New Amsterdam beer pub

I like to think that I've got my finger on the pulse of Amsterdam. But I think lots of things. So it was a bit of a shock to discover a beer pub that I knew nothing about. How embarrassing.

John Clarke tipped me off (thank you, John). The report was confirmed by a colleague of Will's. Am I the last to find out? Actually, I blame Mike. He was supposed to have investigated the islands. So it's him who missed it, really. Not that I'm pointing the finger at him, but it was totally his fault.

Now I've finished distributing praise and retribution, maybe we can discuss the pub itself, Westerdok. I'd walked past it before, many years ago. It had never been open. Then again, it had been 6 o' clock in the morning. Not many pubs open at that time.

You'll have to excuse me if I'm parsimonious with facts and details. Me and Mike hit Westerdok a good way into the afternoon. We started off with a couple in Wildeman (the delicious Hummel Räucherator), then continued on to Wijnand Fockinck to sit in the wonderful garden. And drink jenever, obviously.

By the time we reached Westerdok we were already quite cheerful. When we left, we were positively euphoric. Let's see what I can remember about it. It's located on the Westerdok (what a surprise) just over the road from the Silo. (I may, one day, tell you some of my Silo stories. You can just about see the Silo in the background of the picture to the left.)

The pub is on the corner a row of 19th century houses. The interior is charmingly downbeat. Just my sort of place. I can't remember how many draught beers they had. Between 6 and 8. I do recall that there were around 50 bottled beers. In Amsterdam that qualifies it as a fully-fledged beer pub.

I seem to remember eating bitterballen. That must have been Mike's idea. He's always eating, not that you'd think it to look at him. Must have a tapeworm.

Next thing in my memory is waking up with the football on. I guess there were a couple of events inbetween, like walking back to the Nieuwezijds Voorburgwal, getting on a tram, eating my tea. They don't seem to have left any impression on my mind. I'm even a bit hazy about the score in the football.

And my coat seems to have gone missing. I suspect Dolores may have just taken the opportunity to throw it away. She's been on at me to replace it for a couple of years. It had just about fallen apart. But buying clothes is such a chore. I try to limit the experience to once every two or three years.

Reading it back, this isn't my most informative post ever. But, hey, there are facts to spare in the posts that straddle it. Just borrow a few from one of those, if you feel shortchanged.



Café Westerdok
Westerdoksdijk 715/A,
1013 BX Amsterdam.
Tel: 020 - 428 9670
Email: cafe-westerdok@xs4all.nl
http://www.westerdok.eu/

Opening times:
Mon closed
Tue - Thur 16:00 - 00:00
Fri - Sat 16:00 - 01:00
Sun 16:00 - 00:00

Sources

Not all sources are created equal. I was trying to explain this to my son Andrew at the weekend. My explanation involved a fair deal of waving around of two books. Important tools for concretising my argument.

In one hand I held "Die Herstellung Obergähriger Bier", in the other the "Vienna/Märzen" in the Brewers' Publications series. Both are books, both are about beer. Are they equally trustworthy? (If you answered that question with a "yes", eff off and leave by blog at once, Homebrew Twat.) I would say obviously not.

(Just the title "Vienna/Märzen" is enough to raise serious doubts. The two aren't synonymous. Not all Vienna lagers are Märzens and neither are all Märzens Vienna lagers.)

I always ask myself these questions:

1. Who wrote the text?
2. Where did they get their information from?
3. Was the author an expert?
   
4. What was the intended audience for the text?
5. Where was the text published?
6. When was the text published?

In arguments (I have plenty of those) it's often clear that my opponent lacks the ability to gauge the relative value of different sources. The dodgy material they use to back up their points are mostly modern and English-language, homebrewing books and the like. Most amusing was the use of the Wyeast catalogue as a reference on German beer. I prefer technical manuals. Though you have to be careful with those, too.

The lack of academic rigour in the beer world can be disheartening. What am I saying, "can be". It is disheartening.

Private sources. I have a couple of those. Archive stuff. There's a project with them I've partly finished. Combining the information from the Truman and Whitbread Gravity Books. They give the OG of British beers for the period 1926-1966. There are literally thousands of entries, from dozens of breweries. It will be an invaluable resource for researching the development of British beer in the 20th century. I'll also include details from the brewing logs of Whitbread, Barclay Perkins and Truman. Then it will span 1815 - 1966. Pretty handy, eh?

Crazy, generous fool that I am, I'm considering making the finished spreadsheet available on the web. Good idea? Or just shouting in a deaf school?

There's something that could make my super OG table even more supertastic. The OG's of beers for that last 25 years, taken from the Good Beer Guide. Does anyone have this in electronic form. Copying it all would take a long time. As a card-carrying member of the Sloth Club, I'd rather not do it if I don't have to.

Perhaps there are some public-spirited souls out there? Who am I kidding? But should there be, what about this: transcribe the OG's from one year of the Good Beer Guide. Just pick one year (my advice would be to go for the early 1980's when there were fewer breweries) and copy the details into a spreadsheet.

Here's an example of both my table and what you could fill in from the Good Beer Guide. Call be an optimist.

Courage Mild, PA and Burton 1939 - 1966

Time to continue with another of the large, not-originally-Porter breweries of London. Courage, in this case. Though it hasn't brewed for a couple of decades the Courage brewery, well most of it, is still standing. It's on the south bank of the Thames right next to Tower Bridge.

You probably asking yourself "Why does he keep publishing this stuff? Who's interested?" If just one person finds this useful or intriguing, then it's worth it. That's what I reckon. If I don't publish it, who will?

Courage is a good example because, in addition to Bitter and Mild, I have a few analyses of Burton.


Courage PA was a pretty decent strength - over 1050 - at the start of WW II. Though the gravity was whittled away a bit during hostilities, it was still a very respectable 1044 in 1945. One phenomenon is particularly apparent with Courage - the big gap in gravity between Bitter and Mild in the 1940's. At the beginning of the decade Courage Bitter was 1051.4 and Mild just 1033.5. That's a gap of around 18 points. Put another way, the gravity of Bitter was 54% higher than Mild. By 1945 the gap had closed a little, but not much. Bitter's gravity then was still 47% higher.

But in the 1950's that differential was much smaller. In 1950 Mild was 1032.4 and Bitter 1035.1. That's much more like the relationship I remember from the 1970's and 1980's. What has happened? Whereas in WW I Mild bore the brunt of gravity reductions, in WW II and the postwar austerity years it was the turn of Bitter. Though, to be honest, with a gravity already in the low 1030's, there was little room for a further large reduction in Mild gravities.

In 1939 Mild had a gravity of around 1036. Postwar it was around 1033. Not much change there. In fact, not much change right up until the present. It's a different story with Bitter. Before the war that had a gravity of 1048-1050. By the 1950's it was 1036-1038, a reduction of around 25%.

For the sake of completeness, here's an accompanying table of the price per pint in a public bar over the same period:


The difference in price remained pretty steady at 3d to 4d per pint. The cost of Mild nearly tripled (6d to 15d) while Bitter merely doubled in price (9d to 18d).

It's interesting to note that Burton seemed to dodge the trend and retained a relatively high gravity into the 1950's. This was reflected in the price which was 2d to 4d more per pint than Bitter.

So which beer was best value for money? Well, it varied. The following table shows how many gravity points you got for an old penny:


For most of the war, Bitter was better value. Postwar, Mild was better. Fascinating, isn't it?

The source of all information is, again, the Whitbread Gravity Book.

Charrington's Mild and Bitter 1939 - 1969

It's time to take a closer look at one of the other great London breweries, Charrington's. A rather different beast to the Porter brewers I've concentrated on until now.

Established on the Mile End Road in the East End of London in the middle of the 18th century, Charrington's was principally an Ale brewer. They experienced a rapid growth in the second half of the 19th century when public taste shifted away from Porter. Theirs was reckoned to be the best Mild Ale brewed in London.

Charrington's merged with Bass in 1967 to form Bass Charrington. The brewery closed in 1975 and only the office (and the front right corner of the photo) and front enclosing wall are still standing. When I first lived in London, although the brewery had disappeared, Charrington's IPA (brewed elsewhere in the Bass empire) was still one of the commonest draught beers. I suppose revisionists wouldn't class it as a "real IPA" as it was in the London style. Consulting my 1983 Good Beer Guide, I see that at that time it was brewed at M & B Springfield in Wolverhampton and had an OG of 1039.

First is a graph showing the gravity of Charrington Mild, PA (Bitter) and Best PA (Best Bitter) from the outbreak of WW II until the 1960's. You'll notice that the curve for Mild is shallower than for the Bitter. Also that the two are slightly out of sync.



The second graph shows the price per pint in a public bar. During the course of WW II the cost of a pint of Mild more than doubled, rising from 5d in 1939 to 11d in 1945. Still, not as bad as WW I.

The source of this information is, as usual, the Whitbread Gravity Book.

Austro-Hungarian beer production 1887-1893

Yesterday was very exciting. The postman delivered more books. You can never have enough books. I'm not sure Dolores agrees.

Three books came. One is a particular favourite of mine: "Zeitschrift für das gesammte Brauwesen". The 1889 edition. It never disappoints. Just quickly flicking through I found half a dozen tables of enthralling statistics. Stuff very relevant to one of my summer themes: Lager.

That's no coincidence, of course. I deliberately ordered the book because I knew it would be packed with bottom-fermenting delights. It's a wonderfully information-rich source for a period (the end of the 19th century) when central European brewing techniques were starting to conquer the world.

I've always had a fascination for the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Probably connected with the way in which one of the largest countries in Europe disappeared overnight at the end of WW I. Or how its legacy refuses to disappear.

Judging by the wonderfully detailed figures, the Austro-Hungarian beer taxation system must have been based on gravity. Lucky for me. And you. It means we can see exactly how much of each strength of beer was brewed. You think that's dull? Then I think you're reading the wrong blog. Try Stonch's. He has more populist stuff about strippers and Hollyoaks.

So just us serious saddoes left. I won't count how many of us there are. Let's just say we won't need to rent a bus.


The vast majority - 95% - of beer produced was in the range 10-13º Balling (1040 - 1052). Over 50% was 10º Balling. What does that tell us? That not much has changed in the strength of beer brewed in the Czech Republic over the last 120 years. The situation today is remarkably similar. It might surprise some that the classic gravity of 12º is so poorly represented.

Here are the raw numbers. This is for the hardcore only.


While this is typical for central Europe, a similar table for Britain would look very different. In the 19th century, little British-brewed beer had a gravity below 1052 (13º Balling). A Pale Ale of the period would have been 1060-1065 (16º Balling). In 1900, the average gravity of all beer brewed in Britain was almost 14º Balling, a hefty 3º Balling higher than in Austria-Hungary.

The original figures are broken down by province. Which is why I can now focus in on two specific parts of the Austro-hungarian Empire: Bohemia and Moravia (the Czech Lands or the modern Czech Republic) and modern Austria. The latter is only an approximation, as part of Tirol is now in Italy.


The preponderance of 10º is even greater in the Czech lands - 72%. The tiny amount of 12º brewed is a surprise. Remember Pilsen is in Bohemia and 12º is the classic Pilsener gravity. As you can see from the table below, the situation is still quite similar today.

Beer production by beer type
beer type	2004	2005
výcepní (10º)	61.3%	59.8%
ležák (11-12º)	34.4%	35.8%
specialní (13º +)		1.05%
non-alcoholic beer	1.1%	1.25%
Source: Český svaz pivovarů a sladoven

The distribution by gravity is quite different for Austria:


Here almost as much 12º and 13º was brewed as 10º. There's also considerable variation between the different Austrian provinces. In Steiermark almost two thirds of production was 13º or higher. In Niederösterreich (which included Vienna) little other than 10º and 14º was brewed.

How does that compare to modern Austrian beer production. Well let's have a look:


There's been a dramatic shift towards the middle. Whereas in 1888 the most popular gravity was below 11º, today 85% of beer is between 11º or 12º.

Ten Amsterdam pubs to visit this summer

Here's a list of Amsterdam's essential pubs. According to me, at least. Places you shouldn't miss if you're in the city this summer.

Wildeman
One of the world's top beer pubs. And they have loads of quality German lagers, perfect for cooling you down on a hot day. There's a no-smoking room, too, but that won't matter after July 1st, when smoking will be banned in Dutch pubs. Will that affect my sitting habits?


Arendsnest
The world of Dutch beer at your fingertips. The canalside tables are very pleasant at this time of year. Perhaps an ice-cold jenever might go down nicely, too. When the smoking ban arrives, drinking inside may bceome a possibility, too.





Blijburg
Hang out with the hippies at Amsterdam's coolest beach. If the weather's good, you could almost be in Negril. Get there this year, because the kill-joy council plan closing it forever at the end of the summer. Just love that driftwood bar with the Buddha head. Shame about the dogs, though.




Scharrebier
Another pub with a relaxing canalside terrace. Handy for NeMo, too. I would have also included a mention of the Scheepvartsmuseum, but that's currently undergoing renovation (like many myuseums in the city). A recent cheerful correspondent told me my Amsterdam pub guide was a bunch of tourist hellholes, with the exception of Scharrebier and Druif. See if you agree.


Haven van Texel
A full range of microbrewery Texelse beers and a terrace with some of the best views in town. When the sun goes down or it gets chilly, it's just a few steps to Olofspoort. Shit, that's eleven pubs now. Can't be arsed to change the title, mind.




Wijnand Fockink
The garden has reopened! This unique outdoor space is a real summer treat. Don't miss it. The perfect place for pickling yourself in jenever. Ever wonder what's around the back of the 17th century houses in the centre of Amsterdam? This is your chance to find out.



Wildschut
Located on Amsterdam's most beautiful square. Wonder at Boterenbrood's wilful asymmetricity. Wonder at the Rutger's curving brick balconies. The Van Gogh and Rijksmuseum are close by, too. There's plenty of space indoors and out in this substantial 1930's pub. The art deco interior matches the Amsterdamse School exterior perfectly.


Dopey's Elixir
Nothing particularly summery about Dopey's. I just thought it deserved a mention. And you wanted an excuse to visit De Pijp, didn't you? No? Well, you should do. It's full of all the ethnic and trendy stuff I imagine my readers going for. Don't know why. Imagine you like that sort of thing. You're probably a bunch of fat old blokes like me.



Brouwerj Het Ij
On a warm summer afternoon, nothing's more soothing than hiding inside Het Ij while everyone else mobs the beer garden. Dirt cheap, too. See if you can spot the join where the bar was recently extended.




Alverna
One of the few places in Amsterdam West where you can enjoy a beer outside and not be crammed on the pavement next to a main road. They have a few decent beers to make the experience extra special.




(This has been a post in the series "Get More Hits for my Website" and "Keep Mike Happy".)

Decoction mashing in the DDR

I own a few East German brewing manuals. They were some of the first technical books I obtained. My mother-in-law got them from some of her many contacts back in the days when the DDR was still a country. Until now, I'd not paid much attention to the sections on decoction mashing.

Wolfgang Kunze's "Technologie für Brauer und Mälzer" is a wonderful book. It describes in minute detail how to run a VEB brewery. He's pretty good on the technical stuff. Which explains why a later version of this book, produced after reunification, is still a standard text.

This information comes from pages 198 and 199 of the 1961 edition.

It's always the Dickmaische which is boiled. The Dunnmaische or Lautermaische is very enzyme rich as the enzymes are soluble.

The amount of the mash to be boiled (Kochmaische) is one third and two thirds of the total. [There then follows a series of formulae for calculating the exact amount]

hl Kochmaische = (desired rise in temperature * hl total mash)/(90 - Restmaische hl)

Restmaische = total mash - Kochmaische

Example: you've got 130 hl of mash at 50º C that needs to be heated to 64º C

hl Kochmaische = (14 * 130)/40 = 45.5 hl


The time the mash should be boiled varied, depending on the type of beer:

pale beer - 10-20 minutes
dark beer - 20-30 minutes
adjunct mashing - 30 - 40 minutes

The Kochmaische should be pumped into the Restmaische (and not the other way around) so that the temperature of the Restmaische rises slowly and the enzymes aren't destroyed.

Triple decoction
This is the oldest method of decoction.

einmaischen 35º C
1st Kochmaische 50º C
2nd Kochmaische 65º C
3rd Kochmaische 72-74º C

Triple decoction is very intensive, time-consuming and requires much more energy than double or single decoction. The gains are very small in comparison to the extra effort and consequently is no longer much practised.


Double decoction

einmaischen 50º C
1st Kochmaische 65º C
2nd Kochmaische 72-74º C

You may have noticed that the triple decoction is very similar to the Munich method I told you about earlier. Don't worry about all the entries for this series looking very similar. The Augsburg method is very different. That makes use of Saz. Never heard of Saz? Don't worry. Neither had I before yesterday.

Self-censorship

One of the most effective methods of censorship is to scare writers into avoiding topics you don't want discussed. Not just oppressive governments employ the tactic. It's a favourite of religions and large corporations, too.

This particular form of bullying stifles debate, which is, of course, the idea. There are plenty of organisations that don't want an open discussion of their beliefs, their finances, their actions or their secrets.

Why am I bringing this up in a beer blog? Something happened this week that made me realise I've been bullied into abandoning a full expression of my views. And it's rather disheartening.

I'd wondered why my post "Is Kölsch an Ale?" had suddenly received a couple more comments. They immediately struck me as a little strange, especially as it was apparent that at least one of those commenting hadn't read the related posts. He wouldn't have put in all that technical stuff if he had.

A link to "Is Kölsch an Ale?" had been placed in RBPMail. Someone had then copied my article and posted it as a new thread on BeerAdvocate. Slightly annoying, because there was no reference to me or this blog. (On my request, the inital post quoting the whole article has been replaced by a link to my blog post.)

I'll be honest with you. I haven't read through the whole thread. Depressingly - since my article tried to explain my rationale behind not referring to Kölsch as an Ale - the conversation followed very similar lines to the one on RateBeer. Basically that top-fermenting yeast = Ale yeast, ergo Kölsch is an Ale. Either that or abuse.

The discussion (if you can call it that) was disheartening enough first time around. I can live without a repeat. Head and brick wall situation. Last time it did feel really good when I stopped, but that isn't enough to get me banging again.

It's no wonder that conversations on beer forums are limited to "Watcha drinkin'?", "what's your favorite barrel-aged German Quadrupel?" or "Is XXXXX over-/underrated?". Anyone trying to make a serious point that doesn't agree with current homebrewing orthodoxy is likely to be greeted with a stream of hatred and abuse. At least, that's why I don't bother any more. You need either a very thick skin or to conform. A bit sad, really.

Am I the only one who's been driven away? Maybe I'm just a sensitive soul. Is it inevitable that a small clique of verbal bullies will come to dominate any forum?

In avoiding discussion I'm censoring myself. And, in doing so, helping to reinforce ideas which I beleive to be false by not challenging them. It's a sobering thought.

Salvator

The Summer of Hate, sorry, Summer of Lager continues with a look at Salvator. One of the most famous beeers of the 19th century. Today, it's a trademark of Paulaner, but back then it was used as a generic term for all Doppelbocks.

Because of its fame, I've plenty of hard evidence about Salvator. I collect numbers. I can't help it. Occasionally, like now, it does come in handy. If I weren't such a saddo, I wouldn't all the fascinating figures with which I'm about to regale you. So don't mock me.


The first data I have comes from the 1850's. The beer was brewed by Zacherl, the forerunner of Paulaner, so it's the real deal. It has a massive OG of 23.5º Balling (approx. 1095), but a relatively puny alcohol content of just over 6% ABV. Let's be honest, the attenuation is crap. Less than 50% apparent. With an FG higher than the OG of most beers today, it must have been pretty thick and sweet. No wonder they used it as a meal substitute.

The 1858 version (not sure if it's from Paulaner or another Munich brewery) has a substantially lower gravity (19.8º Balling, or around 1080) , but almost as high an ABV (5.74%). As a consequence, the apparent attenuation has increased from a pathetic 46% to a still unimpressive 53%.

By 1870, the gravity has dropped further, to 18.5º Balling (approx 1074), but the ABV has remained about the same (5.64%). Apparent attenuation has again increased and is 56%.

Unfortunately for me, I have no idea which breweries the 1930's samples come from. However, the first in the list looks rather like a Doppelbock to me. Assuming that it is, we can see a further slight reduction in the OG (17.99º Balling, approx 1072), but a similar ABV (5.8%). Consequently, apparent attenuation is up to 60%.

Finally we see the present incarnation of Salvator. This has a much higher alcohol contente - 7.5% ABV - than any of the older versions. Which has a big impact on the apparent attenuation, which is now a respectable 75%.

So how does modern Salvator compare with the 19th century versions? It has a 22% lower OG, but a 25% higher ABV. The difference in body is enormous. The FG in the 1850's was more than double what it is now. To sum up, modern Salvator is less full-bodied, less sweet and sticky, but more alcoholic.

Another difference is the colour. Though I don't have enough numbers to do a precise analysis, I know from personal observation that Salvator has become paler over the last 15 years. And generally pretty crap, but that's a subjective opinion.

I suppose I should try and dig out an old description of Salvator brewing. My guess would be that the 19th-century method was a triple decoction Dickmeisch. If you've been paying attention you should know all about that. Don't tell me you've forgotten already? Really.


(Published as part of my one-interesting-to-one-boring_post initiative.)

Football beer

There seems to be a football tournament of some kind occurring in Europe. Not quite sure where, but there are always mountains in the background. I guess that rules out Holland.

Sometimes it's soothing to stick to sterotypical male behaviour. Like football and drinking beer. The two go together extremely well. Unless you're actually trying to play the game, in which case it's annoying to have to keep going to the dressing room for a wee.

As England managed to avoid qualification, watching the tournament is less stressful than in previous years. Consequently, I have less need of beer to get me through to the final whistle thrombie-free. The throbbling effect of constant tension gives me a hell of a thirst when England's best are cocking things up again on the pitch. So I usually plump for something fairly weak. My usual tipples - all strong Belgians - would have me lying in a pool of my own fluids before half time.

A tension-free tournament is something else. With England out of the picture, I'm not reflex slurping all through the games. I'm able to drink consciously and with pleasure. So which beers are best suited?


Early games (18:00)
I only get home shortly before these games kick off. In such pre-prandial circumstances, my beer of choice has to be St. Bernardus Abt. Served in a Chimay glass, of course. It just doesn't taste right any other way. It's the perfect way to unwind after a busy day. It works for my type of days, too.


Games of the Dutch team
I'll admit that not all games are tension-free for me. When Holland play, I do get the odd twitch of steel band across the chest. Alcohol is what you need to stop your pulse dancing to a drum 'n bass beat. The perfect delivery system is St. Bernardus Abt. Served in a Chimay glass.


Late games (21:00)
Just when I'm starting to wind down and prepare for bed. Too much fluid at this point, and I'll be in and out of the bathroom all night. So a beer without too much water. Just about perfect is St. Bernardus Abt. Served in a Chimay glass.


Quarter-finals
Things start to get interesting in this phase. But there's the possibility of extra time and penalties. A game could last as much as two and a half hours. This is when something less strong is needed. My recommendation is St. Bernardus Prior. Served in a Chimay glass.


Semi-finals
It's serious agogo time. No-one likes to fall at the final hurdle before the final. But there's a long build up to the games. You want to be able to focus for the second half, so easy does it before kickoff. My choice is St. Bernardus Pater. Served in a Chimay glass. Moving on to St. Bernardus Prior after half time. Served in a Chimay glass. Extra time or post-match analysis should be accompanied by St. Bernardus Abt. Served in a straight pint glass. Only joking. In a Chimay glass.


The final
This will be a long day. For the first 3 hours of the pre-match build up, St. Bernardus Pater is your man. Served in a Chimay glass. Pop a bottle of St. Bernardus Prior at kickoff. If the Dutch are playing, you'll also need a bottle of jenever. Korenwijn at least. Rutte 12 or Villiers 8 are best. Every time the Dutch have a shot on goal, drink a shot. If they score, pour yourself a double.

At half time, clean your Chimay glass thoroughly. Have a full (Chimay) glass of St. Bernardus Abt ready for the start of the second half. If the Dutch are in the lead, have a jenever to keep it company. Should the Dutch be winning at full time, at least you won't be able to see it. If it goes to penalties (and you're still conscious) knock back a jenever every time the Dutch score or their opponents miss.

What's your favourite football beer?


* 1914 SSS is a good substitute for Abt and Prior.
** 1914 Porter is a good substitute for Pater.

Aristocratic

In the course of a recent pointless argument on an internet forum, I was criticised for the "aristocratic tone" of my posts. Little did my taunter realise how close he was to the truth.

Blue blood does indeed flow through my veins. Very ancient blue blood. An ancestor of my mother's was one of William the Conqueror's gang and, as a reward for all that killing and oppressing, was given a title and a large estate in the Midlands.

The Earls de Chandelent were a force throughout the Middle Ages, but by the early 20th century only the rump of the estate - a few farms and a village - remained in the family's hands. Still, there was enough money left to provide me with a reasonable private education, albeit not at Eton, as was family tradition.

I don't usually like to talk about my background as it tends to evoke envy and hatred amongst the plebs. You lot won't turn nasty on me, will you, just because I'm a bit of a toff?

I'll see if I can dig out an image of the family coat of arms for you to admire.

What's this got to do with beer? Well, there's a disused brewery at the family seat. It looks just like a stable or storehouse, but I've been assured that they brewed there until sometime in the middle of the 1800's. See if you can spot which it is in "Country House Brewing in England 1500 - 1900" by Pamela Sambrook, 1996 (ISBN 1 85285 127 9).

Gravity Tables - Lager

I was surprised to discover at least one fan of my tables of beer gravities. I don't know why I was so shocked. I could stare at them for hours. Quite often, I do.

Just a small one this time. German Bocks from the early 1950's. These are probably some of the first strong beers brewed in Germany after WW II. What can I say. The attenuation is higher than in 19th century Doppelbocks.


Hang on. I said this was going to be the Summer of Lager, didn't I? You deserve more than one table. And it's a while since I did any. How about far more tables than you'll be able to absorb in one sitting? Sounds perfect.

Here's some German Pilsners.




1950's Lager

Let's take a look at Lager in various European countries in the 1950's. That should be fun, shouldn't it? At least until I swamp you with numbers.


Belgium
As I can't be bothered to think of a clever way of organiosing them, let's look at the different countries alphbatically. We start with Belgium.


They're all Pilsners, you may have noticed. Nothing particularly unusual about them, either. Except that the Stella Artois bought in Belgium is stronger than the others. The weaker ones may have been bought in Britian, which would explain them being weaker.


Czechoslovakia
Beer from just one Czech brewery, Pilsner Urquell. Only one of them appears to be the classic 12º Ležák. That looks the same as it always does in analyses, from the 19th century up until the present. Though it would be interesting to compare the colour with the modern version.



Denmark
Just beers from Denmark's Big Two, Carlsberg and Tuborg, when they were still separate companies (and still each had a brewery).


From the feeble gravities of just over 1030 of many of the examples, it's clear that both were already brewing versions especially for the UK.


Holland
Again beers from the countries largest brewers - Amstel, Heineken, Oranjeboom and ZHB.


All are under 1040 and presumably brewed for the UK market. In the 1950's Heineken brewed three versions of its Pils: one for the Dutch market, one for the USA and one for the UK. Only the UK Pils was piss-weak.


Norway and Sweden
I was shocked to see three Norwegian breweries represented. But only one Swedish. Can't have everything, I suppose.


Given their strengths, I doubt any of these were intended for the UK market. Note that the Swedish beer is just a shade under the 5.6% ABV maximum which was at that time in force in Sweden.

Munich method of decoction

I'm feeling revitalised. So much so that I've had the energy and drive to read brewing manuals rather than the football reports on the tram and bus today. Lucky you. It means I've already a second installment to my summer decoction series.

Today it's the turn of the Munich method. Again, taken from "Handbuch der Chemischen Technologie: Die Bierbrauerei" by Dr. Fr. Jul. Otto, published in 1865, pages 120 to 122.

For 100 pounds of malt, 800 pounds of water are used. [Not sure what sort of pounds. I would assume around 1 pound = 0.5 kg.]

Half to two-thirds of the water is cold and used to Einteigen. The rest is brought to the boil in the kettle. After Einteigen, the mash is left to rest for 3 or 4 hours. If warm water is used for Einteigen, the mash should not be left to rest.

When the water has boiled it is added to the mash. The temperature should rise to 30-37.5º C.

When this temperature has been reached, about a third of the thinner part of the mash is transferred to the kettle and boiled for 30 minutes. (Boiling the first Dickmeisch.)

The Dickmeisch is returned to the mash tun and mashed for 15 minutes, so that the thinner and thicker parts completely separate. The temperature should now be 45-50º C.

As soon as this is finished a third of the mash, again the thicker part, is transferred to the kettle and boiled for 30 minutes. (Second Dickmeisch.)

The second Dickmeisch is returned to the mash tun and mashed. The temperature should now be 60-62.5º C.

Now a portion of the thin mash is transferred to the kettle (enough to raise the temperature of the mash to 75º C when returned to the mash tun) and boiled for 15 minutes. (Lautermeisch.)

The Lautermeisch is returned to the mash tun and there's another round of mashing. The temperature should now be 75º C. The mash is left to rest for 90 minutes.

After the wort has been drawn off, more water is brought to the boil (30 - 60 pounds for 100 pounds of grain) and poured over the grains. The resulting wort is either added to the main wort or used to make Nachbier (Small Beer), which in Munich is called Scheps.

I think there's a mistake in the text I've quoted. For the first decoction it says "use the thin mash", but then for the second it says "use the thick mash again". For the last it says "this time use the thin mash". I suspect the first decoction should be of the thick mash.

Which method should I do next? Bamberg 1819 or Augsburg 1860's? Let's just see how the fancy takes me.

The Summer of Lager

Lager lovers lick your lips. 2008 is officially The Summer of Lager. In my head. And that's all that counts.

The first focus falls on decoction mashing. Who hasn't lain awake at night wondering what the temperature of the mash should be after the second Dickmaisch is returned to the tun? I know I have. I'm not that out of step with humanity that I'm the only one, am I?

Misunderstood lager styles. That'll be all of them, then. Märzen, Export, Kellerbier and Dunkles. There's plenty of scope for me to do some metaphorical shouting about those ones. Especially Märzen.

Lager evolution. How lagers have changed over the last 150 years. Salvator (Doppelbock) is a good one. Not even the name has remained the same.

My new Big Idea is to have more posts announcing posts than actual posts. It's going well so far this week. Watch out for my next announcement about more announcements.