Gothenburg, Sweden. 19 Feb. 2017. Woke up to the media aftermath of the latest Trump outburst: the astonishing claim that implied there had been a terror attack in Sweden the night before. It is not for this blog to go into detail about that utter nonsense, but I can admit to indulging in at least one Alternative Fact in Sweden, on the Saturday, while visiting Swedish craft brewery Beerbliotek’s tap room.
Artwork decorating one of Gothenburg’s finest breweries
The American woman next to me in the tap room was desperate to avoid talk of That Man. “I’m sick of being asked about it”, she protested to her Swedish friends. Understandably. It was as if to assure us “I didn’t vote for him!”. I suspect there is no let-up for her, following Sunday morning’s “revelation”.
This was not how I was going to begin this blog post. As I wrote my notes in the understated “tap room” adjacent to the brewery itself, I was thinking Lincoln City’s shock win in the FA Cup would have the required ring of unbelievability . The beer I was drinking on THAT Saturday was called Alternative Fact. Continue reading
“Hey Sophie, why don’t you come along to the Woking Food and Drink Festival,” they said. “I would, but I don’t live anywhere near Woking,” said Sophie. “But I know a man who does…”*
Which is how I ended up writing a guest post for Sophie Atherton. Why a blog post, for somebody else’s blog? Well, Sophie is an award-winning beer journalist who writes regularly for the Daily Telegraph and other nationals. She has food cred too, as the first accredited woman beer sommelier in the UK. Her blog is called A FemAle View on Beer. I am indeed honoured.
Sophie Atherton, whose A FemAle View on Beer I guest blogged for
I’m hardly going to write “MaltJerry does Pig in a Day”, even if “Pig in a Day” was the name of the course I took part in at River Cottage HQ. Might boost the views, though… Surprisingly, it took the whole day before anyone mentioned David Cameron, that’s how foodie we participants were.
The River Cottage HQ cookery course “Pig in a Day” was a birthday present from my wife. Eight others were on the course for reasons unconnected to the anniversary of my birth. Four were on a stag do. Either lost, or the most Waitrose stag do ever.
First, catch your pork. River Cottage HQ Pig in a Day course
Just a quick post to say “I’m back!”.
To a chorus of: “We didn’t notice you were gone”, the MaltJerry blog returns after a hiatus of several months. It was not abandoned, merely “suspended” by my web host, following unforeseen, but perhaps predictable technical difficulties.
Christmas dinner 2015 chez MaltJerry
Apologies to everyone hoping for or expecting a write-up. I have received some great beers in the post in recent months, sampled some fantastic brews and drams, been to some brilliant events, eaten (and dare I say, cooked) some delicious meals, and changed in the way I think about “owning” whisky.
I wanted to come back with an all-new approach and look, but realised that would just delay things even more.
Many thanks to PolitisktinkorrPappa.wordpress.com for sorting this whole thing out.
Above and beyond the call of duty by many a mile.
A double American IPA on a Monday night? Surely not! A double IPA, at 11.5% ABV is no after-work quaffer. But, I would argue, on a tired, quiet Monday evening, it is just right. There is, possibly, no better time.
The double IPA that prompted this post is from a classic American craft brewery: Flying Dog. I took it at the end of a double-dog day with an inhumanely early start and travel. The stuff that had to be dealt with after could only be managed by wrestling it. So, when meeting up with a colleague not seen in a while, to wind down with just a couple of beers, it seemed a good (if odd) night for a Double Dog.
A glass of the wrong stuff? Double Dog on keg and in bottle.
A double or imperial IPA is not something I would normally countenance on an evening so early in the week. Or many other evenings. I think of a DIPA (or IIPA) as a special occasion, culmination beer. An after-dinner snifter, a port-and-Stilton finisher, with your Christmas cracker crown finally removed. However, there is a reason why a Monday is better. Continue reading
Did you know beer makes cows less farty? It’s true! Rod Jones of Meantime Brewing told me. OK, it’s nearly true. Actually, it’s feeding cattle on spent malt grains that reduces the cow’s methane emission by 40%. Helps make the world just that little bit less greenhouse-y.
Part of The Knowledge Master Class course
I learned this amazing flatulence fact at the launch of Meantime Brewing’s new beer appreciation courses called The Knowledge. Rod Jones, Meantime’s beer taster supreme, is our host and is here to tell us all about The Knowledge.
Excuse me for confusing beer and Krautrock, but the beer world is embracing the can to an extent not seen since the heyday of the German rock band Can. There was a time when at least the perception of any right-drinking beer lover was that the can was an indicator of an inferior product. Filtered and pasteurised, tainted by the metal.
In the 70s, cult favourites Can, progenitors of so-called Krautrock, whose album titles I borrowed for my headline, seemed to me and my little brother, the height of freaky rock. We were a little too young to know, perhaps. We were also a little too young for beer. Not too young, however, to notice that beer culture, like music culture was changing. Beer in a can, on the other hand, was normal.
MaltJerry stands in front of a Fourpure Brewery stack of Pils cans and underneath the sleeve pics for two classic Can albums
From our viewpoint, now, in the actual future, the 70s look retro hip. Everybody drank their beer from dimpled pint glasses and my dad had a hipster moustache. Even in bleak, three-day week Britain, brewers thought cans were so good they put seven pints in them and called it a party. Bottles seemed as old hat as flat caps. Are times changing?
March 20: The EquiCox. The time of the year when everyone on the planet has the same amount of daylight until the next TV show involving Professor Brian Cox. It is also the eve of the Vernal Equinox* and coincidentally, the first total solar eclipse of 2015. It is no coincidence that this is the day chosen for the UK launch of Duvel Tripel Hop 2015, a special, limited edition beer.
Duvel Tripel Hop 2015 Equinox, Eclipse and EquiCox
The Day of the EquiCox. Professor Brian Cox eclipses the sun
You do wonder if a limited edition beer can ever really be launched. I wonder, anyway, because by the time a special, limited edition beer is written about, it will be just as special but even more limited. But hey, if you get invited to a launch, well, you’re not going to turn it down over a point of semantics, are you?
The Tripel Hop version of this classic, Belgian, golden ale Duvel, has made an annual appearance since 2007, which was two years after physicist Brian Cox first appeared on our TV screens and eight years after the last solar eclipse visible from the UK. I went to the Three Johns pub in Islington for launch night***. Continue reading
So, farewell then, IPA is Dead, they* said.
But you were not dead.
That rumour is scotched,
Like some other BrewDog beers.
(But not Alice Porter.)
Single hop varietals is the spice of life.
That was your catchphrase.
– EJ Kribb (17.5% ABV)
With apologies to Private Eye (again).
IPA is Dead 2014 box set
* “They” being MaltJerry, in all fairness. Continue reading
Looking for a special whisky
Today, 8 Dec, is a special day. I celebrate it every year; the anniversary of my brother-in-law donating a kidney to his sister, Cim, my wife. Part of the celebration is sending a bottle of whisky to Jonas. It’s a token of thanks and acknowledgement but cannot really express the depth of gratitude we both feel for how much of a difference that act of heroism has made to our lives. Going to Antarctica? Not even thinkable.
This year is ten years, and being a round number, I feel that this year’s whisky should be extra special in some way. On the 5th anniversary, I bought the Highland Park Hjärta, a limited edition whisky whose name (heart) spoke to the issue. Getting it to Jonas in the north of Sweden was a bit of an odyssey. How could I top that? Should I even try?
Another Highland Park might fit the bill, and there are some very fine, very expensive whiskies, some of which are even harder get hold of than the Hjärta. Perhaps one from the range named after Norse gods and warriors. I haven’t tasted many of them and it’s important to me that it’s something I know he (and I) will really like. Too risky? Continue reading