Beer Saints: St. Joseph

March 19, 2025 By Jay Brooks

Today is the feast day of St. Joseph, husband of Mary, and the “legal” father of Jesus. While he’s not the patron saint of brewers or anything beer related, it’s his feast day that marks the beginning of the Frühjahrsbierfest in Munich, Germany. Frühjahrsbierfest translates as “Spring Beer Festival” and it’s also sometimes called “Little Oktoberfest.” It’s very similar to Oktoberfest, held in the same place but is more local-focused and considerably smaller. The modern festival is held in late April now, ending in early May, and this year’s one in Stuttgart begins April 16th and concludes on May 8, with a similar one in Munich over the same dates. But today is its traditional start date and it lasted, I believe, around two weeks.

“Saint Joseph with the Flowering Rod,” by Jusepe de Ribera, c. 1630.

Here is his main description from his Wikipedia page:

Joseph (Hebrew: יוֹסֵף‎, romanized: Yosef; Greek: Ἰωσήφ, romanized: Ioséph) is a figure in the canonical gospels who was married to Mary, mother of Jesus, and was the legal father of Jesus. The Gospels name brothers of Jesus; the Gospel of James, an apocryphal work of the late 2nd century, theorized these as the sons of Joseph from an earlier marriage. This position is still held in the Orthodox churches, but the Western church holds to Jerome’s argument that both Joseph and Mary must have been lifelong virgins and that the “brothers” must have been his cousins. Perspectives on Joseph as a historical figure are distinguished from a theological reading of the Gospel texts.
Joseph is venerated as Saint Joseph in the Catholic Church, Orthodox Church, Oriental Orthodox Church, Anglicanism, and Lutheranism. In Catholic traditions, Joseph is regarded as the patron saint of workers and is associated with various feast days. The month of March is dedicated to Saint Joseph. Pope Pius IX declared him to be both the patron and the protector of the Catholic Church, in addition to his patronages of the sick and of a happy death, due to the belief that he died in the presence of Jesus and Mary. Joseph has become patron of various dioceses and places.

“Joseph’s Dream” by Rembrandt, completed in 1645.

While not a beer saint in the usual sense, I included him because of his association to this German beer festival. Because of his importance to Christianity, he is a patron for a bewildering number of people, places and things, including carpenters, craftsmen, families, lawyers, people who fight communism, social justice, travelers, working people. The places he’s the patron for include, Austria, Belgium, Bavaria, Bohemia, Canada, the Croatian people, the New World, along with Buffalo, NY; Cologne, Germany; La Crosse, Wisconsin; San Jose, California; and Westphalia, Germany. And trust me, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. For the rest, check out CatholicSaints.info.

The Cheerupping-Cup

March 19, 2025 By Jay Brooks

Today, like every day, I surveyed a list of writers born this day and try to find an appropriate quote involving beer or drinking for the day. I’ve been doing this for years and have amassed a fairly sizable quantity of quotations. But today I stumbled upon yet another great word that has been lost to time, or in this case never quite seems to have caught on at all, which is a pity.

Tobias Smollett was born today in 1721 in “Dalquhurn, now part of Renton in present-day West Dunbartonshire, Scotland.” According to his Wikipedia page, he “was a Scottish writer and surgeon. He was best known for writing picaresque novels such as The Adventures of Roderick Random (1748), The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle (1751) and The Expedition of Humphry Clinker (1771), which influenced later generations of British novelists, including Charles Dickens.”

While searching through his work today, I happened upon a great word in his 1771 novel The Expedition of Humphry Clinker, which is described as “the last of the picaresque novels of Tobias Smollett, published in London on 17 June 1771 (three months before Smollett’s death), and is considered by many to be his best and funniest work. It is an epistolary novel, presented in the form of letters written by six characters: Matthew Bramble, a Welsh Squire; his sister Tabitha; their niece Lydia and nephew Jeremy Melford; Tabitha’s maid Winifred Jenkins; and Lydia’s suitor Wilson.”

In the 59th letter of the novel, of a total of 85, which was written by J. Melford Argylshire and addressed “To Sir Watkin Phillips, Bart. of Jesus college, Oxon” and beginning “Dear Knight,” Smollett invented the word “chearupping-cup” to describe … well, a cup of cheer, with, naturally, alcohol in it. Here’s the paragraph that includes it:

When the Lowlanders want to drink a chearupping-cup, they go to the public house, called the Change-house, and call for a chopine of two-penny, which is a thin, yeasty beverage, made of malt; not quite so strong as the table-beer of England,—This is brought in a pewter stoop, shaped like a skittle, from whence it is emptied into a quaff; that is, a curious cup made of different pieces of wood, such as box and ebony, cut into little staves, joined alternately, and secured with delicate hoops, having two cars or handles—It holds about a gill, is sometimes tipt round the mouth with silver, and has a plate of the same metal at bottom, with the landlord’s cypher engraved.—The Highlanders, on the contrary, despise this liquor, and regale themselves with whisky; a malt spirit, as strong as geneva, which they swallow in great quantities, without any signs of inebriation. They are used to it from the cradle, and find it an excellent preservative against the winter cold, which must be extreme on these mountains—I am told that it is given with great success to infants, as a cordial in the confluent smallpox, when the eruption seems to flag, and the symptoms grow unfavourable—The Highlanders are used to eat much more animal food than falls to the share of their neighbours in the Low-country—They delight in hunting; have plenty of deer and other game, with a great number of sheep, goats, and black-cattle running wild, which they scruple not to kill as vension, without being much at pains to ascertain the property.

I confirmed with the O.E.D. that this is the sole instance of the word being used (at least that they recorded) and which thy defined as “Of an alcoholic drink: reviving; comforting….” “Chear,” being an archaic form of “cheer,” that never quite caught on as well as cheer, it feels better with the double-ee’s. And indeed later editions spelled it “cheerupping-cup” as listed in “A Supplemental English Glossary,” by T. Lewis O. Davis, and published in 1881, under an entry for “Twopenny.”

From “A Supplemental English Glossary,” by T. Lewis O. Davis.

And in another instance from a news report in the Stamford Mercury, Friday, July 4, 1823, there’s a story using the word.

The language of love, so much talked of by the poets, prevailed against every remonstrance of friends and even the rage and fury of relations. The happy swain had conquest in his cheeks and will love, cherish, honour and obey. Hand in hand the couple blithely proceeded to the adjoining village of Rippingale where the festive board groaned with the weight of the feast and it also being the annual feast day of the parish, the tabor struck up and the village was gay. Rural sports were the order of the day and the merry dance and sparkling glass went round till night was at odds with morning and the groom, having taken sufficient of the cheer-upping cup, the happy couple retired and after throwing the stocking, the jolly swain was left wrapt in the arms of Morpheus to enjoy (what he most needed), nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep. [My emphasis.]

But doing some more rabbit-hole digging, I discovered it was used earlier with the more common ‘cheer’ spelling, though still not often and certainly not enough to suggest its use became widespread by any means. The O.E.D. lists as an adjective “cheer-upping” with the same definition, “[o]f an alcoholic drink: reviving; comforting…” with a range of use from 1720-1832. They also list a quotation that predates Smollett, from 1733, so it’s likely he wasn’t the first after all. “They … retired to comfort themselves with a cheer-upping Cup,” which is from “English Malady: or, A Treatise of Nervous Diseases of All Kinds,” by George Cheyne, though he remains one of the few to use it in fiction.

But whoever came up with, I still don’t understand why it fell out of use, because it just rolls pleasantly off the tongue: “cheerupping-cup.” Who wouldn’t want, or often need, a cheerupping-cup? I think I need one now. Who’s with me? Fancy a cheerupping-cup?

Historic Beer Birthday: Joseph Priestley

March 13, 2025 By Jay Brooks

oxygen
Today is the birthday of English scientist Joseph Priestley (March 13, 1733-February 6, 1804). While he was also a “clergyman, natural philosopher, chemist, educator, and Liberal political theorist,” he’s perhaps best known for discovering oxygen (even though a few others lay claim to that honor). According to Wikipedia, “his early scientific interest was electricity, but he is remembered for his later work in chemistry, especially gases. He investigated the ‘fixed air’ (carbon dioxide) found in a layer above the liquid in beer brewery fermentation vats. Although known by different names at the time, he also discovered sulphur dioxide, ammonia, nitrogen oxides, carbon monoxide and silicon fluoride. Priestley is remembered for his invention of a way of making soda-water (1772), the pneumatic trough, and recognising that green plants in light released oxygen. His political opinions and support of the French Revolution, were unpopular. After his home and laboratory were set afire (1791), he sailed for America, arriving at New York on 4 Jun 1794

Priestley

In the biography of Priestley at the American Chemistry Society has a sidebar about his work with fermentation:

Bubbling Beverages
In 1767, Priestley was offered a ministry in Leeds, Englane, located near a brewery. This abundant and convenient source of “fixed air” — what we now know as carbon dioxide — from fermentation sparked his lifetime investigation into the chemistry of gases. He found a way to produce artificially what occurred naturally in beer and champagne: water containing the effervescence of carbon dioxide. The method earned the Royal Society’s coveted Copley Prize and was the precursor of the modern soft-drink industry.

Even Michael Jackson, in 1994, wrote about Priestley connection to the brewing industry.

“It has been suggested that the Yorkshire square system was developed with the help of Joseph Priestley who, in 1722, delivered a paper to the Royal Society on the absorption of gases in liquids. In addition to being a scientist, and later a political dissident, he was for a time the minister of a Unitarian church in Leeds. During that period he lived next to a brewery on a site that is now Tetley’s.”

In the New World Encyclopedia, during his time in Leeds, it explains his work on carbonation.

Priestley’s house was next to a brewery, and he became fascinated with the layer of dense gas that hung over the giant vats of fermenting beer. His first experiments showed that the gas would extinguish lighted wood chips. He then noticed that the gas appeared to be heavier than normal air, as it remained in the vats and did not mix with the air in the room. The distinctive gas, which Priestley called “fixed air,” had already been discovered and named “mephitic air” by Joseph Black. It was, in fact, carbon dioxide. Priestley discovered a method of impregnating water with the carbon dioxide by placing a bowl of water above a vat of fermenting beer. The carbon dioxide soon became dissolved in the water to produce soda water, and Priestley found that the impregnated water developed a pleasant acidic taste. In 1773, he published an article on the carbonation of water (soda water), which won him the Royal Society’s Copley Medal and brought much attention to his scientific work.
He began to offer the treated water to friends as a refreshing drink. In 1772, Priestley published a paper entitled Impregnating Water with Fixed Air, in which he described a process of dripping sulfuric acid (or oil of vitriol as Priestley knew it) onto chalk to produce carbon dioxide and forcing the gas to dissolve by agitating a bowl of water in contact with the gas.

And here’s More About Priestley from the Birmingham Jewellry Quarter, whatever that is:

But his most important work was to be in the field of gases, which he called ‘airs’ (he would later chide James Keir for giving himself airs (oh dear!) by adopting the term ‘gases’ in his Dictionary of Chemistry, saying ‘I cannot help smiling at his new phraseology’). Living, as he did at the time, next to a brewery, he noticed that the gas given off from the fermenting vats drifted to the ground, implying that it was heavier than air. Moreover, he discovered that it extinguished lighted wood chips. He had discovered carbon dioxide, which he called ‘fixed air’. Devising a method of making the gas at home without brewing beer, he discovered that it produced a pleasant tangy taste when dissolved in water. By this invention of carbonated water, he had become the father of fizzy drinks!

But perhaps my favorite retelling comes from the riveting History of Industrial Gases:

The relevant findings were published in 1772, in Impregnating Water with Fixed Air

20. By this process may fixed air be given to wine, beer, and almost any liquor whatever: and when beer is become flat or dead, it will be revived by this means; but the delicate agreeable flavour, or acidulous taste communicated by the fixed air, and which is manifest in water, will hardly be perceived in wine, or other liquors which have much taste of their own.

Priestley’s apparatus for experimenting with ‘airs.’

John Updike’s Paean To The Beer Can

March 18, 2024 By Jay Brooks

Today is one of my favorite author’s birthdays, John Updike. He grew up in the same small Pennsylvania town that I did — Shillington — and we both escaped to a life of writing. Though I think you’ll agree he did rather better than I did with the writing thing, not that I’m complaining. I once wrote to him about a harebrained idea I had about writing updated Olinger stories from the perspective of the next generation (his Olinger Stories were a series of short tales set in Olinger, which was essentially his fictional name for Shillington). He wrote me back a nice note of encouragement on a hand-typed postcard that he signed, which today hangs in my office as a reminder and for inspiration. Anyway, this little gem he wrote for the The New Yorker in 1964 is a favorite of mine and I now post it each year in his honor. Enjoy.

Beer Can by John Updike

This seems to be an era of gratuitous inventions and negative improvements. Consider the beer can. It was beautiful — as beautiful as the clothespin, as inevitable as the wine bottle, as dignified and reassuring as the fire hydrant. A tranquil cylinder of delightfully resonant metal, it could be opened in an instant, requiring only the application of a handy gadget freely dispensed by every grocer. Who can forget the small, symmetrical thrill of those two triangular punctures, the dainty pfff, the little crest of suds that foamed eagerly in the exultation of release? Now we are given, instead, a top beetling with an ugly, shmoo-shaped tab, which, after fiercely resisting the tugging, bleeding fingers of the thirsty man, threatens his lips with a dangerous and hideous hole. However, we have discovered a way to thwart Progress, usually so unthwartable. Turn the beer can upside down and open the bottom. The bottom is still the way the top used to be. True, this operation gives the beer an unsettling jolt, and the sight of a consistently inverted beer can might make people edgy, not to say queasy. But the latter difficulty could be eliminated if manufacturers would design cans that looked the same whichever end was up, like playing cards. What we need is Progress with an escape hatch.

Now that’s writing. I especially like his allusion to the beauty of the clothespin as I am an unabashed lover of clothespins.

In case you’re not as old and curmudgeonly as me — and who is? — he’s talking about the transition to the pull-tab beer can (introduced between 1962-64) to replace the flat punch-top can that required you to punch two triangular holes in the top of the can in order to drink the beer and pour it in a glass.
pull-top-can punch-top-can

The pull-tab (at left) replaced the punch top (right).

Originally known as the Zip Top, Rusty Cans has an informative and entertaining history of them. Now you know why a lot of bottle openers still have that triangle-shaped punch on one end.

So essentially, he’s lamenting the death of the old style beer can which most people considered a pain to open and downright impossible should you be without the necessary church key opener. He is correct, however, that the newfangled suckers were sharp and did cut fingers and lips on occasion, even snapping off without opening from time to time. But you still have to laugh at the unwillingness to embrace change (and possibly progress) even though he was only 32 at the time; hardly a normally curmudgeonly age.

updike

Beer In Ads #4665: Batman, Robin & Miss Rheingold 1962

January 2, 2024 By Jay Brooks

Tuesday’s ad is for “Rheingold Beer,” from 1962. This ad was made for the Rheingold Brewery, which was founded by the Liebmann family in 1883 in New York, New York. At its peak, it sold 35% of all the beer in New York state. In 1963, the family sold the brewery and in was shut down in 1976. In 1940, Philip Liebmann, great-grandson of the founder, Samuel Liebmann, started the “Miss Rheingold” pageant as the centerpiece of its marketing campaign. Beer drinkers voted each year on the young lady who would be featured as Miss Rheingold in advertisements. In the 1940s and 1950s in New York, “the selection of Miss Rheingold was as highly anticipated as the race for the White House.” The winning model was then featured in at least twelve monthly advertisements for the brewery, beginning in 1940 and ending in 1965. Beginning in 1941, the selection of next year’s Miss Rheingold was instituted and became wildly popular in the New York Area and beyond. In 1962, Kathy Kersh won the contest and became Miss Rheingold for that year. She was born Kathleen Kroeger Kersh on December 15, 1942 in Los Angeles, California (though one source claimed it was Hawaii). She attended a theatrical school, studying dance and acting. In 1959, she won the title of Miss Junior Rose Bowl, and became a professional model, and later an actress and singer. After her year as Miss Rheingold 1962, she married actor Vince Edwards, best known as Dr. Ben Casey on the TV show of the same name. But they were married for only four months before divorcing, and her daughter was born shortly thereafter when she became a single mother. Some of her more memorable appearances were on Burke’s Law, My Favorite Martian, The Beverly Hillbillies, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and a small part in the film “The Americanization of Emily.” In 1967, she signed a record deal with Power Records, and released two singles. After a small role as Cornelia, one of the Joker’s henchmen, on Batman, she married Burt Ward, who played Robin. That marriage last two years, and afterwards she attended business school and embarked on successful a career in commercial real estate. As far as know, she still lives in Sherman Oaks, California. Unlike many of the Miss Rheingolds, Kathy Kersh, went on to have quite a career in entertainment, appearing in both films and television, and continued to sing and do some modeling as she had before 1962. Probably her most remembered appearance was in two episodes of Batman during season 2 in 1966. She played Cornelia, one of the Joker’s henchmen in a two-part story: Episode 21 – “The Impractical Joker” followed by Episode 22 – “The Joker’s Provokers.” Here’s the description of “The Impractical Joker” episode:

The Joker pulls off a string of key-related pranks throughout Gotham City, then with his magic box, proceeds to snatch a priceless jeweled key right under the noses of Batman and Robin. The Dynamic Duo wise up to his ways and thwart him at their next encounter. However, the Joker has more devious plans to do away with them both before his final caper.

And this is for “The Joker’s Provokers” episode:

After a reworking, the Joker’s magic box holds the power to alter time forward and backward. Batman and Robin learn of his plans to pollute the city water supply, and butler Alfred is sent to take over as security guard at the water works. Alfred nabs the box upon the villain’s arrival, freezing him and his cronies in time, but unwittingly commits a dangerous error when he removes the box’s key.

Kathy Kersh wore a very distinctive costume which was a fan favorite. Here’s several stills from the two episodes. And she got quite a lot more out of this appearance on Batman as you’ll soon learn.

Batman, Robin and Cornelia (Kathy Kersh).

Another signed still showing Robin being kidnapped.

Batman and Robin break into Cornelia’s place.

During the filming of the two episodes, Kathy Kersh became acquainted with Burt Ward, the actor who played Robin and the pair became a couple, getting married in 1967.

Burt Ward and Kathy Kersh at the wedding in 1967.

This article appeared shortly after the couple married in 1967.

This newspaper item from after the duo married.

The Yule Lads of Iceland #12: Meat-Hook

December 23, 2023 By Jay Brooks

By now, undoubtedly, you’ve seen my post last Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 23 — is the day when the twelfth Yule Lad arrives.

The twelfth Yule Lad’s name is Ketkrókur, which translates as Meat-Hook. His particular brand of mischief is using a hook to steal meat.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

Meat Hook, the twelfth one,
his talent would display
as soon as he arrived
on Saint Thorlak’s Day.
He snagged himself a morsel
of meat of any sort,
although his hook at times was
a tiny bit short.

Meat-Hook arrives each year on December 23, and leaves again on January 5.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, from Iceland24:

Meat Hooker, the twelfth one,
Knew a thing or two.
-He marched into the country
On St. Thorlak’s Day.
He hooked a bit of meat
Whenever he could.
But often a little short
was at times his staff.

Another Yule Lad, another story of gluttony. Oh boy, aren’t these dudes a little repetitive? This time is Ketkrókur’s (Meat Hook) turn. He comes down from the mountains on December 23, Saint Thorlak’s Day.
Ketkrókur is cunning and resourceful, even for the Lads’ already high standards of cunning and resourcefulness. What Ketkrókur does better than any other is “fishing” the traditional smoked lamb with a hooked pole.
He’s the tallest of the brothers. That cross of troll, elf and human ancestry gave him a very long and rather stiff pair of legs. Legend says he walks as though they were made of wood, and he has to use a long walking stick to be able to walk properly.
His favorite strategy consists in lowering his hook through the kitchen chimney. He can steal heaps of this Icelandic delicacy using this peculiar technique. If you have no chimney is your festive dinner safe then, you’ll ask? I don’t honestly know.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

The Yule Lads of Iceland #11: Doorway-Sniffer

December 22, 2023 By Jay Brooks

Hopefully, by now, you’ve seen my post last Tuesday with an overview of the Icelandic tradition of the Yule Lads. If you haven’t, go back and read that first so this will make more sense. According to folklore, today — December 22 — is the day when the eleventh Yule Lad arrives.

The eleventh Yule Lad’s name is Gáttaþefur, which translates as Doorway-Sniffer. He has an abnormally large nose, and his particular brand of mischief is an acute sense of smell which he uses to locate leaf bread (laufabrauð), which “is a traditional kind of Icelandic bread that is most often eaten in the Christmas season. Originating from northern Iceland but now eaten throughout the country, it consists of round, very thin flat cakes with a diameter of about 15 to 20 cm (6 to 8 inches), decorated with leaf-like, geometric patterns and fried briefly in hot fat or oil.” It’s also called snowflake bread.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

Eleventh was Door Sniffer,
a doltish lad and gross.
He never got a cold, yet had
a huge, sensitive nose.
He caught the scent of lace bread
while leagues away still
and ran toward it weightless
as wind over dale and hill.

Doorway-Sniffer arrives each year on December 22, and leaves again on January 4.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, from Iceland24:

Eleventh was Doorway Sniffer
– Who never had a cold,
Even though he had a funny
And enormous nose.
The scent of Leaf Bread
He smelled in the hills,
And lightly, like the smoke,
He followed that scent.

Gáttaþefur (Door Sniffer) is a big-nosed fellow that, instead of developing a nose complex and turning to rhinoplasty, used his protuberance to his own advantage.

Gáttaþefur ‘s nose not only is noticeable enough to make any Cirano look like a mere amateur, but it is also extremely sensitive: this dude can smell Christmas delicacies as accurately as a truffle hog. But Gáttaþefur doesn’t care much for truffles. He prefers laufabrauð (the traditional Icelandic bread that is eaten during the Christmas period), cookies and cakes. And of course when he finds something edible he likes, he doesn’t content himself with the smell…

Gáttaþefur will be around sniffing on the night of December 22. Be sure to lock all your cookies in a safe if you don’t intend to eat them all before this darling arrives.

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

The Yule Lads of Iceland #10: Window-Peeper

December 21, 2023 By Jay Brooks

The tenth Yule Lad’s name is Gluggagægir, which translates as Window-Peeper. His particular brand of mischief is being snoop who looks through windows in search of things to steal.

Here’s how he’s described in the 1932 Icelandic poem, “Yule Lads,” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum:

The tenth was Window Peeper,
a weird little twit,
who stepped up to the window
and stole a peek through it.
And whatever was inside
to which his eye was drawn,
he most likely attempted
to take later on.

Window-Peeper arrives each year on December 21, and leaves again on January 3.

And here’s a more thorough explanation, from Iceland24:

Tenth was Window Peeper
A grumpy lad,
Who sneaked to the window
And looked through it.
If anything was inside
Nice to look at,
He usually later
Tried to get that.

Gluggagægir (Window Peeper) is the tenth Yule Lad in the list. He’s one of my faves too. Maybe he actually is the Lad I like the most.
The Window Peeper is a classic figure in literature, music and cinema. If you don’t like the classic window peeper’s approach, just think about James Stewart in Rear Window, but reversed.
There are many elements at play when this kind of characters are involved so I can safely say Gluggagægir is the Lad with more potential: with a little of invention you could have a whole series of Christmas thrillers or horrors made after him.
Some consider Gluggagægir just a very nosy guy, but completely harmless – although he does like to steal when something he sees arouses his fancy. Some others prefer to add a sinister aura to his curiosity, describing him as a hardcore voyeur…
Whatever the truth, you are now aware of his habit of peeping through windows at night. So, unless you’re OK with it, maybe you’ll feel more comfortable drawing your curtains on December 21.
So, this guy may be looking in your window between Dec 21 and Jan 3, so give him a friendly wave and wish him Gleðileg Jól (Happy Holidays)

The 13 Yule Lads, Mom, Dad and Cat:

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