Board games, beers, Blimp, and a Bavarian tale make for a nostalgic chronicle of Christmas.
Making an ale that may require as long as a decade to reach its peak causes a brewer to mull over more than just the way a beer is put together. Thinking in decades makes the ageing of a beer analogous with the ageing of a man.
How much art can 113 million bottles of Orval buy? Why is Achel Bruin so undervalued? And why should Brasserie Cantillon read Richard Cantillon's "Essai"?
Were brewers to be divided up into “tweakers” and “experimenters”, I would certainly find myself categorised as an experimenter. But I have been tweaking lately... and learning about the ageing of essential-oil components in hops.
How catching the opening hours of Bristol Beer Week and walking across the Clifton Suspension Bridge got me thinking about French beer.
Bamberg, with eight breweries in its centre and dozens peppering the surrounding region, lives and breathes beer as if it were air. And that air carries the meaty aroma of beechwood smoke.
As the autumn equinox passes and the nights draw in, thoughts turn to Christmas ale, spice in beer, and the spice of life.
Wondering why Munich isn’t awash with Mango-Juice Double IPA, Espresso Coffee and Vanilla Stout, or Arugula Brett-Spiked Saison, is like complaining that the Italian Alps don’t look like the Cotswolds, or that the Vietnamese don’t eat roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.
With the Oktoberfest on the horizon, I consider the birth of Mӓrzen and Hell at the festival, explore Munich beer offerings away from the Theresienwiese, and pay tribute to Georg Schneider, patron saint of Weiβbier.
The Reichsparteitage schedule of drinking, communal singing, political speeches and celebration of the Volksgemeinschaft was an amplified version of an evening in Munich’s beerhalls in the 1920s and 30s.