South and North

This is the last of my posts about my trip to the UK a few weeks ago, mainly because I didn't really take lots of pictures of the many beers I drank while I was there. For example, I have no pictures from the wonderful pub crawl I went on in Inverness with a long time friend of mine, unless you are interested in Aitken founts that is (and if you are interested, Black Isle Bar & Rooms on Church Street is the place to go). Even for this post, I only have a couple of pictures.

With the conference over, we arranged to meet at Piccadilly Circus, but I had about 90 minutes before meeting up, so I dropped my laptop at my hotel, nipped to Westminster Abbey to get a key chain of the venerable building for one of my sons, and experienced unexpected garden envy.

To get to Piccadilly Circus from Westminster Abbey, I had decided to skirt St James' Park on Horse Guards Road, past the Horse Guards Parade - being an army brat it was instantly recognisable from many viewings of Trooping the Colour on TV. Before you reach the Parade itself, you pass Duck Island Cottage, which had the delightful garden you can see above, it made me miss my little garden back in Virginia.

I have to admit that walking around the City of Westminster was one of my favourite things, and the stroll from Westminster Abbey to Piccadilly was a delight, though obviously with a distinct lack of traffic cones on the statuary. Even so, I had badly mistimed how long it would take, and so ended up at Piccadilly Circus a good 30 minutes before I had arranged to meet everyone else. What to do then? Well, find a pub obviously, so I looked up pubs in the streets just off the Circus itself. St James Tavern it was then, a corner pub where Great Windmill Street meets Shaftesbury Avenue. Finding a spot at the bar, I may have mentioned this before, but I loved being in buzzing, busy pubs again, I squeezed in and ordered a pint of London Pride.

By this point in my trip, I was having an identity crisis, as I was actively enjoying pints of best made with crystal malts, and London Pride fresh from cask is such a lovely beer, even without a sparkler on the swan neck. Perhaps it is a case of absence making the heart grow fonder, and in many ways this is stating the obvious, compared to the stuff we get in Virginia, proper Pride is night and day. I reviewed my Old Friends post about Pride as I was drinking this first pint, and the biggest difference is the brightness of being fresh, and the hops are actually obviously present. Since returning to the US, I have longed to just sit in a London pub enjoying multiple pints of fresh Pride. As it was, I had time for a second before meeting up with the folks I was at the conference with.

I wish I could remember the pub that we went to immediately after meeting, but eventually we wound our way to a Sam Smiths pub called the Glasshouse Stores. This was the first time I had ever been in a Sam Smith's pub, and unfortunately they didn't have any of their famous beers on cask, everything was keg. Having got our orders in, I started on my trek through the various bitters available, we snagged a seat, all the while keeping a beady eye on the table in the charming bay window, so we could relocate once it was available. It wasn't long before we took our opportunity, and by this time I had relished the dark mild as my precursor to the bitters - a lovely beer from memory, the kind of thing that would make for a wonderful autumnal session with the rain pouring outside. I had also had the first of a couple of pints of Sovereign Bitter. Eventually though I would settle on the Old Brewery Bitter as my tipple of choice, no doubt lamenting aloud that it wasn't on cask.

Apparently we moved on to a few other stops, but I have no pictures of those, either mental or on my camera - yeah, drinking at scale happened and it had started to gently rain...I may have got myself a little turned around walking back to my hotel, but eventually I made it to my bed and gratefully collapsed in a heap.

Timmy in Thames Town

Having left the Westminster Arms, I had a very particular pub to wander to, for family reasons that are probably daft. I had promised my younger twin son that I would visit a pub called The Albert, as that is his first name.

The Albert is a Greene King pub, but it is also listed on the Timothy Taylor website's Pub Finder tool as a permanent stockist of their beers, so I knew that if nothing else took my fancy there would be something from Timothy Taylor as a guest beer. Sure enough, once I had squeezed my way through the crowd - something I loved about being back in the UK was seeing groups of pub-goers standing with pints on the street, I immediately spotted the Timothy Taylor Landlord pump clip and knew what I was going to drink.

From memory - taking notes in a crowded pub was very much not on the schedule - Landlord in The Albert was in good nick, wonderfully hoppy, and far too easy to down in a handful of mouthfuls. Landlord is a classic for a reason, and eventually I need to brew myself a clone recipe, especially taking into account the evolution of the Timothy Taylor yeast to require invert sugar - every other attempt I have made has been all malt, and I think that is a mistake.

One of my plans, which in traditional manner went agley, was to find a pub with Boltmaker on the pumps, but that never materialised for various reasons, I did however bump into Golden Best at the Sanctuary House Hotel, a Fullers venue just a couple of doors down from my hotel. It was the second day of my trip to London, and the first of the conference I was attending. I had spent the evening having dinner near Piccadilly Circus, with the incredible folks my company is working with on a major project, and had ambled my way back through St James' Park, with last orders nearing. Having ascertained that I had enough time, the last pint of the night was ordered.

Golden Best, despite the name giving hints in other directions, is a pale mild and a brand new to me beer. Despite having never had it before, it served as an inspiration for the pale mild, that I call Summer Mild, currently on tap on my downstairs kegerator - yes, there is also an upstairs kegerator. Anyway, to Golden Best, what a freaking delicious beer it was, in stunning condition, had I had time I would have had a second. I found it particularly interesting that a beer that, according to the their website, uses the same ingredients as Landlord is so completely different in flavour from its more illustrious counterpart. Say it quietly, but if both were available at a bar, I might actually be more tempted to Golden Best than to Landlord, which may just be heresy, who knows?

So while I completely failed to locate Boltmaker, and as such my clone recipe plan that I mentioned in a previous post has been postponed (unless of course Timothy Taylor are reading this and want to send me a care package, erm..."commercial samples"), one thing become abundantly clear, should I see a Timothy Taylor pump clip, whenever, and wherever, I am in the UK, I will be indulging.

The Westminster Arms

I have something of a soft spot for Kent's Shepherd Neame. It was their Bishop's Finger that got me into better beer than the keg swill I would drink as a younger man after all, as well as a friend in Prague having been a barman in an SH pub. Whenever I get back to the UK, which is nowhere near as often as I would like, I will pick up a few bottles of Shepherd Neame beers, usually the aforementioned Bishop's Finger, but also their Double Stout and even <gasp> the India Pale Ale. However, and for obvious reasons, Shepherd Neame pubs are few and far between in the Highlands of Scotland, and I don't think I have ever seen a Shepherd Neame beer on a beer engine at any of the pubs I frequent when I go home. Having a few days then in London was the opportunity to find the nearest Shepherd Neame pub to my hotel and dive into their range a bit more.

Given that my hotel was just yards from Westminster Abbey, said nearest Shepherd Neame pub was The Westminster Arms. On arriving at my hotel, being given the key, and heading up to my room, I opened the door to discover that it was still in the throes of being cleaned. As such, I ditched my main case, slung the bag I use as a laptop bag over my shoulder and wandered off to locate the pub and catch up with work over a couple of pints.

Thankfully it was a mere 3 minute walk, and what a delightfully charming pub The Westminster Arms is (photo credit: the image is from the Westminster Arms website). Apparently the pub has recently undergone a refurbishment, and as I went through the door, I was presented with an archetypal British pub, as Tweedy Pubs would say, "a pubby pub". Everything was wooden, there were nooks and crannies with stools and ledges for drinking at, and on the bar a clutch of handpumps. I knew immediately what I was going to have, partly because there wasn't Bishop's Finger on the pumps, but also because I wanted to start with something a little more sessionable.

I took my pint, went downstairs to the basement bar, and found myself a perch at a table, set my laptop up, and took my first ever mouthful of Master Brew.

Master Brew is Shepherd Neame's ordinary bitter, with an ABV of 3.7%, and clearly it is in the tradition that naysayers often deride as "boring brown bitter". It is, though, anything but boring, at least in my opinion. It was moreish, deeply, deeply moreish in fact. I think that first pint was gone before I had even been able to hook into the wifi and log into my email. I had to head back upstairs to the main bar to get a second pint as Master Brew wasn't on the downstairs hand pumps. One of the many things that I loved about this, and to be fair most other bitters I had in and around London, was they were properly bitter, with dollops of hop bitterness to scrape away the crystal malt character - weirdly I was starting to become sure I needed to do some experimentation with my house bitter. What was going on? Had it been on the pumps downstairs I might never have ventured from it.

It was during my second pint that a group of Americans made their way down to the basement, and proceeded to make me almost despair that real ale will ever be anything other than a niche in the US, so embedded is the collective ignorance of cask ale in the popular consciousness. Yeah, sorry folks, we writers can blather on as much as we want about places doing real ale, but it's not getting outside of our bubble. One of the group approached the bar and ordered a Spitfire, but a lady sat in the booth they had plonked in yelled across the bar to "make sure you get the Spitfire lager, not the cask, the cask is warm". Now, I prefer Master Brew and Bishop's Finger to Spitfire, but this notion that unless your beer is as cold as penguin feet it is "warm" really needs to be put to bed. I may have started ranting via text message to my long time collaborator, Mark. I had at this point moved on to Whitstable Bay Pale Ale for a palate reset, when across the bar I heard the most ridiculous thing I have heard in many years, and here I quote:

"don't tell the pastor we are in a pub drinking beer".

Admittedly I have some sympathy with this, given that when I was studying theology with a view to a religious calling, I would often go to the pub to unwind and the thought of being spotted gnawed away at my guilt riddled soul. But, you know, I don't recall ever announcing to the entire bar that I really shouldn't have been there, and to not share this information with the leadership of my church. It reminded me of folks I know who when in Prague moved their beer to the other side of the table for pictures, so their religious friends wouldn't think they were drinking when it hit social media. Thankfully, though painfully slowly as the group worked its way through their one pint of Spitfire lager for about 45 minutes, they eventually toddled off steeped in English sin, so I had another Master Brew, beautifully cask conditioned, at perfect cellar temperature, and everything a English bitter is at its best, or most ordinary, if you get my reference.

Having caught up with work, had a fantastic rambling chat with the lads behind the bar - top fellows! - it was time to find some food, maybe another couple of beers, which we'll get to, and get myself prepared for the conference I was in town for. Clearly though, if I ever find myself staying in Westminster again, the Westminster Arms will be top of my list for pubs to get back to, it was just a perfect afternoon of great beer in a proper pub.

Good News!

A quick break in the scheduled postings - trust me, I carried on my bitter and pub adventures in the UK after flying to and from Inverness - but this is good news that needs sharing.

On Wednesday an email was sent out that I have actually been expecting for a few weeks now, but I didn't want to let the cat out of the bag. Simply put, Murphy & Rude are not going out of business.

But first, a tale of how I learnt that news. When it became public that Jeff and co were going to be closing down, I said to Mrs V that I needed to make a big order of malt to see me through the rest of my brewing year. To that end I bought a 50lb/22.7kg of Virginia Pils, and one of English Pale - they are, after all the base of pretty much all of my beers. Also as part of that order I got 25lb/11.4kg bags of Vienna and Biscuit malts; 10lb/4.5kg bags of white wheat and brown malts; and 5lb/2.3kg bags of Munich 9, Munich 15, and Americano (basically pale chocolate) malts; oh and a packet of Greenmont Mother hops for good measure. A total then of 185lbs/84.1kg of malt.

When I swung by their old location to collect my order, Jeff was there and the very first thing he said to me was "Murphy and Rude will abide my man, Murphy and Rude will abide". He then proceeded to tell me the story behind the demise and resurrection of Murphy & Rude. The demise was basically a perfect storm of increased rents, heat affected green barley, and climate change impacted agricultural loss, resulting in a lack of product to tide the company over a planned move to a new location about 35 miles from Charlottesville.

The resurrection, which is the important part of this story, is the result of an agreement with Carolina Malt House, based in Cleveland, North Carolina, just north of Charlotte. As a result of their partnership, production of Murphy & Rude malt is moving to North Carolina, but importantly (at least in my opinion) Carolina Malt House will continue to purchase barley from M&R's Virginia farmers specifically for Murphy & Rude products, which will be malted to M&R's product specifications. So, Virginia Pils will still be Virginia Pils, made with Virginia grown Violetta barley.

While production is moving to North Carolina, Jeff will still be leading the sales, product development, and order fulfillment for the Murphy & Rude brands throughout Virginia. For homebrewers, like myself, Jeff is working on a solution to keeping the Grain Store going, which is fantastic as I really want to continue using Murphy & Rude malt in my beer.

In a time when we are seeing brewery, and allied industries, closings regularly, it is great that a solution has been found that keeps alive Virginia malt, made from Virginia grain, turned into Virginia beer. Here's to years more of brewing with Murphy & Rude malt!

Windsor the Second

Having left behind the warm embrace of the Windsor & Eton Brewery, picking up a copy of the local branch of CAMRA's latest magazine on the way out, I walked back to Arthur Road, past the appropriately named, though not yet open, Duke of Connaught.

I had a short list in my mind of places to visit, an amalgam of places visited by Tweedy Pubs in this video, and a few suggestions from folks on Reddit. First up on that list was the Carpenter's Arms, just down a narrow lane from Windsor Castle itself. Now, I have to admit, being an abysmal beer tourist - nothing new there if you know me - I didn't take that many pictures of the outside of pubs, but for the Carpenter's I did take a picture of the building opposite as it was just so funky.

I had snagged a seat opposite the bar in a bay window that was just delightful, and just as thrilling was seeing the pump clip of heaven on the bar.

Ok, sure, it's not a local beer in the furthest western reaches of Berkshire, but when you see Landlord on a beer engine, you drink it. It really is that simple, and it was as simply wonderful as you would expect. At this point in the proceedings news started filtering through about the sacking of Arne Slot from his role as Liverpool manager (head coach, whatever). Also distinctly not local, but something I haven't seen on tap for many a year was Budvar, so naturally I had a pint, and I almost wish I hadn't bothered. It wasn't bad per se,  it just looked deeply sad with the merest schmeer of foam on top of the liquid. My final pint here was the Nicholson's Pale Ale, the Carpenter's Arms being a Nicholsons pub after all, and it turned out to be surprisingly nice, I wish I had taken a picture really. Apparently the beer has Galaxy hops as well as the traditional Fuggles and Goldings combination, and it works really well. As with Windsor & Eton, I'd have happily stayed until the bus came, but other places needed visiting, and next up was The Corner House, so off I toddled.

Again as I stepped in, I was the only person in the place, and thankfully I didn't have to struggle to make a decision as to what beer was next. The bright blue pump clip made that decision for me.

Harvey's Sussex Best is a beer that I had never seen in the wild before. I have never seen it in the US, and so it was high on my list of beers to hunt out. It really is a pretty looking beer.

Unfortunately that first pint was distinctly vinegary, and the barmaid told me that she hadn't got round to pulling the lines through yet, and so a fresh pint was duly poured and that vinegar thing was no longer there. Setting to one side for a moment the idea that the barmaid served me beer that had been sitting in the line overnight, once I had a fresher pint I could kind of see what the fuss is about. This is such a quintessentially Southern English bitter, with notes of toffee, dark fruits, and a subtle sweetness in the background, all balanced expertly by the hops. However, I felt a pang of almost guilt at not really enjoying it as readily as I had various other beers that day, though that may have been a touch of palate fatigue at this point. 

I had a second anyway, before heading off to the final stop of the day, all the while aware that I had to get through security at Heathrow in order to fly to Inverness. The last place on the visit list, and the only place from which I have literally no pictures, was The Two Brewers, back up the road towards the Castle from the Corner House. My main reason for choosing the Two Brewers was that they actually have a beer list on their website, shocking as that may seem. As I mentioned in a previous post, pubs in England seem adverse to listing what beers they have on. Wine? Sure. Cocktails? We have a page for that. Beer? Good god man are you trying to encourage ruffians to drink here or something? They also had Fuller's London Pride at a very reasonable price, and so I had a few pints of that, sat at one of their various bars, keeping an eye upon the clock...

Make it back to Heathrow I did, through security and baggage drop off with no drama, only to discover nowhere was showing the Champions League final, and then eventually on to Inverness I went...

Of Guards and Fathers

It was 7.30am when my plane landed at Heathrow, the beginning of my 9 days back in the United Kingdom. Given the fact there was only an hour or so between that flight and the earliest flight to Inverness, I decided not to do a connection on the one ticket, and instead just get a separate ticket for the evening flight to Inverness. Thus I had the best part of half a day between flights, and as I mentioned in my last post, I decided to go to eschew the Tube into London proper, and get the bus to Windsor.

I had been to Windsor all of once previously, but I may have been about 12 years shy of being able to drink legally, and as such I don't remember much about that visit. There is though a family legend/inside joke that at some point whilst wandering near the castle, I asked my parents why it wasn't finished yet given the scaffolding that surrounded many of the buildings. I was then somewhat keen to walk by the castle to check up on progress in the intervening 40 odd years - there was still scaffolding to be seen, still not finished then I guess. It was getting pretty bloody warm by this point of the day, even though it was only 9.30 by now, so I took myself off along the river to get to my first planned stop of my tour of the town's hostelries.

It felt great to really stretch my legs after planes and buses, and also getting caught behind bimbling tourists (yes, I know) on the streets of Windsor in the early, comparatively, morning. Eventually I had to abandon the delights of a Thames stroll to amble my merry way through the Alexandra Gardens, through some railway arches and on to the taproom location of the Windsor & Eton Brewery.

Given that it was just a couple of minutes past opening time, I was the only person in the place, already with half a mind as to what my first beer of the trip was going to be, indeed my first beer in the UK since pre-COVID days, it had been that long. Alas the original plan went out the window as there was a problem with the Guardsman best bitter from the beer engine, so I went for Father Thames, a strong bitter - I am reticent to use the term "ESB" for strong bitters in the UK out of respect for the Fullers branding.

I had it in mind that as much as possible I would be drinking real ale while back in Blighty, and Father Thames set a pretty high bar, though I wasn't taking notes. According to the Windsor & Eton website this is actually a "winter bitter" brewed with local malt and Admiral hops. According to me, it was freaking delish, goodness me I love the marmalade thing that you get from Admiral, it is just a bit punchier than East Kent Goldings in this regard. The scrape of bitterness in the finish was enough to leaving me wanting more, and that first pint may have vanished in about four mouthfuls. Four mouthfuls of glorious real ale, all of those classic toffee sweet malt flavours, conditioned perfectly and at cellar temperature, the proper temperature if you are at all confused. If my fellow Brits cannot recognise that real ale is indeed intangible cultural heritage then they are lost beyond measure. So I had another while the magnificent bar staff sorted out Guardsman.

Once ready to be on parade, a pint was duly ordered, and being an army brat, I kind of geeked out on the pump clip, most likely for details a lot of folks would miss. For example, the central guard is a member of the Scots Guards, how can I tell? The tunic has buttons in sets of three, and the bearskin doesn't have a plume. Likewise the buttons and plumes are correct for the regiments being depicted, it's little things like this that I notice, yes I am weird. Fun fact, my great uncle was a guardsman during World War 2, Coldstream if I recall correctly (correction: it was the Grenadier Guards), back when regiments in the British Army had their own mechanical and electrical engineers. In the aftermath of the war, the plan to create the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, aka REME, was concluded, and my great uncle was transferred over to the new regiment. Anyway, the beer looked like this...

Another classic southern English bitter, this time of the best variety, and perhaps more "classic" than Father Thames, as it is hopped with Fuggles, Styrian Goldings, as well as Pilgrim. I love that this is a properly bitter, bitter beer, clocking in with 40 IBUs, about the same as my own house best bitter, and funnily enough the same ABV of 4.2%. There is something about the aroma of Fuggles, and Styrian Goldings does it too for obvious reasons though it is less noticeable, that always reminds me of pipe tobacco. That note was present, floating around with the usual earthy suspects that Fuggles brings to the table. Something about the word "earthy" makes me think of hearty peasants bringing in the hay, and maybe there is a whiff of grass and summer in the mix too. Maybe I was getting carried away, but I seriously started entertaining the idea of re-formulating my house bitter to have a darker variant in the roster...what heresy was Windsor making me entertain?

I spent a good few hours in the Windsor & Eton taproom before heading out into the wilds of Windsor to hunt down a few more of the pubs that I had put on my list to visit before I had to get the bus back to Heathrow and a plane to the Highlands. In those few hours I tried halves of some of their other beers, including Knight of the Garter, a 3.8% golden ale that was very much like a session American Pale Ale, bursting with the pine and citrus character of Amarillo, and Eton Boatman, a slightly stronger golden ale, that has more of a Southern Hemisphere hop character. Eventually though, head out I had to, there were other pubs to see, other breweries beers to try, and that will have to wait until another post.

A Little Help Goes A Long Way

As I mentioned in a previous post, I am heading to the UK in a few weeks, mainly for work, but with a little personal time chucked in as well. While I own the fact that I am a terrible beer tourist, I really don't plan my trips around breweries or beer cultures I want to visit - rather I go places and just see what is around. A key part of my planning process then, and maybe I a sad bandit for this, is to use Google Maps to find places in the locations that I will be, and then check out their websites to see if it is likely to be the kind of place I want to visit.

It is almost exactly 15 years that I wrote a post called "Do Pubs Help Themselves?" in which I lamented the standard of many a boozer website. My biggest beef was that many pub websites go to great lengths to tell you about their wine list, their cocktail list, their food options, but almost nothing about what beers are actually on draft, which is just as true for a tied house as it would be for a free house. So you would like to think that in our increasingly online world, pubs would have upped their game then, right?

Errr.....wrong. Sadly.

Maybe it is a product of the parts of the UK that I will be visiting, the north of Scotland, and London, with a minor detour to Windsor when I first arrive. Let's start with the positives though, the Windsor & Eton Brewery website is really useful, and as a result of reading that, and watching the Tweedy Pubs video on Windsor and Eton, I made the decision to spend my several hours between flights in and out of Heathrow by going west instead of east. I really like that they have their draft list in the taproom readily available, and so they will definitely be on the list of places to hit. Admittedly I'll probably go to their tied house, The George, as well, but they don't keep an up to date list of beers on their own website.

Also on the good side is the site for The Two Brewers, again for actually having a beer list on their website, but extra kudos for having the price of a pint on the list as well. I imagine I will be popping in for a pint of London Pride at some point in my day then.

My biggest challenge though, and I am sure there are reasons for this, but with so many tied houses in the English part of my trip, it does get really frustrating when there is a shared platform with generic information, and almost universally no list of what is on cask in a given pub - this goes for chains like Wetherspoons as well. Yes, the many Fullers pubs in the city have elegant, beautifully designed websites, but again I can't find out which beers of the Fullers Brewery range are available, making it pot luck to stumble across less regularly seen beers (at least from what I have been told) such as London Porter. I don't want to single out Fullers, as I have seen the same with Shepherd Neame, Greene King, and Nicholsons, though several Young's pubs tend to have at least a list, and occasionally pricing as well.

In the spirit of sharing around the opprobrium, places in Inverness and further north don't fare much better when it comes to an absence of useful information for the drinkers among us.

So, in the fifteen years since I first broached this issue, we seem to have gone from generally crap to being something of a curate's egg, which is progress I guess. Surely I am not alone in wanting to get a sense of what is on tap before I visit a boozer, whether this side or that side of the Pond?

Some Closing Thoughts

On Friday afternoon, with work concerns disappearing into the rear view mirror, and a little time to go until I had to pick up the twins from school, I was having a very fine pint of lager (but which one?? It was Vested Interest, a Franconian-style kellerbier) at the bar in the Selvedge Brewing taproom. As I reveled in the magnificence of that beer, which is a stunner in an already superb lineup, I heard news that instantly yucked my yum.

Virginia's only craft malting company, my good friends Murphy & Rude, are closing their doors at the end of May.

To be honest, I don't know the ins and outs of why Jeff has decided to shut up shop, so I am not going to speculate on that. From what Murphy & Rude have told customers though, they were looking to scale and it became clear that the challenges of scaling made it unfeasible. What I do want talk about though is the ramifications of their coming demise.

From a very personal, and entirely self-centred, perspective, I am bummed that I am going to have to re-formulate all my homebrew recipes. For several years now, I have committed myself to brewing as much as possible with only their malt. My reasons are pretty simple, they are local, they malted, for the most part, Virginia grown grain, oh and their malt made my beer a lot better. While my best bitter was perfectly good with Maris Otter or Golden Promise, when I switched to using Murphy & Rude English Pale malt, the ante was upped quite significantly. Fresh malt makes a massive difference in terms of flavour. I also have recipes that I have designed specifically for Jeff's malt, my Haus Lagerbier is built on his Virginia Pils malt, which uses the Violetta strain of barley, as has the most recent versions of LimeLight, my lime witbier. As such, I will have to drop some dollars on stocking up on my preferred malts, and some containers to keep rodenty bastards at bay, so I can carry on brewing my favourite recipes for as long as possible.

Taking a broader perspective, there are several local breweries who are now in a similar position, though obviously with far more at stake as they make their living from Murphy & Rude malt. If I remember rightly there were about 12 breweries in Virginia that only used Jeff's malt, but something like 50 outfits using it at some level, including in some wonderful award winning beers. All of these will have to be re-factored for different grains, and in some cases find new suppliers, set-up accounts, contracts, etc, etc.

Taking it slight broader yet, there are farmers with grain in the ground right now who will have to find a new customer for their harvests. Most of those farmers, as I mentioned earlier are in Virginia, with some in Maryland and Pennsylvania, according to the M&R website. Hopefully the malting companies in those states will be able to pick up those harvests.

I don't think it is overstating the case to say that the loss of Murphy & Rude is a tragedy for the craft brewing and allied industries in Virginia. As Josh Chapman commented in my article about Murphy & Rude in Pellicle:

"When you close the distance between supplier and producer, things can only get better".

With that distance inevitably widening again, we are all the poorer for it.

Note: all the pictures here are beers I made exclusively with Murphy & Rude malt.

Making Bolt

I am going to the UK in about five weeks time, mostly for work, but also taking the opportunity of being over there to go an visit my parents in the north of Scotland - basically get to Inverness and keep going north, yeah, that north. 

The primary purpose for the trip is a work conference in London though. I haven't been to London in absolutely ages, I think the last time I was there was on one of my trips home to Scotland from Prague, when I would take the bus from Czechia to London and from thence up to Glasgow, and on to the Isle of Skye for the ferry to Uist. I honestly have no idea when I last spent a few days in London, it might be way back in the dim and distant past when we would go and visit my nan when my little brother and I were proper nippers - I have a core memory of watching "It's A Knockout" safely tucked up in her sofa bed.

In amongst all my looking at pubs in and around Westminster, I'll be staying just round the corner from the Abbey, I have been keeping an eye out for places that stock Timothy Taylor Boltmaker. Now, I realise that it is available in bottles, and I intend to get a couple to bring back to Virginia with me, but you really can't beat traditional British beers as Odin intended, from a beer engine, preferably with a sparkler attached...

But why Boltmaker specifically? Well, it all began when I watched a video from a YouTube channel called The Barnyard Brewhouse where he brewed a recipe inspired by Boltmaker. Every time I have got back to the UK in the last 20ish years, getting some Timothy Taylor Landlord has been high on my list of priorities, but I have overlooked their other beers, to my shame I am sure. Also, though, I have brewed a few times with Wyeast 1469 West Yorkshire yeast, which is reputed to be the Timothy Taylor strain, but I've never really been happy with any of the beers I have either brewed or drunk over here using that strain.

Imagine then my interest being piqued when The Craft Beer Channel, as part of their series on cask ale, went to Timothy Taylor and the head brewer, whilst showing them around said something to the effect that their yeast has evolved to need invert sugar to really get going. Hmmmm, I may have rewound that part of the video to make sure I had heard correctly. Indeed I had, they add about 5-7% of sugar to the wort, with this nugget in mind, and the very helpful ingredient list on the Timothy Taylor website, I set to coming up with a localised version of Boltmaker, using as I always do now, Murphy & Rude malt, and this is what I will be brewing in a couple of weeks:

• 69% English Pale
• 7% Biscuit
• 7% Crystal 40
• 7% Munich 9
• 5% Brown
• 5% Invert Sugar 1
• 17.5 IBUs of Fuggles at 60 minutes
• 9.5 IBUs of East Kent Goldings at 15 minutes
• 4.5 IBUs of Styrian Goldings at 5 minutes

For the invert sugar, I will use the very handy directions from Ron's book "A Homebrewer's Guide to Vintage Beer".

If everything goes to plan, when I get back from the UK, I will have a 3.9% abv Yorkshire style bitter on my kegerator, and hopefully a mini-keg cask or two in the cellar, with which to do a taste comparison with the bottles, and my memories of cask Boltmaker in London, which should still be fresh.

Aged Porter and Mild

In 2017 I designed and brewed a beer with Three Notch'd Brewing in Charlottesville, Blackwall London Porter. The recipe for Blackwall was based on copious amounts of research into porter brewing in the middle of the 19th century, and named for the docks in London which were so central to the history of the British Empire.

 

Featuring about 30% brown malt, the beer was only brewed a couple of times, but at the last brewing in 2018, I made sure to get myself a growler's worth for a little project. Beer hacking, to use Evan Rail's term. As well as my growler of Blackwall, I bought a bottle of Orval, which I promptly drank and pitched the dregs, containing all that brettanomyces goodness, into the growler, and soon enough the gasket on the swing top was thoroughly deformed as the additional CO2 created by our friend brett was expelled.

Yesterday, after nearly 8 years of the growler sitting on the shelf in my beer room, I took the opportunity of the head brewer from Selvedge helping me transport my new-to-me kegerator, to finally broach the growler.

I had two major concerns when I unclipped the lid...a geysir of foam, or being as lifeless as the grave. Thankfully neither happened and as you can see from the picture, there was carbonation in the beer, but not to excess, though the glass I poured for Josh did overflow, but that was more user error on my part than the beer itself.

So how did it turn out? Well, while it is true that I didn't take any notes, Josh and I had a pretty wide ranging conversation around what we were experiencing. In terms of the aroma, that classic barnyard character was present, not overwhelmingly so, however. Maybe it is because I grew up in a very rural area, but I have always found that character to be somewhat comforting. I was most relieved though there was no real vinegar aroma, and it was still identifiably a porter I was shuffling my nose about.

Tastewise I was getting some interesting nuttiness, I imagine from the brown malt - fun fact, when we first brewed the beer, the brewers at Three Notch'd were a little reticent about using 30% brown malt in the grist. I am glad I stuck to my guns on that one. Also in there was that thing which is often described as "vinous", which in this case reminded me of sour cherries, but lingering in the background was an umami character that I absolutely love in dark beers, just a merest wisp of soy sauce, but good quality soy sauce rather than industrially produced.

Clearly the presence of the brettanomyces had dried the beer out a little more than it had already been, but it wasn't like sucking lemons, just there was a tartness that I enjoyed. Nearly 8 years sitting around had meant that the hops were barely perceptible as anything more than bitterness in the finish. Overall I was really happy with how it turned out, and I enjoyed a couple of glasses, even persuading Mrs V to try a little as well.

I can't remember the exact quote, but I do recall seeing that well aged porters were described as being "racy and mellow", an epithet that now makes sense to me after this experiment. It's just kind of a shame that to repeat will mean brewing Blackwall at home again sometime...oh darn.

From one extreme, we went to the other, by broaching my final mini-keg "cask" of dark mild that I brewed earlier this year, and boy was that just flat out awesome. I think I need to get myself another couple of mini-kegs so that my mild brews can all be cask rather than in the keg. This one, Crystal Conjunction, was fine on keg, but with natural carbonation it absolutely shone. It's good to know that you can make very solid beer at home...

Homebrew Blitzed

I used to enter homebrew competitions far more regularly, then kids happened and brewing took a bit of a back seat for a few years. Eventually though, things eased up and brewing become a more regular part of life, getting a proper kegerator definitely helped, as did getting a chest freezer for cold fermentation and then lagering. For the last couple of years I have brewed, on average, once every three weeks - well, the kegerator won't feed itself after all, and getting beer on tap in my own kitchen is freaking awesome.

Admittedly I dipped a toe back into competition world last summer when I submitted a couple of brews to the Dominion Cup, but not knowing that feedback is now online rather than sent in the mail, I have no idea how they fared, other than not getting any gongs. To be honest, I didn't actually know that until Sunday morning when a friend told me that feedback was through the app for Virginia Beer Blitz, which was on Saturday.

I entered three beers in this year's competition, my tmavé, house best bitter, and a dark mild that I brewed back in January to use up some odds and ends of malt I had acquired. I didn't have any expectations of medals, my system is deliberately as basic as humanly possible, and given the advances in homebrew kit and processes in the years since I last regularly entered competitions it is almost like going head to head with near professional brewers. Seriously, some of the gear that you see folks brewing with on Instagram or on YouTube is insane, so really my goal in entering is simply to get decent feedback and for my beers to score at least 30 points from the available 50, which is defined as being "very good, generally within style parameters, some minor flaws".

So how did it go...let's start with the lowest scoring beer, which was my tmavé.

For reference, I wrote about the brewing of this beer, which I call Černý Lev, at the end of last year, even though I didn't brew it until January. I am kind of sad that the keg is almost finished as it has been a thoroughly decent drop, garnering a 30/50 at Virginia Beer Blitz, with both judges noting some oxidation. I am pretty sure that the oxidation character came about because I thought I needed to transfer from its original lagering keg into a new one as I thought there was a CO2 leak in the keg -  it turned out that the gas connector itself was the problem. Ah well, still, not a bad result.

Next up with a score of 31 out of 50 was my house best bitter, which doesn't really have a name, but is based on the beer I designed for Three Notch'd that was known as Session/Bitter 42, originally the former, then the latter.

I will be bluntly honest, I was expecting this one to get panned, simply because I do not use crystal malt in my bitters at all, as in never, ever. I just don't like the caramel sweetness that comes along with crystal malts, and so the only specialty malt in this is Biscuit malt. Unfortunately in the US there is not just a paucity of bitters, whether ordinary, best, or extra special, but of the ones that make it here they are invariably of the brown, caramelly type, and so folks can get confused by something without those flavour notes. I have also pretty much switched to using Endeavour hops, which are a modern English variety, but again expectation of "English" hops here means East Kent Goldings. One judge noted that the beers would benefit from "boosting the caramel", but without caramel malt in the grist, I am not sure what I would be boosting. Both judges did note a slight astringency, which I also picked up when I first tapped it, so I am going to start looking more closely at my well water profile and its mineral content, as well as maybe dropping the mash temperature a touch.

On then to the beer that scored the best, with 32 out of 50 it was a one off dark mild that would be impossible to recreate given the very odd weights of specialty malts, but which, I think, looked gorgeous poured from the kegerator...

There is a large amount of irony, given what I just said about crystal malt, in the fact that this used 5 types of crystal malt, 15, 40, 60, 120, and 260, as well as dose of chocolate wheat. Hence I named this Crystal Conjunction. It's kind if hilarious then that one judge commented that the "absence of balancing caramels and light roast/chocolate impact the overall character". Literally all the specialty malts were crystal or chocolate malts. Obviously mild is not something that is wildly common, heck it might as well as be an endangered species over here, but I have come across a concept many times in the US that a mild is basically an uber session stout - which is simply not true, the range of possibility within mild makes it a beer you can take in so many directions, as borne out by the BJCP guidelines themselves.

As I said, I didn't get any awards for my beer, but it's fun to get the feedback and think about how I could improve my processes, even though I am pretty much guaranteed not to go splurging money on the latest gizmo. My primary reason for making beer is to have something on tap in my kitchen that I enjoy, and that my friends enjoy when they come round, that I have pointers to improve that experience is a good thing then.

Get Your Goat

Goodness me, it has been a while.

This last weekend, Mrs V was up in Washington DC for the annual American Montessori Society conference, she being a Montessori teacher and all that. Thus it was that it was just me and the twins from Thursday night through until Sunday afternoon when she got home.

What to do though with a pair of 8 year old boys with sufficient energy to power a small city, especially on Saturday, as they had school on Friday. Thankfully I got a text during the week from a Welsh friend asking if we fancied taking our combined brood of children for a hike or some kind of adventure, followed by chilling out at a brewery given that the weather was supposed to be glorious. Spoiler alert, it was.

We settled on visiting Luray Caverns, a karst system in the Shenandoah Valley, not too far from Harrisonburg, which is one of the most beautiful cave systems we have ever visited. This was the second time the twins and I had been, but the first for our friends.

Having wandered through the caves, taken in the car and caravan museum, which, thrillingly for this nerd, includes a Morgan three wheeler from the 1920s (I think), and then the Shenandoah Valley Heritage museum, with old houses and interesting displays on the German immigrant communities in the valley, it was time to hit a brewery for some lunch. Said brewery was an hour's drive, through some lovely countryside, having eschewed the hell of I-81, to get to Weyer's Cave and Alpine Goat Brewing.

I had been to Alpine Goat just the once before, when out and about in the Valley promoting my book, "Virginia Cider: A Scrumptious History", and I had a grand time. The owner came and joined us, us being Mark and I, and eventually so too did the relatively recently hired brewer, Jared. They were still working through the previous brewer's batches for the most part, and while decent enough, the star of the show had been one of Jared's own creations. I took a mental note to get back when everything on tap was his, not planning that it would take me more than a year.

To get to Alpine Goat there is a little bouncing along a gravel track, but the views from the brewery and its beer garden over to the Shenandoah National Park are more than worth it. Seriously, if there is a more picturesque brewery in Virginia, I haven't been there yet. Having packed the kids off with a ball, frisbee, and boomerang to snag a table with space for them to play, we went to the bar and naturally I ordered the pilsner, described on the website thus:

"Our German Pilsner showcases the delicate noble hop profile from Tettnanger and Mittelfrüh hops, layered over 100% Bohemian Pilsner malt. Expect a well-balanced bitterness and subtle floral notes, characteristic of the style. With a clean, crisp finish, it's a refreshing choice for any beer enthusiast."

Clearly I didn't take any pictures of the beer, oops. However, the beer lived up to the description, and very nice it was too. Having polished that off while waiting on a food truck lunch, my second pint was the Vienna lager, and again it was a very respectable beer. Thus fed and watered, we spent a very chill couple of hours letting the kids run themselves ragged, they would sleep well that night for sure. Spoiler alert, they did.

Mrs V and I really enjoy heading over the mountains to spend time in the Shenandoah Valley, whether going that way for cider or beer, and in Alpine Goat you can safely say that we have added another location to the list of places to visit. So, if you're ever that neck of the woods, head up the gravel road, park on the grass, and enjoy one of the most charming breweries around right now. Next time I will take better note and maybe even a picture or two...of beer.

Lost Breweries of Egerland

Along the north western edges of modern day Czechia lie the Ore Mountains, known in Czech as Krušné hory, and in German as Erzgebirge. The mountains themselves straddle the border between Czechia and Germany, and as the name makes patently obvious mining was for centuries the primary industry.  It is actually from the town of Jáchymov that we get the word "dollar" as a name for many currencies, though obviously from it's German name Joachimsthal - the silver that was mined here was minted into the standard coin for trade throughout Europe, the Joachimsthaler, which was shortened to just "taler", and eventually became "dollar". For centuries the mountains and their hinterland to the east formed a region known as Egerland, known in Czech as Chebsko.

As early as the 11th century, German speakers were invited to Bohemia to work the mines that generated some of the most industrialised areas of the Austro-Hungarian empire, with glass works, lace making, and textiles also prevalent. Where you have industry you have workers in need of a pint, and so you have breweries to meet that need. All of which brings me to the year 1913, when one "F. Zodel", the business manager of the Eger Chamber of Commerce wrote an article for Der Böhmische Bierbrauer, giving an update on the state of brewing the Eger region. Eger is today called Cheb, and lies almost as far west as you can go in modern Czechia.

In the article, Mr (I assume) Zodel lists the brewing totals for the extant breweries in the region for the 1911/1912 season, though the German word is "kampagne", which sounds so much more workmanlike. The list consists of 37 breweries, all of whom produced over 10,000 hectolitres/8400 barrels of beer that season:

These 37 breweries produced nearly 1.3 million hectolitres/1.1 barrels. Being something of a nerd, I know, shocking, right? I decided to plot the towns these breweries were in, yay for Google Maps!

As you can see, a decent sized local brewery could be found throughout the Ore Mountains in 1913. The red pins are towns where the brewery had closed down the year before the season being reported upon, and the eagle eyed amongst you will probably spot the couple of green pins, those are breweries mentioned in the list that are still operating, Žatecký Pivovar, and Pivovar Chodovar. Unfortunately, Zodel's report doesn't list the 53 other breweries in the area that produced an additional 200,000 hectolitres/167,000 barrels, or the 8 breweries with a production of less than 1000 hectolitres/840 barrels. Imagine that map, with nearly 100 breweries on it. 100 breweries in an area of just short of 1000km2/390 square miles, and between them a production total in the 1911/12 season of 1.5 million hectolitres/1.3 million barrels.

While this all sounds impressive, the 1911/1912 season was 2.3% less than the 1910/1911 season, mainly as a result of 6 breweries closing down, caused apparently by a cold and rainy summer and the impacts on the barley harvest, as well as increased prices for hops. Zodel notes that the breweries in his district were sourcing most of their ingredients from the region itself, making it a truly local beer culture.

However, as Zodel looks to the upcoming brewing season, he strikes a downbeat note, claiming that it "is highly probable that a further significant decline in beer production will occur in the current operating season", citing the ongoing war in the Balkans, a shortage of ready cash, and the rising cost of living, claiming that any "restriction in the lifestyle of the working class and the middle class consequently leads first and foremost to a decrease in beer consumption". Sounds all too familiar really.

While his report doesn't give specifics as to what kinds of beer were being produced in Egerland, Zodel does mention that the cost of a hectolitre of "draft beer (schankbier) or the so-called double beer (Doppelbier)" is about 16 Crowns, though he doesn't mention the price of a half litre of such beer in the pubs.

In modern Czechia, the area we are looking at is mostly part of the Karlovy Vary district, which had as of 2024 a population just under 300,000 people, compared to one of 470,000 in 1910 though it peaked in 1930 at over half a million. The area that today has just a handful of breweries, and as I noted earlier it appears only 2 of the companies mentioned by Mr Zodel in 1913 are still extant, once had a large, local, beer culture. 

Yet, today, in many of the towns and villages of modern Chebsko, I am sure you are more likely to find Gambrinus on tap than you are Chodovar, and I find that deeply sad.

Why No Dry?

Since 2007, I have taken the month of January off the booze. This was before the concept of "Dry January" was even a thing, and I literally chose to take the month off because I felt like shit on New Year's Day and had decided I needed to lose some weight, and so no booze for a while was part of that plan. I actually ended up taking nearly 6 months off the beer, though with the occasional bottle of Frankovka, a Czech red wine, and losing an inordinate amount of weight prior to my first visit to the US that summer.

My month off became an annual tradition, one that I justified as being "the best way to lose the Christmas weight", and so it remained for most of the last 19 years. Most years I did indeed shed the pounds that I had gained by serious indulgence in the festive spirit, and by the end of the month I was eagerly anticipating my first beer of the year. This year I decided to change things.

In 2025 I hit the ripe middle age of 50, even seeing that in black and white looks a bit odd, but here we are. I am 50 years old and as might be reflected in the paucity of posts on Fuggled over the last several years, my drinking is slowing down. I have often said that I am a lousy beer tourist, even in my own area around Charlottesville, Virginia, I am not great at getting to all the breweries and wineries that surround. I have  a few favourite places that do the kind of beers I like, and I see no incentive to go and pay north of $8 a pint for styles I am just not bothered about.

Coming back to turning 50, it was as a result of my annual physical that it became clear that certain lifestyle choices needed to be changed. I need to get healthier in order to get certain numbers more on target than they were in October. To that end, I have already lost about 22lbs/10kg, which brings me back to my justification for taking a month off away from alcohol, it being the best way to lose the festive season weight gain.

I will be blunt and say that I was kind of dreading the holiday period, largely because I find it difficult to say no to many of the treats of the various feasts. I love Christmas cookies, fruit cake, mince pies, and of course I have to have the traditional Terry's Chocolate Orange. The main problem with all this is simple, I am sadly the only one in my household who loves these sweet treats. So every year I would bake a fruit cake, naturally soaking the dried fruit in a strong beer of some description then fed it whisky once a week for all of December, and would end up having to eat it all myself. I would buy a tin of Quality Street and then spend much of Christmas Day and Boxing Day munching through the assorted chocs and toffees, I was a master of gaining the Christmas weight.

That then is the change this year, I was sat pondering the shopping trip to World Market to stock up on the German Christmas treats that transport me back to my childhood in Celle - pfeffernuss, lebkuchen, stollen - when a thought popped into my head. How about just not gaining as much weight over the holidays, and not bothering with Dry January? As I mentioned above, I am down about 22lbs/10kgs since October, but that number was 30lbs/13.6kgs just before Christmas. I knew I would gain some weight as the usual rules went out of the window, but I mitigated that by not making my annual fruit cake, not splurging the cash at World Market to chase my youth, and saying no to a tin of Quality Street.

So no, this year I am not doing Dry January, I am getting back to the setup that has served me well since October, and within a couple of weeks I expect to be back to my pre-Christmas weight, ready to keep on going toward my target. On the flipside of this, I am also not embracing "Tryanuary", I will remain a shitty beer tourist, and my regular haunts will stay as such. 

So, happy 2026 folks!