Barclay Perkins and WW II

It's been too long since I last dedicated myself to the inspiration for this blog: Barclay Perkins. Time to put that right.

I photographed Barclay Perkins' wartime brewing logs 18 months ago (14.03.2007 to be precise). Until now, I'd barely even looked at them. I haven't paid much attention to WW II at all so far.

Breweries are a conservative bunch. Their recipes don't usually change much from one year to the next. Wartime is an exception. Shortages and government interference forced breweries to modify their recipes sometimes as often as every week or two. 1917 to 1919 was one such period. 1942 to 1943 is another.

Simplicty. That's another feature of older brewery recipes. Porter and Stout aside, they rarely include more than a couple of types of malt. Simplicity also went out of the window in wartime.

The war started promisingly. Ok, they cut gravities a year or so in, but in 1941 they drastically reduced the adjuncts in their grists by dropping gflaked rice and reducing sugar to less than 5%.

Oh, and dozy twat that I am, I've only just noticed that the Barclay Perkins logs specify the varity of hop used. I'd noticed "F's" and "G's", but I only twigged today what they stand for: Fuggle's and Goldings, of course. I really am thick sometimes.

Here's what happened to Barclay Perkins X Ale in the first half of the war:


As you can see, they vary a fair bit. The percentage of sugar (including caramel) went from 11% to 19% to 6% to 8%. In 1939, just as in the interwar period, the only other adjunct was maize. In 1940 this was replaced with rice. In 1941, there was neither rice nor maize. Both flaked and torerefied barley were introduced in 1942.

What else changed? The gravity went from 1034.77 to 1031.84 to 1031.32 to 1027.50. The hopping rate dropped from 7 pounds per quarter of malt to 5. It must have been confusing for drinkers, wondering what their Mild was going to taste like this week.

My first impression when looking at the 1942 grist was that they were using up what was left in their cupboard. What on earth is lager malt doing in Mild? Very unusually, there's no 6-row malt. Maybe they couldn't get hold of any. But there are two different types of amber malt to make up.

X isn't even the craziest recipe. Take a look at these two:


Malted rye in KK? That's weird. KK was Barclay Perkins Burton. I've never seen malted oats in any other version of their BS Stout, which they'd been brewing for at least 150 years. And how come they were suddenly putting lactose in what wasn't a Sweet Stout? As you can see, both had some lager malt in them, too.

Grists 1920-1939

You may have noticed that my reading material this week is "Brewing Science & Practice" H. Lloyd Hind, published in 1940. It's a wonderful book. I'm learning so much. If you're paying attention, you should be, too. Learning lots, I mean.

One of the things I'm most interested in doing in the course of my research is comparing theory with practice. Seeing how well what the brewing manuals say matches with what's in the brewing records. In some periods there's considerable divergence. Not so with Hind and the 1930's. Most of what he says I can find real practical examples of.

"Brewing Science & Practice" is a detailed work. Very detailed, in fact. Today I'm sharing some of those details with you. To be specific, the details about the grists for different types of beer.



Grists
Different types of beer required different malts. "Pale ales have to comply with higher standards of brilliance and stability than mild ales, while they lack certain constituents of dark beers that hinder the formation of protein haze, and contains a greater proportion of the hop tannins which participate in its production." Which meant Pale Ales had to be made from malt of the best quality, whereas brewers could get away with lesser malt in Mild. No surprise there.

To maintain a constant colour and flavour, a blend of pale malts was usually used in Pale Ale grists. Part of the blend was malt made from six-rowed barley, either Californian or Smyrna (Syrian). At one time up to 50% six-rowed had been used, but by the 1030's 20% was usually the maximum. Sugar and flaked rice or maize helped to prevent a protein haze, especially in filtered beers. Pale invert sugars, such as No. 1 or No. 2 were suitable. Adjuncts could make up 10-25% of the total extract.

These are the example Pale Ale grists given by Hind:


Malts for Mild and dark Ales were of slightly lower quality, did not need to be so well-modified and were slightly darker in colour than those used for Pale Ales. Crystal malt and amber malt were used for flavour. A greater proportion of sugar could be used than for Pale Ales, usualy in the form of a dark invert sugar such as No.3 or a proprietary mixed sugar containing caramel.


There were different types of Porter and Stout which all had their own distinct grists. Some Stouts used just malt and perhaps roasted barley, others, like Mild, has a percentage of sugar and maize. The majority of the grist was pale malt that was not too highly modified, usually a mix of English 2-row and foreign 6-row. No. 3 invert sugar and proprietary dark mixed sugars were added in the copper. Milk Stouts also contained unfermentable lactose which was added as primings.


That's the theory from Hind. How does it compare with reality? It just so happens that some of tghe Whitbread brewing records give the yield of each particular malt. That means I can put together similar tables to Hind's.


It's certainly true that the Milds (XX,X A) and the Stouts (P, CS, COS) used lower quality pale malt than the PA. There's a mix of foreign 6-row and English 2-row pale malt in all the grists, too. But when it comes to sugar, Whitbread's grists diverge significantly from Hind's. Rather than the Mild and Stout, it's the Pale Ale that had the greater proportion of sugar. As for brown malt in Mild, I've only seen that in low-gravity WW I Government Ale.

Busy, busy busy

I have a life outside boring the paint from your walls with endless tables and statistics. I do. I really do.

Take last week for example. I had two internet dates. I often arrange to meet people I've had contact with over the internet. "Who are you meeting today Ronald?" "Someone called Si Kopath. He's suggested we rendezvous in a dark alleyway." "Maybe it's someone from the bjcp," Andrew reassured me, "with a baseball bat."

I usually avoid spending weekday evenings down the pub. Being knackered at work isn't my idea of fun. But I made an arrangement for Tuesday evening. With a couple from Blackpool. It sounded pretty safe. Just in case things did turn ugly, I took Mike along.

Our appointment was in Westers, a beeryish pub just outside the centre. I drink there maybe half a dozen times a year. It has a couple of interesting draught beers and a few more bottles worth the effort. The weather was foul. It couldn't decide if it wanted to rain or snow and was doing both. John (the bloke I was meeting) had already got me a Maredsous 10 in. Sorry, Maredsous Tripel. (I can't get used to the new name. I'd always thought of it as more of a Quadrupel than a Tripel.) He must have read my mind.

Mike was late, as usual. I could already have been dismembered and lying neatly packed in a suitcase at the bottom of the canal by the time he turned up. I introduced him as my dad to John and Janet. For some reason, they didn't seem to totally believe me. Mike described us as Laurel and Hardy. Don't ask which of us is which.

When the blizzard had picked up enough, we decided to move on. To Proef. It's only just around the corner. Most pubs in Amsterdam open 7 days a week. Not Proef, as I found out. That closes on Tuesday. Great. I don't think well with snow swirling around me. Where to go instead? I have a couple of other pubs in my guide which are, like Proef, on the Overtoom. Further down. Much further down. My mind, much like the air around me, was filled with dancing white spots.

"What about Ebeling?" Mike suggested. Good idea. Just 100 metres away. Though I had considered dropping it from my guide on account of the eye-watering prices. Only the gents bogs* had saved it from the chop. Of course, it was my round.

The barmaid was very friendly. I thought she was trying to be even more friendly by replying to me in English. It turned out she just didn't speak Dutch. I hoped she was new. Because she hadn't quite perfectly mastered the job. She brought us tiny pils glasses for our Westmalle. After three attempts, we got glasses big enough.

Next round I asked if they had korenwijn. That caused a good deal of confusion. I tried to explain what it was and what the bottle looked like, without much success. Her Dutch male colleague was just as confused. What do they teach them in school here? I'm pretty sure they don't stock it. But not 100%.

After a couple more Westmalle Dubbels, I took the tram home.


*Ebeling used to be a bank and the gents are housed in the former vault.

I'm not trying to be arty with the photos. I just don't have any decent ones to hand of the pubs covered.


Café Westers
Eerste Constantijn Huygensstraat 35,
1054 CT Amsterdam.
Tel. 020-612 1691


Café Ebeling
Overtoom 50
1054 HK Amsterdam.
Tel. 020-689 1218
Homepage: http://www.cafeebeling.com


Proef eten & drinken
Overtoom 160-162,
1054 HP Amsterdam.
Tel: 020-6129444
http://www.proefeten-drinken.nl

Sugar 1920 - 1939 (part two)

More on sugar, courtesy of "Brewing Science & Practice" H. Lloyd Hind, published in 1943. It's a wonderful source on many aspects of brewing, but especially on materials. I'm sure I'm going to have to do some editing of my brewing materials section of the 1920-1939 chapter. Way too long, I fear. But at least writing it has helped my education.

Today it's the turn of the less fashionable and not so easily defined sugars. And caramel. A laugh a minute, it is. If you find hydrolosis amusing.



Starch sugars
These were made by the hydrolytic action of acids, such as dilute sulphuric or hydrochloric acid, on starch. The source of the starch was usually maize, but sometimes sago, tapioca or potato were used. The starch was first converted to maltose and then to glucose. (Source: "Brewing Science & Practice" H. Lloyd Hind, 1943, page 303.) If the conversion process was stopped as soon as all the starch had disappeared it produced a sugar called dextrin-maltose which only fermented partially and slowly.

The flavour of glucose was much more neutral than cane or invert sugar. It was most useful in drier beers, particularly lagers.

It was sold either as glucose syrup or glucose crystals. The extract was between 73 and 78 brewer's pounds per 224 pounds, depending on the water content.


Corn syrup, glucose syrup and dextrin-maltose were were types of starch sugars where hydrolosis was incomplete. Consequently, they contained varying proportions of maltose and dextrin. As they were less easily fermentable than other sugars, they were particularly suitable for primings that were intended to condition beer in the cask slowly.




Mixed sugars
Various combinations of cane sugar, glucose, invert sugar and corn syrup were sold as proprietary brands, sometimes with caramel added for colour. They were designed to have specific flavour characteristics and fermentability, depending on their intended use. Often they were used as sources of partially fermentable extract. They could be added either in the copper or as primings.

The colour varied from pale to extremely dark, according the degree of carmelisation. Extract wwas between 65 and 75 brewer's pounds per 224 pounds.

At the front and back of The Brewers' Almanack there were several pages of advertisements for these types of proprietary sugars. You can see one such to your left. Dopey git that I am, I've only just noticed that it's for Hay, one of the names that turns up in brewing logs. Whose was it, Whitbread or Barclay Perkins? Whitbread, I think.







Caramel
Caramel is made by heating sugar to around 220º C. Three slightly different compounds, with different degrees of solubility are present in caramel: caramelan, caramelen and caramelin. Either glucose or cane sugar were used to produce caramel. Depending on how the caramel was made it had varying degrees of colour and fermentability. In general, the darker the colour, the lower the fermentability.

The main use of caramel was for colouring, though it was also important for adding flavour. Caramel was often added to make colour adjustments to even pale beers to get the colour range specified for a beer. Barclay Perkins sometimes added caramel to all their beers for this purpose. They also used caramel to produce dark versions of their Milds, which were a deep amber colour as brewed. At the front of some of their brewing logs it's specified how much caramel needs to be added to raise the colour of a certain volume of beer by 1º Lovibond.

The colour of caramel was based on a 0.1% solution measured in a 1 inch cell and given in degrees Lovibond. "Caramel should not produce a precipitate in the course of 24 hours in bright beer coloured to resemble stout, neither should there be any loss of colour under these conditions in a week. Wort coloured in the same manner should show no loss during fermentation."

Sugar 1920 - 1939 (part one)

I've taken a break from brewing logs. For a while. I'm back to working my way through "Brewing Science & Practice" H. Lloyd Hind, published in 1943.

It's a very useful book when it comes to sugar. I'm finally starting to understand a little about the different types of sugar used in brewing. I'd never realised that there were so many. A surprisingly complex subject. So much so, that there's way too much for a single post.


Sugar
According to Hind, seven types of sugar were used in brewing:

1. Cane sugar, derived from sugar cane and sometimes sugar beet.
2. Invert sugars, made by inversion of sugar cane.
3. Starch sugars, including corn syrups and glucose, made from cereals, usually maize.
4. Mixtures of the above.
5. Caramels, made from cane sugar or glucose.
6. Lactose or milks sugar, only used in milk stout.
7. Honey, very rarely used.
(Source: "Brewing Science & Practice" H. Lloyd Hind, 1943, page 297.)


Cane sugar
Cane sugar could be produced from either sugar cane, sugar beet, sugar maple, certain palms or sorghum. The chemical composition of the sugar after purification, whatever the source, was identical: sucrose. Before refining the raw sugar from the different sources varied considerably. Some, like that, for example, from sugar beet, didn't taste that pleasant so it could only be used in refined form. Raw sugar cane had the best flavour, though this varied depending on where the canes had been grown and how they had been processed.

Refined sugar was very pure, but for brewing raw sugar, with its distinctive flavours, was preferred. The greater the proportion of substances other than sucrose, the more luscious and characterful the flavour was. West Indian and Brazilian sugar was particularly suitable for brewing on account of the fulness and sweetness it gave to beer.

Cane sugar was used in the copper and for priming, though many brewers preferred to use candy sugar for the latter. After addition to the cask, cane sugar was inverted by enzymes secreted by the yeast, invertase and sucrase, before being fermented.


Invert sugar
This was created by the hydrolosis of cane sugar, which was transformed into equal parts of glucose and fructose. Depending on the degree of purification, three grades of brewing sugar were made: No.1, No.2 and No.3. It was sold either as a syrup or in solid form. Invert sugar was used both in the copper and as primings. No.1 and No.2 were used in Pale Ale, No.2 and No.3 in Mild Ale and No.3 in Porter and Stout.

No.1 tended to be reserved for the better quality Pale Ales, such as PA, while No.2 was used in weaker Light Bitters and IPA. Every beer brewed by Barclay Perkins and Whitbread contained one of these three sugars. There were two main manufacturers, Garton and Martineau. The London brewers bought from both and used their products interchangeably. This type of invert sugar usually made up 10 to 15% of the grist.

Governement Ale 1917 - 1919

It's a great concept, isn't it, Government Ale. Sadly, the reality was more prosaic. It was just a watery version of Mild sold at a controlled price. Surprisingly, for something introduced as a wartime emergency, Government Ale lived on until the start of the next war.

This morning, for the first time in the nine and a quarter months I've been catching the sneltram at Amstelveenseweg, the escalator was working. Ascending effortlessly to the platform was such a thrill. Such a thrill that I walked back down the stairs and rode it again. Great timing. I start a new job January 1st.

My life is just one continuous white-knuckle ride. Most of my spare time this week has been spent doing incredibly dull things with brewing records. I won't bore you with the details just now. I'm saving that particular pleasure for further down this post.

Some of those Whitbread "beers" in WW I. Not even 1% alcohol. I wonder what the hell they called it? Then again, in the 1930's Barclay Perkins had a thing called Royal Ale that was a tweaked version of their 4d Ale and only 2.7%. In what way was it "royal", I wonder?

Before I forget. SSS should be on draught in Wildeman sometime next week. At least that's what the barman told me. Not cask, unfortunately. Still very nice, though, if it's like the last lot.

Today's Sinterklaas in Holland. The kids are so jammy here. They get two christmases. Two bloody christmases. Though Andrew and Lexie have it even better. We do the German one, too. December 24th. Weisswurst for me. We got some the other week in Cologne. One of my favourite things.

Now back to piss-weak, government-controlled Mild . . . .


Government Ale or 4d Ale
Emergency wartime legislation created a new style of beer: Government Ale. It was brewed within specified gravity bands (pretty low) and sold at a controlled price. The intention was to ensure more beer was brewed from the same quantity of raw materials and keep down the price to stop unrest amongst the working class. It doesn't seem to have quite worked out as planned, due to resistance from brewers and publicans.

Stylistically, it was like a lower-gravity X-Ale and was often party-gyled with it. When government restrictions on brewing were abolished, Government Ale didn't disappear. Most breweries continued to brew a beer of around 1030º, usually called just Ale. It finally vanished only when the gravity of X Ale dropped to around 1027-1030º at the end of WW II.

Oct. 1 1917: Prices fixed at 4d. per pint under 1036º, 5d. per pint under 1042º.
April 1 1918: Prices fixed at 4d. per pint below 1030º, and 5d. per pint for 1030º to 1034º.

Whitbread dropped their X Mild in 1917 and replaced it with a GA (Government Ale, I assume). They brewed versions in both the price bands, one at 1034º the other at 1042º. In 1918, these were replaced by MA, which came in three different versions: 1038º, 1023º and 1011º. Surprisingly, the strongest had a higher gravity in 1918 than PA, which was just 1036. Whitbread were only able to maintain a decent-strength Mild by brewing large quantities of MA at the weakest gavity, 1011º, something which could scarcely be described as beer. It was barely 1% ABV.





The biggest difference between the grist of GA/MA and X Ale was the use of dark malt. Most versions of MA contained 7 to 11% brown malt, though occasionally crystal malt was used instead. That's enough to make the beer taste significantly different from a beer brewed from just pale malt and dark sugar. Either they had more brown malt than they knew what to do with or they were trying to compensate for the fall in gravity. Barclay Perkins also used brown malt in their price-controlled Milds.

That's another nail in the coffin for the "Porter disappeared because they had no dark malts" theory. If dark malt were in such short supply, would they be using it in their cheapest beers? Whitbread used around 1 quarter of brown malt for every 100 barrels of MA. I make that around 5,000 quarters in 1918 and 1919. To put that number into perspective, in 1923 Whitbread needed around 40,000 quarters of brown malt for all the Porter and Stout they brewed. Remember that in 1918/1919, they were brewing quite large quantities of Porter and Stout as well as MA. They must have been using at least as much brown malt as in peacetime.

After the war, Whitbread continued to brew MA, though just a single version at 1027º. As late as 1947, they were still churning out something similar: XX at 1027.6º. Or maybe that 0.6º made all the difference.

Ale. 4d Ale. Light Ale. A Mild-like beer of 1027 to 1030º. Usually with some darker malts. Crystal, amber, brown. What style is that? Is it just watered-down Mild?

Mashing

alexei wants to play the crazy game with andrew and I am the crazy man.
play runescape.com.
done dear ronald pattinson.


Get away from the keyboard, Lexie. Dad wants to write his post. Yes, now. . . . . No links Lexie, OK? . . . . Dad really needs to write his post. . . . Lexie I don't need to know about homo sapiens . . not now . . I'm trying to write something coherent. . . ."leave some stickbread for dad" . . . yes, dad needs stickbread.


Buy book, buy book, no you don't need to.


That makes no sense, Andrew. See where democracy gets you? Nonsense.


On with the fun. Not that you'll be having much. It's terribly dry. Full of numbers and tables again. You'll have to wait until I've been to London for any light relief.

Get ready for dullness.

Just . . . . . . . now

It's very satisfying when theory and practice come together in perfect harmony. That happened today. The mashing section in "Brewing Science & Practice" by H. Lloyd Hind, published in 1940, agrees almost exactly with Whitbread's and Barclay Perkins brewing records.

Underlet mashing. What a fascinating topic. It seems to have been the standard method of mashing for at least the first half of the 20th century. In London. I shouldn't generalise. Still need to look at the records of some provincial breweries.


Mashing
With the exception of a few specialist lager brewhouses which decoction mashed, all British breweries used an infusion mash. This method was well-suited to British malt, which was well-modified and had a low nitrogen content. Worts from an infusion were generally higher in maltose and more attenuative than those from a decoction mash.

The mash tun was first heated to close to the mashing temperature by running in hot water until it just covered the false bottom. The grist and mashing water were run through the external masher and into the mash tun. The temperature of the mashing water - the striking heat - was usually 4º or 5º F higher than the intended initial heat. Once the grist and water were "all in" the tun, the rakes were switched on to make a couple of revolutions.

What happened next, depended on if the tun was fitted with an underlet. If it were not, the mash was left to stand for 2 to 2.5 hours before sparging. If there was an underlet, the following processes occurred:

1. mashing for 15 to 20 minutes
2. mash left to stand for 30 minutes
3. water added through underlet, sometimes with the sparge running
4. mash left to stand for 90 to 120 minutes
5. taps set and spage begun

This whole procedure took 6 to 6.5 hours. Some brewers underlet twice, letting the wort stand and sparging briefly between them.

Whitbread, Fullers and Barclay Perkins employed a method very similar to the one just described, making use of the underlet to heat the mash.

Below is an example from Whitbread, mashing 86 quarters of malt.




Water was added through the underlet twice and there were two sparges. Two worts were produced which were boiled separately.

This is an example from Barclay Perkins, where 108 quarters of malt were mashed:


Just like Whitbread, Barclay Perkins underlet and sparged twice.



Mashing temperatures and mash rates
The most important mashing temperature was the initial heat. Varying it by just a couple of degrees could have a big influence on the composition of the final wort. The ideal temperature depended on the type of beer being brewed and the malts being used. The mash rate, that is the number of barrels of water per quarter of malt being mashed, similarly varied according to the type of beer and the malts used.

Because of its lower diastatic power, mild ale malt was usually mashed at a lower temperature than pale ale malt. Grists containing large quantities of dark malts were mashed an an even lower temperature still. Beers where a high degree of attenuation was required had a lower initial mashing heat. Stock Ales, which reuired a large proportion of dextrin in the wort, were mashed at higher temperatures, even when the grist contained a great deal of dark malts.

When using an underlet, the initial temperature could be lower, which was especially useful with less well-modified malts. The underlet could then be used to raise the temperature higher than would normally be used as an initial heat. The production of maltose could be affected by the timing and temperature of underletting. The longer the mash stood before underletting, the greater the amount of maltose produced.

The table below gives typical mashing temperatures for various types of beers. These were not set in stone, but could vary depending on other factors such as the characteristics of the malt and the equipment in the brewery.


These are the Barclay Perkins mashing temperatures from the mid-1930's.


As Hind stated, Stock Ale (KK) and Pale Ale had the highest temperature, Mild (XX, X, A) a rather lower one and Stout (BS, OMS, TT) the lowest of all. Though the range spanned by the different beers is smaller than Hind suggested, with onlt 4º F between the warmest and coolest.


Sources:
"Brewing Science & Practice" H. Lloyd Hind, 1940,
Whitbread and Barclay Perkins brewing records..

Storage of hops 1920 - 1939

One of my questions has been answered today. What does "CS" mean in hop entries in brewing logs. It turns out my guess was right: Cold Store.

How much hops deteriorate over time is a topic that's intrigued me for quite a while. Ever since I first noticed hops more than a year old in brewing logs. It seems that, if stored correctly, hop deterioration isn't that dramatic over the first 18 months.




Storage of hops
Hops deteriorate over time, losing both bittering and preservative qualities. This meant it was essential to store them carefully. By keeping the hops at 32º Fahrenheit in a dry atmosphere, their deterioration could be slowed significantly. Most of a season's crop was in cold storage by December or January.

The table below shows the difference between hops kept in a cold store and those in an ordinary warehouse.


In practice, old hops had better preservative qualities than the anaylses would suggest.





Another way of preserving hops was to compress the hop pockets by means of an hydraulic press to a half or one third of their original size. The compressed pocket was then bound with iron straps. Compression alone worked as well as cold storage up to about 18 months. A combination of compression and cold storage produced the best results.

IPA 1914 - 1919

We're still knee-deep in mud, struggling to fit our gas masks. Yes, even more about WW I. I know, it seems as if I'm writing a book just about the Great War. Eventually, I'm sure I'll get to something else. You'll just have to bear with me a little longer

IPA. London-style IPA. You know, the stuff that's not "real"IPA because it isn't strong enough. What bastards, eh, those brewers, calling something IPA that was weaker than their PA? Whitbread did it for more than 50 years. Just as well there were no style authorities at the time to reveal their hideous deception.....




IPA and Light Bitter
In London breweries, IPA was weaker, but more heavily hopped, than Pale Ale. I realise that this goes against received wisdom, but IPA was the session Bitter to Pale Ale's Best Bitter. The situation was somewhat different in Burton, where stronger, export IPA's similar to those of the 19th century were still brewed.

There were other Light Bitters, with brewhouse names such as XLK or XK. These were around the same gravity as IPA, but less well hopped. That is to say, with a gravity of around 1050º in 1914. Before the war, Whitbread's basic draught beers were IPA at 1050º, X (Mild) at 1057º and PA at 1061º. As you can see, Light Bitter was weaker than Mild.

Whitbread's IPA, like all their other beers underwent large changes during the war. Along with PA and Porter, it was one of only three beers Whitbread brewed all the way through the war.


Like with their PA, increasing the degree of attenuation offset the initial gravity cuts and the ABV even increased slightly from 4.4% to 4.9%. The hopping rate stayed pretty constant at around 12 pounds per quarter of malt. That's about 2 pounds per quarter more than PA. By 1918 the gravity of Whitbread IPA was down to just 1032º, just a little less than PA which was around 1036º.

The grist contained 20% sugar for most of the war years, except for a blip in late 1917/early 1918 when it dropped to 10%. I assume because of a shortage in supply as the same happened to all their beers. There were even some versions of MA brewed with no sugar at all.

The strength of Whitbread IPA only increased very slightly after war's end, settling at around 1036º for most of the interwar years. That's a 28% fall on it's 1914 gravity of 1050º. Which is more than the decrease in PA (25%) and X (26%).

Bitter 1914 - 1919

Just like for the soldiers in the trenches in 1915, the end of the war is nowhere in sight for you and me. Definitely for me. You may have already dressed in women's clothes and deserted. Can't say I'd blame you.

Today it's time to look at what happened to Bitter during WW I. More specifically, what happened to Whitbread PA. It's going to be very, very specific.

You can never go into too much detail. I hope you can't. Otherwise my book may be a disaster. You're only getting the edited highlights here. I've written more than 100,000 words. So far.

Back to today. Ten different versions of Whitbread PA for you to admire. Not that there's anything that earth-shattering to discover. Lots of pale malt, a few East Kents and Mid Kents and several big dollops of sugar. Except when they seemed to run short of sugar in late 1917. Most old recipes aren't very complicated.



Bitter
Known as PA or Pale Ale withing the brewery, Bitter was, as today, part of the standard pub draught range. The style was increasing in popularity and in London was already beginning to rival Mild. In 1881, PA was just 5% of Whitbread's Ale output. By 1891, it was up to 10%; by 1901 23%; by 1910 23%. However, most of this wasn't the strong PA, but the weaker 2PA and FA, which were around 1050º in 1914.

In 1914 standard PA had a gravity in the range 1055-1060º and was hopped at 1.75 to 2.5 pounds per barrel, 9 to 12 pounds per quarter of malt. The alcohol content was fairly modest for the gravity, as it was usually only 65-70% attenuated, giving it about 5.5% ABV.

Of all the major styles, Bitter suffered least from wartime gravity cuts. It wouldn't fare so well in WW II.

The table below shows the changes in Whitbread PA during the war years.


The most obvious change is the big cut in gravity from 1917 onwards. By May 1917 it had dropped from 1061 to 1045 - a decline of 26%. Yet, because the degree of attenuation increased dramatically - from 66% to 85% - there was little change in the beer's ABV. That only fell from 5.3% to 5.1%. Which is fine if all you're after is the alcohol. These changes must have had a big impact on the character of the beer. As the hopping rate also increased from 10 to 12 pounds per quarter, the 1917 version must have been significantly more bitter, as well as being much thiner, than the pre-war beer.

The short space of time in which these changes took place must have made them very obvious to drinkers. They couldn't have failed to notice their pint was very different. The brewers themselves struggled with the constant recipe changes. Many of the logs have notes saying something didn't turn out quite right with the beer, such as the gravity being too high or it being too bitter.

In the early years of the war, Whitbread brewed a second PA called 2PA. This was weaker than standard PA, 1053º in 1914, though it was party-gyled with it. Before the war 2PA had outsold PA by more than 5 to 1. It was discontinued in 1916 when the gravity of PA dropped to about the same level as pre-war 2PA. They seem to have upped the production of PA to make up for the loss of 2PA.

PA was the only beer Whitbread brewed more of in 1919 than they had in 1914. Before the war, Whitbread's production of PA had been just about 1% of their total output. In 1919 it was 9% of what they brewed, around 40,000 barrels.

However, unlike Mild, Bitter never became so weak as to not really be an alcoholic drink. Even the weakest versions of Whitbread PA were over 3.5% ABV. Though they didn't realise it at the time, drinkers had been given a brief preview of what Bitter was to become after WW II.

Gravities increased again after 1919 and by the early 1920's were in the low 1050's, or 8-10º lower than in 1914. Whitbread PA had a gravity of 1046º in 1923, 25% lower than its 1914 gravity of 1061º.

Profiteering Whitbread

As threatened, I've worked out what Whitbread's total margins were on brewing for every year of WW I. The increased margin per barrel more than offset any fall in output. In the year ending July 1919, Whitbread brewed almost exactly the same volume of Ale as in 1915, yet their margin had increased several fold. Cheeky bastards, eh?

Brewing logs are so full of information. I keep finding more in them. Maybe, one day, I'll understand them 100%. Whitbread's have given me a great insight into their finances during the war.



Profiteering 1914 - 1919

Here's an overview of the Ales Whitbread brewed during the war and how much their margin was on them:


It certainly doesn't look as if Whibread suffered financially because of the war.

Whitbread PA costings 1914 - 1919

Just a short post today. It is the weekend, after all. Time for me to have a bit of a rest.

More Whitbread costing from WW I. I guess you all must find it as fascinating as I do. If you haven't given up on this blog yet. I could talk about WW I all day. Beer during WW I. Not so sure why.

PA is useful for these purposes because it's one of only three beers Whitbread brewed all through the war. It's intriguing how little relationship there was between the cost of production and wholesale price.

You'll see how much the gravity fell in the last couple of years of the war, getting down to as little as 1035º. That version could have had little in common tastewise with the PA of 1914, which was nearly 6% ABV.


Next thing I need to do is to work out how much how Whitbread's total margin was in each year of the war. By multiplying the margin per barrel by the number of barrels brewed. I suspect that that remained fairly constant as the amount of beer they brewed declined.