Friday, 14 July 2017

Danziger Jopenbier

Time for a personal favourite of mine, the crazy Danziger Jopenbier.

It’s unusual in several respects, for a German beer. For a start it’s spontaneously fermented, a technique that mostly died out in Germany a couple of centuries earlier. Then there’s the ridiculously high OG and equally ridiculously high FG. Not to mention the organism that performed the fermentation.

And on that latter point Olberg has made things much clearer. I’ve read descriptions of a slime forming on the top of the beer. Olberg’s explanation of what was doing the fermenting explains that observation.

Off with the paraphrase.

Jopenbier can be considered a type of hopped malt drink. The mashing method employed doesn’t really matter that much. So for reasons of economy a short mashing scheme is usually employed. Per 1500 kg malt 25 to 30 pounds of hops are used. The wort is left to cool in the cooler and then run into fermenting tuns, which hold between one and two barrels. The tuns are 1 to 2 metres tall and built much narrower than usual. The wort remains in the tuns until after about three weeks it begins to ferment all on its own as aa result of spores that have fallen into it. No great value is placed on cleanliness or cleaning in the fermentation cellar, only the cellar floor is kept clean. Though naturally the cellar is kept dry and well ventilated. If I’m not mistaken the spontaneous fermentation is caused by Penicilium glaubum though Saccharomyces Beylink is also present. The fermentation is very violent which is why the tuns are kept closed with the exception of a vent under which a vessel is placed to catch overflowing liquid. When fermentation is complete the tuns are uncovered and the beer left to rest until it is shipped. Before it is filled into the smallest transport casks it is passed through filter sacks. The alcohol content is 3.5% and the acidity (measured in acetic acid) is 0.95%.
Source: Olberg, Johannes (1927) Danziger Jopenbier in Moderne Braumethoden, pp 65-66, A. Hartleben, Wien & Leipzig.

The penicillin will explain the mould, I guess. Unfortunately a search for that particular type threw up nothing whatsoever. It’s probably something that has changed its scientific name over the years. The same with the Saccharomyces – a total blank. Please let me know if you have any idea what they might be.

Interesting that it was fermented in tall narrow vessels. And counterintuitive. Surely if you’re relying on shit dropping into the wort to ferment it you’d want as large a surface area as possible?

That level of acetic acid would result in a pretty sour beer. Though with that amount of residual sweetness, it was probably barely noticeable. That will be 3.5% ABW, by the way.

Here’s the only analysis of Danziger Jopenbier I have:

Danziger Jopenbier
Year Brewer OG FG ABW ABV App. Atten-uation
1906 Unknown 1230.43 1195 3.52 4.40 13.49%
Source:
"Jahresbericht über die Leistungen der chemischen Technologie (1907)", 1907, pages 352 - 353. 


The FG is higher than the highest OG I’ve ever seen for a UK-brewed beer. Though the ABV is high enough for Jopenbier to count as an alcoholic drink, Doubt anyone could drink enough of the treacle to get pissed, mind.

Thursday, 13 July 2017

Macbeth in Sheffield

I’m not up that early. I said I’d be in Sheffield about one. It’s going to be a bit later than that.

I pick up a Cornish nasty and a cheese and onion sandwich in Piccadilly station. I would get a couple of bacon baps from Greggs, but, as I discovered in Edinburgh a couple of weeks ago, they don’t do them after eleven. Lunacy. The lust for bacon doesn’t end before lunch. It lasts all day. Why do some places serve breakfast all day?


It’s lovely ride through the Pennines. And the train doesn’t stink. Sheep stud the verdant pastures. Cliffs rear and stone farmhouses skulk sullenly in the dales. Amazingly, the sun is shining. Perfect. One of the things I really miss is the northern countryside. The wild bits. Open moorland scoured by wind and rain. Gets me all emotional just imagining it.

I roll into Sheffield around 12:30. When was I last here? At least 20 years ago, possibly more. How many times have I been here before? Twice, no, three times. Once that weird Newark CAMRA bus trip where I came down from Leeds by train then hitched a ride in the bus back to Newark.

Now I think about it, all the Newark CAMRA trips I went on were crazy. Like the one to Batemans. Where Chris Holmes cancelled at the last minute and my brother had to drive the minibus, even though he was too young. (That tells you how long ago this was.) The tour was brilliant and finished with a great buffet. It was the journey back that was insane. But I’ll tell you about that another time. I’m straying too far off topic.


Do you remember me telling you how unaccustomed to hills I am? And how unappreciative, other than as a scenic backdrop to my train journeys. Like many Yorkshire towns, Sheffield is hilly. Very hilly. And the railway station is in a valley. Everywhere is uphill. Including my hotel.

Luckily, my room is ready this time. I dump my shit and jump in a cab. My destination is Hop Hideout, a beer shop where I’m be speaking this evening. That’s nice. It’s next door to a pub with a Tennant’s sign.


My contact is Jules. I ask the man standing behind the counter if he’s Jules. “No, I’m not. That’s Jules.” He says pointing at a young woman. That’s confusing. All through our email contact I’d assumed Jules was a man. How wrong I was.

Soon I’ve a beer in my hand and we’re chatting affably away. This is one of the modern type of offie where they also have an on-licence. Pretty sure they would never have stood for this when I were a lad. It’s pretty compact, with just a single table and a tiny bar counter.

I can’t linger long. We’ve an appointment at nearby Abbeydale Brewery. Where they’re brewing one of my William Younger recipes (1868 No. 1 Ale, in case you’re wondering). If we rush we can get there before they’re done. Luckily it’s not a long walk.


When we arrive the brewer, clad in the traditional wellies and beard, is fiddling around with some spent hops. The brew, it seems, has gone well. It’s a pretty long-term project. The beer will be aged in a variety of barrels and be ready for next year’s Sheffield Beer Week in March. Which I plan attending. If only to drink that beer.

There’s an awful lot of brewery crammed into a rather small space. With more new fermenters recently squeezed in. They must be doing reasonably well.

Back at the shop, there’s time for a few more beers and pie and peas before I give my talk to a small but interested audience. The small and interested perhaps explaining why it takes three hours rather than the usual one. I don’t mind. I’m happy to keep talking as long as anyone is listening. Actually, it doesn’t even matter if anyone is listening. I love talking about beer.

The attendees – all members of a homebrew club – have brought along beers brewed using recipes in my new Scotland book (available for purchase here). Wettening my dusty words. And dusty throat, too.

When the words have finally dried up, Will, Jules’ partner in both senses of the word, drives us back into town and drops me off at my hotel.

The bar is still open. I nip in for a quick nightcap. There’s an odd crowd. Mostly fifty-somethings dressed up to the nines. I feel rather scruffy. A bumbling barman makes ordering drinks a longwinded procedure. They don’t accept cash, which is OK by me. I can charge it to my room. One less receipt to drive Dolores crazy.

Another busy day shunts me into slumber’s soft caress. I sleep well.




Hop Hideout
448 Abbeydale Rd,
Sheffield S7 1FR.
http://www.hophideout.co.uk/


Abbeydale Brewery
8 Aizlewood Rd,
Sheffield S8 0YX.
Tel: +44 114 281 2712
http://www.abbeydalebrewery.co.uk/





Buy my new Scottish book. It's why was in England.




Wednesday, 12 July 2017

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1913 Boddington CC

Boddington had some confusing names for their beers. B, BB and CC. No idea what they stand for. The first two are Mild Ales, the last one a Strong Ale.

Is it connected with the legendary C Ale, a type of Strong ale specific to Manchester? I’ve no clue, if I’m being honest. It would be nice to think that there is, but why would you go from two C’s to one? The implication would be that it was weaker. Because that’s how beer naming usually went. And that’s not normally the impression you’d want to give with a Strong Ale.

Boddington’s CC was brewed until WW II, but discontinued, never to return, in 1941. They did brew a Strong Ale after WW II, but that was simply called SA in the brew house. I think you can guess what the initials stood for.

The recipe is classic 20th century English: pale malt, flaked maize, sugar and colouring. It strikes me that breweries, especially smaller ones like Boddington, tried to use as few types of malt as possible. In the run up to WW I, Boddington only used two: pale and black. The latter being used in tiny quantities and only in Stout.

As you may have noticed, this beer is quite heavily hopped. To be honest, other than the Cluster, the varieties are a guess. All that’s listed is the name of the grower, not even the region where they were grown. Feel free to substitute them.

While I’m mentioning guesses, the sugar is, too. The logs reveal nothing about the sugar type at all. It could be anything, but invert sugar is the most likely. As I’m pretty sure this beer was dark, No. 3 invert is the obvious choice.


1913 Boddington CC
pale malt 11.50 lb 86.34%
flaked maize 0.75 lb 5.63%
caramel 0.07 lb 0.53%
No. 3 invert sugar 1.00 lb 7.51%
Cluster 145 mins 0.75 oz
Fuggles 90 mins 1.00 oz
Fuggles 60 mins 0.50 oz
Fuggles 30 mins 0.50 oz
Goldings dry hops 0.50 oz
OG 1062
FG 1020
ABV 5.56
Apparent attenuation 67.74%
IBU 75
SRM 20
Mash at 158º F
Sparge at 168º F
Boil time 165 minutes
pitching temp 61.5º F
Yeast Wyeast 1318 London ale III (Boddingtons)

Tuesday, 11 July 2017

Kölsch obergärig (Deutsch-Pilsener)

Now here’s something I’m dead excited about. A description of Kölsch from relatively early in the style’s life.

Kölsch only seems to have coalesced into a definite, definable style around 1900. In the late 19th century top-fermenting brewers in various part of the Rhineland had started brewing beers which were intended to mimic some of the qualities of the new-fangled Lager beers that were flooding the region. Initially these were lumped together as Rheinisches Bitterbier. They had a few features in common, including heavy hopping and a lengthy lagering. Eventually both Düsseldorf and Cologne developed their own specific styles.

But that’s enough from me. Let’s see what Olberg has to say. This is my paraphrasing of his chapter on Kölsch.

Kölsch is a gold-coloured, thirst-quenching, not too heavy, easily-digestible beer that is the national drink of Cologne.

It is usually brewed using the kettle mash process, or by boiling a thick mash once or twice.  Though to save time and fuel mostly a kettle mash is employed, with perhaps one thick mash.

For example, mashing in is at 7 AM at a temperature of 35º C, the mash is left to brew until 7:30 and then the temperature  raised slowly to 50º C at 8:30 and 70º C at 9:30. The mash is left at this temperature for saccharification (30 to 40 minutes, make an iodine test.). If full saccharification has occurred, raise it to the mashout temperature of 76º C. The lauter tun must be well warmed up beforehand.

Or after saccharification of the mash, about a third is left in the lauter tun while the other two-thirds is brought to the boil in the kettle and returned to the lauter tun to mash out at 76ºC.
Source: Olberg, Johannes (1927) Kölsch obergärig in Moderne Braumethoden, pp 64-65, A. Hartleben, Wien & Leipzig.

So a fairly simple mashing scheme with optionally a single decoction. Next boiling.

A third of the hops are added as the wort is being run into the copper, another third after one hour of boiling and the last third 40 minutes before turning out the kettle. The boil lasts two hours. Usually a small quantity of the hops, 6 to 8 %, are added to the kettle just before emptying it, when the steam has already disappeared. OG is 11 to 12º Balling.
Source: Olberg, Johannes (1927) Kölsch obergärig in Moderne Braumethoden, pp 64-65, A. Hartleben, Wien & Leipzig.

Interesting that there were three hop additions, plus a very, very late on. It all sound very modern, especially that last, very late one.

Here’s how the fermentation went:

The wort is cooled to 10º C and pitched with 1 litre of yeast per 50 kg of malt. The tun fermentation lasts 5 days. The bier is transferred to lagering vessels just like Lagerbier and from this point on is handled and lagered cold in exactly the same way. The lagering vessels are filled to the top and only loosely bunged. After 5 to 6 weeks the beer, without being bunged, can be filtered and sent out to customers.
Source: Olberg, Johannes (1927) Kölsch obergärig in Moderne Braumethoden, pp 64-65, A. Hartleben, Wien & Leipzig.

That’s a pretty cool fermentation, followed by a fairly classic lagering, except for not being bunged. As they were filtering the beer anyway, they seem to have not bothered with the final stage of lagering where, after the bung has been tightly sealed the beer naturally carbonates and clarifies itself. It sounds to me like they must have been force carbonating the beer after filtration. With the bung open, it wouldn’t carbonate itself.

The hopping rate in the kettle is 65 pounds of Lagerbier hops for 1,050 kilos of grist. In addition, before filling, into a lagering barrel of 65 hl, 12 pounds of hops and the water they have been brewed in are put into the barrel. These hops have been mashed with 75º water in a barrel for 30 minutes. The finer the hops, the better the beer will taste and the better its aroma. These beers are not usually bunged.
Source: Olberg, Johannes (1927) Kölsch obergärig in Moderne Braumethoden, pp 64-65, A. Hartleben, Wien & Leipzig.

That’s a pretty heavy hopping rate for a German beer. It works out to about 10.5 lbs per quarter of malt. For comparison, in 1925 Whitbread PA, at 1047º a very similar gravity to the Kölsch being described, had only 7.5 lbs per quarter.* 

I’ve come across this practice of mashing hops in hot water before. I guess it’s a sort of dry hopping. Is 75º C hot enough to isomerise the hops? According to the internet, it isn’t. 79º C seems to be the critical temperature. It’s odd they should use a temperature that’s just slightly too cool. Which has me wondering about the exact purpose of this technique.

That wet hopping is the equivalent of about 5.25 oz. per barrel, which is about the same as and English Best Bitter of the period.

I’m sure modern versions are much more lightly hopped. Unfortunately.





* Whitbread brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number LMA/4453/D/01/090.

Monday, 10 July 2017

Boddington beers in 1901

Time to take a look at Boddington’s beers at the turn of the 20th century.

For quite a small provincial brewery, they had a surprisingly large range of beers. Especially as they didn’t parti-gyle much.  They brewed four Mild Ales, two Pale Ales, two Stouts and one Strong Ale. Not bad at all.

Especially if you compare it with what they brewed in the 1980’s: one Bitter and one Mild. That was it. Until they bought Oldham, when they added that brewery’s Bitter and Mild. Still not exactly varies. But something similar happened at many of the UK’s older breweries. When bottled beer went out of fashion, brewers dropped their Brown Ales and Stouts, buying them in instead, if needed.

I’ve been wondering recently if the London beers I’ve mostly concentrated on were typical of the country as a whole. Especially after I saw how weak some of the Adnams’ beers were. The set from Boddies has reassured me. As the gravities are pretty much in line with those in London. OK, the weakest Mild has a gravity a bit on the low side. But that wasn’t their big seller. Their two main Milds, XX and XXX, are generally similar to Whitbread’s X and XK.

The same is sort of true of the Pale Ales. Though Whitbread didn’t brew an AK-strength beer, I know 1045 is a typical gravity for this class of beer. Boddies IPA is right in the middle of Whitbread’s set of Pale Ales. The biggest differences I can see are that Whitbread brewed a larger range of Pale Ales and hopped them a bit more heavily.

Taking Boddies Single Stout as a Porter under a different name, the Manchester brewer’s beers are broadly the same as the two weakest Whitbread beers. The hopping, though, again being heavier in the London beers.

Finally, Boddies Strong Ale, BB, which has a higher OG than any of Whitbread’s Stock Ales. In this case, the hopping in Manchester is much lower than in London.

Not forgetting boil times, which were around 30 minutes longer at Boddington. Wonder why that was?

Boddington beers in 1901
Date Beer Style OG FG ABV App. Atten-uation lbs hops/ qtr hops lb/brl boil time (hours) boil time (hours) Pitch temp
3rd Dec X Mild 1045 1010 4.63 77.78% 5.62 1.01 2 60º F
11th Dec XX Mild 1052 1016 4.76 69.23% 5.67 1.20 2.17 2.25 60.25º F
2nd Dec XXX Mild 1059 1018 5.42 69.49% 5.66 1.35 2.25 2.33 60º F
5th Dec XXXX Mild 1068 1022 6.09 67.65% 5.91 1.66 2.33 60.5º F
12th Dec AK Pale Ale 1046 1013 4.37 71.74% 8.00 1.48 2.25 59.5º F
19th Dec IPA IPA 1054 1015 5.16 72.22% 9.71 2.10 2.25 60º F
12th Dec DS Stout 1067.5 1023 5.89 65.93% 5.38 1.56 2.25 60º F
6th Dec S Stout 1051 1015 4.76 70.59% 5.50 1.16 2.25 60º F
17th Dec BB Strong Ale 1086 1030 7.41 65.12% 8.42 2.63 2.75 60º F
Source:
Boddington brewing record held at Manchester Central Library, document number M693/405/125.


Whitbread beers in 1901
Date Beer Style OG FG ABV App. Atten-uation lbs hops/ qtr hops lb/brl boil time (hours) boil time (hours) Pitch temp
20th Jun XK Ale 1061.2 1017 5.85 72.24% 6.03 1.63 1.75 1.75 60º
20th Jun X Mild 1054.2 1014 5.31 74.15% 6.03 1.44 1.75 1.75 60º
25th Jun 2PA Pale Ale 1053.7 1014 5.26 73.95% 9.85 2.39 1.5 1.42 57.5º
27th Jun FA Pale Ale 1051.8 1013 5.13 74.90% 10.92 2.54 1.5 1.75 58º
15th Jun PA Pale Ale 1058.4 1017 5.48 70.91% 10.98 2.93 1.5 2 58º
31st May KK Stock Ale 1073 1030 5.69 58.91% 12.00 4.03 1.75 2 57º
31st May 2KKK Stock Ale 1078.7 1033 6.05 58.07% 12.00 4.35 1.75 2 57º
31st May KKK Stock Ale 1082.8 1036 6.19 56.53% 12.00 4.58 1.75 2 57º
11th Feb C Porter 1054.7 1015 5.26 72.60% 6.86 1.86 1.5 1.75 60º
14th Feb P Porter 1055.7 1015 5.38 73.06% 7.52 1.70 1.75 2 60º
25th Feb CS Stout 1055.5 1016 5.23 71.18% 6.91 1.79 1.75 2 60º
8th May S Stout 1072.5 1028 5.89 61.39% 8.57 3.15 1.75 1.75 57º
20th Feb SS Stout 1087.6 1033 7.22 62.31% 8.55 3.74 1.75 2.17 57º
13th Mar SSS Stout 1096.1 1042 7.16 56.29% 8.51 4.25 1.75 2 57º
Source:
Whitbread brewing records held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document numbers LMA/4453/D/01/066 and LMA/4453/D/09/095.

Sunday, 9 July 2017

Manchester again

Another Friday, another trip to Schiphol. Not something I look forward to with any great enthusiasm.

The airport is ridiculously overcrowded, though not quite as bad as in May. When it took me two hours to drop off my bag and get through security. But, I now realise that I don’t have to queue with the plebs. My silver status in KLM’s frequent flyer programme means I can go through the Sky Priority lane, which has far shorter queues. Hooray!

I’m through all the irritating formalities in less than 20 minutes. Which is a miracle.

Having plenty of time – I got here two hours before departure, as advised - I’ve time for a beer. It might only be 8:30, but different rules apply in airports. My flight departs from pier D. Which just happens to be where the Murphy’s Irish pub is located. On the way I eat the egg and bacon sandwich I picked up in the landside Albert Heijn. It cost less than half than what the robbing bastards charge airside.

I settle into a seat at the bar. I’ve been through here so often that I recognise half the bar staff. How sad is that. Soon a blandish pint of Murphy’s Stout is settling itself slowly into my stomach. I have a read of the paper while I sip.

I’m one of the three people who still subscribe to a printed daily newspaper. Mine, NRC Next, is pretty decent. Not rabidly biased like most of the UK press and with articles written by proper, named journalists. It’s also good camouflage. Who would suspect that I’m English? With all the Brexit shit, I’m not particularly proud of my nationality. Don’t want to be mocked or pitied. Not sure which of those is worse.

Half way down my pint, I get this sudden urge. “Double Jamesons, please.” It’s going to be a long day. I need some fire in my belly.

I bought that breakfast sarnie for a reason. KLM’s food service on their morning flights isn’t inspiring: a piece of cake and a little tub of water. I don’t eat the cake, as I don’t eat refined sugar. Haven’t since I was fourteen. Luckily I get a little bottle of red wine to keep up my spirits.

Last time we came to Manchester we flew with Easyjet. Whose flights arrive at Terminal 1. Which is about five miles closer to the airport’s railway station.

I’m staying at the Doubletree, handily directly opposite Piccadilly Station. But I don’t head directly there. I have a few errands. First, and most important: collecting my train ticket for tomorrow’s journey to Sheffield. Then WH Smiths to pick up a copy of Viz, a bottle of water and a bag of crisps. The essentials for a night in Girlchester.

It’s only 11:30 and my room isn’t ready. “When will it be ready?” I ask. “About one o’ clock.”

Now there’s a dilemma. I’ve a visit booked to the archives at Manchester Central Library. Should I try to fit it in before or after checking in? I inadvertently make the decision for myself. I’ve left my cameras in the luggage I’ve left at the hotel. I can’t be arsed to ask them to pull it out again, so I do the only logical thing. I head for the nearest Wetherspoons.

It’s on Piccadilly. Not one I’ve been too before. The young barmaid who serves me is obviously new. Asking colleagues a few times about how to ring stuff up on the till. But she’s friendly enough. We all have to start sometime.

It’s a bit dark inside which makes reading my Viz tricky. I change seats to somewhere with slightly more light. It helps. A bit.

Thankfully my room is ready when I return. I go up to it to quickly dump my stuff. Inside there’s a tray of Partizan beers and some chocolates. I’m a bit puzzled at first. Then remember I’d given the brewery the hotel’s address when they offered to send me some beer. And not just any beer. Most of it is their version of 1945 Tetley Mild. I’m looking forward to trying that later.


Luckily the library isn’t far and I’m there well before 2 PM. Leaving me more than three hours of frantic snapping. Should be plenty of time. I’ve only ordered a dozen or so documents.

I’ve come to love the calm inside archive reading rooms. Something very soothing about them. Though I’m anything but calm, really, as I take photo after photo, limited only by how quickly my camera resets.


“Is this the last?” I ask the nice lady who’s ladling out the brewing logs to me. “Yes, that’s it” So that’s me done. An odd anti-climax. Stupidly, I didn’t bring the list of documents I’d requested. I have a nagging feeling that I’ve missed something. Still, I’m finished more than half an hour before the archives close. And I’ve only taken 800 photos. I’m such a lightweight.

No time to rest, mind. I’ve an appointment with John Clarke at the Marble Arch pub at 5:30. It’s over the other side of town and by the time I’ve dumped my posh camera at the hotel – not taking that on a pub crawl with me – I’m running a bit late.

Funnily enough, I’ve never been to the Marble Arch before. Not sure why. The interior is impressive. And it’s pretty crowded. Though I suppose it is Friday night. I eventually manage to spot John. Then I spot something else. On the bar. A pumpclip announcing Imperial Stout. I can’t pass that up.

“A pint of Imperial Stout, please.”

“Are you sure you want a full pint?” Of course I do. I don’t do halves.


John introduces me to Jan, the owner. We chat a while and I suggest she gets her brewer to make a good old-fashioned Manchester beer. Like a C Ale. She seems quite keen.

After a second pint of Imperial Stout, me and John head over to the Hare and Hounds for a pint of Holts. It’s a gorgeous, unspoilt pub with an intact pre-war interior.


I have to admit that the evening is getting a bit hazy. Can’t think why. I’ve only had a couple of pints.


Wetherspoons
49 Piccadilly
+44 161 236 9206
https://www.jdwetherspoon.com/


The Marble Arch
73 Rochdale Rd,
Manchester M4 4HY.

Tel: +44 161 832 5914
https://marblebeers.com


Hare & Hounds
46 Shudehill
Manchester
M4 4AA

Saturday, 8 July 2017

Let's Brew 1901 Boddington Stout

Quiet my life isn’t. I try to focus my efforts, but once again I’m fiddling in the knickers of several projects simultaneously. I won’t bore you by repeating what they. Mostly because it’s pretty damn effing obvious.

I’ve been a stupid twat. Only just twigging that I can easily combine my beery UK trips with archive visits. Which is where today’s recipe originates. At the Manchester Central Library.

I almost left it too late. Officially you need to book offsite records – which the Boddies brewing records are – two weeks in advance. I was so dozy that I only asked 10 days in advance. Luckily, that was OK.

Right. You’ll need to bear with me. I have to quickly finish off my Abt. Got a blood test at the quack tomorrow for which I need to be “nuchter”, as they say in Dutch. Literally it means sober. In this case, it means without food or drink for 12 hours.

Finally, we’ve arrived at the beer in question. Boddington’s entry-level Stout from 1901.

The recipe mixed my head up a treat, I can tell you. No dark malt at all in the log. Until I got two pages further. Where a note in the margin it details the quantities of black malt added to several beers. Not mentioned in the main part of the log, because it was added in the kettle, not the mash tun.

The sugars are a total guess. I just know there were two types. The recipe just barely gets to a Stout colour with my random jabs of No. 3 and No. 4 invert. Later logs show caramel. So that may well have been added to this beer as well.

In London this would never have counted as a Stout. Standard Porter had a higher OG. But I think this is just a case of a Porter being rebranded as Stout for commercial reasons. Boddington has a stronger version called Double Stout that was closer to the real Stout deal.

Maybe I’ll pester you with that Double Stout soon. Unless some shiny thing distracts me.


1901 Boddington S
pale malt 9.25 lb 85.33%
black malt 0.25 lb 2.31%
No. 3 Invert 0.67 lb 6.18%
No. 4 Invert 0.67 lb 6.18%
Cluster 135 mins 0.50 oz
Fuggles 90 mins 1.00 oz
Fuggles 60 mins 0.50 oz
Fuggles 30 mins 0.50 oz
OG 1051
FG 1015
ABV 4.76
Apparent attenuation 70.59%
IBU 36
SRM 24
Mash at 156º F
Sparge at 165º F
Boil time 135 minutes
pitching temp 60º F
Yeast Wyeast 1318 London ale III (Boddingtons)



Friday, 7 July 2017

Pasteurisation at Carlsberg in the 1880's (part two)

I hope you're enjoying this detailed look at 19th-century pasteurisation. I know I'm not. Deathly dull stuff. You'll be pleased to know that it ends here.

Some really boring stuff about the layout of the various pipes first.

"The steam and cold water pipes join each other like the letter V. The hot water enters at right angles about a foot below this junction. The three run by a common pipe into a perforated pipe lying on the bottom of the trough below the false bottom. This pipe is 40 inches long and eight inches in circumference. It is pierce with thirty 0.5 inch holes ten on each side and so placed as to force the water against the sides at an angle of about 40º. Of course the perforated pipe being plaaced in the centre of the box causes a current through all box. These perforated pipes are placed about 6 feet apart.

The manager does not consider this arrangement the best. If he was constructing a new one he would prefer smaller pipes placed at shorter intervals. The lenth of the boxes is nearly 18 feet."
"Notes of a visit to the breweries of Messrs. Jacobsen Senr. & Junr. Copenhagen Sept 1881." held at the Scottish Brewing Archive, document number WY/6/1/1/11.
I realise now why William Younger had sent people to go out and look at Carlsberg's brewery: they'd just started brewing Pils at their Holyrood brewery. There was another trip in November and December to a Lager brewery in Plauen so obviously they were taking research very seriously. I bet you can guess what I'll be boring you with next.

It seems that pasteurising caused a lot of broken bottles. Obvious enough , really. Rapid heating and cooling of glass is likely to lead to it cracking.

"Their breakage seems mostly at the first heating and the first of the cooling. The average loss in broken bottle in 1880 was quart 2.47% pints 1.52. This is the percentage for pasteurisation only. The loss through carelessness in every other operation is 0.3%. This incidental loss is greater when the bottles are not pasteurised.

Mr. Jacobsen Sen. says that the perecenatage of bottles broken in the pasteurisation process is always larger as the glass is darker. The paler the colour of the bottle, the breakage is proportionally less and with reason. He has got bottles from various parties. Some makes give double the breakage of others. He has also got the bottle blowers to try and darken the glass like the colour of home beer bottles but whenever the colour approached the black bottle the breakage was so high they were compelled to discontinue their use. When bottling beer to be pasteurised one must be careful not to fill the bottle very full so as to leave room for an air receiver? between the cork and the beer. This is to contain the liberated gas and also to allow for the expansion of the beer when it is at its maximum temperature."
"Notes of a visit to the breweries of Messrs. Jacobsen Senr. & Junr. Copenhagen Sept 1881." held at the Scottish Brewing Archive, document number WY/6/1/1/11.
Why on earth would darker bottles be more likely to break? Seems odd.

The implication from this next passage is taht not all of Carlsberg's beeer was pasteurised.

"They never bottle beer for pasteurisation under six months and they prefer it from 9 months to one year old. They bottle it the whole year round.

Mr. Jacobsen Sen. & Dr. Hansen say that the heat is only sufficient to retard the development of yeast by lessening its normal activity and not at all by killing it. In judging of the suitability of a bottle they put great stress on the uniform thickness of the glass. The bottom being very little thicker than the side of shoulder."
"Notes of a visit to the breweries of Messrs. Jacobsen Senr. & Junr. Copenhagen Sept 1881." held at the Scottish Brewing Archive, document number WY/6/1/1/11.

I suppose they wanted the beer to be fully matured before they killed, was the reason they left it for so long before pasteurising. Though it's clear that the proceess didn't really kill all the yeast.

Which beer wasn't pasteurised? My guess would be the beer that was put into casks.

Thursday, 6 July 2017

Mild dominates Manchester

There are often handy little monthly totals (or even yearly ones, if you’re lucky) tucked away in brewing records. They’re another vital source of information.

I could see as I went through Boddington’s brewing records at the start of the 1900’s that they were brewing a lot of Mild. But the monthly total at the end of January 1902’s brews told me just how dominant it was: of 39 brews that month, 33 were for one of their four Mild Ales.

I could have made a rough approximation from just the number of brews, but luckily I have photos of all the brews for that month so I can come up with exact totals. Very exact totals: down to the gallon. Just shy of 50% of the total was XXX alone and all four Milds combined were 86% of output that month. That’s a very high percentage of what they brewed.

Compare and contrast is what I like to do. Usually it’s with Whitbread, because I have so much information about their beers. Unsurprisingly, they were brewing a much lower percentage Mild. And, being a London brewery, Porter and Stout were still important products for them.

Which doesn’t mean to say that they weren’t still brewing a shitload of Mild. It was still over 40% of their output and X Ale was their biggest seller by a long, long way. But Pale Ale was catching up fast. In 1880 1880 Mild was 53%, Pale Ale just 3%.   By 1902 Mild was down to 43% and Pale Ale up to 19%.

What does this tell us? That London and the North of England were out of phase in beer style popularity. Pale Ales were relatively much more popular in London. I can think of one possible explanation: the middle class was bigger in London. Pale Ale was, at the time, still a relatively posh drink. But I’m sure some of the explanation is just in different fashions in different places.

Seventy years later, around the time I was starting to drink, Mild was still much more popular in the North than in London. In fact, Mild was almost dead by then in London, but still a standard pub beer in most of the North and the Midlands.

The other huge difference between the two breweries is the amount of Stout being produced: marginal quantities at Boddington, more than a third of production at Whitbread. And standard Porter, which Boddington no longer brewed, was one of Whitbread’s biggest sellers. In that sense Whitbread was behind most of the rest of the UK (apart from Ireland). The Porter drinking tradition was very much alive in London.

The only area where the two breweries have similar figures is Strong Ale, it both cases just over 2%. Which just tells us the strong beer drinking was a minority pursuit.

Here are the numbers in detail:


Boddington output in January 1902
Beer Barrels %
X 478.39 15.64%
XX 552.61 18.06%
XXX 1521.83 49.74%
XXXX 78.67 2.57%
Total Mild Ale 2631.50 86.01%
BB 71.81 2.35%
Total Strong Ale 71.81 2.35%
AK 79.81 2.61%
IPA 78.89 2.58%
Total Pale Ale 158.69 5.19%
S 121.42 3.97%
DS 75.94 2.48%
Total Stout 197.36 6.45%
Total 3059.36 100.00%
Source:
Brewing record held at Manchester Central Library, document number M693/405/125.


Whitbread output year ending June 1902
Beer Barrels %
X 316,128 42.62%
XK 5,768 0.78%
Total Mild Ale 321,896 43.39%
KK 7,244 0.98%
KKK 2,590 0.35%
2KKK 5,239 0.71%
Total Strong Ale 15,073 2.03%
PA 12,714 1.71%
2PA 44,122 5.95%
FA 52,651 7.10%
IPA 34,307 4.62%
Total Pale Ale 143,794 19.38%
P 81,926 11.04%
S 8,315 1.12%
C 35,700 4.81%
CS 82,752 11.16%
SS 41,017 5.53%
SSS 11,333 1.53%
Total Stout 261,043 35.19%
Total 741,806 100.00%
Source:
Whitbread brewing records held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document numbers LMA/4453/D/01/067 and LMA/4453/D/09/096.