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21-10-2022, 07:10
Visit the Shut up about Barclay Perkins site (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2022/10/chicago-wednesday-part-one.html)
It’s the same drill as always. Derek arises first and gets the morning’s essentials on the go. Tea and bacon.
We’re running short on bacon, sadly. Derek fills out the sandwiches with a fried egg. Dead good, except for the sweet bread. It reminds me of my days working in Leeds. Where the canteen made all sorts of breakfast sandwich delights. Involving various combinations of fried meat and eggs.
“Then they started cooking full English breakfasts.” I tell Derek. I don’t mention that I ate them on company time. That made them all the sweeter. (Maybe greasier would be more apt?)
An early call at the brewery today: 9 AM for mashing in. Another lovely sunny day makes the walk a pleasure.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONqpAs5cLrUeVfcRJaY4KDupdQvjTf1JfGgDouny6a1 f-ttp1byhGWvsWIHsv_L5SXBlS2Ibj-f6AN4iYuxWlHdKd6IaUpKMrxU6rYLueo3MUBeRljw_x6ZJKaxj rK1bVmAKWnz7pOAgaAdqaiL1qEQBGkQzT8YY0pwmdQ8xLUlCqC LW3sKGwgsNq/w640-h480/L_railway.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONqpAs5cLrUeVfcRJaY4KDupdQvjTf1JfGgDouny6a1 f-ttp1byhGWvsWIHsv_L5SXBlS2Ibj-f6AN4iYuxWlHdKd6IaUpKMrxU6rYLueo3MUBeRljw_x6ZJKaxj rK1bVmAKWnz7pOAgaAdqaiL1qEQBGkQzT8YY0pwmdQ8xLUlCqC LW3sKGwgsNq/s2000/L_railway.jpg)
“You see how there’s no-one else walking?” I remark.
“Yes. That’s one of the reasons I said that there doesn’t seem to be a sense of community here.”
“At least there’s a pavement. There weren’t on some of the roads around where I lived on Staten Island. How’s that for positively discouraging walking?”
We get to the brewery a few minutes late. But we haven't missed anything. They haven’t started brewing yet.
Emily is in charge of the brewing today. She started in the main brewery and then moved to the pilot plant.
“We have our most experienced brewers working here. They need to understand the process properly.” Mike tells me.
“That makes sense.” Even to a thicko like me.
It's very hands on.
“They’re basically just two large soup kettles.” Mike says of the mash tun and copper. Though fitted with steam jackets to heat them up.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeA2Aql1kpTvcW13rN_Ho-cmtJMDddD_wbre7Z-aityqKkHwrqdmzJIW6rJW9ACjSpFtrZis69a77IE1z3U6VNsdY w6j8QISYGG-VuqfijzEeh5HQNS0wQCmRABaLoku2YRvjfTz4Y8R9u7BJsDJ8J YCXKXWPHMBnhRo5ve-ZimwD0Tvq5ZbX4IQQ/w640-h480/mash_mixing.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeA2Aql1kpTvcW13rN_Ho-cmtJMDddD_wbre7Z-aityqKkHwrqdmzJIW6rJW9ACjSpFtrZis69a77IE1z3U6VNsdY w6j8QISYGG-VuqfijzEeh5HQNS0wQCmRABaLoku2YRvjfTz4Y8R9u7BJsDJ8J YCXKXWPHMBnhRo5ve-ZimwD0Tvq5ZbX4IQQ/s2000/mash_mixing.jpg)
The water is at strike temperature and the malt (Chevallier pale) is poured in. I let Derek do the paddle stirring bit. Too much like hard work for me. I’ve done it once. Never again, if I can possibly avoid it.
We wait while the mashing magic occurs.
“I love that smell.” I do love the malty sweetness that emerges from a mash.
While Emily stirs the mash every five minutes – she’s a bundle of energy- we try some of the beers in the pilot’s conicals. I would tell you which, but, you know, trade secrets. * Lovely, they were, mind.
I haven’t told you what we’re brewing. It’s a 1914 Trumans LK, or London Keeper. The one Pale Ale that Truman brewed in London. At 4.5% ABV, very much an Ordinary Bitter for the time.
At the appropriate time, that is, after running off and sparging, Derek adds the hops. I’ve done sod all physically to contribute to the brew. My role as more spiritual. Abstract. Infallible. No, ineffable. Is that right? Something without physical presence, anyway.
With the boil bubbling away, there’s not much to see for a while.
“Would you like to sit in on the 11 o’ clock tasting panel? Just for fun. You don’t have to give scores.”
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6X5Wz7r6wSKGRD-297R_7P9ATRj4LXlQex1d6UVqU_kgi9uQtlR5OkifdDBSxNIlG bUDCyIXERkzDog1mfzLC5HXnvNQSyGULTAFlkUkNXUxcF5SAQD NKP8SoT2rVJ3RQlLHnHYGGW4zZEVJLz2oGuk6FKLPNi7zqsYaZ PV3jQ0VqmZHONM5FF0GB/w480-h640/tasting_panel.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6X5Wz7r6wSKGRD-297R_7P9ATRj4LXlQex1d6UVqU_kgi9uQtlR5OkifdDBSxNIlG bUDCyIXERkzDog1mfzLC5HXnvNQSyGULTAFlkUkNXUxcF5SAQD NKP8SoT2rVJ3RQlLHnHYGGW4zZEVJLz2oGuk6FKLPNi7zqsYaZ PV3jQ0VqmZHONM5FF0GB/s2000/tasting_panel.jpg)
Why not? I don’t get the chance to do this often. Bit of a busman’s holiday for Derek.
There are six beers. Two the same beer from different batches. Derek, professional that he is, takes notes. I go through the tasting motions. But I’m really just enjoying a morning beer.
With no discussion before all the scoring, it’s a solemn affair. Making the discussion that follows seem all the livelier. Much better tasters than me, the professionals are picking up flavours I can’t spot, even after they’ve pointed them out. Fascinating to eavesdrop, though.
When we’re finished with my humbling, we go back to throw in the hops. Well, Derek does. And holds the bag of whole hops down with a paddle for much longer than I would have managed.
Then the magic starts. There’s the sugar that Matt Becker brought. A pail of No. 2 invert. Looking quite dark in such a large mass. We all have a taste. So luscious and full of dark fruit flavours. Really dead tasty. Matt’s done a good job making the invert. Both the Black Eagle beers used his sugar, too.
Our work done, Mike suggests Sheffield's for food. We'll hear about that next time.
* I forgot to write them down.
My flights were paid for by Goose Island and my accommodation by Chicago Brewseum.
More... (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2022/10/chicago-wednesday-part-one.html)
It’s the same drill as always. Derek arises first and gets the morning’s essentials on the go. Tea and bacon.
We’re running short on bacon, sadly. Derek fills out the sandwiches with a fried egg. Dead good, except for the sweet bread. It reminds me of my days working in Leeds. Where the canteen made all sorts of breakfast sandwich delights. Involving various combinations of fried meat and eggs.
“Then they started cooking full English breakfasts.” I tell Derek. I don’t mention that I ate them on company time. That made them all the sweeter. (Maybe greasier would be more apt?)
An early call at the brewery today: 9 AM for mashing in. Another lovely sunny day makes the walk a pleasure.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONqpAs5cLrUeVfcRJaY4KDupdQvjTf1JfGgDouny6a1 f-ttp1byhGWvsWIHsv_L5SXBlS2Ibj-f6AN4iYuxWlHdKd6IaUpKMrxU6rYLueo3MUBeRljw_x6ZJKaxj rK1bVmAKWnz7pOAgaAdqaiL1qEQBGkQzT8YY0pwmdQ8xLUlCqC LW3sKGwgsNq/w640-h480/L_railway.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONqpAs5cLrUeVfcRJaY4KDupdQvjTf1JfGgDouny6a1 f-ttp1byhGWvsWIHsv_L5SXBlS2Ibj-f6AN4iYuxWlHdKd6IaUpKMrxU6rYLueo3MUBeRljw_x6ZJKaxj rK1bVmAKWnz7pOAgaAdqaiL1qEQBGkQzT8YY0pwmdQ8xLUlCqC LW3sKGwgsNq/s2000/L_railway.jpg)
“You see how there’s no-one else walking?” I remark.
“Yes. That’s one of the reasons I said that there doesn’t seem to be a sense of community here.”
“At least there’s a pavement. There weren’t on some of the roads around where I lived on Staten Island. How’s that for positively discouraging walking?”
We get to the brewery a few minutes late. But we haven't missed anything. They haven’t started brewing yet.
Emily is in charge of the brewing today. She started in the main brewery and then moved to the pilot plant.
“We have our most experienced brewers working here. They need to understand the process properly.” Mike tells me.
“That makes sense.” Even to a thicko like me.
It's very hands on.
“They’re basically just two large soup kettles.” Mike says of the mash tun and copper. Though fitted with steam jackets to heat them up.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeA2Aql1kpTvcW13rN_Ho-cmtJMDddD_wbre7Z-aityqKkHwrqdmzJIW6rJW9ACjSpFtrZis69a77IE1z3U6VNsdY w6j8QISYGG-VuqfijzEeh5HQNS0wQCmRABaLoku2YRvjfTz4Y8R9u7BJsDJ8J YCXKXWPHMBnhRo5ve-ZimwD0Tvq5ZbX4IQQ/w640-h480/mash_mixing.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDeA2Aql1kpTvcW13rN_Ho-cmtJMDddD_wbre7Z-aityqKkHwrqdmzJIW6rJW9ACjSpFtrZis69a77IE1z3U6VNsdY w6j8QISYGG-VuqfijzEeh5HQNS0wQCmRABaLoku2YRvjfTz4Y8R9u7BJsDJ8J YCXKXWPHMBnhRo5ve-ZimwD0Tvq5ZbX4IQQ/s2000/mash_mixing.jpg)
The water is at strike temperature and the malt (Chevallier pale) is poured in. I let Derek do the paddle stirring bit. Too much like hard work for me. I’ve done it once. Never again, if I can possibly avoid it.
We wait while the mashing magic occurs.
“I love that smell.” I do love the malty sweetness that emerges from a mash.
While Emily stirs the mash every five minutes – she’s a bundle of energy- we try some of the beers in the pilot’s conicals. I would tell you which, but, you know, trade secrets. * Lovely, they were, mind.
I haven’t told you what we’re brewing. It’s a 1914 Trumans LK, or London Keeper. The one Pale Ale that Truman brewed in London. At 4.5% ABV, very much an Ordinary Bitter for the time.
At the appropriate time, that is, after running off and sparging, Derek adds the hops. I’ve done sod all physically to contribute to the brew. My role as more spiritual. Abstract. Infallible. No, ineffable. Is that right? Something without physical presence, anyway.
With the boil bubbling away, there’s not much to see for a while.
“Would you like to sit in on the 11 o’ clock tasting panel? Just for fun. You don’t have to give scores.”
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6X5Wz7r6wSKGRD-297R_7P9ATRj4LXlQex1d6UVqU_kgi9uQtlR5OkifdDBSxNIlG bUDCyIXERkzDog1mfzLC5HXnvNQSyGULTAFlkUkNXUxcF5SAQD NKP8SoT2rVJ3RQlLHnHYGGW4zZEVJLz2oGuk6FKLPNi7zqsYaZ PV3jQ0VqmZHONM5FF0GB/w480-h640/tasting_panel.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6X5Wz7r6wSKGRD-297R_7P9ATRj4LXlQex1d6UVqU_kgi9uQtlR5OkifdDBSxNIlG bUDCyIXERkzDog1mfzLC5HXnvNQSyGULTAFlkUkNXUxcF5SAQD NKP8SoT2rVJ3RQlLHnHYGGW4zZEVJLz2oGuk6FKLPNi7zqsYaZ PV3jQ0VqmZHONM5FF0GB/s2000/tasting_panel.jpg)
Why not? I don’t get the chance to do this often. Bit of a busman’s holiday for Derek.
There are six beers. Two the same beer from different batches. Derek, professional that he is, takes notes. I go through the tasting motions. But I’m really just enjoying a morning beer.
With no discussion before all the scoring, it’s a solemn affair. Making the discussion that follows seem all the livelier. Much better tasters than me, the professionals are picking up flavours I can’t spot, even after they’ve pointed them out. Fascinating to eavesdrop, though.
When we’re finished with my humbling, we go back to throw in the hops. Well, Derek does. And holds the bag of whole hops down with a paddle for much longer than I would have managed.
Then the magic starts. There’s the sugar that Matt Becker brought. A pail of No. 2 invert. Looking quite dark in such a large mass. We all have a taste. So luscious and full of dark fruit flavours. Really dead tasty. Matt’s done a good job making the invert. Both the Black Eagle beers used his sugar, too.
Our work done, Mike suggests Sheffield's for food. We'll hear about that next time.
* I forgot to write them down.
My flights were paid for by Goose Island and my accommodation by Chicago Brewseum.
More... (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2022/10/chicago-wednesday-part-one.html)