Malthouse

Malthouse
Diary entry #49 Malthouse

Verbatim: Also, I got a job at the Malthouse. So I’ve had a lot more new + weird stuff, but have been slack. Picks: Fuller’s 1845; Croucher Pale + Pils; Cock & Bull Dark Star

Afterthoughts, October 2010: From the timing of the guest beers, this appears to be an entry from just after Beervana 2008, which fits with the entries around it. And just goes to show how ingrained the slackness can be, since I started working at the pub a few months before that. But at least, as the previous few photos attest, I was at least definitely trying new things, even if I wasn’t taking my Diary with me.

The only thing that really strikes me is how little of a Beer Nerd I was when I got that job. I mean, I knew my stuff, to be sure. I knew enough about a whole lot of beers to gasbag about them and to make recommendations based on a few prompts from a customer, but I clearly didn’t know a whole lot about the whys and wherefores. But then, there is always more to learn, isn’t there? And you’re probably not doing things right unless the ignorance of your two-years-ago self is faintly embarrassing.

Croucher Pale Ale

Croucher Pale Ale
Croucher Pale Ale

Verbatim: Croucher Pale Ale, from Rotorua, but with none of that city’s usual aromatic downsides. An after-work drink, and a pretty damn good one. It’s a little bit Little-Creatures-esque, what with being a pale ale, but not being a thwack in the head with a fistful of hops. More just a nice big glass of lively, pleasantly fruity goodness.

Afterthoughts, October 2010: If I compare something to Little Creatures Pale Ale, then I like that thing a lot. Just so you know. People too-often ask what my favourite beer is (I say too-often because it’s such a loaded question; for what? for when? for how-many in a row?), but if there has to be one all-time winner, Creatures Pale is likely it. For inherent and circumstantial reasons, like any proper ‘favourite’. But if the dear Critters weren’t so blessedly readily available here in the Little Country, methinks I’d drink bucketloads of Croucher’s Pale.

Fuller’s ‘1845’

Fuller's '1845'
Fuller's '1845'

Verbatim: Fuller’s 1845. Bought for me by a customer at the Malthouse, where I’m now working — not just drinking. And bloody hell is it fantastic. Deliriously smooth, only to explode into an utterly massive malty middle bit (very refreshing when everyone seems to be busting their arse to overhop things, these days), and then a nice mellow afterthing that goes on and on. Full freaking marks, I say.

Afterthoughts, October 2010: As testament to my slackness, even the ‘Lazy entries’ only get their first mention of my new job about a month and a half after it started. The Diary itself only had that fact recorded a little while later.

And to double-demonstrate slackness, I months-later realised that I’d actually had the 1845 some time prior. The customer who bought this for me did so out of shock and empathy for the fact I’d never tried it. I feel a little bad about that, now. But it was a stonkingly good beer. So I don’t feel very bad.

The distaste of extremities in brewing for extremity’s sake that I display here is definitely a continuing theme. I’ve got little time for one-trick ponies and stunt brewing — at least when it tries to pass itself off as the real thing, rather than a stunt. We’ll get to that…

Mac’s ‘Brewjolais’ 2008

Mac's 'Brewjolais' 2008
Mac's 'Brewjolais' 2008

Verbatim: Mac’s new(ish) ‘Brewjolais’, their stab at a pale ale. And it’s a delightful little success, you’d have to say. A tasty, zingy little aromatic number that I’ve definitely taken a shine to.

Afterthoughts, October 2010: Not just a ‘pale ale’, historical-me; a wet-hopped pale ale. Which is a great and all-too-rare example of a big brewery making something properly Out There and Yum. Wet-hopped pale ales are made with the freshest-possible hops, which gives them an awesomely distinct flavour and nose. A few more will pop up in later entries, I’m happy to say.

It’s also a bit sad to note the passing, since this photo was taken, of the brewery at the Mac’s Brewery Bar. That leaves Wellington (currently) without a commercial brewing operation in the City itself — Tuatara is nearest, but still an hour or so drive away. (And don’t ever let Maurice Bennett tell you that he has a ‘Wellington brewery’, either. That’d be borderline fraud. But we might get back to him later.) Given the increased levels of beer-nerdery in this town, I do find that state of affairs rather bizarre and equally sad.

Three Boys Porter

Three Boys Porter
Three Boys Porter

Verbatim: Three Boys Porter. One of very-few good things about Christchurch, these guys make a lovely few brews, and the porter is an especially good way to end your evening.

Afterthoughts, October 2010: Firstly, I can’t believe I actually drank something else after the Skull Splitter. No wonder I didn’t actually write anything down for this one. I probably couldn’t. Secondly, damn the lighting in this pub used to be a lot uglier (he writes, as he sits at the bar after work and tinkers with his webthing).

But thirdly, the Porter Flood. The text on the label reads, in part:

Such was the popularity of porter in old England that legend has it townsfolk drowned when vats at a local brewery burst, flooding the streets.

Which always struck me as tosh. (And there is a lot of nonsense, in the historical ‘legends’ surrounding beer and brewing; we’ll get to a lot of those, eventually.) But I was delighted to discover that I had under-estimated the weirdness of the world. The porter flood actually happened, just a bit more than 196 years ago in London, when the maturing tank (a behemoth of a thing, at several hundred thousand litres) burst at the Horse Shoe Brewery. The ensuing carnage claimed a few lives, and a few buildings. It must’ve been insane.

Since the anniversary (October 17) of the event happens to be so coincidentally close to the time when I’m writing this, a useful piece recently popped up in a local(ish) paper; it’s worth a read.

After-afterthoughts, still October, still 2010: I’ve stumbled upon an excellent beer blog, Zythophile, and found that the writer there has very nicely covered the story of the Flood, in a book of his and a follow-up posting. Even more worth a read.

Orkney ‘Skull Splitter’

Orkney 'Skull Splitter'
Orkney 'Skull Splitter'

At last — he says, after a few days of data-entry — we arrive at the bit where the photo-taking habit begins in earnest. It gets a little patchy with the actual Diary for a while, but they’ll soon synch up.

Verbatim: Orkney Skull Splitter. 16/5/08. $10 @ Malthouse 8.5%. Recommended in lieu of a Tangle Foot, out of a selection of a half-dozen. Dark, forboding, warm, seriously boozy nose. Dark fruity stuff. Datey, in a good way. Heavy, but less than you’d think. Deceptive 8.5%. Sweet. Barleywine-ish, says Barguy.

Afterthoughts, October 2010: “Barguy” in this case is Scotty, the Malthouse’s Bar Manager. I had apparently run them out of Tangle Foot, and we were on the hunt for something suitable to have instead. Obviously we drifted miles away, in style terms, but the winning factor here was that Skull Splitter hails from the same island as my beloved Highland Park whisky.

Orkney 'Skull Splitter'
Diary entry #48, Orkney Skull Splitter
Orkney 'Skull Splitter'
Orkney 'Skull Splitter', suitably blurry

Waiheke ‘Baroona’

Waiheke Baroona
Diary entry #47 - Waiheke 'Baroona' Pale Ale

Verbatim: Waiheke Island Baroona Pale Ale. 16/5/08, 330ml, $4.5, at work, auditioning. Gorgeous curvy bottle; good honest stuff. Nothing too unique. Bubbles vanish quickly. Drinkable and very marketable. If the contract wasn’t fucked, it’d make a great guest.

Afterthoughts, October 2010: Is that really the first instance of ‘bad language’ in the Diary? That doesn’t seem like me. But man, that contract really was fucked. The previously-mentioned genuinely-mad new owner set me to the task of sorting out a beer list, and only after a few days of figuring (and auditions like this and the previous entry), did I discover (from someone else), that she’d signed an exclusive contract with one of the Big Breweries, Lion. So all my work was for naught. Shit like that made me give up.

As for the beer itself, though, this is another small brewery that just can’t get its positioning and descriptions to make any sort of sense. It’s named as a pale ale, but then goes and describes itself as “German-style”, which is horribly confused. For the record, it’s the former bit that’s accurate.

Pilsner Urquell

Pilsner Urquell
Diary entry #46, Pilsner Urquell

Verbatim: Pilsner Urquell. 14/5/08, 330ml, $3. At work, trying to write a beer list for “Paris 2.0”. So this is an audition, really. Five stars in the bible. Good, flavourful pilsner. And it’s the original. So full marks. Too bitter for Chloe, but she can see it’s a good’un.

Afterthoughts, October 2010: Ah, “Paris 2.0”, what a great example of Told You So you are. I worked at a pretty-horrible pseudo-British pub for a while (while back at uni, initially) and when it was eventually sold the I’m-not-kidding genuinely-mad woman who bought it sought to resurrect a mid-nineties Wellington staple that had fallen from fashion and was eventually scuppered for insurance money (leading to the pseudo-British place taking its spot). I told them it was a bad idea, but did my best to give them a Notebook Full of Good Ideas Certain to be Ignored. Ignored they were, and the place lasted mere months before being scrapped again. But that did lead to me getting a better job…

(“The bible” refers to one of Australian writer Willie Simpson’s books.)

Leffe Brune

Leffe Brune
Leffe Brune

Verbatim: A pair of Leffe Brune. Not both for me, honestly. Though I have always usually been more a fan of the Brune than the Blonde. So to speak.

Afterthoughts, October 2010: Like a lot of these at-Malthouse but-not-working-at-Malthouse entries, I was there with some of the people I worked with at the time, at a pretty-awful bar down the other end of town which is probably best left anonymous. For my sake. They did have a decent whisky selection, though. I got to basically be the curator of that, which certainly helped my Nerdery — my CV at the time covered both the beer and whisky bases by invoking the term “Malt Nerd”.

The wedges were awesome. A pain to make, apparently, but awesome. It is kind of a shame we don’t do them anymore.

Tastings and ramblings and whatnot