Thursday evening I had a chance to return to Glenfiddich Warehouse No. 68. Yippee! A proper beer pub at last. A proper beer pub that was open.
Three evenings out with Dolores. That's more than I usually get in five years. I'm not joking. I blame the children
Glenfiddich Warehouse No. 68 (is it me, or is that a slightly unwieldy name?) is much more modern inside than out. Quite trendy, in fact. Dolores liked it.
Like everywhere else, it was suffering from the sunny weather. That's why we sat close to the entrance, to get a little breeze.
This was exciting. A real choice of beer. What should I have?
Sometimes, I just don't learn from past mistakes. Now don't take this the wrong way. Please don't. But I blame the Americans. For buggering up Brown Ale. I quite like Brown Ale. The sweet, malty stuff called Brown Ale in Britain. But there's another type of Brown Ale. The hoppy type, with bugger all malt and not a trace of sweetness. It's like a darker version of Pale Ale. A bit of a waste of time as a beer style, to be honest.
The BJCP has to take some of the blame. They obviously just guessed how British brewers made Brown Ale and assumed that the colour came from dark malt. Even worse, from brown malt. that adds an inappropriate roastiness that has no place in a proper* Brown Ale. Not my sort of Brown Ale. Caramel, brewing sugars and crystal malt. They should be the source of the colour.
And the poor bastards in Scandinavia have just followed the American lead. Producing Brown Ales that have almost no similarity to a proper* Brown Ale.
I rashly ordered a Dugges Fuggedaboudit. Even though I couldn't pronounce the name. I'll be honest, it was the ABV that swung it for me. I should have paid more attention to the ABA after the name. I realised what it meant between ordering and receiving. "Bugger. I bet ABA stands for American Brown Ale" What's wrong with that?" "It'll be like that beer the first night. The horrible one"
It wasn't quite as bad as that. Just not at all like a Brown Ale. I envied Dolores. She got herself a rather nice wheat beer (Helsinge Veteöl). "Do you want to swap?" I asked and let her try my "Brown Ale". She didn't have to say anything. The sucking lemons expression was enough.
We only stayed for the one. Nothing to do with the beer. It was purely a technical public transport thing. We had exactly enough strips on our ticket to complete all our intended journeys. As long as we moved on to the next pub within an hour. The system is very like in Holland. You can travel for an hour after the time stamped on your ticket.
God, that was a dull explanation. I shouldn't have bothered, should I? Just as well I put in the provocative stuff about Brown Ale.
You'll have to wait until tomorrow to read about the remainder of the evening. And I'll be throwing in some more dodgy theorising about beer types. Don't miss it. Could change your life.**
Glenfiddich Warehouse No. 68
111 29 Stockholm.
Tel: 08 - 791 90 90
Fax: 08 - 791 70 70
* the type of Brown Ale actually brewed in the UK, something like this.
** slight exaggeration.
The clock turns over - At 2.25pm on Thursday 28th April 2005 I was sitting at my desk in the basement of Leinster House. Mindful that I'd be beering in Birmingham in a few weeks'...
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