Atlanta farewell

I'm up fairly early - before 8 AM. I've a few things to be getting on with. Like printing out my negative Covid test certificate. That has priority. I don't want to be refused boarding.

I go downstairs and ask at reception if they can print it for me. I'm directed to the Fed Ex office inside the hotel. There they have the possibility to print from a memory stick. For which I'm charged $1.62. Not that I'm complaining. That document could be priceless.

After carrying it carefully back upstairs, I have a think about breakfast. $20 an American breakfast costs. Do I really want one? I hum and haw for a while. Then say to myself, fuck it. My last day, after all. They're slightly more generous with the bacon, giving me three slices.

I notice that, as with the other places I had breakfast, a tip of 18% or 20% is added automatically. Then they leave space for another tip, the cheeky bastards. 20% is plenty, they can fuck off if they expect any more. If you're not careful the tip will come to more than the food.

I need to pack. But not before polishing off the remainder of my hotel whisky. I wouldn't want to let it go to waste. Or lug it back home.

Checking out at 11:00, I jump in a taxi. I'm going to be very early. My flight doesn't leave until 16:45. The checkin desks are deserted. I find myself a seat and watch some of that Beatles documentary. Part one mostly seems to consist of them bickering. In a very unproductive way.

At around 13:00, I notice some activity behind the desks and head on over. The staff are just setting up and I'm first in the queue. Lucky me. I show the agent my Covid test result. But a female colleague says that isn't needed any more. Instead, I'm handed a weird quarantine form to fill in. Did I just waste my time (and money) getting that Covid test?*

Once airside, I go straight to the lounge to fill myself with food and booze. What are lounges for, if not that? As I chomp and sip, I crack on with part two of that Beatles documentary. They seem to have stopped arguing and are actually starting to knock some songs into shape. About fucking time.

I time arriving at the gate perfectly again, just when my group is given the green light to board.

It's pretty empty again. I move to where I can have three seats to stretch out across. Which I do, after eating some of the not very appetising food and knocking back a few red wines. In the meantime, I work my way to the end of part three of the Beatles doc. Disappointingly short, is my opinion. Could have done with being an hour or two longer.

I manage to get 3 hours or so of fairly reasonable sleep. Then fire up the laptop and watch some comedy stuff until touchdown. It's not been too painful a flight. The Bourbon in the lounge helped.

Recognising my bag this time, I'm soon rolling into a taxi and onto the road home. I unlock my front door before 7:00. Everyone is still in bed.

 

* No, I didn't.

London Porter 1880 - 1899

By modern UK standards, Porter was still quite a strong beer, clocking in between 5% and 6% ABV. That would no longer be true after WW I. The low gravity of versions produced in the 1920s might well have speeded the style’s demise.

As you can see in the table, the gravities of the examples from different breweries were of a very similar gravity, averaging out to exactly 1057º. Wildly differing degrees of attenuation, however, left a wide spread in the alcohol content, from under 4% ABV to just shy of 6% ABV.

The hopping rate was mostly 7 and a bit pounds per quarter (336 lbs) of malt. That’s slightly higher than for London Mild Ales, but not by a huge amount. There were a couple of outliers with higher hopping rates. In particular a couple of the earlier Truman examples.
 

London Porter 1880 - 1899
Year	Brewer	Beer	OG	FG	ABV	App. Atten-uation	lbs hops/ qtr	hops lb/brl
1887	Fullers	Porter	1053.5	1019.7	4.47	63.21%	7.57	2.03
1893	Fullers	Porter	1056.8	1027.7	3.85	51.22%	7.17	2.00
1897	Fullers	Porter	1057.1	1016.3	5.39	71.36%	6.10	1.71
1880	Truman	Runner	1056.8	1018.0	5.13	68.29%	12.8	3.84
1890	Truman	Runner	1058.2				9.42	2.63
1895	Truman	Runner	1059.0				7.52	2.06
1899	Truman	Runner	1058.2				7.25	1.99
1880	Whitbread	P	1056.5	1011.9	5.90	78.92%	7.44	2.19
1885	Whitbread	P	1056.0	1012.7	5.72	77.23%	7.32	1.80
1890	Whitbread	P	1057.1	1012.0	5.96	78.97%	9.74	2.07
1895	Whitbread	P	1058.4	1016.0	5.62	72.62%	7.20	1.76
	Average		1057.0	1016.8	5.25	70.23%	8.14	2.19
Sources:
Fullers brewing records held at the brewery.
Truman brewing records held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document numbers B/THB/C/082, B/THB/C/092, B/THB/C/096 and B/THB/C/102.
Whitbread brewing records held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document numbers LMA/4453/D/09/075, LMA/4453/D/09/080, LMA/4453/D/09/084 and LMA/4453/D/09/090.

 

Let's Brew - 1901 Boddington XX

Next up the Mild chain is XX Ale. Though, in terms of strength, it’s about equal to a London X Ale.

Don’t expect anything exciting to report about the recipe. Although Boddington mostly brewed their Mild Ales single-gyle, they may as well have been, given the similarities between them. All consisted of just base malt and sugar. The latter being described simply as “Garton”.

Even assuming that the sugar is No.3 invert, the colour is significantly paler than that of London Mild Ales. Which by this point were clocking in at over 15 SRM. Not really so surprising, if you remember, as I do, Boddington’s Mild from the 1980s. It was dark compared to their Bitter, but only what I would describe as semi-dark, that is, about 10-12 SRM. It’s also confirmation that the darkening of Mild was an uneven process, not occurring everywhere simultaneously.

Once again there are lots of different hops, four English and one Californian, age unknown.

1901 Boddington XX
pale malt	10.75 lb	93.48%
No. 3 invert sugar	0.75 lb	6.52%
Cluster 120 mins	0.50 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles dry hops	0.50 oz
OG	1051.5
FG	1014
ABV	4.96
Apparent attenuation	72.82%
IBU	32
SRM	8
Mash at	154º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1318 London ale III (Boddingtons)

Back in Atlanta

My flight isn't until 13:14. No rush to get up. I start pottering around at about 8:00.

After going through my emails and writing up yesterday's events I pack up my stuff. I check out in the shop a little before 10:00 and ask them to call me a taxi. Ten of fifteen minutes it’ supposed to be.

I stand outside in the sun and read Private Eye to pass the time. Sweating in the sun in a very English, low-key way. When no taxi has appeared after 30 minutes, I go back inside to see what's happening.

"They've probably been delayed. It's Monday and a lot of people are going home."

OK then. Not totally reassuring. Just as well I’ve left a shitload of time. That’s the way I roll now I’m an oldie person. Paranoid and assuming everything will take me longer than expected.

When almost an hour has passed, I ask:

“Can you get me an Uber? I'll give you $60.”

He rings the taxi company again. Evidently, they picked up someone else. Fucking brilliant. He orders me an Uber and he asks for 40 dollars. A small price to pay for not missing my flight. It comes in less than 5 minutes.

I'm at the airport 1.45 hours before my flight is due. Plenty of time. Though checkin takes a bit longer than I expected.

Not having eaten, I pick up a sandwich and a bottle of coke for the flight. Then go and sit at a bar.

"A double Jack Daniels, no ice, please."

I've around 20 minutes to kill before boarding. May as well kill off some brain cells at the same time.

I restrict myself to just the two. $44, before tip. Fuck me, airport bars are expensive. I could have bought two bottles of cheap bourbon for that.

The gate isn't far. Once again, I time it perfectly, rolling up just as priority boarding is ending. I stroll right on board.

This time, I watch a weird Danish film called Another Round (at least in English). It's about a group of teachers who use alcohol as a performance-enhancing drug. Inevitably, it all goes horribly wrong. Though I don't get to see the ending. It's almost 2 hours long and I'm only three-quarters of the way through when the flight lands.

For some reason, I don't recognise my bag and let it whirl past a couple of dozen times before I pluck it from the carousel. How often have I travelled with this bag? What is wrong with me?

A taxi quickly drops me at my hotel. I recognise this place. I've stayed here before. It has all the scary internal balconies.

I’m on the fourteenth floor. But I’m staring up at most of the surrounding buildings. It’s a typical high-rise American downtown.

Luggage dumped, I head the couple of blocks to Sol's Liquor to pick up some whiskey for the kids. The challenge is to find something not stocked by Ton Overmars. I buy two bottles of some weird-looking cheap stuff. Pretty certain they won't have that.

Back in the hotel, I wander to the rear to take a look at the cafeteria. A voice behind me says:

"Excuse me sir. Are you a guest?"

It's security. Do I look that dodgy? It must be my crazy old man wild hair. I show him my key card. He seems satisfied, though somewhat begrudgingly.

I buy a bag of salt and vinegar crisps in the cafeteria. $2.99. The thieving bastards. It's not even a big bag.

This is annoying. Every time I touch a metal object like a door handle, I get a static electric shock. Just enough to be irritating.

My original plan was to go to Max's Lagers for beer and food. But I'm feeling lazy. Knacked, really. Despite doing fuck all today other than wait around. Instead, I stroll down to Hsu's, just three blocks away. For dumplings, fried rice and a Sweetwater 420. The food is OK, especially when I beef it up with soy sauce and hot sauce.

Back in my room, I watch Match of the Day 2 while I'm waiting for the Covid test result to roll in. Which it does, well before 23:00. I try to check in online. It doesn't work. I upload my vaccine certificate and give it another try. Still no joy. I'll just have to make sure I get to the airport really early.

Around 23:30, I feel peckish. I wander downstairs hoping to get some crisps from a vending machine. Without much hope of getting anything substantial. But the cafeteria is still open. I get a pastrami sub. Almost $10 it costs me.

The sandwich isn't bad. It's just the cost that sticks in my throat. I follow it down with some sleeping whisky. My last full day is done.


Sol's Liquor
186 Courtland St NE,
Atlanta, GA 30303.
http://solsliquor.com/


Hsu's Gourmet
192 Peachtree Center Ave NE,
Atlanta, GA 30303.
https://www.hsus.com/

Hops in Scotland 1880 - 1914

Huge quantities of foreign hops were imported into the UK in the three decades before WW I. The USA and Central Europe supplied the most, though hops from just about country that produced them were brought into the country. How they were used depended very much on their origin.

Top-quality hops like Saaz and Hallertau were highly valued and used in much the same way as the best Kent hops. That is in the form of late aroma additions and dry hops. While cheaper hops from the USA, whose flavour wasn’t greatly liked, were usually early bittering hop additions. The same was true of other less fashionable ones like Poperinge hops from Belgium.

Hops from the USA were given a variety of descriptions. Originally they were just called American, but later in the century, as the US hop growing centres began to move from the East to the West Coast, terms like Pacific, Oregon or California were used as well. Presumably to help differentiate between hops from the East and West.

On the eve of WW I, William Younger was using mostly Pacific hops, the rest coming from Kent. For example, in December 1913, of the total 11,970 lbs of hops they used, 9,110 lbs (slightly more than 75%) were Pacific.  Unusually, Drybrough were using all English hops in 1906, though by 1914 there were also some Californian and continental hops in their beers as well .

The above is an excerpt from the best book ever written on Scottish beer:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/ronald-pattinson/scotland-vol-2/paperback/product-23090497.html

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1901 Boddington X

Unlike their London colleagues, Boddington was still brewing a full set of X Ales as the 20th century turned.

We’re kicking off with the weakest. Which was, logically enough, X Ale. You’ll note that it’s a good bit weaker than London X Ales, which were over 1050º. Though some brewers, such as Adnams, had even lower Mild gravities. A good illustration of the regional variations in strength before WW I.

I’ve spent a good bit of time pondering the type of sugar. It’s described as “Garton”. The name of a sugar manufacturer, who sold a lot of No. 3. But it could be No. 2. Very unlikely that it was No. 1. Even with No. 3, it doesn’t come in that dark.

The excitement in the base malt is its source. Or at least the barley from which it was made. 11 quarters of English, 10 quarters of Ouchac and 5 quarters Californian. The latter, presumably, six-row.

Hops were mostly sourced from England, with just one out of five types from California. No harvest year is given for any of the hops, unfortunately.

1901 Boddington X
pale malt	9.00 lb	92.31%
No. 3 invert sugar	0.75 lb	7.69%
Cluster 120 mins	0.50 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	0.75 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	0.75 oz
Fuggles dry hops	0.25 oz
OG	1045
FG	1010
ABV	4.63
Apparent attenuation	77.78%
IBU	29
SRM	8
Mash at	154º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1318 London ale III (Boddingtons)

London Porter 1880 - 1914

Draught Porter remained one of the backbones of the London pub trade. Large quantities were consumed, though it was no longer the capital’s favourite style. That mantle had passed to X Ale.

Take, for example, Whitbread. In 1880, over a quarter of their production was Porter. By 1914, it was less than half that. The quantity Whitbread produced may have increased, but that was only because the total had more than trebled in those three decades or so.

X Ale’s share was also decreasing by the time WW I broke out owing to a big increase in the popularity of Whitbread’s Pale Ales. Combined, these had almost equalled the figure of X Ale by 1914.  It didn’t help either X Ale or Porter that they were exclusively draught beers. Between 1901 and 1914, bottled beer increased from 25% to 50% of Whitbread’s sales.

After WW I, Porter’s popularity slumped. Looking at Whitbread’s figures, it seems that many Porter drinkers switched to Stout. That was, in the interwar period, of a similar strength to pre-war Porter. In 1922, Whitbread made 147,573 barrels of standard-strength Stout (1055º) and just 16,562 barrels of Porter. 

Whitbread X Ale and Porter output 1880 - 1914
	1880		1900		1914
Beer	barrels	%	barrels	%	barrels	%
X Ale	137,558	52.55%	320,523	47.73%	274,247	30.45%
Porter	75,898	28.99%	77,183	11.49%	123,085	13.67%
Total	261,785		671,579		900,636
Sources:
Whitbread brewing records held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document numbers LMA/4453/D/09/075, LMA/4453/D/09/095, LMA/4453/D/09/108, LMA/4453/D/01/046, LMA/4453/D/01/065 and LMA/4453/D/01/079.

 

Florida rain

I'm awoken by torrential rain. Christ, it’s really pissing it down is heavy. It pounds the roof noisily. A bit annoying, as I hadn't planned getting up this early.

I potter around my room for a while. Matt is picking me up around noon. I really hope the rain has finished by then. The rain is so heavy, even the short walk to Matt's truck would drench me.

Luckily, the rain is done when Matt turns up. It's noticeably much cooler than yesterday. I’m not complaining. I was roasting my nuts yesterday.

Matt is taking me around some breweries. We start at Pompano Beach Brewing. Basically, because it's one of the few that's open this early.

It's a bit of a shed inside. Empty, other than a clutch of people at the bar. What to drink? An IPA, maybe. I plump for Curse of the Bird, An American IPA. By that, I guess they mean West Coast IPA. That's certainly what it tastes like. A straightforward, citrussy-bitter IPA.

Matt is a really nice bloke and we chat away merrily. Quite a bit about hops. I realise just how out of touch I am with recent developments.

I notice that they have another IPA, Purgatory. So, I have one of those next. It's pretty similar to the other one.

The plan is to go around a few breweries in Fort Lauderdale. So that's where we head next. To Tarpon River Brewing.

It's pretty weird looking inside. It's basically an industrial shed, with the brewing kit running down one side. On the other, there's a single-storey building inside the shed. Matt tells me this was some requirement to be able to serve beer. Though there are also seats outside it, which is where we are. It's all very strange. There's a nice breeze blowing through. Which is handy, as it's warming up. 

I ask the waitress if they have a Stout. She doesn't understand what I mean. I end up getting a coffee Brown Ale.

We eat and I get an IPA. I go for a burger. With extra bacon. Bacon improves every meal. As it does in this case.

There was a bit too much coffee in the Brown Ale for my taste.

Soon, we're off again. This time to Invasive Species, located in a bright yellow, single-storey building. Todd, who was at my talk yesterday, is waiting for us at the bar. We get ourselves a table. What to drink? I opt for Migration, cold IPA. Someone told me about them the other day. It's an IPA fermented with a Lager yeast. It just tastes like any other IPA to me.

Slightly weird decor, what with the stuffed animals and skulls. Are they making a point? That's your fate if you're an invasive species.

We can't hang around too long. I've at appointment for a Covid test. Without it, I won't be able to get on the plane back to Amsterdam. Oh, the joys of travel currently!

The test takes about 5 seconds. I'll have the result by 11 PM tomorrow. $149 it cost. Fucking hell. But, as it means the difference between getting on the plane home and not, it’s a price I have to pay.

We end our crawl at 3 Sons Brewing. Another barn-like industrial space. They're showing the Superbowl. I order an Imperial Stout with coconut and vanilla. It's quite tasty, if a little sweet. That doesn't stop me ordering a second and a third.

We eat tacos as the Superbowl rumbles on. Dead good tacos, mind. Best I’ve had in a while. Seafoody, spicy, citrussy. I wish I’d opted for three rather than just two.

It's getting quite late and I'm feeling a bit knacked. We leave when the game ends.

Matt has been a brilliant host. Showing me around the area and it's breweries. It's been a whole lot of fun. We say our goodbyes when he drops me at my hotel. hopefully I'll be back again sometime in the future.

A soothing draught of whisky brings the day to a close.



Pompano Beach Brewing Company
3200 NW 23rd Ave Suite 500,
Pompano Beach, FL 33069.
https://pompanobeachbrewing.com


Tarpon River Brewing
280 SW 6th St,
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33301.
https://tarponriverbrewing.com


Invasive Species Brewing
726 NE 2nd Ave,
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33304.
https://invasivespeciesbrewing.com/


3 Sons Brewing Co
236 N Federal Hwy #104,
Dania Beach, FL 33004.
https://www.3sonsbrewingco.com

Sugar and adjuncts in Scotland 1880 - 1914

Sugar had been allowed since 1847 but, after an initial period of experimentation with this new ingredient, most breweries dropped it again and returned to brewing all-malt. After 1880, the vast majority of breweries in England embraced sugar and it usually made up 10-15% of the grist, depending on the style of beer being brewed.

The Scots were more reluctant to adopt sugar. William Younger, for example, only used it in around half of their beers in the 1880’s . In the same period, some of Thomas Usher’s Mild Ales contained sugar, but none of their Pale Ales or Stock Ales . It’s odd that they didn’t use it in Pale Ales as in England even the classiest Pale Ales often had grists with 20% sugar. The reason was simple: sugar helped keep the body and colour light.

Adjuncts
Brewers both sided of the border immediately began to experiment with unmalted grains. In England, flaked rice was initially popular, but soon replaced by cheaper flaked maize. In Scotland maize was the most popular adjunct, but, in contrast to English practice it was mostly used in the form of grits.

While flaked maize can just be thrown into the mash tun with the malt, grits require an extra step to gelatinise them. To brew with grits breweries needed to install an extra piece of equipment, a cereal cooker, in which this gelatinisation was performed.

Some breweries, Drybrough for example, used rice either instead of or in addition to, maize . This was always in form of flakes which could be added directly to the mash tun. The practice gradually petered out, presumably on cost grounds.

The above is an excerpt from the best book ever written on Scottish beer:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/ronald-pattinson/scotland-vol-2/paperback/product-23090497.html

Let's Brew - 1913 Boddington CC

Before you ask, I’ve no idea what CC stands for. Just that it was Boddington’s Strong Ale. And that it was introduced sometime between 1903 and 1913. It managed to survive two World Wars, which is quite an achievement for a strong beer.

At 1062º, it’s not really that strong for a pre-WW I beer. The London equivalent, KK, had an OG in the mid-1070ºs. Then again, beers were usually stronger in London than elsewhere.

Boddington weren’t big on coloured malts, only using any in their Stout. They didn’t even ever throw in a bit of crystal. As in most of their beers, there were two types of base malt, English and foreign. And some flaked maize, by this point a firm favourite with UK brewers.

I’m by no means certain that the sugar was No. 3 invert. That’s just my best guess. Along with the caramel, it’s responsible for all of the colour.

Boddington certainly liked to use a lot of different hops. Once again, there are five English types from the 1909, 1909, 1911, 1911 and 1912 harvests, plus Californian from 1911. In addition, there are two types of dry hops: English and Californian, both from the 1911 season. 

1913 Boddington CC
pale malt	11.50 lb	86.34%
flaked maize	0.75 lb	5.63%
caramel 5000 SRM	0.07 lb	0.53%
No. 3 invert sugar	1.00 lb	7.51%
Cluster 165 mins	0.75 oz
Fuggles 90 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	0.50 oz
Goldings 30 mins	0.50 oz
Cluster dry hops	0.25 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.25 oz
OG	1062
FG	1020
ABV	5.56
Apparent attenuation	67.74%
IBU	32
SRM	25
Mash at	158º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	165 minutes
pitching temp	61.5º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1318 London ale III (Boddingtons)

Florida sun

I don't get up that early. There's no rush. Matt isn't picking me up until 11:30.

Once I've showered and shaved, I head over to the beach. It's hot. Fucking hot. Too hot for me. I don't linger all that long. I’m really not built for the heat. In several ways. I’m English, old and a fat bastard. Triple whammy.

Matt is bang on time again. It's not far to Odd Breed, his brewery. Which is in the original Pompano Beach downtown. His barman, Scott, is already starting to open up. It’s not huge. There's a modestly-sized bar area at the front. One wall is totally lined with oak barrels.

Which is what you would expect, as all Matt's beers are mixed fermentation and barrel-aged. He has more patience than me. Most of his beers take two or three years to be ready. That's quite a commitment.

Just after opening time, the first customer rolls up. As Matt introduces me, he says "We've met before, in Portland." This happens to me more often than you might expect. As is proved when the second customer tells me that we met in Chile. Is the beer world so small, or do I get around a lot? A bit of both, I think.

Scott serves me a Saison. It's beautifully balanced, with citrus, Brettanomyces and fruity hops. Very drinkable.

I slowly work my way through the draught beers as the room starts to fill up. I need to warm up. And hydrate up. Can’t talk well with a dry throat. I'm grateful for the airco, given the heat outside.

Just after 13:00 I move behind the bar and start my talk. Brettanomyces in British Brewing is the topic. Very appropriate, given the type of beers Matt brews. It goes pretty well. I've given it multiple times and am really confident with the material. I can easily field the questions at the end. Mostly.

 

I've a few books still. I sell them all straight away and have to disappoint a few potential customers. It's always a nightmare trying to work out how many books to bring with me. I pretty much never get it right. All gone in minutes or a stack left over.

I sit at the bar and chat with people. Which is always good fun. I enjoy meeting people. Especially beer people. Always plenty to chat about.

The crowd gradually thins out and I get to chat more with Matt. The more he tells me about his process, the more impressed I am. It's not just about fermenting the wort then throwing it into a barrel. Many of his beers he starts in French oak puncheons then transfers into former spirit barrels. Something which adds levels of flavour. As does the bottle conditioning he insists on.

Matt pulls out various bottles and shares them around. The bloke from Chile, German, has some bottles and cans from his brewery. They get shared around, too. Lots of dead interesting stuff. This is a great way to spend Saturday afternoon.

Matt and I get tacos from the food truck next door. Very good they are, too. I do like me a taco. They're just fiery enough for my taste.

As evening draws in, I get an Old Rasputin. Unlike tap rooms in many states, they're allowed to sell beer from other breweries here in Florida. There's only so much sour beer I can drink in a day before my stomach starts to object.

Around 20:00 Matt drives us over to another brewery in Pompano Beach, Dangerous Minds. It's not the most romantic location, being in a strip mall. It's owned by a Brit and a German. They mostly concentrate on classic styles, which is perfect for me.

I get an Imperial Stout. It's pretty good. Being a little peckish, we order food. Matt gets a pizza. How could I get anything but the Scotch egg? I haven't had one for ages. It comes with HP sauce. Perfect.

We're sitting outside. The temperature is perfect. How brilliant is this, being able to drink al fresco in shorts in February?

Matt tells me all about the Florida brewing industry. Which is quite insular in many ways. I guess it is a long way from South Florida to any other state.

We linger until closing time. It's after midnight when I get to my hotel room. Whisky whistles me to sleep.

Odd Breed Wild Ales
50 NE 1st St,
Pompano Beach, FL 33060.
https://www.oddbreed.com/


Dangerous Minds Brewing Co
1901 N Federal Hwy Suite E115,
Pompano Beach, FL 33062.
https://dangerousmindsbrewing.com/

Malt in Scotland 1880 - 1914

The inability of the UK to grow enough malting barley to satisfy the demands of the brewing industry meant that large quantities of grain had to be imported. Barley was imported from all over the world and then malted in the UK.

Scottish brewers had long been bringing in grain from England to malt – pretty much every brewery of any size had its own maltings – but barley continued to be grown in Scotland. Though judging by some brewing records, in woefully inadequate quantities to feed the industry.

A glance at Thomas Usher’s brewing records from 1912 shows how diverse the origin of their barley was. There’s malt described as Hungarian, Danish, Calcutta, Smyrna (Turkey), Ouchak (also Turkey), Polish, Karachi, Danubian, Roumanian, Tunis, Californian, Oregon, Bulgarian, Spanish, Canadian and finally, three pages in, the first mention of Scotch . (Remember that this is the source of the barley, not where the malt was made. The malting would have been performed mostly in Scotland, perhaps some in England.) Malt from locally-grown barley was always less than 50% of the grist.

The situation was the same at other Scottish brewers, such as Drybrough and William Younger. Each brew had at least three different types of pale malt and sometimes as many as six . Using multiple kinds of pale malt in a beer was standard practice across the UK. It helped to iron out differences between individual batches of malt. But there was one constant factor: malt from Scottish barley was a minority of the grist.

Scottish brewers used very little coloured malt at this time. Stouts usually contained black malt and sometimes brown and crystal malt as well. In the 1890’s William Younger included amber malt in their Stout grists and just before WW I chocolate malt.

Most other styles had nothing but pale malt in the grist. Though Thomas Usher did use some crystal malt in their Shilling Ales. In general, very little crystal appears in grists.

The above is an excerpt from the best book ever written on Scottish beer:

http://www.lulu.com/shop/ronald-pattinson/scotland-vol-2/paperback/product-23090497.html

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1913 Boddington IP

IP – which presumably stood for India Pale – was a very long-lived beer. Or rather, is, as it was the brewhouse name for Boddington Bitter right up until the brewery’s closure. And, wherever it’s currently brewed, the beer still exists.

By the time Strangeways closed, IP made up the vast majority of the beer it produced, with just a tiny quantity of Mild trickling out. Back before WW I, it accounted for only about 5% of production. The vast majority of production being either Mild or one of the weaker Pale Ales.

For a top of the range Pale Ale, it’s on the weaker side. Those from large London brewers were around 1060º. Though it didn’t fare too badly during WW I, being 1049º in 1923.

There’s not much to the grist. Two types of pale malt – English and foreign – and sugar. Exactly which type of sugar isn’t specified. I’ve guessed at No. 2 invert. But it could just as easily have been No. 1 or something else entirely. It’s impossible to know for certain.

Much more complexity was evident in the hops, with no fewer than five English types from the 1909, 1909, 1911, 1911 and 1912 harvests, along with Californian from 1911. Not exactly the freshest.

1913 Boddington IP
pale malt	10.50 lb	91.30%
No. 2 invert sugar	1.00 lb	8.70%
Cluster 150 mins	0.50 oz
Fuggles 150 mins	0.25 oz
Fuggles 90 mins	0.75 oz
Goldings 30 mins	0.75 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.67 oz
OG	1052
FG	1015
ABV	4.89
Apparent attenuation	71.15%
IBU	32
SRM	7
Mash at	154º F
Sparge at	168º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	62º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1318 London ale III (Boddingtons)

 

Florida here I come

I rise around 7:30 and head straight to the bistro. For exactly the same breakfast as yesterday. That should keep me going for a while.

I've still three bottles of Mike Karnowski's beer. One of them a corked and caged 75 cl. I'm a bit wary of taking that type of bottle in my checked in bag. Best drink it up. It's an Arctic Ale, the perfect breakfast beer. I sip on it while catching up with my emails.

I meet Stan in the lobby at 9:15. Soon we're on the motorway headed for Atlanta airport. It gives us another chance to chat. Stan always has interesting stuff to tell me. This time it's all about hop chemistry. How little I understand about hops. Quite humbling, really. How little I know about modern advances, too. Makes me glad that I stick to history, where nothing changes.

Stan needs to go to a different terminal for his flight to Denver. We say our goodbyes and I trundle along to the Delta check in. It's all very painless. There aren't even queues at security. It's odd that, other than having to wear a mask, there are no Covid restrictions. No proof of vaccination or negative Covid test needed to board.

I've still more than an hour before my flight departs. Time for a calming drink. A Gordon Biersch bar will do. I park my flabby old arse at the bar.

"A double Jack Daniels, no ice, please."

“Can I see some ID?”

Bloody hell. I look old enough to be Edward the Confessor’s dad. I guess it’s just the rules. Still feels weird.

A chance to catch my breath. It's pretty busy here. So unlike Schiphol. Very much like usual in a large airport.

"Would you like another drink, sir?" the barman asks.

Not at these fucking prices. I've already looked at the bill for the first $27.50. I'm not a millionaire.

I get to the gate just a priority boarding is about to end and waltz right through.

The onboard entertainment is free. So I pull out my headphones and look for something to watch. There seem to be loads of old films. I eventually settle on Reds. How old is this? Must be from sometime in the 1970s. Jack Nicholson looks so young. It's a bit slow. And long. By the time we land I'm not even halfway through. Maybe I'll finish it on the return flight to Atlanta.

I’m a lucky boy. My bag flops onto the carousel just as I arrive there.

My taxi driver is on a video call to his brother. What the fuck? I'd prefer a little more attention to the road.

I'm not in the fanciest accommodation. It's a cheapish motel. Close to the beach, mind.

Once in my room, I email Matt Manthe. I'll be giving a talk at his brewery tomorrow. Does he fancy a beer this evening? He does, and arranges to pick me up at 17:30.

I power up the TV to pass a little time. It starts on Fox News. I guess that tells me something about the people who stay here.

Matt arrives in his truck on the dot. Sam, who helps at the brewery and is looking to start his own place, is with him.

Our first port of call is Briny Irish Pub. It's pretty crowded, but we find a table. Pretty noisy, too, due to the live music. It is Friday night, I suppose. I order an IPA1A from 26 degrees Brewing. It's not bad, in an old-school West Coast sort of way.

Matt tells me all about his brewery and his mixed fermentation culture. Which has multiple stains of Brettanomyces and pediococcus, as well as boring old Saccharomyces. He uses it for all of his beers. He's a very patient man. All of his beers have years in oak before he considers them ready for sale.

What to eat? What about fish and chips. I haven't had that for ages. Well, since yesterday. Very nice it is, too. Especially as there's malt vinegar to drown it in.

We move on to 26º Brewing, which isn't far. It's a cavern of a place and pretty busy. We all get their Scotch Ale, which Matt has been telling me about. A little peaty, but nothing too stupid.

There's a burlesque show, which is pretty weird. Evidently, it's a thing in breweries in South Florida. Very strange.

We only stay for the one. Then go over the road to Checkers, a German restaurant. It’s got a black and white half-timbered thing going on. Which seems rather out of place in Florida. We sit at the bar.

I get myself a half litre of Salvator. Matt has a boot-shaped litre glass of something a little weaker. It's so he can join the boot club. Once he's drunk a certain number of these things he'll get his own stein.

They kick us out at 22:00 and Matt drives me back to my fancy hotel.

Where a whisky wheels me down the hill to sleepy town.




Briny Irish Pub
3440 E Atlantic Blvd,
Pompano Beach, FL 33062.
https://thebrinyirishpub.com/


26° Brewing Co.
2600 E Atlantic Blvd,
Pompano Beach, FL 33062.
http://www.26brewing.com/



Checkers Old Munchen
2209 E Atlantic Blvd,
Pompano Beach, FL 33062.
https://stammtischcheckersoldmunchen.com/