Blatant book tarting - The Home Brewer's Guide to Vintage Beer
My "proper" book is out in just a couple of days. I assume you've all pre-ordered it. At least the ones of you with a drop of human decency.
I had been going to say "at least the homebrewers". But my fingers started typing what I was thinking.
Yes, it's a homebrewing book. I know; you couldn't give a fishing fuck about beer recipes. I'm with you on that one. Boring as bollocks. Unless you want to learn about the use of crystal malt in British beers. Er, right. On reflection, not a topic of mass appeal, either.
Right. I remember its UPS (thank God I'm not dyslecix). The UPS of the Homebrewer's Guide to whatsit are the other bits. The non-recipe parts. Where I concisely sum up the characteristics and histories of British brewing techniques, ingredients and styles. Conciseness came from the word count I was allocated. The other bits, from the decades I've spent with my head up history's arse. The odd few hundred days of research.
I've just been explaining to Lexie how the cover is a sort of family history. There's the Milk Maid Stout my Mum drank, Woellnitzer from Thueringen where Dolores grew up, Newcastle Brown from the city where I was born, Greene King Burton, not just a type of beer but also Alexei's middle name and, almost invisible at the top left, a beer from James Hole, whose flagship beer was AK, the initials of both my father and my son.
I'd love to say that it was all by design. Other than the natural bias in my label collection, totally random.
Sometimes people are bloody unpleasant.
The other weekend I had to deal with a particularly unpleasant complaint.
From time to time Sunday lunchtime seems to bring out the most venomous of