The trouble with predictions is you have to wait to see if they come true. But fortunately the tedious waiting business can be done away with if you manage to dig out old predictions, which is precisely what I did recently when rummaging round the JIB archives.
H. Lloyd Hind presented a paper in nearly 90 years ago called "The Beer Of The Future", which as well as containing his prediction of how beer will develop contains some fascinating facts about beer at the time. First it's makes clear that Henry Armstrong was not the only person unhappy with the big drop in beer strength due to the First World War, for quality had similarly fallen:
"...so many complaints that beer is not what it should be are heard"
The obvious solution didn't seem viable though:
"It may, of course, be argued that if beer were made of its pre-war strength all would be well, no right-thinking man would complain of the article, and no brewer need look for any improvement in his method of making it. There can, indeed, be no doubt that a very high degree of quality had been attained in the old strong beers, but , considered quite apart from any economic changes that have been brought about in recent years, there seems a tendency to demand something else from beer than mere strength, body or alcohol content, which are mainly sought after by workers in heavy manual occupations"
Though British brewers are now known for the excellent quality of their modestly strong beers it seems this was not the case when they first became the norm. In words echoed by many beer writers to this day the author bemoans that beer is seldom served with meals, but admits that all too often the beer quality is not up to scratch:
"Beers for the most part fall far below the standard set up. Sometimes they have condition, but the haze or sediment in them makes their appearance impossible on the table of a well-managed restaurant or café, or if brilliant they may lack the sparkle and lasting head demanded."
Continent brewers however were doing a better job:
"I am afraid we must admit that Continental brewers have been more successful in producing beer with the consistent sparkling, brilliant, and head-retaining condition aimed at, and in certain parts of the Continent the glass of beer regularly appears on the dinner table and reigns supreme in the café. Here it still has the taint of the poor relation, and there seems to be an idea that one is lacking in hospitality if beer if offered instead of wine. This should not be in a country which prides itself that beer is the national drink,and I think the time will come when this reproach will be a thing of the past."
Again he mentions the quality of the pre-war beers but says there's no going back:
"The old time beers were splendid in their way. The strong ales that came brilliant naturally by long storage, and the pale ales which after a few months were absolutely brilliant and left their sediment firmly on the bottom of the bottle or the cask. In their very excellence, however, lies their defect - if one may put it that way - they are too strong for ordinary meal-time use."
He then at length discusses the different practices used by Continental and American brewers compared to ones in Britain, which to stray briefly into the realm of Ron includes the fascinating revelations that by the end of WWI 40% of German beer production was top fermented, and in the early 1920s the Reinheitsgebot seems to have been abandoned.
He eventually comes to the conclusion that improved manufacturing techniques should be able to produce a stable, chilled, filtered product, possibly but not necessarily lager, matured in the brewery and served under CO2 pressure on draught with high class beer having an original gravity around 1.050 and a larger quantity of weaker beer at about 1.040.
Which is pretty much how things have ended up, and his assertion that there's no going back to the brilliant ales of before the First World War has sadly proved true.
Thankfully though, many of the improvements in processes the author championed and vigorous campaigning means unfiltered cask beer served without added CO2 continues to exist to this day, and the rise of craft beer means beers of pre-WWI strength are becoming increasingly easily available.
I wonder what beer will be like 90 years from now?
Monday, 12 August 2013
Saturday, 10 August 2013
What a load of bollocks
I particularly enjoyed the IBD magazine this month, though one article did make me wince. There's a three page feature on Rocky Mountain Oyster Stout, a beer made with bull's testicles.
You may find it difficult to swallow but apparently it's real and available in twin packs. It seems this seminal beer started out as an April fool but then they decided to make it for real. The article even shows the testicles being sliced up for roasting before they go in the beer. Water, malt, hops, yeast and bollocks: even when he was taking the piss Stuart Howe didn't go that far. Surely this is the ultimate in terms of bizarre things put in beer?
You may find it difficult to swallow but apparently it's real and available in twin packs. It seems this seminal beer started out as an April fool but then they decided to make it for real. The article even shows the testicles being sliced up for roasting before they go in the beer. Water, malt, hops, yeast and bollocks: even when he was taking the piss Stuart Howe didn't go that far. Surely this is the ultimate in terms of bizarre things put in beer?
Wednesday, 31 July 2013
A trip to the North Pole
We had a pub crawl research trip around Islington the other week. We started at the Craft Beer Co., which unlike most craft beer bars has the benefit of being a pub.
Though the definition of craft beer is a thing of great controversy amongst beer nerds on this side of the Atlantic, craft beer bars are much easier to define: places with a good range of beers where scotch eggs cost a fiver. Because of this we'd come prepared:
The Craft Beer Co. had a good range of beer but they were a bit on the warm side so we soon went the short walk to the Hundred Crows Rising for a delicious drop of Old Dairy.
It was time to get trekking after that, and we were able to satisfy our new found love of canals on the way to our next stop.
It was an excellent looking old gin palace called The Island Queen that we were heading to.
It was Landlord for me here, but we could only stop for one as our goal was to reach the North Pole and that takes some serious trekking. OK, not that serious really as it was another pub we'd definitely reached a North London post code and that was quite North enough for us. This was where we had the best beer, look they had all three colours:
Saltaire Triple Chocoholic was probably the pick of the bunch.
Having reached the North Pole things could only really go down from there. We didn't booze with our meal at the Guanabana, nice milkshake mind but the food wasn't quite what we'd hoped for, and then it was just a swifty before the train at the Coal Hole, which didn't set the Thames on fire.
Though the definition of craft beer is a thing of great controversy amongst beer nerds on this side of the Atlantic, craft beer bars are much easier to define: places with a good range of beers where scotch eggs cost a fiver. Because of this we'd come prepared:
 |
| 50p each seems much more reasonable |
The Craft Beer Co. had a good range of beer but they were a bit on the warm side so we soon went the short walk to the Hundred Crows Rising for a delicious drop of Old Dairy.
It was time to get trekking after that, and we were able to satisfy our new found love of canals on the way to our next stop.
It was an excellent looking old gin palace called The Island Queen that we were heading to.
It was Landlord for me here, but we could only stop for one as our goal was to reach the North Pole and that takes some serious trekking. OK, not that serious really as it was another pub we'd definitely reached a North London post code and that was quite North enough for us. This was where we had the best beer, look they had all three colours:
 |
| Yellow, brown and black: what a selection! |
Wednesday, 24 July 2013
Seventy Rolling Years by Sydney O Nevile
One thing I remembered from the Ronathon I recently enjoyed was the mention of a book about a brewer's seventy year long career that sounded right up my street. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology a 50 year old book had soon landed on my doormat and more fascinating facts were making their way into my head.
The book covers Sydney O Nevile's 70 year long career in the brewing industry from a pupilage aged 14 in 1888 through to being on the board of Whitbread and just about every industry committee. Though he tends to focus more on policies he was involved in shaping, rather than technical details of brewing, there was still plenty to keep me interested.
His tale of the tribulations suffered by breweries in the early years of the twentieth century really make it look like we're having it easy in the early years of the twenty first.
"There must be few today who realize the manifold trials and tribulations of the brewers in those days; the continual political attacks, and the absurd prejudices of the licensing authorities, to say nothing of the reckless purchase of public houses at high prices and cut-throat competition for the trade of free houses at prices below the cost of production; a combination of disasters and ineptitude which lead to many large concerns in the metropolis and elsewhere being unable to pay dividends on their shares, and in some cases interest on their debentures."
The anti-alcohol lobby today really aren't a patch on the miserable puritans that at one point had a disturbing degree of influence. That in the middle of the First World War the Prime Minister can say: "We are fighting Germany, Austria and drink; and as far as I can see, the greatest of these deadly foes is drink" really shows quite how over the top their influence became. Intriguingly later on in the book the author states that one of the reasons there were less restrictions on drink during the Second World War is because it had caused industrial unrest, but provides no further details.
Surprisingly the author was in favour of the restricted pub opening hours brought in during WWI, which were to a large extent still in force when I started drinking and still influence my drinking habits to this day. I've got the hang of drinking through the afternoon mind, but I'm still seldom up to drinking past 11 pm.
The author describes how he was involved in a long battle to improve pubs, something that I don't think would be controversial today, but was very problematic back then as it was seen to be encouraging drinking.
In fact he was keen to not only improve the buildings but change their character by doing things like serving food and soft drinks. Eventually he won support from the industry and the authorities, and one of the pubs he talks about is near me in Guildford. Sadly it's now a shop, but then again a pub changing use is not quite as big a change as the fact that Whitbread is no longer a brewer.
During Nevile's career the number of breweries in Britain went from over 10,000 to under 500, which makes the current rise in brewery numbers seem relatively modest. As now, many were very small though, and he unambiguously states that industrial beer was of better quality. His policy was that "quality not cheapness is the foundation of success" which really makes me wonder when the big breweries decided to reverse it! Certainly the management of Whitbread were concerned about the flavour of their beer, when Nevile got a job on the board he had to promise not to carbonate the bottled beer (though that didn't stop him doing it in the end).
Another delight in the book include confirmation that White's Golding was the original name of Whitbread Golding Varitey. I'd not been too happy only having The Encircling Hop as a reference for that so it's good to hear it from the man at Whitbread who bought Beltring farm where the variety originated.
I was also interested to see that there used to be an exception from beer duty for very small producers, a situation that still exists today for cider makers.
His comments on cellarmanship, made before 1910 are rather depressing though:
"My attention was particularly directed to lack of training when studying the difficulties of the brewing trade during the early years of the century. At that time, as a result of minor research by way of systematic sampling from a number of houses during a period of some months, I found the average quality of the beer offered to the customer fell far below standard. I found, too, that cellars were not always as clean as they should have been; they were often badly and uneconomically designed, in many, the temperatures (so important a consideration) were neither uniform nor consistent, and there were other defects traceable to the scanty knowledge of cellar management among those in charge and their unskilled employees. The natural result of such mismanagement of cellars already unsuitable was of course that the quality of the beer which reached the consumer was unsatisfactory."
I wouldn't be surprised to something like that written today, it's enough to turn you to keg beer!*
The mystery of milk stout is also made clear thanks to his involvement in making Mackesons a national brand, firstly how it initially had problems from the customs authorities and secondly how the term 'milk' came to be dropped:
"Some years before our acquisition of the brewery, the Mackeson company had taken up certain patents in connection with the use of lactose, a form of sugar obtained from milk, and had put on the market a stout sold as 'Mackeson's Milk Stout'. The merit of lactose lay in its being non-fermentable and it gave the stout a smooth taste as well as dietetic value. The output when we bought the business was small and at first there was doubt whether the product would be worth continuing. But presently inquiries came from different parts of the country, asking where Mackeson's Milk Stout could be got, the inquirers having been on holiday in Kent. It looked as if the demand might be greater than expected. I found on investigation that the quality was impaired by certain restrictions imposed by the customs authorities on the use of lactose, restrictions which seemed to me capable of revision. I was able to arrange with the heads of Customs for these to be modified."
Not entirely certain what the restrictions were, but with customs involved it probably related to duty, milk stouts having a high original gravity but low ABV due to the non-fermentability of lactose. He continues:
"After the end of the war the Ministry [of Food] embarked on a campaign to ensure the correct terminology of food sold for public consumption. They held that the term 'Milk' was an incorrect description, since 'whole' milk was not used, the 'milk' element - lactose - being merely a sugar obtained from whey, one of the by-products of cheese making. There was much criticism of the Ministry's action as officious interference, but they stuck to their guns and indicated that if the term was continued in use, a restrictive order would follow. So the word 'Milk' was dropped and, so far as were were concerned, the term 'Mackeson's Stout' was established in its place.
So no actual ban of the term was put in place, just the threat of a ban.
The book details Sydney O Nevile's 70 year long career, but in his obituary written in 1969 it talks of his 80 years in the brewing industry, and mentions how it was his foresight and work that eventually lead to the foundation of the Brewing Industry Research Foundation for which I'm sure we're all grateful.
The book was an interesting account of a long and active life in brewing. Thanks to Ron for the recommendation!
* Only joking.
The book covers Sydney O Nevile's 70 year long career in the brewing industry from a pupilage aged 14 in 1888 through to being on the board of Whitbread and just about every industry committee. Though he tends to focus more on policies he was involved in shaping, rather than technical details of brewing, there was still plenty to keep me interested.
His tale of the tribulations suffered by breweries in the early years of the twentieth century really make it look like we're having it easy in the early years of the twenty first.
"There must be few today who realize the manifold trials and tribulations of the brewers in those days; the continual political attacks, and the absurd prejudices of the licensing authorities, to say nothing of the reckless purchase of public houses at high prices and cut-throat competition for the trade of free houses at prices below the cost of production; a combination of disasters and ineptitude which lead to many large concerns in the metropolis and elsewhere being unable to pay dividends on their shares, and in some cases interest on their debentures."
The anti-alcohol lobby today really aren't a patch on the miserable puritans that at one point had a disturbing degree of influence. That in the middle of the First World War the Prime Minister can say: "We are fighting Germany, Austria and drink; and as far as I can see, the greatest of these deadly foes is drink" really shows quite how over the top their influence became. Intriguingly later on in the book the author states that one of the reasons there were less restrictions on drink during the Second World War is because it had caused industrial unrest, but provides no further details.
Surprisingly the author was in favour of the restricted pub opening hours brought in during WWI, which were to a large extent still in force when I started drinking and still influence my drinking habits to this day. I've got the hang of drinking through the afternoon mind, but I'm still seldom up to drinking past 11 pm.
The author describes how he was involved in a long battle to improve pubs, something that I don't think would be controversial today, but was very problematic back then as it was seen to be encouraging drinking.
In fact he was keen to not only improve the buildings but change their character by doing things like serving food and soft drinks. Eventually he won support from the industry and the authorities, and one of the pubs he talks about is near me in Guildford. Sadly it's now a shop, but then again a pub changing use is not quite as big a change as the fact that Whitbread is no longer a brewer.
 |
| This used to be the Bull's Head |
During Nevile's career the number of breweries in Britain went from over 10,000 to under 500, which makes the current rise in brewery numbers seem relatively modest. As now, many were very small though, and he unambiguously states that industrial beer was of better quality. His policy was that "quality not cheapness is the foundation of success" which really makes me wonder when the big breweries decided to reverse it! Certainly the management of Whitbread were concerned about the flavour of their beer, when Nevile got a job on the board he had to promise not to carbonate the bottled beer (though that didn't stop him doing it in the end).
Another delight in the book include confirmation that White's Golding was the original name of Whitbread Golding Varitey. I'd not been too happy only having The Encircling Hop as a reference for that so it's good to hear it from the man at Whitbread who bought Beltring farm where the variety originated.
I was also interested to see that there used to be an exception from beer duty for very small producers, a situation that still exists today for cider makers.
His comments on cellarmanship, made before 1910 are rather depressing though:
"My attention was particularly directed to lack of training when studying the difficulties of the brewing trade during the early years of the century. At that time, as a result of minor research by way of systematic sampling from a number of houses during a period of some months, I found the average quality of the beer offered to the customer fell far below standard. I found, too, that cellars were not always as clean as they should have been; they were often badly and uneconomically designed, in many, the temperatures (so important a consideration) were neither uniform nor consistent, and there were other defects traceable to the scanty knowledge of cellar management among those in charge and their unskilled employees. The natural result of such mismanagement of cellars already unsuitable was of course that the quality of the beer which reached the consumer was unsatisfactory."
I wouldn't be surprised to something like that written today, it's enough to turn you to keg beer!*
The mystery of milk stout is also made clear thanks to his involvement in making Mackesons a national brand, firstly how it initially had problems from the customs authorities and secondly how the term 'milk' came to be dropped:
"Some years before our acquisition of the brewery, the Mackeson company had taken up certain patents in connection with the use of lactose, a form of sugar obtained from milk, and had put on the market a stout sold as 'Mackeson's Milk Stout'. The merit of lactose lay in its being non-fermentable and it gave the stout a smooth taste as well as dietetic value. The output when we bought the business was small and at first there was doubt whether the product would be worth continuing. But presently inquiries came from different parts of the country, asking where Mackeson's Milk Stout could be got, the inquirers having been on holiday in Kent. It looked as if the demand might be greater than expected. I found on investigation that the quality was impaired by certain restrictions imposed by the customs authorities on the use of lactose, restrictions which seemed to me capable of revision. I was able to arrange with the heads of Customs for these to be modified."
Not entirely certain what the restrictions were, but with customs involved it probably related to duty, milk stouts having a high original gravity but low ABV due to the non-fermentability of lactose. He continues:
"After the end of the war the Ministry [of Food] embarked on a campaign to ensure the correct terminology of food sold for public consumption. They held that the term 'Milk' was an incorrect description, since 'whole' milk was not used, the 'milk' element - lactose - being merely a sugar obtained from whey, one of the by-products of cheese making. There was much criticism of the Ministry's action as officious interference, but they stuck to their guns and indicated that if the term was continued in use, a restrictive order would follow. So the word 'Milk' was dropped and, so far as were were concerned, the term 'Mackeson's Stout' was established in its place.
So no actual ban of the term was put in place, just the threat of a ban.
The book details Sydney O Nevile's 70 year long career, but in his obituary written in 1969 it talks of his 80 years in the brewing industry, and mentions how it was his foresight and work that eventually lead to the foundation of the Brewing Industry Research Foundation for which I'm sure we're all grateful.
The book was an interesting account of a long and active life in brewing. Thanks to Ron for the recommendation!
* Only joking.
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Bottle bomb?
I recently found out that there's a group of militant french wine makers waging guerrilla warfare. Impressively bonkers, it makes the brewing industry look like a very sober and sensible bunch.
Friday, 19 July 2013
Craft beer revolution predicted in 1924!
That's the American craft beer revolution that emerged from home brewers interested in making tasty beers to be more specific.
Rummaging through the archives of the Journal of the Institute of Brewing can bring some unexpected findings. Since the entire back catalogue went online I've been looking for more on Horace Brown and I've recently branched out into his friend Henry Armstrong, as he seems a very entertaining character. Seeing that he had a paper called "Humour and its potency - a character study" I thought that sounds like fun so it was a definite one for downloading.
As it turns out the meat of the paper seems to be about (incorrectly) saying that water molecules aren't polar, but being a quality eccentric it takes him a couple of pages to get into that, as he once again takes the opportunity to decry the state of post-WWI beer, and brewers concerned too much with science and not enough with the art of brewing and the flavour of beer. This time though he mentions a glimmer of hope shining from an unexpected source:
"I am told, by recent visitors to the USA, that prohibition has lost its terrors. As was formerly the custom in this country, householders are taking to brew their own beer and gradually learning the art. We may look forward to a new race of Re-brewers being developed, more worthy in the eyes of society than the Re-seachers, whose office it will be to repeat the miracle of Canaan in Galilee [i.e turn water into wine]. The critic of flavour will again come to the fore, under such a system."
Though he may have been rather more farsighted than he thought, it's still fascinating to see that back in 1924 an eminent brewing scientist was saying that brewing has become too concerned with the technicalities to the detriment of the flavour, and that hope lies in home brewers!
Rummaging through the archives of the Journal of the Institute of Brewing can bring some unexpected findings. Since the entire back catalogue went online I've been looking for more on Horace Brown and I've recently branched out into his friend Henry Armstrong, as he seems a very entertaining character. Seeing that he had a paper called "Humour and its potency - a character study" I thought that sounds like fun so it was a definite one for downloading.
As it turns out the meat of the paper seems to be about (incorrectly) saying that water molecules aren't polar, but being a quality eccentric it takes him a couple of pages to get into that, as he once again takes the opportunity to decry the state of post-WWI beer, and brewers concerned too much with science and not enough with the art of brewing and the flavour of beer. This time though he mentions a glimmer of hope shining from an unexpected source:
"I am told, by recent visitors to the USA, that prohibition has lost its terrors. As was formerly the custom in this country, householders are taking to brew their own beer and gradually learning the art. We may look forward to a new race of Re-brewers being developed, more worthy in the eyes of society than the Re-seachers, whose office it will be to repeat the miracle of Canaan in Galilee [i.e turn water into wine]. The critic of flavour will again come to the fore, under such a system."
Though he may have been rather more farsighted than he thought, it's still fascinating to see that back in 1924 an eminent brewing scientist was saying that brewing has become too concerned with the technicalities to the detriment of the flavour, and that hope lies in home brewers!
Tuesday, 16 July 2013
No one Ever Told Me About Chiron!
Back when I were a lad I memorised the names of all the planets. I don't use any of that fancy mnemonic malarkey, just the names in order from the sun:
Back in those pre-internet days I was rather proud I'd crammed into my brain some facts that were occasionally of use. So I was rather distressed when browsing though a dictionary of science to see an entry for Chiron describing it as a "minor planet". "No one ever told me about Chiron!" I cried, appalled that my teachers had been withholding information from me. I soon learnt that teachers are often economical with the facts, so much so that I shortened "No one ever told me about Chiron" to the acronym of NETMAC as it was a lot less effort.
This all came back to me when I saw Thornbridge had brought out a beer called Chiron. Presumably they had a similar experience at school and wanted to publicise the fact.
It took me ages to track a bottle down, eventually I saw it in Cobbetts Real Ale. It's an American pale ale, so as you would expect, lots of citrussy hops, and it went down very nicely. I'd happily drink it again.
- Mercury
- Venus
- Earth
- Mars
- Jupiter
- Saturn
- Uranus
- Neptune
- Pluto
Back in those pre-internet days I was rather proud I'd crammed into my brain some facts that were occasionally of use. So I was rather distressed when browsing though a dictionary of science to see an entry for Chiron describing it as a "minor planet". "No one ever told me about Chiron!" I cried, appalled that my teachers had been withholding information from me. I soon learnt that teachers are often economical with the facts, so much so that I shortened "No one ever told me about Chiron" to the acronym of NETMAC as it was a lot less effort.
This all came back to me when I saw Thornbridge had brought out a beer called Chiron. Presumably they had a similar experience at school and wanted to publicise the fact.
It took me ages to track a bottle down, eventually I saw it in Cobbetts Real Ale. It's an American pale ale, so as you would expect, lots of citrussy hops, and it went down very nicely. I'd happily drink it again.
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