Scotland 1 England 0 ?

Is Jim Baxter back? No. I've just taken a first look at the first bits. (Sorry not very good with the words today.) Of my England/Scotland comparison. Just a few years. And only two breweries. So pretty meaningless, really.

Having said that, a couple of things do stand out. One being the difference in the types of beer brewed. Fermentation temperatures look much the same. And the hopping. But I don't want to be premature. Give me another week and I'll have a better sample.

Comparing the numbers is proving more difficult than I expected. I may need help.

Munich (day 3.1)

Sorry. I didn't manage to finish day three of my Munich stay. Just did too much. And too many pub reports in a row get dull. Wouldn't want to start boring you.

Time was just a single pub graced the houses surrounding the Frauen Kirche. The oddly-named Nürnberger Bratwurstglöckl. But that's all changed. Augustiner have opened a pub right next door and Andechser one that is as good as. As neither was there on my last visit, Frauenplatz was next on my list.

Not being totally without time restraints, there was only time to go inside one. I'd two other Augustiner pubs on my itinerary. Andechser am Dom it was then. I threaded my way through the tables outside and entered.

It was positively cramped compared to most of the places I'd been to in Munich. Just a single square room filled with a jumble of unmatched tables. Panelling that looked remarkably like ecclesiastical salvage covered the walls. Fitting, I suppose, given the location opposite the cathedral and beer from a monastery. Adjacent was an arcade, separated from the main pub by windows and open to the street. I wondered what the hell the point was until I saw all the ashtrays. It's their way of getting a smokers' "room".

Not wanting to change the habit of a lifetime, I ordered a Dunkles. I hadn't looked at the menu. But a suitably mahogany coloured fluid was plonked in front of me. As soon as it touched my lips I knew what it was: Doppelbock. I've had this happen before. Be given a Doppelbock as a susbtitute for Dunkles. Normally, I wouldn't complain. But I was feeling fragile and I'd ordered a half litre. Just have to force it down.

By the time I left the Andechser boozer it was after midday. Time to eat. Not that I particularly felt like stuffing food into myself. But I remembered the events of the previous day. I'd like to remember at least a little of the day's crawl.

Spaten is oddly difficult to find in the central Munich. It can't help that what was their main town-centre beerhall got flattened during the war. It was never rebuilt. A shop stands on the spot today. Underneath it, in the basement, a modern pub cowers. Not exactly atmospheric and no windows. The entrance looks like a seedy nightclub (see photo below).

During the summer, at least, things aren't quite so bad. They've a beer garden on the street. And that's where i sat. Next to a group of teenage girls in Dirndls who were even more hungover than me. The beer garden is slap in the middle of Neuhauserstrasse, part of Munich's main shopping drag. Plenty of opportunities for people watching.

A waiter soon approached. I'm sure you can guess what I ordered. That's right, a Pils. No, that's not true. In reality, I went for a low-alcohol Doppelbock. Or Dunkles* as the ignorant insist on calling it. It was a pretty enough colour. And had a nice dense head. Unfortunately, a bit too fizzy for my taste. A bit of caramel, some nuts and loads of sherbert from the excess CO2. Food. I ordered some of that as well. Six pairs of Nürnberger Bratwurst with sauerkraut. A healthfood snack.

Food eaten and half way down my beer, I surveyed my surroundings. I'd been on the lookout for the big bookshop. I knew it was down here somewhere. The middle-aged woman on the next table had one of their bags. Where was the bloody shop and how had I managed to miss it? Find out tomorrow, in possibly the last installment. Promise. That it's the last installment.



* Turns out it was probably Dunkles Löwenbräu out of a bottle.


Andechser am Dom
Weinstrasse 7a
80333 München
Tel: 089 - 298 481
Fax: 089 - 295 442
Email: info@andechser-am-dom.de
http://www.andechser-am-dom.de/



Schnitzelwirt im Spatenhof
Neuhauser Straße 39,
80331 Mü̈nchen.
Tel.: 089 - 264010
Fax: 089 - 24 210
http://www.schnitzelwirt.de

Munich (day three)

I'd had a good long sleep, but I still felt a bit weird. The day after the Oktoberfest. I'd stopped boozing at around 5 pm, too. I blame lack of food.

Breakfast didn't attract me a great deal. Despite my low food intake the day before. What was it I was feeling? Knackered? Hungover? Ill? Something somewhere inbetween all three.

When the eating was done, the other three all buggered off. Leaving me alone with my luggage and my strange feeling. But I wasn't lost. I had a plan for the day. And yes, it did include beer. Not that I felt much like one (I didn't look much like one, either). Grabbing some photos and dropping by a few pubs I'd not been in before. Basically to harvest material for my Munich Pub Guide.

I'd sort of worked out an itinerary. Wander down this way, then along here, down here and finally back to the hotel to pick up my bag. Simple. The exercise would soon liven me up, I was sure.

First on my list was Hackerhaus. Mostly because I'd never been there and it sounded like a cosy, old place. And it's pretty central. It wasn't hard to find. But I walked right on past. Why? I had lost one thing at the Oktoberfest. My pen. I needed a new one and fast. Now I was on my own there would be plenty of time for note-taking.

I found a pen. Something else, too. A book. I was just walking past a book shop and, as you do, dived in to check the beer section. Wonder of wonders - they had something I didn't already own. A book about brewing in Munich. With a proper bibliography and references. Brillafrickingriffic. I needed a good historical book about Munich. The day had begun well.

Hackerhaus is on the site of the original Hacker brewery. Not that's it's been there for a long while. It's a handsome 19th-century building with a good corner location. Except . . . the bit on the corner is now occupied by shops. The pub part is now an uneasy L-shape with little more than an entrance on the street.

Inside. How would I describe inside? Cosy? Old-fashioned? Stuffed full of old kack? Take your pick. It's all and more. It was all a bit much for me. Imagine having to dust all that stuff. It must be a nightmare. I decided to sit at one of the kerbside tables.

Despite being well before noon, there were already a few tables of drinkers outside. Don't you just love Bavaria? A dirndl-clad waitress soon trolled up. What would I loke to drink? Now there's a question. A Mild, that's what I'd like to drink. Luckily they did stock a Mild. Lager Mild, as I like to call it. Dunkles to everyone else. "A small Dunkles, please." "You do realise it's only 30 cl." the waitress warned me. I did realise, but it was nice of her to tell me.

Yes, I know I said I took notes. Do you really want to know what I thought of the Dunkles? Really? Brown colour, malty, nutty, sweetish tiny bit roasty. That do you?

As I sipped my Dunkles (yes, I really did sip it - you can tell I wasn't 100%) I browsed through my new book ["München und das Bier" by Astrid Assél and Christian Huber, Volk Verlag München, 2009]. It was good quality in every sense. Good quality paper, good quality illustrations, good quality research. Not only about brewers, either. There was stuff on pubs as well. One in particular caught my attention. A place that wasn't in my guide. What made me stop and consider was a photo of its bar. With a wooden barrel sitting atop it. Oh, oh. Things like this get me all excited. I'm just a kid at heart.

A quick check of the map revealed that Spockmeier (for that was the name of the pub) was right on my planned route. That was destination number two settled.

Zum Spöckmeier is an historic pub with a long history. Which stretched right up until the RAF urban-planned it to pieces one night. The ruins were replaced by a new pub around 1950. That didn't last long. In 1969 came the current shiny, but rather dull, building. The interior was totally renovated in 2009. Or re-oldated. Because it's been tarted up in a traditional* way.

If you've been to Germany, and especially Bavaria, you'll know the score. Red flagged floors, pine tables, waitresses in dirndls. They haven't done a bad job (especially with the waitresses). It's a bit like one of those oxymoronic 1960's chocolate adverts, where they claimed the product was both new and traditional and unchanged. The clean, almost Spartan, design make it obviously modern. I've seen much worse.

This wouldn't be Munich if Spöckmeier didn't stretch over a couple of storeys and several rooms. The beer garden in front of the pub has another 150 seats.

Unfortunately the spot where the barrel goes was empty. Maybe they just have gravity-served beer in the evenings. Quite a few other pubs do that. I hope so. I was just about to order a Dunkles when I noticed a sign: "Paulaner Oktoberfest". And they did quarter litres, too. Perfect.

I was a bit surpised when the beer turned up. It was the wrong colour: amber rather than golden. These stupid Germans. Can't they even get the colour of Oktoberfest right? Only having tried the Hacker version, I didn't have much to compare it with. Sweet and a bit milky. Like my Mum drank her tea. Not quite how I like my beer, though.




* "traditional" in this sense means "1850 to 1943".



Hackerhaus
Sendlinger Str. 14,
80331 München (Munich).
Tel. 089 - 2605026
Fax 089 - 2605027
Email: hackerhaus@AOL.com
Home: www.hackerhaus.de



Zum Spöckmeier
Rosenstraße 9,
80331 München.
Tel.: 089 - 268088
Fax: 089 - 2605509
stiftl@spoeckmeier.com
http://www.spoeckmeier.com

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1965 Courage Light Ale

I'm starting to make a habit of this. Giving recipes for beers that still exist. Though I must admit to being a little surprised that Courage Light Ale was still around. Light Ale - the one beer that gives Mild a good run for its money in the cloth cap/old man stakes.

Bottled Light Ale, once a popular mixer with ordinary Bitter in London, seemed on its last legs even when I started drinking. It was one of those types of carbonated bottled beer that sprang up between the wars and started to fade away in the 1960's. Most pubs still sold it in my young days, but no youth would have drunk it.

Never sold on draught, Light Ale is often considered as bottled ordinary Bitter. Yet it might be more accurate to call it bottled Light Mild. What with the modest hopping and use of mild ale malt.

Whitbread brewed something called Light Ale in the 1920's and 1930's which was in a completely different style. For one thing it was dark in colour. It was basically a watered-down version of Dark Mild, with a gravity of just 1028 and less than 3% ABV. Its origins probably lie in the low-gravity Milds produced towards the end of WW I. They never brewed huge quantities of it and, when their standard Mild's gravity dropped to around the 1030 mark at the beginning of WW II, it was discontinued.

The example here wasn't, as you might expect, brewed at Courage's Horsleydown brewery by Tower Bridge. No, this one was brewed at the former Beasley brewery at Plumstead in London. Courage had bought it in 1963 and seemed to have run it as a bottled beer brewery. In addition to Courage Light Ale it also produced Brown Ale, IPA and 3 Star. Not that Courage kept it open long. Beasley's final brew was on Wednesday 3rd March 1965.

One last little point. For those who think every style of beer is currently brewed in the USA, who makes a Light Ale?



Time for Kirsten to take the reins . . . . .


1965 Courage Light Ale

Today you are in for a treat...nah, not really. However you are in for a beer that a lot of you older gents have tried. Courage's light ale. This one beer has a lot of stuff in it that I haven't seen before in a beer which we'll get to. My wondering is how close this recipe, 1965, is true to the one that's brewed today.

Grist and such
Here is where I start to see a lot of different things in a single beer that I either haven't seen or in numerous separate beers. The grist isn't all that different. A couple of pale malts, mild, crystal and flaked maize. Then we get to the 'sugar' additions. This is the first large scale commercial brewery that I've seen actually use enzymatic malt extract. This is also the first 'pale' beer that I've seen use the CDM or Caramelized Dextro-maltose. It was basically used in porters and stouts to lend fullness and mouthfeel to that and added a good bit of dark. The most 'shocking' I would say is the use of No3 invert sugar. For 'lighter' beers I've never seen No3 used and at such a high quantity even (~11%). Would definitely had those lovely dark fruits coming through.

Mash
Nothing fancy here. Very simple mash that they sparged the hell out of. For this recipe I don't think it really matters so I'd just do a simple mash around 153F and split the difference.

Hops
These hops were all that fresh but weren't that old either. Half being over a year and the other being over 2 years.





Tasting notes
Notes of corn, dark fruits and toasted biscuits. Sparklingly bright copper with a hint of fruity sweetness in the middle followed immediately by the drying finish. The hops don't over power by any means but add a rustic, herbal complexity.

Munich (day two)

The big had finally arrived. O-Day. Containing my excitement was hard. No, not hard. Impossible.

We had a table reserved for 13:00 in the Hacker tent. No need to rush to breakfast. After a leisurely stroll along the Isar, we jumped on a Wies'n-bound U-Bahn. The atmosphere was starting to build, even on the platform. Families, all dressed up in traditional gear, jostled around us.

Even knowing the scale of the operation, walking through the gates of the festival was still a shock. Huge. No, bigger than huge. Effing enormous. Beer tents, fried pig stalls and funfair rides seemed to stretch to the horizon. Best not lose Andy. He'd got the tent tickets.

Still having plenty of time, we did a quick tour of the site. Well, the bit of it with the beer tents in. I photographed each and every one. And the drays. Most tents had a horse-drawn dray parked outside. An amusement park with a beer theme. That's what it felt like. Exactly my sort of place.

I was careful not to let any dirndls distract me too long from following Andy's back. Though there were plenty of very distracting dirndls. I wasn't so interested in the lederhosen. Can't think why.

Promptly at one we parked our bums at our table. The waiting staff came over and introduced themselves. This was much more like it, service-wise. The waiter even apologised for taking so long to serve us. All of two minutes. He clearly hadn't visited Hofbräuhaus much if he thought two minutes warranted an apology.

To reserve a table you need to buy vouchers for food and drink. Two litres of beer and one Hendl (half a roast chicken) per person. Fair enough. I planned on getting through more than two litres anyway. "You can use the chicken ticket to buy beer if you want." Andy helpfully pointed out. Sounded like a recipe for success: skip the food and concentrate on beer. What could possibly go wrong.

The beer. I bet you want to know how that tasted, don't you. It was the right colour: a full gold. Good to see they'd got the style right. A proper Helles Märzen, as is traditionally* sold at the festival. Full-bodied, malty and slightly sweet is how it tasted. Again, pretty much on the money. "Süffig" as the Germans would say. Dangerously drinkable is the English expression.

And both drinkable and dangerous it proved to be. I must have getting the hang of those big litre glasses. It was either that or the scandalously short measure. The first litre disappeared in around 15 minutes. The second didn't take much longer. I'd used up all my tokens in hour one.

I could try to describe the Hacker tent. The heaving sea of humanity below us (we were on the balcony). The noise. The oompah band on their podium trying to make themselves heard over it. The endless toing and froing of the waiters and waitresess, dashing from servery to customers and back again. But I'm rubbish at that sort of thing. Instead, here are some photos.










































We were a bit on the sidelines upstairs. A wander around the downstairs soon put that right. People everywhere you looked, many the worse for wear. Yet not an angry glance or raised fist to be seen. It makes you realise that it's the drinker not the drink that causes trouble. We're such a violent lot, us British. You have to spend some time anmongst Germans to realise just how much so.

I awoke in my hotel bedroom at 20:00. With no recollection of having left the festival and walked back. Bag, camera - yes both had safely made it home. Unlike my memory. I fetched a kebab and watched some footie on the telly. But sobriety didn't come before sleep.

Next day, Andy was happy to fill in the missing bits. Seems like I'd made a schoolboy error: forgetting to eat. And here was me thinking I was a semi-pro pisshead. The five litres I'd drunk could explain the memory gaps. Especially with no food to soak it up. I'll know better next time. Like Andy, I'll have a roast pig sandwich on my way to the tent.

All that's left now is me and the debris. The debris where my brain was supposed to be and 8 or 9 hours wandering around Munich trying to fill the gaps in my Munich Pub Guide. You'll find out all about that tomorrow. In the last installment of this travel tale.




* "Traditional" in this case means "for the last 10 years or so".

Munich (day 1)

That's the appetiser polished off. Now time for the main course, pudding, cheese, port, brandy and cigar. Munich.

After a leisurely and relatively late breakfast, we left Oberammergau. Destination Munich. Years had passed since my last visit. I was dead excited. We picked up the motorway, Andy put his foot down and the summer-green fields blurred around us. "Munich here we come", I thought, for no particular reason.

As we threaded our way through central Munich we soon spotted them. People headed for the Wies'n. Queueing at cash machines in lederhosen or dirdls. Wearing funny hats. All headed in one direction.

Our hotel was in a great spot. At the Isar end of the town centre, just around the back if Tal. Handy for Weisses Brauhaus, Augustiner am Platzl and Hofbräuhaus. We were barely out of the van when a group of Americans approached Andy. "Do you know the way to the Hofbräuhaus?" Did the Pope study theology? Of course he knew where it was: just down there, first left then first right.

After a couple of brief exchanges it became clear this wasn't just a random bunch of Americans. They were part of the group we were supposed to be meeting later in . . . . Hofbräuhaus. Which is where we headed after dumping our bags.

One thing became clear on our arrival at Hofbräuhaus. It was a shit place to arrange to meet. Especially on a day like that. We weren't allowed in the main entrance because of overcrowding. Instead, we entered at the side we made a tour of the whole building to get where we wanted to be. Then toured it again looking for four empty seats. Which we eventually found in the Schwemme.

The noise. That struck me. Though close to the band, we could barely hear them over the noise. The noise of human voices. A few speaking, but most shouting. Electric. That's how you usually describe such at atmosphere. Don't know if it really was electric, but it was certainly more than gas. And candles couldn't hold a candle to it.

Foaming litres soon adorned our table. Mine dark, the others pale. Looked great and didn't taste too bad, either. I've had a few pretty duff Hofbräu beers in the past, but this was good. Slightly sweet, nuttily malty as only a Munich Dunkles can be. A litre didn't seem excessive at all.

As we sipped then slurped, Andy went in search. Of the Americans. And his mate Steve. Rather him than me. I'd had enough of forcing my way through the corridors of drinkers. He returned alone. And returned to his beer, from which he took a few slugs.

If you've never been to the Hofbräuhaus it's hard to imagine its scale. Rooms and halls, each containing hundreds, if not thousands of drinkers, stacked upon each other right to the rafters of the the roof. It's a bit like a pub version of the London Underground. At rush hour. More people than you ever want to see, all crammed together.

A second sortie brought Andy more luck. He'd founs the American group. And there was room at their table. Andy guided our little expedition, in single file, through the ravines of drinkers. I brought up the rear. I'd just been observing a particularly good dirndl when I realised I was a lone. Cast adrift in a sea of pissheads. Where the hell were they all?

I stood around for a while, paralysed by confusion. I checked the beer garden. No joy. The corridor. Still no luck. The funny little room next to the beer garden full of teenagers. Not there, either. Where could they have gone? They couldn't be on the outside balcony, could they? As I approached the steps I heard a frantic banging on the window. It was Andy.

They were sitting right next to the kitchen. That provided entertainment in itself. A conveyor belt brought a never-ending succession of plates to the pickup-point, where waiters queued. A ceaseless flow of Schweinehaxe and Weisswurst was loaded onto long trays and whisked away. Cooking on a truly industrial scale.

They must have said something to the waiter. The Americans. Something he didn't like. Because he didn't intend serving us any more beer. Bugger. My glass was empty. And our seats cramped. Andy decided we should progress onwards and upwards. Literally. To the ballroom where Steve had seats. The service surely couldn't be any worse. Could it?

As it turned out, yes it could. Much, much worse. The Long Wait. That's what I called it. The trauma will stay with me forever, clinging like an overenthusiastic fart.

We got our order in quickly enough. Three Helles one Dunkles. Our waitress brought the three Helles then buggered off. The Dunkles was for me.

We reminded her about the missing Dunkles after 10 minutes. And 20. And 30. And 40. Even after 50 minutes. When an hour had passed, Andy went to the bar, found another waitress and came back with two litres of Dunkles. I grabbed both. Lots of catching up to do.

We did persuade our waitress to bring us some food. After about 90 minutes. I had a pair of Weisswurst. Though I wasn't quite in the mood to relish them as much as I should have. After all the effing waiting.

The original plan had been to walk to the Englischer Garten and have a beer in a garden there. But no-one could be arsed, so we went to the Hofgarten instead. It was very pelasant there. Sunlight dappling through the trees. A wooden barrel glugging out glasses of beer. And it would have been a great place to relax and wind down, away from the hordes of the Hofbräuhaus. If anyone had effing served us. We gave up after 15 minutes.

Augustiner Großgastätte is, despite its tongue-twisting name, a favourite of mine. Didn't take much persuading to drop by there with Andy and Steve. If only every high street had a pub as good.

Finally, the beers came quickly and kept coming. Out of the wood. I'd show you a picture of the barrel. But two in a row is just too much. Even of something as beautiful as a wooden barrel. Or the Edelstoff that issued from it. Mmmm. Got to love that Augustiner.

It was time to move on. Andy suggested Der Pschorr on Viktualienmarkt. Sounded like a good idea. Especially as he said they had gravity-served beer. Last time I was in Munich, only Augustiner of the local breweries still delivered beer in oak barrels. Not any more.

Most anywhere else in the world Der Pschorr would count as enormous. In Munich, it's just big. It looks like they're taken over what used to be a covered market as a cavernous extension to the main pub premises. Themselves substantial enough. A giant TV screen was showing a Bayern München game. We passed on that and sat in the main bar. In sight of the barrel. As that was dispensing Helles, Helles it was.

Don't expect any tasting notes. It was far too late in the day for any of that bollocks. Now we had service, it was time for a few carefree pints. And carefree they were, as the next was never far behind. The 50-litre wooden barrels didn't last long. Every twenty minutes it was replaced by a fresh one. And the beautiful noise of a tap being hammered home reverberated around the room. Happy times.

But we weren't ausgedrunken. We considered the Paulaner tent amongst the stalls of the outdoor market, until we saw the ashtrays. Seems the smoking ban doesn't apply to tents in Germany. As it was on our way home, Weisses Brauhaus seemed like a good idea. So that's where we went. There was a queue outside. One out, one in was the door policy. No Hofbräuhaus-style crowds inside here. But there was a decent churn, so we were soon seated.

Weisses Brauhaus seems to employ exclusively grannies as waitresses. It's very homely and reassuring. Soon our granny had brought me an Eisbock and the world was looking a better place. After a second, it was becoming positively heavenly.

Back at the hotel, I realised I'd forgotten to have any tea. I asked the lady at the desk if they had any food. I thought I'd asked for a sandwich. What I got was a dry roll. It did the job. At least until breakfast.

And so ended my first day in Munich. Next was the main event: Oktoberfest. Would my throat get as parched as in Hofbräuhaus? Would I remember to eat? Find out tomorrow in the next installment.



Hofbräuhaus
Am Platzl 9,
80331 München.
Tel. 089 - 290 1360
Fax: 089 - 227 586
E-mail: webmaster@hofbraeuhaus.de
http://www.hofbraeuhaus.de/


Augustiner Großgaststätte
Neuhauserstr 27,
80331 München
Tel. 089 - 231 83257
Fax: 089 - 260 5379
Website: http://www.augustiner-restaurant.com/


Der Pschorr
Viktualienmarkt 15,
80331 München.
Tel. +49 (0)89 / 5 18 18 500
Fax: +49 (0)89 / 5 18 18 545
E-Mail: info@der-pschorr.de
http://www.derpschorr.de


Weisses Bräuhaus
Tal 7,
80331 München.
Tel. 089 - 299 875
Fax: 089 - 290 13815
http://www.weisses-brauhaus.de/

Whitbread logs - the handwritten years

Old Whitbread logs. What a pain in the arse they are. Two sheets of scribbled numbers. And a couple of words. Three to be precise. The day of the week, "Hops" and "Started". Quite a challenge for the amateur historian.

The logs are surprisingly tatty. Especially considering Whitbread were one of the largest breweries in the world and had been for getting on a century. They're just like a kid's exercise book, with a few pre-printed red lines. Yet tjhey're still full of useful information. If you can read them.

It's taken me a while but I think I've cracked most of it. Yesterday I worked out where the boil details are. "Andrew, guess what I worked out today." "It's not Barclay Perkins again is it Dad?" "No." "Go on then." "I've found the boil times on Whitbread logs." "Daaaaaad." If my family took more interest in brewing records, I wouldn't have to bother with this blog. I need to have someone to tell my discoveries to.

Generous as I am, I'll explain them to you. At least the bits I'm sure of. Let's start with sheet 1:

The top line is easy - gyle number, date, air temperature.

80 Qrs - that's the malt bill, 80 quarters of malt.

Hops 342 Brunwk 68
304 Hayes 70

- the hops, 342 lbs Brunswick, 1868 crop; 304 lbs Hayes 1870 crop

Now it starts to get cryptic. These are the mashing details.

172 ---- the strike heat

2 @ F to 103 &
2 @ 103 to 115 200º

That looks like the water for the mash. They seem to be measuring the water volume by means of a dip. "F" I guess to mean full. But that's just a guess. No idea what 200º means.

9 M M Std
10 1/2 TS

9 means 9 am. M M Std I interpret as Mash Mash Stood.
10 1/2 means 10:30. TS is taps set, i.e. when they started drawing off wort. Which means the mash and standing time was an 90 minutes.

153. 34.2 - 36.4

153 is the temperature of the wort when it began to be drawn off. 34.2 is the gravity of the first wort drawn off, 36.4 the gravity of the last wort.

12 1/4 . 40 . 34.2
1 3/4 . 37 1/2 . 36.2

12 1/4 time of start of boil, 12:15, 40 is the dip at start of the boil, 34.2 (1095) the gravity.
1 3/4 time of start of boil, 13:45, 37 1/2 is the dip at start of the boil, 36.2 (1100) the gravity.

Next are the sparge details.

184 ----

Heat of sparge water.

2 @ F to 78. 7.6

The first part is the water for the sparge. The 7.6 is a gravity reading. Not sure when that would have been taken.

3 20 54. 12.6
5 20 50 . 13.6

These are the details for the second boil, which started at 15:20 and ended at 17:20. The gravity at the start of the boil was 12.6 (1035) at the end 13.6 (1038).

Now on to the next column.

242

XL

257


XL is the beer being brewed. 242 is I think the gyle from whose yeast was used for this brew. 257 a gyle where this brews yeast was used.

Now for sheet 2. That's an easy one.

The first column has the gyles.

100 . 37.9 3790
156. 14.6 2277
----------------
256. 23.7 6067
----------------
100. 4.5 450
-----
6517
-----

81.4
-----

The first two lines are the gyles blended to produce the final wort. The first numberis the volume in barrels, the second the gravity and third the number of gravity points. The third line just shows the blend wort. The fourth line is a return wort. 6517 is the total number of gravity points and 81.4 the yield per quarter of malt.

Now on to the second column.

Tanks.

That seems pretty self-explanatory. Must refer to conditioing tanks.

Started 15th
---- 7.8 -----

15th means 15th of March (5 days after it was brewed). This gives the starting gravity. "Starting" a beer meant laying down to mature. So this originally would have meant the gravity at time of vatting. For Milds it's probably close to the racking gravity. 7.8 is 1022.

No 7 . 8 9 . 10

The numbers of the fermenting vessels used.

360	50	60	37.9
---	78	60	14.6
360	128	60	23.7

These are the details of each finished gyle. The first two lines refer to the gyles being blended, the last toi the combined gyle.

360 = pounds of yeast pitched.
50 = volume in barrels.
60 = temperture of wort
37.9 = gravity of wort (1105)

And that's it. Easy-peasy, isn't it?

The evils of coloured malt

Here's on odd passage on the evils of coloured malt

"Now as to the Complexion or Colour of Mault, White is the best because most Natural, and therefore in all Preparations and Operations you ought, as near as possible you can, to maintain the Natural Complexion of the thing, for the tincture ariseth, and proceeds from the fine Spirits and essential Virtues; therefore, if in your order of making Mault you alter and change the Colour, you then also change its Virtues, and make the Drink of another Nature and Operation; for all redness, or high colour in Drink proceeds from some violence done to the fine Spirits and fine Virtues in the preparation, for the Colour is a stranger to the Nature of that Grain, and it shows that the fierce Spirits and hot Vapours of the Fire have as it were transmitted or changed the mild friendly, soft Virtues and Qualities of the Mault, into its own fiery Nature; force not Nature therefore out of her way, nor change the Form, for then the inward life and good Qualities of that thing are in danger, for the fierce raging Spirits of the Fire, and Essences thereof, do never depart from such parched high dried Mault, but do always remain, from whence the Drink made thereof receives its high bloody Colour, which most ignorant People cry up and admire as a Virtue of good Quality, but the contrary is to be understood, and nothing in Mault is a greater Vice or Evil, and the Drink made thereof, together with its long Boyling with Hops, do seldom fail to wound the Health of the Drinkers thereof; its natural Operation in the Body, is to heat the Blood, destroying the Appetite, obstructs the Stomach, sending gross dulling Fumes into the Head. Therefore if you have Wisdom and understanding of Nature, remember, that the nearer you come to Nature, and the more you imitate her, the nearer you are to the Truth."
[Thomas Tryon, The Art of Brewing, 1691]

Took things seriously in the old days, didn't they?

American hops

Just a small aside. Mostly so I don't forget. I'm trudging my way through Whitbread's Ale logs for my Scottish vs English comparison and just noticed something.

Whitbread's old logs are a right royal pain in the bum. They're just exercise books full of scribbles. The oldest ones are particularly informative about ingredients. "55 qrs" and "Hops 515" is as much as you get. (It's 55 quarters of malt for every brew. Must have been the mash tun capacity.)

Then in 1850, they get more detailed. OK, it still just says "55 qrs" without further explanation. But the different hops are specified. And there it is. The earliest mention of I've found of American hops in a British beer.

Here it is, in case you don't believe me:


The beer in question is X Ale. Whitbread's entry-level Mild. With a gravity of just 1074, it must have just been intended for children.

Now "American" is pretty vague. Exactly what type of hops would they have been and where would they have been grown? Given the date, the west coast seems an unlikely source. Which leaves upstate New York, where the USA's hop-growing activities were first concentrated.

That's it. No revolutionary theories this time. Just an historical observation.

Oberammergau

Am I still on day one? Telling the tale is taking longer than living the life.

From Ettal it's just a couple of minutes drive to Oberammergau. Not that I remember any of it. Doubtless it was the usual misty peaks and gloomy forests. If you've seen the pictures in the previous two posts, you'll have some idea. No need to strain my powers of imagination for you.

We stopped in exactly my sort of place: a pub. Called Zum Stern. A typical country inn, with a slightly kitsch restaurant and comfortable rooms. Well mine was comfortable, which is all that really matters. Not that I did much in it other than sleep. I don't like to waste my Germany time sitting indoors.

I was soon in the mood for another beer and went for a wander through town. It bears the scars of mass tourism. The normal shops struggle to find room amongst the touters of tat. In particular religious tat. Crucifixes, saint statues, that sort of thing. Which is a bit of a contrast with the sex and dope souvenirs that fill central Amsterdam. Thankfully there are a few pubs, too.

Whilst driving around I'd noticed that pretty much every town and village had a boozer called Zum Post or Zum Alten Post. Oberammergau was no exception. It seemed like a good place to start.

The setting was delightful. The mountains a stunning backdrop to the painted houses of the town. I sat at a table outside and waited. Then waited a bit more. A few spots of rain fell. I hadn't bothered bringing my coat. Some more waiting followed, with an occasional raindrop. After 10 minutes, a waitress finally drifted by and took my order. Another Ettaler Dunkles seemed a good idea. It wasn't as good as a t the brewery tap. A definite touch of diacetyl. Too much.

We're going to dip back down into darkness now. I don't even have photos to shine a light into the obscurity of memory of the rest of the day. I know I went back to Zum Stern and ate my tea. No idea what it was. Something meaty and German, no doubt. Washed down with Hasen-bräu. Probably their Dunkles. (Hang on. I've just checked and they don't seem to brew a Dunkles. It must have been something else I drank.) I'd never had any beers from Hasen-bräu before. It's a shame I have absolutely no recollection - nor notes - of how it tasted.

By this time I was starting to flag. It was evening 8 pm and I'd been up since 5 am. And drinking most of the time inbetween. Just as well I'd abstained on the flight, otherwise I might have been in trouble. That's my excuse for just having a single beer in Zum Stern. But however tired I was, I didn't intend missing Oberammergau's only brewery, Maxbräu. Andy and I headed down there after eating.

It wasn't far. Just a couple of hundred metres. Located in a posh hotel, Maxbräu is sadly typical of modern German brewpubs. Quite flash, with impressive shiny copper kettles, but more emphasis on the food than the beer. Schickimicki is how Andy described it. He was right. We both had Helles. Typically (again) it was too cloudy and too green. That I can remember. We only stayed for the one.

And that's it. Finally at the end of day. Doubtless it's tried your patience as much the day itself tested my liver. Next, it's on to Munich for some real boozing. And my longest ever wait for a beer.




Gasthaus Zum Stern
Dorfstr. 33,
82487 Oberammergau.
Tel.: (+49) (0)8822 - 867
Fax: (+49) (0)8822 -7027
Email: gasthausstern.oberammergau@t-online.de
http://www.gasthaus-stern-ogau.de.vu/


Hotel Alte Post
Dorftstraße 19,
82487 Oberammergau.
Tel.: 0 88 22 / 91 0-0
FAX: 0 88 22 / 91 0- 100
Email: info@altepost.com
http://www.altepost.com/



Hasen-Bräu
Unterer Talweg 87.
86179 Augsburg
Telefon: (0821) 3299 - 0
http://www.hasen-braeu.de



Ammergauer Maxbräu
Ettaler Straße 5,
82487 Oberammergau.
Tel.: +49 08822- 948740
Email: hotel@maximilian-oberammergau.de
http://www.maximilian-oberammergau.de

Austria - Ettal

I'll apologise in advance. This post is going to be vague. Very vague. My recollections of this part of the day are as misty as the mountains in which I spent it.

The day was still young when we left Neuschwannstein. Barely past lunch. And already five beers down. Things were going perfectly.

We already right up against the Austrian border. Due to obstructing mountains, those pesky things, the quickest way to Ettal (our next scheduled stop) was through Austria. Borders aren't what they once were. If they hadn't put a sign there saying "Republik Österreich", you wouldn't notice it. Especially as the houses and mountains are pretty much identical to those in Bavaria.

Rather than skirting along the side of the Alps, we were now in amongst them. A succession of jagged, angular peaks, their wooded slopes scarred by grey slashes of rubble where flash floods had struck. A beautiful but slightly scary landscape.

As we hugged a lake, still as glass, mountains jostling around its stony shore, something stirred within me. Not wonder, not awe, not sadness. I needed a wee. Those five half litres had caught up with me. "Could we stop at a pub, please? I need a waz."

Andy pulled us into a lakeside hostel and I went to do the necessary. Once the relief of relieving my bladder had kicked in, a thought popped into my head. Not a particularly original one. In fact, it's semi-permanently present in my brain. I could sneak in a quick beer. It was only polite, after all, to buy something, having used their bog.

"Ein kleines Bier, bitte." Zipfer, the sign outside said. So Zipfer Märzen, I guess. I knocked it back in two gulps. Didn't want to keep the others waiting. I'm so considerate. A bit fizzy, the beer. And bland, but with a slightly nasty edge. But, hey, it's years since I was last in Austria. No time to be too picky.

[The Eu is far from perfect. But it has provided some benefits. Lack of border controls. And a common currency (for most). Just ten years ago my Austrian beer escapade would have been far trickier. The chances of me having Schillings in my pocket to purchase a quick beer would have been pretty slim. Thank you EU for facilitating my alcoholism.]

Continuing along between the mountains, we popped back into Bavaria. That must have been my shortest ever stay in a country. At least I got a beer in.

This the bit I've already apologised for. The misty as the mountains part. Thank god for photographs, is all I can say. Without the snaps, all would be darkness.

"Dem Himmel so nah". That's Ettal's slogan. Can't really argue with that, given their location in the Alps. And the yumminess of their beer. Many sing the praises of Andechs. I prefer Ettaler. Lovely, lovely stuff. Especially their Curator Doppelbock and Kloster Dunkel.

We stopped at some pub in Ettal. Just wait while I scan the photos to see if I can find its name. Aah. It was the Ettaler Kloster Bräustüberl. So sort of their brewery tap. It's a huge place, hotel as well as pub. Quite nice, if rather posher than my taste. All pine and tablecloths. I only saw it while toilet-bound. We sat in the beer garden outside.

Unfortunately, they didn't have the Doppelbock. I probably should say fortunately, they didn't have the Doppelbock. A session Dunkles was more apt, given the amount I'd already knocked back. I'd tell you how the Dunkles tasted, except I took no notes, my memory is shot and cameras can't record flavour, worse luck. I'm sure it was nice. It always is.

This is all taking longer than anticipated. The telling of my travel tales. I'm still not at the end of day one. Almost. Just one more post. About Oberammergau. Will I continue my international pub crawl or just collapse in the gutter? Find out tomorrow.




Klosterhotel "Ludwig der Bayer"
Kaiser-Ludwig-Platz 10-12,
82488 Ettal.
Tel.: 08822 - 9150
rezeption@ludwig-der-bayer.de
http://www.ludwig-der-bayer.de

Scotland vs England

I've been quiet about Scottish beer for a while. There's a reason. And it's not laziness. Or running out of ideas. Quite the contrary.

Much of what's been written about Scottish beer seems dubious. Or based on supposition rather than real evidence. So I've set myself this aim: to see if I can identify any quantifiable difference between Scottish and English beers. Simple enough.

Though the idea is simple, making such a comparison is trickier. The couple of little tables comparing the odd Scottish beer with a few English beers I've posted really don't do the job. A much broader comparison is needed. Hundreds of beers. That's what I should compare. From multiple breweries. Over a period of 100 years.

It just so happens that I have the necessary information. Just not in a usable form. So I've taken on another ridiculously ambitious project. Harvesting the details from thousands of brewing records and putting them into a spreadsheet. OG, FG, hopping rate, pitching temperature and boil time. It's a lot of work. Far more than any sane person would take on. But who said I was sane?

It's going to take a while. I don't want to start making half-arsed claims before I have the facts. So you'll have to be patient. But it'll be worth the wait. Finally the truth about Scottish beer.

Neuschwannstein

Hardly begun my reports and already I've been lying to you. I promised these would be brief. Yet In my last I didn't manage to get past pub number one. Sorry. I'll try to speed up.

After my Doppelbock breakfast I was in high spirits. The minibus bumped along a country road, flat farmland to our right, misty mountains rearing suddenly to our left. The occasional onion-domed church sat lonely amongst the fields. Who could its congregation be?

We stopped at a seemingly random point. Then Andy pointed out the white fantasy castle of Neuschwannstein. It was photo opportunity time. Snaps snapped we bumbled into the village at the foot of the castle. I say village. Really it's a collection of hotels, restaurants and tack shops.

Surprisingly, this tourist hell had a fairly decent pub. The Schlossbräustüberl. Painted a jolly bright yellow, it had a very baronial interior. All stained glass and vaults. But I only saw all that on the way to the bog. We sat outside in the beer garden.

Unsurprisngly, Schlossbräustüberl sells König Ludwig Dunkel. Made at the brewery owned by a descendant of mad King Ludwig (who built Neuschwannstein). The beer garden is self service. One hatch for food, another for drinks. The bloke in charge of the booze had clearly made a bad career decision. His people skills weren't so much deficient as totally absent. Scowling and growling, he served customers with bad grace and not even perfunctory politeness.

"A Dunkles and an Obstler, please." The barman looked at me as if I'd asked for a chew on one of his testicles, but served me anyway. Which is more than he'd done for the poor Italian in front of me, whose coffee he'd poured down the sink when he dared to ask for it in a paper cup.

The Dunkles, though a bit fizzy, was still chewy fun. And went well with my pig sandwich. The Germany I love: pork and beer in perfect harmony. From my seat, both castles were in view. Showy Neuschwannstein and a garish yellow thing where the Bavarian royals actually lived. (At least that's what Andy told me. He usually knows what he's talking about.)

Andy and me were the nearest things to Germans in the beer garden. Italians and Japanese were in the majority. The latter looked somehow uneasy. What was it? Confusion or disorientation? I must go to Japan to emanate European confusion at their sights.

I stayed in the beer garden while the others did something or other vaguely cultural. I can't remember what. Mr. Grumpy was more friendly when I went for a refill. This time he only looked as if I'd stolen his wallet and shagged his wife. Given his character, he'd certainly chosen the right location to work. He'd lose his job in five minutes anywhere customers visited more than once a lifetime.

There. That wasn't too long, was it? Then again, still only one more pub covered. Still five more to go just on day one. But don't worry too much. My recollections of the latter part of the day are very vague. I doubt I'll be able to drag more than a paragraph out of events after 5 pm.



Schlossbräustüberl,
Alpseestrasse 24,
Hohenschwangau.

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1962 Harp Lager

I've a peculiar fascination with British Lager. Perhaps because it's been so neglected by beer writers.

Barclay Perkins made their first experiments in Lager brewing during WW I. By the 1930's, they'd a range of three: Export, Draught and Dark. Though they put a great deal of effort into their Lager - building a special brewhouse, employing a Danish lager brewer, advertising - it never sold in huge quantities.

When Courage, which had taken over Barclay Perkins in the 1950's, became involved in the Harp consortium, it was logical to brew it on the company's only specialist Lager plant. Which spelled doom for Barclay's London Lager as a brand.

(The Harp Lager consortium was formed in 1961 by Guinness, Courage, Scottish & Newcastle and Bass jointly. Harp became the main draught Lager for all four companies and was produced in a variety of their breweries. Courage left the consortium in 1979.)

It's a fascinating period in the development of British Lager, when companies were working out which brands to go with. Of course, Courage would later pull out of Harp and mess around with various Lagers of its own. Before dissolving away into nothing, leaving just a couple of wandering Ale brands behind.



Now I'll let Kristen do his technical thing . . . .


1962 Harp Lager

OK guys here is a VERY special Let's Brew recipe. Its the first brewing of Harp's Lager by Barclay Perkins. Thurs Nov 8th 1962. Its such a wonderful log as there are so many little notes all over it. Things like:

'Steam pipe by old M.T. sprang a leak at approx 5.10am. Mash able to continue as normal'

'Very good conversion'

'Very good break'

'Post ferment 211 bbls 32 gals @ 1.0092'

All wonderfully informative which makes a lot of sense since its the first time they brewed it. Ron sent me this one a while ago and I wanted to make sure I had a change to make it before I wrote about it. Its a very simple recipe with a touch of colorant added.

Grist and such
They don't indicate there is any pils malt used as they do in most other logs and use the pale malts they use in other beers of the time. Two simple English pale malts with a very hefty dose of flaked maize chucked in for good measure (~18%). This lends the beer to be very pale...around 5 EBC or so. The brewer wrote in big red pen and underlined '14lb caramel color added to copper'. He then goes on to state 'Colour 13 (EBC), 11 after fermentation.' This is the first time I've seen any
mention of the color after fermentation. All really neat stuff. This is also one of the first time I've seen a brewer blatantly indicated the losses from pre to post-fermentation.

Mash
The mash is very interesting here. They split the grain and do two different mashes on it. The first, with no flaked maize, goes through a three step standard process thats very close to Rocheforts schedule. Then it takes a turn and they boil the whole thing for 20min. The second mash is a two step and then a mash out. They also underlet which the first doesn't and sparge the hell out of it.

Hops
These hops are very fresh and very much not English. One can see them trying to get a little of the hop character of continental pils-type beers using 50:50 Hallertauer and Saaz hops. At 17bu this isn't any where near the traditional pils, much more like the American lagers.





Tasting notes
Touches of biscuit and bready malt surrounded by a try 'corny' aroma thats quite rich. Floral and spicy Saaz and Hallertauer are just enough to lend some complexity to the nose. The finish is dry but not overly being just dry enough to accentuate the little 17bu of bitterness. All in all, its ok . . . but that's the whole point about this beer right!?