Brewing Progress

Today I have transferred Castlegate Brewery’s sixth brew from fermentation vessel to conditioning tank.  A bitter-style of beer based on a recipe for “Everard’s Beacon”, the beer is almost clear, looks and tastes like beer already.  Totally flat, of course, but will receive two weeks conditioning before bottling. 

If all the Brewery products end up like those tasted so far, the directors will be

well-satisfied at the results.  My main aim was to brew beer that does not taste like home brew and so far this is the case.    

We now have five beers ranging from golden summer beer to a sort-of barley wine at the conditioning stage.  The first is three weeks in the bottle and my share is down to its last eight pints.  The kitchen is now free from brew clutter and I can’t any longer lift vessel lids to sniff the eye-watering intensity of good-quality yeast getting on with what it does best.  Tomorrow I start brew seven, with another later in the week at the Harrogate premises and then brewing will start again the following week at Newcastle.  

It is fair to say the first-brewed beer is probably at its best and has now been tasted in accordance with my own criteria:   

St. Arbeck’s Gold 5.0% (recipe based on Hopback Summer Lightning)

Appearance:  Dark gold, no head unless poured from great height. Few bubbles.    

Smell:          Beer + hint of flowers (best I can do)

Taste:          Beer (this happens a lot!)    

Impressions:

Quaffable and refreshing cold or at cellar temperature.  Very similar to the shop-bought product, but less fizzy.  Worth repeating and an ideal base for experimenting with dry hopping, heather, lavender, herbs, etc. and degrees of bottle-priming.       

Bitter:          1

Sweetness:   2/3 (thus a 5-point scale becomes 10, showcasing my indecision)   

Score:          4 (seek out, ergo “brew more of same”)

Writing Progress – non-fiction

The more I want to write about, the less time I have for each item/project/subject. 

My recent shelved or dumped writing projects are non-fictional.  Having researched the world of beer blogging for my beer tasting notes and reports on micro-breweries and pubs I found very large number of people doing that already, equipped either with much better taste buds or olfactory imagination than mine.  Where I get “malty” and “hoppy”, they find a range of flavours that would do credit to the most creative wine buff.  I have well-developed receptors for bitterness, but since that taste dominates all else for me in beer brewed with high alpha acid-content hops (check out the jargon.  I can talk the talk at least), I tend to get “beer” or “strong Espresso aftertaste, or “quinine”. 

Olfactory shortcomings notwithstanding, a new beer blogger on the block is probably as necessary as a mayor in most cities, another over-the-counter analgesic or more romantic television portrayals of sexy vampires, so I have withdrawn from the field with good grace.  Instead, I shall concentrate on blogging about Castlegate Brewery products in the certain knowledge that there is no competition.   

The glossy regional mags have proved resistant to my pieces on micro-breweries.  Perhaps because most already have food and drink writers on the staff who guard their fiefdoms as vigorously as anyone else with a living to earn.  Also, I find magazine “styles” to be restrictive and don’t enjoy writing to suit them.  So, no more visits to said breweries in the guise of a “writer”.  At least for now.  A project on Victoria Cross winners similarly crashed and burned and as for my planned “Morris Traveller in Festival England”, the less said the better.  

The problem I find is somebody has done everything and everybody has done something so my potential markets are saturated .

So, for the time being, my non-fiction concerns the progress and products of Castlegate Brewery and researching history, crime and folklore for “Ester” and other fictional projects. 

Writing Progress – Fiction

“Ester and the Boggarts” is running along nicely (fiction, fantasy, child/teen/YA) with my research of settings (what filmics call “location”) working for me in terms of personal motivation and familiarity with place. 

I imagine the story being very filmable – perhaps for a tv series to occupy a slot much earlier than “Game of Thrones”, but on a proper channel – or a film franchise.  The UK-based theme park may follow a little later, so long as it’s in the north.  Book signings will take place in the east coast towns where “Ester” is set – Robin Hood’s Bay, Ravenscar, Whitby, Saltburn and others on the Yorkshire Riviera – together with smuggling-themed treasure hunts for traditional contraband.  No drugs, but lace, tea, Dutch geneva and brandy will be available. 

Such are the writing ambitions of my enthusiasm, untempered by reality or recent failure.  Good, aren’t they?  I mean no arrogance by this.  It is a form of

light-hearted self-motivation that works for me and attracts the Muses.   

Fiction is what I like writing the most. When the Muses are in Harrogate I love the process and I can type almost properly.  A thousand words in under an hour is easily achieved, even with a certain amount of backtracking for corrections.  Without the Greek ladies – who are fickle friends at best  – the words are ground out one at a time and none look right on the screen in any order.  My mood is variable, fickle as the Muses and swings to extremes rather more often than I would choose, so I know I have to get the words down as fast as possible and worry not at all about editing and re-drafting until it is finished.  The “first-draft”, as we writers call it.    

          

Novels suit me more than short stories and it will come as no surprise to those who know me that I have started several magnum opuses, but finished just one.  That France-set nonsense was rejected by several agents, as it deserved to be, but may work as a re-write with a different setting, younger characters, and a more definite origin and back story for the antagonist.  It may become incorporated into “Ester”. 

The other started works all have potential for resurrection and since all have by accident or design included fantasy elements, this appears to be my default writing genre.

The choice makes sense.  I flit from genre to genre for my reading and tend to concentrate on a current chosen favourite at the exclusion of all others.  These have alternated back-and-forth from adolescence until now in no definite order between science-fiction, fantasy (yes, they are separate), historical, crime, war, western (a long time ago, but thanks, Dad), horror and the loose collection under the label of “thriller”.  I have tried to write all bar two of the foregoing and for “Ester” and beyond my writing is likely to be historical crime fantasy.  A new sub-genre of my own. 

At about 12,000 words, Ester is well and truly started and stuff is happening.      

I am not the eponymous Ester, of course.  I am just writing her story.  Ester is an adult and has her own identities on social media.  he will be posting about her life before much longer, but not just yet. 

A New Brewery

Those who know me will not be surprised to hear I have started the Next Big Project before finishing any of those under way.  The research was completed yesterday, the order placed today and the equipment and ingredients will be collected tomorrow from the Hop and Grape in Darlington for transportation to, and setting up in, Newcastle. 

“Castle Gate Brewery” will possibly have its inaugural brew on the go by dusk tomorrow. Two in fact.  Both full mash recipes similar to those of award-winning, almost-household name beers that I shall keep anonymous since I am going to mess with the ingredients.  In particular the hops.  So they will sort-of be our recipes anyway!   

Maybe we will have a brew ready to drink by St. George’s Day, as a way of counterbalancing the hype concerning another local-ish saint.  Then again, at least St. P, D and A are all local.  Our English patron saint is, I think, Turkish and should in any case be replaced by St. Bede or Cuthbert or even somebody pre-Saxon.

Anyone got any ideas?  Any religious or secular affiliation will be considered.

Anyway St G’s beer won’t be a stout – that’s been done and is thus passé – but might be a strong old ale.  Or an IPA.  Perhaps a best bitter.  We’ll see.   

  

  

Beer Festival Report

Report on the Harrogate Round Table 22^nd Annual Charity Beer Festival

17th February 2012:

Unlike my only previous visit to the Crown Hotel, Harrogate – on an unremarkable New Year’s Eve circa. 1972 – one of the busiest areas was the 100 square yards or so of car park nearest to the hotel entrance.  The reason for this was, of course, the reason most public spaces are busier now than they used to be on evenings: a smoking ban-generated crowd of smokers. 

Unlike the crowds observed in, say, Newcastle’s Bigg Market, this one was buzzing – rather than shouting and screeching – with conversation concerning the contents of the small glasses held by all.  There was no atmosphere of threat or the strutting, pre-fight rituals to be seen in many town or city centres anywhere in the country on most weekend evenings.  I don’t just mean the big (or Bigg) places, either, since I witnessed testosterone-aggravated behaviour in the centre of tiny Whittlesey, Cambridgeshire, on a Saturday evening in January.

I passed through the smoke, as it wafted and eddied in the currents generated by the warm air accompanying the beerlore-related opinions and bullshit being spoken into reception, where I paid and was issued with my tokens and glass.  Thus processed, I entered the festival proper.  

All the beer-dispensing and entertainment areas were packed from my arrival at eight and had transformed into heaving by the time I left at ten.  The main room was wood-floored and noisy, making conversation difficult.  Just as well then I was Billy No Mates for the night.  A lone visitor.  Not a man drinking alone with only his thoughts for company, but a writer undertaking research. 

A small area was set up for performances of the singer/guitarist type, but was too busy to hang around.  One possible reason I have attended so few beer festivals (an amazing admission, considering how much of a beer lover I am, but then again I also like rock music and don’t exactly rush to the equivalent of open-air and/or large venue multi-band events) is my dislike of large noisy crowds and standing up for any length of time.    

A large area next to this overcrowded space, with an empty stage crying out for a use, lacked seats and lighting, but I made it my home for a few minutes as I drank and considered my first half, a glass of Saltaire Pale Ale, chosen as a starting beer for its tasting notes’ description of being a light, English pale bitter of 3.9% ABV. 

It was apparent from reading the programme that this was a small festival, as these things go, with perhaps 28 beers (mainly local) and a handful of ciders and perries.  Some generic wine was available – in red and white flavours – in what looked like ring-pull plastic containers; also a small range of the poorer types of lager (we know who they are, so no need to spell it out, is there?) and soft drinks.  These are necessary for those who don’t much like beer but are along for the social occasion, are designated drivers or feel like a change between brews.  

Sitting at a trestle table in semi-darkness soon palled, so I circulated a bit through packed rooms and quiet corridors in a planetary fashion, working my way up the ABV scale with Briscoe Brewery’s Chevin Chaser, Mighty Oak’s Oscar Wilde Mild, Daleside’s Pride of England, Goose Eye Special, Theakston’s Coopers Butt and Thornbridge’s Jaipur IPA.  The one that stood out – if not for being the best – was the mild, which I appreciated for its range and depth of flavours combined with a low strength of 3.7%.

Over time I gravitated to a leather sofa in a sponsors’ room, with its single beer pump and sparse population, where I wrote down notes without too much self-consciousness.  At least 30% of those present at the festival were women and masses of staff – about one person to each pump – made for quick and friendly service.  Most people were in small, quiet, mixed groups with a wide age range but small groups of men and women also gathered. 

Everyone else apart from me appeared to be amongst company and having a good time, whereas I probably looked like I was reprising my long history of being a “Health Inspector”.  It was with that unpleasant thought I started to wander again and, after a walk outside to break from the beer and crowds, I fetched up in a more convivial area sat next to a guy called Bernard.  He wasn’t on-his own in the sense I was, but was with his son who kept turning up with beers for him to try. 

Once five tokens were exhausted I knew I had had enough.  Two of my drinks were provided free, since somehow I did not hand over a token in exchange.  I didn’t realise until the end and so was unable to rectify the errors, but I appreciated my free drink and gave the surviving token to Bernard.

A tenner entry which included six halves and a basic glass (which I forgot to take) was pretty good value – more than pub prices but it WAS a charity event – and food was available, but seemed to be all hot and lacked variety as well as somewhere to sit and eat it.    

Extra tokens at £1 each meant supplementary drinks for those with large capacity would pay only a very fair £2 a pint equivalent after first six were gone, but the ciders, perries and (I think) wine were priced at two tokens each, which seemed harsh.  

There was enough of a beer range, with lots of them local but a few from farther afield.  A few ciders and perries, all seeming to cost twice as much as the beers, provided alternatives for what was a beer festival.  A notable absence from the beer selection was any kind of decent lager.  CAMRA wasn’t involved so surely some good keg lager could have been offered as a crisp, cool palate-cleanser even if no cask was available.  I didn’t see any free water dispensers which there should have been, although bottled water may have been on sale (which is not the same thing at all!)

Another recommendation for a festival I would organise would be a selection of bottled beers. To drink there or take away.

These criticism aside, I left my first beer festival for some time thinking it was great and looking forward to the next.  This time, with company.     

And so, to the beers tasted, in order of my preference: 

MT12009 
Thornbridge, Jaipur IPA 5.9%

Appearance:  Gold.

Smell:          Beer.

Taste:          Fruity, just-right level of bitterness.

Impressions: Soft, smooth, full-bodied, lacking hoppy IPA aroma, BUT my favourite.

CAMRA beer of the year 2010 and 2011.

Bitter:          3/5

Score:          4 (seek out)

MT12010 
Goose Eye Special 4.2%

Appearance:  Pale gold.

Smell:          Peach and gooseberry.

Taste:          Sharp and citrus fruit, lingering bitterness.

Impressions: Good aroma, best of the beers sniffed.

Bitter:          3

Score:          4 (seek out)

MT12011 

Theakstons Coopers Butt 4.3%

Appearance:  Amber.

Smell:          Beer.

Taste:          Creamy caramel and robust fruit.

Impressions: The fourth tasted and the first I wanted to repeat.st of the beers

Bitter:          4

Score:          4 (seek out)

MT12012 

Daleside Pride of England 4.1%

Appearance:  Pale gold.

Smell:          Floral.

Taste:          Citrus fruit.

Impressions: Easy drinking summer beer. Unremarkable, but pleasant and would have again.  Probably had enough by now (my seventh half).   

Bitter:          4

Score:          3 (okay)

MT12013 

Mighty Oak Brewery Oscar Wilde Mild 3.7%

Appearance:  Dark.

Smell:          Roasted coffee.

Taste:          Coffee.

Impressions: Easy drinking, smooth, no bitterness.  One was enough.

Champion beer of Great Britain 2011.

Bitter:          0

Score:          3 (okay)

MT12014 

Briscoe’s Brewery Chevin Chaser 4.3% (Bitter = 4/5)

Appearance:  Pale straw.

Smell:          Beer.

Taste:          Sharp, almost sour.  

Impressions: Thin and little body.

Bitter:          3

Score:          2 (why bother?)

"Prometheus". A kind of review.

On 8^th December 2011 I went to my first performance of physical theatre: “Prometheus, a river stained with iron”, held at the Pateley Bridge Playhouse.   

I meant to attempt a review and offer it to the local press, but this ambition faded over   time as I realised I had written not a dispassionate review, but a summary of how I experienced the performance and what I thought of it. 

Since 9^th December this piece sat in my hard drive, forgotten, but is now posted.  

Prometheus

“A River Stained with Iron.  No one dreams of civilisation in Paradise.”

Devised from a series of poems written by Philip Knight, a practitioner of physical theatre, “Prometheus” is a meditation on the story of fire being stolen from the gods and explores the idea of freedom in a universe filled with mystery and power.

Philip was alone on the stage, accompanied by experimental musician Mike Gosling.  

The performance begins with Mike playing haunting melodies on guitar whilst Philip sits with his back to the audience.  The music continues as Philip flings himself to the floor and then – as Prometheus – uncoils from his sprawled position to stand up.

“Hero,” the first of the fifteen poems has started with Prometheus sitting at the centre of the story, where the hero must stay – “at the very eye of the legend” – or become nothing.  There were hints of a Creation myth where Prometheus talks of his role.    

“Opportunity” is more urgent.  Music imitates the “bedspring sawing of the crickets”, hinting a warning.  Prometheus is alone amongst the scent of pine, within sight of Olympus and watching the fire.  Hypnotised by the fire, seeing its opportunity, he reaches out and seizes a burning branch.     

“Panic” is fast, driven by a chunky riff and powerful chords.  The fire branch glows red in the moonlight, shedding a trail of sparks.  Prometheus is pursued by the fire’s guardians to the shingle beach.    

“Forethought” starts with slow music.  Prometheus talks of sea frets tangy with salt as he moves through a cloud; experiences scents of fennel, liquorice and incense.  Wisdom feverish with ideas.  Murmuring of surf.  Reflection and lack of forethought.  Without fire, civilisation is a dream. Prometheus steps forward into the camp of men and the Age of Iron.       

“Trick”: A faster, rocky rhythm as of someone running or fleeing.  “This gift will carve a pace in history”.

“Handed over” has louder words and quieter, chunky, choppy rhythms.  Prometheus talks of his crazy grab for freedom that brought him to his quest.  Even as he rides the tide of History, does he have a choice he can make and still remain at the story’s centre? He must “hand over this phenomenon, this gift, this knowledge . . . ”  Fire will weave itself into mankind’s being. Prometheus must hand it over.

    

“Man” starts with powerful rock chords and riff.  Prometheus shouts “Man!”  His speed of thought, star-bending potential, blend of earth and light.  What an idea, to separate light from dark.  Power and danger.  Opportunity to test belief itself in the thundering cataract of FREEDOM then more power guitar. 

“(Wo)man”, “Faces in the Moon”, “Ritual”: couldn’t separate these three!

Quiet start, voice only.  Interlocking myriad forces crushed into idea that somebody, somewhere, is not happy.  Have I become a reflection of the cause?  Hounded, kneaded, pummelled into shape by habit.  I got lost in the human maze of phantasms and horrible imaginings.

Guitar alternates with words, then adds support.  “Howling at the moon with its human face.  What am I to man?  What punishment?  They glance at my reflection in the moon”.

“Pandora” is haunting, lost, romantic.  “Her footsteps in the sand would make men weep”.  “Sliver of power in female form, wired to the wyrd”.  Mild lust and eroticism, an idealised female.  “Curled in on herself like a sleeping cat”.  Complicated.  Men stumbling from their new ambitions, dazzled, bemused crazy.  Are woman a race apart?  Filled with awful magic and wired to the wyrd.  Complicated.    

“First Whisper” Barefoot on new grass.  Smoke curls, scrawling a message in clean air.  Something precious given up to the flames.  Pathway to the gods.  Much missed.    

“To make a move”  Discordant music, squeaks, sawing and grating.  Start again, with a new white page – made from pine forest, mashed, pulped and bleached white.             

 

“Stone” Quiet start, guitar and voice.  Demons “jostling for runes at the edge of your soul”.  Important not to offend the gods.  The eye watches the stone.  It does not move of itself.  The stone is both free and not-free. 

“Ravens”  Haunting, Middle-Eastern sound to the music.  The birds circle out of the rising sun each morning.  He tracks their movement at the edge of vision, as they hang in the air, seemingly motionless.  Perhaps one day they will pass on, but the steady light will not deflect them from their awful purpose .  The Universe has not shifted for Prometheus.  There is a ragged flap of wings . . .

The voice stops as music continues to fade out.

The whole physical aspect was powerful, with Philip demonstrating strength, balance and great control over his movements.  Mike’s music was at times almost heavy rock – a reminder of early Black Sabbath (or was it Zeppelin?). At others surreal, haunting and downright weird-sounding with his clever use of a slide. 

                   

When I first read the words “physical theatre practitioner” and “experimental musician” I flew back to the eighties and the seventies with memories, respectively, of bad progressive rock and not-funny alternative comedy.  I confess to feeling no great initial appeal, but I had just met Philip as the latest member of Nidderdale Writers Group and was interested in what he described as an evening of performance poetry.       

I was - and am - pleased I made the effort.  The performance was stunning and I was entranced for the whole fifty minutes.  The 73-seat venue was full of atmosphere, despite the tiny audience of just nine!  A missed opportunity for the people of Pateley Bridge and surrounding area.

Amazingly, as it seems to me, there is no current version available on cd, the poetry remains unpublished and “Prometheus” has been performed in public on just a small handful of occasions.  In addition, I have failed to find any detailed reviews.     

So, this will have to do! 

MT's First Beer Tastings

My “first” in that they are the latest, but follow (for the first time) my own guidelines and criteria without regard to tasting notes, reviews or the opinions of others.   

In no particular order other than as they were tasted since the development of the

MT Criteria. 

Caveat:

The work of my own senses, thus simple, likely to be reviewed and subject to change without notice 
. . . especially when I can standardise my colours and improve on “beer” as a description of smell and taste.   

MT12001

Tyne Bank Brewery, Silver Dollar 4.9% - draught

Appearance:  Amber.  Good white head.

Smells:         Peach, elderflower.

Tastes:         Citrus, caramel.

Impressions: Aromatic, refreshing, very hoppy, well-balanced.    

Bitterness:    3

Sweetness:   4

Score:          4 (seek out)

MT12002

Tyne Bank Brewery, Castle Gold, 3.9% - bottled

Appearance:  Golden.

Smell:          Peach.

Taste:          Citrus, peach and vanilla.

Impressions: Clean, fresh, refreshing.   

Bitterness:    3

Sweetness:   3

Score:          4 (seek out)

MT12003

Tyne Bank Brewery, Cherry Stout, 5.2% - bottled

Appearance:  Black.

Smell:          Cherries, chocolate, liquorice.  

Taste:          Cherries, chocolate, liquorice, ending with bitter coffee.

Impressions: Texture defines "smooth", velvet soft (pure silk . . . ?) reputedly down to the oatmeal.         

Bitterness:    4

Sweetness:   3

Score:          5 (wonderful)

MT12004

Durham Brewery, White Stout, 7.2% - bottle-conditioned and draught

Appearance:  Tawny.  Good head.

Smell:          Beer, complex.

Taste:          Beer, spicy, complex.

Impressions: Perfect balance, full-bodied, warming, marvellous.  Tastes stronger than 7.2%.  

Bitterness:    4

Sweetness:   4

Score:          5 = wonderful.


MT12005
Durham Brewery, Magus, 3.8% - bottle-conditioned 
Appearance:  Pale straw.

Smell:          Caramel.

Taste:          Caramel and lemon.

Impressions: Light, dry, zesty, refreshing.   

Bitterness:    4

Sweetness:   3

Score:          4 (seek out)

MT12006

Durham Brewery, Imperial Stout, 10% - bottle-conditioned
Appearance:  Black; pale-brown, surprisingly short-lived, head.

Smell:          Faint phenol/smoke.

Taste:          Complex, strong with liquorice, Marmite and a touch of phenol. 

Impressions: Very full-bodied, robust, mouth-filling, sweet and then bitter but neither dominates and they combine well.  A whacking 10%, but care needed as “Imperial” is easy to drink.      

Bitterness:    3

Sweetness:   4

Score:          5 (wonderful.  IS wonderful, despite my taste analysis!)

MT12007

Shepherd Neame, Spitfire, 4.5% - bottle

Appearance:  Amber.  Sparse, short-lived and large-bubbled head. 

Smell:          Caramel and fruit. 

Taste:          Beer (I DID say . . .) and fruit. 

Impressions: Refreshing, with a dry finish.       

Bitterness:    3

Sweetness:   2

Score:          3 (okay)

MT12008

Greene King, IPA Export, 5.0% - bottled

Appearance;  Amber, short-lived head.

Smell:          Caramel. 

Taste:          Caramel, liquorice, sweet to start, then bitter.   

Impressions: Smooth, good body, quite a long bitter finish, but not intense.  

Bitterness:    2

Sweetness:   2

Score:          3 (okay)