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Beer history

The mystery of avens in ‘Augsburg Ale’

The peril of being a beer geek is that even unconnected questions can take you down a beer-related rabbit hole.

We were sitting in our makeshift beer garden, drinking Jever and Augustiner, when Ray said: “What’s that flower?” It was a somewhat attractive weed that Jess was allowing to grow in one of the wilder corners.

She looked it up and identified it as wood avens, AKA herb bennet (Geum urbanum). She then read the Wikipedia entry and was intrigued by the following section:

The roots contain the compound eugenol which is also present in cloves and are used as a spice in soups and also for flavouring ale. For example, the Augsburg Ale is said to owe its peculiar flavour to the addition of a small bag of avens inside each cask.

This is referenced to A Modern Herbal, a 1931 book by Maud or Margaret Grieve, available and searchable as website.

In fact, the Wikipedia page is pretty much a direct quote from that book, with no further hints as to who “is said to” have said it.

An earlier herbal reference, Nicholas Culpeper’s The Complete Herbal from the 17th century, also available and searchable online, makes reference to the clove character of avens.

It also says it has for a range of health benefits and as an additive to wine, giving it “a delicate savour and taste”.

Martyn ‘Zythophile’ Cornell wrote an extensive piece on herbs in ale in Britain which references avens a few times, including in a recipe from 1430. And there is more in his excellent book, Amber, Gold and Black.

So there’s evidence to back up the use of Avens in beer. But what we remained baffled by is why a British book written in 1931 references Augsburg Ale. Why not use an example from closer to home?

Andreas Krennmair is an expert in German historic brewing and we checked the comprehensive index to his Bavarian Brewing in the 19th Century: a reference guide. It contains a few references to Augsburg Ale including a statement from one 1834 source that says it gained its unusual flavour from the practice of pouring beer into the casks when the pitch was still hot.

Then we emailed him to aske whether he had heard of the use of avens in brewing in Augsburg and he kindly sent us a detailed response with a few sources and suggestions:

Christian Heinrich Schmidt’s 1853 book Grundsätze der Bierbrauerei makes a very brief mention that Geum urbanum is allegedly used in large amounts in the famous Augsburg beer. It also describes how Geum urbanum is used: the dried roots are cut up, put into a fine linen bag, and hung into the cask.

If I had to guess, I’d say that that’s quite likely the source of that claim of Geum urbanum being used in Augsburg beer. But the way it’s formulated is so vague, it’s probably something the author had only heard about but had never seen any confirmation for.

We still don’t know why Mrs Grieve would choose to reference Augsburg Ale, particularly as use of herbs in the beer would, we think, be unusual almost everywhere by the late 19th century.

The next thing to ask is… has anyone brewed with avens recently? Or fancy giving it a go?

Because we know where to find some.

Main image: Geum urbanum adapted from a photograph by Neuchâtel Herbarium at Wikimedia Commons under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported licence.

Categories
beer reviews bottled beer

Yarrow, Alecost and Nightmares

Old illustration of yarrow leaves.
Yarrow leaves. SOURCE: Köhler’s Medicinal Plants, 1887, via Biodeversity Library.

I’m all about Harvey’s at the moment. It’s all I wanted to drink in London the other week, and about all I’m interested in drinking now we’re back in Penzance.

Last night, I pulled something of theirs from the back of the stash that, somehow, I’ve never got round to tasting before even though we got several bottles as part of a mixed case last year: Priory Ale.

This beer isn’t on sale anymore but think of this as general commentary on beer with weird herbs rather than as a review and it might have some use.

It’s 6% — a bit indulgent for a school night but not madly so — but the kick is in the small print. It was released in 2014 to mark the 750th anniversary of the Battle of Lewes and was ‘brewed using ingredients that were available to the Cluniac Order at the Priory of St. Pancras in 1264’. The mash included barley, oats and wheat and it was boiled with both hops and yarrow. It was then dry-herbed with alecost, rosemary and thyme during fermentation.

I can’t lie — on reading the blurb, my first thought was, ‘Uh-oh.’ Thyme and rosemary don’t really work in beer, or at least I haven’t yet acquired the taste, making everything a seem bit sickly and savoury.

On tasting it, my first thought was of medicinal shampoo, then of cough sweets, which I guess must mean some memory of menthol firing in my brain. Alecost is sometimes known by the name ‘Mary’s mint’ or variations thereon so perhaps that’s what I was picking up? The rosemary and thyme rose up as the beer went on, overriding everything by the end, like some kind of cotton bag you might hang in a wardrobe to give your bonnets a pleasant fragraunce. Or a leg of lamb.

Most disappointingly from my point of view, it lacked that distinctive Harvey’s character on which I am hooked.

It was not a relaxing beer. Being kind, I’d say it was stimulating, but maybe nerve-jangling is more honest. It put me on edge. ‘I think this is going to give me nightmares,’ I said on turning in.

And do you know, something certainly did.