Let's Brew Wednesday - 1914 Hancock Stout

Has Stout followed the trend of the other Hancock beers and had its gravity reduced? Of course, it had. None of their beers were immune. Though it’s only 3.5º lower.

The gravity is not where the big changes are. They are in the recipe. The 1897 version was a simple beer, consisting of just pale, crystal and black malt. Three new ingredients have been added, two of them types of sugar: Durax and oatine. The other was flaked oats.

What does this tell us? Well, obviously, they were selling at least some as Oatmeal Stout. It’s interesting that the style had already made it to the Southwest. The first oat Stout, from Maclay of Alloa, had been brewed less than 20 years earlier.

The sugar content is pretty high, just shy of 30%. Which makes it all the more annoying that neither of them exists any more. I’ve substituted No. 3 for both, but who knows how close that might be. You may want to add extra flaked maize for the oatine.

There were two types of hops, one from Oregon and the other English. No harvest date is given for either.

1914 Hancock Stout
pale malt	5.75 lb	47.92%
crystal malt 60 L	1.50 lb	12.50%
black malt	0.50 lb	4.17%
flaked oats	0.75 lb	6.25%
No. 3 invert sugar	3.50 lb	29.17%
Cluster 120 mins	0.50 oz
Goldings 120 mins	1.00 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.00 oz
OG	1062
FG	1015
ABV	6.22
Apparent attenuation	75.81%
IBU	34
SRM	32
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	58º F
Yeast	White Labs WLP099 Super High Gravity

LAX to SAN

Our flight is just before two. Not knowing what sort of chaos might await at the airport, nor what traffic will be like, we check out at 10:30.

The traffic, it turns out, isn't that bad. Then again, it is Sunday morning.

No sign of chaos at departures, either. Sky Priority has us checked in within a few minutes. Security takes just a few more and we're airside with more than 2 hours until our flight.

“It’s disappointingly unchaotic.”

“Don’t you mean reassuringly unchaotic, Dad?”

“I know what I mean.”

With all the airport crap done, it’s time for more important matters.

"Let's find a pub." I suggest. As always. The kids don't argue. I’m so proud of them.

And sure enough, there's one, Barney's Beanery. Conveniently on the way to our gate. Unfortunately, there's a bit of a queue. It'll be 20 to 25 minutes to get a table. Other options being few on the ground, we wait.

Eventually, we get in. And promptly order some beer. Well, Andrew and I do.

“What do you want to drink, kids?”

“Pilsner.”

“Cider. And a Diet Cola.”

“And an IPA for me.”

“You’re so predictable, Dad.”

“Thanks, Lexxie.”

“That wasn’t meant as a compliment.”

“But that’s how I took it. Victory to me.”

“You’re weird.”

A bit of food seems a good idea. We haven’t eaten yet. I get a taco. It's not bad, but pretty pricey. It is an airport, after all. Lexxie goes for a burger. Andrew has a few of his chips. The greedy bastard.

We time getting to the gate perfectly, arriving just in time for priority boarding.

It’s a short fight. Just 20-odd minutes in the air. We leave the gate and start to taxi. Down the airport one way. Then back up the other. Despite gong to the toilet right before boarding, I'm starting to feel the need for a piss. After 20 minutes, we still haven't taken off. It's 25 minutes after leaving the gate when we finally get airborne.

I wait anxiously for the fasten seat belt sign to be switched off as we climb. When we seem to have levelled off, I say "Fuck it." to myself and make my way to the bog.

Alexei gives me a what the fuck are you doing look. I’d rather ignore the sign than piss myself. And I’m sure the airline would, too. I couldn't have waited much longer.

Just after I get back to my seat, Lexxie heads for the bog. The fasten seat belt sign is still on. I try to give him a look. He ignores my gaze. The bastard. These are the few moments of victory that make parenting worthwhile.

A few minutes later, we're back on the ground. For another long taxi.

Our bags are on the carousel by the time we get there. Cool. We wander outside and grab a Joe.

It's not far to our hotel. But the taxi costs us over $30. Which is taking the piss.

“You’re taking the piss.” I don’t say. Because I’m English. “Here’s a tip.” Sometimes I wish I could shut up the voices in my head. They are my only true friends, though.

The hotel is much better than in LA. Which is saying fuckity fuck all. It’s hard to imagine a crapper one. Four walls, roof, windows, bed. That’s good enough to better the LA hotel. Oh, and no weird smells.

We've arranged for Sheldon Kaplan to pick us up to go around a couple of breweries. We start off at Deft, which specialises in European styles with a small twist. I get Dawn of the Deft, which is billed as an English Porter. It’s pleasantly roasty.

It's good to see Sheldon again. It's been a while. He's always interesting to talk to.

After a couple of beers, we go to Lost Cause, the meadery next door. This is a new experience for the kids. Neither has tried mead before.

“It’s just fermented honey, really.” I tell them. ”Bee piss, essentially.”

“That makes it sound so much better.” Alexei says.

We get a couple of sampler fights. They're certainly a varied bunch. Not sure I'd want to drink a pint of many of them, though.

The toilets have a witty collection of Soviet anti-alcohol posters. Ones I’ve never seen before.

Gravity Heights, which is a bit out of town, is our next spot. It’s a pretty massive place. Very modern and pretty impressive. I worry about getting lost when I go to the bogs.

Of course, we drink some beer. As usual, I go for an IPA. It's what I mostly drink in the USA. Daybreak, to be precise, which is billed as a West Coast IPA. None of that sludge rubbish. Bitter and very drinkable.

For food, I go for duck liver tostini. It's very good.

Sheldon has some great stories to tell about watching football games during the apartheid period. Both fascinating and scary.

On the way back, Sheldon takes us to a CVS to stock up on supplies. My new CVS loyalty card saves us $15.50, including $7 off a bottle of Jack Daniels. Result.

Jack is my companion in the trip to slumberland.


Barney's Beanery.
LAX Terminal 2 - Departures
https://www.laxshopdine.com/directory/barneys-beanery-terminal-2-t2/


Deft Brewing
5328 Banks St A,
San Diego,
CA 92110.
https://www.deftbrewing.com/


Lost Cause Meadery
5328 Banks St Suite B,
San Diego,
CA 92110.
https://www.lostcausemead.com/


Gravity Heights
9920 Pacific Heights Blvd,
San Diego,
CA 92121.
https://www.gravityheights.com/

Battleship

I drag the kids out of bed at 9:00. Well, Lexxie, at least. Andrew remains semi-comatose for a while.

We have a plan for today. Visit USS Iowa. One of only two preserved dreadnaughts. We went around the only preserved pre-dreadnaught, the Mikasa, when we were in Japan three years ago.

It's out in Long Beach. Which is quite a way from downtown, where we're staying.

There are some strange smells in the hotel. Ones I'm not inclined to investigate. The lift smells a bit like bread. At least that's what I think.

A fellow lift traveller says: "It smells like pizza. Cheap pizza."

Not so sure it’s that nice, myself. Let’s not start on the smells in the lobby. No wonder the staff are wearing masks.

We Uber it out to Long Beach. Which takes a while. Though I suppose part of the LA experience is being stuck in traffic. And on a seemingly endless motorway, in a sea of cars.

USS Iowa is impressive. Especially the enormous main guns. We tag along with a group of scouts taking a guided tour.

“It’s a shame they didn’t preserve the Yamato. Those guns would have been even more impressive.”

“It was sunk, Dad.”

“I know. They could have salvaged it.”

“Don’t be stupid. That’s totally impractical.”

“The Nagato, then. They just blew that up in some stupid nuclear test. One of my favourite battleships.”

“Shut up. You’re weird.”

The lads have to be really careful not to bang their heads. The ceilings are very low. Too low for me, let alone the kids. We mostly go through the crew quarters and messes. There's even a bakery. Like a self-contained town, really.

I have to bite my tongue a couple of times. Like when D Day planning is described as a totally American affair.

Andrew is quite hot by the time we're done. It's warming up, though there is a cooling sea breeze. We still have a plan. Walk to San Pedro Brewing and have some beer and food.

It's only 4 or 5 blocks, luckily.  At least that’s what Lexxie says. I’m not so sure myself. How does he measure blocks? I suspect not the same way I do.

We don’t get too sweaty. Though I wouldn’t fancy walking much further. Especially as the kids already have a half-block lead. If they hadn’t needed to stop for lights at crossings, their lead would be a couple of blocks.

Inside it's quite pub-like, with the brewery tucked away in a corner. We get a seat by the window. Andrew, obviously, looks half-melted. 

The beer list is quite long, as they also sell beer from other breweries. It's a Battleship IPA for me - what else? Andrew has some Lagery thing, while Lexxie is still on his cider kick.

We've learnt from previous lunches not to go over the top. I've ended up having to box half my food pretty much every time. We take a different tack today and get two starters to share: buffalo wings and gyozas (or potstickers as they call them on the menu). Andrew, as usual, isn't hungry.

The beer is fine. Though, unfortunately, I can't see the baseball game from where I'm sitting.

“I can’t see the baseball.”

“You could try talking to us.”

“I hardly ever get to watch baseball. You two are always hanging around. I can talk to you anytime.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Just being honest.”

We hang around for a few beers. We're in no rush. It's Venice Beach next. Somewhere Lexxie is keen on visiting. He reckons early evening is the best time to show up there. So, that’s what we do. With a plan, as always.

We rock up around 18:00. Our planned destination is packed. So, we head a little down the beach to another bar, Venice Ale House. The music is booming, but there's some room for us to squeeze inside. 

It's very lively. Possibly too lively for me. With people dancing and the like. Definitely too lively for me. Damn these young people. After one beer we move further down the beach.

We don’t have to go far. Barely the length of two cricket wickets. To Candle Café. And are lucky enough to find seats on the first floor looking out over the beach. A band is playing just outside.

"That's brave, taking on a Hendrix song" As the guitarist strikes up the Voodoo Chile riff.

“Why’s that?”

“Because Hendrix was a fucking genius.”

To be fair, the guitarist makes a pretty good job of it. The drummer, not so much. He keeps missing beats. Not so much missing, as completely ignoring.

“You’re so negative, Dad.”

“Me? I’m positivity itself.”

“Right.”

“Realistic, but positive. When warranted,”

“You’re as negative as fuck, Dad. Just admit it.”

Fuck off. I am positive. Did I say that aloud? I think not, as Lexxie has stopped shouting at me. Maybe he’s just tired.

As the band pack up, the sun begins to set over the hills. It's all rather beautiful. As are most of the people walking, skateboarding or roller-skating along the beach.

"It's just like in films." Lexxie says. And he's right It really does look like it does in films. Not a disappointment at all. Now there’s a surprise. I’m a bit disappointed at my lack of disappointed.

“I didn’t come here to be appointed.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Dad?”

“I was supposed to be disappointed with Venice Beach. I feel cheated.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

We have a couple of beers and a couple of tacos. It's all dead relaxing. Exactly what you’d expect from a California beach.

As we head towards our Uber pickup point, we come across a shirtless, fat, middle-aged man ranting incoherently. No-one is paying him any attention. A bit like the kids with me.

After being surrounded by beautiful people for a while, it’s reassuring to see someone less together than me both mentally and physically.

It's still as depressing and filthy when we get back downtown. How do they get those stains on the pavement? 

“Do you think they ever clean the pavements?”

“Don’t be stupid, Dad. Of course not. That’s years of filth.”

“I’d rather not think about that.”

“Or what it was that made the stains.”

“I’m feeling sick just at the thought.”

Despite the grime, we’re still a bit peckish. Well, me and Lexxie are. What to eat?

“We could get some sarnies at CVS.” I suggest.

“That’s boring. What about that Japanese place?”

“That’ll do.”

So, we nip down to Suehiro Mini again for some take out Japanese. No ramen, this time. That’s a bit too messy for hotel room eating. Gyozas, of course. Who would order Japanese food without gyozas?

Jim Beam is my partner in slumber.



San Pedro Brewing Company
331 W 6th St,
San Pedro,
CA 90731.


Venice Ale House
2 Rose Ave,
Venice,
CA 90291.
https://www.venicealehouse.com


Candle Cafe & Grill
325 Ocean Front Walk,
Venice,
CA 90291.
https://candlecafevenicebeach.com

Suehiro Mini
642 N Broadway #5,
Los Angeles,
CA 90012.
https://www.suehirocafe.com

Costa Mesa

We're being picked up by Keven Keane at 11:30. So we have time to potter around a little.

When we go downstairs at the appointed time, he's waiting outside. We've never met, but I am aware of his former blog. I can see the look of puzzlement and disappointment as he takes in the tatty entrance to the hotel.

“My wife said I was crazy letting a total stranger take me off in his car. I hope you won’t lock me in your torture basement.”

“No need to worry about that with your two bodyguards along.”

Soon we’re zooming along one of LA’s many motorways. They seem endless. As do the often scary cars. Weaving around lanes in a crazily dangerous fashion. My tactic is to ignore the traffic and concentrate on the scenery. Otherwise, it’s too scary.

Our first stop is Yorkshire Square. Which is, unsurprisingly, owned by a Yorkshireman. On the way the kids keep spotting things that look familiar. From Grand Theft Auto. The game seems to have formed their image of the city.

I see a plume of black smoke ahead. When we reach it, there's a car blazing away at the side of the road, surrounded by 4 or 5 fire engines.

"That's an electric car. That's why there are so many fire engines." Lexie says.

"That's reassuring."

It's almost impossible to put the battery out when it catches fire."

"Even more reassuring."

"You're being sarcastic, aren't you?"

"Moi? Never!"

Yorkshire Square specialises in English beer and has an impressive array of handpumps. Me and the kids kick off with a Mild. Which is fair enough take on the style. And goes very well with the sausage rolls we get as well.

We’re sitting outside. Thankfully in the shade. It’s still a bit on the warm side.

“It will be cooler in Cost Mesa.” Kevin reassures us. “As it’s next to the sea.”

I hope that’s true.

Next, it's the turn of Wuthering Stout. Which is a little pale and on the thin side.

We don't linger long. Next stop is Rasselbock, a bar specialising in German beers. We sit in the beer garden. Luckily, it's not too stupidly hot.

"Andrew, you don't look like you're melting for once."

"That's because it's not stupid hot here."

Well, look at that. They've St. Bernardus 8 on tap. I resist the temptation to order that and plump for Rasselbock Don't Look Bock. It's an amber Bock, surprise, surprise. And is quite tasty. 

Most of the beers are German. Not German-style, but German-brewed. That's fine by Andrew. He has a Kölsch. He likes his pale and fizzy beers. Especially when it's hot. We don't stay long. Just as well. I'm starting to get peckish.

The main event is at Kevin's house. Starting with a charcuterie board while the smoker fires up. There's some really nice English cheese which I get stuck into.

"The bread is really nice." Lexxie says. And he's right.

We sit outside in the falling rays of the sun and watch lizards scuttle around the garden. It’s all very relaxing. Other than the occasional aircraft flying nearby. It is, indeed, cooler here.

Kevin's partner, Gina, joins us while the tritip is smoking. In an impressively high-tech smoker, where everything is computer controlled. I'm genuinely amazed by it. Makes our barbecue look like something from the stone age.

Kevin has brewed a pin of Golden Ale. Pulled through a handpump, it looks lovely, with a fluffy white head. It tastes pretty nice, too. The kids seem to agree, judging by how enthusiastically they're getting stuck into it.

The tritip is amazing. Very, very tasty. It puts my roast of the same cut to shame.

We chat about this and that until the kids polish off the Golden Ale. Then the single malt comes out. This is a lot of fun. It helps that here close to the coast that the weather is significantly cooler. And the company is good.

"Do you want some dessert as well as the booze, Andrew?"

"I'll just have the booze."

"That's the most Andrew statement ever." I quip.

"Shut up, Dad."

On the way back downtown we have a good chat with our Indian Uber driver, who's a really nice bloke. But, amazingly, doesn't like cricket.

When we get back everything is shut. Up in our rooms, though, there’s still beer and whisky.

Bourbon is my sleepy time chum.



Yorkshire Square Brewery & Pub
1109 Van Ness Ave,
Torrance,
CA 90501.
http://yorkshiresquarebrewery.com/beer/


Rasselbock Kitchen & Beer Garden
4020 Atlantic Ave,
Long Beach,
CA 90807.
https://www.rasselbocklb.com

Let's Brew - 1914 Hancock SBA

SBA wasn’t exempt from the general drop in gravity amongst Hancock’s beers. Though in its case the fall was relatively small, just 3º.

There have been quite some changes to the recipe. The most obvious, is that it’s no longer all malt. Leaving the grist pretty similar to that of XXB. With the exception that the sugar here is No. 1 invert rather than glucose.

Two thirds of the base malt were made from Californian barley, the rest from English. That’s something you wouldn’t see for much longer, as the war cut off supplies of Californian grain.

The hopping rate has fallen from around 9 lbs per quarter (336 lbs) of malt to 6 lbs. This is reflected in the lower (calculated) IBUs.  Most of the hops were English, topped up with a few Oregons. No harvest gate is listed for either type of hops.

1914 Hancock SBA
pale malt	7.00 lb	72.73%
No. 1 invert sugar	2.50 lb	25.97%
malt extract	0.125 lb	1.30%
Cluster 90 mins	0.50 oz
Goldings 90 mins	1.00 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.50 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.00 oz
OG	1050
FG	1011
ABV	5.16
Apparent attenuation	78.00%
IBU	42
SRM	7
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	White Labs WLP099 Super High Gravity

 

 

Leaving Portland

I'm up very early - 7:30. And immediately ring reception to arrange late checkout. Great. We can laze around in the hotel until 13:00.

We drink some more beer. And get our stash down to a manageable 4 bottles. Which I can just about squeeze into my checkin bag.

“Well done, kids.”

“You weren’t much help.” Andrew is scathing.

“I did . . .”

“Your best. I know. Let’s not go into that again.”

Nice of our driver to let Lexxie sit in the front. It’s a bit of a crush with the three of us on the back seat. Airco on full blast, too. Well worth the extra $8 for a large car.

Portland airport is such a doddle compared to Schiphol. We troll up to the Sky Priority lane and in a minute or two my bag is checked. Security barely takes any longer and we're airside.

"Let's find a bar close to the gate." I suggest.

There’s no argument. Never is when a pub is the suggestion. Weird, that.

We check a map of the terminal and see that there's a Deschutes pub right next to our gate.

"It'll make up for missing out on Wednesday." Andrew says.

We would have visited their downtown Portland taproom yesterday, but it's closed on Wednesday.

You're supposed to order through a QR code thingy. But when Lexxie tries to register, it doesn't like his phone. We do it the old-fashioned way by grabbing hold of a waiter. Not literally, obviously. We’re English. Never dream of doing that.

Me and Andrew order a Fresh-squeezed IPA. It's too fizzy, which masks the hop flavour. Not a patch on the cask version I had a few years back. But it’s only $7.50 for a US pint. That’s amazing value for airside. Just 50 cents more than the city-centre price.

We have a few rounds and some food. We haven't eaten yet and it's already 14:00. I get fish and chips, Alexei a BLAT. Andrew just shares a little of our meals.

"Do you want to try my sandwich, Dad?"

"Of course not. It has avocado in it, the devil's vegetable."

“Shut up, old man.”

We stroll the few yards to our gate just before boarding. Legroom is a bit tight for the kids, but not too bad. I spend the flight watching Breaking Bad and staring occasionally out of the window.

I'm slightly concerned about my checked in bag. Will it ever arrive? No need to worry. It's already on the carousel when we get there.

Getting a taxi is a bit chaotic. You can't pick one up outside the terminal, but have to get a shuttle bus to a special area. It takes a while, but once we're there, it's a doddle getting a cab.

When we stop to be dropped off, I wonder at first if the driver has the right address. It's a parade of run-down shops. Sure enough, there's a hotel at the end. With crumbling stairs and a boarded-up window. Now there's classy.

The rooms aren't as bad, if a little tired. Very tired, to be honest. But not as totally exhausted to death as the corridor.

The view is great. A pile of building materials. Maybe they’re about to do the place up. A bit premature, surely?

Bags dumped, me and Alexei head to Suehiro Mini, a ramen place he found just around the corner.  We turn down a dead dodgy-looking street. My instinct is to turn around. But I continue on for Lexxie’s sake. Luckily, our destination isn’t too far down.

It's very small. About the size of ones in Japan. Well, maybe a tad bigger. When we arrive, there's a cop outside. I wonder if the place is being busted. He's actually just waiting for food. And seems quite friendly, saying hello to us.

We both order Tonkatsu ramen and gyozas. It's good, but very filling. I can't finish all of mine. My ramen, I mean. Obviously, I’d never leave any gyozas.

Back in the kids' room, we watch TV and drink the beer and bourbon we picked up in CVS on the way to the ramen shop.

It's bourbon nudging me towards slumberland today. And away from the gunshots outside.




Deschutes
7000 NE Airport Way,
Portland,
OR 97218.


Suehiro Mini
642 N Broadway #5,
Los Angeles,
CA 90012.
https://www.suehirocafe.com

Lazy Portland day

I'm up fairly early. Just after 8:00. And potter around until Lexxie gets up.

He wants to go to Denny's for breakfast. But gets voted down by me and Andrew. Neither of us is hungry yet. Instead, we work through some of our beer stock while we wait for the brewpubs in the centre of town to open.

Backwoods Brewing is where we start. It's not too crazy hot when we get there. And plonk our arses at a nice corner table.

A fairly typical taproom with a long bar, exposed brickwork and lots of wood.

We don't have much planned today. Just brewpubs. And Powell's City of Books. The kids seem quite keen on giving it a look. And it's only a couple of blocks away from Backwoods.

I kick off with an IPA. 

Logyard IPA, 6.7%, 78 IBU
Pretty classic old-school IPA. Clear and pretty bitter. Not bad.

The kids have gone for the Hinterlander Pilsner. Which they seem to like.

It being well past midday and none of us having eaten, we order food. Burger for Andrew, BLT for Lexxie and a Reuben sandwich for me. As usual, I can't finish it and ask for a box.

Time for more beer.

Off Grid IPA, 6.2% ABV, 50 IBU
A bit hazy and very different from the other IPA. It has that Izal aroma which I suppose is the Chinook. Or some other trendy hop I’m not that keen on.

Andrew has switched to IPA. He does like IPA, but often sticks with a Lager.

I'm not looking forward to the walk to Powell's. Even though it isn't far. It's not too unbearable and we're soon in the chilly embrace of the bookshop's airco.

I head for the beer section. Last time I was here they had my "proper" book. Not any more, sadly. But lots of other books. Just not the sort of ones I'm looking for. Though a strange set of volumes called Siebel Institute Personal Notes. A mix of handwritten and typed notes. All very technical stuff.  But they’re way too bulky and heavy to fit in my luggage.

I go in search of the kids. But can't see them anywhere. After a while of wandering, I spot a bench and sit down. I'm by the tils. They're bound to come past here sometime.

They don't. So, I set off in search of them again.

"There you are, Dad. We thought you'd be at the military history section."

Alexie has got some academic book about spies. But is also looking for a Japanese novel. The staff eventually point him in the right direction. He's dead pleased.

The heat hits us like a hot hammer when we exit. Fuck me it's hot.

Next destination in 10 Barrel. Which is back the way we came. But a bit further and a bit more uphill. It's an unpleasant, but thankfully quite short, stroll.

The kids race off ahead, as usual. Can’t they wait for their poor old dad? No. They fucking can’t. No regard at all for my age and radgedness.

“Could you slow down?”

“No. Could you speed up? And shut up complaining.”

We seat ourselves at a high table. And try to get the QR code-driven menu to work. I leave that to the kids. Like all the other high-tech stuff.

I order an IPA again.

Nature Calls Mountain IPA, 7.1%, 45 IBU
Very pale in colour, quite hazy, not very bitter.More modern type of IPA, I suppose. Quite refreshing.

Lexxie has a pomegranate cider, while Andrew is back on Pils.

He's very impressed with the Pils. "It tastes like a proper German Pils."

It's pretty lively considering it's the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. Though the weather is going to give you a thirst.

The brewery is crammed into a tiny area, which is almost totally filled with conicals.

"How much do you think they hold, Dad?"

"A lot more than ten barrels."

Time for something a little stronger.

All Ways Down Double IPA, 9%, 75 IBU
Clear and golden. Very bitter and citrusy. And full of alcoholy goodness.

The two women beside us are drinking Old Fashioneds. Jim made ones for us on Sunday.

"I've seen them on Sunday Brunch a lot, but never tried one." I said to the kids at the time.

"Do you fancy an Old Fashioned, kids?"

Of course, they do. We get them made with Buffalo trace. They're dead good. So good, I drink three.

After six, many more diners stream in. It's time for us to fuck off.

The Uber is a van this time. Plenty of room for three big lads like us.

More beer and baseball in the kids’ room. The Mariners pull off a late win against the Rangers again.

By 22:00 I can barely keep my eyes open and the kids keep poking me to keep me awake.

“Stop poking me.”

“Then go to your own room and sleep.”

I'm asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.




Backwoods Brewing Company
1162 Wind River Hwy,
Carson,
WA 98610.
https://www.backwoodsbrewingcompany.com


Powell's City of Books
1005 W Burnside St,
Portland,
OR 97209.
https://www.powells.com


10 Barrel Brewing Portland
1411 NW Flanders St,
Portland,
OR 97209.

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1912 Cairnes Single Stout

Many thanks to Alex Witt for providing the photos of the Cairnes records.

On the one hand, it looks like Porter was well on its way out around 1900. But was that really the case? Because there are lots of “Stouts” which, in terms of gravity, look very much like a Porter to me. So, were Porters just renamed Stout because it sounded classier?

In Ireland this seems to be particularly true. For example, Guinness Porter was often sold as Single Stout. I suspect something similar was going on at Cairnes. Because this looks very similar to a London Porter.

At least in terms of strength, as the grist isn’t the same. As was usual outside London, the only roasted grain is black malt. Though, unusually for Ireland, sugar was also involved. In the very simple form of glucose.

There were equal amounts of three types of hops: Poperinge from the 1911 crop, English from 1908 and Bohemian from 1905. Lots of pretty old hops. Not sure what that says, if anything. 

1912 Cairnes Single Stout
pale malt	9.75 lb	84.78%
black malt	0.75 lb	6.52%
glucose	1.00 lb	8.70%
Strisselspalt 120 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.00 oz
Saaz 30 mins	1.00 oz
OG	1052
FG	1012.5
ABV	5.23
Apparent attenuation	75.96%
IBU	33
SRM	24
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	58.5º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1084 Irish ale

Train, train!

Our train to Portland isn't until the afternoon. So, we arrange a late checkout. And try to get through at least some of our huge beer stash.

The kids make a fairly good job of it, brave little troopers that they are. I do my best to help, in my oldie person sort of way.

“Hurry up, Dad! You’re not drinking your share. We’ll never get through them at this rate.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“Well, it’s not good enough.”

It’s a terrible thing to be a disappointment to your children.

“Then try drinking faster.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes. Christ, you’re going senile. Shut up and get on with drinking.”

It's much warmer today, unfortunately. Much, much warmer. Which me and Alexei notice as we head over to the Mecca Cafe for breakfast.

It's a proper diner place. Exactly what I was after. We both order a three-egg breakfast. It turns out to be ginormous. Three eggs, three rashers of bacon, two sausages all on a massive bed of hash browns. And two big pancakes. No toast, mind.

Breakfast totally defeats me. I can't eat that much. I leave my pancakes and most of the hash browns untouched.

We Uber it to the station. Which is quite crowded. We seem to have arrived at exactly the right time. The queue behinds gets much longer soon after we join it.

At least there's always plenty of legroom in Amtrak trains. Even if they are a pain in the arse to get into, with the stupidly low platforms and steep steps.

I'm feeling quite knacked and doze most of the way. About two-thirds of the way in, the airco starts struggling. The temperature in the carriage rises. Not as high as outside, but enough to make it uncomfortable.

It's boiling outside Portland Union Station. Where we wait for our Uber to show up. It's not a very big car. And we all have to sit in the back. Which is incredibly uncomfortable. Luckily, it isn't far to our hotel.

Checked in, we crowd around the ac to cool down.

"We'd best drink some more of this beer, Dad." Andrew suggests.

"Sure. I'm always up for more beer."

“Remember to keep up the pace. We’ve a lot to get through.”

“I will Andrew. Just don’t shout at me again.”

Lexxie, diligent lad that he is, has found somewhere for us to eat.

"Red Robin. It's just down the road."

The sun has fallen in the sky and it's somewhat cooler. Though still not exactly cool. Red Robin is, indeed, fairly close by. It looks a bit closed, as all the blinds are drawn.

It is open. I think they've just been keeping the sun out.

We order some drinks from an enthusiastic waitress. The kids get a large beer. I order a diet coke. And a margarita. It goes with the hot weather.  

The waitress asks for the kids’ IDs. They show her their UK passports. But she can’t seem to work out where the date of birth is.

“Well, if you’re old enough to drink in the country you come from, that’s good enough for me.”

I’m amazed at such a cavalier attitude to drinking age. Though both kids are well over it. And almost 7 foot tall.

Hydrated, we order food. Nothing too large for me. Just a BBQ chicken wrap and a salad. The kids both opt for burger and chips.

I can't finish mine. And get a box to take it home. I'm sure I'll eat it later.

We drop by Wahlgreens on the way back. To get some water. And beer. Not sure why the kids want 12 more cans of beer when we already have so much.

It's baseball and beer in the hotel. The Mariners just edge out the Rangers in an exciting finish. I hope the kids aren't expecting something similar next week when we see the Padres.

“Don’t expect the Padres game to be as exciting as this. Baseball is mostly much less exciting.”

“Like cricket?”

“No. Nothing like cricket. That’s just wall-to-wall excitement.”

“Yeah, right.”

I do finish my wrap, my hunger perhaps awoken by a whisky or two.

I don't stay up very late. In fact, I struggle to keep my eyes open. "Stay awake, Dad." They're afraid that I'll fall asleep in one of their beds and they won't be able to wake me up. Ever.

I make it to my own bed. And collapse immediately into unconsciousness.




Mecca Cafe
526 Queen Anne Ave N,
Seattle,
WA 98109.
https://mecca-cafe.com/



Red Robin Gourmet Burgers and Brews
1139 NE Grand Ave,
Portland,
OR 97232.
https://www.redrobin

 

If you liked this post, maybe consider buying the book about my trip to Japan and South Korea with the kids.

 

Seattle downtown

We're changing hotels today. It's too late when we rise to get breakfast. Instead, we pack and pile into an Uber.

Why aren't we on the motorway, I wonder. Surely that's the way to get downtown? It turns out that there's been a mix up. The Uber was provided by the hotel and they'd given the driver the same address as yesterday: Foggy Noggin. Just as well we're in no rush.

We're staying fairly well downtown. Which means there's lots of stuff nearby. Like somewhere to eat.

There's a taco place, Dos Chamucos, over the road. Just $3 a taco. Ok, they're quite small, but it's still cheap. As I'm not that hungry, I order two. And a margarita. Don't fancy a beer, this time. I'll be drinking lots of that over the next few days.

I do like a margarita. A caipirinha, too. Especially when it’s hot. They slide down a treat. The kids are sticking with beer.

“It’s very colourful in here.” I opine.

“That’s Mexico for you.”

“We’ll be experiencing it first hand in a few days.”

“If we make it across the border alive.”

“Crossing which way?”

Fed, we laze in the air-conditioned delight of the hotel. Where, ironically, I warm myself up for the evening with a whiskey or two.

“Leave some for me, Dad.” Andrew objects.

“Who paid for it?

“If you’re going to be picky, Mum did.”

I'm due at Machine House (or Machine Head as Lexxie keeps calling it) for my second and final event of this trip. As usual, we get an Uber there.

It's quite full. And everyone must be there for me, as they don't usually open on Monday. That’s a fairly good sign.

This is a more formal talk. Complete with a Powerpoint and everything. To go with the event, Bill, the English owner, has brewed five cask Mild Ales of varying vintages. It's like heaven, really. Dolores was so jealous when I told her.

The talk runs smoothly, though I'm feeling pretty hot. The kids shelter outside in the breeze, watching BNSF freight trains roll endlessly past.

When I start flogging books after I'm done jabbering I notice that I've forgotten to bring from the hotel the volume I specifically lugged across the Atlantic for this event: Mild! plus. Damn.

Bill packs us off with a load of stuff. T-shirts and beer. The kids are reluctant to take so much beer. Especially as we're already packing quite a bit Jim gave us at Foggy Noggin.

“You can never have too much beer.”

“It’s easy for you to say that, Dad, when you aren’t the one carrying it.”

They’re so ungrateful. No-one was giving me free beer when I was their age.

“When I was your age . . .”

“Shut up, Dad, we’ve heard it all before. You slept on a block of ice and ate nothing but gruel. Times have changed.”

Feeling a bit peckish when back at the hotel, we nip over the road to Dick's, an incredibly cheap burger place. Just $2.60 for a cheeseburger. Bargain. It’s incredibly stripped-down, just a counter and a big open space. No tables, no seats, just open space. Seems, sort of, a waste of space.

We eat our burgers in the hotel. Topped off with a little Tomintin to glide me down sleep's deep valley.

You can hear my talk at Machine House here.




Dos Chamucos Taqueria
550 Queen Anne Ave N,
Seattle,
WA 98109.
https://www.doschamucos.com/



Machine House Brewery
5840 Airport Way S #121,
Seattle,
WA 98108.
https://www.machinehousebrewery.com/beer/

Dick's Drive-In
500 Queen Anne Ave N,
Seattle,
WA 98109.
https://www.ddir.com/

 

If you liked this post, maybe consider buying the book about my trip to Japan and South Korea with the kids.

 

Bothell

We don't rise very early. Well, the kids don't. Me and Lexxie head down for breakfast at 10:30. And just miss breakfast. But they are serving brunch.

Luckily, I can get something with fried eggs: pork hash. It's quite nice, but the broccoli is almost raw and very tough. As we eat, the dining room fills up a bit. Still far from full, though it is pretty big.

Our hotel is in the middle of a state park, with various trails. We decide to take one down to lake Washington. It's very peaceful amongst the towering pine trees. Well, apart from all the people with dogs. And runners. And families with small kids. At least they're all on a lead. The dogs, I mean. And runners with kids and dogs with families. Near as dammit totally deserted.

We don't make it all the way down to the lake. If we had, I'd be well and truly fucked. 

“Kids. My lungs can't cope with these slopes. If I don’t stop now, I’ll never get back up.”

“Wimp.”

“Thanks for the sympathy, Lexxie. Just wait until you get old.”

“At least you’ll be long dead by then.”

“Lovely, Lexxie, lovely.”

“And they’ll probably have found some way to stop oldies getting useless the way you are.”

“Thanks.”

“Shut up with that thanks shit. And don’t just switch to another language.”

Damn. It’s as if Lexxie can read my mind.

“You’re so predictable.”

And I keep saying things out loud?

“And you keep saying things out loud”

As it is, I have to take multiple rests on the way up. While the kids waltz ahead, whistling. The bastards.

We're due at Foggy Noggin between 14:00 and 14:30. With my talk scheduled to start at 15:00.  Leaving us an hour or so to chill in our very classy hotel. Just as well I have that bottle of whisky to entertain us. And the kids that beer.

Suitably warmed up for my gig, I get a hotel shuttle. Well, Uber. We sit outside and wait. And wait. So long, I go back to reception and ask where the fuck it is. Obviously, I don’t put it that way, as I’m English.

“Do you know where my car might possibly be?”

It cancelled. Great. He books another.

“Thank you so much.” Remaining polite at all times is my super power.

We arrive at the back end of the time slot. Apart from the delay, it's further than I thought from the hotel.

Most of the attendees are already here so we kick off pretty much straight away.

It's an informal affair, which I conduct seated. Much better, as it takes a while. I really can’t be doing with standing for an hour or more, If I can avoid it.

 

Jim, the owner, has brewed six AKs of various vintages. Which we go through in reverse chronological order. It makes sense, as that's moving up in strength.

There's lots of interaction with the audience, who ask loads of questions. When I'm done, I hang around and chat. And shift a few books, which is always good. Especially as they’re dead weight I’ll be lugging around for the rest of the trip.

When the crowd has thinned out, a couple from the audience introduce the kids to cornhole. Lexxie, in particular, seems to enjoy it. Probably because of Beavis and Butt-head, which he’s always quoting. He’s worse than me and Barclay Perkins.

We finish on the deck, where we eat pizza, drink bourbon and chat away.

It's quite late when we leave. There's just time for a Tomintin eye-closer back at the hotel.

You can watch a video of the talk here.

Foggy Noggin Brewing
22329 53rd Ave SE,
Bothell,
WA 98021.
http://www.foggynogginbrewing.com

 

If you liked this post, maybe consider buying the book about my trip to Japan and South Korea with the kids.

 

Let's Brew - 1914 Hancock XXB

As with all Hancock’s other beers, XXB has seen a substantial drop in gravity since 1897. In this case, 6º. Leaving it at just 1040º.

Neither has the recipe remained unchanged. Out go the No. 1 and No. 2 invert sugar and in come glucose and malt extract. The base malt this time was two thirds Californian and one third English. Which is completely different from 1897.

Just one type of English hop was used. I’ve guessed Goldings. Annoyingly, Hancock had given up recording the age of the hops in the brewing book. So, I’ve assumed they were all pretty fresh. The dry hopping is very heavy: 45 lbs compared to 63 lbs copper hops.
 

1914 Hancock XXB
pale malt	6.00 lb	76.19%
glucose	1.75 lb	22.22%
malt extract	0.125 lb	1.59%
Goldings 90 mins	1.00 oz
Goldings 30 mins	1.00 oz
Goldings dry hops	1.50 oz
OG	1040
FG	1010
ABV	3.97
Apparent attenuation	75.00%
IBU	27
SRM	3.5
Mash at	151º F
Sparge at	175º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	60º F
Yeast	White Labs WLP099 Super High Gravity