Brewing again.

After much cleaning, we're ready to brew again - so let's!

I say we, but the rest of the gang don't get back until tomorrow, and I'm sure they'll be going straight to bed when they do, what with the jet-lag and the swine flu, which they'll probably catch on the plane and then give to me...

So I'm brewing. That is, I'm supervising the machinery as it mashes-in. Actually, that's making it sound terribly high-tech, and it really isn't. We have a simple hydrator cobbled on to the end of a electrically powered auger - so once the malt's in the hopper and the liquor flow is adjusted there's nothing much to do while it all falls into the mash tun. But I do like to keep a lookout for odd bits of metal, mice, etc. falling out of the works.

Anyway, there I am, ear-defenders on (the auger makes a terrible racket), I glance round and notice a local publican and good customer has crept up on me. I jump, he laughs. He (let's call him Mr. X.) wants some beer, and of course I'm happy to oblige.

Mr. X runs a small country pub, popular with the locals - it's a genuinely rural area and everyone's been working long hours cutting stuff, or feeding / milking stuff, or whatever these rural types do all day (and half the bloody night it seems like, in the fields behind us - but that's another story). He tells me he's had the worst two months he's ever had. His business always quiets down in the summer, and while it's a really nice spot - it's not a tourist destination. The games - the darts, pool, etc. are out of season. He's done a lot of work fixing up an outside area - nice tables, set up for barbecue - neat, but the weather has been really disapointing. It's a bugger really.

Funny thing is, Mr. X's pub is only about 30 mins walk from my house down quiet country lanes, but I never go. Truly, the biggest problem with the world is people just like me. That's the problem with the roads - it's not Polish truckers or bloody caravans - it's all the other cars (and vans). That's the problem with the environment - too many people consuming and discarding the way we do here - and more, doing it more like us, every day.

Christmas is coming...

Well, that's it - the cards for our customers are in the post. "Customers"? - actually that's a bit weak - but something like "valued retail partners" sounds a bit creepy. Anyway - you know who you are - thanks, and keep the orders coming.

Since our first brew in July, we've done a lot of work on our Stout, which went from 4.0% to 4.5%, got a proper name ("Dry Stout"), pump clip and lots of compliments. That said - we've come to the conclusion that it worked better at the lower strength, although some of the minor tweaks we've made have been positive. Accordingly (fanfare), I'm happy to announce (drum roll) the imminent return of "No. 2 Stout".

Our strong beer (the 6.5%) "Genuine Stunning" turned out really well. The good news is that we haven't sold it all yet - so some can can go forward into our "Ageing Program" which will allow us to produce some proper blended beers over the next few months - I feel a proper porter coming on - watch this space.

We're now producing a golden ale - called "Golden" - this was an experiment for us. We find a lot of these modern pale ales rather samey - grapefruit (or at least citrussy) aromas and often pithy or astringent in the mouth, sometimes with a sort of musty, dusty malt taste. Or if they're not like that - they can be rather faint or even watery. (See - I'm really not keen.) That said - I appreciate why we have them - hoppy, sessionable, quenching, popular and economical. All things I'm in favour of. So we decided to try to tick those boxes, without brewing a cliché. The idea was that it should be easy to brew, easy to sell, and easy to drink. Well - it's turned out to need just as much care as any other beer (of course) - and 4 separate hop additions, throwing Goldings into our usual blend. But we've got what I wanted - a pale gold ale with a hoppy niff (not grapefruit), tasty, with a balanced bitterness which leaves room for a couple more. It seems to be going down well. I actually like it - which is as it should be.

What news of the Best Bitter? I hear you all clamour. Well - we've increased the hopping across the board by 10%. That doesn't sound much - but it's enough to lift the beer quite noticeably. We were really surprised at how much difference it has made - not so much to the late bitterness (we didn't want it too long) but the nose is more distinct (still quite soft - which is good), and there's more hop in the mouth. Becky really likes this now.

"How do you come up with names for all your beers?" Is a question that we don't get asked. Our cunning plan was fiendishly simple: The regular beers were to be named for their style, so we'd have "Dry Stout" and "Best Bitter" - the first few (test) brews were numerical, which gave us "No. 1 Bitter", "No. 2 Stout" and "No. 3 Bitter". There was almost "4F" (don't ask).
It's a combination of marketing sense (oxymoron?) - the brand is "Stringers" not Old Cowtilter (or whatever) and a pet peeve - what kind of thing is Stunned Mullet? (that's a real name from the past - not our past of course). If I go up to the bar and see a clip (and it just had to have a picture of a fish with a bad haircut on it - you know it did) what's it going to be? Dark? Light? Bitter? Mild?

Of course, simple plans never work out. The seasonal beers, which tend to the historical, need to be distinguished, it looks like "No. 2 Stout" is to be a regular and I want to shoehorn a lower strength bitter in to the range but I don't know what to call it. I've fond memories of Brakspears "Ordinary" - at least that's what it was called, it's name seems to be "Bitter". Which seems a bit terse, even for me.