Brewaucracy

“I don’t get this campaign. Are we really that interested in beer classification?” — Phil Parkin on CAMRA’s Mild Month (via Twitter).

Before people think I have my own little Phil-worship cult going on here, I’d like to point out that while yes, the last post was entirely dedicated to his film, this one was merely triggered by something he said on twitter which tweaked my cerebellum. He doesn’t pay me, I swear! Plus, I doubt both the readers of this blog will be much of a market for him.

Right, so, grovelling excuses out of the way, what was so intriguing about that quote? I’ll start with it’s subject. I’ve been a CAMRA member for quite a while. I have the utmost respect for what CAMRA have achieved. I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited England a couple of times, and have really enjoyed CAMRA’s presence in pubs, and in absolutely magic beer festivals such as the amazing one Alex and I attended in Margate, Kent. That said, I’ve declined to renew this year. I sense a serious lack of focus and direction within CAMRA, and I get tired of their solution to every regulation-induced problem to be “ask the Government to create yet more regulation”. One campaign I’ve always supported though is May being Mild Month.

I am a huge Mild fan. On my first visit to England, I had some excellent Milds. Elgood’s Black Dog was the first taste (in Cambridge, of course) and after that, I tried them wherever I saw them. I’ve even brewed a few. My favourite was similar to Banks’ Original, and took out a Best In Class at the SOBA National Homebrew Competition a couple of years back. I was surprised, as the sample I’d retained hadn’t lasted very well… but it was a cracker when fresh. That’s another story though…

Britain has always been a nation of classifications. Standardisation abounds, and yet, there is delightful (and less delightful) non-conformity hiding in corners, and in plain sight. In a small pub in Chester, I overheard a punter complaining “that’s never a pint” to the landlady. His not-quite-a-pint was Greene King IPA. I didn’t hear him say “that’s never an IPA”.If CAMRA launched IPAs for April, do you think they’d be celebrating Greene King’s effort? Mild is even more variable than IPA. You have Sarah Hughes Dark Ruby, which is often cited as an example of a historical “strong mild”, but most classification-loving English wouldn’t think it was one. Styles change and shift for so many reasons – economic, geographic, horticultural, as well as the most fickle driver of all – people’s tastes.

And there’s the rub, and the part that suddenly changed my mind on an issue I’ve always been fairly sure of.

Why do we need to “save and preserve” milds if people aren’t that into them? We have a good record of them. We can judge a beer entered into a competition as one. We know exactly what a mild is. Not only that, but the more a beer threatens to fall out of style, the more “the fringe” will always want to brew it, sometimes out of a desire to preserve, but often out of a desire to be different. When a beer style ceases to be brewed, it doesn’t cease to exist. It’s just stored, waiting for someone to resurrect it again in the future.

As homebrewing has grown and flourished recently, moving from that vile stuff that grandad made in the bath to excellent beer which rivals and often surpasses the best of the commercial best, everyone now is a brewer or knows a brewer. If you really want a mild, and you can’t get one down your local, you can always make one or bribe a mate to make one for you. If there are enough of you wanting this, it’s in your local’s interest to provide one, and it’s in their interest to nudge the brewers.

So should the consumer care if the lovely dark beer, with a stunning array of interesting malt flavours, and just enough bitterness to prevent cloying sweetness is technically a mild or not? Should the brewer be made to feel bad if that same beer he has brewed is technically outside the style guidelines? Should CAMRA be flogging this horse quite so hard, when it could actually be limiting creativity, and thus choice, rather than enhancing it? I’m not sure. I’m also not sure it’s a huge issue, but as I said at the beginning, it certainly got me thinking.

Having said all that, I’m well overdue to brew my mild again. It is a lovely drop.

Cheers!

I came across Phil Parkin on twitter due to a mention from well known author and beer blogger Pete Brown. I followed him, and learned he was making a film on a subject which immediately tickled my fancy. I’ve always been amused and a little intrigued by trainspotters. Trainspotting is a remarkably British hobby/obsession. It involves cataloging locomotive numbers – effectively “collecting” rolling stock. The method is fairly simple. You spot a train, and write down its unique number – you “tick it off the list”. This sort of thing strikes a chord with me, as I’m a tiny bit OCD (aren’t we all about something?) and am something of a completist. If I like a band, I need to have everything they’ve ever released. If I enjoy a TV show, I have to see every episode. Since I like beer, I feel a need to drink every one I can find. I am, it seems, a variety of a new breed of trainspotters who “spot” beers. Beertickers. Phil’s film is called Beertickers: beyond the ale and is all about “us”.

The rules, as Phil explains, are simple. You find a new beer, you drink it, you tick it (write it down). Sounds a little dull? How can someone make a whole film about this? Ah, there’s the magic. The journey we are taken on in the quest for ticks is funny, educational, entertaining, and sometimes enlightening. Phil is a very engaging person, who introduces us to characters like Brian the Champ – the reigning king of beer ticking with over 40,000 unique beers under his belt, Dave Unpronounceable – a likable chap who is more scooper than ticker, and Mick the Tick – arguably the man who invented beer ticking as a hobby. These chaps, and others, show us different takes on the world of ticking. Brian the Champ is the archetypal ticker. He’s just interested in the numbers, and while he is clearly passionate about, and proud of, his native country’s ultimate asset (real ale), he thinks nothing of tricks like bottling samples of ale for later consumption as a way to get more ticks from a single session. I can’t imagine that the flavour and condition of a good ale would be preserved by this method, so what Brian drinks from those bottles isn’t, in my opinion, technically the same beer which went into them. This raises an interesting question as to whether it is really a tick at that point. Luckily for those of you reading this and nodding off, the film does not address this deep question! Dave Unpronounceable, and his partner in crime Gazza, are more the scooper type. They are at the outer edge though, as even though for them, it’s beer enjoyment before ticks, even Dave resorts (albeit somewhat shamefacedly) to bottling some beers when his circumstances dictate a lack of time for some serious sampling.

Phil’s journey from interested outsider to devoted ticker (or more accurately, scooper) throughout the course of the film made for an engaging watch. Of particular interest to me was the fact that he took his new hobby as an opportunity to learn more about beer. Such was his dedication that he even went to Thornbridge Hall to brew his own beer. It was nice to hear a Kiwi accent in the film at this point, as Thornbridge’s NZ brewer, Kelly Ryan, walked Phil through brewing a batch of Jaipur IPA with “Phil’s secret ingredients” – a variation on the hop varieties usually used. Having a friend who moved to England and now brews at Thornbridge made this part even better for me. It amuses me to think that, as the man behind the new Raven black IPA at Thornbridge, James “Kempicus” Kemp will now be giving conniptions to tickers all over the UK as they seek out this limited edition beer for ticking purposes!

Now, before people start avoiding me (more than usual), let me point out that I do not go to the lengths described in this film. I’m more what’s called a “Scooper”. Scoopers are tickers who are more interested in trying and tasting new beers rather than just collecting ticks. In other words, the drinking of the beer is the point, not the ticking it off a list. Scoopers drink for variety and flavour, and will happily drink a beer they’ve already had if it’s a good drop and they feel like revisiting it. A true ticker would consider that a waste of an opportunity to drink a new beer. So really, I’m not that far gone in the scheme of things!

I can heartily recommend this film, though it can be a little tricky to obtain for overseas customers. Your best bet is to contact Phil via his website. He kindly arranged an alternative order method for me, and shipping was quick, reasonably priced, and came with a personal message. Don’t be put off by this one little extra hoop to jump through. Quick Feet is a small independent production company, and doesn’t have the resources of large companies. The end result is well worth it. I didn’t stop smiling throughout the entire film.

UPDATE: Phil comments below “Anyone wishing to buy the film can simply visit the film’s official website ( beertickersfilm.com ) and click buy. I will happily post out overseas! Spread the word, drink beer and enjoy.”

Beervana! It’s been and gone. What can I say? It was impressive. Alex, Barry, Allan, and myself all piled into a car and road-tripped down to Wellington and the annual party now known as Beervana for a long weekend of beer related fun. Well, and a SOBA AGM, but mostly fun.

Upon arrival, the first thing we did was head to the ever-awesome Regional Wines and Spirits, to stock up on a few treats and also to say hi to my good friend whom I just don’t see enough of, Kieran Haslett-Moore. After that, we quickly checked into our hotel room, well, I say quickly. We get very lost trying to find the carpark for the place. Turns out we had to navigate a labyrinth of back streets under the motorway. Crazy! Anyway, we eventually got checked in and headed out for an afternoon / evening of beery goodness.

I won’t go into detail, but we had a rather large night between the Malthouse, Bar Edward, and the amazing new Hashigo Zake. I may have awoken at 3am, post earthquake, in the en-suite bathtub, wondering why my bed was cold and hard…

Anyway, I was a little worse for wear the next day, and managed to crawl through an interview on the radler saga with Geoff Griggs for a project by Dylan Jauslin. With that out of the way, I caught up with Alex and the others and we hit Beervana proper.

To the Town Hall, a short wait in line, and we were in. Paradise. The event I look forward to every year. It was great to see so many brewers and beer people I knew, meet a few I didn’t know, and taste some excellent beers. The layout was different this year, dividing the Town Hall into several different areas, and making the process of finding the beer you wanted to taste feel like an exploration. Some were complaining about this, but I loved it. As Alex will testify, it did lead to a few problems. I’d go looking for a beer, run into a friend, spend 10 minutes talking, then realise what I was supposed to be doing. I’d get back from my sortie to a missing wife, having given up waiting for me and my mouth, and gone searching for beer of her own. Never mind, it was all great fun.

I’ll list some highlights here, since that’s what one does in these sort of posts…

• Epic Armageddon from Melissa – a seriously drinkable drop, and I was so glad to be wrong in my prediction that it would be a vanilla bomb and seriously oxidised. Not a bit of it. Just tasty.
• Emerson’s Southern Clam Stout – Almost a clone of the equally awesome Three Boys Oyster Stout, but still an amazing achievement.
• Twisted Hop IPA – My first ever taste of this legendary drop, and I was so impressed I gave it my people’s choice award.
• Yeastie Boys His Majesty – Majestic indeed. I need more of this (hint, Stu, though it’s a long time until my birthday).
• Hargreaves Hill ESB – A searingly bitter and hoppy beer. Not an ESB, more an APA, but made of awesome either way.
• Croucher Pale Ale – And this one’s a pale ale that’s actually an ESB! The hops are back though, and it really is like fruit salad on Weetbix. A great beer from a good friend, Paul Croucher, and super tasty served on handpump.

Honourable mention has to go to Martin Townshend. His Number 9 Stout, and Cathcarts NTA were both tasting on top form, and true to his goal, were extremely “English” tasting.

So there you go. There were other great beers. And other excellent events – I particularly enjoyed Derek Walsh’s cheese and beer pairing session. Derek is a really nice guy, and always has time to talk beer with us beer geeks.

The only downer for me of the whole weekend was that I went so hard on the Thursday night I just really didn’t have the energy for other post Beervana drinks, so missed out on catching up with all the great people I usually love to see in Wellington. Sorry guys. See you next year?

I know it’s a bit of a silly title for a post, what with Armageddon being an absolute and all. I wanted to get a reference in there to Maximus also though. You’ll see why soon…

Alex and I trekked up to Auckland on Friday afternoon – any old excuse for some time off work. Our purpose? To witness Ragnarok. No, wait… that’s not it. Doomsday! Nope… still not right… ARMAGEDDON!

We arrived at Brew on Quay around 5pm to find the place already humming. There was a certain aroma in the air. Was it… hops? Yep, that was it. As we approached the bar, we saw why. The infamous Impish Brewer himself was passing out pints like a man possessed. This was a good thing. As I chatted to the Imp, I sipped my pint of Armageddon. Others have raved about the hops, and to be sure, they were more than present, but my lasting impression was a beautifully balanced, supremely sessionable beer. Lovely tropical and citrus hop flavours, combining with sweet and complex malt in beautiful ways. This beer is a temptress, beckoning you to her bed. Except, at a devilish 6.66%, that bed may well be the floor, or the couch at home if you had a less understanding significant other than I do! So, my verdict on Armageddon: it’s a session IPA, and one I’d drink every day of the week if I could get it. Well done Mr. Imp.

Now. Maximus Humulus Lupulus. Massive name, massive beer. This one throws balance and sessionability to the wind in favour of hops. Just hops. But WHAT hops! The citrussy flavours just jump out of the glass and demand your full attention. Several times I was talking to someone, and had to say “excuse me, could you repeat that? I was lost in hop heaven for a minute there”. You get the impression that there is sweet sticky malt there in abundance, but it’s just an impression. There isn’t anything cloying about this beer, but your tongue is numbed from the hops after a glass. It’s a one pint drop to be sure. That said, I’d want that one pint as often as I could get it.

I wish these beers weren’t seasonal releases. They both fill a gap in the NZ market where nothing else exists, and I’d love to be able to buy them all year around. With massive hoppy beers like this though, freshness is imperative, and I don’t think New Zealand’s retailers are yet up to the challenge of ensuring these beers would reach the consumer in tip top condition. Ah, but one can dream…

So, the verdict? Which do I pledge my undying love to? Tricky. See, Armageddon is the beer you want around all the time. The pint after work, the aperitif before dinner, the first pint at 8am in the morni…erm, never mind. Anyway, Armageddon is the “go to” beer of the two. BUT. Maximus is the one I couldn’t stand to never be able to taste again. It’s just unique, and a beautiful example of how to use American hops. Is it a cop out to say I love them both, but differently? I know I could never get away with that with women! Well, so it is, and so it remains. Either way, I want some more!

A very good year!

For my birthday this year, my long suffering yet beer-friendly wife brought me a beer that was brewed and bottled the same year I was! Or something. Anyway, for those who aren’t aware of such beer-nerdy things, Thomas Hardy’s ale is something of an icon in the world of beer. Originally brewed due to the refurbishment of a pub and to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the death of the eponymous author, this is a strong barley-wine style beer of extremely high collectible value.

More akin to a fine brandy than a beer, and reputed to age up to 25 years, this 34 year old example was always going to be interesting.

I opted to share it with some very close beer-loving friends; Phil, Jamie, and Barry (and, of course, my wife Alexandra). We had warmed up on Barry’s home brewed Irish Red ale, and his Oatmeal stout. We decided then to begin with a Thomas Hardy’s ale from 2005, followed by 2004, then 2003, and finally the 1975 from the original brewers, Eldridge Pope.

The 2005 was sharp, and somewhat candied, with a slightly brandy-like bite to it. The 2004 was smooth, mellow, and a slow sipping joy. The 2003 was most people’s favourite, with so much richness – it reminded me of a brandy-soaked christmas cake. But then came time for the main event. The tiny little 180ml nip bottle, the contents of which had been so constrained since 1975. I have to admit, I did not have high hopes.

It poured a beautiful mahogany brown, shot through with ruby red highlights against the stormy light from outside the windows. The aroma was of raisins, fine cigar smoke, and wood – similar to an old chest long misplaced in an attic somewhere. All that was missing was a hint of mothballs, and the mind conjured that up unbidden anyway!

The first sip was disappointing. The autolysis I had expected to dominate was either not present, or had mutated far beyond the usual marmite-style flavour as to be unrecognisable as such. Musty flavours permeated, but the rich, raisiny, port-like quality of the newer batches was there yet, hidden behind the dust of ages. Phil suggested that some swirling had opened his up, and that it may benefit from breathing for a tad. I left mine for an hour or so, until the others had finished and left, and came back to it.

As I sup the last bit now, it really has opened up. Age has not damaged this beer as much as I’d have expected, though I’d doubt it would benefit from any further aging. A sweetness remains, amazingly, gentle, and fruity, against the nutty, woody character which dominates. Notes of cherries are present, as well as dried figs. The finish is ever so slightly sharp and bitter, but with a gentle tannic dustyness.

Wow, what an experience. Thirty four year old beer. I feel privileged to have tasted it, and humbled before the craftsmanship of the brewer who made it.

What a day!

There are some more photos online here.

Saxbys Bar has just had a bit of an upgrade. I bought this on trademe the other day. Wine pump? It’s a beer engine! Still, the seller was great to deal with, I just felt a little bad for him as I’m sure he’d have got triple the price had he listed it as a beer engine, and not had the auction close at 7am!

Anyway, I got the beastie home and hooked it up, anxious to pull some water through it to test the hydraulics. I began pulling, and could hear it priming. Then I could hear water running. But not into the jug I was carefully holding under the spout. In fact, I couldn’t see where it was going at all. Then I noticed. It was squirting out a tube at the rear of the cylinder, into the back of my bar, all over my clean glassware. Damn!

I disconnected it, and took it to bits. I found some interesting things. Firstly, the spout is only hollow to the base, where it connects with the pump cylinder. At that point it’s a solid piece of machined steel! Welded to the spout just above this join is another piece of steel tubing. This IS hollow. At the rear of the cylinder, as explained earlier, is a third metal tube. This is where the fluid exits! Someone has well and truly hacked this beer engine. Why? I guess I’ll never know. Anyway, after cleaning and reassembly, I simply connected a piece of tubing from the rear tube to the spout-welded tube, which then allows fluid to flow correctly out the spout when pumped.

After all that, despite being a “mini-engine” designed for small bars where space is at a premium, it works beautifully. It’s a quarter pint pull, and seems to have no leaks. I just need to bust out the brasso now – all three could use some love.

Here are my three babies in their natural habitat.

I just wish I had the brewing capacity/budget, and army of thirsty friends required to keep all three pumps operating full time. Still, it will be great for the twice-yearly beer festivals!

I’ve been holding off moving the blog for weeks months years now. I don’t know why. There was sod all worth keeping. Anyway, since I mostly talk about beer, the new blog is very beer oriented.

Being heavily associated with SOBA, things I wish to write often get linked to SOBA’s views. Let me assure you that anything I say here is 100% my own opinion. It might not reflect that of SOBA. At times it might flat out contradict SOBA. That’s what opinions are like. Mine will be hanging out here for any and all to see.

If you’re a frequent visitor to the Brewaucracy Brewery Tap (Saxbys Bar), you might also notice that on the right hand side of the page is a handy little sidebar telling you what’s on tap, and what’s coming soon. It even has it’s own RSS feed! This could be used to plan your visits! Remember, I can’t charge you for it, and it needs to be consumed, so when you drink my beer, you’re doing me a favour.

I might also talk a bit about my partners in Brewaucracy (which at the moment is just a concept, and a blog name), Phil Murray and Jamie Curtis. What exactly is it? When will it exist? What shall become of our bubbly amber plans? Who knows. Stay tuned…

An old post from my old blog, in which Alex and I once again head to Wellington for the delights of BrewNZ.

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Another old post – my first review of BrewNZ in 2005.

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Migrated from my old blog, a bit of a wrap-up on my old band, the ever under-achieving Still.

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