Brewing at home in the 1830's

I don’t know if it’s just me, but when I have a question about brewing and rely on google for an answer, I normally scan past a few forum topics if more than a few years old in the hope of finding something a little more recent. Silly really as brewing has been practised for millennia that my instincts take me away from a post just because it was created in 2012! That said, brewing has come a long way in a short space of time.

It got me thinking about brewing from years passed so I got hold of a book from 1830 – surely they didn’t really know what they were doing by our picky standards? Surely the lack of knowledge about cleaning meant that most beers turned out with what we would regard as off-flavours? Surely they could make a decent pint without knowing what yeast is?

The book I got hold of was snappily titled sixth edition of “A practical treatise on breeding, rearing, and fattening, all kinds of domestic poultry ... and instructions for the private brewery” by Bonington Moubray Esq. so it wasn’t really a brewing book as such, but I chose it because it thought it would give a more interesting insight into brewing at home, which is of course where my curiosity lies. 

George IV King of England in 1830

Firstly, think about this for a minute - This book was written in 1830! In 1830, the King of England was George IV, Slavery had yet to be abolished, almost everyone walked or travel by horse and cart because rail travel was in its infancy, the mean life expectancy in London was 37 and really crucial to brewing, this was years before people had running water in their homes. Having a communal water pump between 20 or 30 families was about as much as you could hope for unless you were of the upper classes – Imagine brewing now and not having access to running water. Not only that, but imagine brewing in massive quantities (by our standards) and having to pump it all by hand!  A “middling family who have room” brewed 44 gallons of “good beer” and 27 gallons of “small beer” at a time! In 1830, pretty much everyone drank beer. It was beer, tea or milk really – you wouldn’t want to trust the water too much – Cholera was still a big, big killer back then.

Tax was horrifically high and was calculated from the amount of malt used in a beer. For years breweries had looked for ways to reduce the malt content and substituted it with anything from potatoes to coriander. An observation made in Parliament was that the malt consumption was two thirds less than in 1773, despite a large boom in population! Along the way, chemists became more influential in beers composition and as well as using fermentable ingredients to boost the alcohol content, all kinds of herbs and chemicals were put into the concoction. It is suspected that Coculus Indicus (Indian Berry – described as a poisonous climbing plant and now used as an ointment for killing lice) was commonly used and there are several references of opium being used. I know from other sources that beer was marketed as “home brewed” by big breweries many years later, which seems absurd now, given the poor reputation that mass home brewing picked up in the 70’s and 80’s which is still not quite shaken off with the general public, but given the adulteration of beers from this time, you can see why it would be desirable to drink home brew for many.

Now; the author was without doubt a beer nut! It was clear he held these adulteration's in great disdain, more so that because they had long been practiced and it had captured the taste of the nation to the point where beers made from only malt hops and water were scoffed at, despite their being “most nutritious and wholesome”. He would almost certainly have a CAMRA membership if he was alive today. These days, of course, we don’t have heroin derivatives in our beer, but there are some similarities with many inferior quality beers (subjective, I know) commanding the bulk of the market to the bemusement of the enthusiast. So brewing at home was clearly a big passion for some. Not only was it half the price, but the brewer could be sure he avoided ingesting noxious chemicals – what a motivation! Of course, it’s a big job without gas or electric and as getting the water was tough employment too, it was far from commonplace.

Ingredients;

This section will command a much lesser space than the equivalent list from today. The book lacks recipes, because there are so few options presumably. There’s malt – white, pale, amber and brown (but the use of white has declined significantly by that time) but no mention of varieties other than a commendation for malt produced in Hertfordshire. Wheat and oats are referred to favourably but are seldom used. Here, the author describes beers made from wheat and oats;

 “Wheat malt produces a strong-bodied, fine, and high-flavoured liquor; oats, a light, mild, and pleasant beverage. I have heard much commendations of oat-ale, as a summer drink, but have never tasted it.”

The days of gruit had passed so hops had long been in use although there were still substitutions like “Wormwood, sweet flag (calamus aromaticus}, horehound, green broom, marsh trefoil, buckbean,

succotrine aloes, quassia, the Indian bitter bean.” Like malt, they are referred to mainly generically as “hops”; the exception being Farnham Hops, an ancestor of the Golding family. Hops were recognised for their medical benefits as well as the more obvious preservative and flavouring ones. There is mention of the notion of hops causing kidney stones, but disregarded in place of hard water being the culprit and in fact praised for diuretic properties. The bittering power of the hop was known to come from an acid and hop oils were mentioned - of course this was well before alpha or beta acids and oils such as lupulin were talked about.  I’m not sure why but I was surprised to hear of the use of dry hops, though not using this term and only really in beers brewed for keeping rather than being drank young.

Water is talked about with the preferred type to bring out the taste in hops as pale. London Porter was very much in vogue at the time and the suitability of the water is in the metropolis was mentioned as favourable.

Knowing that Louis Pasteur “discovered” yeast much later in the century, I was surprised to read so much about yeast in this book. Although it’s not referred to in any scientific detail, it was known that yeast is the life of the fermentation how to propagate it for the next batch. Encouraging spontaneous fermentation is described below;

“It is recommended to remove the beer, hops and all, immediately from the copper, and, as I understand, hot as it may be, to the casks, which are left open to produce the spontaneous fermentation, no yeast being used.”

It’s interesting that it was best practise to transfer to open casks just after boiling as we know now that it would sanitise the fermenting vessel. I wonder whether this was the suspicion then, or if it was just that trial and error showed them it’s less likely to go bad if it goes in hot – maybe it was just the most convenient way of working. The book doesn’t detail yeast as a product, or say specifically in what form yeast is pitched but later in the book top cropping is described although it doesn’t specify this is the source of the yeast for future batches I think it is likely.

Process;

Heating water to a boil and allowed to cool to strike temperature was recommended. At this time, a thermometer was rarely seen in the brewhouse so “the rule of LOOKING-GLASS or FINGER” was employed. This is where the brewer waits until the water has cooled sufficiently to see their reflection in the water (apparently the heat and steam prevents this at higher temperatures) or until it has cooled enough for it not to scold your finger when dipped into the liquor. Hardly scientific but it must have worked okay!

So with the strike water heated, the malt is added and thoroughly mixed. What we would refer to today as a batch sparge is described, but creating a Parti-gyle brew. The first running’s to create a “Good Ale” and second a “small beer”. It is mentioned that you can make a full batch of small beer using much less malt and the quality will be much greater than using the second running’s of a typical batch. The first running’s are left to mash for two to two and a half hours, then vorlaufing before being drawn of from a false bottom or filter and filled up again. This time it’s left for ninety minutes before being collected with a little more liquor added just before running dry. Something didn’t quite stack up with the numbers described – the good beer commanding many more gallons than the small beer but the liquor used being more even. I suspect that some of the second running’s are blended with the first to reach the desired strength and volume of each.

Hops are either added before or as boiling commences (interesting that first wort hopping was

copper of the link used in this time

employed 187 years ago) and the following interesting premise is one of those observed for economising hop usage;

“Some persons are curious enough to make a previous infusion of the hops for an hour or two, in boiling water, pouring the infusion into the first wort, and leaving the residue to be boiled in the second.”

Once boiled for an hour or until a break is achieved, the wort is either transferred hot in to barrels for spontaneous fermentation (as descri

bed above) or moved into a vessel to cool to “blood temperature” before pitching about 4ml of yeast per gallon (by today’s measurements) presumably of slurry or top cropped from a previous batch. Less yeast is used in the summer. It’s kept there for just 24-48 hours before being moved to casks, along with a handful of hops for “keeping beers” where secondary fermentation takes place for 3 or 4 days before knocking in the bung and storing until served.

It’s an interesting idea, filling the cask gradually. Presumably it’s an alternative to today’s method of racking a couple of points above final gravity in order to condition naturally. You would know more accurately when the fermentation has almost ceased and the seal the cask. The good ale is stored for a few months before serving and the small beer can be consumed after just a few days in the cask.

A Saccharometer is referred to which I believe is just another name for hydrometer but presumably the author did not have access to one due to the omission of any details regarding gravity. For the author of a book which reached 8 editions not to have access to what we regard as basic equipment is surprising. Interestingly, the difference in weight between wort and water is quoted – It had never occurred to me that you could measure the weight of a pint to indicate sugar content.

We hear so often that cleanliness is next to godliness when it comes to brewing beer which is where I imagined brewing from this time would fall down. Not so – there are many references to thoroughly cleaning all equipment, particularly the fermentation gear. This paragraph was a really insightful method of cleaning a cask that had turned musty;

Stone bottles were
occasionally used

“fill the cask with boiling water, not quite to the brim, put in some pieces of unslacked stone-lime, which will immediately cause an effervescence, like the boiling of a copper; but this must not be continued more than half an hour, or the lime may prove as bad as the must. The effervescence over, bung down, but wash out before the liquor be quite cold.”

So not only was the cleaning well observed by Mr Moubray’s suggestion, but he even used “unslacked stone-lime” in boiling water, which an online search tells me is referred to as calcium hydroxide, used today as a disinfectant. Using slaked lime is of course a common way of increasing alkalinity in brewing water.

There was even a troubleshooting section in the book and if it works, perhaps an ingenious way of rescuing a bad batch. He refers to a “pricked or acid” spoilt beer, which presumably is one which has caught a wild yeast or bacterial infection souring the beer.  His suggestion is to waiting until the mash tun (he actually uses the term “mash tub”) of a fresh batch has been fully drained after the second running’s and mixing the spoiled beer with the now spent grains and drain straight away into a fresh cask along with the spent hops and perhaps some fresh ones. Apparently the sourness is left behind in the spent grains and the batch is rescued. The small amount of sugar picked up along the way should allow some co2 to be produced in the cask, one would imagine.

So in conclusion – I’m really amazed at how little things have really changed in the last 187 years. Obviously technology and science have allowed us to be more exact, efficient, consistent and less likely to get infections, but they definitely knew what they were doing in 1830, even if the scientific data wasn’t there to quantify it as readily as we can today. I’ll think twice next time I skip past a helpful post from 2012.