News, Nuggets & Longreads 31 December 2016: Kids, Krakow and Koelschips

Beer pumps at the Taphouse, Newton Abbot, w. date overlaid as text.

We took last week off for obvious reasons so here’s everything in the world of beer and pubs that got us thinking or smiling in the past fourteen days.

First, a bit of news that got rather lost in the fuss around Christmas: Heineken has taken over a large chunk of pub company Punch’s estate, as reflected upon by the Pub Curmudgeon:

The Beer Orders were revoked in 2003, so since then there was been nothing to prevent the major international brewers rebuilding tied estates in the UK. However, the dire state of pub company finances has probably put them off until now. Heineken retained the rump of the former Scottish & Newcastle pub operation under the banner of Star Pubs and Bars, and so were always the best placed to make a move. Selling out to a brewer with deep pockets is probably going to be the best exit strategy for long-suffering pubco investors.


A baby in the pub.

Here’s one to bookmark if you have kids, or friends with kids — a practical guide, both general and specific, to child-friendly pubs in East London, from the ever-thoughtful Bearded Housewife:

Sometimes it’s just not appropriate, for the feel of the pub as much as anything, to have kids there. For instance, I once had a bit of time to kill in central London and tried to take the progeny into the Harp, near Covent Garden. As I attempted to wrestle the buggy back out the narrow door after being politely rebuffed by the staff, I wondered what I’d been thinking. It’s hard to elucidate clearly why exactly this would have been a bad idea, but children in a pub like the Harp is an incongruous conjunction, like a rave in a library, not bad in the sense of wrong, or selfish, or unjust, but rather more like an uncomfortable juxtaposition.

(See also this post on ‘The New East London Pub Crawl’ from Rebecca Pate.)


Weathered wood with cyrillic text: KBAC.

Via Zach Fowle for Draft magazine the obscure semi-beer kvass rears its ugly head once again — will 2017 finally be the year our terrible prediction that it’s The Next Big Thing comes good?

To make their kvass, Scratch’s brewers soak toasted leftover loaves in hot water overnight. In the morning, the liquid is separated from the soggy bread, moved into a mash tun and combined with standard brewing malt (unlike most historical versions). From there, it’s treated like a typical beer, though brewers don’t add hops and they ferment the wort with the same sourdough yeast culture used in Scratch’s bread.


Various books and magazine from the last 40+ years of CAMRA.

On Twitter John West has given some bloggers a nudge: where’s the commentary on CAMRA’s Revitalisation report? We haven’t got round to it yet, partly because of weariness with the subject and the lack of anything much new to say, but Jeff Alworth, who has been observing British and world beer for years, brings an outsider’s perspective:

Beer has become something like a sacred beverage to people all over the globe. And of course, any time you have something sacred, it means there’s a vast world out there of the profane. Beer must be made and consumed in a particular way. To do anything else violates this sense of the sacred. This dichotomy doesn’t emerge arbitrarily, though. Sacred things are those which protect and nurture the group; profane ones endanger it. In the case of cask ale, CAMRA issued an edict about the nature of British beer. They did this to create a very clear inner circle of protection: this is the thing we’re talking about, and these are the things that endanger it.

(The exchange between Jeff and Nick in the comments is also worth your attention.)


A beer menu in Krakow.

Martin Taylor reports from Krakow where craft beer is fast becoming ‘a thing’. This especially caught our eye because, for one reason or another, we spent a fair bit of time in Krakow between 2000-2003, before we were especially into beer, and remember when C.K. Browar was the cool place in town — the equivalent of Mash in London, we guess.


Here’s some serious historic brewing from Ron Pattinson: a recipe for a Truman’s 1917 Government Ale, AKA Lloyd George’s Beer, which Ron observes was actually somewhat improved by rationing as its malt content was boosted in lieu of hard-to-get sugar.


Mark Tranter

Here’s one that we probably should have included in our last round-up but somehow missed in the early morning bleurgh when these things are mostly put together: an interview with Mark Tranter of Burning Sky by James Beeson for Beeson on Beer. It’s interesting primarily because it contains a genuine scoop about a development which Chris Hall, among others, has suggested is a defining moment in British brewing:

‘When’s this piece going out again?’ He asks, pausing as if weighing up a decision in his head, ‘Oh, and we’re installing a coolship in Janaury.’ Exhaling deeply, he leans back in the rickety wooden chair on which he is sitting. ‘That’s the first time I’ve told anyone that.’


Finally, here’s an image to enjoy, via @iamreddave:

7 thoughts on “News, Nuggets & Longreads 31 December 2016: Kids, Krakow and Koelschips”

  1. I expect lots of deabte about coolships next year. What are they? What is the correct name in the English language? For the moment, I’m totally confused and keeping my head down.

  2. The Heineken/Punch thing rather came out of the blue and didn’t fit comfortably into any of the usual narratives, which is maybe why there hasn’t been that much comment about it. I know Tandleman was distinctly sceptical, whereas on balance I would see it as a positive development.

    I also did a poll on the subject which recorded an 84% preference for Heineken over Punch.

  3. (puts tin hat on) It’s called a cooler in English, not a “coolship”, which is simply a calque of the Dutch koeleschip or German Kühlschiff, literally “cooling vessel”. Since we don’t use the word “ship” in English to mean “vessel” (although we do use “vessel to mean “ship”), it’s nonsense to use a literal but completely unidiomatic translation from another language as the name for something which already has a perfectly fine native English name, and one in use for hundreds of years.

  4. The problem with the anti-coolship argument is that the word doesn’t exist outside of English. English absorbs. It’s lovely like that.

  5. Interestingly, there used to be “coolships” at St James’s Gate. They were known in the brewery as Sky Coolers, because they were hung up way above head height. They weren’t used for fermentation, just to cool wort (though some kind of inoculation may have occurred). We’re talking mid to late 19th century I believe.

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