and SSS disappeared for ever. Whitbread never brewed a strong Stout again. Very sad.

You can guess what's coming. Prepare yourself for yet more of this stuff.

My new book store

Lexie said to me this morning: "Can we have presents this Christmas, dad? Pleeease." "That all depends on how many books we sell, son."

My new internet book store is up an running. The one-stop stop for the full range of Shut up about Barclay Perkins literature. Not the tacky merchandise. Maybe one day I'll learn how to combine the two.

It's no longer just hard copy books and pdf's. I've added ebook versions of the Amsterdam Pub Guide, Trips! (West) and Trips! (South). Perfect for when you're on the road.

Lexie's so looking forward to a present. I've told him of the presents I recieved as a child. An orange, half a dozen nuts a sock. And we were happy. What more could I child possibly want?

Whitbread beer production by type 1902 - 1914

Did I mention my plan? My plan of attack at the archives last week. Top of the list was looking at all the Whitbread logs between 1900 and 1940 I hadn't yet photographed.

The reason was simple. The handy little weekly, monthly and annual summary at the back of Whitbread logs. Which is broken down by beer type. A couple of snaps and the annual production of every beer is captured. I've been extracting the information most of this week.

Why is this of interest? The waxing and waning of styles as a fickle public keeps finding new favourites fascinates me. The first step to understanding the process is acquiring data. So I can see how and when changes happened. Working out the why will likely be more of a challenge.

Time for a table. Though there's so much information, you're going to have to make do with just a partial table. I'll kick off with the run up to WW I:



You're busy, I know. Let me do some of the interpretation for you. I've a little time on my hands.

Seeing Mild already in decline wasn't quite what I had expected. Both in absolute and percentage terms Whitbread's output of Mild fell between 1902 and 1914. It declined from almost 43% of production to a bit over 30%.

The quantities of Stock Ale being brewed were minimal. And dcelining to boot, droppping from 2% to 1.33% of output.

The big winner was IPA, a bottled beer. It's share of output just about trebled, rising from 4.6% to 12.7%. This accounted for the increase in relative imporatnce of Pale Ales asa a group. Production of PA and 2PA actually fell.

Most unexpected was the rise in Porter and Stout production, from 35% to over 42%. My guess would have been for it to have fallen. If the performance of the category was not expected, that of Porter was truly gob-smacking. Its share rose from 11% to 13.7%.

There's lots more of this come.

Grave displeasure

Just weeks after the end of WW II, Barclay Perkins were worried about pissing off the Licensing Magistrates. So much so that they sent all their landlords a warning letter. Why? Try reading the rest of this bloody post. Then you'll discover the answer.

Some of their landlords, for pathetic reasons like not having any beer, weren't opening all the hours they could. Barclay Perkins warned:

"we are asking all our Lessees and Tenants to keep their premises open for the full permitted hours. Already there is evidence that failure to do so will be likely to cause grave displeasure to the Licensing Magistrates."

Can't imagine the licensing authorities now would complain at a pub staying closed when it could be open. They'd probably prefer all to close forever.

Christmas gift idea

Books. You can never have too many of them. ("Yes you can, dad? Can I go upstairs and play my game now?") And they make such wonderful gifts.

The internet has been one of the greatest agents of social change in the history of mankind. Literally. I've made friends in countries I've never visited. Argued with strangers. Read books I'd need to sell my children to buy. Arranged potentially fatal meetings with geeks. Looked up bus times.

The possibilities are ineluctable (is that right Matt?). You can watch music videos. Play online games. Play games online. Read news. Publish books. Download films. Get help. Configure printers. Read foreign newspapers. Buy airline tickets. Book hotels. Check the cricket score.

One wonder of the internet surpasses all these. Buying presents without getting off your arse. I've done it. Bet you have, too. I'm offering a special treat. Books. Books you couldn't find in the shop, even if you could be bothered to go out.

Genuine branded Barclay Perkins tacky merchandise. There's that, too. For the fashion-unconscious. I'd wear the T-shirts myself, if I didn't fear attack.

I'm going to send a message with my presents this christmas. A message of hope. My brother's getting a copy of "Peace!". Just imagining the kids' faces when they find Warwick & Richardson mouse mats instead of computer games on christmas morning brings a tear to my eye.

Think of the pleasure you could bring to your loved ones. Buy my stuff. Then my kids might get proper presents.

My ten favourite beer books

I'm going to flatter Stan Hieronymus very sincerely, by nicking his idea.

Christmas, the season of hangovers, lists and a perceptible expansion of the waist. I would have come up with an original list. I would have. If I weren't as lazy as a cat on ketamine. Instead you've got my favourite books. Probably not actually my ten favourite books with a beer theme. More the ones I can see from my computer seat that I quite like.

I didn't have any particular selection rules. Other than that I own the book. Showing off by having none in English did cross my mind. But no-one likes a showoff.


"Technologie Brauer und Mälzer" By Kunze, published 1961. My first brewing manual, acquired for me by my mother-in-law. I won't pretend to have read it from cover to cover. But I have poured over the section on label requirements many an evening. In the unlikely event of me ever running a brewery, I'll use the DDR standards for label colours. Yellow for Helles, green for Pils, purple for Porter.

"Brewers' Almanack 1928" This was a birthday gift from Henry. My first introduction to class A statistics. I've been hooked ever since. That's right kids, don't try then even once. You could end up like me, endlessly wandering the archives in search of a new fix. One section summarises the WW I wartime restrictions on brewing. Where my obssession with beer in WW I began.

"Zeitschrift für das gesammte Brauwesen 1891" I had to pay extra postage for this doorstop of a book. Bound collection of magazines, I should say. Statistics. Lovely old statistics. Just my kind of stuff. Especially all the Austro-Hungarian stats. When I've finally finished my tome on English beer I must revisit it.

"Seventy Rolling Years" by Sydney Nevile, 1958. Sydney Nevile was an incredible character, working in the brewing industry for more than 70 years, starting in 1888. A period when British beer changed beyond all recognition. The rat in the fermenter story is a particular favourite.

"A Bottle of Guinness please" David Hughes, 2006. Seeing as how the bastards at Guinness won't let me look at their brewing records, this book will have to do. They obviouslty did let the author in. Luckily he didn't waste his time and the book is full of brewing details. Absolutely packed with information.

"A Century of British Brewers - plus" by Norman Barber, 2005. This list of all the breweries active in Britain from the 1890's on is one of the books I refer to most. Invlaubale for any serious beer historian.

"Brewing Science and Pratice" by H. Lloyd Hind, 1940. This is just before the science in brewing manuals stryed beyond the outer reaches of my comprehension. Surprisingly light and readable for what is meant as a brewing science text book. The chapter on ingredients has been a great help to me.

"The Brewer" by William Loftus, 1860. This was the first 19th century brewing manual I got hold of. It helped me take my first tentative steps towards understanding Porter.

"Biersmaken 87" by Peter Crombecq. This was a key book for me personally. When I began trying to taste beer seriously. I picked it up the first year I lived in Amsterdam, 1988. It's still an amazing book, classifying Belgian beer better than anyone else has managed, before or since.

"Fränkische Brauereikarte" by Stefan Mack, 1992. I owned this years before I ever went touring Franconia. It all looked so exotic. So 1930's. How often did I gaze longingly at the photos of country brewery taps? Way too long.


Looking back at that list, I see there's not much to cuddle up in bed with. Most are reference books not intended to be read from start to finish. I'm sure my choices reveal much about my character. Probably in a bad way.

Next: my favourite spoons.

The colour of malt

More random archive fun. It's about the colour of malt.

I found it in the Whitbread Ale log for 1918 - 1919. Why they should have stuff about brown and black malt in an Ale log is a bit of a puzzle. They didn't use either in their Ales, just their Porters and Stouts.


The numbers look like degrees Lovibond 1 inch cell to me. Which puts Whitbread's brown malt bang inbetween the two samples detailed by H. Lloyd Hind ("Brewing Science & Practice", 1943, pages 275-276), They were 102 and 212. Whitbread's black malt had the same colour as the darkest Hind's samples.

The last line shows just how far a little black malt goes, colour-wise. One quarter (approx. 224 pounds) is the same as 10 quarters of brown malt and a hundredweight (112 pounds) of caramel.

When Britain attempted to go metric, I thought all those weird weights and measures I'd had to learn as a kid would to of no further use. How wrong I was.

Beer tax in WW II

Why did the price of Bitter rise 20% (from 10d to 12d) between 1940 and 1942? For once, a question with a simple answer.

Take a look at the table below:


The tax on an average pint of beer rose just a shade under 2d between 1940 and 1942.

That's your answer: tax.

What WW II did to beer

Nothing complicated today. Just a couple of Barclay Perkins price lists.

The one on the left is from August 1942, the one on the right from August 1946. Spot the differences:
























In case you've already forgotten, these were the draught beer prices in November 1940:


In six years Barclay Perkins reduced the range of draught beers from 11 to just three. Being a drinker must have been so much fun.

I suppose you want more details of the actual beers, don't you? Oh, go on then:


I've still got my head buried in archive documents. It may be some time before I come up for air.

Am I making the best use of my time?

I bumped into a bloggle of beer bloggers on Friday. At the Gunmakers, Jeff's pub. Our differing days left me disconcerted.

The others had been on a pub crawl since 11 am. I'd been on the go since about the same time. Except I'd been frantically photographing files down the archive. I was only on my second pint.

It got me wondering. Which of us had spent the day more usefully? I'm not convinced it was me.

What I learned in London

I'm back from my exhausting London trip. Feeling a bit shell-shocked and in need of a holiday. The trip certainly wasn't one. A holiday, I mean.

As well as the beer hack's dinner, I manged to squeeze in three visits to the London Metropolitan Archives, one to the City of Westminster Archives and take a look at Fuller's records again. Not bad in just four days. The 2,400 photos I took will take a while to process. Several years, most likely. But there a couple of things I can tell you now.

I also attended the 10th anniversary tasting of the Fuller's Fine Ale Club. John Keeling gave an inspiring and entertaining talk on beer ageing. And rediscovering its secrets. Really top-class stuff. At no point was the furniture under any threat from my jaws.

Derek Prentice, former Truman's brewer now employed by Fuller's was there. I'd hoped he would be. I'd a stack of questions to ask him about Truman's beers. You know how much they confuse the hell out of me.

Beer codes. Deciphering them is one of my life's goals, however sad that might be. Derek gave me the solution to one: LK. It's short for London Keeper. Bitter to you and me. Now I think about it, it's pretty obvious. I really should have been able to work it out myself. Those two letters have pretty fixed meanings. L = London, K = Keeper or Keeping.

I had the meaning of more codes confirmed in the archives. In a fascinating document collecting all the circular letters sent out to Barclay Perkins publicans. Just look to your left.

KK = Burton
KKKK = Old Burton
XLK = Bitter

Intriguingly, it also indicates A as standing for "Ale".

Those three different types of draught Lager are a bit of a surprise. And the fact they come in metric-sized barrels. The Co2 is presuambly for serving them.

AK. Found out something about that, too. That Whitbread briefly brewed one between the wars.

Much, much, much, much more to follow. More details than anyone but a total obsessive like me could possibly want to know. The exact quantities of each different beer brewed by Whitbread 1900 to 1940. Details of every batch brewed by Barclay Perkins in WW I. That's just for starters.

Archive roulette

On every visit, I play a little archive roulette. Ordering documents whose contents I can only guess at. The catalogue descriptions aren't always that clear.

ACC/2305/1/521/1. Circular letters to publicans. Not unconventionally-shaped stationary, I guessed. The dates covered WW II. One of my areas of specialist interest. I gave it a punt.

I'm glad I did. It's a collection of the letters sent out by Barclay Perkins to the tenants of their pubs. Mostly telling them what they wouldn't be able to get. Or of price increases. This example contains both.

It's a letter dated 4th November 1940.

For the arsely challenged, I'll transcribe the best bits (obviously, best is a relative term, given the dusty as a bachelor's bollocks nature of the material).

Porter 8d
Best Stout 1/-
XX (Mild Ale Light) 9d
X (Mild Ale Dark) 8d
A Ale 7d
KK Burton 1/-
XLK Bitter 10d
KKKK Old Burton


Eleven cask beers. Not bad. But the war meant the chop for three. One's a bit of a surprise.

XX (Mild Ale Dark)
X (Mild Ale Light)
P.A. (Best Bitter)

I like that they dropped PA rather than Porter or Stout. Not that I imagine the Porter lasted much longer. Whitbread's last was brewed on the 9th September 1940. Pity two Milds disappeared.

Such death notices are poignant. You can imagine the conversation at the bar. "Pint of Best please, Dave" "Sorry, Chas. We won't be having Best Bitter any more." "Bloody Hitler."

The book also contains examples of the price lists meant to be hung up inside pubs. A little goldmine of social history. I'll be revealing much more. Unless I find the WW I gyles too beguiling.

Truman Running Stout grists 1831 - 1870

You'll never guess what this post is about. Unless you've read the title. But who bothers with little details like that?

Truman Running Stout. Great name, don't you think. Like Chester's Fighting Mild, but not so violent. Running Stout. Could be a description of me when trying to catch a tram.

Getting distracted again. Running Stout was Truman's entry-level, non-aged Stout. Above it were Double Stout and Imperial. We'll be getting on to them later. Remember the Porter grists from yesterday? There was a clear progression, with the brown malt content falling over time while the black malt content rose. The Running Stout paints a more confusing picture. The amount of brown malt used did decline, but the black malt content hovered at around 3%.

Sugar. Note how sugar appears in the 1861 version, but has disappeared again by 1870. Not sure if there's any particular reason for that. I'd need to compare with what other breweries did.

Here's the table:


Double Stout. Maybe I'll feature that tomorrow. Not as confusing as the Running Stout.

Truman Porter grists 1821 - 1871

It's been a while since I last published a table. Or is that just my imagination? Probably.

I've returned to my very first archive research project: Porter grists. It's a topic that never fails to fascinate. To fascinate me, I suppose I should say. I'm assembling another of my giant tables, stuffed with information from multiple breweries. That's what it will contain. At the moment I've only partially completed Truman.

1821 to 1871. A reasonable spread of years. As I've said before, Porter grists were very dynamic. They never stayed the same for long. The little table below shows the move away from brown malt and the introduction of sugar to the equation.

If you're wondering what "Runner" means, let me explain. Truman had "running" and "keeping" versions of its Porter and Stout. The running versiosn were sold young, the keeping versions were aged in vats.


There will most likely be many more such tables in the near future. That's a threat.

Spot the mistakes

Reading articles on beer history can be pretty depressing. Dead depressing. That's why I stay away from beer magazines as much as I can.

I just happened upon this article by Roger Protz about Russian Stout and just couldn't stop myself reading it.

Rather than throw myself in the canal or start chewing the furniture, I had an idea. Use the article as a competition. Brilliant!

It's very simple. See how many factual mistakes you can spot in the article. The one who comes up with the most, wins a book. Generous soul that I am, I'll let you choose which.



Thanks for the corrected link Stan.

Löwenbräu output 1872 - 1970

Time for a graph. I've not posted a graph for ages.

Below is a graph of the output of Munich's Löwenbräu brewery from 1872 to 1970.


You'll notice that it closely resembles the economic fortunes of Germany itself. Funny that. Fascinating to see that the 1920's were better than the Nazi years.




Source:
1872-1897 "Löwenbräu. Von den Anfängen des Münchner Brauwesen" by Wolfgang Behringer, page 173
1898-1911 "Löwenbräu. Von den Anfängen des Münchner Brauwesen" by Wolfgang Behringer, page 181
1920-1932 "Löwenbräu. Von den Anfängen des Münchner Brauwesen" by Wolfgang Behringer, page 238
1945-1948 "Löwenbräu. Von den Anfängen des Münchner Brauwesen" by Wolfgang Behringer, page 260
1949-1959 "Löwenbräu. Von den Anfängen des Münchner Brauwesen" by Wolfgang Behringer, page 264
1960-1970 "Löwenbräu. Von den Anfängen des Münchner Brauwesen" by Wolfgang Behringer, page 265

London, London, London

It's all here in London. (except meat pies, they can be a bugger to find) Archives, brewery visits, archives, beer dinner, archives. And a full English breakfast. The perfect place, you could say. If only they had decent beer.

Not finished yet. Archives, Gunmakers, sleep. Full English breakfast. Achives. Gunmakers, plane home.

London's not so bad, Unless you're one of the shit-munchers, sardelina in the train, pressac in the tube. Ever seen the film "The Crowd"? I've lived that opening sequence. Never again, Never again.

I did find out how Truman No.1 Barley Wine was brewed. Assembled, really in the age-old manner of ageing and blending. And hogsheads. You have to throw hogsheads in. Without hogsheads, there's no beer.

Hack's dinner = confusion In my mind)

Drawback

Drawback. That's what the tax refund was called that brewers received when they exported beer. Details of the drawback regulations are in the front of Truman's 1871 Porter brewing log.

Here they are:


I was so pleased to find these. Why? It's a long story. But I've got a few moments, so I'll tell you it anyway. (It's not a particularly interesting story, I'll warn you.)

I've been collecting beer gravities for many years. Until I discovered archives, my collection was rather sparse. Probably not more than 50 in total. That's why I was so pleased to find a reproduction of a Bass pricelist with the drawback given. I realised, because the amount of drawback was based on a beer's gravity, I could work out the OG's of all Bass's beers. Especially as I had the gravity of one of their beers, IPA. 1065.

I didn't, at the time, have the handy chart of drawback and gravity I've reproduced above. Using the IPA gravity of 1065 and the drawback amount, I was able to calculate what the gravity would have been.

Now, armed with the drawback table, I can check my calculations. And, you know what, they aren't bad. Except they're all 5º too high. Any guess why? Alright, I'll tell you. Because, according to the drawback, the IPA was actually 1060 and not 1065.

Here are the correct gravities:


I warned you it was a bit of a dull story. At least it had a happy ending.

Truman's malt and sugar usage 1860 - 1861

More fun details from Truman's brewing records. This time statistics on their malt usage.


As you can see, they used a pretty small range of ingredients: pale, white, brown and black malt. And sugar. It's typical of the period. Coloured malts were only used in Porter and Stout, all other beers were brewed from just pale malt and sugar (and water and hops and yeast, for any pedants out there).

Busy week

This will be a busy week. Not because I'm preparing for christmas of any crap like that. I'll be in London for four days.

Four days in London. I can't believe my luck. Two days at the London Metropolitan Archives, one at the Westminster City Archives, one in a private archive. I hope I'll have a little time to drink beer.

The main reason for the trip is the British Guild of Beer Writers annual dinner. A posh name for a gathering of seasoned pissheads. Hopefully I'll be sat close to Podge again. And Siobhan. Stimulating conversation and a drinking partner. What more could you ask for?

All that time I lived in London. All that time and never visited an archive. Those Saturdays when I couldn't think of anything to do and rode around the Circle Line reading. I was such a twat.

Making up for it now.

War - it's not too late

Did I mention my new book? I've got a new book. It's called "War!" I did mention it? I can't remember that. Must have been drunk. Or distracted.

Not to worry. If fear of repetition was a concern, I'd be counting my posts on the fingers of one foot.

My new book is called "War!" (I told you repetition wasn't a fear.) It's about war. No, wars. That first one and the other one. Very sad affairs. If only they'd held them Kurt Vonnegut style: backwards.

It would make a great christmas present, "War!" Unlike war, which would make a really crap present. Thank you Mr. Punkt for punctuation. I'd sound like a real Nazi without it.