Pub Fiction: Sacred

The public house stood on a small rise on the road out of the town, close to the river and the old ford, between that ancient crossing and the new bridge. The bridge was not new-new, it was just the last of a series of bridges that had crossed the wide river over the centuries. A timber version came first, replacing the need for the ford. Then a few other wooden versions were constructed before stone began to be used, each washed away by floods on regular occasions. Finally an ugly, riveted steel and concrete version proved strong enough not to buckle, bend or fall into the often turbulent waters that appeared regularly in autumn and winter, as the water-soaked high land that loomed over the town lost its ability to hold on to the incessant rain and coursed through gorges before coming together for an assault on everything that stood in the river’s path.

Even during those floods, the site of the public house never succumbed to the water, it was always just high enough to escape, becoming an island in the midst of a temporary lake at times in the past. There were pictures of the pub getting barrels of ale or porter delivered to it by boat during one particularly long period of rain, although who exactly was going to drink that beer was never explained, as any patrons would also need to be ferried to the pub, and back. But there it stood, a wooden, stone and brick building with an unusually high pitched slate roof and a tall, crooked chimney. There were windows on two sides made from ancient, wavy glass and timber that had hardened like iron by the passing of time and layers of paint. The front door was recessed in the angle of the windowed sides, creating a triangular porch that pointed back towards the town. It had a long L-shaped counter that faced the windows, with a snug on one end with sliding doors for access, and a hatch for getting served. There was a private living room with a tiny kitchen behind the bar, and some bedrooms upstairs. The very basic toilets were in a lean-too at the back of the building and had been added recently enough. Before that? Well, the river wasn’t far away and everything flowed down the hill anyway. Nobody knew exactly how long the structure had stood here and it was certainly a site more suited for a castle than a public house. An inn or some other resting place that offered accommodation for weary travellers would also have made more sense, but here it was, just a simple drinking house.

The myths and legends passed down verbally from year to year and ear to ear, before finally being committed to paper, spoke of a far older structure somewhere close by. A ring of stones. No sign of the stones remained, and perhaps it was just a story, told to scare children away from the ‘Fairy Ring’ and the treacherous river. The once boggy land that surrounded the hill had given its name to the establishment, Tigh Moneen – The Little Bog House. No trace remained of the bog after all these years, the name incongruous after centuries of new layers being added to the original ground level, but there it stood this odd vestige of older times, resistant to the development and major modernisation that happened around it; towered over by modern apartments and other high-rise buildings but oddly seeming higher, and perhaps loftier, than those structures?

And if you paid very close attention as you approached it on foot, this lost remnant of the town's history seemed to hum, vibrate and shimmer, not felt by ears or feet, nor seen by eyes exactly, but certainly experienced in your very core.

-o-

Big Isaac the barman was now pretty sure that he was in fact dead.

At first it had been one odd thing. He couldn’t get out from behind the counter itself as every time he went to lift the bar flap and enter the rest of the public house he found himself back behind the bar polishing glasses. And that was another thing? He could pick up a pint tumbler but it wasn’t really a proper glass. It felt vaguely like one in his hands but there was something wrong with its heft and how the light reflected from it. It gave off odd sparkles that seemed to drift up and away from the surface as he used his cloth to buff it, as if he was wearing away tiny particles of pure light with every movement. Another issue was his clothes. He couldn’t remember wearing any outfit other than what he currently had on, which was loose cotton shirt, grey with a stand-up collar. His trousers were thick grey corduroy and held up by braces. Over those he wore a waistcoat of lurid purple, buttons done up apart from the first and last. On his feet were heavy boots of scuffed black leather, well-worn but very comfortable. A sprung metal garter held up each sleeve and an old silver watch in the pocket of his waistcoat, the chain stretched across his large belly, completed the ensemble. Wearing this getup and standing six foot six he certainly was a sight to behold. 

And that there was an issue too, he could never catch sight of himself in any of the mirrors hanging on the walls of the public house. Between the names of long-gone breweries and beer brands he couldn’t quite see himself. It was as if the mirrors were all just slightly angled to catch the reflection of a part of the bar counter he wasn’t behind. Even if he moved, it was as if the mirrors moved too. Unlike the Sacred Heart of Jesus picture that hung on the wall in the snug, its constant gaze boring into him from over the lit, flickering crucifix filament bulb in its glass cover that sat under the frame, whenever the sliding partition that gave those in the snug a little privacy from the servers behind the bar was opened. Big Isaac wasn’t a very religious man, or was he? He didn't know but he blessed himself whenever he faced the picture, just to be sure.

Something else odd was how he couldn’t remember being anywhere other than behind the bar of the public house. It was all quite strange? He knew that he worked in The Moneen but he couldn't remember anything else. Not family or friends, not a home, or any other building for that matter. He didn’t know how long this had gone on, but he felt strangely calm about it. He seemed to have a purpose although he couldn’t tell exactly what that purpose was right now.

He didn’t like the blackouts though.

He’d be behind the bar polishing those damn glasses (Come to think of it, that was the only real task he seemed to perform?) when his surroundings would flicker and dim, then there would be blinding flash followed by darkness. Slowly, a pinprick of light would grow and the public house would rematerialise in front of his eyes. Big Isaac didn’t know what a blackout really was but this seemed the best explanation for what occurred at these times.

Although it didn’t explain The Others.

They always appeared in the same positions when he came out of his ‘blackouts’. At first he had missed them as they moved like blurs of light and shadow with just a splash of colour catching his eye. He discovered it was easier to see them by not looking directly at them, a bit like staring at stars that appear brighter in your peripheral vision, as these entities seemed to exist just out of direct sight. Eventually by concentrating a little harder he had begun to recognise them more clearly. A lady with a short bobbed haircut and shorter dress, who showed too much of her legs in his opinion. Her bright, yellow headband flashing as she appeared to move her head, and body, at enormous speed while standing oddly at a table talking to no one, her mouth opening and closing way too quickly. There was also a gaunt, elegant gentleman who stood at the counter after another of his blackouts, and who moved, like the lady, in fast forward. His moustache and bowler hat shimmering more that the bright red bowtie that adorned his scrawny neck and his hand quivering around a glass of something clear and bright in a glass that splashed and sparkled as his body moved as if to fill in a certain void in space. Yet another figure who appeared was a longhaired young man who stood in the corner of the bar with a book and a pint of something dark on the shelf where he leaned. He too was all grey and full of jerks and tiny turns, with strange blue footwear blurring as he moved in the same odd fashion as the others. There were others too, like the spinning child with the green hat at the door, and the quivering older lady with the orange shopping bag, or the newspaper reader with his wine-coloured glasses, and the bearded man with turquoise polo shirt who just stood near, but not at, the bar, head nodding and his body shaking too, like all the others. Were there more? He thought so but couldn’t quite remember, as none of them ever appeared together. None of them seemed real to Big Isaac, and although he was pretty sure he didn't really believe in ghosts that seemed to be the only explanation. None of it made sense but then again he wasn’t really sure what sense was, or reality for that matter anymore.

It was at that point that he realised that perhaps something wasn’t quite right with his mind, or his surroundings – that something was off with his world. 

But it was the angel in the snug that finally convinced him that he was dead. He was polishing a glass – again – when he glimpsed movement behind the hammered glass hatch of the serving screen on the bar that opened into the snug. He put down the glass, or perhaps it was buffed to nothingness, and walked to the end of the bar and slid across the glass panel. At first, all he could see was the morose Scared Heart picture staring at him, the crucifix in its little glass dome flickering and glowing as ever. He blessed himself and was about to slide back the partition when he glimpsed a flash of purple spinning quickly before the grey that coalesced around it began to form a shape in his peripheral vision.

Was it an angel? It certainly looked like one once he concentrated on the being's appearance. He could make out a tall creature with what looked like wings on its back and a purple-flamed sword held in front of its face, casting sickly highlights on the being’s angular features. The blade-like face with a sharp nose and pointed ears appeared to be quivering with rage as it vibrated and twisted in a tight space, just like The Others. Big Isaac took a step back and froze, shocked by the appearance of this grotesque, biblical angel in the confines of the pub. Why would it be here? Come to think of it, why were The Others here? Why was he here? He still couldn't remember.

It was while he stared at the angel that he decided that seeing it and the other ghost-like apparitions must surely meant he was dead too? Perhaps visible to The Others just as a faint figure ferociously polishing glass tumblers, his vibrant purple waistcoat the only thing to attract the eye. Maybe he too was a wraith? Destined to exist but not to live, to think but not remember anything outside the walls of the public house. He was one of The Others too perhaps, but slightly freer to roam?

Suddenly the angel-like creature turned his quivering face and looked straight at Isaac. With great effort it moved its hands and twisted its body and it was then that Isaac realised it wasn’t quite an angel. It was a being of some kind and the sword was certainly real, but what he had took to be wings now seemed to be a cloak hanging over sharp, protruding shoulder blades, exaggerated by the stooped, hunchbacked form of the creature and an unseen weight on those shoulders. The face seemed to take on a clearer appearance and Isaac realised that what he had taken as rage was maybe just sadness and fear. That face showed chronic aging too, not just the age that normal beings show with the passing of time. This face was ancient, the paper-thin skin stretched across now-grey, primeval bones. One of the hands that held the sword released its grip and with great effort and a sharp crack, it slowly moved towards Isaac. Now he felt only pity for the figure, it needed comfort and help. The image of the Sacred Heart looked down on Isaac as he reached out to meet the hand that came towards him, and as their fingers touched the world went purple and all that Isaac saw was the vanishing image of the red flickering cross before solid blackness.

-o-

Isaac stood on a small hill overlooking a river. In the millisecond when he touched the being he learned what it was and how it came to be trapped. A Warrior Fae, a Soldier of the Sidhe, one of the Fairy Hoard, a Chieftain of the Tuatha dé Danann, or whatever name it and its type had become to be known as over the years and centuries, and who had come to this land and ruled here for a while, as other had before and after them ...

But the landscape itself can’t be ruled, it was older than time and any beings, and eventually always won the war – if not the battles – with those who sought to tame it and subjugate the ordinary folk. It lured and trapped this ferocious Sidh inside a stone pushed up from the earth, and over time it trapped others if its kind too.

Isaac looked and saw a circle of stones that ran around the hill top, each held a glimmer of colour.

Now blackness again. Then suddenly he was back in The Moneen, but now he was in the snug under the watchful eyes and the red cross. The world tilted and he saw the man in the red bowtie. Again it shifted and now he saw the lady with the yellow headband. One after another all The Others appeared, flashing into existence so quickly and disappearing again only to appear a second later, faster and faster. Eventually he could see them all at the one time in a blur, along with more figures, as the very structure of the public house disappeared, and he now realised that they formed a circle, and always had, but now they were standing, and quivering and moving tightly here on a bare hill. Stones started to shove through the soil where each of The Others stood, trapped by time and space, until both stones and people coalesced and eventually formed a circle. Oscar tried to escape but he was locked in the confines of the shape of his own stone now, twisting and turning, polishing a blasted tumbler again. He was trapped in the mundane, as the last of the Sidhe roamed free and followed the rest of his kind that had found the way to escape the stones over the previous years, fleeing into the high hills and back out of the minds and memories of men.

Free at last.

-o-

Tigh Moneen was busy most nights, as people liked its quirkiness and quaintness, even if they did feel an uneasiness before the entered through the front door. This wasn’t helped by the rumours of those who had disappeared from this side of the town over the decades and centuries, never seen again and no bodies ever found. That was the issue with drinking one too many this close to the river of course, and the slippery concrete of the bridge combined with the precarious nature of the river bank and quays. One misadventure or slip and the river could be quite unforgiving in how it gobbled you up and left no trace behind.

But once through the door of the public house and in the warmth of the open fire on a winter’s evening, and with a glass of something mildly intoxicating in hand, that apprehension slipped away like the cold from your bones, and you felt safe and secure in this old drinking house. If you were lucky and well timed you could sit in the snug under the gaze of the Sacred Heart picture. And at times, by some trick of the light, a curious flash of lurid purple was reflected on the glass and frame, and from the dome that held the flickering red cross.

Image 1: Bar at Balmoral Hotel, 1895, Notre-Dame Street, Montreal, Quebec, Canada by Wm. Notman & Son (1882-1919). Public domain via Wiki Commons.
Image 2: Callanish Standing Stones VII (explored) - Flickr - B^lly Frank.jpg. Public Domain via Wiki Commons.
Converted to marker-style illustration using Android Gallery Editor, then edited in IrfanView to improve contrast, saturation and sharpness.

The Guinness Blacklist – Testing the Taste Buds & Challenging Convention

If there's one thing that will anger and traumatise a certain type of Guinness drinker it's the thought of blending their hallowed tipple with any other drink. Okay, so there's more than one thing, there are many things that will cause their teeth to gnash – from the glass, to the pour, to the size of the head, and a host of other perceived serious issues that will somehow cause that stout to taste awful. But probably top of that pile, nothing should be added to their stout on pain of death by a 1,000 social media replies – with perhaps the exception of a grudging dash of blackcurrant. This preciousness around Guinness seems to be a relatively recent phenomenon, probably driven by an internet obsession with the image of the so-called perfect pint. It has of late become sacrosanct and yet another example of the swapping of one flawed religion for another form of worship, complete with preachers and gurus.

But this quest for idolatry and purity of vision/taste hasn't always been the case, as there was a time when even Guinness themselves, albeit their English marketing division, were promoting (to a point) something that would horrify many a drinker of their beer today.

So, let the traumatisation and gnashing begin.

-o-

The summer of 1975 was a hot one in the UK, as was the following year so if there was ever a time to float the idea of mixing Guinness with other libations it would appear that the marketing department of the Guinness brewery at Park Royal in London picked the right years, given that Guinness is often categorised – erroneously – as a winter drink for cold weather. It was in in that year that the Guinness Blacklist was launched, with a somewhat begrudging tone it seems, on the UK's unsuspecting public. The time of the launch and promotion seems to be coincidental to the sudden flip to hot weather, as it would have had to be planned months before, but it certainly was fortuitous if the idea was to keep people drinking stout and not change to the cold lager that was becoming more and more abundant as the drink of choice in pubs and in the home at this time. But as we will see, given the tone of the marketing message it was more about a clever form of advertising perhaps that a very serious attempt to change the drinking habits of Guinness drinkers.

From the 11th of June 1975 advertisement began to appear in national newspapers in the UK in a slightly admonishing tone telling Guinness drinkers that although the brewery knew it was happening that weren't really that keen on the idea of Guinness being drank with anything added to it. They claimed they knew it was happening and had a complied a leaflet that listed what they saw as the common additions to their famous stout. Called the Guinness Blacklist, the name working well to both describe a list of black drinks as well as those that were disapproved of, and it contained a list of twenty Guinness blends that they say they felt were interesting, each accompanied by an illustration. The list could be obtained for free by filling in a coupon and sending it off to a promotion company on Brentford high street. Perhaps spurred on by the hot weather, by the following summer the tone of the advertisements had softened to resignation, to the point where in September 1976 similar advertisements for the list were almost begging drinkers to try a Guinness shandy.

The tone of the opening blurb on the list itself is almost sceptical resignation in its thoughts and opinion on the practice of mixing.

When we started to compile the Blacklist, we little realised how much people have been experimenting with Guinness.

It seems there's scarcely a drink that hasn't, at one time or another, shared the same glass as our dark, distinctive beer.

Reluctantly, we have to admit that many of the mixtures we tried were surprisingly pleasant. Others provoked, well, mixed feelings.

We suggest you try a few careful experiments at home, or down at the pub, and make up your own mind about mixing Guinness.

You may find some of the drinks we mention have different names from those you're used to.

The fact is, names of drinks differ widely from one part of the country to another. (For example, at least three different mixers go under the name Longship.)

Similarly, the origin of many of these drinks is somewhat uncertain. If in doubt, we've stuck to the most entertaining, if not believable, stories.

However, we'd be grateful for any further information about the practice of Guinness-mixing.

In fact, if there's anything you'd like to add, let us know.

The leaflet then goes on to list and illustrate the various blends that may or may not have existed. Some certainly did but some are also a little questionable in history, origin if not just general appeal.

-o-

So what were these blends and what did they taste like? Well, there is only one way to find out ...

(A note on blending: These drinks will be thoroughly mixed, unlike what seems to be a newish method of beer 'blending' where the two products are layered one over the other. That is not a blended drink, it is two separate drinks in one glass and it's pointless from a tasting perspective, even if it is quite photogenic in its appearance.)

-o-

Top Hat

The history behind most of these names deserves to be taken with a fair degree of scepticism, and this so-called 'popular drink' seems to have gone almost unreported in publication at this time, although there is a mention from the previous century, and in more very recent times of course. In general, factual content might be a little hard to come by with regard to some of these names and their provenance, but that's not quite the point of this exercise, and no doubt this mix was tried by drinkers at some point in the early part of the 20th century too.

The suggestion in the advertisements was that these blends be tried in the pub or at home, both with bottled Guinness Extra (now called Original) of with the draught version. This one called for ginger as a mixer so I selected Crabbies and a small bottle of Extra Stout. Back in the day this would have been a half pint bottle of stout not a 330ml, and the ginger beer may or may not have been alcoholic like this one, but it seemed a good choice. This is really the stout-based version of a drink called a shandy gaff.

At first it was mixed half-and-half but on tasting the blend the ginger was too dominant, its mild spice-burn was followed by an unpleasant acrid quality from what remained of the stout flavour, the roast barley, which left the whole drink tasting like a cheap coffee and ginger mix with no redeeming quality.

I persisted. Adding more stout to the mix, and using something closer to a 1 part ginger beer to 2 parts stout, made a huge difference to the experience. With the ginger beer now slotting into the background the flavours of the stout could be easily discerned, and this new ratio transformed it into a completely different drink. Gone was the over spicy heat and that lingering burnt flavour and what we now had was a very pleasant drink that hovered somewhere between and brown ale that was using some new-fangled New-World hops and some type of fancy spiced cola beverage. Success at the second attempt, and I can certainly see the appeal of this one. Not offensive in any way and perhaps a pleasant winter drink? Maybe mulled with a poker?! Regardless, it can be recommended to try, but watch the ratio of stout to ginger beer..

-o-

Calcutta Cup

This blend gets the odd mention in more modern times but seems elusive in the Empire days based on a quick and, admittedly, unthorough hunt of old newspapers and books. There is certainly some logic to adding tonic to anything in certain climates given its protective qualities, but again the name and the history seem to be a little forced. It did certainly exist from at the very least the 1960s although perhaps not under that name.

I chose a small bottle of Guinness Extra Stout for this one too, along with a small can of Schweppes tonic water. I was a little wary of the tonic so mixed it roughly 1 part to 5 of the stout at first. That quantity had little effect on the drink, it just added a little cloying sweetness, so as with the Top Hat I reblended with 1 part tonic to 2 parts Guinness. This added an odd but rather nice coppery metallic bitterness to the drink that balanced the sweetness a little and something resinous too, like a mild lychee flavour perhaps? Although that might have been down to tropical empirical thoughts.

I'm not sure, but in a blind tasting you might just think it was some sort of too-clever artisan porter? It was very refreshing, and I could see it being popular in hot weather, or if one was blighted with mosquitos, but I think it might be difficult to drink it in large quantities with that still-lingering sweetness. Perhaps a different brand of tonic would give a different outcome on that front.

It's certainly one to try and it is quite inoffensive, if hardly inspiring.

-o-

Wasp Sting

The thought of mixing Guinness with orange juice sounds, even to me, as deeply unappealing as the effects of the name of this concoction. And the first half-and-half pour didn’t do anything to change my opinion. It ends up a murky brown colour with no head retention and an overpowering orange aroma. The bitterness of the orange juice clashes dreadfully with the bitterness of the stout with just a tiny redeeming quality of something sweet and cola-like right at the end. This is certainly one that would be best served ice-cold to mask the flavours, as it is quite unpleasant at this ratio.

But let’s persevere. Remixing at the two parts Guinness to one part orange juice changes it completely. The murkiness is now masked by the dark stout, and the head retention is somewhat better making it visually more appealing. There is still a strong orange juice smell just before you dive in but it’s not offensive, and the taste is better, with the stout and orange juice's bitterness more balanced by being unbalanced. It’s not quite Terry’s Chocolate Orange territory but it’s certainly heading in that vague direction, albeit a dark chocolate version. At this ratio it’s definitely more acceptable but not one I’ll be rushing back to try anytime soon. It certainly feels like it was put into the list like a filler used on album with just a few proper hits.

-o-

Black Velvet

This is certainly one of the best-known Guinness cocktails, achieving fame and perhaps some notoriety too. I took a small liberty with this one by using Prosecco instead of champagne, but I can’t see that drastically changing the outcome flavour wise. The Blacklist suggest a fifty-fifty ratio so that’s what I began with and at that mix it was quite a pleasant drink if a little, well, boring. It tasted very much like a sweetish cider with a little kick of grape must or juice. It’s very easy to drink, too easy perhaps, and not stout-like in any way. Very inoffensive.

I then changed to my now standard 2-to-1 mix of stout to mixer and this completely transformed the experience. A dark cocoa taste was quite prominent now and at this ratio it tasted like a sourish dark ale of some description. The sweetness has practically disappeared too and I would imagine that this would absolutely confuse anyone on a blind tasting of sour beers. It really is quite a pleasant drink, and is still dangerously drinkable. It’s certainly one I’d return too, perhaps next time with actual champagne!

But what of the purported history in the Blacklist of it being invented at the Brooks’s Club in London in 1861? I can find no trace of that history prior to the publication of the list in the mid-seventies but it is certainly a drink with a lot of other history. Stout or porter mixed with champagne has been around for a very long time, with various stories and characters attached to it over the many years of its existence.

The actual first mention I can find is by Edward Lear in his 1851 book Journals of a Landscape Painter where he recounts that in 1848 while dining with Osman Mazhar Pasha, a governor in the Ottoman Empire, a captain of the guard was made to drink ‘an amazing mixture of porter and champagne, assuring him it was a species of Frank soup, which he seemed to like little enough.’

The German writer Otfrid Mylius mentions it in London Mysteries: Contemporary Social Scenes published in 1867 where he states that. ‘Kitty, the chambermaid, passed around the intoxicating mixture of porter and champagne during the break, which the dancers sipped rather immodestly.’

The one character who seems most closely connected with the drink is Otto von Bismarck, of which there are innumerable accounts from various sources (many just copying another mind) of it being his favourite tipple in or around the 1840s(?), albeit in publications from a few decades later. Some accounts even have it named after him, a 'Bismarck' being another name for the drink. (Not to be outdone, Paul von Hindenburg favoured an ‘East Prussia Cup’ where the blend of stout and champagne is fortified with brandy and burgundy!)

The American Harry Johnson mentions it in his Bartender’s Manual published in 1882 calling it a 'Champagne Velvet' using 'Irish porter' and champagne in a half-and-half ratio and stating the name comes from the drink making you ‘feel in a short time as fine as silk.’ So not actual feeling like velvet, strangely.

It is mentioned in Cakes & Ale, a Memory of Many Meals by Edward Spencer (Nathaniel Gubbins) in 1897 in his list of ‘Cups & Cordials’ where he name-checks Guinness and states that is one of the ‘best [beer] combinations possible’ and that it should be ‘drunk out of a pewter tankard, and is specially recommended as a between-the-acts refresher for the amateur actor.’

It was reported in 1902 that Cecil Rhodes also drank this blend, and it was called a ‘Velvet’, but known in South Africa as an ‘Imperial Shandy’ and by the early 1920s and into the 1930s it was being called a 'Black Velvet' as well as a 'Royal Shandy', where it is mentioned as being a revived Edwardian party drink and that the actress Miss Margret Rawlings was mainly responsible for said revival, while other newspaper sources claim it was ‘introduced’ by an Australian cricket team on tour in England and that the ‘Royal Shandy’ originated there.

Yet another newspaper report from the 1930s states that the mix of stout to champagne should be ’75-25 per cent’, which is close to my preferred ratio. The same report, where it is called a ‘Royal Shandy’ again and stating that it is sometimes called a Black Velvet, say that 'it was popular during the eighteenth century at the French Courts, where porter specially brewed by a Lord Mayor of London, Sir John Parsons, was “laced” with native champagne.' Now, Parsons died in 1717 so it would have been quite an early iteration of porter which was used! And one more unverified mention in a newspaper even claims it was invented by the wine steward to Russian Emperor Peter III, the husband of Catherine the Great. He died in 1762, so that pulls it back by many decades, if true of course, which it probably isn't.

The truth is probably that the drink has likely been made for as long as the two ingredients have existed and, regardless of the persons involved, this mix of two popular drinks most likely it dates back to the 18th century, and it's origins appear to point vaguely towards the continent but that certainly may not be the case.

I could go on but I won't, as there are many mentions of this mix of drinks in one form or another, with different names, over the last 175 years – that we do know at least. Plus, it appears that the name Black Velvet is at least 100 years old and the Velvet part predates that by another quarter of a century or so.

It seems to have many stories and legends attached to it, as to what's true and what's not I've no firm opinion other than the quote in the Blacklist appears to be wrong.

It's still a rather nice drink in the right ratios though.

-o-

Trojan Horse

Many years ago, I was on a trip to Düsseldorf and after a busy day of sightseeing, and a little drinking and eating, I ended up in a dark and moody bar on some side street in the city staring at a drinks menu. Scanning the list and not really knowing what I felt like I spied something called Krefelder. It wasn’t a brewery or beer I had heard of but there it was sitting with the list of local altbiers and it puzzled me how I hadn’t come across it previously, although Krefeld is a town close to the city. Well, I decided to rectify that by ordering one, but to my dismay what landed at my table was just altbier mixed with cola, a Krefelder!

I’ve no recollection of having such a mix since but here it is on the list so it needs to be revisited again, albeit with bottled stout and not altbier this time.

On the face of it, this blend should work, as they are both dark, although that’s pretty inconsequential of course, but the general flavours in cola and porters are relatively similar in many ways. So as far as making a porter shandy then it would certainly be the soft drink of choice to my mind. Cola is much sweeter compared to the double bitterness of this stout, from both the hops and burnt barley, but they certainly share a similar space on the palate. Red ale and red lemonade, and lager and, er, lemon-coloured lemonade are similar bedfellows to my mind too, although those are certainly based on colour matching as much as flavours. Perhaps.

Anyhow, the first mix was my usual half and half again, and the first impression was how dirty the head was, with black peaks to the craggy foam. The cola is quite dominant taste wise but after the initial hit of flavoured sweetness a very pleasant wash of bitterness and enhanced coffee-type taste cleans up the palate. It is actually extremely pleasant and has elements of a sort of fancy artisan, alcoholic coffee-cola if such thing existed. This was certainly a success in so far as creating a pleasant drink was concerned.

Buoyed by this triumph the drink was remixed at two parts Guinness to one part cola to see if that changed my opinion on how these drinks worked together. It didn’t, it only reinforced it.

This mix was probably even a bit better, it was certainly more balanced although there was a touch more astringency to the blend but not in an unpleasant way, if that's possible, as it worked well with the sweet cola flavour, which was a little more muted now of course. There was also a really nice silkiness to the drink, almost nitro-like although this wasn’t a nitro stout I had used. I could really see this being a successful low-ish alcohol drink for summer, or winter for that matter. This ratio was certainly the better blend for me, although the other was very palatable too.

Maybe the good people of Krefeld were right after all?!

-o-

Sensible Shoes

Mixing a brown ale with a stout seems almost like a waste of time as they are perhaps too similar in many (although not all) ways, so this seemed a predictable one. Brown ales are a scarce commodity to source on this island, and I wanted to resist using Newcastle Brown Ale, although in hindsight it might be the better option. I chose instead an American style brown that I thought might have a little more of the mentioned sweetness to it along with the extra charge of hops.

At the usual starting point blending of a half and half mix it seemed a little dull perhaps? It was like both drinks were a little lost in the blend. It was a very drinkable mix but there was an odd dryness to it more so than any sweet flavours coming through. Nothing of note or excitement so far.

Next, I tried two-thirds brown to one-third stout to try to up the sweetness and bring out the flavours of what is a very decent brown ale. This was much better, with more body, less odd dryness and a nice fruity resinous edge coming out from the hops in the brown ale. Right at the end there were nice notes of coffee and lemon too, giving this ration of a blend a pleasant if not spectacular finish.

Lastly, for a final comparison, I blended two-thirds stout to one-third of the brown ale. This was certainly a little more interesting than the half-and-half mix but was perhaps a little bit harsher, without any of the pleasant flavours of the brown ale coming through, and it certainly isn’t the best blend for my palate at least.

Clearly using more of the brown ale is the key, but I must revisit this one with something like Newcastle, it might be a better exercise give that it’s Guinness and not a more flavoursome stout.

-o-

Snake Bite

The term as used for a mixture of cider and beer certainly dates back to the early 1960s and stout and cider mixed together is mentioned in the previous decade in court newspaper reports, although most early mentions are unclear about whether they were both mixed together in one glass or just mixed in ill-fated drinking sessions. I think there can be no doubt that mixing cider with porter, or stout, happened not long after porter's appearance in the 18th century but I can find no mention of the West Country reference that Guinness claim in any common sources based on a quick look. Guinness mixed with cider most certainly existed before the publication of the Blacklist but from exactly what period is anyone’s guess!

At the standard half-and-half mix this is actually quite refreshing. It has a bitter apple, perhaps Bramley-like, quality that somewhat reminds me of a dry, fancy, barrel-age cider. There’s a little toffee there too, and an earthy spiciness. I’m convinced it would fool the judges in a cider-tasting competition, although adding it would be unfair – if fun.

But at two-thirds cider to one-third Guinness the cheapness of the cider comes through quite strongly, giving just a bare barley sugar quality to the mix if I’m being generous, as the complexity of the half-and-half mix is not there. It is certainly drinkable but not noteworthy in any way.

The opposite mix of two-thirds Guinness to one-third cider isn’t really successful either, with the bitterness of the stout overwhelming the cider to create a bit of a mess of off flavours on the palate. Just harshness with too-burnt butterscotch.

So the half-and-half is the best mix and is actually quite a nice drink!

-o-

Red Head

This is certainly the mix I have been least enthusiastic, but most curious, about trying, as it seems to have been added to the list as either a dare by the marketing department or just something to cause controversy.

I didn’t risk mixing this at anything greater than roughly one-fifth tomato juice to four-fifths Guinness, and I had hoped for something with a vague hint of a Bloody Mary perhaps?

Appearance wise it wasn’t very appealing, with the tomato juice not mixing very well with the stout and the pulp forming ring around the glass rim. As soon as you bring the glass to your mouth your olfactory senses are assailed by underripe Dutch tomatoes. The taste that followed didn’t really improve the whole experience and the whole think left a literal unpleasant taste in the mouth. Cheap stout meets cheap toms!

This was the point where I realised I probably should have strained the juice and added a little something too it, perhaps some sugar and salt, pepper, and a little spice? I added some salt to the glass, causing a brief eruption, and a little sugar but at this point I was really losing faith with the blend as a drink. I had hoped for improvement, if not a bit of that Bloody Mary quality then some sort of dark chocolate gazpacho would have sufficed, but in actual fact all I created was a wave of nausea.

But, I really didn’t want to give up.

So I created a different drink. I salted the rim of a shot glass, put in a splash of the tomato juice and a dash of tabasco sauce, topped it up carefully with some Guinness and downed it.

You know what? It was actually okay! It was perhaps even refreshing and pleasant. A palate cleanser of a sort.

I can’t find any historical references to this drink prior to the mid-seventies but it is worth noting that Guinness have a recipe for a ‘proper’ Bloody Mary using their beer on their website.

-o-

Longship

The history and name of this drink appear to me completely fictious as you might have guessed, and until the modern era their appears to be no record of this blend, although it was most likely tried at some point prior to the publication of the list. There are those who call a ‘Half and Half’ a blend of these two drinks but most would agree that that term refers to stout mixed with a pale ale or a bitter, and more on that, and the dreaded term ‘Black & Tan’, when we get to those mixtures.

First up I should probably have used a Scandinavian lager with the false history given for this mixture, but someone had left a can of Carling in the house so that is what I used here. I first mixed the beers half-and-half (lower case!), and it certainly looked pleasant enough but on tasting it was very obvious what you get if you mix a dull lager with a dullish stout, you get a dull mix. The lager certainly mutes the stout’s dryness and roast character a little but adds nothing of interest in any real way. It’s by no means an offensive drink, just a little boring.

Next I tried it at one-third stout to two-thirds lager and this was much better. You could get a nice cheap milk chocolate quality with subtle cheese-rind bitterness. It was quite like a light brown ale or, at a push, a dark helles lager, if such a thing exists. The whole effect was quite pleasant and soft and something I’d have no hesitation in trying in a bar given the right mood and conditions!

Lastly I tried the mix at 2-thirds stout to one-third lager but at that ratio the stout really takes over and all the lager brings is small bit cornflake-like sweetness. Again, this was okay and perhaps a little more interesting than the half-and-half mix but not a patch on the lager-heavy blend. That is certainly the best mixture for my palate.

-o-

Midnight

Here’s another of what seems to be a tall tale from the Guinness marketing department in London. Apart from anything else it is unlikely that Guinness was ever put into a decanter as an after-dinner drink? Poured into a jug or similar from a cask definitely, but the mention of that Guinness decanter lost any credibility of that story being a real history to this blend.

But the mixture itself certainly did exist. It is mentioned on occasion in newspapers or by those reminiscing on times past including the odd airman during WWII so maybe there is a little grain of truth to one aspect of the marketing here? It certainly is a known blend nowadays, if not too common.

I must admit here to being a bit ambivalent towards port as a drink, I have enjoyed it in the city from where it takes its name but any time before or since I found it too dry or with and unbalanced sweetness on its own. Perhaps I just need to try more port!

Anyhow, I persevered and mixed this half-and-half in a suitable glass, using a tawny port for the experiment, which is my preferred style.

This was a mini-revelation as the stout actually rounded out the port a little, added more depth and a welcome touch of effervescence. It was a small drink and I finished it quite quickly, and as I took that last sip, I finally figured out what it reminded me of? It was those Cola Cube hard sweets from my past, which added a welcome aftertaste of nostalgia to the proceedings.

FYI, I have seen and heard of those who mix a measure of port with a full pint of Guinness but I haven’t tried that, as it might get a little lost in there and also that’s not how it was drank it the illustration. Mind you, I also didn’t decant the stout!

But that goes down as a success, regardless of its history.

-o-

That's ten down, only ten more to go, and nice to finally reach the halfway stage!

More to follow soon ...

Liam K

A Deep Dive into the Wreck of the Mindora and that Bottle of Guinness

It began with a shipwreck.

Late on Sunday night, another fearful collision took place in the Channel a few miles to the westward of the South Foreland, which, it is feared, has proved fatal to both ships. The ill-fated vessels are reported to have been the Khersonese, a very large ship, bound to Calcutta from London, and the Mindora, barque, Captain Hall, also from London, bound to Victoria (Vancouver's Island), with passengers and a valuable general cargo. The telegrams which have been received announcing the catastrophe are rather brief in the particulars. It appears that the collision took place off Folkestone, or rather near the Varne, the ships coming together with fearful violence. The Mindora is stated to have been abandoned in a sinking state seven or eight miles south-west by west of the South Foreland, having then six feet of water in her hold, and that the crew and passengers had landed at Kingsdown, near Walmer. […] Both ships and cargoes are insured for a very heavy amount.

The Liverpool Mercury – Wednesday, 30th November 1864

Such was the sad fate of the Mindora (AKA Mindoro), a brand new barque – a versatile type of sailing ship – that was launched in Sunderland in August of that year, 1864. It was built in the Pallion shipyard of Mr. William Adamson, and was a 436 ton ship measuring 136 feet by 27 feet 8 inches and registered and owned by the Adamson family. By the end of that month, it was being readied to be loaded at London Docks, where prospective passengers or shippers were invited to apply to various agents in the city regarding passage to Victoria on Vancouver Island, Canada of people or product. It set sail on the 20th of November with Captain Hall in charge and a crew of 13, plus 3 male and 3 female passengers¹, plus a fully loaded hold.

The ship was heading towards the English Channel on its westward turn when the collision reported above occurred on the night of 27th of November 1864 in poor weather, and although the Khersonese eventually limped back to London the Mindora was not so lucky. Eventually sinking with all its cargo but at least with no loss of life.

And what became of that cargo? Well a newspaper report in July of the following years² tells us more:

DOVER, July 4. - The Mindoro (barq.), of London, Hall, from London to Victoria, V.I., which was abandoned in a sinking state 28th Nov., after collision with the Khersonese, from London to Calcutta, has been found sunk four miles off this place. The divers engaged report that she is nearly upright, and that the lower masts are standing, but dangerous to shipping, as there are only three fathoms upon her mast heads.

They position where it sunk must have been roughly noted or recorded at the time, and it seems to be in relatively shallow water, with just five and a half meters of ocean over her mast heads. We can also see that efforts were being made to dive on the boat, and yet another report³ in a newspaper's Maritime Extracts gives us the following news from Dover on the 28th of July:

The undermentioned goods were landed here to-day by the divers, being the first portion of the cargo of the Mindoro barque, which lies sunk about four miles off this port:—14 casks of Bass's pale ale; 4 dozen marked “M D O”, from Cameron and Saunders; 8 cases cognac (Jas. Hennessey's), marked “G N”, “E H”, “Twis”; 1 bale linen shirts; 1 basket female wearing apparel; 2 large cases marked “J W” in a diamond “V” outside; also, 2 water casks, and some breakers painted green.

So just a few months after its sinking, divers were already pulling up both drink and clothing from the wreck. The lettering mentioned are intriguing and are perhaps the initials of the end receiver of the goods in Victoria? (The MDO might be an abbreviation for the ship but the other letters would not make sense then?) Also of interest is the Cameron and Saunders mentioned with regard to casks recovered, and more on those names later.

Then in September of 1865, still less than a year after the ship sank, we get the first mention of the focus of this article – stout!⁴

At DOVER—For the benefit of all to whom it may concern.

Important Salvage Sale.

At the STORES in HAWKESBURY-STREET, DOVER,

On TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1865, at Eleven precisely,

By Mr. T. G. BROWNING,

A CHOICE COLLECTION OF CLOTHING,

Consisting of cloth coats, moleskin trowsers, felt and straw hats; also, a quantity of Hoyles superior prints, bareges, muslin curtains, Lenos mohairs, silk parasols; a puncheon of rum, sundry cases brandy, ale, and stout; case of eau de cologne, and sundry other articles;—salved from the wreck of the ship Mindora, sunk off Dover on a voyage from London to Victoria, Vancouver's Island. Particulars will be given in catalogues to be obtained of the Auctioneer, High-street, Whitstable; or of Mr. W. J. IRON, Receiver of Wrecks, 1, Cross Wall, Dover. Samples of goods may be viewed on the day prior to the sale, from Ten to Four o'clock.

Yet another newspaper's Maritime Extract from Dover on September the 29th states that, ‘A quantity of goods [has been] recovered from the sunken ship Mindora, consisting of brandy, &c. The ship lies in deep water’. This report, though scant on the actual salvaged cargo, gives us the names of the ‘diving cutters’ that recovered the goods, Fear Not, Nancy and Mandamus. (One wonders if this is 3 ships or 2?!)⁵

A report in a different newspaper⁶ on the same date gives us an idea of what those good are, minus the brandy:

A Large quantity of WOOLLEN, COTTON, and other GOODS, consisting of about 4,000 pairs stockings and socks, 10,000 yards prints, 500 yards flannel, 4,000 yards unbleached cotton, 50 Macintosh coats, 500 merino shirts, 40 pieces barage, 400 pairs of merino and other drawers, 70 doz. cambric handkerchiefs, 500 yards cloth, 200 woollen shawls, and sundry articles of clothing, woollens, &c.

And there’s even more the following month, when, ‘A Large assortment of Ladies' superior LINEN and COTTON UNDERCLOTHING of the best manufacture, 100 doz. Men's Cotton Socks, 40 pieces sup. Alpaca, about 50 pairs Men's Shoes, and sundry articles’ are offered for sale from the wreck.⁷

And incredibly, the recovery of goods continues, with the following advertisement⁸ appearing in December 1865:

For the Benefit of All to Whom it may Concern. TO BE SOLD BY AUCTION, BY MR. T. G. BROWNING, ON TUESDAY, DECEMBER, 5TH, 1865, At Eleven o'clock precisely, AT the STORES in HAWKESBURY STREET, about 60 Cases of Brandy, Three Cases Wine, One Cask Brandy, 1 Puncheon Rum, and sundry other articles, salved from the wreck of the ship 'Mindora,' sunk off Dover on a voyage from London to Victoria, Van Couvers[sic] Island. Catalogues with particulars can be obtained of the Auctioneer, High-street, Whitstable; or of Mr. W. J. Iron, Shipping and Insurance Agent, 1, Cross-wall, Dover.

That appears to be quite a large quantity of bottles, 60 cases of brandy alone would amount to large consignment to be ‘rescued’ from the bottom of the sea and combined with the other goods recovered and those perhaps not reported it seems to have been a very worthwhile salvage venture.

We are not finished yet as in June the following year – 1866 – someone was yet again diving and landing goods in Dover, with 2 cases of cotton prints and 2 cases of ginger being brought up and reports that the now intended to ‘blow the decks out of the Mindora’ to get at even more cargo.⁹

And last but not least, the following month we get a report¹⁰ that on the 30th of June 1866 that more goods were hauled up:

The following goods were landed by the divers this afternoon:—2 casks bottled stout, 30 muslin curtains, 2 pieces damask, 10 pieces prints, 2 pieces alpaca, 6 stools, and a case of ginger, from the wreck of the Mindora.

Finally we have some more stout being raised and a better indication of how they were stored. So packed into casks not crates.

(There is another mention of stout being offered for sale from the ship but the stock is combined with that from another wreck so it can’t be verified to come from the Mindora.)

What is incredible is the sheer amount of salvage being lifted from the wreck, and that it survived the salt water. Whatever about the bottles and clothing, the ginger must have been well pickled!

It is worth noting to that shipwrecks were incredibly common in this era, as was the loss of goods to the sea, much of it unreclaimed unlike the cargo of the Mindora. There are, or were, probably tens of thousands of bottles of beer sitting on the floor of the oceans of the world, a fair few whose contents would have originated in Ireland, and especially from the Guinness brewery.

-o-

Now we can finally jump forward 161 years from the ships sinking and a story of a diver finding a Guinness bottle (which morphed into 20 in some reports) in the wreck of the Mindora in 2025, which has just recently been reported in dozens of online articles. According to the embossed base, the bottle contains Guinness Extra Stout from Cameron and Saunders, who we might remember were mentioned above in a newspaper report of salvaged stock, and this branding is repeated on the top of the capsule that covers the caged and corked top. As we can see from the older newspaper reports above, a huge amount of the cargo was salvaged from the wreck in the years after the ships sinking including some bottles of stout that we might assume were from Cameron and Saunders given the recent find and the name-check above with regard to casks recovered.

We now know that this is not the first bottle of stout to be salvaged from the wreck so it is possible that no more remain, despite the mention of others being suspected to be there by the diver Stefan Panis. Although it is certainly more than possible that one cask, or crate, was missed during the original salvage and more are somewhere within or without the wreck, waiting for the sands to shift to reveal themselves, or that they were buried deep in the hold and still sit there biding their time for discovery.

Depending on maritime law it is possible that others may not dive on the site in order to dig for what they see as buried treasure, as the site appears to be relatively well known in diving circles.

-o-

The label on this recently found bottle has long since disappeared but this playing card image¹¹ produced by Cameron & Saunders shows a label for such a beer. This might be later than those shipped on the Mindora but it is possible that they are the same design or similar that would have been affixed to the bottles. Images of the bottles from current news reports and social media are typical of the heavy shoulder bottles used at this time, especially for export, although the embossing is a nice touch as is the capsule that covers the top of the bottle and matches somewhat the logo in the centre of the label facsimile shown here. The recently found bottle appears to be pint but is possibly a quart size, so 2 Imperial Pints? Although the pictures are unclear and Guinness's stouts was shipped in both sizes to Victoria according to advertisements from this time. What we can say is that Cameron & Saunders were shipping 'Burton Ale' in Quart bottles packed 4 dozen to a case to Victoria in 1862. This gives us a fair idea of how many bottles of stout were recovered initially, if the 4 dozen cases recovered contained this number of bottles! And, if that consignment from Cameron & Saunders was Guinness Extra Stout and not another beer such as Bass.

Cameron & Saunders operated from 7 Hart Street, Mark Lane in London at this time and were primarily Bass bottlers and exporters. The site, which is now a high-rise modern building, would have been conveniently located close to both Fenchurch Street train station and the Thames for easy shipping of goods by sea or rail. They appear to have commenced trading around 1859 or a little before and were bought out some time in the first decade of the 20th century by a rival company, although as a brand they seem to have lasted until the 1920s.¹¹  They were one of many Guinness bottlers during this period when it was a common practice for companies such as these to purchase beers from Guinness, and other breweries on these islands, in bulk and bottle the stout with their own branding once the design and wording had been signed-off by Guinness in Dublin, and as long as it said it was Guinness's porter in the bottle. (This generally meant that theirs was the only porter they were allowed to bottle.) Of those bottling companies, Burkes was probably one of the more well known, along with Blood Wolfe, Hall, Read, and Moline amongst others depending on the era. Indeed Guinness were shipping huge amounts of their stout porters to England specifically for this purpose, as they themselves wouldn’t enter the world of bottling their own beers for a considerable few years more.

To give an idea of how valuable this export trade was to Guinness, in 1863 the London trade alone for Guinness was worth £64,000 of a total English trade of £213,000, that being over twice the trade of Dublin at £100,000 with the total Irish trade being ‘just’ £341,000.¹² That’s just how important exporting their stouts was to Guinness in this era, and beyond of course.

This stout would have been brewed in Dublin before being matured for 2 years in huge vats and it would have then been transferred to wooden casks and shipped to London where it would have been left to settle for weeks before being bottled, corked, caged and encapsulated. Then it was labelled and packed most likely into barrels/casks, or perhaps crates, with dry straw before being loaded onto a vessel. So that recently salvaged stout is unlikely to date from 1864, and more likely to be from 1862 or before – it's even older than has been reported!¹¹

-o-

As to the beer itself, a lot has been made in the recent news regarding the plans to harvest the yeast from the bottle in order to rebrew the beer. This would be impossible to do from just regenerating or even matching the yeast for a number of reasons, not least being that it probably contained not one yeast strain but several, including less conventional brewing yeasts such as Brettanomyces and Lactobacillus which may have entered the beer either in the Guinness brewery or the bottling warehouse of Cameron and Saunders. These may have given the beers a drier, funkier and more acidic – but still palatable – taste.  They are still used in certain beers today for the same reasons, although it was likely their effect on the beer was less seen as a positive back in the day?!

In order to explain why the yeast is just a small, if important, factor in the beer's recipe we need to look at what exactly constituted Guinness Extra Stout in the 1860s, and luckily, we have a good and reliable second-hand source for that, given that access to the brewing archives of Guinness is strictly off limits to mere mortals. David Hughes in his book on bottled Guinness¹¹ gives us more than an inkling of what the beer was like at this time, give or take a few years.

In 1860 and 1867 Guinness Extra Stout was brewed to 1.079 gravity, a measure of the sugar it contained that would be turned into alcohol by the fermentation process. It probably finished fermentation at around 1.018 or so (or perhaps lower by the time the bottler got it into actual bottles and it conditioned even more in there?) giving an alcohol by volume of around 8% or so, the same as Guinness's current offering of Special Export served on the continent, and not to be confused with the slightly lighter modern Foreign Extra. This level of alcohol would certainly help its stability on its journey around the world as would other factors too. The Foreign Extra Stout brewed in the same years was a little lighter curiously, at 1.076 but appears to have finished lower so may have been as strong or a little more perhaps? Cameron & Saunders also bottled this beer, and labels for it also survive.

The ingredients, although generally the same in certain ways, were quite different to today’s draught nitro Guinness. The barley variety would be different as would the malting process and types of finished grain. Roast unmalted barley is used in the modern Guinness portfolio but this would not have been used in brews at this time. A list from 1883 shows that the malts used were pale (which would have been darker than modern pale malt), amber, and roast. It was more likely higher hopped than today’s versions too, giving more hop bitterness, although perhaps a less roast barley bitter bite due to the use of roast malt versus roast barley, as books on the brewing of Irish porter from around this time state that the 'black' malt was more akin to chocolate malt, so not quite as well roasted.

The brewing process would be similar in one way but radically different in others, with longer mash times and boil times and changes in almost every step compared to modern processes. The equipment used is more modern too, which would effect the brewing. Even the fermentation process differs from today and the use of wooded fermentation, storage, and shipping vessels means the inclusion of ‘bugs’ other than the original brewer’s yeast as mentioned earlier.

All of this means that a beer from the 1830s would be impossible to brew again accurately and the idea that anything could be gleaned from just analysing the yeast is ludicrous. It could be done to a certain degree in collaboration with the Guinness archive who would have the actual record of the brew but it would still probably be a watered-down version, literally. Those who attempt to brew historical brews will always say that they will keep as close as possible to the recipe but with so many variables it would be impossible to say that they were brewing the same beer, in fact it would be accurate to say they definitely are not. And hobbyists can get a little closer than most professional brewing companies where time and materials equate to serious money, so the research, work and recreating of ingredients required would be unfeasible for most if not all.

Any brewery who says they are brewing a dead-on balls-accurate historical brew is more often than not fibbing to you.

This found bottle of beer is certainly hugely important as a historical brewing relic and as part of an intertwined story and the history outlined very briefly above, along with the tangible heritage of the Guinness brewery. But the respreading of this story is more down to the interest and marketing of modern Guinness than anything to do with that history. It’s clickbait for the Guinness obsessed and beer-curious, bandwagon jumping to sell advertising buy the reporters. Although it was of actual interest to those interested in the history of beer in fairness.

And perhaps that is reason enough to write this post. Not a rebuttal, not a rebottle either hopefully, just a recording and reiteration of an important part of Irish brewing history.

-o-

We will leave on a quote from David Hughes’ excellent bible of bottled Guinness.

‘The Guinness of today, be it Extra Stout or Foreign, is younger, lower in alcohol, less bitter, much less acidic, the gas content of the beer and head size is higher, there is no sediment in the bottle, it is brighter when held up to a lamp and crucially it is more consistent in its quality and in real terms cheaper to buy.’

Personally though? I’d love to try a bottle of Cameron & Saunders Extra Stout from a corked and caged bottle.

I might even share some …

Liam K

¹ The Dover Chronicle, 3rd December 1864

² The Caledonian Mercury, 8th July 1865

³ The Liverpool Journal of Commerce, 31st July 1865

⁴ The Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, 4th September 1865

⁵ The Liverpool Shipping Telegraph and Daily Commercial Advertiser, 3rd October 1865

⁶ The South Eastern Gazette, 3rd October 1865

⁷ The South Eastern Gazette, 31st November 1865

⁸ The Dover Chronicle, 2nd December 1865

⁹ The Dover Chronicle, 27th June 1866

¹⁰ The Dover Chronicle, 4th July 1866

¹¹ "A Bottle of Guinness Please" by David Hughes

¹² Guinness's Brewery in the Irish Economy by Patrick Lynch & John Vaizey

Please note, 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 sources, and a link back to this post. Newspaper research and image is thanks to The British Newspaper Archive, who have kindly let me share the above images. Other sources are as stated. DO NOT STEAL THIS CONTENT!

Martyn Cornell’s Porter & Stout a Complete History –The Session #150

Where to start?

When Boak & Bailey, along with Alan McLeod, suggested that we focus on a part of Martyn Cornell’s magnificent tome Porter & Stout–A Complete History for The Session #150 one would have thought it would be an easy ask for me. After all, I’d written on the subject of porter previously and I was a relatively good researcher of facts, if not a great retainer of them. What could be easier? Pick a topic related to the book and write about it …

Simple, huh?

If only.

-o-

Let’s back track a little to when I first started writing about beer history. In the beginning I would consult Martyn’s website or books, as well as those of others, to see if a certain broad topic had been covered, and I quickly came to the realisation that Martyn had covered almost all of what I was hoping to write about on any given subject. I kept thinking back to that old South Park episode where everything that the denizens of that world thought up had already been done by The Simpsons.

‘The Simpsons did it!’ rang through my head but with Martyn’s name instead.

But eventually I stopped checking, as it became a little deflationary, and I began writing just from my own research and by taking a path generally less travelled by other writers. There would be the inevitable crossovers but I just hoped that I wasn’t making any huge mistakes that would engage his, or others, wrath. Anyhow, I've come to realise that coming at a subject from a different angle, or even the same one by a different writer throws up new content and opinions.

I certainly did made mistakes but I found that I was indeed covering some new ground, especially on the Irish side of things and on topics beyond the ubiquitousness of Irish porter history, and carved a little tiny niche in beer history where I still happily sit, albeit beside the giant hall that Martyn excavated out for himself. (Admittedly my efforts to create a bigger more comfortable space for myself have slackened of late, mostly due to blunt, rusty tools—although what is it they say about bad workmen?)

Anyhow, my much better half ordered and purchased Martyn’s book for me, after quite a bit of cancellations and reordering, and when it eventually arrived, I sat down and read the Irish section over a few evenings. And that’s when the issues and self-doubt began again, as he had covered almost every aspect of Irish porter history! As a fan of beer history, I was ecstatic, but as a writer of it I felt, selfishly, dejected and deflated.

Isn’t that odd?

I put the book under a pile of others and left it there, crushed under the beer histories of Cork breweries, pub lore and other vaguely beer-related publications. I wasn’t annoyed with the book by the way, or at Martyn for writing it, I was more annoyed at myself for feeling how I did and spiralling onto a ridiculous ever decreasing circle of self-doubt and self-pity, which is not a good look for a late middle-aged beer writer! Although it is perhaps more common than I think?

Anyhow, there the book remained until Boak & Bailey first mentioned it as a topic for The Session.

-o-

I never met Martyn and didn’t know him really in any way beyond Twitter and then Bluesky, or apart from the odd amicable email exchange. We certainly had some heated 'discussions' over the years but not too many, the worst being on the subject of one of my bugbears, which is the use of the dreaded and incendiary phrase ‘The British Isles’, which is like a red rag to bull to me. I had heard all the geography-based arguments before and I explained my case but we couldn’t see eye-to-eye on the subject, and that was fine in truth.

Generally, I liked the version of Martyn I knew from social media. He could be quite prickly of course but he was supportive of lots of my writing and commented on my posts, often gently admonishing me regarding things he didn’t agree with. He was passionate, prolific, and persistent, and I must say I really miss his input into beer history topics.

But back to his book and Boak & Bailey’s call to arms.

I dug out the book again, rescuing it from beneath an ever-growing stack, and I flipped through the pages with a new found need to give myself a much-needed kick in the backside and find a topic to write about. But even with some new-found energy and enthusiasm it wasn’t quite so simple, as firstly the subject of Irish porter—my general topic of interest in the book—is a vast one and multiple ideas sprang to mind only to flitter away and dissolve as I came to the realisation that he’d already covered it all, or had covered enough of to make me require a deeper dive which I wasn’t quite up too right now.

Then I reread a little nugget that reminded me of an interaction with Martyn, one where he admitted to 'borrowing' my research for his book. An interesting tiny snippet of information that had fascinated me enough to tweet about a while back, and for Martyn to comment on.

Now I had my piece; my connection.

The content of the referenced piece is on pages 81 & 82 of his book and is regarding signage advertising Irish Porter (versus English) for sale in public houses. It was an advertisement I found in a newspaper from 1779 where a sign maker was touting for business. It reads thus:

Transparent Labels for Shops, &c.

ISAAC COLLES, at his PRINT-SHOP

No. 13, Capel-street

CONTINUES to execute the elegant and much admired TRANSPARENT LABELS for SHOPS. The Utility of the above Transparencies are obvious, shewing[sic] the Name and Profession conspicuously at Night, when Shew-Boards cannot be seen. He likewise paints Lables on TIN or Copper for the Day, in plain or gilt Letters.

Said COLLES particularly recommends it to the Publicans, who have resolved to sell Irish Porter, to have these useful Transparencies fixed to the windows, as they can be seen at Night, the Time usually allotted for Porter-drinking.

I put this up on my feed at that time and I got a reply from Martyn.

‘Thank you; stolen!’

So you see I definitely contributed to this book! Admittedly, in a very minor way. (Although I have a sneaking suspicion that he also gathered other snippets and dates from my posts and pieces!?)

The advertisement, which Martyn, rightly, didn’t focus too much on, but might be the first ‘lit’ beer advertising sign in Ireland.

The idea of transparent, backlit signs could be assumed to be a relatively modern invention, but here we have a signmaker purporting to be making some in the 18th century. I decide to do some more digging and seemingly the most common way to create a transparent material in order to write lettering on was to coat thin paper or fabric with a varnish-like substance. You can see how this would indeed create an opaque surface, and certainly ‘transparent’ enough for it to be seen from outside a window in a well-lit public house. Oil could also be used, but that might make the painting of the material more difficult. Or perhaps oil could be mixed with pigment to do the lettering and the words themselves would then be highlighted? (Glass was another option but given the wording used I don’t believe that was used in this case.)

Transparent paper could be purchased readily in England at this time too, and tellingly from a varnish maker, so it was a known practice as advertised in The Bath Chronicle and Weekly Gazette in April 1788

Sadly, I can find no surviving examples of this type of signage but there are a few images of paintings done in such a way on the internet, seemingly there was a small craze for them around the time of that advertisement.

-o-

So that’s my own personal connection to the book. Martyn didn’t credit me, but in fairness he did thank me and admitted he was stealing it!

I also think he may have been baiting me by his use of that term ‘The British Isles’ in the book.

Trust him to have the last word.

Liam K