A day in Bodegraven

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ron?"

"Nice to see you, too, Menno."

What a nice start to the day at De molen. Well, not quite the start. I'd already been hanging around the brewery for a good half hour before Menno spotted me. Why? I'll need to back up a little to explain.

Back in September I got an email from a contact in Phiadelphia: would I like to go along for the brew day of the Philly Beer Week raffle winner. Every year a lucky individual gets a free trip to Belgium to brew a collaborative beer. Except this year it wasn't at a Belgian brewery, but De Molen in Bodegraven. Would I like to hang around in a brewery for a day? Hell yes. I didn't asking twice. Nor know what to expect.

Like all those over from Philly, I was advised to be at De Molen by 8 AM. I almost managed it. I wouldn't have been more than 20 minutes late, if I hadn't missed my connection in the chaos that is Utrecht Centraal, surely one of the least user-friendly stations in the universe. They've helpfully removed the big departure board and almost all of the timetables. Evidently you're supposed to get train information from your phone. Fucking morons. When I did manage to discover which platform my train departed from, I got there just in time to see it leave. The train, I mean, not the platform. That wasn't going anywhere.

I know, use the 30 miuntes until the next Bodegraven train to have a wee. I followed the toilet signs all the way to the opposite end of the station without encountering any bogs. But did find a sign for toilets pointing back in the opposite direction. I was starting to feel good about my decision to get a coffee rather than a beer before boarding my train in Amsterdam Zuid.

Did I mention it was cold? Effing cold. Unnaturally cold. After two mild Dutch winters, I'm totally unused to cold weather. Last cold snap I encountered was in Denver in November 2014. That's why I was wearing an unusually large amount of clothing.

After a couple of minutes hanging around in the brewery yard, I kindly bearded brewer invited me in from the cold. "Are you here for the collaboration brew?" he asked in English. "I sure am."

I was relieved to see that I was one of the first to arrive. Only three of the Philly crew were inside: Clare, one of the organisers, raffle winner Adam and one other. Over a warming cup of coffee, I learned the others were on their way . . . down to reception in their hotels. Mmmm. . . I could have had another hour or two in bed. And missed the rush hour at Utrecht Centraal.

Kevin, our brewer for the day, talked us through the computer display for the brew. Which had a rather complicated mashing scheme, with rests at 52º C, 62º C and mash out at 72º C. Hang on, I've forgotten to tell you what the beer was. Something rather Dutch: a Porter with salty liquorice. We were having a nice chat about temperatures and rest times when Menno came in.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Ron?"

Next: we look around the brewery and some of us do some work. (Not me, thankfully. I was taking a day's holiday.)

Book tour day six - Philadelphia

I'll try to rattle through today quicker than yesterday. Otherwise I'll still be writing this trip up when I embark on my next.

Breakfast isn't included at my hotel so I turn to Google Maps. There's a diner just around the corner.

It's in the indoor market. I somehow managed to miss that last time I was in Philadelphia. 30th Street Station excepted, there's not one place I recall from my last visit. It seems like a different town. I eat my usual egg and bacon combo. And drink an orange juice. Important to keep up the vitamin intake.

First stop in the Dock Street Brewery. Not that we stop, because it isn't open.

Instead, we go to Local 44 which is. Interesting. It looks like it was built as a pub.

I'm reassured by the sight of handpulls. Unfortunately, the Yards IPA is off. I pass on the Bombardier. Not sure I'd even drink that in the UK, unless desparate. I have a perfumy IPA-ype thing. I can't remember what it's called, but then again, I'm not trying to. This is my relaxing time, not my pointlessly obsessing time.

After a couple we head back to Dock Street, which is now open. We chat with a brewer, then the owner. No, I can't recall what I'm drinking. I'm too relaxed.

The evening's event in Yards is a bit chaotic. One of the sudience tries to take over my talk. Which is a bit annoying. I manage to wrest it back when he says something that's bollocks. Oh well. I sell a few books. And sign a few. I hadn't realised how early Yards closes in the evening and am a bit surprised when we get thrown out at 19:00.

I pop in for some Dim Sum on the way back. Full of dumplingy goodness.

Tomorrow I head for Washington.







The Home Brewer's Guide to Vintage Beer
http://www.amazon.com/Home-Brewers-Guide-Vintage-Beer/dp/1592538827



Down Home Diner
51 N 12th St
Philadelphia, PA 19107
Tel: +1 215-627-1955



Dock Street Brewing Co
701 S 50th St,
Philadelphia, PA 19143.
Tel: +1 215-726-2337
http://www.dockstreetbeer.com/



Local 44
4333 Spruce St,
Philadelphia, PA 19104.
Tel: +1 215-222-2337
http://www.local44beerbar.com/



Yards Brewing Company
901 N Delaware Ave,
Philadelphia, PA 19123.
Tel: +1 215-634-2600
http://www.yardsbrewing.com/



Dim Sum Garden
59 N 11th St.,
Philadelphia, PA 19107.
Tel: +1 215-627-0218

Book tour day five - Philadelphia (part two)

Already on part two and I've not even left New York. Let's see if I can get all the way to the end of Tuesday this time.

"Have your tickets and id ready for inspection." They say. I obediently take out my verblijfsvergunning and hold it in the same hand as my ticket. It's a dead handy document, a verblijfsvergunning. I'm pretty sure they think it's a driving licence in the US. Whatever, they accept it as id. It saves having to take my passport everyehere with me. 

The ticket inspector is only interested in inspecting my ticket. Waste of time getting out my id.

There are no free pairs of seats so I sit next to a middle-aged woman. I put my magazine ticket and verblijfsvergunningon my seat while I hunk my monster bag onto the overhead luggage rack. When I look back at my seat, the magazine and ticket are there, but the verblijfsvergunningis nowhere to be seen.

I check my wallet. No, I hadn't put it back. I check the floor under my seat. No. Under the seat in front. Not there, either. Under the seats across the gangway. No. I start panicking. And sweating. Just as well there are no security guards about.

I sit down nervously and do through my wallet again. No, definitely not in there. Where the hell could the thing have disappeared to. I check a wide area of floor, crawling around on my knees. This is bollocks. It's not as bad a s losing my passport, but it will still be a pain in the arse getting a new one.

Twenty minutes into the journey, I'm still full of anxiety, anger and apathy. Where could it have gone. In a final depairing attempt, I stick my hand down the back of my seat. And out pops my verblijfsvergunning. What a fun start to the journey.

I get a taxi to my hotel when I get to Philadelphia. It's not far and only costs me ten bucks.

The strange covered-in bit of road outside my hotel looks familiar. When have I seen it before? I know - when we took the crazy Chinese bus from Washington to New York. This is where it stopped in Philadelphia. I'm in China Town.

Despite this being my free day, I have a couple of appointments. Most important is meeting George Hummel, who has arranged my event at Yards tomorrow. He's going to show me around later. First I'm havong a few beers with one of my blog readers, Ed Draper, and his faincée Michelle.

We meet at Home Sweet Hombrew, George's homebrew shop. I'm a bit late, having got disorientated on leaving my hotel. We head off for the City Tap house. The weather is being weird. Having spent the last couple of days freezing my bollocks off, it's now warm enough to sit outside in the sun. Where we have a few beers.

I've mentioned on the blog that I'll be in the Nodding Head brewpub around 18:00, which I am. Another blog reader, Bill King, is waiting there with some books for me to sign. More beers are drunk.

Last time I was in town, I didn't have chance to visit Monks Cafe. For reasons entirely outside my control: a bus smashed into the front of it the day I arrived. Now I can see if it lives up to its awesome reputation. I break one of my most important rules: I drink a European beer. I've a good excuse. It's Tilquin Geuze, a beer I can't nornally buy. And a cracking beer.

I follow it up with a Pliny the Elder. Which goes very nicely with my mussels. George is very entertaining as he shows me his hometown. He's quite a character and seems to know every publican and barperson in town. Which is quite handy. We arrange to meet around midday the following day. For a few more beers while I'm waiting for the evening's event.

Which is what we'll hear about next time.






The Home Brewer's Guide to Vintage Beer
http://www.amazon.com/Home-Brewers-Guide-Vintage-Beer/dp/1592538827




Home Sweet Homebrew
2008 Sansom St.
Philadelphia PA 19103
Tel: +1 215-569-9469
http://www.homesweethomebrew.com



City Tap House
3925 Walnut St,
Philadelphia, PA 19104.
Tel: +1 215-662-0105
http://www.citytaphouse.com/


Nodding Head
1516 Sansom St,
Philadelphia, PA 19102.
Tel: +1 215-569-9525
http://www.noddinghead.com/‎



Monk's Cafe
264 S 16th St,
Philadelphia, PA 19102.
Tel: +1 215-545-7005
http://www.monkscafe.com/



Jose Pistola's
263 S 15th St,
Philadelphia, PA 19102.
Phone:+1 215-545-4101
http://josepistolas.com/

Book tour day five - Philadelphia

Tuesday begins in leisurely fashion. Gazing vaguely at the TV in my undercrackers.

It's not an attractive sight, but no-one's there to see it. Washed, shaven and bekecked, I head up to the fifth floor for breakfast. It's billed as a continental breakfast. I don't get my hopes up too much.

If I liked cake, I'd be in heaven. Sadly I'm savoury to my core. I've only two topping options: butter or cheese.

At least I assume it's cheese. When I unwrap a slice the contents seem more plasticy than the plastic around them. Though it doesn't seem to make much difference whether I eat that or the wrapper, I plonk the cream-coloured putty on a slice of toast. Can something have negative taste? This reputed cheese seems to. Negative texture, too. It pushes the boundary of bland further than I care to go.

Not the best breakfast I've ever had.

I ask the hotel to call me a cab. I'm still waiting for someone to come back with that old gag "OK, you're a cab." but they never do. As I'd hoped, it's a car service rather than a yellow cab. I ask the driver how much it will cost to get to Penn Station. pretty reasonable is what it is.

The traffic is heavy and I've not quite as much time as I'd hoped at the station. I needed three things: a wee, some food for the train and a stiff drink. Not necessarily in that order. Though I did need the wee first. If an unfortunate trouser-soiling incident were to be avoided.

Luckily Penn Station had public bogs. Free ones. And not even filthy. Score.

I spot a TGI Friday's on the concourse and slip up to the bar.

"Is this seat free" I ask the nice young lady alreadt sitting at the bar.

"Sure."

I order a double Jack Daniels. The young lady is drinking a cocktail. And has a ring in her nose. She's also reading a Kurt Vonnegut novel.

"He's a great writer. I loved his stuff when I was younger." I've only 10 minutes. Why not spend them talking to another human being? No chance of being suspected of trying to chat her up. I've only time for a few sentences and a quickly gulped dose of whiskey.

She's waiting for a train, too, unsurprisingly. Just had an interview at the publisher's Penguin. I tell her I'm in the US to promote my book.

"What's it called?"

"The Home Brewer's Guide to Vintage Beer." I have to repeat it three times before she undertands it.

"It's your accent."

Been a while since I had anyone struggle with my accent. Though it happened fairly regularly when I lived in New York. I think I'm pretty easy to understand.

I'd like to eat on the train. I can't linger. The only reason I have any time left at all is that my train is 30 minutes late. At least that's what it said on the departure board.

I say goodbye to the nice young lady and rush off in search of food. A sandwich is all I need. I blow off my first choice when the queue appears immobile. I get served immediately at the next place. But have to wait to pay. Which prompts some grade-A worrying.

Pointlessly, as it turns out. They still haven't let passengers down onto the platform. I've some waiting to do.

"Have your tickets and id ready for inspection." That instruction was to cause me a good deal of panic in a few moments. But we'll learn about that next time . . .









The Home Brewer's Guide to Vintage Beer
http://www.amazon.com/Home-Brewers-Guide-Vintage-Beer/dp/1592538827




T.G.I. Friday’s
484 8th Ave
New York, NY 10001
Tel: +1 212-630-0307
https://www.tgifridays.com/

Philadelphia Flyer

Ale and Porter Brewing in Philadelphia in 1859

Here's an extract about brewing in Philadelphia, published in 1859. Thanks to Gary Gillman for pointing it out to me.

"ALE AND PORTER.

"Beer," says the author of the " Picture of Philadelphia, in 1811," whom we have before quoted, "was brewed in Philadelphia for several years before the Revolutionary war; and soon after peace, the more substantial Porter was made by the late Mr. Robert Hare. Until within three or four years the consumption of that article has greatly increased, and is now the table-drink of every family in easy circumstances. The quality of it is truly excellent : to say that it is equal to any of London, the usual standard of excellence, would undervalue it, because, as it regards wholesome qualities and palatableness, it is much superior; no other ingredients entering into the composition than malt, hops, and pure water. A fair experiment has shown, that even so far back as 1790, Philadelphia Porter bore the warm climate of Calcutta, and came back uninjured. In 1807, orders were given by the merchants of Calcutta, after tasting some of it taken out as stores, for sixty hogsheads. Within a few years Pale Ale of the first quality was brewed, and justly esteemed—being light, sprightly, and free from that bitterness which distinguishes Porter."

The reputation of Philadelphia Ale has but strengthened with the lapse of years; and at the present time the Malt liquors made in Philadelphia take precedence in every market in the Union. The qualities for which they are distinguished are purity, brilliancy of color, richness of flavor, and non-liability to deterioration in warm countries—qualities, the result in part of the peculiar characteristics of the Schuylkill water—in part of the intelligence, care and experience of our brewers, conjoined to the use of apparatus possessing all the best modern improvements made in England and in this country."
"Philadelphia and its manufactures" By Edwin Troxell Freedley, 1857, pages 192-193.

A few points to note. This is first I've heard of an American brewer exporting beer to India. Especially as it was Porter, the export of which to India has been greatly overshadowed by Pale Ale.

"There are now nine extensive Brewers of Ale and Porter in Philadelphia, viz. : Masset, Collins & Co., Frederick Gaul, Robert Smith, W. .C. Rudman, Robert Newlin, Gray & Staley, Dithmar & Butz, W. B. Taylor, and James Moore. The oldest Brewery in this city is probably that upon the corner of Sixth and Carpenter streets, which was built about one hundred years ago, by William Gray, a native of Philadelphia. The most noteworthy Brewery is probably that belonging to Massey, Collins & Co., situated at the northwest corner of Tenth and Filbert sts.; it was originally erected by the farmers of Chester and Delaware counties, Pa., and purchased from them by the Brewers' Association of Philadelphia ; they subsequently sold the establishment to M. L. Dawson, a member of the Association, and whose ancestors had been prominent Brewers for a period of eighty years. Poultney & Massey, the predecessors of the present firm, in the year 1855, greatly enlarged the buildings, which have recently been increased by the present owners. The buildings, as now erected, form a hollow square of one hundred and fifty feet each way, making an extent of buildings of six hundred feet, seven stories in height, with extensive cellars and vaults underneath the whole, eighteen feet in depth, which are furnished with large vats containing from two hundred to four hundred barrels each, and sufficient for the storage of ten thousand barrels of Ale and Porter. Their Brewing Apparatus has been put up within the past three years, of the latest and most approved description ; comprising large Mash Tubs, capable of brewing nine hundred bushels of malt daily; boiling Coppers heated by means of steampipes; large Coolers, and Refrigerators, and Fermenting Tuns, the capacity of the latter being forty-five thousand gallons. Attached to the Brewery are malt-houses, which are designed for the malting of one hundred thousand bushels of barley. From seventy-five to one hundred men are employed about the establishment. The firm is extensively engaged in the manufacture of Pale and Amber Ales, and Porter, for draught and bottling; Brown Stout, and XX Ale, for all the markets upon the coast, from Maine to Louisiana, also for the numerous markets of the West Indies and South America.

The greatest cleanliness is required in this establishment; every cask returned to the Brewery being unheaded, scalded, and scrubbed with hickory brooms by hand; and lime is used frequently to purify the utensils.

The capital invested in the Brewing of Ale and Porter is $1,500,000, and the annual product exceeds one million of dollars."
"Philadelphia and its manufactures" By Edwin Troxell Freedley, 1857, pages 194-195.

I particularly like that a typical range of beers is given: Pale Ale, Amber Ale, Porter, Brown Stout and XX Ale. Not very different from what a London brewer would have produced at the time. Though there's no indication of the strength of the American versions.

From later adverts, I'd noticed that Pale Ale, Porter, Stout and XXX Ale were standard products of American Ale breweries in the period leading up to prohibition. I've often wondered exactly what XXX Ale was like. I had Ballantine's XXX when I lived in the USA in the mid 1980's. By that time, it was very pale and not particularly distinctive. I'd love to know what it had been like a century earlier.

Here's what Ballantine's (the largest Ale brewery in the USA) beers were like post-prohibition:

Ballantine beers
Year	Beer	Style	package	Acidity	FG	OG	Colour	ABV	atten-uation
1939	India Pale Ale	IPA	bottled	0.07	1018.6	1075.2	16	7.39	75.27%
1939	XXX Ale	Ale	bottled	0.07	1014.9	1056	9	5.34	73.39%
1939	XXX Ale	Ale	canned	0.07	1014.5	1056.2	11	5.42	74.20%
1939	XXX Porter	Porter	bottled	0.08	1018.8	1059.6	1 + 13	5.29	68.46%
1939	Brown Stout	Stout	bottled	0.10	1021.9	1074.6	1 + 8	6.86	70.64%
Source:
Whitbread Gravity Book

The gravities are much like those in Britain pre-WW I.

Philly

After a relaxing 19-hour journey we arrived at our Philadelphia hotel late last evening. I felt so full of energy, I didn't go to the pub. Shit. It's day two and I still haven't been in a pub. What's happening to me? I didn't even have a beer in the airport.

I did find a corner shop, or convenience store as they so quaintly call them here, yesterday.  Which was first encounter with Pennsylvania's weird laws. No singles on sale, only sixpacks. A real pain in the arse for someone like me, who's only in town a couple of days. Decisions, decisions. The choice wasn't great - loads of PAs, IPAs and wheats. Naaah, didn't fancy any of them. So I went for Bell's Porter.

No. I'm not going to tell you about that (a bit too roasty for a Porter - sorry, I've just checked the label and it says "robust Porter" so I guess that makes it OK). Because, revisiting the shop today, I notice they had Victory Storm King. Storm King. What happy memories of coffee spiked with grapefruit juice it conjures up. But it is full of alcoholly goodness. Just what I need after my 36-hour alcohol fast.

I like it more than last time. Though that could be because it messed up my legs on an afternoon New York pub crawl. I really shouldn't have insisted on a full Imperial pint. It proved to me that anyone who thinks you can session beer of any strength has no idea of what a session is. Or is an elephant.

It's still quite chilled. Which seems to be supressing the grapefruit nicely and just leaving the roast. Much more my kind of Stout. I'm feeling quite chilled, too. And not just because I'm sitting next to the airco.

Dolores and the kids are swimmng. This arvo we plan visiting USS Olympia. A pre-dreanought heavy cruiser. And, totally coincidentally, the Triumph homebrew pub is on the way. How's that for planning?

Coming to the USA

You might remember me mentioning a forthcoming trip to the USA. If you can't: I'll be going to the USA soon. There. Now you know.

I'll be in Philadelphia, Washington and New York. I have a couple of dates, if anyone feels like buying me beer or giving me money.

10th August: a booze up somewhere in Philadelphia. Possibly Monks Café. Not really decided that bit yet. I'm open to suggestions.

12th August: Churchkey, Washington DC. I think I'll be saying a few words about De Molen SSS and Porter. That's the plan, at least. Early, like at about opening time.

It's your chance - if you live cliose to Philadelphia or Washington - to find out if I'm as obnoxious and opinionated in person. And remember: bring plenty of money to buy me beer.