Why do we Call a Half-Pint of Beer a 'Glass of Beer' in Ireland?

One of things that is often remarked upon in tourist guides to the pubs of Ireland is the peculiar quirk of asking for ‘a glass’ in this country when you want a half-pint of any beverage. This is something that most of us grew up with and never really questioned, although if you do think about it, it does seem strange to use this term when both pints and half-pints are served in glassware here, and have been for many years. So where did this term come from and why do we still use it?

To try an answer this question we need to wander across the Irish Sea and take a look at a few references to glasses, half-pints and debates about what actually constituted a ‘glass’ of beer in England in the past.

For example, The Weekly Chronicle (London) from April 1839 mentions in some medical notes on treatments that ‘A glass of ale (half a pint) per deim, be taken’ for a complaint, and although that ‘half a pint’ in brackets could be explaining the glass size required it could also be seen to describe the volume of a glass of ale.

A few decades later the Lancaster Guardian of May 1861 carries a report on short measures in Lancaster and neighbourhood with regard to the use of ‘glasses, earthenware mugs and other vessels.' It suggests that the use of a short measure for a half pint by using a smaller than half-pint glass was rife and pointed to the fact that glass wholesalers stocked large amounts of these smaller glasses for publicans’ use. The writer asks the question ‘Does a glass of ale mean half a pint, or is the former an arbitrary measure? It does not seem possible that there can be much doubt upon this point.’ This seems to imply that at least some of the population expected to receive a half-pint when they asked for a glass.

In August that same year, and also in the Lancaster Guardian, the landlord of the King’s Arms in Morecambe was summoned for ‘selling a glass of ale short of half a pint in measure’ perhaps again implying that a glass implies a half pint but if not it certainly highlights the use of a smaller measure.

In the Oxford Chronicle and Reading Gazette in May 1867 the question ‘”Is a Glass a Measure?”’ was asked and again the content revolves around a court case of a landlord using glasses that did not hold a half pint, for which he was convicted and was then appealing. It was reported that ‘customers had said, “Of course we expect half a pint,” while others said, “A glass and half a pint are the same.”’ and it was also stated by the prosecutors that ‘when a person asked for a glass of ale, it was generally, but not universally, understood, that they expected half a pint.’ The conviction was quashed as it could not be completely proved that those asking for a glass of ale all expected to get a half pint, even though the content of the article suggests that most customers would expect such a measure

In The Halesworth Times and East Suffolk Advertiser in March 1870 a contributor asks, ‘Should a Glass of Ale be Half a Pint.’ This is regarding another court case involving three public houses in Wymondham. Seemingly it was customary in that town for a glass not to be a half-pint but clearly it was expected by those who enforced the law that a glass did mean a half pint, although the case was dismissed.

A few years later, the Liverpool Weekly Courier of February 1873 carries a report on sizes of publicans' glasses and states that ‘a “glass” is an unknown quantity, except so far as custom recognises it as the eight of a pint of spirits, or an equivalent for a half-pint in the case of beer.’ and also ‘As a rule, persons who ask for a “glass” of ale mean “half a pint,” looking upon the terms as equivalents.’ 

Jumping forward some years, The Leominster News and North West Herefordshire & Radnorshire Advertiser in November 1910 highlights the  debate of what is a glass of beer and what is a half pint issue in another legal case and the defence came to the conclusion ‘that it was one of those cases where it might be said that the law was an ass.’ and implies that it was only an offence to serve an actual half-pint in an unverified half-pint glass but that if less than a half-pint was served in any size of glass, providing the customer just asked for ‘a glass’, than that was deemed okay. A similar case was also heard in 1930 in Morecambe - the legality around this custom seems a little dubious …

Even as late as 1947 a writeup in the Nottingham Evening Post in July of that year it was raised as a topic in that city’s council, and the blame for a short measure was put on the customer ‘for not asking what he wanted. If he asked for a glass he would get a glass, but if he asked for a half-pint the licensee was supposed to serve it in an imperial half-pint stamped measure.’ Although it was decided that the case and legalities would ideed need to be investigated.

There are many more mentions of this irregularity in English papers over that whole period too but there appears to be no real consensus as to what a ‘glass’ really meant as you can see, with contradictions coming from all sides of the argument - the customer, the publican and the authorities. Some of these references seem to imply that there was in certain locations a size called a glass of beer and that this was known to be less than a half pint. Although it also appears quite common that the customer may have assumed a glass was a half pint but the publicans believed a glass to be less than that, or perhaps was being a bit cheeky with their perception of what the term actually meant in order to suit themselves and their pockets, or perhaps to suit the pockets of their customers if they were selling a measure on price and not volume regardless of the legalities of such practice.

And perhaps due to all of this confusion - and how much it was widely reported in many papers - the customer changed their terminology for clarity and started to call for ‘a half’ instead of ‘a glass’? Is this how the term died out across the sea from us? (Although comments on my timeline when I mooted writing this article suggests that it still might exist in certain areas as a term for a half-pint or did until quite recently.) It is certainly interesting that it was originally so common-place over there.

So what is the connection with all of this and its continued use in Ireland is probably what many of ye are thinking? That is indeed a good question - and one I am not entirely sure I have gotten close to a definitive answer but I will let you know my thoughts on the subject - and there area couple of hints in the wording used in this paragraph.

But first, what about references like those above in Irish newspapers and publications? Well, those are quite scarce…

Up north we have a writer from Sydney to The Northern Whig in November 1886 on the drinking customs of Australians says the following, ‘There are no half-ones here. “A glass” means a glass of beer. A modest quencher of the “half-one” kind would be wholly misunderstood in Sydney, unless, perchance, the assistant behind the counter came from the North of Ireland, and recognised the old measure of his early days.’ This implies that the term was common before this date at least in this island.

Down south The Irish Times from November 1873 carries an advertisement for the bottlers John Bebe & Co. which mentions a report in the Medical Press and Circular from 1869 that uses the term ‘a glass of porter (1/2 pint)’ that could be taken to imply that a glass was known as a half-pint at this time here, although I am pretty sure that the medical publication referenced is English so it probably is meaningless in more ways than one.

There are just a few reports of the controversies and cases that happened over in England and there are no mentions that I can find of similar issues here. That could mean that ‘a glass’ was taken to mean a half-pint here, or that drinkers did not care, or that the term was not in use here at all! There are mentions of glasses of drink generally but I could find no proper references as to what the term implied here in the past - if anything.

But then again we never really get over exited about sizes here, as my posts on bottle sizes and the famous ‘Meejum’ have shown, although as you can see the issues with those sizes were well recorded and reported whereas any issues with a glass as a unit of measurement are not mentioned as far as I can see.

So this leads me to perhaps believe that we inherited the meaning for ‘a glass’ meaning half a pint from England at some point and that here it did not change into something less than that, leading to confusion and public exposure as it did in England. For this and probably various other reasons it just clung on here in the same way we still use ‘gotten’ or ‘ye’ - or at least some of us do - even though those words have fallen out of favour over there.

All of this is pure conjecture of course, but it seems like a reasonable premise; that the term glass fell out of use in England due to under-served customers and over-zealous regulators, issues that we didn’t have over here to instigate a change in terminology.

Another factor more common to Ireland and which might have some bearing on the issue is our dependence in much of the country in the past on the bottle of beer in public houses, which meant that as long as that bottle was the correct size then the volume of the glass did not matter quite so much, and when kegged beer became more commonplace then maybe the word ‘glass’ for a half pint that had clung on without much controversy became more important, used and indeed useful.

It might also be worth noting that this period in the sixties and seventies where kegged beers became more ubiquitous coincided with the use here of pint glass tankards, and although there were also half-pint tankards it is possible that those who required a half pint wanted it in a glass and not in an undersized tankard - many of which do seem a little odd to drink out of in truth - and so the term had a rebirth. There could be an argument made that it was actually in this period that ‘a glass’ became a meaning for a half-pint and everything I have posted up to this point is meaningless! Could it be that recent?

I would be okay with that too, as I do feel there is more to the story than the suggestions I have put across here …

Liam

All written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its source, and a link back to this post.

Food History: Breaking Bread - A Lost Custom in Ireland?

Food history is not a topic I write about much but it is certainly something that interests me, and occasionally I come across a story or reference that is intriguing enough to want me to share it to a wider audience.

A little while back I came across an article from January 1852 with wonderful images in the Illustrated London News regarding an old baking custom in Ireland that for the most part seems to have disappeared, apart from the odd mention in lists of traditions from around the festive period or the occasional reference to something vaguely similar that people still do spotted on social media or elsewhere.

Instead of waffling on about it too much here I will just transcribe the article for you to make of what you will from it, or use as a reference point if you ever spot it being mentioned or hear about it in other circumstances.

The Baking and Breaking of the New Year’s Eve Cake - A Christmas Custom in Ireland

(From a Correspondent)

This fine old festival, whose origin is lost amidst the Pagan darkness that surrounds so many of the customs of this country, and yet rendered dear to its inhabitants by the joyous association of childhood, like the many other, is now passing away not only from the practice, but also from the recollection, of the people; yet they delight to talk of those times when the worthy good man, either in ‘the big house’ or ‘comfortable homestead’ made known to his cherished friends and humble dependents that the ‘lady of the house’ or ‘the good woman’ was to have her New Year's Eve cake; And the sly invitation was sure to gather all who cherished genuine wit and humour to witness the making of the cake - that important portion of the meal - to enjoy the drollery of him and her installed as high priest and to stage the requisite incantations to secure the success of the charmed cake. This, having been once fairly placed on the griddle (in those days our forefathers knew little of the oven for such uses), became an object of interest more than one, and many were the sly coleens who, when the lad of her choice placed in the fire a sprig of the still verdant holly or Ivy that decorated the kitchen, would adroitly steal in another little sprig to the blazing pile, to see if her fortune burned and kept pace with his; if it did so, (like the burnt nuts of All-Hallows eve) a smooth current of happiness for the coming year was indicated.

Those were, indeed, days of simplicity, when the Baron and the peasant met alike under the same roof; when even the humble itinerant fiddler who played his way through the country was expected to witness the next aspirant to manhood lay hold of the well-made and substantial cake, and, with his mimic strength, dash against the door, when it was shivered to pieces, while the assembled witnesses of the scene offered up in spirit an humbled but fervent prayer that cold, want, or hunger might not enter that door for the ensuing year. The fragments of the cake were then scrambled for, and certain was he or she who succeeded in securing the first fragment that touched the ground, that they, too, would have a home and a New Year's Cake ere the next year was out.

To this succeeded a scene of romping, eating and drinking, dancing and singing, such as can only be witnessed in Ireland; And the mirth continues up to the hour that marks our passage from one year into another, when a fervent prayer is offered up to Him who has brought us thus to a new year, and enabled us to see the light of another.

We recollect, when a schoolboy, thinking with delight over our promised enjoyment of a New Year's Cake, and of all our school fellows having the same promise of enjoyment held out to them; whereas we believe that the practice is now only carried out in the more comfortable and wealthy homes of the South and Midland counties of poor old Ireland.

It is a tradition that was certainly lost to me until recently - and there are another couple in there too regarding the burning of holly and nuts. The wording is a bit difficult in places to our modern ears given the language, grammar, and syntax of the middle of the 19th century but I am sure you get the gist of the tradition; the baking of bread/cake in a griddle pan, and it then being smashed against the door by a son in the household for luck, with an extra dose of fortune for the person who got the first piece to hit the ground.

Anyone up for it?

Liam

All written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its source, and a link back to this post.

Newspaper images are © The British Library Board - All rights reserved. With thanks to The British Newspaper Archive (www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk) from whom I have received permission to display these images on this site.

Mixing your Festive Drinks? Part II - More Christmas Cups ...

In yesterday's post I focussed on beer-related wintery drink mixes or 'cups', but in this one I'll mix in some other non-beer recipes. Some of these will be familiar to some of you although the ingredients and process does vary with time and author so they may not match your own versions or other you have read. All are listed in Oswald Atherton 'Mac' Fleming's 'Gourmet's Book of Food and Drink' published in 1933.

As mentioned in the last piece, some of the ingredients might be hard - or even impossible - to get so some substitution may be required. I have left the recipes in Imperial measures so some conversion may also be required. please note I have paraphrased some of the recipes to make them slightly clearer but left most of the ingredients as stated. Some quantities are for sharing and may need to be decreased as you will see, please act responsibly!

Auld Man’s Milk

Heat a pint of Scotch Ale with a ¼ ounce of cinnamon stick, ¼ ounce of ginger and a ¼ ounce of nutmeg; beat the yolks of two eggs with a little brown sugar and pour the ale mix on top and stir, then add a measure of whisky.

Rumfustian

Heat up a ½ bottle of sherry in a saucepan and add ¼ ounce of bruised cinnamon, ¼ grated nutmeg, 3 bruised cardamom seeds, 2 ounces of sugar and the thin rind of a lemon; whisk up the yolks of 3 eggs with a pint of ale and a pint of gin and pour the strained sherry into the mix while stirring.

Egg Flip

Heat a quart of good ale; beat the yolks of six eggs with ½ a nutmeg and ½ a pound of sugar with a wineglass of whisky or gin; skim the froth from the ale into this mixture and just before it boils pour all the ale into the mix slowly and while stirring.

Lamb’s Wool

Roast eight apples, mash them and add to a quart of old ale, press and strain; add ginger and nutmeg and sweeten to taste.

Hot Spiced Ale

Heat a quart of good ale and add ½ a grated nutmeg; beat two eggs with a little cold ale and add the hot ale while stirring; add a piece of butter and serve with dry toast.

‘Tween Deck Cup

Put ½ dozen cloves in a pint of rum with a little ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg and strain after one hour; add an equal quantity of lime juice and 2 quarts of bottled ale.

Bishop a la Cutler

Beat the yolks of two eggs and add a ½ pint of boiling milk followed by a pint of whisky, stirring constantly; sweeten to taste and add a little nutmeg and cloves

Beadle

Pound a ¼ ounce of cinnamon, four cloves and a ½ ounce of ginger together and add to ¼ pound of sugar and a pint of boiling water, then strain; add the mix to the yolks of two eggs, whisking constantly then add a glass of raisin wine and six glasses of ginger wine; serve immediately.

Sleeper

Boil six cloves, ¼ ounce of cinnamon stick, eight coriander seeds and 1 ½ ounces of sugar in a ½ pint of water; strain the mixture and add the juice of ½ a lemon and a ¼ pint of old rum; add the mixture gradually to two egg yolk, whisking as you do; serve immediately.

Baltimore Egg-Nogg

Beat the yolks of three eggs with a ¼ of a grated nutmeg and two ounces of sugar, then add ½ a gill of brandy or rum and a glass of marsala or brown sherry; mix in the whisked whites of the eggs followed by a gill of cream and a pint of milk.

Excellent Negus

Warm a bottle of sherry or port in a saucepan and add 2 ½ pints of water, the juice of one lemon and a little of the peel rubbed in sugar, grated nutmeg, and sugar to taste - followed by one drop of essence of ambergris[!] and ten drops of vanilla essence.

Apple Toddy

Put a baked apple in a heat-proof glass and add one ounce of fine sugar, one gill of brandy, ½ a pint of boiling cider; grate some ginger on top of the mix and add a piece of lemon peel.

So, there's another collect for you to experiment with, just watch those alcohol quantities, and drink cleverly. As with those in my last post I haven't actually tried any of these yet so I have no idea if they actually work or taste any good!

Liam

Gourmet’s Book of Food and Drink by Oswald Atherton Fleming with illustrations by William M. Hendy was published in 1933 by John Lane, The Bodley Head Ltd. in London and printed by Western Printing Services Ltd, Bristol, England. It is dedicated to his wife, ‘Who can make an omelette’ …

All written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its original source, and a link back to this post.

Mixing your Festive Drinks? Here are Some Christmas Cups ...

Over the last few years I seem to have accidentally - or perhaps incidentally - amassed an odd collection of drink and cookery-related books, and of these one of my favourites is 'Gourmet's Book of Food and Drink' published anonymously by an enigmatic Scottish journalist called Oswald Atherton 'Mac' Fleming in 1933 with illustrations by William M. Hendy. It’s a very readable volume and contains recipes, memoirs and much idle banter including excerpts from columns he wrote in the London Evening News and also the Sunday Chronicle. Unsurprisingly there is very little Irish content in its pages but it is still an interesting and curious book - and there is a very vague Irish connection in so far as Fleming was married to Dorothy L. Sayers who worked on the Guinness marketing campaign with John Gilroy, and according to some sources even came up with the now famous toucan idea.

In the book Fleming includes a few chapters solely on drinks and what may be of interest at this time of the year are the various recipes for mixed drinks - ‘cups’ - that he has gathered together in two chapters, and given the season I thought it might be a good time to transcribe them here so that perhaps some of you might experiment over the next few festive weeks.

There are over two hundred ‘cup’ recipes in the book covering all manner of alcohol and perhaps half that amount again in punch recipes, but given my interests I will just focus on some of the beer-related ones here.

Before get started I must quote Mr. Fleming and state that ‘ale and beer cups should be made with good sound ale, and drunk from a tankard; being more palatable and presentable in this way than in glasses’, and I wholeheartedly agree.

I will just include the more wintery sounding ones for now, with any ice being very optional. Some of the beers and ingredients might be hard - or even impossible - to get so some substitution may be required. I have left the recipes in Imperial measures so some conversion may also be required. please note I have paraphrased some of the recipes to make them slightly clearer but left most of the ingredients as stated. Some quantities are for sharing and may need to be decreased as you will see, please act responsibly!

Cambridge Ale Cup
Boil 3 pints of water with an ounce each of cloves, cinnamon, mace (all bruised together) for an hour and strain; add 3 ounces of fine sugar with the juice and thin peel of a lemon with 3 pints of good ‘college’ ale and ½ pint of sherry; heat before serving with a thin slice of toast sprinkled with nutmeg.

Jehu’s Nectar
Grate a little ginger into a small glass of gin-and-bitters and pour into a pint of heated good ale, this should be drunk while frothing.

Councillor’s Cup
Rub the rind of two oranges with sugar and steep in a half pint of brandy, then add the juice of one lemon and a ½ pint of orange juice. (Here the recipes states to add a pint of water but I’d suggest a pint of red ale and serve hot, sweetened to taste.)

Porter Cup
Mix ½ a grated nutmeg with a wineglass of sherry and strain after 15 minutes; add to a half a bottle of Claret and a bottle of porter and serve in a jug with a slice of cucumber and a large lump of ice.

Hot Cup
Warm a pint of good ale and add an ounce of sugar, and an ounce of mixed spice plus a glass of sherry; when nearly boiling pour it on a round of buttered toast.

Copus Cup
Roast a lemon full of cloves before a fire until it is dark brown; mix up a quarter pint of brandy, the same of noyeau [French liqueur noyau?] then add a half a stick of cinnamon; put a slice of toast in a bowl and add the lemon on top of it a gently squeeze it; add 4 ounces of fine sugar and two quarts of hot old ale and the spirit mix, leave for 15 minutes and serve.

Ale Cup
Mix a half ounce each of nutmeg, ginger, and cinnamon with 3 ounces of brown sugar and beat with the yolk of three eggs; warm a half a gallon of good ale and a half pint of gin and pour into the mix whisking it all together; drink immediately while it is still frothing.

Freemason’s Cup
Mix a pint of Scotch ale, a pint of mild beer, ½ a pint of brandy and a pint of sherry with a ½ pound of sugar-candy and a little grated nutmeg to taste. can be served hot or cold.

Purl or Early Birds
Heat a quart of ale with a tablespoon of ginger and nutmeg; whisk in a gill of cold ale and 2 ounces of sugar with three fresh eggs; when frothy add the warm ale slowly, with a glass of spirits and drink immediately.

Aleberry
Mix 3 spoonful [No size given] of fine oatmeal with a quart of old ale then boil the mix and sweeten; add the juice of one lemon, ½ a grated nutmeg, a little ginger powder, and a half a pint of wine; float a slice of toast on top before serving.

Ale Posset
Add a round of buttered toast to a quart of old ale; add grated nutmeg to the toast and a little sugar, then one pint(!) of sherry and serve hot.

Sir Walter Raleigh’s Ale Posset
Mix a ½ pint of dry white sherry with a ½ pint of good ale; add a quart of boiled cream that has been flavoured with spices and strain through a fine cloth - seemingly a favourite remedy for colds…!

So, there are 12 for starters, I’ll put up some more in the next post. I must admit I haven’t tried any of these yet and as mentioned the volumes stated will need adjusting for solo drinkers.

Er, enjoy…?

Liam

Gourmet’s Book of Food and Drink by Oswald Atherton Fleming with illustrations by William M. Hendy was published in 1933 by John Lane, The Bodley Head Ltd. in London and printed by Western Printing Services Ltd, Bristol, England. It is dedicated to his wife, ‘Who can make an omelette’ …

All written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its original source, and a link back to this post.

Pub Fiction: Rituals

A freezing easterly wind blew through the village as the old man limped to the doorway of the public house. He turned the cold handle and opened the door with a sharp creak, closing it quickly behind him and resting his palm for a moment on the brass push-plate, staring at the fading condensation marks from his fingers when he pulled his hand away. He turned and glanced at the others in the establishment as he rolled up his worn cap and shoved it into the deep pockets of his overcoat. Four men were lined out along the counter, their elbows on the dark mahogany countertop and their hands held in front of their mouths as if in prayer. They stared straight ahead, even when they took a sip from the small glasses sitting in front of each of them. Two well-dressed men were sitting at a table on low stools, one talking in whispered tones as the other nodded along, tipping the ash from his cigarette onto the floor at his feet.

He made his way to the bar where the man behind the counter looked up at him from his newspaper and without a word took a small bottle of stout from the shelf behind him and opened it before pouring it with care into a glass and placing it in front of the old man. He took some pennies from a small pouch in his pocket and put them on the counter, then he picked up the glass and walked to a table at the back of the small room, conscious of his ungainly gait and the eyes of the men at the counter, and the man behind it, on his back. As he sat down, he heard the scrape of his coins being removed from the counter and the sound of them being thrown into a drawer that held precious few other coins on a night like this.

The two men who had been talking got up, put on their caps and left with a small nod to the man behind the bar, letting in a blast of cold air that even managed to reach the corner where the man sat. There was silence in pub now, just broken by the wind that whistled outside and the rhythmic tic-toc of the clock that hung over the back of the counter, its pendulum swinging back and forth the only movement to be seen in the dim light from the lamps on the wall.

He lifted the glass to his lips and took a drink, being careful not to spill any of it as he did so, but he placed the glass back down on the table a little too clumsily when he was wiping the froth from his lip with the sleeve of his overcoat. The thud of the glass on the wooden tabletop broke the silence, causing one of the men at the bar to look over his shoulder towards the noise before finishing his whiskey and nodding to the man behind the bar for another, which he let it sit in front of him as he returned to the same pose as his fellow silent drinkers at the counter.

The old man thought about these nights and whether they really improved his mood, but the need for some interaction, even if it was almost hostile in nature was better than staying home and staring at the flames dancing in the peat of the hearth in his hollow house. He had hurt his leg that day repairing the wood and wire fence that marked the boundary of his little farm, and the two mile walk to the village had been difficult and painful, but it was Thursday night and this was the short journey he undertook four nights a week every week to this public house in the village, where he drank two small bottles of stout before making his way back to his own house over the hill. He could not call his house a home, as a home was something comforting, a place you felt a part of, or an attachment to at least. It had ceased to be such a thing when his wife had died three years previously, and as they had not been able to have any children he was alone now in the house and in the world, or so it seemed to him. Since her funeral his life at become a series of tasks to be mentally ticked off every week or month, an existence to be lived through more than an actual life.

And this was one such undertaking, something that had to be done, like the sparse shopping he did once a month in the big town, or mass on a Sunday morning followed by a visit to the graveyard that fell away from the site of the church into what seemed to him to be the coldest part of world at times. But it was these habits that kept him functioning in this world and gave his life at least some sense of vague purpose, if only for his own sanity. He felt he was destined to perform these rituals until his body finally gave in to age and he would once again see his darling wife. He could picture her now when he closed his eyes, see her as she was in her youth. She had been a striking woman with jet black hair, skin like porcelain and green eyes that flashed and twinkled when she smiled. Even as she aged, and even as that foul disease had ravaged her body her eyes remained pure and youthful right to the end. He opened his own eyes and stared at his drink, blinking the wetness from them, as no man in this parish could be seen to be crying. He picked up his glass again and finished the remaining liquid in one go before standing up carefully and with some trouble from his lame leg going to the bar.

A bottle opened, poured, placed, and paid.

He returned to his table and stared at the clock, listening to the tic-toc and watching the pendulum, wishing he could make it go faster and that he could force time to jump forward in huge leaps to get to where he wanted to be, but knowing it was a futile task. Things happened at their own pace and the progression of the hours, weeks, months and years could not be affected by the hopes and wants of a tired old man. His leg ached even more now and as he looked at one of the men at the bar raising his glass to his lips it occurred to him that perhaps a something stronger than stout might help with the pain. He held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart to the man behind the bar, who looked down at him curiously before pouring out a small glass and bringing it to him. He placed it beside the glass of stout, taking the worn pennies that the old man had left out for it.

He drank back the whiskey in one go and followed it with a gulp of stout to wash the taste away, but it still burned his throat and caused him to cough. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his mouth as he sat there, all the while the four men at the bar stared at him via the reflection of the long mirror that hung behind the bar. He felt embarrassed at not being able to take to whiskey but in truth he was not a big drinker, and rarely had anything stronger than his small bottles. The men leaning on the bar returned to their drinks and thoughts, and the man behind it stood looking at the door and then his pocket watch, before glancing back at the old man briefly.

He thought he felt the pain easing in his leg so with that belief in his head, and wanting to show the other men he could hold his drink, he cleared his throat and signalled for another whiskey. The barman hesitated at first but eventually stretched for the bottle and went through the same routine again, removing the empty glass and replacing it with a full one. More pennies scarped along the rough wooded table.

This time he sipped it, taking care not to breathe in as he did so and having a smaller gulp of his remaining stout after each drink. He immediately began to feel better, as the pain was almost gone from his leg and he felt a numbing cloud form around the thoughts in his head. Perhaps this could be a new part to his weekly routine he thought, on Thursdays he would add a couple of small ones to his stouts, especially on cold nights like this. Yes, that is what he would do. And look, time was moving quicker now too, the clock had jumped forward and the four men had left one by one, disappearing quietly and separately into the night so that now it was just him and the man behind the bar left in the place in the near silence.

The clock chimed on the hour and the man behind the bar got up and started tidying away glasses, draping a towel over them before counting the money and recording it in a small notebook which he dropped into the drawer and locked with the turn of a key. The old man nodded to him and slowly if a little unsteadily got to his feet, raising a hand towards him to say he was fine. The man from behind the bar followed him to the door and waited until he buttoned up his overcoat, retrieved the cap from the pocket and venture out into the cold night, before locking the door behind him and turning off the lights.

The old man was now standing in the middle of the rutted road, the pain in his leg just a dull ache as he started a little unsteadily toward home. He felt warm inside for the first time in months if not years. The full moon was in his back, as was the cold wind. He watched his dim shadow dance on the uneven road as he made his way up the hill, the few lights still shining in the houses in the village quickly falling behind him as he walked onwards.

He passed the abandoned farms and the houses that stood like roofless bunkers in the moonlight, inhabited only by the long-lost memories of the people who lived there in his youth. He crested the top of the hill and looked down on his own bleak house, roofed but with the same lost ghosts of his past waiting inside the door. He stood for a moment staring at that building of cold stone and ancient timber before feeling a sense of loss creep up along the road and settle into his bones, replacing the warmth that was there just minutes before. He wanted to turn back, back to the pub for maybe one more drink if the man from behind the bar would let him back in, so he started to return to the village before stopping suddenly. Foolish, he thought to himself, and he turned again back towards home, but his bad leg suddenly gave way and he stumbled sideways, falling towards the ditch. He put out his hands to save himself but his foot slipped on a shallow muddy puddle and he was falling backwards now instead, with the whole world tilting away from him. He heard a loud crack and an intense pain in the back of his head, then he was staring at the sky.

Even with the moon at its fullest, the stars were bright and twinkling. He no longer felt cold or pain and the stars were dancing now and changing, coalescing into a pair of green eyes that sparkled and shone in a pale face surrounded by black hair …

Irish Brewing History: Beer Strengths in the Early 20th Century

One of the questions that comes to mind when I look at old newspaper brewery advertisements or at a newly-found vintage beer labels is just how strong were the beers of our brewing past. Nowadays the strength of any beer is displayed on the can or bottle, or perhaps scrawled in chalk on the blackboard over the counter in our favourite bar, and if all else fails a quick search online gives you the information you require.

But this was not always the case, as in the not-so-distant past there were few if any regulations regarding the displaying to the consumer of the strength of any given beer. I am not sure that the retailer cared, nor did the customer to any great degree other than knowing that XX was stronger than X and stout was stronger than porter - although that was really only true if you were comparing the brews from just a single brewery.

But that alcohol strength is one vital piece of information that is of importance to the strangely obsessive folks that inhabit the niche world of beer history, and in the absence of a brewing record showing the gravities of the beer before and after fermentation - and those records are quite rare in Ireland - there tends to be a lot of use of the word 'probably' instead of 'definitely' - something that seems to be the case with much of our general history too.

On a Recent visit to the archive department that is housed in the basement of the the library building on the wonderful campus at University College Cork, I unearthed an interesting notebook that belonged to an Edward Cruise of Ardee Street Brewery in Dublin. My reason for being there was to look for historic brewing recipes for Cork's own Lady's Well Brewery - or Murphy's Brewery as it is more commonly known - and I found those and much more besides, but this is a small example of the other treasures held within those well-minded records.

Ardee Street Brewery had quite a few owners, and I have written very briefly about the brewery with regard to an older beer label here, but in the time period we will be focussing on it was trading as Watkins, Jameson, Pim & Co. and Edward Cruise appears to have been the head brewer there during this period. He is listed here as a member of the London Section of The Institute of Brewing since 1913 with an address at Ardee Street. He would also become head brewer in Lady's Well Brewery in 1948 and later became a board member there¹. This would explain how this notebook ended up in these archives before it fell into my grateful hands - at least for one damp morning in October.

The notebook contains some quite interesting information but what stood out for me was a list of the gravities of different beers from 1906 until 1912. These were arrived at by a somewhat complicated process of distillation and gravity measuring that may or may not be entirely accurate but seems to give a relatively accurate figure for the original gravity of any given beer based on its 'present' gravity and spirit value. Mr. Cruise, or perhaps his laboratory team, had done all the hard work to give a list of final gravities (as well as other information) and this just left me with the task of calculating the Alcohol by Volume with a simple formula, and to transcribe to the best of my ability the handwritten list. You will see below where I have made some assumptions, but what it gives us is a fascinating list of the gravities of quite a number of beers that have been 'lost' up to this point.

Beer Gravities and Strengths - Calculated by the Distillation Method

Year	Product	Present Gravity	Original Gravity	Alcohol by Vol.
1906	Ardee Street Brewery(?) Vaults X No. 31	1.0141	1.0528	5.08%
1906	Mountjoy X [Porter?]	1.0144	1.0587	5.81%
1906	D'Arcy & Son Porter	1.0198	1.0587	5.11%
1907	Mountjoy Porter	1.0137	1.0567	5.64%
1907	D'Arcy & Son Stout	1.0184	1.0617	5.68%
1907	Guinness Extra [Stout]	1.0232	1.0732	6.56%
1907	D'Arcy & Son Porter	1.0183	1.0546	4.76%
1907	Watkins X D[raught?]	1.0162	1.0548	5.07%
1907	O'Connell Strong Ale	1.0105	1.0522	5.47%
1907	Foreign AG & Co(?) Invalid sold in Limerick - Guinness?	1.0213	1.0760	7.18%
1907	Watkins 14 S.S. [Special Stout]	1.0126	1.0543	5.47%
1908	Guinness XX Draught	1.0216	1.0740	6.88%
1908	Guinness same as sent to Texas(?)	1.0116	1.0703	7.70%
1908	O'Connell Strong Ale	1.0146	1.0533	5.08%
1908	Younger & Co Canteen Stout	1.0237	1.0508	3.56%
1908	Watkins No. 1 Skr(?) 45 XX	1.0179	1.0755	7.56%
1909	"Strangways" [Strangman's!] Waterford Porter	1.0198	1.0561	4.76%
1909	Ind Coope Luncheon Stout	1.0131	1.0542	5.39%
1909	Allsopp Oatmeal Stout	1.0143	1.0554	5.39%
1909	Ardee Street Brewery(?) Pale Ale supplied to canteen	1.0061	1.0517	5.99%
1909	Ardee Street Brewery(?) Mild Ale	1.0061	1.0511	5.91%
1909	Ardee Street Brewery(?) Pale Ale Ex Vaults	1.0060	1.0511	5.92%
1909	Ardee Street Brewery(?) D.S. [Double Stout] Canteen	1.0134	1.0640	6.64%
1909	Ardee Street Brewery(?) XXX Ex Vaults	1.0205	1.0821	8.09%
1909	Ardee Street Brewery(?) Canteen Pale Ale	1.0117	1.0540	5.55%
1912	Guinness X	1.0145	1.0562	5.47%
1912	Guinness X	1.0152	1.0563	5.39%
1912	Guinness X	1.0154	1.0569	5.45%
1912	Guinness X	1.0154	1.0569	5.45%
1912	Guinness XX - Sold at 3d per pint	N/A	N/A	N/A
1912	Ardee Street Brewery(?) No. 44 Vaults Special Stout	N/A	N/A	N/A

Transcribed by Liam - www.beerfoodtravel.blogspot.com - via item BL/BM/BC/445(1-7) in Cork University Library Archives

Do not reproduce without receiving permission to do so and crediting sources

This is certainly a wonderful range with some interesting notes...

• O'Connell Strong Ale was not as strong as I would have assumed given the name
• He acquired a sample of Guinness that was the 'same as sent to Texas' if I have transcribed it correctly, and Guinness were certainly exporting to Texas at this time according to David Hughes's 'A Bottle of Guinness Please'
• I have assumed that where no name is given for the brewery or 'Vaults' are mentioned that these beers are from Ardee Street's Brewery's own stock - but I have no actual proof of this. It certainly gives a lovely list of the beers being brewed if we include those written as 'Watkins' - Special Stout, Draught X, Pale Ale, Mild Ale and XXX
• 'Canteen' beers were those normally supplied to army canteens but I am not sure if this is what the term means here, although I suspect it does
• Note how Strangman's in Waterford is written as 'Strangway's' - almost Strangeways!
• The 'Watkins No. 1 Skr(?) 45 XX' is quite a strong beer but I cannot quite make out some of the writing. I am assuming that the numbers shown beside various recipes refer to the gyle - again I have no proof of that
• We see a Younger's weak looking canteen stout listed as well as an Ind Coope Luncheon Stout and an Allsopp Oatmeal Stout - both at the same abv

There are some notes to the side of the list that give the actual OGs of some of Ardee Street Brewery's own beers (as well as figures from a Lipton Analysis?) and although they do not match exactly the calculated FG figure, they are generally close enough to right to give me confidence that the gravities of the beers are relatively accurate for the purposes of showing the strengths of the various brews.

Here are the original pages from the notebook to show the extra information and other notes ...

©Murphys Archive item BL/BM/BC/445(1-7), Special Collections & Archives, UCC Library, University College Cork, Ireland

© Murphys Archive item BL/BM/BC/445(1-7), Special Collections & Archives, UCC Library, University College Cork, Ireland

I hope you find this information as interesting as I did, I must admit I was quite excited to see it jump from the pages of a century old book ...

(With thanks to all the extremely helpful and professional people in the archive department in UCC.)

Liam

¹ ‘The Murphy Story’ – Donal Ó Drisceoil & Diarmuid Ó Drisceoil

All written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its source, and a link back to this post.

Original images are © Murphys Archive item BL/BM/BC/445(1-7), Special Collections & Archives, UCC Library, University College Cork, Ireland from whom I have received permission to display these images on this site.

More Lost Beer Labels - Watkins of Dublin's Extra Stout in 1886

As you may know, I have a fondness for old Irish beer labels and when I cannot find the originals then it is nice to come across facsimiles of labels in books and print. Thanks to the Chesney Brothers and Joseph Watkins & Co. from Ardee Street in Dublin taking out the below advertisement in The Ballymena Observer in 1886 we get to see what the label from that brewery looked like at this time. 

These types of advertisements were common enough given the shenanigans of certain publicans and bottlers who, in order to make some extra profit, would pass off an often inferior product for a 'premium priced' beer, and were often pulled up on the practice - most notably by Guinness and Bass.

Here is the full advertisement:

Watkins' brewery, and its long and mixed history, deserves a much longer post but for now I would suggest watching this video from The Beer Nut's blog ...

Liam

All written content and the research involved in publishing it here is my own unless otherwise stated and cannot be reproduced elsewhere without permission, full credit to its source, and a link back to this post.

Newspaper images are © The British Library Board - All rights reserved. With thanks to The British Newspaper Archive (www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk) from whom I have received permission to display this image on this site.