Museum Tram

It's become a tradition, taking the Museum Tram out to Bovenkerk on Easter Sunday. Yesterday, it being Easter Sunday, we duly walked down to Haarlemmermeer Station at 12:00.

The fact that the starting point of the Museum Tram is just a 10-minute walk away makes it an easy outing. I'm all for easy outings. No messing around first getting a tram to Centraal Station, buying a train ticket, getting on a train, etc, etc. Just a gentle stroll past the tram garage and the ladies' prison.

It was Lexie who had suggested it. "Can we go on the Museum Tram, dad?" He's not daft. He knows that volunteers, dressed as easter bunnies, give out chocolate eggs on the tram on Easter Sunday.

We timed our arrival just a little too well. We got straight onto a 1940's vintage Amsterdam tram that was on the point of departure. No time for dad to nip into Macy's for a quick Duvel. I hadn't mentioned why I didn't object to this particular excursion, did I? There's a pub at either end of the Museum Tram line. Both are in my Amsterdam Pub Guide.

The Easter bunnies came around almost immediately after the tram set off. A whole family of them. I took a chocolate egg, too. Not for me, obviously. I believe sugar is evil. None has passed my lips for 30 years. Except brewing sugar. I make an exception for that.

Our destination, Silversant, is a lazy stroll from the tram terminus. Enough to give us a bit of an appetite. Just as well, as our intention was to eat there.

I've been drinking in Silversant as long as anywhere around Amsterdam. It was the standard after-work destination at my first Dutch job. Not that we had much choice of where to go, Amstelveen being almost totally devoid of pubs.

The weather, with the sun veiled by mist, was just good enough for sitting outside, but not so good that the terrace was crowded. I don't like it too warm, anyway. Or too sunny. In fact, overcast skies and a light drizzle is my favourite. I know. I'm weird.

One of the bad habits I've picked up from blogging is photographing my beer. And my food.

"Can you stop taking photos and let us eat, dad." "Andrew, get your hand out of the way." Daaaaad, I'm hungry." "Who's paying for this?" That's my trump card. Money.

Beer. That's the theme around here, isn't it? I almost forgot. I had a few Chouffes. A very pleasant summer beer. And one that doesn't suffer much from a little chilling. Dolores had a Wittekerke Witbier. She must have liked it, because she had three.

"Can I try your beer , dad?" "OK, Lexie" It looked more like he was spitting into it than drinking it. Little bastard. Just as well it was nearly empty. "You can finish that. I'll get myself a fresh one."

After stuffing ourselves we wandered back to the tram stop through the edge of the Amsterdamse Bos. That bit is a sort of water park, where swampy ground and winding waterways surround a huge lake. It's really quite idyllic. If it weren't for the aircraft taking off every 30 seconds from nearby Schiphol, you could be in the middle of nowhere.

We got home in time for another tradition. One than happens every Sunday. Me falling asleep in front of the television. What an exciting life I lead.


Elektrische Museumetramlijn Amsterdam
Haarlemmermeerstation,
Amstelveenseweg 264,
1075 XV Amsterdam.
http://museumtramlijn.org


Macy's
Amstelveenseweg 266,
1075 XV Amsterdam.
Tel. 020-671 2717


Eetcafé Silversant
Noorddammerlaan 119,
1187 AC Amstelveen.
Tel. 020 - 641 4851
http://www.silversant.nl/

Decoction mashing in the UK

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, the flowers in the garden are blooming. It must be time to return to decoction mashing. This time a British description, from the 1920's.

The source is a book I bought recently, "Practical Brewing and the Management of British Beers" by WH Nithsdale and AJ Manton, published in 1924 (pages 41-42).

"Decoctioon systems are designed to secure the maximum extracts from malt. They have an economic value in the production of mild beers and running ales, but they are far from popular, one of the more common complaints being an unpalatable "husky" flavour in the finished beer.

In simple decoction two and a half barrels of liquor per quarter of malt are employed, an initial heat of 125º Fahr. being the brewer's objective. Liquor goods stand for forty minutes only, after which the turbid worts are run off without thought of the care that must be given to the brilliant taps in the infusion system. In a suitable vessel, preferably commanding the mash tun, the worts are raised to a temperature between 195º Fahr. and the boiling point, and then returned immediately, through the mashing machine, to the good in the mash tun and thoroughly roused. A temperature of 150º to 152º Fahr., may be anticipated, and by underletting boling liquor the goods temperature is raised to 154º Fahr. The goods then stand for one hour, and bright worts are run off into the copper for the usual process of boiling with the hops."

So decoction is suitable for brewing Mild. Funny they should mention that. One of the experiments Barclay Perkins made in their lager brewery during WW I was a decocted Mild.

Does decoction mashing fascinate you? Then buy a copy of "Decoction!". The best book on historical decoction mashing published this year.

Attempted muffin

It's been a quiet day. So I've been reading through my Food Control Manuals for light amusement, Not just the orders relating to beer. There are some real crackers.

For example, Order 1917 No. 132. Otherwise known as the Cake and Pastry Order. Paragraph 1 made me burst out laughing:

"1. No person shall after the 21st April, 1917, make or attempt to make for sale, or after 24th April, 1917, sell or offer to sell or have in his possession for sale:-

(a) Any crumpet, muffin, tea cake or fancy bread, or any light or fancy pastries, or any other like article.
(b) Any cake, bun, scone or biscuit, which does not conform to the requirements of the two following provisions of this Order."

Basically, they were making the possession of muffins illegal. 1917 must have been so much fun. Watery beer and no crumpets. He must have been a popular man, the Food Controller.

Styles by decree

I'm a bit slow sometimes. You'll have to excuse me. I've been really thick. This is a pattern I should have noticed long ago.

You must have noticed my thing about WW I. It's hard to miss. I keep going on about it. As part of my continuing research, I've been looking up all the beer-related Orders from the Food Controller. Some of the most interesting are from just after the war's end, in 1919 and 1920. These are the ones that regulate the price of beer according to the original gravity. This is a summary:


Fascinating stuff, eh? I've had some of these numbers for quite a long. The very last column. They are quoted in The Brewers' Almanack 1928. These were the last controlled prices that were in effect until August 1921.

I've a mass of data for the 1920's and 1030's. Courtesy of the Whitbread and Truman Gravity Books. So much that I still haven't got through it all. Funnily enough, the first entries in the Whitbread Gravity Book are for late 1921. Just when all the restrictions on gravity and prices were removed.

It isn't a coincidence. There was a reason for Whitbread's sudden interest in the gravity of their competitors' beer. To see what they were up to now government control had been removed.

Where does the me being thick part come in? I'd never thought to compare the price control table with the details gleaned from the Gravity Books. Why don't you give it a go? Look at the table below. Spot any similarities with the other table?


I've arrived at the gravities by averaging out dozens of examples from different breweries. I can see a clear pattern. Brewers were making beers that fitted into the old price control gravity bands. And charging the same price. So although there was officially, no price control in 1922 and 1923, there may as well have been.

Why do I have four columns in my second table? It's to match the changes in tax. Here's an overview:


Ignoring the blips caused by adjustments in the beer tax, the strength and price of beer brewed right up until the outbreak of WW II was effectively determined by the price control regulations at the end of WW I. Styles between the wars were, to a great extent, determined by government decree. Even though for the vast majority of the period brewers were thoeretically free to brew any strength beer and to sell it for whatever price they pleased.

Depression

I keep telling you what a massive effect WW I had on British beer and brewing. But there was another, non-war-related event that had a considerable impact. The Great Depression.

Once the dust had settled after WW I, average gravity had dropped by about 10º from its pre-war level. It remained at around 1043º until 1931, when a big rise in beer duty (from 80s to 114s per standard barrel) prompted brewers to cut gravities to avoid increasing the price of a pint.

The uneven approach of brewers to the tax increase - dropping the gravity of some styles, such as Mild and Porter, increasing the price of others like Bitter - widened the gap in strength between the cheap and expensive beers. In 1923, Whitbread's X Ale had an OG of 1042.1º and its PA 1046.4º. In 1933, X was 1036.1º and PA 1048.8º.

The tax increase was reversed in 1933, but gravities never got back to their old levels, remaining around 1041º. Nor did the government's tax revenues. As you can see from the table below.


In the 1920's, X Ale (standard Mild) cost 6d a pint and had a gravity of around 1042º. After the tax increase, the gravity dropped to 1036º and the price remained at 6d a pint. When tax went back to 80 shillings a barrel in 1933, brewers left the gravity the same and dropped the price to 5d a pint. Drinkers couldn't have complained that much about their Mild tasting watery.

There were two classes of Bitter, one which sold at 7d a pint and had a typical gravity of 1046º, the other was 8d a pint and 1053º. In the early 1930's, the stronger version mostly disappeared. Mostly just a single Bitter was sold, at a price of 8d a pint and with a gravity of 1046º.

Draught Strong Ale (or Burton) was, before 1930, always 8d a pint and about 1053º. After the tax rise, there are two different types. One that cost 9d a pint and had the old gravity. The other was 8d a pint and 1046º. When the tax fell again, the price of each type was cut by 1d.

Perspective. Like I was saying the other day, perspective is what you need. There present times may be difficult for British brewing, but it's survived worse in the past. Increasing beer tax in an economic recession isn't likely to equivalently increase government revenue. Demand for beer isn't that elastic. As the early 1930's demonstrate. It took the industry the best part of 10 years to recover from an injudicious tax increase. I wonder how long it will take this time?

Restrictions on malting in WW I

I told you I'd eventually get around to reading my Food Control Manuals. And what fascinating reading they make.

Here's a summary of what they have to say about malt and malting.


The Brewers (Malt Purchases) Order, 1917. Dated February 3rd 1917. Order 1917 no. 132.
Prohibited maltsters from selling malt without the permission of the Food Controller. Brewers were prohibited from buying or making malt.

"1. Except under the authority of the Food Controller no maltster or dealer in malt shall on or after the 10th February, 1917, agree to sell any malt to any brewer for sale or make delivery to any brewer for sale of any malt other than deliverable under contracts made before that date.

2. Except under the authority of the Food Controller, no brewer for sale shall on or after the 10th February, 1917, agree to buy any malt or take delivery of any malt other than deliverable under contracts made before that date.

3. Except under the authority of the Food Controller, no brewer for sale shall manufacture any malt from barley agreed to be bought on or after the 10th February, 1917."

The Malt (Restriction) Order, 1917. Dated February 20, 1917. Order 1917 no. 159.
Prohibited maltsters from making malt from any grains without the permission of the Food Controller.

The Malt (Restriction on Shipping) Order, 1917. Dated March 21, 1917. Order 1917 no. 259.
Prohibited exporting malt from Ireland to Great Britain or from Great Britain to Ireland without permission of the Food Controller.

The Malt (Restriction) No. 2 Order, 1917. Dated April 12, 1917. Order 1917 no. 345.
Prohibited maltsters from making malt from any grains without the permission of the Food Controller.
Prohibited maltsters from selling malt without the permission of the Food Controller.
Prohibited the use of malt for any purpose without the permission of the Food Controller, except for brewers making their premitted barrelage.

The Malt (Restriction) Order, 1917. Dated February 26, 1918. Order 1918 no. 225.
Prohibited maltsters from making malt or malt extract without the permission of the Food Controller.
Prohibited maltsters from selling malt without the permission of the Food Controller.
Prohibited the use of malt or malt extract for any purpose without the permission of the Food Controller, except for brewers making their premitted barrelage.

Order, Dated the 30th December, 1918, revoking the The Malt (Restriction on Shipping) Order, 1917. Order 1918 no. 1755.
Revoked Order 1917 no. 259.


Now wasn't that fun? No sign of any rules forbidding the manufacture of dark malt. I wonder where they could be hiding?

Perspective

I often get ideas on the tram. Or bus. While waiting for those bastard cars to shift off the tram tracks. Today's was "Perspective".

"Lexie, I'll paint that red, if you promise not to pester me until I've finished writing my blog."

"OK"

(I could explain what I have to paint red and why, but that would take all the mystery away. )

Perspective. The personal event horizon. Everything before consciousness, is tedious. For me, the 1950's were weird, boring, black and white days. Old-fashioned and dull. Everything after 1965 was exciting and new.

Until 1986. When every change in music or fashion become scarily threatening. Hey, I knew what cool was in the second half of 1976. Don't go changing cool and making me look like a twat.

But it's provided me with a useful scale. Of historical perspective. The year is 1870. What would your average drinker, brewer, politician, journalist, novelist have known about the 1830's? What do you know, from personal experience of beer from the 1960's? Or the 1970's?

How far in the past is your horizon?

The horizon of personal experience influences our view of both the past and the future. We extrapolate the present back into the past. I used to think Bitter and Mild, as I experienced them in the 1970's, had been around for centuries. It's a fault repeated in many books about beer. Even brewers have little concept of what went on before they started brewing themselves.

The future we expect to be a continuation of the present, with just the odd tweak. Who could have imagined in 1900 that Porter would have disappeared within 50 years? Or in the 1940's that Mild would have disappeared from swathes of Britain by 1980? Will pale lager continue its domination for another 100 years? History tells us no. Its decline will be unexpected and surprisingly swift.

Perspective. It's what I'm trying to gain with all my fiddling around in dusty, 150 year old books. I'm starting to get a little. But I want full 4-D.

Let's brew Wednesday - Whitbread 1917 IPA

It's always WW I Week here at Barclay Perkins. "If you like WW I so much, why don't you move there?". If only I could. If only I could.

What have we for you today? I was going to say "a typical IPA". But what is a typical IPA? Whitbread's is very much a London IPA. Light-bodied, relatively low-gravity (it was below average), heavily-hopped. I'll let Kristen explain further.


Kristen's notes
It's funny that this beer seems to completely opposite to what is commonly held as what an IPA is and was. Lower gravity, but tons of hops, heap of sugar...

Grist
There are actually two types of 6-row malt being American and Spanish. The interesting thing about this beer is the use of the Spanish malt. You know its desperate times when you start having to use Spanish malt. The two English malts, Taylor and Earp, were not of the highest quality and old as indicated. I wouldn't use the choices malt for this one but something a little less complex (Halcyon, pipkin, etc) and definitely not Mild malt. Lots of plain glucose which really doesn't add a whole lot of any character but ferments nearly completely.

Mash
This is really the first time that I've seen such a high mash temperature for such a low gravity pale beer. That being said, with the amount of sugar added (~20%), one would need to mash this high to keep the beer from fermenting out to much. The beer finishes up around 1.010 which keeps this beer from being to dry. You'll also notice that the strike infusion ratio is quite low making this mash quite thick. Don't be afraid of this but do be sure to have extra sparge liquor on hand.

Hops
Talk about a beer that uses a ton of hops. All from the same year. All from the same area...East Kent. Although the yards were different the characteristics should be similar enough. Whitbred Goldings would be the closest but EKGs are much easier to find. Either way, there will be a ton used. The AA% at the time would have been right about 3.5% so the actually amount of hops would have been about 30% more than the 5% EKGs I list to us. This would definitely change the beer. This wouldn't increase the 'hop' character necessarily more so would have added a much great grassy, herbacious character. So, point short, if you can find some older hops, use those instead.




Simplified recipe

Matt, Lucas

Matt was over to stay at the weekend. It's always great to see him. For many reasons. Not only smugness. There's a bit of genuine affection. I've only known my brother and Henry longer.

Matt stayed with us twice on this trip. Once on his way to Vollenhove and again on the way back. (I'd have given him the Stout to try, but there's been none around for ages.) Old friends have a tendency to dwell on the past. Not me and Matt. We didn't go further back than the shed night*. That was only three and a bit years ago. The same day as my first archive visit.

He mostly spoke about the philosophy of history. I think that's what it was. It wasn't the history of philosophy, I'm sure about that. Very abstract stuff. In return, I expounded my theory of beer style evolution. We know each other well enough that he didn't bother feigning much interest.

Saturday, I had a party to take him to. Lucas's birthday. (I bought him stainless steel saucepans as a present.) Thankfully, it didn't end too late. Getting home with both ankles intact is always a relief.

Lucas calling on Sunday morning was a surprise. "Can I bring around an Al Murray video for Mike to borrow?" "Sure. What about a pub visit?" Matt had requested one pub visit during his time in Mokum. Unwaged, as often, too many Amsterdam nights out would soon, as so many rats, eat away his small pile of euros.

"Let's go to the pub by the bridge." I suggested. "Do you mean Ter Brugge, or the small one?" Lucas replied. "The posh one." "OK". Matt, as so often, said nothing. Couldn't have any objections, then.

"Can I come, dad?" "Only if you don't whinge, Lexie."

The yuppie pub by the bridge isn't a long walk. I'd name it, except that I won't. Another one of my things. It's a beery-ish pub. Maybe forty in total, across bottled and draught. Filliers jenever is on the menu, too.

"I'll have a witbier" Lucas said. "Whatever you're having." was Matt's tradition-true response. "Can I have cake?" You can probably guess who said that. His name starts in an a and ends in a lexie.

Over the years, I've learned a few things about luring the kids into pubs. Laying a trail of sweets is number 1. Much less trouble than number 2: giving them my full attention. I bought five Belgian bonbons. (I told you it was posh.) Five euros is a small price to pay for fifteen minutes peace.

We didn't drink quickly enough. I was barely three sips into La Chouffe number two when Lexie said "Can we go home now?" "You wanted to come." "Dad, finish your beer." Lexie tried to forcefeed me Chouffe. One bonbon more bought me enough time to finish my beer in relative peace.

Lucas cycled off to happy hour at the Hell's Angels bar. We strolled back home. "Tell me more about Slovenian philosphers." I said to Matt, as I drifted into my Sunday afternoon doze. I awoke in time to catch the last 25 minutes of Polizeiruf.



*When, at the 50th birthday party of other university friends, Matt and I had to sleep in the shed. That's telling you your place.

Following guidelines

On reflection, and after a couple of beers, I realised this post was a pile of crap. Repetitive, unimaginative and an insult to everyone's intelligence, including mine.

Instead, I'm giving you a sneak preview of our next film. The first title was "They flew to Bruges". But that was too derivative. It's now called "Vive la résistance". Lexie made a sten gun yesterday. We're just about ready to go. All we need is a script.

Usually Lexie does the writing. It's my turn now. I didn't realise how hard it was. This is what I've got so far:



Vive la Resistance!

The Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame etc with French accordion music in the background.
The caption "France 1940"

Hitler screams and waves his arms around then the Panzers roll forward to the sound of Blitzkrieg Bop


Scene 1

A small group of men huddle around a table, drinking wine.

Barclay Perkins, British secret agent, is speaking in a coarse whisper.

. . . . .



I suppose I need the odd bit of dialogue. That's just a detail. I've got an impressive-sounding name for the hero. What more do I need? Barclay Perkins is surely enough.

Food Control Manual

WW I is so much fun. From the safety of nigh on a hundred year gap. I doubt people at the time were chortling quite so much.

Have I told you how wonderful this interweb thing is? Just in case I haven't: this interweb thing is wonderful. This week I found digitised copies of the Food Control Manual. They list all the Orders of the Food Controller. (I can't help but think of Thomas the Tank Engine every time I see a mention of the Food Controller.) Some orders dictated the maximum price of bacon, ham and lard. Others the price of Dutch cheese or Persian dates. He was a very powerful man, the Food Controller.

Why am I boring you with this? There is a reason. And it's beer-related. Can't guess? I'll give you a clue: Porter.

What's that story about the disappearance of Porter again? That they weren't allowed to make roasted malts in WW I and so couldn't brew Porter. I've already demonstrated that Porter was brewed right through the war. Now I'm on the track of these putative restrictions on malt roasting.

That's where the Food Control Manual comes in. It lists all the Fat Contoller's diktats. Including the ones relating beer and malting. Not seen anything restricting the types of malt that could be made yet. But I haven't got through all the Manuals.

It could take some time. You'll have to bear with me on this one.

A book for Oz

I've already told you about the red mist that descended during the 30-second sequence on the history of Porter in the Oz Clarke/James May series. Today I've done something to calm my anger. I've sent a book to Oz Clarke.

Not just any book, but "Brown Beer". The best book ever written about Porter and Stout. (That's what I would have put on the cover. Except it's a quote from myself.) Ten shiny, new copies arrived yesterday. I've already started packing them up and shipping them out.

Unfortunately, you won't be able to buy a copy for yourself just yet. Not until I've posted out all the freebies. You'' have to wait a few weeks. Maybe you could pass away that time with another of my excellent efforst, the slightly misleadingly-titled "Decoction!". (It's selling very well. Almost into double figures.) I've even corrected the deliberate mistake.

That reminds me. I must start getting the next volume in my Mini Book Series ready for publication: "War!". Any guesses as to its subject?

The rise of Pilsner

I've been researching a WW I post. About the effect of emergency legislation on beer gravity. I'm ever the populist. But it's taken longer than expected to go through all the material. So in the meantime, here's a post on Pilsner. And Denmark.

It's often assumed that immediately after it was first brewed in 1842, Pilsner swept all before. The reality is somewhat different. Yes, lager began to be brewed throughout Europe in the second half of the 19th century. But the first lagers most breweries produced weren't Pilsner. They were dark Munich-style beers. It was usually a couple of decades later that the first Pilsner was brewed. Even by the outbreak of WW I in 1914, only a small percentage of lager was Pilsner.

What seems like several decades ago at the start of my blogging career, I posted about the different types of beer produced in late 19th-century and early 20th-century Sweden. The amount of Pilsner was tiny. Now I've finally got my hands on a copy of "Danish Beer & Continental Beer Gardens" by Max Henius (published in 1913), I get bore you with similar numbers for Denmark. Here goes.


You have to remember that Denmark, led by Carlsberg and Tuborg, was in the vanguard of Pilsner brewing. Even there, it only became the biggest-selling type in 1906-1907. What's called "Lager Beer" was dark lager. Like Gammel Carlsberg, if anyone remembers that, or Tuborg Rod.

Pilsner is very much a 20th-century phenomenon. I wonder what will replace it in the 21st?

Great news for Jeff

Great news for Jeff: I've another work trip to the US this month. Ten days this time. It'll cover New Jersey, Wisconsin, New York and New Jersey again. I'll be gone 10 days in all.

Last time I had posts queued up to cover most my trip. This time I can't be arsed. I'll be posting on the road. My new flippytop and hotel wifi make mobile(ish) posting a breeze. I'll soon have caught up with the 1990's. I'm so modern. Sometimes I even carry a mobile phone.

So travel reports a-gogo. Or lots of incoherent drunken tales. Depending on what you think of my writing. Now I know there's an offie opposite the office, there should also be more beer reviews.

24th-26th April I'll be in New York. Probably in the Blind Tiger some, if not most, of the time. Should you fancy buying me a beer, just come up to me and say "Aren't you world-renowned beer blogger Ron Pattinson? Let me buy you the most expensive beer they have." I'll be easy to spot. The fat, old English bloke with an unquenchable thirst who's leering surreptitiously at the barmaid's decolleté.

On the other hand, if you're one of the psychos who stalk me on the web, I'll be the 25 year old bodybuilder with tattoes up to his eyebrows. Your codeword is: "You might look like a girl, but you smell like a badger's arse."

Pub - work

Here's part two of the work pub interface. At least as experienced by one fat old bloke. You would have got it all in one chunk, but Stonch called me out on one of my numbers posts yesterday. "Why not write some more travel reports?" I could have just said "because I haven't been chuffing travelling recently." Then I remembered: the past is a foreign country. Let's do some travelling there.

I was already past the passage where Lexie tells me to bugger off to my computer when I noticed Stonch's comment. Two blogs, indeed. Diversity is the name of the game here. And I'm never going to fill a blog with amusing stuff. The numbers occupy the spaces left by my intermittent imagination. The stories of my kids help me through the days when I can't face statistics. Well it makes sense to me.

Where was I? Pissing it up during and after work. That was my theme. See where interrupting me gets you, Stonch? Just delays the fun bits. Whatever they might be.


Arms Factory, Shoreditch, May - July 1979.
While I was living in a squat with just about everyone I knew, I got a job at an arms factory. Well, not just me, me and Matt. I can't for the life or me remember the company's name. But it made the boxes for anti-aircraft missiles and doors for warships.


George and Vulture
63 Pitfield St,
London, N1.

We often ate our lunch (me and Matt) in the little park opposite the George and Vulture (still one of my favourite pub names). Occasionally we'd nip in for a quick pint of Pride. A few years later, Piers worked behind the bar.


Bricklayers Arms,
63 Charlotte Rd,
London, EC2A.

I think this is the right pub. It was a specialist real ale place. I can well remember one lunchtime session there. We only got 30 minutes. And it was a 3 or 4 minute walk to the Bricklayers. One Friday they had Fuller's Hock on. I manged to sink 5 in 20 minutes. That's still a dinnertime record for me.

8,000 entries in sight

I've been at work on my Gravity Table again. I try to keep up with transcribing details from the Whitbread Gravity Book. The current count of entries is 7474. Most are for British beers. 6877, to be exact.

This is how they break down by style:

321 Brown Ale
175 IPA
1392 Mild
2376 Pale Ale
347 Porter
1150 Stout
859 Stout

As for breweries, you'll never guess which one I have the most entries for:

597 Barclay Perkins
378 Truman
356 Whitbread

Maybe I'll get around to properly analysing them one day.

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1917 Whitbread GA and 1918 Whitbread MA

Hey kids, I've a special treat in store for you today. A truly extreme Mild. Yep, a beer that's about as mild as an Ale can get. Sam Calagione eat your heart out.

Before we get to the tables that leave Stonch sighing in his armchair, time for a little background. GA is short for "Governement Ale", a beer whose strength and price was set by government decree. 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 . 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 1036º. 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.

This popular song of the day shows just how popular these Government Ales were with drinkers:

Lloyd George's Beer
Sung By Ernie Mayne

We shall win the war, we shall win the war,
As I've said before, we shall win the war,
The Kaiser's in a dreadful fury,
Now he knows were making it in every brewery.
Have you read of it? Seen what's said of it?
In "The Mirror" and "The Mail"
It's a substitute and a pubstitute,
And it's known as "Government Ale". Or otherwise.

Chorus

Lloyd George's beer, Lloyd George's beer,
At the brewery, there's nothing doing,
All the water-works are brewing,
Lloyd George's beer, it isn't dear
Oh they say it is a terrible war, Oh Lor'
And there never was a war like this before
But the worst thing that ever happened in this war
Is Lloyd George's beer.

Love the word "pubstitute". I'll have to start using that.


Let's start with a beer that could still actually get you pissed.





This is a simplified bversion of the same recipe:



This one would be more of a struggle to get wobbly on. But it's far from being the weakest Whitbread wartime Mild.




And finally a Mild that definitely wasn't going to make you accidentally blow up the munitions factory. I've seen "non-alcoholic" beers that were stronger.



Kristen's notes
TWO recipes for the price of one....we'll I guess its more like 1.5 recipes. The GA is one of the first Government ales. I won't go into any depth of the 'style' as Ron has done a great job of discussing them in the past. This GA is more unique than most as the gravity is still reasonable and its 100% malt which is very uncommon. It still has a good amount of fresher hops in it.

The MA is the lowest of the low of the mild ales. Complete and utter 'nothing' added. The gravity is not a mistake as it was that low. The quality of the ingredients were horrible, most were old to VERY old and the sugar is through the roof at +20%...plain old glucose. As vanilla as a sugar can get. They included hops that were 5 years old or so. Both recipes are very pale compared to older milds which doesn't make them less of a 'mild'...just different.

Random brewery - Benskins

Benskins of Watford was a sizeable brewery in its day. Like many others, it disappeared in the rush of rationalisation in the 1950's and 1960's. Gobbled up by Ind Coope in 1957, it closed forever in 1972.

Along with the names of other defunct breweries in the Allied Empire, like Taylor Walker, it did make a brief comeback in the 1980's. Albeit in name only. What's left of the brewery now, except a few memories?

Well there are the entries in the Whitbread and Truman Gravity Books. A few Benskins beers crop up there. Let's take a look, shall we?


Benskins Pale Ale, or Bitter, was a powerful beer, averaging around 1054º and sometimes hitting close to 6% ABV. From the comments, it seems to have been a pretty decent beer. Two "v good" is pretty good going. Looks like you had close on a 50% chance of getting a good pint.

But the brewery was most renowned for an even stronger beer, Colne Spring Ale. At over 10% ABV and more than 80% apparent attenuation, it was probably quite drinkable for its strength. I've seen it described as a Barley Wine, though I'm not sure what the brewery called it, nor what colour it was. Probably dark, like most other Strong Ales of the day.

Work - Pub

I've just finished explaining the form, function and fine etiquette of trolling down the pub from work to Lexie. He stopped making eye contact and concentrated on his pasta before I even got to past Legal & General.

"Go away and do what you have to do on the computer."

"What?"

"Before I count to three."

"You want me to go on the computer?"

"One . . . .two . . . two and a half . . . ."

That's when I started typing. After two and a half. The discovery of a lifetime, afternoon, er, somewhere inbetween. How to get peace while I type. Bore the eyebrows off everyone. Boring done, we can continue.

When half of Lexxie's left eyebrow had dissolved, a thought struck me a glancing blow. "Why not write about the work pub dynamic?" Loads of pseudo-sociological stuff and dim recollections of postprandial pissups as padding. Tastobrillic.

The customs surrounding drinking in conjunction with work are as varied as some incredibly varied thing. (Five minutes is long enough to try thinking up a good simile. I'll use the Blackadder defence.)

I've worked in a few towns and a few countries. Nowhere, in my experience, matches Britain, and in particular London, in its dedication to pissing it up down the boozer during or after work. Lloyd George - bastard - put paid to pre-work pub fun.

Here's an overview of my work/boozer experience:

West Yorkshire Passenger Transit, Leeds, 1979
Every Friday, after we got our paypackets everyone went to the Highland Laddie. Considering me a middle-class ponce, my Tetley's Mild drinking abilities were unexpected. Three or four pints in 25 minutes.

Legal & General, Surrey, 1983-1984
A dream job, in a way. My first employment as a programmer. The canteen had a licensed bar. And they had cask beer. And it was cheaper than in a pub. The food wasn't bad, either. On a side note, it's where my career as IT professional began. But they had a bar in the canteen! With good, cheap beer!

That wasn't good enough. Friday lunch, everyone went down the pub. Restraint isn't my middle name. I'm more a get two pints and a couple of double short in on last orders type of bloke. I found my colleagues a bit overenthusiastic. Office work tempered my thirst: three pints in an hour.



Oh dear. I forgot about London. When I worked in the arms factory in 1978. Shit. I didn't want to mention that. You'll think I'm a nazi. What the hell. It's a good tale. And involves Matt. I'll tell you tomorrow. Promise.

Truman's Ales in 1914

I've moved further back in time. With the Truman's brewing records. Back to 1914. Almost at the end of The Happy Time. (That's also what I call the period before we had kids. The Happy Time. For some reason, it pisses the kids off when I use the phrase.)

If you though the 1964 names weren't very descriptive, take a look at these:


The beers just have numbers, apart from P1, P2, P3 and 8K. They have a letter and a number. And A. That just has a letter. The biggest sellers were, in descending order, P2, 8k, 8 and 7. If you can remember as far back as last week, you'll have noticed that only P1, P2 and 7 were still being brewed in 1964.

If you're wondering why there are no details for P1, 1 and 9. it's because I don't have photos of the logs. All were produced in tiny quantities and there were probably only a handful of sheets for them in the log book. And I missed them. Sorry.

It looks like they were using a numbering system similar to Bass. Starting with No.1 Ale as the strongest. The P's were for three different strengths of Pale Ale. That's another reason why I suspect these logs are from Truman's brewery in Burton.

What are the numbered Ales? Stock and Mild Ales I expect. The advert says East India Pale and Strong Burton Ales. And Mild Ales. I think I can spot the Pale Ales. What about the rest?