Let's Brew Wednesday - 1917 Kidd SXXX

This is a beer that originally had me confused. I assumed that it was some sort of Burton Ale.

But when I looked more closely at the hopping rate, I realised that it was really a strong Mild. At least that’s what I think at the moment. I might change my mind.

The big difference with the other Mild Ale, X, is the type of sugar. X has No. 3 invert and Budgett, SXXX has No. 1 invert alone. The percentage of sugar in the grist is far lower than in X. Probably an indication that this was a fancier beer. Unlike X, there’s no crystal malt. That, combined with the use of No. 1 rather than No. 3 invert makes this a paler beer than X.

The hops are listed as Farnham and Kent, which, as usual, I’ve interpreted as Goldings and Fuggles, respectively. They were all from the 1916 crop so I haven’t reduced the quantity. That all the hops were fresh is another indication that this was a posh beer.

1917 Kidd SXXX
pale malt	9.00 lb	82.76%
No. 1 invert sugar	1.50 lb	13.79%
cane sugar	0.25 lb	2.30%
malt extract	0.125 lb	1.15%
Fuggles 150 mins	2.25 oz
Goldings 30 mins	2.25 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.75 oz
OG	1053
FG	1018
ABV	4.63
Apparent attenuation	66.04%
IBU	55
SRM	6
Mash at	153º F
Sparge at	165º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	59º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

Old flame

I was back in Leeds recently. A city that was my home for seven years. For many of them, I had one true love: the Cardigan Arms.

I can't exactly remember how we first met. It's all connected with Simon. A school friend who was also studying in Leeds.

The first year, I may have seen Simon once. At the start of the second, I bumped into him and we stumbled into a pub. Three hours later, we were boozing buddies. Friendship renewed through a gallon of Tetley's Mild, drink of the gods.

Simon lived in a weird house in Headingley. I was in an even weirder spot out in Cross Green, in classic Leed back-to-back with the bogs in outdoor courtyard. There were loads of good local pubs. With handpulled Tetley's through univacs. Heaven, really. Yet I'd walk three miles to drink in my favourite.

I can remember that first time. When I said to Simon "Why don't we head out west? Away from all the fucking students."

"OK."

There was a huge amount of excitement in my early years in Leeds, discovering new areas of Tetley's pubs beyond the student pale.  We weren't disappointed when we headed down Kirkstall Road.

We first hit the Rising Sun. A magnificent former Melbourne house with amazing etched gass windows. But a few hundred metres further waited our true love. A pub so wonderful, I still dream of it. The Cardigan Arms.

When I arrived in Leed in 1975, electric pumps were the order of the day. The fascist health authorities had decided that univacs were unhygienic, and Tetley had ripped out the handpumps from most of their Leeds pubs. In a few grotty areas, where imminent demolition was anticipated , Tetley had let the old pumps remain.

The Sheepscar, in an area cleared save for the odd pub, was my first experience of handpulled Tetley's Mild. What the fuck? I'd been drinking the same beer for several months through electric pumps. The handpulled version was a revelation. So much better, it seemed like a different beer.

Me and Simon started drinking in the Cardigan when they had electric pumps. The beer was pretty good. Then Tetley changed their mind about handpulls.

One day we troll up in the Cardigan and the electric pumps are gone. Instead there's a wicket of handpulls. And the beer has gone from good to nectar. One of the best pints I've ever had.

And it remained like that. Tetley's Mild in the Cardigan was amazing. Drinkable, but subtly complex. Like Augustiner Heeles, but Mild. A suicidal beer that threw itself down your thoat before you could stop it. I miss it so much.

It was great being back in the Cardigan. Just a shame there was no Tetley's Mild.

Number of Licensed Houses in the UK in 1889

Some more pub numbers for you. I hope you enjoy them.

"Number of Licensed Houses.
A PARLIAMENTARY Return, giving the number of houses licensed for the sale of intoxicating liquors in each licensing district of England and Wales, has recently been issued. From this we learn that there are altogether 105,484 houses licensed for the sale of intoxicating liquors to be consumed on the premises, and 23,024 off-licences; this gives an average of one house to 202 persons on the basis of the last census; 67,009 on licences and 13,270 oflicences are in the counties, and 38,475 on licences and 9,754 off-icences in the boroughs; in the counties there is one licensed house to every 219 persons, and in the boroughs one to every 173 persons. There are altogether 4,188 six-day licences, 274 early closing licences, and 703 combined six-day and early closing licences in England and Wales. Wales having a Sunday Closing Act, has the largest proportion of the six-day licences. In the boroughs licensed houses are far more numerous than in the counties ; the ratios range from 1 to every 66 persons in Banbury to 1 to 480 persons in Jarrow; in the counties the range is even wider, for the Rhyl division of Flintshire has the largest proportion of licensed houses, there being one to every sixty persons, whilst in the Lower Llanidloes Division of Montgomery shire there is only one to 613 persons. As a rule,licensed houses appear to be more numerous in proportion to the population in the purely agricultural, whilst in the manufacturing counties the proportion is lower. Taking the principal boroughs, we find the City of London comes first, with one licensed house to 80 persons, and there is one licensed house to 123 persons in Portsmouth, 130 in Liverpool, 131 in Manchester, 152 in Sheffield, 165 in Leicester, 167 in Nottingham, 170 in Salford, 173 in Bristol, 175 in Hull, 183 in Birmingham, 190 in Bradford, 195 in Newcastle, 248 in Liverpool, and 271 in Leeds."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 178.

It doesn't surprise me that the City of London had the most pubs per population. Because the pubs in the City really serve the area's working not resident population. Nor is it a shock that Leeds scores relatively poorly. When I lived there it was notably less well pubbed than some other cities I knew, such as Nottingham.

How does that match up with today? Let's take a look:

UK On and Off licences in 2016
	On licences	Off licences	Total	Population	population per on licence
England and Wales	118,700	55,700	174,400	58,744,600	495
Scotland	11,593	5,110	16,703	5,424,800	468
Northern Ireland	2,058	585	3,125	1,870,800	909
Total	132,351	61,395	194,228	66,040,200	499
Sources:
Office for National Statistics (GB) https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/populationandmigration/populationestimates
2017 Statistical Handbook of the BBPA, pages 64 - 66.

Surprised at the high number of on licences? That's because the numbers include things other than pubs, such as residential hotels and restaurants Though not clubs). I'd have preferred to use just the pub numbers, but after 2004 I only have those for Northern Ireland. The total nummber of pubs in the UK is probably around 50,000. Which equates to one pub per 1,175 people.

Note that the current number of off licences is around triple that of 1889. But that's slightly deceptuve because in the 19th century most off sales were from pubs. Usually in the form of jugs of draught beer.

The Brewing of Beer for Bottling (part two)

Continuing the article about brewing beer for bott;ing, we've got to fermentation, cleansing and conditioning.

Starting with primary fermentation:

"The yeast is added whilst the worts are running down; about half a pound of yeast to each barrel of wort is the average quantity. There are different ways of fermenting, including the skimming and stone or slate square systems, unions and wooden rounds, &c.; the latter are mostly used in Burton, and the squares in northern counties. Ale must not be attenuated as low for bottling as it is for draught purposes, so as to ensure life in the bottle; the heat had better be maintained at 60° Fahr. or thereabouts."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381.

That doesn't seem very much yeast. A quick look at some brewing records shows me that a minimum of 1 lb of yeast per barrel was the norm. No idea where teh author got his amount from.

At first I thought the author was claiming unions were used for fermenting in Burton. Then, looking at the punctuation more carefully, I realised that it means Burton brewers used unions and wooden rounds. Though it should be the other way around. The wort went into the rounds first, then the unions.

"Cleansing by running the ale off into puncheons or cleansing casks, racked from these into dry and sweet casks when the required gravity is obtained; these casks are allowed to stand overnight, and well hopped on bunging down next morning with new hops, then stored in a cool dark cellar for a few months, and vented when required. If it is unsound it will develop iself, if sound, it will get bright and sparkling."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381.

That's the London system of cleansing. If you were using a Yorkshire square, that combined fermentation and cleansing. While Burton brewers would use the already-mentioned unions. Stock Beers that underwent this sort of secondary fermentation in cask was expected to drop bright without fining. Unles something was wrong with the beer.

"Bottled after this treatment the ale should be perfectly satisfactory. If the bottled ale is not to be used for some time, it is generally bottled without gas (carbonic acid); the bottles must be perfectly clean and dry, filled to within a couple of inches from the top of the neck, then tightly stoppered; if corks are used they must be very close and solid, so that the gas cannot escape. Some bottlers advise leaving the bottles open for about twenty-four hours after filling, then corking and laying them lengthways in sand, covered with sawdust, for the prevention of mould."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381.

It sounds like sometimes beer was being bottled with artificial carbonation. Having clean bottles is a bit of a no-brainer. Though not sealing the bottles for 24 hours sounds like asking for trouble. Not sure what point there could be in that. Can't see why covering a bottle in sand or sawdust would prevent mould. Though it could protect workers from flying glass, shouls a bottle explode.

"Pasteur advises the laying of the bottles on their sides, so that the oxygen in the small quantity of air between the liquid and the stopper may be rapidly absorbed by the larger surface of liquid so exposed. If the ale is for immediate use, it is better to saturate it with carbonic acid gas. There is always a certain amount of sediment, especially in porter, and this is deposited on the sides of the bottles when they are laid length ways, even when only for twenty four hours: and this is of more importance than the fear of the growth of mould on the surface of the liquid, especially when the ale is for immediate use, but there ought not to be any fear of mould when the bottles are well washed and dried."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381.

Not sure what Pasteur was on about. Whay do you want the beer to absorb oxygen. Surely, if a beer had been bottled well, there would be no oxygen in the heas space, but CO2? I wonder why Porter always had sediment?

"When the cork is drawn it must be done gently, so that the gas does not escape too quickly, and the sediment is not disturbed. A spring cork screw answers this purpose admirably. When a stopper is used it must be unscrewed gently, and the ale poured down the side of the glass. If the above instructions are carefully attended to, and if the beer has had constant attention, it will be of a good colour, sparkling, and have a full taste on the palate."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, pages 381 - 382.

Good advice there for pouring a bottle-conditioned beer. It's how I do it myself.

Let's Brew - 1914 Crowley Porter

Unusually for a provincial brewery, Crowley still produced a Porter in 1914.

At 1050º, it’s a similar strength to London Porter. Though the grist is quite different. For a start there’s no brown malt, which a London Porter would always include. No black malt, either, instead there’s chocolate malt. It’s a very early date to see this type of malt. Though Whitbread started using it in the 1920s.

The presence of a small amount of oats mean they must have been selling some of the brew as Oatmeal Stout. There’s not much of it, despite it being considerably more than London brewers bothered with.

Then there’s lots of sugar: around 14% of the grist in total. The original had three sugars, in addition to the caramel, 10 cwt cane, 2 cwt candy and 1 cwt CDW. I’ve rolled the last two together as candy.

As with most of Crowley’s beers, the hops are a combination of 1912 and 1913 English with 1913 Oregon.

1914 Crowley Porter
pale malt	8.25 lb	75.00%
chocolate malt	1.00 lb	9.09%
flaked oats	0.25 lb	2.27%
cane sugar	1.00 lb	9.09%
candy sugar	0.25 lb	2.27%
caramel 500 SRM	0.25 lb	2.27%
Cluster 120 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles 60 mins	1.00 oz
OG	1050
FG	1017
ABV	4.37
Apparent attenuation	66.00%
IBU	38
SRM	36
Mash at	155º F
Sparge at	176º F
Boil time	120 minutes
pitching temp	59º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1275 Thames Valley ale

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Carlsberg and yeast

The contribution of large breweries to the science of brewing is often ignored by the geeky end of the beer world. Carlsberg is one of the breweries which has made the largest contribution.

They were one of the first breweries to set up a proper laoratory and carried out much ground-breaking research. As they continue to do to this day. Whatever you migh think of their beer, their contribtions to brewing science have been immense. Especially in the field of yeast.

"The Carlsberg Brewery.— In his last report on the trade of Denmark the British Consul at Copenhagen, referring to Danish breweries, says that the same thoroughness of purpose which is so generally noticeable in all enterprises undertaken in Denmark has for many years past been brought to bear on this industry, and notably by the late Captain Jacobsen, whose brewery at Old Carlsberg is the result of a lifetime devoted to the perfecting of the various processes, and is at this day a model establishment, in which no expenditure is spared to maintain the excellence of the produce. In a well-fitted laboratory annexed to the establishment, under the superintend ence of Dr. E. C. Hansen, experiments are made, in the results of which the trade at large is allowed to participate. Dr. Hansen is a distinguished disciple of Pasteur, and independent discoveries have been made by him on the propagation of micro-organisms. These researches led him to the cultivation of pure yeast, which since 1885 has been exclusively used in the brewery. A few years ago at one of the other breweries at Old Carlsberg heavy losses had been sustained in consequence of the beer turning sour at intervals for a period of two years. Dr. Hansen ultimately traced the cause, and for the first time had an opportunity of trying on an extended scale his then recently-discovered pure yeast. The result was in every way satisfactory, and from that day his system has practically been applied at Old Carlsberg. In an interesting monograph contributed to the scientific periodical published at the brewery, Dr. Hansen describes the process. Briefly stated, his system consists in selecting a single cell of yeast, of a species which by experiment has been proved to give a certain ascertained result in fermentation, and from this cell to cultivate yeast in large quantities for the fermenting vats. The advantages of this mode of fermentation have now been fully recognised, and it is in use in all the large Dutch and many foreign breweries. The brewer using the pure yeast knows with absolute certainty that his beer will turn out of the desired taste and quality. It should be stated that the mode of fermentation in vogue is what is called “bottom" fermentation at a low temperature, on the Bavarian plan."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 155.

Learning how to generate 100% pure yeast was a big breakthrough, one from which almost the whole of the world's brewing industry has benefitted. Well, other than some eccentric UK breweries like Harveys.

Just as back in the 19th century, Carlsberg still makes the reults of its research available to everyone. As a real scientific institution should.

Hansen's laboratory has been preserved by Carlsberg. It's hard to describe the thrill I got entering the space where Hansen and Claussen performed such important work on yeast.

I'm not surprised that all the large Dutch breweries used pure yeast cultures. It probably came from Heineken that had a plant for producing pure yeast cultures in their Rotterdam brewery.

The Brewing of Beer for Bottling

You may recall that I have a bit of an obsession about bottling and bottled beer. Not sure why that might be. You'll just have to indulge me.

This comes from the early days of bottling, when brewers were just starting to dip their toes in the water. The vast majority of bottling itself was performed by third parties. Though, obviously, brewers still had to supply suitable beer.

The article starts at the beginning: with the water used.

"The Brewing of Beer for Bottling.
GOOD water is the first important factor in brewing ale, either for draught or bottle. There are several kinds of water, such as spring water, river water, rain water, deep well water, surface water (from cultivated lands), sand rock water, chalk water, &c. Some brewers prefer soft water for brewing, such as sand rock water (these waters are generally fairly pure), but the majority prefer hard water, especially for bottled ale. There are two kinds of hard water, temporary and permanent hardness; the latter kind generally contains a large percentage of gypsum (calcium sulphate), while the former contains a large percentage of carbonates in solution, which are precipitated on boiling."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381. 

That doesn't really contain any information firectly related to bottled beer. And it's all pretty vague, other than saying that most brewers preferred hard water.

Now on to the grist:

"A suitable water having been obtained, the grain has to be chosen; here again there is a slight difference of opinion, some brewers obtain a better extract from rice, with malt, but malt alone is more generally mashed. The best pale malt is required; it should possess a thin skin, be full and plump, crisp and easily broken, and weigh about 40 to 45 lbs. per bushel. The required quantity must be crushed, not to a powder, but broken enough so as to allow the water to dissolve the powder inside the husk; this is usually done the day before brewing; but it must not be done sooner, because malt rapidly absorbs moisture from the air. The mashing is now proceeded with, the liquor ranging from 160° to 170° Fahr., as required: much depends upon this part of the operation, and a high extract is needed for bottling purposes."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381. 

This article was written just a few years after the use of adjuncts was made legal by the 1880 Free Mash Tun Act. While in the 20th century the adjunct of choice was mostly flaked maize, in the early years flaked rice was also common.

The concentration on quality pale malt implies that he's talking about brewing a classy Pale Ale. 

Mashing:

"There are two systems of mashing— (a) the infusion process, (b) the decoction process. The former is mostly practised in England, the latter in Germany. A greater extract can be obtained from the former process with good mashing apparatus. After mashing the goods are allowed to stew about two hours, then the worts are run off into the copper. They should be quite bright, if the mashing has been properly carried out. The worts should have nearly reached the boiling-point by the time the required length is obtained."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381. 

Mashing schenes were a bit more complicated than that. Few UK breweries outside Scotland had a single infusion followed by sparges. Almost every brewery I've looked at employed what I would call an underlet mash at this point. That starts an infusion at a lowish temperature - 147º F to 150º F - which is left to stand for 90 to 120 minutes, followed by an addition of hotter water via the underlet which raises the mash temperature 4º F to 5º F. This is held for 30 minutes or so berfore sparging begins.

Not sure what the bit about the worts almost having reached boiling point before the end of sparging. Unless it means sparging at a very high temperature.

The bit about hops makes more sense:

"The hops must be added when the worts commence boiling. Brewing ales for bottling is generally begun about October, because the weather is favourable and new hops can be obtained. Ales for bottling must be well hopped. Twelve to twenty-four pounds of the best pale hops should be used to each quarter of malt. Farnhams, Goldings, or East Kents will be found to answer the best. These hops must be of a pale green colour, contain plenty of seeds, smell well when rubbed between the palms of the hands; they must also be free from sulphur and mould. The boiling should be continued from one and a half to two hours."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381. 

12 to 24 pounds of hops per quarter is an awful lot. The upper end of the range is what you'd expect in a high-class Burton pale Ale. That you'd use the best hops - which is what Farnhams, Goldings and East Kents are.

"The worts are then cooled rapidly. This is done by running on to the cooler, down the refrigerator. into the fermenting-tun, at about 60° Fah. The yeast, which should be examined microscopically, should be in a healthy condition, otherwise the brew Will be ruined. The cells in healthy yeast are round and budding; the dead cells may be easily distinguished by adding a drop of indigo carmine to the glass slide. The indigo will stain the dead cells, but the living yeast will remain unaffected."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 381. 

 The cooler is what you ignorant youngsters would call a coolship. This is the standard cooling method of the time: start in the cooler and then finsih the job whith a refrigerator. That's a seeries of copper pipes through which cold brine was circulated. The wort was run over the top of them to cool.

60º F is a pretty standard pitching temperature. Though I'd expect the classy sort of Pale Ale the author seems to be describing to be pitched a couple of degrees cooler than that.

Let's Brew Wednesday - 1921 Barclay Perkins PA

PA, Barclay’s flagship Pale Ale, disappeared in the middle of the war. And didn’t return until 1921. I suspect that, initially at least, it was a beer destined purely for export.

I say that for a couple of reasons. First, it was produced in tiny quantities: this batch was just 27.5 barrels. Secondly, in some of the records from a little later it specifically says “PA export”. When a domestic version of PA did return, that had an OG of 1052.6º.

The recipe is extremely simple: pale malt and No. 1 invert sugar. Which is another reason this beer shouts export at me: classy ingredients. The grist is slightly more complicated than it appears from the recipe, part of the base being PA malt, the best-quality type of pale malt.

The hops continue the classy theme: East Kent from the 1921 crop, Mid Kent from 1920 and Saaz, also from 1920. All had been kept in a cold store. The dry hops are East Kent (1921).

It looks very much like the domestic PA from 1914. That too was brewed from just pale malt and No. 1 invert sugar. Though the proportion of malt is higher here, and the hopping a little less heavy.

1921 Barclay Perkins PA
pale malt	11.75 lb	90.32%
No. 1 invert sugar	1.26 lb	9.68%
Fuggles 150 mins	1.50 oz
Saaz 90 mins	1.50 oz
Goldings 60 mins	2.00 oz
Goldings dry hops	0.50 oz
OG	1059.5
FG	1018
ABV	5.49
Apparent attenuation	69.75%
IBU	60
SRM	6
Mash at	149º F
Sparge at	172º F
Boil time	150 minutes
pitching temp	58º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

Licensed Houses in Bavaria

The Bavarians have alwyas been a thirsty bunch when it comes to beer. In the 19th century the average Bavarian drank over 300 litres a year. An insane amount.

This interesting letter compares the number of pubs per head of population in the UK and Bavaria. Why mention this? Because at the time temperance lunatics had convinced many in the UK that there were too many pubs. And that the temptations of these pubs were the main cause of drunkenness. Therefore the number of pubs had to be reduced.

This obsession with delicensing as many pubs as possible and at the same time making new licences almost unobtainable were the main reasons the tied house system became so prevalent in the UK. There were a finite number of outlets for beer which needed to be secured if a brewery wanted to sell any beer.

No such problems in Bavaria.

"Licensed Houses in Bavaria.
TO THE EDITOR OF “THE BREWERS‘ GUARDIAN."
SIR,-—In your issue of June 11 you publish a statement of licensed houses in England and Wales, which shows that there are 105,484 houses licensed for the sale of intoxicating liquors to be consumed on the premises, and gives an average of one house to 202 persons on the basis of last census (1881).

It may be interesting to the readers of THE BREWERS‘ GUARDIAN to have some information on the same subject with regard to Bavaria, the only other c0untry which, like England, is mainly a beer-consuming one. There were in Bavaria at the end of the year 1888 34,262 houses with permission to sell beer, and, besides these, there were 3,717 retail houses or the sale of spirits, which may more appropriately he called dram-shops. This makes a total of 37,979 licensed houses for a population of 5,420,199, in accordance with the last census (1885), and gives one house for every 145 persons. Off-licences do not exist in Bavaria, and the few traders who sell beer in bottles (generally only of the very best kinds) require no special permission to do so; and wine houses (of which there are a good many) are also not included. Yet we do not hear of such a continual out cry against licences in Bavaria as there is, without intermission, dinned into the ears of the British public. And, although we find here a great difference, in so far as the proportion of 145 to 202 means nearly 28 per cent. more in Bavaria, it would not be difiicult to prove that sobriety is as great in Bavaria as in most other countries, and greater than in some with less consumption of beer, but in reality with more consumption of spirits.

The Bavarian Administration freely grants "concessions," as the licences are called, for the sale of beer, but, as the figures above show, are very care ful in giving permission for the sale of spirits. That has always been so, and was the making of the Bavarian beer industry, and your last number gives ample details of that too. Roundly speaking, beer, especially of the fine, light description now coming generally into use, is quite innocuous, if not taken in excessive quantities; and it may be that the mixed licences contributed a good deal to make beer figure as an intoxicant, instead of a nourishing, refreshing, and inoffensive beverage.
I remain, sir,
Your obedient servant,
June 16."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 201.

The "fine, light" beer the author mentions is probably Light Bitter - stuff like AK. While it was light compared to most other beers of the day, it was still 4.5% - 5% ABV. Not exactly non-intoxicating.

Why wasn't there a call for a reduction in the number of pubs in Bavaria? Because people there hadn't been brainwashed by temperance fanatics.

Malt and barley in London in 1889

Some quick statistics. Fairly random ones, but ones that do tell us a story. It's amazing what a few numbers can tell you. In this case about barley and malt in UK brewing.

I often find myself saying things like "Californian malt" or "Chilean malt" when talking about UK beer. But it's untrue and misleading. I really should say "malt made from Californian barley". Because, whatever the origin of the barley it was made from, the malt used in UK beer was always manufactured in the UK. The quantity of malt imported was tiny. And probably exclusively lager malt.

The numbers I'm going to show you confirm this. For while there was a considerable amount of foreign barley being imported into London, there was zero foreign malt. Obviously, not all the imported barley was going to end up being turned into malt. And even the malt made from it wasn't necessarily all used in beer - considerable quantities were used in distilling. But it's still significant that three-quarters of the barley coming into London was foreign.

I'm slightly surprised that Scottish malt was turning up in the capital. Scotland ran a deficit in malting barley and malt with England. Importing both finished malt and malting barley.

Here are the numbers.

ARRIVALS OF MALT IN LONDON.
	English.	Scotch	Irish.	Foreign.	Total.
	qrs.	qrs.	qrs.	qrs.	qrs.
Week ending Nov. 1	22,382	1,241	-	-	23,623
,,          ,,       ,,      8	16,671	717	-	-	17,388
Total for the fortnight	39,053	1,958	-	-	41,011
Source:
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 365.

ARRIVALS OF BARLEY IN LONDON.
	English.	Scotch	Irish.	Foreign.	Total.
	qrs.	qrs.	qrs.	qrs.	qrs.
Week ending Nov. 1	2,400	1,506	150	18,597	22,653
,,          ,,       ,,      8	2,796	1,152	490	9,603	14,041
Total for the fortnight	5,196	2,658	640	28,200	36,694
Source:
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 365.

Enamel for Casks

I'm often asked about the lining of casks. Something which was common on the Continent and which many assume was also practised in the UK. It wasn't. Or at least, not much.

Though, as with everything, it's a bit more complicated than that. UK brewers definitely weren't keen on lining casks with pitch, as was the Central European practice. They reckoned pitch was the source of the onion flavour they detected in Lager. But they did use other materials to line casks. Though much more common was the use of unlined casks.

This is one of the first mentions I've found of lining casks in the UK. In this case with some sort of enamel. It's a bit vague about the composition of the enamel. Perhps it was a trade secret.

"Enamel for Casks.
Some short time ago we detailed the necessary treatment of cask plant, and pointed out that we had tried nearly all the chemical agents advertised for the purpose of restoring musty and stinking casks, but with no result that we could safely recommend to our readers. We are, however, now pleased to say that since the appearance of our previous note, we have conducted experiments upon a footing entirely different from those previously carried out. The experiments we speak of have been in the direction of the application of enamels. Now, from a practical point of view, we know many brewers who have experienced great benefit from the use of this class of material, but it was with reluctance that we ventured to give it a trial, since we were under the impression that the various forms of enamel were, more or less, all of the same character, and knowing that alcohol has a decided effect upon the majority of them, and that acetic acid has a still greater effect, we were sceptical of the result, but we are all liable to mistakes, and it is in this particular that we made one, for the simple reason that we have just analysed one patent enamel, and find that these two powerful solvents, alcohol and acetic acid, have no action whatever upon it. Therefore, from an experimental point of view, we find that it is without a rival, and from information received, we are bound to admit that it is an excellent material, not only for the purpose of curing musty and stinking casks, but for the purpose of preserving casks, which are not in such a bad state, since the enamel in question lengthens the life of cask plant to a somewhat considerable extent. The enamel we speak of is patented and manufactured by Messrs. Crawford & Co., to whom we refer our readers for particulars, and although our having to go to press prevents us discussing this subject further, we will nevertheless, in a future issue, detail the enamel’s practical application, since we are certain that the majority of fretful causes of beer, combined with acidity and turbidity, are due to faulty cask plant, which we have no hesitation in saying, could be readily avoided by the use of such an enamel as the above."
"The Brewers' Guardian 1889", 1889, page 370.

The article reads a bit like an advert for Messrs. Crawford & Co.'s enamel. Was it really as wonderful as made out?

Let's Brew - 1921 Barclay Perkins X Ale

Here's an oddity: an old Mild recipe that isn't watery. Or bland.

X Ale was one of the mainstays of Barclay Perkins range. By 1921 it had attained the form it would have for the remainder of the decade. As XX Ale after 1931, it lasted much like this until WW II.

Barclay Perkins were unusual in having Mild Ales with fairly complex malt. In addition to pale and crystal malt, there was also amber malt. Amber malt had been in the recipe since 1909, but the crystal malt was only added in late 1916, around six months before X Ale was discontinued.

This beer was made in the small brew house as a “Special brew with Australian malt”. Which explains why there’s no SA malt as part of the base, but all pale malt.

The hops were mostly pretty new: Mid Kent 1920 and Pacific 1920, both kept in a cold store. There were also some Alsace hops from 1917. Which means they were grown when the region was still part of Germany.

Unusually for a Barclay Perkins Mild, it doesn’t appear to have been primed.

1921 Barclay Perkins X Ale
pale malt	5.75 lb	64.25%
amber malt	1.00 lb	11.17%
crystal malt 60 L	0.50 lb	5.59%
flaked maize	1.00 lb	11.17%
No. 3 invert sugar	0.67 lb	7.49%
caramel 500 SRM	0.03 lb	0.34%
Alsace 90 mins	0.25 oz
Cluster 60 mins	1.00 oz
Fuggles 30 mins	0.75 oz
OG	1041.5
FG	1010
ABV	4.17
Apparent attenuation	75.90%
IBU	31
SRM	11
Mash at	151º F
Sparge at	170º F
Boil time	90 minutes
pitching temp	60.5º F
Yeast	Wyeast 1099 Whitbread Ale

Seattle there we go

The kids turn up at 11:30. Just after the maid. I’m pretty much ready to go. I’ve finished off the bourbon and beer. Plus done some writing. I’m so diligent nowadays.

Final packing done, we stroll down to reception just after noon. Dump our bags and head for the diner Andrew has found. It sounds dead good. But is over the other side of the motorway. That is, up a dirty great hill.

“It’s not as bad as yesterday, dad. See, it goes off to the left rather than straight up the hill.” I’m not totally convinced. But it does look like a good diner.

The road may not be as steep. But the climb is longer. We end up walking up to about the same height. But I’m too out of breath to argue.

When we arrive at Glo’s, we’re informed that we’ll have to wat 30-45 minutes for a table. Just as well we’re not in any great rush.

One of the lessons I’ve learned in my travels is not to rush. Leave plenty of time for everything. Stuff always takes longer than you expect. Even without unexpected delays. I’d rather wait for two hours in an airport bar than have to run to my gate.

“We could have a coffee over the road, in the meantime.” I remark. There’s a Starbucks there. The kids just get a medium black coffee. Being flash, I go for a caffe latte. I have to wait for mine.

We notice four cops drinking coffee on the patio. After a while the only female officer gets up, runs up the hill and jumps in her squad car, which departs with lights and siren blazing,

“That’s a bit odd. It would only make sense if she’d suddenly remembered that she’d left the front door open.” I’m puzzled as to why none of her colleagues accompanied her.

We finish our coffees and trundle back to Glo’s. We’re next on the list. Though it does take another 10 minutes before our arses are parked inside. Me and Alexei choose exactly the same: 2 egg breakfast with bacon and wholemeal toast. Andrew has exactly the same, just with a single egg.

At least that’s the idea. “I’m sorry, the chef got carried away and yours has two eggs as well. I’m just charging you for one.”

The breakfast is good. Damned good. Even Andrew eats most of it. I feel stuffed. In a good way.

I plan on getting to the airport really early. Partly because we couldn’t check in online yesterday for some reason. Best to have plenty of time in such circumstances.

We pick up our bags and a taxi at our hotel. And soon we’re on the highway. Which is crazily busy for an early Sunday afternoon. Where the hell are all these people going?

We go straight to a Delta counter and explain that we couldn’t check in online. It seems our country of residence was the problem. It hadn’t been filled in. 100% certain I filled that in for all of us on the way out. Why didn’t they still have that information?

I drop by the duty free. The bourbon selection is worse than disappointing. And far worse than what I can get around the corner at Ton Overmars. Let’s get some wine for Dolores instead. I’ve forgotten to get something earlier.

Washington wine will do nicely. Except most of it is hideously expensive – in the $70 - $100 range. Oh look, this one is just $17. A bit pricey for Dolores, but not too crazy. I’ll annoy rather than impress Dolores if I get something expensive.

“That’ll be $37 please, sir.” You what? I must have looked at the wrong price. Dolores is going to garrotte me when I get home.

Our flight is from gate S1. Handily, there’s a seafood place right next to it. Which has a dozen or so draught beers. That’ll do nicely. We get a table and order beers: Sam Adams Lager for Andrew, Pike IPA for me. And cola for Alexei. As usual, Andrew’s knocking back two or three beers to my one.

Alexei is getting anxious about boarding time. Even though we can literally see the board at the gate from our seats.

“You know what I need to finish off the trip?”

“What dad?” the kids ask unenthusiastically.

“A double bourbon. That’s how I usually say goodbye to the US.”

“How predictable, dad.”

The waitress explains that they have a special. If I buy a beer and a bourbon, I get a discount. Though it’s only a single. Oh, go on, then. You only live once.

“Didn’t you say that you only do doubles?”

“Don’t spoil dad’s day, you nitpicking bastards.”

As we’re queueing up to board someone says behind me “Hello neighbours.” I’m confused for a while, but then recognise the American woman who lives a few doors down from us. Now there’s a coincidence.

I’ve the luxury of an empty seat next to me again. What a jammy bastard I am.

As usual, I pull on my noise-cancelling headphones and fire up the in-seat entertainment. It’s the best way to pass the time. I plump for my usual intellectual fare. I watch “Enter Player One” then start watching “Blockers”, but fall quickly asleep. Only to awake when it’s time for breakfast. Perfect. I must have been out for 5 or 6 hours.

My bag appears fairly quickly. And within minutes we’re in a taxi bouncing down the motorway. Racing back to the iterative reality of normal life.



Glo's
1621 E Olive Way,
Seattle,
WA 98102.
Tel: +1 206-324-2577
http://www.gloscafe.com/

An appeal

Dolores keeps saying "Ronald, why can't you sell more books?"

"It's not my fault. Those bastard beer geeks don't appreciate my genuis."

"You could just write books people actually want to read."

"No. No. that would completely betray my principles. And be too commercial."

"Good luck making any money out of your writing, then."

Dolores is so cynical.

Prove her wrong by investing in one of these:

http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/austerity/23181344

http://www.lulu.com/shop/ronald-pattinson/lets-brew/paperback/product-23289812.html

http://www.lulu.com/shop/ronald-pattinson/scotland-vol-2/paperback/product-23090497.html

Vancouver to Seattle

We arise really fucking early. Earlier than I would like to. By two hours. 4:30. Six hours, really, than I’d prefer to get up.

I asked the kids to come to my room at 4:45. The unreliable twats are three minutes late. I’ll be docking their pocket money for that. Or their gin ration, once we get home.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“Chill out, dad. We’ve still more that 10 minutes until our taxi is due.”

We quickly check out and stand outside in the silent darkness. Where’s that taxi? It should have been here ten minutes ago. I’m starting to panic until Andrew says “There it is.”

“Thank the fucking fuck for that.” Little things like a non-appearing taxi can really bugger up a journey.

“You’re very sweary this morning, dad.” Andrew says.

“It must be this fucking ridiculously fucking early fucking start.”

“You’re getting as bad as Lexie.”

“But I only swear in one language. That’s less than half as much, really. As he swears in at least four languages.”

“That makes no sense, dad.”

The recommendation is to be at the station an hour, at least, before the 6:35 departure. Because of the US immigration procedure we have to undergo before boarding.

The station is already busy when we stumble in at 5:20. We join the pleb queue.

“Do you fancy any food or drink for the train?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’ll get some stuff anyway. Sandwiches and drinks.”

I quickly nip into the shop and get sandwiches and cola. They’ll thank me later. And I may as well spend some of these Canadian dollars I have left.

We get the fingerprint treatment again. Just the four right fingers for me and Andrew. While Alexie gets both hands full.

“What’s Lexie been doing online, Andrew? He must be flagged in some security databases.”

Our fellow passengers are an international bunch. The two rows in front of the kids house Aussie pensioners.

The rear pair are two women. At a certain point one of them gets up and goes to a family with several small children sitting a few rows ahead.

“Can you keep your children quiet. We got up very early to catch this train. They’re old enough to read a book or play a game quietly.”

The father is remarkably calm and understanding. I’d have told her to fuck off. Old enough to read a book? One is only just about old enough to walk. Two of the others are under five. They’d been making a little noise, but they’re kids for fuck’s sake. It hasn’t been enough to keep me awake. Some people are just miserable twats. I really don’t get the hatred of children. Especially among some cat lovers.

The train ride is very scenic, mostly hugging the coast, but occasionally streaking across dead flat expanses of farmland. I say streak. Trundle would be more apt. It’s not exactly fast by European standards.

“It looks like polder, dad.” Now Alexei mentions it, it does. It really is dead flat. Though I can’t see the drainage ditches of a polder. Everywhere else is quite hilly. This must be reclaimed land.

I don’t pay as much attention to the view this time. I did the journey a couple of years ago. I’m more interested in catching up on my kip.

Seattle station is quite busy. It looks like another train has just pulled in. That’s probably the only two trains all day.

After the kids have a piss we grab a taxi. The traffic seems very slow for a Saturday.  Then we see the reason for the holdup. As we pass a handful of weirdly dressed men, our taxi driver says: “That’s the KKK.”  It’s an oddly tiny Alt Right demonstration. With an equally tiny counter protest.

Our hotel is in a downtown bit of town. We’re able to check into our rooms, even though it’s not yet noon. That’s good. It really gives us a full day in Seattle.

A maid shares our lift. “You boys are tall” she says. It’s been a recurring theme. What’s it going to be like when we’re in Japan next year?

My room, on the 14th floor (there is no 13th, so I guess this is really the 13th floor, though, if you count the floors the European way, it’s the 12th) has a good view of the motorway. Which is pretty busy, despite it being the weekend. There’s something hypnotising about heavy traffic. When you’re not init. And preferably several hundred metres away behind glass.

I think Alexei was feeling ill yesterday. That's why he was a bit aggressive. I've got the same cold. I could hardly talk this morning. My throat was so croaky. But that was at 5 AM.

For some reason we can't check in for tomorrow's flight. No idea why. Good reason to arrive early. Maybe Alexei has been flagged again.

After consulting my laptop, we head off for some brunch. On foot. It isn’t far. And I need to get some exercise every day at my age.

“The roads here are retarded. Who named them? Some autistic? 1st Avenue - what’s that? And there are too many junctions. You’re always waiting. Totally retarded.”

Alexei must be overheating again.

On the way to our brunch destination, there are some dodgy looking characters hanging around, shouting at each other. Lovely. Free street theatre. They aren’t even passing around a hat.

We brunch at Local 360, a sort of posh diner in Belltown. They sell beer from Belltown Brewing. “I’ll have an IPA.”

“Sorry, we’re out of that. We do have IPA in bottle.”

“I’ll take that then.”

“I’ll have a Lager.” Andrew says.

It turns out to be a can, not a bottle. Of Crikey IPA.

The kids go for a farmer’s breakfast. I have corned beef hash. Not that I can finish it. Doggie bag time again.

We make a detour to a liquor store on the way back to the hotel. Alexei sits outside gazing at the Space Needle. While I get some Jim Beam and Andrew some Pabst Blue Ribbon. Whatever. He’s not snobby at all when it comes to beer.

“Look, dad, there’s one of those Amazon stores. Where they have no tills and you just walk out with stuff.”

“How do they know you aren’t just a shoplifter?”

“No idea.”

“There’s an interesting business model.”

“Is that “interesting” in the British sense, dad?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

Alexei is still getting annoyed at the street plan. “Kanker mongolen.” He repeats several times. His ability to be enraged by random stuff is quite impressive. No idea where he gets it from. I’m as even-tempered as Saint Francis on valium.

We chill in my hotel room for a while. After some cold medicine and a bourbon or two, I liven up.

“Where are we going to eat tonight?” Andrew asks.

“Have a look on my laptop to see what’s close.”

At first he suggests a craft beer and pizza place. Then he notices that there’s a Redhook place just a little further.

“That’ll do.” I say.

We leave Lexie in the room. He’s not feeling great. But has beer. That’s all the company I need.  I’m sure he’ll be fine. He didn’t fancy sitting and watching me and Andrew drink beer again.

Redhook Brewlab isn’t far. But all uphill.  I thought I’d seen the last of enormous hills when we left San Francisco. Fuck, this is steep. I need to pause for breath. I’m getting old.

“It didn’t look this steep on Streetview, dad.”

“At least it’ll be downhill on the way back.”

We sit at the bar. It’s quite busy already – at just 5 PM – and I like sitting at the bar. I guess it’s a habit I’ve acquired from often being in US pubs alone. Much more chance to chat, either with bar staff or fellow bar flies.

"Oh look - they've got a mash filter. That's very unusual for a craft brewery."

"I thought you didn't like the term craft?"

"Stop nitpicking. You know what I mean."

"Why is it so unusual, this filter thing?"

"They're mostly used by big brewers. And Belgians. Only a handful of breweries ever used one in Britain. I don't think there are any now."

I get an IPA and Andrew a Lager. He’s quite keen on this Lager stuff. Though he has drunk other types of beer – particularly Hefeweizen – and cider.


"Can you taste the evil in the beer, Andrew?"

"Why is it evil?"

"Because they sold out to someone."

"Who?"

"I can't remember. Some people who own some other breweries or something."

"That's just crap, dad."

"No, honestly, the minute a brewery sells out, evil immediately permeates their beer. You can taste it."

"Don't talk crap, dad. You know that's bollocks."

"No, it's true. I read it on the internet."

"Stop talking crap, dad."

It’s strange sitting at a bar with Andrew. I dragged him around so many pubs when he was small. And now, here we are, sitting at the bar. Talking as adults. And he isn’t trying to run off.

“Do you have a Stout?”

“We have two Porters. Do you want to try them?”

“Sure.”


They’ve a standard and an Imperial. “I’ll have the ordinary one. Too early for the strong one.”

We order food. A burger for Andrew, pork belly bao for me.

“Did you notice that the beer menu has dollar signs and decimals in the prices, but the food one doesn’t”

“That’s weird, Andrew.”

“It’s psychological. It makes it seem less expensive.”

Alexei asked us to bring to over-order and bring back a doggie back for him. Which we do.

He’s sleeping when we return. But wakes up and gets stuck into the doggy bag. And some bourbon. I finish off my corned beef hash. Though it’s a bit tricky to eat without cutlery. I use one of the paper coffee cups to scoop it up.

We watch some crap TV, drink some beer and whisky and generally chill.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow, dad?”

“Just come down here any time after ten. We’ll hang around in the room until checkout time, dump our bags downstairs then get some brunch. Head off to the airport around 2 PM. So we’ve plenty of time. Probably a good idea as we couldn’t check in online.”

“OK, dad.”

I tumble into sleep down steps of bourbon.



Local 360
2234 1st Ave,
Seattle,
WA 98121.
Tel: +1 206-441-9360
http://www.local360.org/



Redhook Brewlab
Pike Motorworks Building,
714 E Pike St,
Seattle,
WA 98122.
Tel: +1 206-823-3026
http://redhook.com/