Back to London

The hotel doesn’t do breakfast. A quick internet search brings up a café within walking distance. That’s where we head. With our luggage, as we’ve checked out.

Cook House Cafe is in a small light industrial estate. And pretty tiny. We grab one of the two tables and look at the menu. It’s pretty obvious what I want. A full English, with extra bacon. And a cup of tea, obviously. It’s pretty good. Just what I need.

Chris isn’t so sure about his wrap. Perhaps not the best choice. This isn’t a wrap sort of place.

We’re due at Holden’s again. This time to look around the brewery itself. George meets us again and guides us through the brewhouse. Starting with the mash tun. Which is served by a Steel’s masher and is clad in wood.

“What sort of mash do you do?” I ask.

”Just a single infusion and sparge.”

I don’t need to ask what their base malt is. I can see the sacks of Crisp Maris Otter. And proper tall hop pockets of Herefordshire Fuggles. All very old school.

We move downstairs to the copper. The really scary steam punk copper. That looks like a Victorian spaceship about to take off. With steam erupting from all its seams. Mike won’t stand anywhere near it. I don’t blame him. It looks like it’s about to explode.

There’s one thing you can guarantee in a brewery visit: lots of walking up and down stairs. We proceed down a set to the fermentation room. Which is crammed with rectangular open fermenters.

There’s a decent head of all the fermenters I poke my head into. They’re cooled by attemperators – metal pipes inside the fermenter through which cold water can be pumped to regulate the temperature of the wort.

At the end of the room are a couple of smaller, round fermenters. Brews are either 24 or 36 barrels. With the rounds used for the smaller batches.

There are also several conical fermenters, which are used for beers that they brew under contract. They also do a lot of contract bottling, packaging an impressive 500 barrels a day. Some they brew themselves but much is tinkered in.

The yeast is simply stored in plastic tubs in a cold room. They’ve been repatching for several decades. They were a bit vague about the original source, saying they got yeast from Wrexham Lager Brewery, Wem and Highgate. Which is a bit of a weird mix. Especially the first. Whatever it is, I’m sure it long ago adapted to the particular conditions in the brewery.

We get to watch a yeast harvest. No parachute here, but a giant vacuum cleaner sucking the yeast down a pipe and into a waiting tub on the floor below. It looks very healthy yeast.

When looking around the cask store, it’s immediately apparent that they use some much larger casks than Marstons. There are some full-size barrels (36 gallons). Chris is amazed by their size.

A tasing of Holden’s beers next. The full set, which is quite extensive. With Ivan, the head brewer, and George’s father, just back this morning from his holiday.

I’m most interested in trying the Old Ale, which I’m pretty sure I’ve never had before. It’s full and chewy. For such a small brewery – they own just 18 pubs – they have quite a wide range of beers. Including a Lager.

Holden’s Mild has a surprisingly complex grist. In addition to pale, there’s also amber, chocolate and crystal malt. Plus No. 1 invert sugar. That’s quite unusual. Few Mild Ales have so many different malts. And no No. 3 invert.

They’ve dug out a 1958 brewing book for me. Which I snap as we chat. From a quick glance, it appears to be about 95% Mild.

It’s been a fun visit. And everyone has been extremely friendly.

As Chris hasn’t been to the Beacon Hotel, we head there next. We’ve time for a pint or two before our train.

We’re dropped off at the side of the pub. Quite close to the brew house, whose open windows suggest brewing activity.

We settle in one of the small front rooms and turn our thoughts to beer. Which in my case means Mild. Mike preferring the drier of the two Bitters on offer.

“Do you want to try a cob?” Mike asks Chris.

“What’s a cob?”

After Mike explains, we get one each. It really is an almost perfect pub snack. Not enough to fill you up, but enough to line your stomach.

Mike returns from a toilet visit to inform us that he bumped into one of the brewers. And that we can go and take a look at the brewery. I don’t need asking twice. Even though I’ve visited it once before.

As I remember, it’s a small, but perfectly formed, Victorian tower brewery. Going grist case, mash tun, copper, fermenters, in vertical order. All on a tiny footprint.

The copper is just a tub made of, er, copper. Bricked into the floor. It looks dead cool, if slightly scary.

“How do you get the colour in Sarah Hughes Mild?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that. I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement when I started brewing.”

Fair enough. Wouldn’t want him to get into legal trouble. I would guess about possible ingredients. Except that’s a fool’s game. Didn’t see any invert sugar, though.

The fermentation room looks very American. As it’s filled with Grundy tanks. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in use in the UK before.

Surprisingly, they also use full-sized barrels here. Despite the minute size of the brewery. The brewer tells us that they shift a barrel of the Mild every day. That’s impressive. I can’t imagine many other places selling Mild that quickly. At least, not outside the Black Country.

We only get an hour and half, before we need to catch our train. A shame. I could have happily stayed in the Beacon Hotel until well into the evening, It’s such a welcoming place.

We change in the gloomy hellhole of Birmingham New Street again. The train starts here so we can get on well ahead of time. Chris is sitting in another carriage.

The train manages to be 20 minutes late. In an 80-minute journey. Just as well we’re not in a hurry.

Euston Station is mobbed. Really mobbed. It takes quite a while to escape it. Then struggle over to Euston Square tube. London is so much fun when you’re towing luggage behind you. And up stairs. So many stairs.

We don’t doss around our rooms for long. Or at all. Twenty minutes, or so.

The plan was to go to the Lamb. But Mike is hungry and spotted a Korean place opposite.

“Are you OK with eating there?” Mike asks.

“Fine by me. I love Korean food.”

We manage to squeeze in. Though we only have an hour. Should be long enough, given how hungry I’m feeling.

Beef barbecue is what we order. What to drink? It has to be soju, for me. Not something I get the chance to drink often.

Our waitress is dead impressed when Chris sings along to a K-pop tune that’s playing.

“How do you know that?” she asks.

“It’s one of my son’s favourite songs.”

The food is pretty nice. Except that there’s no kimchi. Which is one of my favourite things. And sort of an essential element of Korean cuisine.

Next stop is the Olde Mitre. A short tube ride away. It’s surprisingly full. With tables now reaching almost all the way up the alleyway leading to the pub. Inside it’s packed, too. Pints packed, we move back outside. Where I, at least, can park my sorry arse in a seat.

“Why is it so full?” Mike asks.

“Because Thursday is the new Friday. No-one goes into the office on Friday anymore.”

“Really?”

There’s a much younger crowd than in the Midlands pubs. A mix of after work drinkers and tourists.

We stay for a couple. The plan being to return to a pub closer to our hotel. Then Mike suggests we go to a cocktail bar instead. Fine by me.

It’s in a basement. With a low ceiling and even lower lights. Pretty full, but we find a couple of stools. Then drink some cocktails. What are they called? I can’t remember. It’s all getting a bit blurry.

It’s just after midnight when we leave.

No need for hotel whisky to speed me to slumber tonight.

Cook House Cafe
20 Brook St,
Tipton DY4 9DD.


Holdens Brewery
George St,
Woodsetton,
Dudley DY1 4LW.
https://www.holdensbrewery.co.uk/


The Beacon Hotel
129 Bilston St,
Sedgley,
Dudley DY3 1JE.
http://www.sarahhughesbrewery.co.uk/


Bento Bab
4 Commercial St,
London E1 6LP.
http://bentobab.com/


Ye Olde Mitre
1 Ely Ct,
Ely Pl,
London EC1N 6SJ.
https://www.yeoldemitreholborn.co.uk/


Discount Suit Company
29A Wentworth St,
London E1 7TB.
http://www.discountsuitcompany.co.uk/

 

Disclosure: my travel and all expenses were paid by Goose Island.

 

More cachaça!

We continue on to another cachaçaria, Wruck. Which is on a much more industrial scale. Though it’s still a family business. The nice young man who shows us around tells us that his father, uncle and sister all work here.

The still is much more high-tech than the one at Dupipe. I doubt very much that they built this one themselves. It’s all gleaming copper and stainless steel.

I’m a bit baffled by some of the equipment. The fermenters are easy to grasp. Not so much another bunch of other stainless-steel vessels that look a bit like a brewhouse. But not quite. I think they might be something to do with molasses.

At the back of the distillery building logs of wood are piled up. Presumably to be used to fire the impressive-looking boiler.

We try a couple of the cachaças. The older one is rich, dark and very smooth. Really rather nice. So nice, in fact, that I buy a bottle.

Just a little down the road is our next stop, Bylaardt. I’ve been here before. Though I’m happy to visit again, as the cachaças were dead good. The owner shows us around.

Just like last time, they’re fermenting. The smell smacks you in the face as soon as you enter the room. Fermentation takes about 30 hours, hitting a maximum temperature of 34º C. They’re also distilling, with the still hissing scarily. You can see the raw spirit trickling from the condenser. Like the other two distilleries we’ve been to today, it’s wood fuelled.

There are some large stainless-steel vessels out in the open. With next to them a shed housing a couple of barrel rooms. The first has relatively new barrels. The second somewhat older ones and the third three large vats of 2,500 litres.

“Do you want to sample some now?” the owner asks. Er, yes please.

He starts by pouring us an 18-year-old from a small wooden cask. It’s absolutely incredible. The long time in oak has left it with a deep amber colour and an enticing vanilla aroma. In the mouth it’s fruity and rounded, with a massive depth of flavour. It’s fantastic stuff. One of the best cachaças I’ve tried.

Once again, it’s a proper measure. We have a couple more samples, including an anburana-aged cachaça. It was on my last visit that I first encountered this incredibly spicy wood. And I’m a fan. As long as it’s used carefully. Too much and you’re fucked, flavour-wise.

There’s a selection of small casks of different shapes, up to 20 litres in size. Some are of fresh oak, some of recycled oak from larger barrels and some from fresh amburana. If only I weren’t travelling by plane, I’d be seriously tempted to buy one, as a 10-litre barrel is just 150 euros.

“Would you like any more samples?” the owner asks. Of course I fucking do. He pours me another full measure of the 18-year-old. It’s really knocking my socks off. It’s up there with a really, really good single malt.

We reluctantly leave, with me feeling a little lightheaded from the generous samples.

The countryside is just as extravagant on our return journey. A heterogenous horde of trees occupy the hillsides, popping every shade of green. And the flowers. Not just in the neat gardens of occasional houses. No, they erupt from every crack between their big brother trees. Flamboyantly refusing to be bullied.

It’s been a brilliant trip.

And it isn’t over yet. As we enter the outskirts of Blumenau, Rafael asks me if I’d like to visit a German-style beer garden called Norden for some food. Definitely, as I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

The garden is around one of the oldest houses in Blumenau. And which housed the city’s first brewery, back in the 19th century.

Walking through the house, it’s decked out in totally German style. Even the signs are all in German as well as Portuguese.

We get a Metzgerplatte to share. As the name implies, it’s several kinds of meat. Including some yummy bacon. Just what I’ve been missing. I wash it down with an IPA, while the others have Paulaner Oktoberfest.

As it’s pretty early, there aren’t that many other punters when we arrive. It starts filling up and a German band, consisting of an accordionist and a bassist, start playing typical German pub tunes.

When we leave, it’s getting on for 21:00. The Policia Militar are up to something in the car park. It’s the first time I’ve seen them do anything other than score free food in pubs.

Back in my room, I watch Match of the Day 2. And some other crap on Ziggo. I don’t stay up too late. It’s been a tiring, but wonderful, day.

It’s the mandarin liqueur that takes my hand and leads me to sleep today.



Cachaçaria Wruck
Rua: Ver.Otto Wruck, 2485
Francês, Luiz Alves
SC, 89128-000.
https://cachacawruck.com.br/


Alambique Bylaardt
Rua Prefeito Wilibaldo Van Den Bylaardt, 6349,
Braço Serafim, Luiz Alves
SC, 89128-000.
http://www.cachacasbylaardt.com.br/


Norden Bar e Restaurante
R. Xavantina, 100
Boa Vista, Blumenau
SC, 89030-002.
 

Let's Brew Wednesday - 2006 Youngs Stout

After all the Pale Ales, here’s something a little different: a Stout.

I’m not sure when Youngs started brewing this Stout. I’m pretty sure that it wasn’t in their range in the 1980s. Though, obviously, at some point in the past they would have brewed one. Just because everyone made one in the first half of the 20th century. Checking the Whitbread Gravity Book, Youngs brewed a Stout until at least 1969.

This was obviously brewed as an Oatmeal Stout, with, at a bit over 4% of the grist, a decent quantity of oats. Unlike some examples from between the wars, where the oat content was often only around 1%.

There’s only a single coloured malt, chocolate. Which brings to mind Whitbread’s 20th-century Stout recipes, which also used chocolate rather than black malt. Other than that, there’s also sugar in the form of Youngs Special Mix. For which I’ve substituted No. 2 invert. There’s also what appears to be a small amount of actual chocolate.

As with the Pale Ales, there were two types of English hops, from the 2004 and 2005 harvests. 

2006 Youngs Stout
pale malt	11.25 lb	87.01%
chocolate malt	0.67 lb	5.18%
flaked oats	0.50 lb	3.87%
No. 2 invert sugar	0.50 lb	3.87%
chocolate	0.01 lb	0.08%
Fuggles 90 min	0.67 oz
Goldings 30 min	0.67 oz
OG	1057
FG	1015
ABV	5.56
Apparent attenuation	73.68%
IBU	15
SRM	23
Mash at	152º F
Sparge at	165º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	64º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1968 London ESB (Fullers)

More Black Country

We get back to our hotel just before 16:00. And check into our rooms. Which are down a gloomy corridor. Doesn’t look that great.

Inside, the room is lovely. With a really good, modern bathroom. The approach really doesn’t sell the rooms. Not that I stay in mine very long. As I’m meeting Mike downstairs for a drink. Maybe a beer.

They have five cask beers: Lump Hammer Ruby Mild (3.7%), Bitter (3.6%) and Gold (4.2%); Sledge Hammer Pale Ale (5.2%) and Vumpy $.3%). A fairly decent range. And quite similar to what Holden’s offer. Heartening to see cask Mild again.

Who brews them? They seem to have started at Broughs Brewery in Wolverhampton. But they appear closed. Next, they were made by Dig Brew in Birmingham. Only for them also to close in 2023. It’s very confusing.

Chris Quinn, owner of the Beer Temple in Chicago, has flown in to join us. He’s looking remarkably chipper, considering he’s flown across the Atlantic and taken three trains to get here.

We have a few beers. Suddenly, we’re all hungry. Weird, that. What could we possibly eat in a pie factory?

“Pasta, everyone?” I ask, sarcastically.

It’s pies all around. Lamb and mint sauce for me. On the recommendation of the barmaid.

When the pies arrive, I see that Chris’s steak and kidney is a pudding. A proper suet pudding. Shit. I would have had that, if I’d known it was a suet pudding. Not even my pie-Nazi son Andrew could complain about that.

[“Not that stupid lid thing.” Is Andrew’s verdict on my pie.]

My pie is pretty nice. Maybe a little heavy on the mint sauce, even for me. Decent chips. Could have done with some mushy peas.

Food eaten, and another pint or two drunk, adventure time begins. When we journey to Brierley Hill. And the Batham’s brewery tap, the Vine. Which has a similar feel to the Beacon Hotel. With several small, discrete rooms.

Mild for me, obviously. I really like it. Too sweet for Mike. For me: a bit on the sweet side, but depth of flavour. Very drinkable, too.

Mike isn’t any happier with the Bitter, which he also finds too sweet. Which is a shame, as the Mild is going down a treat. He’d be happier with Holden’s.

“What about the Park Inn?” I suggest.

“Sounds good.”

It’s Holden’s brewery tap. And where it started. As I suspected, as a brewery attached to the pub. In a really weird year: 1915. That’s when pub breweries were closing, not opening.

It’s very brightly lit. A full range of their cask beers, though. Mild, Bitter, Golden Glow and Special. All well under four quid a pint. Mild in every pub, so far, in the Black Country.

An oldish crowd again. Some youngsters, though. Footy on the telly. And a bloke standing at the bar that looks like Noddy Holder. As he is now, not a young Noddy Holder.

Things are starting to catch up with Chris. Lack of sleep, long drinking session. Little things like that.

We leave at throwing out time.

Just time for a quick hotel whisky back in my room.


Mad O'Rourke's Pie Factory
Hurst Lane, Tipton,
West Midlands DY4 9AB
https://www.madorourkes.com


The Vine Inn
10 Delph Rd.,
Brierley Hill DY5 2TN.
http://www.bathams.co.uk/


The Park Inn
George St,
Woodsetton,
Dudley DY1 4LW. 

Disclosure: my travel and all expenses were paid by Goose Island.

Cachaça!

I rise a little after nine. Heading downstairs for breakfast soon after.

I join Alex at a table. Not long after, Jos Brouwer sits with us. Chris arrives a little later, but can’t stay long as he’s being given a lift to Florianopolis. I have my usual breakfast.

A group of judges are planning to go to the Xanadu distillery, meeting at 13:30 in reception. Until then, I hang around in my room doing some writing and other stuff. I’m down in reception at 13:20. Where there aren’t many people about, only a couple of Brazilian judges.

After a while Rafael Santos comes up and says that the others went for lunch, but should be coming back. The minutes tick by. When it gets to 14:00, Rafael, who has a car, suggests that we go to some other cachaçarias north of the city. I don’t take much persuading, as I’ve already been to Xanadu twice.

Another Brazilian judge accompanies us. Having Portuguese speakers with me will be handy, if past brewery and distillery visits are anything to go by. Google Translate could only partially come to the rescue.

The weather is much more pleasant today. It looks like it rained all night and it’s still pretty overcast. It’s only in the low 20s. The coolest I’ve ever experienced it here.

Streaming past us are pastures, paddy fields and the occasional stand of sugar cane, backed by steep, wooded hills, alive with dozens of shades of green. The gardens of the rare houses bursting with brightly-coloured tropical flowers. It’s very different from Holland.

Our first stop is Dupipe. We enter via a narrow and, at times, steep track. We struggle to get up one section. Good job we’re in a four-wheel drive. At the end, several dogs run out barking to greet us. Where the hell is the distillery?

A man of about my age appears. It’s the owner. We’re in a stunning tropical garden where exotic flowers erupt from between all types of mature trees. Fish ponds on different levels punctuate the garden It’s ridiculously idyllic.

The owner throws some food into one of the ponds so we can see the fish, which are surprisingly large. Then points to a toucan perching in one of the trees. It seems a million miles away from Blumenau.

The distillery is in a shed. Above the door there’s a sign saying that it’s not allowed to enter drunk, but it is to leave.

Inside, there’s a small space with rows of bottles and larger jugs. In a connecting room, there’s the still, which the owner made himself. It’s rather, er, rustic. In the next room there’s a row if huge glass jars, where he’s making liqueurs from whole fruit. Including the strange pink bananas he showed us earlier in his garden.

Finally, we get to the barrel room. The barrels are furry with black mould. And bats flutter around under the eaves when we disturb them. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

The tour doesn’t take long. Then the sampling begins. First the silver and gold straight cachaças. They’re both very good. And the measures the size of a full measure. But the liqueurs are the true revelation. 

The standouts being the banana and the ginger. I’ve never experienced anything like the latter. It’s bursting with the flavour of fresh ginger: citrusy and with a tongue-tingling spiciness. Wow. Looking at the ginger to cachaça ratio in the big glass jar, it’s no surprise that it’s so intense.

I buy bottles of the two straight cachaças and the ginger liqueur. You won’t find them anywhere else as he doesn’t distribute.

Our next stop is a roadside smokehouse. Where we sample two different types of pork scratchings, one quite soft and the other much harder. I buy a bag of the latter. And a sausage.

Cachaça Dupipe
Rua Bonifácio Haendchen, 7999
Belchior Alto, Gaspar
SC, 89117-870.
http://cachacadupipe.epizy.com