I have liked May so much this year that I am already missing it. Forty-eight weeks to May 2027. I’ve already circled it in my calendar. Just in the last few days it finally feels like spring. I’ve got more twenty tomatoes outside into the spot where they’ll be sitting until November. Isn’t that twine tying action photo there to the right interesting? I really outstripped myself with that one. That is one snugly tucked in beefsteak, if you know what I mean. And there’s been more. I’ve mowed and then mowed again. Got a few semi-sunburns and even listened to a Blackcapped Warbler as it stayed just out of view. Not that it’s been Euro-hot but I will take 23C and sunny any time. Err… give me a sec. That knot. Wow. OK, let’s go.
First up, the residue in 4,500 year old clay pots from the Masovian Lowland in northeastern Poland have been analyzed and certain conclusions have been drawn:
These findings represent the earliest chemical traces of fermented alcohol beverages in this region, dating to the second half of the third millennium BCE,” the researchers wrote in the publication. The study also identified biomarkers linked to grain processing, including azelaic acid and plant sterols, suggesting the use of cereals such as wheat or barley, fruits and possibly resins used to preserve or flavour beverages. Researchers said the apparent use of wheat and barley is significant because the oldest known evidence of cereal cultivation in the region dates to the Late Bronze Age. “This suggests the possibility of importing raw materials for alcohol production from other regions where cereal cultivation was already well-developed…”
See also the 2,300 year old beer bottle from China. Do ancient jam jar findings get such rapt attention from archaeologists? Not a chance. And speaking of the sciences, The Beer Nut made a quality observation this week about one of the adjectives that gets tossed around rather freely – “tropical”:
I’ve voiced my concerns before about the t-word being rarely indicative of actual tropical fruit flavours. So it goes with this one, but that’s not a problem. In lieu of mangoes and pineapples, this 5.7% ABV hazy IPA has a bright pithy bitterness, pushing mandarin zest and lime rind. There’s an almost earthy tang on the finish, where the bittering compounds concentrate together on the palate. Despite the haze and the claim of tropicality, this tastes like an IPA from the classic era of Eight Degrees: big flavoured and technically proficient. I’ve missed that.
I don’t have an issue with degrees of abstration in the game adjectival. As a result “hoppy” is perfectly fine as a high level quantiative descriptor. But “tropical” has that next level general category aspect that TBN unpacks neatly up there through a winnowing to find out what is really going on. Mango? There ain’t no stinkin’ mango!
Speaking of getting to the specifics, Boak and Bailey examined a trade publication from 1960 called 200 Years of Brewing in the West Country, a 40-page booklet produced by West Country Breweries on the subject to West Country Breweries and found a firm in transition – whether they knew it or not:
From the first page, though, it’s clear that something unusual was going on. The obligatory foreword from the chairman is signed by… Colonel W.H. Whitbread. He was also chairman of Whitbread itself and his presence here signals that West Country Breweries was under the larger brewery’s protection as part of the so-called ‘Whitbread Umbrella’. The Whitbread Umbrella was “a novel structural arrangement that incorporated a dual-voting shareholding structure aligned to a controlling interest in the publicly listed Whitbread Investment Company (WIC), an investment trust that housed minority shareholdings in some twenty regional brewers” (Julie Bower, 2016.) Protection is an interesting word, isn’t it? In organised crime it’s a euphemism for extortion and predatory behaviour by criminals.
This excellently illustrates and avoids the presistent problem of drinkers, trade association and beer writers confusing ownership with control that we have seen play out in the last decade or come of US craft brewery shell game. Show me the shareholders’ agreement!!
For Craft Beer & Brewing, Kate Bernot has a detailed update on Fonio, an small-scale farmed African cereal malted for brewing purposes that has gained acceptance since the 2018 introduction to Garrett Oliver described in this article in The Guardian as noted hereabouts back in 2023. Bernot shares some obervations that give a sense of what Fonio adds to a beer:
Vinnie Cilurzo, owner and brewer at Russian River in Windsor, California, agrees that fonio’s vinous, lychee-like contributions defy what most people—brewers and drinkers alike—expect from malt. A Belgian-style blonde ale brewed with 30 percent fonio has become a semiregular beer at Russian River’s taprooms—particularly during the warmer months, when its lean body and bright fruitiness feel especially appropriate. Cilurzo says it doesn’t take much fonio in the grist for it to have an impact. “My advice: You don’t have to go all the way to 30 percent,” he says. “Fifteen to 20 percent will also leave a thumbprint on the beer.”
What really struck me is how pale the beer in the accompanying image is. Pale as Zima. When my crime novels set in the early 1990s come out you’ll see me using that image: “I could tell he was guilty – he’d turned as pale as Zima.”
Never that way at all, we saw Stan’s latest Hop Queries hit the inbox last Friday including this note on production levels in Australia after the harvest there:
Reacting to diminishing worldwide demand for hops, Hop Products Australia continued to reduce acreage for 2026. Farmers strung 8.3% fewer acres and produced 11.7% fewer hops. They harvested almost 2.9 million pounds. For perspective, that’s equal to 3.4% of the US crop or to the amount of Mosaic farmers in the Yakima Valley harvested.
As you consider the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness” antipodean, here’s the notes:
Note #1: “…craft beer off 8% for latest 4 wks thru May 9…”
Note #2: a beer blog becomes, what, a booze blog?
Note #3: a return to beer writing?
Note #4: another return I’m pretty sure I don’t care about.
What is it with otherwise sane folk trying to scratch a living from a niche topic that leads them to speak of praise the niche’s given opp – the necessary “evil empire” to the purity of the niche – with all the eloquence of a six year old with stomach flu talking to Beulah on the big white telephone? I thought of that when I read this grab bag of sneering cliché:
“The Bad Beer That’s an Incredible Beverage” by Tyler Austin Harper is a bad piece that’s an incredible prism for understanding how beer can continue to thrive as a symbol of populist Americana even as it continues to lose market share to flavored malt beverages, canned cocktails, and whatever we’re calling Cayman Jack these days. Much like the New York Times Opinion section’s hackneyed forays into thinking critically about the trade, Harper’s take advances the argument that the craft brewing “movement” (such as it is) has gone too far. It’s a mixture of personal preference and surface-level cultural observation of a piece with the dreck David Chang was pushing in the pages of Esquire literally a dozen years ago.
If you’re going to shit on someone else’s writing it might be good to be interesting yourself as you do. Why is it so hard to understand that very few care about your chosen drinking hobby? With far greater clarity, ATJ has been trying to put his finger on what makes Belgian beer culture unique and, after years of looking beneath the surface, is not quite sure he’s been successful:
… thinking about Belgian beer culture I thought about beer and its associated obsessions — metal, gaming, men’s solitary hobbies, loneliness, the need to be someone else which ends in self-immolation (Brunhild trying to burn down the hall with Hagen and associates still inside perhaps?). Belgian beer culture, like beer culture, whether out in the cities and towns or in traditional bars or specialist beer joints, could be confusing, and I am not sure I found what I was looking for. Or did I?
And sticking with beer joint culture, a great barman has passed away in Chicago, Sam Sianis of the Billy Goat Tavern:
Millions of Americans knew of Mr. Sianis and his bar without ever crossing Chicago city limits, thanks to one of its most famous regulars, the syndicated columnist Mike Royko… Mr. Sianis made it an equal-opportunity establishment: Prolific drinkers, wayward pols, off-duty cabbies and the occasional celebrity all received the same friendly beer and a shot, often from Mr. Sianis himself. “Sam was the perfect host,” Don Rose, a journalist, said in an interview. In Mr. Royko’s columns, the Billy Goat became a font of tales, true and tall. Mr. Sianis once kicked out the same customer six times in one night for fighting while drunk. And Mr. Sianis swore he witnessed another man down 150 drinks in a sitting.
Another sort of fluid based establishment was the topic of Every Pub in Dublin‘s focus last Friday – pubs on islands you can only reach by boat and not via a bridge:
Arranmore’s 6 pubs is quite a lot for one island, and it has made me wonder about what other offshore (before someone comes and lists most of the pubs in Cork City…) island pubs there are. And also if I can actually tick all of those off too. This is not a promise to do that. I might, but I’m not guaranteeing I’ll do it it like I have with Dublin and also The Rosses. I’m going off the 2024-5 full licence file here, so there is a very high chance I’m missing somewhere, but I made a reference back to the 2010-11 file to try find any lost pubs too. I’m going to start North and work my way counter-clockwise here, so places I’ve been mostly work their way to the top… I am also only counting islands you still need a boat to get to – I may have an Achill great-grandfather, but you’re basically mainlanders now!
It is even an island if there’s a bridge? Which leads to this interesting piece from BBC Worchestershire on the state of small breweries and what may be keeping some open:
Sarah Saleh, owner of The Hop Shed Brewery, in Suckley, Worcester, said: “Without the tap room we wouldn’t still be here. I think the breweries that are closing are the ones without a direct outlet for their beers.” Saleh continued: “I know when we set up here, 10 years ago, I can think of two breweries locally that were set up but didn’t have tap rooms, and they’re now no longer here. “It always amazes me that on a Friday night when the tap room is open, and we stand here in a barn in the middle of nowhere, and before you know it there’s 200 people here. “They’re enjoying food from local providers and enjoying the beer that’s been brewed here on site.
It is even a community brewery if there isn’t a taproom? Maybe. What else can make a brewery part of the community? Reporting from Norway, Knut attended a gathering of five Danish breweries invited by local Haandbryggeriet to show off their stuff… and one of the attendees had a particularly interesting back story:
Together with the Danish employment authorities, Stepping Stone has developed a program aimed at improving the conditions for refugees entering the Danish workforce. It is deliberately flexible — designed around the individual rather than the system. Each participant’s working hours, responsibilities, and workplace are shaped by their skills, needs, and current life situation, creating a more realistic and supportive path into employment. But the program doesn’t stop at work placements. Alongside hands-on experience at the brewery, participants are offered opportunities to build skills that extend beyond the job itself.
And also out and about has been Ed, who continues his reports from his trade mission to Austria, this time with his stop at Trumer of Saltzberg where he witnessed a method:
They have a six roller mill from 1965 and use the Kubessa method when brewing. Named after the brewer from Cologne that patented it in 1903, in the Kubessa method the husk is separated from the endosperm during milling. It is not added to the Mash Conversion Vessel during the early stages of mashing, only being added prior to lautering so it can help with wort separation. It means less husk polyphenols get in the beer. It’s said to make a beer taste more elegant, and certainly the Trumer Pils in Vienna was very smooth. We had John Brauer, EBC grand fromage, explain to us on the coach that in fact little difference can be detected in fresh beer, but the Kubessa method give greater flavour stability so its advantages become more apparent over time.
That’s a lot of specific technical information. Mr. Gladman has shared some very specific emotional information, facts which he believes form the foundation for his love of Pastis:
On Saturdays I would walk the half-hour round trip there and back to spend my pocket money. I still remember filling the small white paper bag each week. It started off smooth and stiff then slowly softened and rumpled over the rest of the morning as I dipped into it for treats.I remember the aniseed balls best of all. I never bought too many — I didn’t want to spoil my enjoyment. The immediate pleasure of fizzy cola bottles was showy but no match for the deep joy of a well-sucked aniseed ball with its slow reveal, layer after intense layer, leading to that tiny black kernel of anise almost too challenging but all the better for it. I saved them for last because they would perfume the bag itself — you could smell them even after they were gone.
And, speaking of lingering aromas, Jeff gave us a history of the Cascade hops with his thoughts on what have made them so successful:
I’d add that Cascades have, ironically, come to achieve that quality of “nobility.” It’s true they’re more intense and robust than the old landrace varieties from Europe, but they’re also incredibly balanced and elegant. They offer a lovely bitterness, and are versatile as aroma hops (we’re going to get a taste of that in this year’s Oregon Homegrown collab.) When people taste Cascade, they’re tasting the same thing, too, which isn’t always the case with modern hops.
There. We will leave it there for this week and for this month. Soon it will be June with all that entails. Live it up. And again with this one last thing thing. Your weekly reminder that there will be an edition of The Session next month celebrating Martyn Cornell’s final book Porter and Stout: A Complete History. Boak and Bailey will share an update soon on when you need to get your thoughts organized in preparation.
Which means you, please, need to keep an eye on Boak and Bailey postings every Saturday and adding to their fabulously entertaining footnotes week after week at Patreon. And do look out for more of Stan’s new “One Link, One Paragraph” format. Then hunt out something in someone’s archives! Leave oblique comments on someone’s post from 2009!! Listen to a few of Lew’s podcasts and get your emailed issue of Episodes of my Pub Life by David Jesudason on certain Fridays. And Phil Mellows is at the BritishBeerBreaks. Once a month, Will Hawkes issues his London Beer City newsletter and do sign up for Katie’s wonderful self-governing totes autonomous website featuring The Gulp, too. Ben’s Beer and Badword remains on pause but there is reading at The Glass which is going back to being a blog. Any more? We have Ontario’s own A Quick Beer and All About Beer is still offering a range of podcasts – and there’s also Mike Seay’s The Perfect Pour. Plus follow the venerable Full Pint podcast! And there’s the Craft Beer Channel on Youtube as well as the archives of the Beer Ladies Podcast.*
*No footnotes this week.