I know what you're thinking: this is not a city for lovers of beer, and in some respects you'd be correct. You won't find any cask ale here and for the most part the beer on offer is very bland and very cold, but happily the beer consumed in Barcelona, particularly in the heat of an August afternoon hits the spot nicely. You hardly find yourself drinking for gastronomic reasons, more as a means to stay alive, lest thirst and heatstroke kill you. Perhaps I'm being a little melodramatic, but ice cold beer in these conditions really does offer a revival to a body past its thermal comfort zone.
Our hotel was in the Exiample quarter of town, and area north of the old town and built after the old town burst through the city walls during a period of rapid expansion. Exiample sits in stark contrast to its older neighbourhood; a strict grid like lay out of smaller streets c
rossing larger avenues similar to New York makes for easy navigation, while the Barra Gotic and La Ribera of the old town are a confusing, seemingly random network of small streets that once sat within the old city walls, and savagely bisected by the relentlessly busy La Ramblas. As it turned out the Eixample proved to be an excellent location for beer bars, or 'cervecerias'. The Pilsner Urquell boards outside
Mengi Mengi drew us in while out for a stroll after dinner on our first night. Along with quality Czech lager on tap, the bar sported a number of beer fridges stocking a solid if unspectacular selection of beer from Germany and Belgium as well as some Argentinian Quilmes Lager, which I tried for the first time. The Pilsner Urquell came served in a glass from the freezer and, unsurprisingly was very cold indeed. Luckily this lager still gives plenty of flavour at that temperature and it went down very nicely.
Lunch for us generally meant tapas. There are many places around the city to try it, but once again our hotel proved to be right next to one of the best tapas bars in town that also just happened to have a decent beer menu.
Cervesia Catalan is a very busy spot, but thankfully our custom of eating quite a bit earlier than the locals meant that getting a table was straight forward. It appeared to be some
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thing of an extreme sport later in the evenings when the locals emerged from their labours for a spot of supper. Walls lined with beer bottles surround diners, and good selection is offered on the menu. Standard Spanish lager is available on tap, which I washed down some omelet and potatoes with. I followed this with some Timmerman's Kreik - a mistake I realised too late. Timmerman's appear to be one of the many Belgian brewers out there making a very good living from putting E numbers and fruit syrups into weak lambic, not to mention an unhealthy dose of artificial sweetener. Nasty stuff and a lesson learned. After lunch we exploited the most civilised of Mediterranean traditions - the siesta, a healthy dose of tapas and cold beer aids this no end.
Two minutes west of the Placa de Catalunya will find you in the incongruous medieval hard wood and wrought iron interior of
Alt Heidelberg, a German bar serving a decent selection of beer nicely complemented with tasty German fare and traditional local tapas. Once again P
ilsner Urquell is the main beer available on tap - a little confusing because the aged menu suggested that other beers are available. The same thing occurred in Mengi Mengi, where the menu would have you believe that Spaten is on draught, but a request for draught beer will get you Pilsner Urquell. It seems that SAB Miller have muscled into the better beer bars and forced all other producers, except for the Spanish macros, from the bar. Confusingly the menus are often not updated, and the waiters will not inform you that the beer you think you are ordering isn't in fact on offer. The highlight of this visit for me was some Samuel Smith's Taddy Porter. It was all brown sugar and treacle, the ordering of which raised a smirk from the waiter who I am sure thought I had taken pot luck from a Spanish language beer menu and didn't realise what I was letting myself in for. I washed down some excellent sauerkraut and bratwurst with the porter and topped it off with a sweet and refreshing Lindeman's Peche - which raised yet another smirk from the waiter.
Our last evening found us enjoying after dinner drinks in
D'Or, yet another bar with a respectable beer selection only minutes from our hotel. Large ornate German beer fonts on the tables immediately alert you to the possibility of a decent pint, but it was the more obscure Catalan beers from
Cerevesera del M
ontseny that caught my attention. Nonchalantly dropped in among a list of European beers of note was
Lupulus. Thankfully my extensive knowledge of Latin meant that this beer did not slip by and I was rewarded with a healthy dose of American C hops more intense than I ever dreamed of from a Spanish beer, and on top this delight it was bottle conditioned to boot. It was a little soup like but really delivered. Happy with this find I opted for another beer from Cerevesera del Montseny, this time their dark beer described as 'cervesa negra Irlandesa', so it was not hard to see what they were driving at. Unsurprisingly it didn't quite hit the mark, resembling a thin, weaker English stout rather than the fuller Irish interpretation. Once again a funny look met my request for this dark beer. Spanish waiters seem concerned that a punter will, heaven forbid, stumble into a dark beer. This is ice cold lager country after all. A curious thing, but it's nice to know that the waiters have the beer novice's well being at heart.
I haven't brewed nearly enough over the last few months. It was time to remedy this with a bang, so last weekend I planned to brew an American IPA. It got away from me a bit thanks to some overly zealous hopping (is that possible in an American IPA?) and a better than expected extraction of sugar from the mash.
I gave my mash tun a serious workout and it held up admirably. Once again I treated my water, bring the calcium up to around 160 ppm through additions of calcium sulphate and calcium chloride. I rid myself of around 130 ppm of pesky alkalinity using carbonate reducing solution and everything went very well indeed. I planned for 75% efficiency and an OG of 1.070, but achieved about 80% and ended up with 1.078. Very gratifying but the fact that my last runnings came in at 1.030 indicates that I just can't get the damn fermentable sugar out of the mash tun. The chemistry was perfect; the temperature held at 66 C and pH fell in a spot on 5.4, but the damn grain held on to the sugar. Not to worry. I'm not a penny pincher and have no problem dumping the grain. Perhaps in future I'll do some small beer.
I knew when I read the back label on the bottle of St Austell's Proper Job I had tried the beer before. The front label tells us that it is 'powerfully hopped', but in general, unless it's BrewDog telling me that, I tend to ignore it, knowing that my idea of powerfully hopped and the average British brewer's idea are two quite distinct things. A further study of the label makes for very interesting reading; Willamette, Chinook and Cascade are listed as the hops employed and it is at this point that punters might have reason to think they have something quite special on their hands. As it turns out this ale is powerfully hopped in a very satisfying manner. Frankly, for a British bottled ale it is astounding, full of hop flavour and resins all wrapped around a satisfying malt base. I could drink this stuff all day, but at 5.5% abv it would take its toll.
The weekend found me visiting the English suburbs of my early childhood for my Grandad's ninetieth birthday. We had a get together involving four generations of my father's side of the family, something that really drives home just how old my grandfather is. He was born in 1919 and spent all his life in the historical town of Egham, except for a stint in the army which found him carrying a Bren gun around the deserts of Africa. That's him on the right in the 1940's, in uniform enjoying a pint of something dark, more than likely Guinness.
