Literature Archives - Brookston Beer Bulletin

Kurt Vonnegut’s Mile High Malt

November 11, 2018 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of Kurt Vonnegut Jr., one of my favorite authors. I wrote about him when he passed away in 2007 in a post entitled So It Goes: Kurt Vonnegut’s Beer Heritage and detailed his relationship with John Hickelooper’s father and a beer Wynkoop later made based on Vonnegut’s grandfather’s recipe. There were essentially two different beer stories involving the Wynkoop Brewing and Vonnegut, and I’ve learned a little more about them over the past decade.

The first one was in the mid-1990s, when the Denver Public Library held a special event around 1996 (sources vary between 1995-97) called Denver Public Libation to commemorate the opening of the new library. The library partnered with Wynkoop, who invited several well-known authors to write mini-stories to be printed on the labels. Some of the writers included Clive Cussler, Allen Ginsberg, and Hunter Thompson, among others. Vonnegut also wrote something for the event. His piece was 160 words and entitled “Merlin,” and tells the story of “the unfortunate events that ensue when the master wizard casts a spell that equips the Knights of the Round Table with Thompson submachine guns.” Despite its short length, I cannot find a copy of it anywhere, and it doesn’t appear to have been reprinted anywhere else. It’s listed in his bibliography as having only been “Serialized on bottles of Denver Public Libation Ale, made by Wynkoop Brewing Company.”

John Hickenlooper wrote about the story in “The Opposite of Woe: My Life in Beer and Politics:”

The second instance was around the same time, when Wynkoop created a beer with Vonnegut based on his grandfather’s recipe. It was called Wynkoop Mile High Malt.

Vonnegut himself detailed the experience in his 1997 semi-autobiographical novel “Timequake.”

The label artwork was based on a self-portrait by Vonnegut, who was also an artist.

And in the book “Conversations with Kurt Vonnegut,” by Kurt Vonnegut and William Richard Allen, he explains more about his grandfather’s beer.

On November 11, 2007, Wynkoop Brewing Company in Denver, reintroduced Kurt’s Mile High Malt to celebrate the late author’s birthday. The beer was originally created by Vonnegut’s grandfather, Albert Lieber, of the Indianapolis Brewery, using coffee as the secret ingredient. Kurt’s Mile High Malt was first brewed in 1996 thanks to Wynkoop Founder and Denver Mayor John Hickenlooper, a friend of Vonnegut’s. At Vonnegut’s request, coffee was added to the Mile High Malt, making it a close recreation of his grandfather’s original.

Then, in 2014, they released it again for the brewery’s 25th anniversary. It was part of their “Even-Smaller Batch Series” and was even canned.

Myles na Gopaleen, Inventor Of Stout Trousers

October 5, 2018 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of Irish novelist, playwright and satirist Brian O’Nolan, who was “considered a major figure in twentieth century Irish literature. Born in Strabane, County Tyrone, he is regarded as a key figure in postmodern literature.” Under the pen name Flann O’Brien, he wrote two influential novels, “At Swim-Two-Birds” and “The Third Policeman.” In 1940, he began writing a daily column for The Irish Times entitled the “Cruiskeen Lawn,” which trasnaltes roughly as “the full little jug.” He originally started writing it under the pseudonym “An Broc” (the badger) but quickly changed it to “Myles na gCopaleen” and finally “Myles na Gopaleen,” which is the one that stuck. He continued writing it until shortly before he died in 1966. Many of them have been collected in book form, and today I was perusing “The Best of Miles,” published in 1968, and discovered this little gem in a chapter entitled “Research Bureau,” about his patented new “Stout Trousers,” that would allow a person to conceal eight bottles of stout in his pants.

“Before the leaves of autumn fall, the Research Bureau, spurred on by the exhortations of Sir Myles na Gcopaleen (the da) will have provided new patent emergency trousers for the plain people of Ireland. These garments, conventional enough in appearance, will be fitted with long eel-like pockets reaching down to the ankles. The pockets will be the exact diameter of a bottle of stout and not by any coincidence, for they are designed to deal with the nuisance of those brown-paper Saturday-night parcels. It will be possible to stow four shots in each leg. At first, walking in the ‘loaded’ position will necessarily be rather slow and straight-legged but practice will tell in the long-run, which should be undertaken only after short runs have been mastered.

What will happen if a man gets an accidental blow in the leg and has his bottles smashed? Nothing. The pockets are stout-proof and the beer will lie safely in the bottom until it can be syphoned into a guest’s mouth, in the privacy of the home. Indeed, many men, disdaining the rather precious affectation of bottles, will have their trousers filled with draught stout or porter and saunter home on their puffy, tubular and intoxicating legs. Where bottles are discarded, however, one must be careful to avoid overcrowded trams and ‘buses. Should a fat lady sit down beside you and crush you with her great girth to make way for her loud children, great cascades of stout may emerge from your pockets, ascending to the roof and drenching everybody with the frothy brew.”

I’m not really sure why nobody ever made Stout Trousers for real. This photo below is the closest I could find of what I imagine the pants would look like.

Historic Beer Birthday: John Taylor, The Bard of Beer

August 24, 2018 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of John Taylor, who was nicknamed “The Bard of Beer,” although he apparently referred to himself as “The Water Poet.” (August 24, 1578-1653). He was born in Gloucester, and “after his waterman apprenticeship he served (1596) in Essex’s fleet, and was present at Flores in 1597 and at a siege of Cadiz.”

Here’s part of his biography from his Wikipedia page:

He spent much of his life as a Thames waterman, a member of the guild of boatmen that ferried passengers across the River Thames in London, in the days when the London Bridge was the only passage between the banks. He became a member of the ruling oligarchy of the guild, serving as its clerk; it is mainly through his writings that history is familiar with the watermen’s disputes of 1641–42, in which an attempt was made to democratize the leadership of the Company. He details the uprisings in the pamphlets Iohn Taylors Manifestation … and To the Right Honorable Assembly … (Commons Petition), and in John Taylors Last Voyage and Adventure of 1641.

He was a prolific, if rough-hewn writer (a wit rather than a poet), with over one hundred and fifty publications in his lifetime. Many were gathered into the compilation All the Workes of John Taylor the Water Poet (London, 1630; facsimile reprint Scholar Press, Menston, Yorkshire, 1973); augmented by the Spenser Society’s edition of the Works of John Taylor … not included in the Folio edition of 1630 (5 volumes, 1870–78). Although his work was not sophisticated, he was a keen observer of people and styles in the seventeenth century, and his work is often studied by social historians. An example is his 1621 work Taylor’s Motto, which included a list of then-current card games and diversions.

He achieved notoriety by a series of eccentric journeys: for example, he travelled from London to Queenborough in a paper boat with two stockfish tied to canes for oars, described in “The Praise of Hemp-Seed”,[2] which was re-enacted in 2006. From his journey to Scotland in 1618, on which he took no money, Taylor published his Pennyless Pilgrimage. (Ben Jonson walked to Scotland in the same year.)

Taylor is one of the few credited early authors of a palindrome: in 1614, he wrote “Lewd did I live, & evil I did dwel.” He wrote a poem about Thomas Parr, a man who supposedly lived to the age of 152. He was also the author of a constructed language called Barmoodan.

Many of Taylor’s works were published by subscription; i.e., he would propose a book, ask for contributors, and write it when he had enough subscribers to undertake the printing costs. He had more than sixteen hundred subscribers to The Pennylesse Pilgrimage; or, the Moneylesse Perambulation of John Taylor, alias the Kings Magesties Water-Poet; How He TRAVAILED on Foot from London to Edenborough in Scotland, Not Carrying any Money To or Fro, Neither Begging, Borrowing, or Asking Meate, Drinke, or Lodging., published in 1618.

And this is his entry from the Encyclopedia Britannica:

John Taylor, (born Aug. 24, 1580, Gloucester, Gloucestershire, Eng.—died December 1653, London), minor English poet, pamphleteer, and journalist who called himself “the Water Poet.”

The son of a surgeon, Taylor was sent to a grammar school but became, as he said, “mired in Latin accidence” and was apprenticed to a Thames boatman. He served in the navy and saw action at Cádiz (1596) and Flores (1597). Returning to London, he worked as a waterman transporting passengers up and down the River Thames and also held a semiofficial post at the Tower of London for several years. Taylor won fame by making a series of whimsical journeys that he described in lively, rollicking verse and prose. For example, he journeyed from London to Queenborough, Kent, in a paper boat with two stockfish tied to canes for oars and nearly drowned in the attempt. He made other water journeys between London, York, and Salisbury, and The Pennyles Pilgrimage. . . (1618) describes a trip he made on foot from London to Edinburgh without money. In 1620 he journeyed to Prague, where he was received by the queen of Bohemia. His humorous accounts of his journeys won the patronage of Ben Jonson, among others. Taylor also amused the court and the public in his paper war with another eccentric traveler, Thomas Coryate. In 1630 he published 63 pieces in All the Works of John Taylor the Water Poet, although he continued to publish prolifically afterward.

When the English Civil Wars began Taylor moved to Oxford, where he wrote royalist pamphlets. After the city surrendered (1645), he returned to London and kept a public house, “The Crown” (later “The Poet’s Head”), until his death.

Here is one of his most beer-centric poems:

The Ex-Ale-Tation of Ale

Beer In “A Dictionary of Slang and Colloquial English”

August 24, 2018 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Yesterday was the birthday of William Ernest Henley, who was an English poet, critic and editor of the late-Victorian era in England.

In looking for a quotation in his poems yesterday, I stumbled upon another work of his, “A Dictionary of Slang and Colloquial English,” which he wrote with John Stephen Farmer, a British lexicographer, spiritualist and writer. The original dictionary ran to seven volumes and was entitled “Slang and its analogues past and present. A dictionary historical and comparative of the heterodox speech of all classes of society for more than three hundred years.” It was first published in 1890, and they continued working on it until 1904.

They appear to have referenced at least 55 earlier dictionaries, published between 1440 and 1900, in compiling their work. In 1912, a single-volume abridged version was also published, and I worked from that one, further abridging it to include only a few select beer-related entries. The abridged version is only 552 pages, and I can only imagine how long the original is. There’s a number of slang terms still in use here, and quite a few I was already familiar with, but most interesting was a large number of terms I was unaware of before this. So like “The Princess Bride,” this is the good parts version, with a selection of the entries having to do with beer, brewing or drinking. There’s a lot of gems here, and I confess I got lost in the text more than a few times. Read it from top to bottom, skip around, skim it for a few tidbits, but whatever you do, I believe you’ll find a wealth of interesting beer and language history.

A Dictionary of Slang and Colloquial English

(The Good Parts Version)

Abraham Grains. A publican brewing his own beer.
Act of Parliament. Small beer, five pints of which, by an act of Parliament, a landlord was formerly obliged to give gratis to each soldier billeted upon him.
Ale, (1) A merry-making; and occasion for drinking. There were bride-ales, church-ales, clerk-ales, give-ales, lamb-ales, leet-ales. Midsummer-ales, Scot-ales, Whitsun-ales, and several more. (2) An ale-house. Hence alecie (or alecy), drunkenness; ale-blowm (ale-washed or alecied), drunk; ale-draper (whence ale-drapery), an inn-keeper (Grose : cf. ale-yard); ale-spinner, a brewer; ale-knight (ale-stake,
or ale-toast), a tippler, pot-companion; ale-post, a maypole (Grose); ale-passion, a headache; ale-pock, an ulcered grog-blossom (q.v.); ale-crummed, grogshot in the face; ale-swilling, tippling, etc. (1362). (3) In pL, Messrs S. Allsopp and Sons Limited Shares.
Allslops. Allsopp and Sons’ ale. [At one time their brew, formerly
of the finest quality, had greatly deteriorated.]
Angel’s-food. Strong ale. (1597.)
Apron-washings. Porter.
Archdeacon. (Oxford). Merton strong ale.
Arms-and-legs. Small beer: because there is no body in it (Grose).
Audit-ale (or Audit). A special brew of ale: orig. for use on audit days. Univ. (1823.)
Barley. In general colloquial use: thus, oil of barley (or barley – bree, -broth, -juice, -uxiter, or -wine), (1) strong ale, and (2) whisky (Grose); barley -island, an alehouse; John Barley (or Barleycorn), the personification of malt liquor: cf. proverb. Sir John Barleycorn’s the strongest knight;
barley – cup, a tippler; barley-mood (or sick) (1) drunk; and (2) ill-humour caused by tippling; also to have (or wear) a barley-hat (-cap, or -hood) (1500.)
Barrel. 1. A confirmed tippler: also beer-barrel; whence barrel-house (American), a low groggery; barrel-fever, drunkenness (or disease caused by tippling): see Gallon-distemper;
barrel-boarder, a bar loafer. 2. Money used in a political campaign (American politics); spec, that expended for
corrupt purposes : cf. Boodle; barrel-campaign, an election in which bribery is a leading feature: a wealthy candidate for office (c. 1876) is said to have remarked. Let the boys know that there’s a bar’l o’ money ready for ’em, or words to that effect. Never (or the devil) a barrel the better herring, much like, not a pin to choose between them, six of one and half a dozen of the other. (1542.)
Bass. A familiar abbreviation for Bass’ ale, brewed at Burton-on-Trent.
Beer. To drink beer, also, to do a beer. To be in beer, drunk: see Screwed. To think no small beer of oneself, to possess a good measure of self-esteem (1840); see Small-beer.
Beer and Bible. An epithet applied sarcastically to a political party which first came into prominence during the last Beaconsfield Administration, and which was called into being by a measure introduced by the moderate Liberals in 1873, with a view to placing certain restrictions upon the sale of intoxicating rinks. The Licensed Victuallers, an extremely powerful association whose influence extended all over the kingdom, took alarm, and turned to the Conservatives for help in opposing the bill. In the ranks of the latter were numbered the chief brewers; the leaders of the association, moreover, had mostly strong high-church tendencies, while one of them was president of the Exeter Hall organization. The Liberals, noting these facts, nicknamed this alliance the Beer and Bible Association; the Morning Advertiser, the organ of the Licensed Victuallers, was dubbed the Beer and Bible Gazette; and lastly, electioneering tactics ascribed to them the war cry of Beer and Bible I This so-called Beer and Bible interest made rapid strides : in 1870 the Conservatives
were at their low-water mark among the London constituencies; but, in 1880, they had carried seats in the City, Westminster, Marylebone, Tower Ham-lets, Greenwich, and Southwark. A notable exception to this strange fellowship was Mr. Bass [afterwards Lord Bass], of pale-ale fame, who held aloof from opposition to the measure
in question. Anent the nickname Beer and Bible Gazette given to the Morning Advertiser, it may be mentioned that it had already earned for itself a somewhat similar sobriquet. For a long time this paper devoted one-half of its front page to notices of publicans and tavern-keepers; while the other half was filled up with announcements of religious books, and lists of preachers at the London churches and chapels. This gained for the paper the sobriquet of the Gin and Gospel Gazette.
Beer-barrel. The human body: cf. Bacon.
Beeriness (or Beery), pertaining to a state of (or approaching to) drunkenness, intoxicated, fuddled with beer: see Screwed (1857).
Beer-jerker (or -slinger). A tippler: see Lushington.
Beerocracy, subs, (common). The brewing and beer-selling interest: a humorous appellation in imitation of aristocracy: cf. Mobocracy, Cottonocracy, etc.
Belch. Beer, especially poor beer: because of its liability to cause eructation. One of Shakespeare’s characters in Twelfth Night is Sir Toby Belch, a reckless, roystering, jolly knight of the Elizabethan period.
Belcher. 1. A neckerchief named after Jim Belcher, a noted pugilist: the ground is blue, with white spots: also any handkerchief of a similar pattern (1812). 2. A ring: with the crown and V.R. stamped upon them. 3. A beer drinker, a hard drinker (1598).
Belly-vengeance. Sour beer: as apt to cause gastralgia : Fr., pisain de clieval.
Bemused. Fuddled, in the stupid stage of drinkenness: see Screwed: usually bemused with beer (Pope).
Benbouse. Good beer (1567).
Bend. To tipple, drink hard (Jamieson) (1758). Above one’s bend, above one’s ability (power or capacity), out of one’s reach, above one’s hook: in U.S.A. above my huckleberry (q.v.).
Bilgewater. Bad beer.
Bitter. A glass of beer. To do a bitter, to drink a glass of bitter: originally (says Hotten) an Oxford term: varied by, to do a beer.
Black-and-tan. Porter (or stout) and ale, mixed in equal quantities.
Black Jack. 1. A leathern jug for beer, usually holding two gallons (1591).
Blue-cap. 1, A Scotchman (1596). 2. A kind of ale (1822).
Brighton Tipper. A particular brew of ale.
Brown. 1. A halfpenny: see Rhino (1812). 2. Porter: an abbreviation of Brown Stout.
Bub. 1. Strong drink of any kind: usually applied to malt liquor. To take bub and grub, to eat and drink (1671).
Bubber. 1. A hard drinker, confirmed tippler: see Lushington: Fr., bibassier (1653). 2. A drinking bowl (1696). 3. A public-house thief (1785).
Bubbing. Drinking, tippling (1678).
Bumclink. In the Midland counties inferior beer brewed for haymakers and harvest labourers.
Bung-juice. Beer.
Bunker. Beer: see Drinks.
Cakes and Ale. A good time: also Cakes and cheese.
Call bogus. A mixture of rum and spruce beer, an American beverage (Grose).
Cascade. 1. Tasmania beer: because manufactured from cascade water: cf. Artesian. 2. A trundling gymnastic performance in pantomime. As verb, to vomit (1771).
Cauliflower. 1. A clerical wig supposed to resemble a cauliflower; modish in the time of Queen Anne. 2. The foaming head of a tankard of beer. In Fr., linge or faux-col.
Clink. 4. A very indifferent beer made from the gyle of malt and the sweepings of hop bins, and brewed especially for the benefit of agricultural labourers in harvest time. (1588).
Cocktail. 4. (American). A drink composed of spirits (gin, brandy, whisky, etc.), bitters,
crushed ice, sugar, etc., the whole whisked briskly until foaming, and then drunk ‘hot.’ As adj., (1) under-
bred, wanting in ‘form’ (chiefly of horses). (2) Fresh, foaming: of beer.
Cold-blood. A house licensed for the sale of beer, not to be drunk on the premises.
Cooler. 1. A woman (1742). 2. A prison: see Cage. 3. Ale or stout after spirits and water: sometimes called Putting the beggar on the gentleman; also Damper (q.v.) (1821).
Copus. A wine or beer cup: commonly imposed as a fine upon those who talked Latin in hall or committed other breaches of etiquette. Dr. Johnson derives it from episcopus, and if this be correct it is doubtless the same as bishop.
Dash. 1. A tavern waiter. 2. (common). A small quantity, a drink; a go (q.v.).
Dead. An abbreviation of dead certainty. As adj., stagnant, quiet (of trade), flat (as of beer or aerated waters after exposure), cold, good, thorough, complete (1602).
Dog’s-nose. A mixture of gin and beer: see Drinks.
Drinks. The subjoined hosts will be of interest. Invitations to drink — What’ll you have? Nominate your pizen! Will you irrigate? Will you tod? Wet your whistle? How’ll you have it? Let us stimulate! Let’s drive another nail! What’s your medicine? Willst du trinken? Try a little anti-abstinence? Twy (zwei) lager! Your whisky’s waiting. Will you try a smile? Will you take a nip? Let’s get there. Try a little Indian? Come and see your pa? Suck some com juice? Let’s liquor up. Let’s go and see the baby. Responses to invitations to drink. — Here’s into your face! Here’s how! Here’s at you! Don’t care if I do. Well, I will. I’m thar! Accepted, unconditionally. Well, I don’t mind. Sir, your most. Sir, your utmost. You do me proud I Yes, sir-ree! With you — yes I Anything to oblige.
Elbow-crooker. A hard drinker.
English Synonyms: borachio, boozington, brewer’s horse, bubber, budger, mop, lushington, worker of the cannon, wet – quaker, soaker, lapper, pegger, angel altogether, bloat, ensign -bearer, fiddle – cup, sponge, tun, toss – pot, swill-pot, wet subject, shifter, potster, swallower, pot- walloper, wetster, dramster, drinkster, beer-barrel, gin-nums, lowerer, moist ‘un, drainist, boozer, mopper-up, piss-maker, thirstington.
English Burgundy. Porter: see Drinks.
Flip. I. Hot beer, brandy, and sugar; also, says Grose, called Sir Cloudesley after Sir Cloudesley Shovel.
Full. 1. Drunk: see Screwed.
Gatter. Beer; also liquor generally. Shant of gatter, a pot of beer: Fr., moussante: see Drinks.
Growler. A four-wheeled cab: cf . Sulky. English synonyms: birdcage, blucher, bounder, fever-trap, flounder-and-dab (rhyming), four-wheeler, groping hutch, mab (an old hackney), rattler, rumbler. To rush (or work) the growler, to fetch beer (workman’s).
Gutter-alley (or lane). 1. The throat. All goes doum gutter-lane. He spends all on his stomach. English synonyms: Beer Street, common sewer, drain, funnel. Gin Lane, gulf-gullet, gully-hole, gutter, Holloway, Peck Alley, Red Lane, the Red Sea, Spew Alley, swallow, thrapple, throttle, whistle. 2. A urinal.
Half-and-half. Equal quantities of ale and porter : cf. Four-half and Drinks (1824). As adj., half-drunk, half-on (q.v.): see Screwed. Half-and-half -coves (men, hoys, etc.), cheap or linsey-woolsey dandies, half-bucks (q.v.), half- tigers (q.v.).
Half-seas Over. Loosely applied to various degrees of inebriety: formerly, half way on one’s course, or towards attainment: see Screwed. [In its specific sense Gifford says, A corruption of the Dutch op-zee zober, over-sea beer, a strong heady beverage introduced into Holland from England. Up-zee Freese is Friezeland beer. The Grerman zavber means strong beer, and bewitchment.
Half-slewed. Parcel drunk: see Screwed.
Head. (2) to froth malt liquors: e.g. Put a head on it. Miss, addressed to the barmaid, is a request to work the engine briskly, and make the liquor take on a cauliflower (q.v.).
Heavy-wet. 1. Malt Hquor: specifically porter and stout: also Heavy: see Drinks (1821). 2. A heavy drinking bout.
Hedge-tavern (or ale-house). A jilting, sharping tavern, or blind alehouse (B. E.).
Hockey. Drunk, especially on stale beer: see Screwed.
Hot-pot. Ale and brandy made hot (Grose).
Hot-tiger. Hot-spiced ale and sherry.
Huckle-my-but. Beer, egg, and brandy made hot (Grose).
Huff-cap (or Huff). 1. Strong ale: from inducing people to set their caps in a bold and huffing style. (Nares) (1579.)
Hull-cheese. Hull-cheese is much like a loaf out of a brewers basket, it is composed of two simples, malt and water, in one compound, and is cousin germane to the mightiest ale in England’ (John Taylor).
Hum. 1. A kind of strong liquor: probably a mixture of beer and spirits, but also appUed to old, mellow, and very strong beer: also Hum-cap (1616).
Humming. Strong — applied to drink; brisk — applied to trade; hard — applied to blows. Humming
October, the specially strong brew from the new season’s hops, stingo (q.v.) (1696).
Humpty-dumpty. 2. Ale boiled with brandy (1696).
Jerry-shop. A beer-house: also jerry.
John-Barleycorn. Beer: see Drinks (1791).
Kiddleywink. A small village shop; and, 3. specifically (in the West country), an ale-house.
Knock-down (or Knock-me-down). Strong ale, stingo (q.v.), also, gin (1515). As adj., rowdy (1760).
Lager Beer. To think no lager beer of oneself: see Small beer.
Lamb’s-wool. Hot ale, spiced, sweetened, and mixed with the pulp of roasted apples (1189).
Legs-and-arms. Bodiless beer.
Lift-leg. Strong ale, stingo (q.v. ).
Lounce. A drink: specifically a pint of beer: i.e. allowance.
Lull. Ale (1636).
Lush. 1. Drink: from Lushington, a once well-known London brewer: see Drinks. 2. A drinking bout. 3. (Eton College), a dainty. As verb, (1) to drink, and (2) to stand treat. English synonyms: to barley-bree, to beer, to bend, to blink, to boose, to bub, to budge, to cover, to crack (or crush) a bottle (a quart, or cup), to crook, to crook (lift, or tip) the elbow (or little finger), to damp, to damp one’s mug, to dip, to dip one’s beak (or nose), to disguise oneself, to do a dram (or wet), to drown the shamrock, to flicker, to flush, to fuddle, to gargle, to give a bottle a black eye, to guttle, to guzzle, to go and see a man (or — of women — one’s pa), to grog, to have, get, or take an ante-lunch, a little anti-abstinence, an appetiser, a ball, a bead, a bit of tape, a bosom friend, a bucket, a bumper, a big reposer, a chit-chat, a cheerer, a cinder, a cobbler, a corker, a cooler, some corn juice, a damp, something damp, a damper, a dannie, a drain, a dram, a doch-an-dorroch, a digester, an eye-opener, an entr’acte, a fancy smile, a flash, a flip, a forenoon, a go, a hair of the dog that bit one, a heeltap, an invigorator, a Johnny, a jorum, a leaf of the old author, a morning rouser, a modicum, a nip, or nipperkin, a night-cap, a nut, one’s medicine, a pistol shot, a pony, a pill, a quantum, a quencher, a refresher, a revelation, a rouser, a reposer, a smile, a swig, a sleeve-button, a something, a slight sensation, a shant, a shout, a sparkler, a settler, a shift, a stimulant, a sneaker, a snifter, a soother, a thimbleful, a tift, a taste, a toothful, a Timothy, a warmer, a willy-wacht, to huff, to irrigate, to knock about the bub, to lap, to lap the gutter, to liquor, to liquor up, to load in, to look thro’ a glass, to lower, to lug, to make fun, to malt, to moisten (or soak) the chaffer (clay, or lips), to mop, to mop- up, to mug, to peg, to potato, to prime oneself, to pull, to put (or drive) another nail in one’s coffin, to read the maker’s name, to revive, to rince, to rock, to save a life, to scamander, to LashborougJi.
Lushington. A sot: also lushing man and lushing cove. English synoyms: admiral of the red, after-dinner man, ale-knight, ale-wisp, artilleryman, bang-pitcher, beer-barrel, belch-guts, bencher, bench-whistler, bezzle, bibber, blackpot, bloat, blomboll, boozer, boozington, borachio, bottle-sucker, brandy-face, brewer’s horse, bubber (or bubster), budge (or budger), bung-eye, burster, common sewer, coppernose, drainist, drainpipe, dramster, D-T-ist, elbow-crooker, emperor, ensign – bearer, fish, flag-of-distress, fluffer, fuddle-cap (or fuddler), full-blown angel, gargler, gin-crawler, (or slinger), ginnums, gravel-grinder, grog-blossom, guttle (or guttle-guts), guzzler (or guzzle – guts), high-goer, jolly-nose, lapper, love- pot, lowerer, lug-pot, moist-‘un, mooner, mop, (or mopper-up), nazie-cove (or mort), nipster, O – be – joyfuUer (or O – be- joyful-merchant), pegger, piss-maker, potster, pot-walloper, pub-ornament, sapper, shifter, sipster, soaker, sponge, swallower, swill-pot (or tub), swigsby, swigster, swipester, swizzle-guts, Thirstington, tipple-arse, toddy-cask, toss-pot, tote, tun, wet-quaker, wet-subject, wetster.
Lush-crib (or ken). A public house, tavern, hotel, club, etc. English synonyms: ale draper’s, black-house, boozer, budging-ken, church, cold-blood house, confectionery, cross-dram, devil’s-house, dive, diving-bell, drum, flash-case (drum, ken, or panny), flat-iron, flatty-ken, gargle-factory, gin-mill, grocery, groggery, grog-shop, guzzle-crib, jerry-shop, hash-shop, hedge-house, kiddly-wink, little church round the comer, lush-house (panny, or ken), lushery, mop-up, mug-house, 0-be-joyful works, panny, patter-crib, piss-factory, pot-house, pub (or public) red-lattice, roosting-ken, rum-mill, shanty, she-been, side-pocket, sluicery, suck-casa, tippling-shop, Tom-and-Jerry shop, whistling-shop, wobble-shop.
Lushy. Drunk: see Screwed.
Mad-dog. Strong ale: see Drinks (1586).
Made-beer (Winchester College). College swipes bottled with rice, a few raisins, sugar, and nutmeg to make it up (Mansfield).
Malt. To drink beer (1828). To have the malt above the wheat (water, or meal), to be drunk: see Screwed (1767).
Malt-worm (bug, or horse). A tippler, Lushington (q.v.) (1551).
Merry-go-down. Strong ale, stingo (q.v.): see Drinks (1530).
Mother-in-law. A mixture of old and bitter ales. Mother-in-law’s bit, a small piece, mothers-in-law being supposed not apt to overload the stomachs of their husband’s children (Orose).
Mughouse. An alehouse: see Lush-crib (1710).
Mumper’s-hall. A hedge tavern, beggar’s alehouse (Orose).
Nale. An alehouse.
Nap. 4. Ale, strong beer: an abbreviation of nappy (q.v.).
Nappy. Strong ale: also napping-gear. As adj. (1) strong or heady; (2) drunk (1593).
Never-fear. Beer.
Nickum. A sharper; also a rooking ale-house or innkeeper, vintner, or any retailer (JS. E.).
Nippitate. Strong drink, especially ale : also Nippitato and Nippitatum (1575).
Norfolk-nog. A kind of strong ale (1726).
Oats-and-barley. Charley.
October. 1. The best ale : spec, ale or cider brewed in October. 2. Blood. Odd. Strange, peculiar, difficult (1602.)
Oil. Used in humorous or sarcastic combination : e.g. oil of barley, beer.
P and Q. To the P. and Q, to be of the first quahty, good measure (1612). To mind one’s P’s and Q’s, to be careful and circumspect in behaviour, exact. [Of uncertain origin; amongst suggested derivations are (1) the difficulty experienced by children in distinguishing between p and q; and (2) the old custom of alehouse tally, marking p for pint, and q for quart, care being necessary to avoid over- or under-charge. Probably both in combination with the phrase, to be p and q (q.v.), have helped to popularise the expression] (1779)
Perkin. 1. Weak cider or perry (Orose). 2. Beer. [From Barclay, Perkin & Co.]
Pharaoh. 1. A corruption of faro (1732). 2. A strong ale or beer: also Old Pharaoh (1685).
Pong. Beer: also Pongdow or Pongllorum. As verb, (1) to drink; (2) to vamp a part, or (circus), to perform; (3) to talk, gas (q.v.).
Pot. 1. A quart: the quantity contained in a pot: whence as verb, to drink: also (American) to potate; potting, boozing (q.v.); potations (recognised), a drinking bout; pot-Twuse (or shop), a beer-shop, a Lush-crib (q.v.); pot-house (or coffee-house) politician, an ignorant, irresponsible spouter of politics; pot-companion, (1) a cup-comrade, and (2) an habitual drunkard : as also, potfury (also, drunkenness), -knight, -head, -leach, -man, -polisher, -sucker, loaUoper, potator, potster, toss-pot, and rob-pot; pot-punishment, compulsory tippling; pot-quarrel, a drunken squabble; pot-sick (or -shot), drunk; pot-sure (-hardy, or -valiant), emboldened by liquor: cf. Dutch courage; pot-bllied, fat, bloated in stomach, as from guzzling: also pot-belly (or guts),’ a big-bellied one; pot-revel, a drunken frolic; potmania (or potomania), dipsomania; Sir (or Madam) Pint-pot, a host or hostess; pot-boy (or man), a barscullion: whence pot-boydom.
Proof. The best ale at Magdalen, Oxford.
Purge. Beer, swipes (q.v.).
Purko. Beer. [Barclay, Perkins, and Co.]
Purl. 1. Beer infused with wormwood. 2. Beer warmed nearly to boiling point, and flavoured with gin, sugar, and ginger. Purl-man, a boating vendor of purl to Thames watermen (1680).
Red-lattice (or Lettice). An ale-house sign. Hence red-lattice phrases, pothouse talk; also green lattice; red-grate, tavern or brothel, or both combined (1596).
Reeb. Beer: top of reeb, a pot of beer.
Rob-pot. A drunkard, malt-worm (q.v.) (1622).
Rot-gut. Poor drink: generic: spec, bad beer or alcohol: also rotto (1597).
Screwed (or Screwy). Drunk, tight (q.v.). Synonyms: [Further lists will be found under Drinks, Drunk, D.T.’s, Gallon-distemper. Lush, Lush-crib, and Lushington.] To be afflicted, afloat, alecied, all at sea, all mops-and-brooms, in one’s armour, in one’s altitudes, at rest, Bacchi plenum, battered, be-argered, beery, bemused, a bit on, blind, bloated, blowed, blued, boozed, bosky, a brewer, bright in the eye, bubbed, budgy, huffy, bung – eyed, candy, canon (or cannon), chirping – merry, chucked, clear, cfinched, concerned, corked, corkscrewed, corky, corned, crooked, in one’s cups, cup-shot, cut, dagged, damaged, dead – oh! disguised, disorderly, doing the Lord (or Emperor), done over, down (with barrel-fever: see Gallon-distemper), dull in the eye, full of Dutch- courage, electrified, elephant’s – trunk (rhyming), elevated, exalted, far gone, feeling funny (or right royal), fettled (or in good fettle), fighting-tight (or drunk), flawed, floored, fluffed, flummoxed, flushed, flustered, flustrated, flying-high, fly-blown, fogged (or foggy), fou (Scots), on fourth, foxed, fresh, fuddled, full, full-flavoured, full to the bung, fuzzy, gay, gilded, glorious, grape-shot, gravelled, greetin’- fou’, groggy, hanced, half-seas-over, happy, hard-up, hazy, heady, hearty, helpless, hiccius-doccius, hickey, high, hockey, hoodman, in a difficulty (see Gallon – distemper), incog, inspired, jagged, jolly, jug-bitten, kennurd (back slang, drunk), all keyhole, kisk, knocked – up, leary, hon drunk, in Liquor-pond Street-loaded, looking lively, lumpy, lushy, making indentures with one’s legs, malted, martin drunk, mashed, mellow, miraculous, mixed, moony, mopped, moppy, mortal, muckibus, muddled, mugged, muggy, muzzy, nappy, nase (or nazy), noddy – headed, noggy, obfuscated, oddish, off (off at the nail, or one’s nut), on (also on the bend, beer, batter, fuddle, muddle, sentry, skyte spree, etc.: see Flare-up and Floored), out (also out of funds, register, altitudes, etc.), overcome, overseen, overshot, over – sparred, overtaken, over the bay, palatic, paralysed, peckish, a peg too low, pepst, pickled, piper – drunk (or merry), ploughed, poddy, podgy, potted-off, pot-shot, pot-sick, pot-valiant, primed, pruned, pushed, queered, quick – tempered, raddled, rammaged, ramping-mad, rather touched, rattled, rellng (or tumbling), ripe, roaring, rocky, salubrious, scammered, scooped, sewn up, shaky, three (or four) sheets in the wind, shot, shot in the neck, slewed, smeekit, smelling of the cork, snapped, snuffy, snug, so, soaked, sow-drunk, spiffed, spoony – drimk, spreeish, sprung, squiffed (or squiffy), stale-drunk, starchy, swattled, swiggled, swilled, swinnied, swine-drunk, swiped (or swipey), swivelly, swizzled, taking it easy, tangle-footed, tap-shackled, taverned (also hit on the head by a tavern bitch, or to have swallowed a tavern token), teeth under, thirsty, tight, tipsy, top-heavy, topsy-boosy, tosticated, under the influence, up a tree, up in one’s hat, waving a flag of defiance, wet, wet – handed, what- nosed, whipcat (Florio), whittled, winey, yappish (yaupy or yappy). Also, to have a guest in the attic, the back teeth well afloat, a piece of bread and cheese in the head, drunk more than one has bled, the sun in one’s eyes, a touch of boskiness, a cup too much, a brick in the hat, a drop in the eye, got the flavour, a full cargo aboard, a jag on, a cut leg, the malt above the wheat, one’s nuff, one’s soul in soak, yellow fever. Also, to have been barring too much, bitted by a bam mouse, driving the brewer’s horse, biting one’s name in, dipping rather deep, making M’s and T’s, paid, painting the town red, shaking a cloth in the wind. Also, to wear a barley cap, to cop the brewer, to let the finger ride the thumb, to lap the gutter, to need a reef taken in, to see the devil, to take a shard (or shourd), to shoe the goose, to see one apiece.
Shandy-gaff. Beer and ginger-beer (1853).
Shant. A quart; a pot : e.g. shant of gatter, a pot of beer.
Shanty. 1. A rough and tumble hut. 2. A public-house. 3. A brothel. 4. A quart. 5. Beer money; also as verb, (1) to dwell in a hut, (2) to take shelter. 6. See Chantey.
Shearer’s Joy (Australian). Colonial beer.
She-oak. Colonial brewed ale.
Short-pot. ‘False, cheating Potts used at Ale-houses, and Brandy-shops’ (B. E.).
Single-broth (or tiff). Small beer: see Screwed (1635).
Sir Walter Scott. A pot of beer.
Six-and-tips. Whisky and small beer (1785).
Skin-disease. Fourpenny ale.
Small beer. 1. Weak beer. 2. trifles; to chronicle small beer, (1) to engage in trivial occupations, and (2) to retail petty scandal; to think small beer of anything, to have a poor opinion of it. Also small things. As adj., petty (1604).
Sour-ale. To mend like sour-ale in summer, to get worse.
Stingo. Strong liquor: spec, humming ale (q.v.).
Stitch-back. Very strong ale, stingo (q.v.).
Stout. 1. Very strong malt-drink (B. E.). 2. In pl., Guinness’s shares. Stout across the narrow, full bellied, corpulent.
Stride-wide. Ale. [Halliwell: mentioned in Harrison’s England, 202.]
Swankey. Any weak tipple: spec, small beer: also (fishermen’s) a mixture of water, molasses, and vinegar.
Swell-nose. Strong ale, stingo (q.v.) (1515).
Swinny. Drunk: see Screwed: also swinnied.
Swipe. 1. A blow delivered with the full length of the arm; as verb, to drive (q.v.), to bang: hence swiper, a hard hitter, a slogger (q.v.), a knocker-out (q.v.): at Harrow, to birch (1200). 2. In pi., thin, washy beer, small beer: also (schools) any poor tipple: as verb, to drink; hence Swish.
Swizzle (or Swizzy). 1. Generic for drink; also, 2. various compounded drinks — rum and water, ale and beer mixed, and (West Indies) what is known in America as a cocktail. As verb, to tope, to swill (q.v.);
and stoizded, drink; also see Screwed (1850).
Taplash. 1. Bad, thick beer: cask-dregs or tap-droppings. Hence, as adj., poor, washy, trivial (1630), Hence, 2. a publican: in contempt.
Tenant at will. One whose wife usually fetches him from the ale-house (Grose).
Three-threads (or thirds). Half common ale, and the rest stout or double beer (B. E.); three-thirds, and denoted a draught, once popular, made up of a third each of ale, beer, and ‘two-penny,’ in contradistinction to ‘half-and-half’; this beverage was superseded in 1722 by the very similar porter or ‘entire’ (Chambers).
Tiddlywink. An unlicensed house: a pawnbroker’s (also leaving-shop, q.v.), a beershop, a brothel, etc. As verb, to spend more than prudence or custom will sanction.
Tiff. 1. Small beer, swipes (q.v.). Hence, a moderate draught: a tiff of punch, a small bowl of punch; as verb, to drink: tiffing, eating and drinking out of meal time (Grose).
Tipper. 1. A special brew of ale: named after Mr. Thomas Tipper: also Brighton Tipper (1843). 2. See Tip.
Tomato Can Vag. Draining the dregs of an empty beer-barrel into a tomato can.
Top-o-reeb. A pot of beer. Top-joint, a pint of beer.
Toss. As verb, to drink at a draught, to gulp: e.g. to toss a can of beer: also to toss off: cf. Toast; hence toss-pot – a drunkard: see Lushington; tossed (or tosticated), drunk: see Screwed (1660).
Trickett. A long drink of beer. [New South Wales, after Trickett, the champion sculler.]
Twopenny. 1. Beer; sold at 2d. a quart: cf. Fourpenny, etc. (1771).
Upsee-Dutch (Upsee-English, Upsee-Freese). Conjecturally a kind of heady beer qualified by the name of the brew. Hence upsee-freesy, etc., drunk: see Screwed; to drink upsee-Dutch (English, etc.), to drink deeply, or in true toper fashion according to the custom of the country named. Also Upsees (1600).
Water-bewitched. Weak lap (q.v.) of any kind: spec, (modem) tea very much watered down, but orig. (1672) very thin beer: also water-damaged: cf. Husband’s-tea.
Whistle-belly-vengeance. Bad beer, swipes (q.v.); hence indifferent lap (q.v.) of any kind: cf. Whip-belly-vengeance.
Whistle-cup. A drinking cup with a whistle attached: the last toper capable of using the whistle received the cup as a prize. Also a tankard fitted with a whistle, so arranged as to sound when the vessel was emptied, thus warning the drawer that more liquor was required.
Whistle-drunk. Very drunk indeed (1749).
Whistle-jacket. Small beer.

Synonyms for beer (including stout). Act of Parliament; artesian, barley, belch, belly-vengeance, bevy or bevvy, brownstone, bum-clink, bung- juice, bunker, cold-blood, down (see Up); English burgundy (porter), gatter, half-and-half, heavy-wet, John Barleycorn, knock-down or knock-me-down, oil of barley, perkin, ponge, pongelow, or ponjeUo, rosin, rot-gut, sherbet, stingo, swankey, swipes, swizzle, up (bottled ale or stout)

Historic Beer Birthday: Emile A.H. Seipgens

August 16, 2018 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of Emile Anton Hubert Seipgens (August 16, 1837-June 25, 1896). Seipgens was born in Roermond, the Netherlands. He was the son of a brewer, and after school and some failed jobs, joined his father at the brewery in 1856. By 1859, he was running the brewery along with his brother. But apparently he wasn’t happy there, and in 1874 decided to pursue his dream of becoming a writer. Throughout his life, he wrote poetry, novels, plays and much more.

Here’s a translated biography of his literary career, from Literary Zutphen:

Emile (Anton Hubert) Seipgens, born August 16, 1837 in Roermond, from 1876 until 1883 teacher of German at the Rijks HBS in Zutphen. He founded a literary reading companion for his disciples and was a member of the “Circle of scientific maintenance. He lived Nieuwstad A128-2. Seipgens was an outspoken Limburg author. His work – theater, novels and novellas village – is invariably located in Limburg, and sometimes – his songs – even written in Limburg dialect. Some of his best known and most read titles he wrote in his Zutphense period: The chaplain Bardelo (1880), from Limburg. Novellas and Sketches (1881). In this period made Seipgens, who was first trained to be a priest, then was brewer, then teacher, to eventually become a writer, definitively separated from the Catholic Church. He started on the assembly line to write stories, which he published in magazines such as The Guide , Netherlands and Elsevier . One of those stories, Rooien Hannes , had worked to folk drama and staged by the Netherlands Tooneel great success. Later titles are: In and around the small town (1887), along Maas and Trench (1890), The Killer Star (1892), Jean, ‘t Stumpke, Hawioe-Ho (1893), The Zûpers of Bliënbèèk (1894) and A wild Rosary (1894). In 1892 Seipgens secretary of the Society of Dutch Literature in Leiden, and in that place he died 1896. Posthumously published yet his novel on June 25, Daniel (1897) and the beam A Immortellenkrans (1897). Seipgens, which is one of the earliest naturalists of the Netherlands became completely into oblivion, until the late 70s of the last century actually was a small revival. Which among other things led to reprint the novel The chaplain Bardelo and stories in and around the small town , and to the publication of his biography, written by Peter Nissen: Emile Anton Hubert Seipgens (1837-1896). Of brewer’s son to literary (1987), and the placing of a memorial stone at Seipgens birthplace. But this revival was short-lived. If Emile Seipgens remembered voortleeft, it will have to be on the legend of the rovershoofdman Johann Bückler based ‘operabouffe’ Schinderhannes (1864), which to this day in Roermond is staged!

And here’s another account from “The Humour of Holland,” published in 1894.

Why Aren’t There Beer-Barrel Trees?

August 6, 2018 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Today is the birthday of Piers Anthony Dillingham Jacob (born 6 August 1934 in Oxford, England). He “is an English-American author in the science fiction and fantasy genres, publishing under the name Piers Anthony. He is most famous for his long-running novel series set in the fictional realm of Xanth. Although I’m an avid reader and love the SciFi/Fantasy genre, I have not read any of his books. But using Google Books today to search through some of his work, I kept coming across something interesting, that I thought should really exist, but sadly does not: “beer-barrel trees.”

Apparently, a lot of his books take place in “the fictional realm of Xanth,” which is shaped suspiciously like Florida.

There’s a long-running novel series set in Xanth, which is his most popular work. There are currently 41 novels in the series, beginning with A Spell for Chameleon, which was first published in 1977. The most recent Xanth book is 2017’s Ghost Writer in the Sky, and there are at least four more in various stages of development.

One thing I learned is that the realm of Xanth has a very interesting feature:

Plants may bear fruit of all descriptions (pie trees and shoe trees are common) or they may be carnivorous (such as the tangle trees), making travel in Xanth risky.

I remember in the Wizard of Oz books, there were trees that grew entire box lunches and dinner. They were called Lunch-Pail Trees and Dinner-Pail Trees. You’d pluck them like fruit, described as “square paper boxes, which grew in clusters on all the limbs, and upon the biggest and ripest boxes the word ‘Lunch’ could be read in neat raised letters.” In the Dinner-Pail Trees, which were heavier, Dorothy found “a small tank full of lemonade, slices of turkey, slices of cold tongue, lobster salad, bread and butter, a small custard pie, an orange, some strawberries, and cracked nuts and raisins.” That appeared in the third book, “Ozma of Oz,” from 1907.

But in the Xanth series, Anthony takes the concept to new heights, with the various trees providing all manner of things. In “Geis of the Gargoyle,” the 18th book from 1984, for example, there’s a bread tree that grows loaves of bread and growing next to it, a butternut tree. Squeeze the butter onto the bread, and you have bread and butter.

But my favorite, of course, is the beer-barrel tree, which from what I can piece together is a tree with a tank of beer beneath the bark. You can tap the tree, and drink the beer from it. The beerbarrel tree is first mentioned in the first book, A Spell for Chameleon, on page 15, early in the story.

“Bink glanced across at the unique tree she indicated. There were many kinds of trees in Xanth, a number of them vital to the economy. Beerbarrel trees were tapped for drink, and oilbarrel trees for fuel, and Bink’s own footwear came from a mature shoe tree east of the village. But Justin Tree was something special, a species never sprouted from seed.”

And then it comes up again in Chapter 16:

“‘I think we’d better hide,’ Trent said.

Good idea. They went around a beer barrel tree and watched silently.

The thumping became very loud. The whole tree shook. TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP! Small branches fell off the tree, and a leak sprang in the trunk. A thin jet of beer splashed under Bink’s nose. He fell back; even in the human state, he had never liked that drink. He peered around the trunk, but nothing was there.”

In the fourth book, “Centaur Aisle,” they’re mentioned again and also mentioned are winekeg trees.

“Dor soon found himself thirsty, for the pudding was highly spiced, so he drank—and found the beverage a cross between sweet beer and sharp wine from indifferent beerbarrel and winekeg trees.”

And in the fifth book, “Ogre, Ogre,” it’s revealed there are even trees whose fruit will make you think you’re smart.

“You were smart enough to fool everyone into thinking you were ogrishly stupid! Smash, Chem told me about the Eye Queue vine. Its effect wears off in hours. Sometimes its effect is only in self-perception. It makes creatures think they’re smart when they aren’t, and they make colossal fools of themselves without knowing it. Like people getting drunk on the spillage from a beerbarrel tree, thinking they’re being great company when actually they are disgusting clowns. My father used to tell me about that; he said he’d made a clown of himself more than once. Only it’s worse with the vine.”

And this perhaps may be the first mention of chocolate and beer-pairing on Xanth, from the sixth book, Night Mare.”

“The Spy I balls showed the Nextwavers making camp and foraging for food and drink. They were catching on to the bounties of Xanth and now, instead of burning out the “region, they were hammering out chocolate chips from an outcropping of chocolithic rock and tapping beer-barrel trees for flagons of foaming natural brew, to which they seemed to be quite partial.”

By the seventh book, “Dragon on a Pedestal,” there’s a longer passage about the beerbarrel tree.

“Irene looked around. “There’s a beer-barrel tree behind us.” She dismounted, picked her way through the treacherous stones of the riverbed, keeping a nervous eye out for snakes, and went to the huge, swollen barrel of the tree. Now she realized why the streambed was dry—the magic snake had caused all creatures here to drink until the water was gone. Too bad that had not been obvious before!

She used her knife to punch a hole in the bark. Yellow beer spouted out. This might not be the best liquid for the golem to drink, but there was plenty of it, enough to quench the thirst of a hundred golems.

Grundy hurried up and put his little mouth to the stream of beer. He gulped the stuff down insatiably.

Irene watched with growing amazement as the golem swallowed more than his own mass in beer and kept on drinking.

The stream seemed to be flowing into a bottomless hole. His body swelled up like a watermelon, but still he drank.”

I especially like this passage, from the eighth book, “Crewel Lye,” from 1984.

“It was dusk, and I had scrounged up some sugar sand and tapped a beer-barrel tree for beer, the true barbarian beverage. My head was spinning pleasantly, detaching my mind from my tired feet.”

By book ten, “Vale of the Vole,” creatures were using dead beerbarrel trees for hideouts.

“His hideout was in the hollow trunk of a dead beerbarrel tree. He had been lucky: he had been in the vicinity in the month of AwGhost, when barrel trees gave up the ghost if they were going to, and had seen the spirit departing. “Aw, Ghost!” he had exclaimed in the classic ogre manner, and that had enchanted the tree so that he could take over the husk without creating a local commotion. He had cut a door in the fat trunk that sealed tightly so that it didn’t show from outside, and made vents so that the steamy beer smell could dissipate; his mother, Tandy, would never understand if he came home reeking of beer!”

In book twelve, “Man From Mundania,” we learn that the beer from beerbarrel trees in different regions taste different.

“One day Girard spied a new human settlement, deep in the forest. He knew he should stay clear but it happened to be one of his favorite forests, so he remained to see what was going on. It turned out that the beerbarrel trees of this region were especially potent, and the man who was tapping them was hauling the beer to a distant village.

He kept the secret of the trees’ location so that only he could tap them. Realizing that, Girard was satisfied, because it meant that no more humans would be coming here, and it would still be safe for giants as long as they watched out for this one homestead.”

Apparently, using old beerbarrel trees for homes had become commonplace by book 17, “Harpy Thyme,” from 1993.

“They walked on, refreshed, waving goodbye to the nice man. They found a convenient path around a small hill. There was a tree house: someone had cut a door and windows into an old beerbarrel tree and made it into a house. There was no longer any smell of beer, so the tree must have drained some time before. It was surrounded by fancy iris flowers. Nearby were assorted fruit trees, and one spreading nut, bolt, and washer tree.”

This is from 1994’s “Geis of the Gargoyle.”

“They finished with some fluid from a leaning beer barrel tree; someone had kindly provided it with a spigot, and there were some mugwumps nearby with pretty mugs. The stuff was dusky colored and it foamed, but it tasted good and Gary drank several mugsful. After that he felt better than ever, if somewhat unsteady.”

After some absence from several books, in the 23rd book, “Xone of Contention,” published in 1999, beerbarrel trees reappear and are explained again.

“What are those?” she asked, pointing to several grossly fat-trunked growths.

“Beerbarrel trees. Their trunks contain beer They are rather popular in some circles “

“You mean people get drunk in Xanth?” she asked, surprised.

“Some do. I confess I do not understand what they see in such activity.”

A few years later, in 2005’s “Pet Peeve,” which is book 29, we discover there are also ale trees, which are cousins to the beerbarrel tree.

“The zombie brought another bottle. “This will do,” Breanna said. “This is ale, from a local ale-ing tree. They are cousins of the beerbarrel trees.” She popped it open and poured foaming glasses. “This is honey brown ale, because we have bees nearby. We avoid the ones growing near wild oats.”

“Oh? Why?” Hannah asked.

“Because men who drink wild oat ale become unduly attractive to nymphs, and attracted to nymphs,” Breanna said tightly. “And women don’t like it. The ale, I mean. It tastes cheap.”

Goody sipped his ale. It was heady stuff.”

Apparently the beer from beerbarrel trees have medicinal uses, too, which we learn in book 30, “Stork Naked.”

“But the man was not annoyed. “I came to see the Good Magician to learn how to nullify my blue nose. But the Gorgon knew the answer and gave it to me free: I have only to drink the liquid of the beer barrel tree. So now I don’t have to serve a year for my answer.”

Here’s another nice passage about Xanth beer from book 31, “Air Apparent.”

“He walked to an old beerbarrel tree. Someone had installed a spigot in its trunk, with a mug. That was thoughtful. He took the mug, turned the spigot, and got himself a foaming mug of beer. Then he sat down and leaned his back against the tree as he drank it. The beer quickly went to his head, making him reminisce.”

In this book, we also learn that every beerbarrel tree also has a beer cellar.

“I can see that. Did you happen to see any—any bodies here?”

“No, but we know where they are. In the beer cellar.”

“Do you mean wine cellar?” Wira asked.

“This was a beerbarrel tree, not a winebarrel tree. It has a beer cellar.”

The woman and centaur exchanged a look of burgeoning hope. “A cellar!” Debra said.

They inspected the ground, and discovered a square panel embedded in the center. It had a heavy ring set in its metal. They hauled on the ring together, and slowly the panel came up. There was a dark hole below, with steps leading down.

“Time for some help,” Wira said. “Ilene! Nimbus! We need the illusion of light here.”

In less than a moment the two were there. “I can’t make illusions,” Ilene said. “They have to exist first.”

“Isn’t my glow an illusion?” Nimbus asked, gazing eagerly into the hole.

“Maybe it is,” Ilene agreed. She focused, and the boy’s faint glow became bright.

“Still, I had better go first,” Wira said. “I don’t need light, and I don’t want to put the children at risk.”

She closed her eyes and started down the steps.

“This is fun,” Nimbus said.

“It seems safe,” Wira called from below.

Nimbus and Ilene went down, his glow illuminating everything. That helped, because Debra was far too large to join them. “What’s down there?” she called.”

“Ninety-nine bottles of beer,” Ilene called back.

“And some orange cones,” the boy added. “Dodging around.”

This hardly made sense. “Cones?”

“There are words printed on them,” Ilene said. “Nundrum.”

Debra groaned. “Cone-nundrum. A pun.”

“I found the bodies,” Wira called. “They’re alive!”

Debra was so relieved she sank to her knees. “Thank you, fate,” she breathed.”

In “Two to the Fifth,” from 2008, which is the 32nd book, we find out a little more about ale trees.

“This was a beer-barrel tree, with a huge cylindrical trunk filled or partly filled with beer. Or was it? He tapped again, analyzing the sound. No, not beer, but ale; this was an ale tree. Its beverage would be a bit stronger.”

In 2010, it’s revealed in book 34, “Knot Gneiss,” that beerbarrel trees have some odd personality quirks.

“There was an old dead beerbarrel tree in the direction Wenda was pointing. From it leaked a few muffled laughs.

“It got infected with bad humor and died,” Wenda said. “Beerbarrels can’t stand bad taste.”

During a tour of the plant life in Xanth, in book 36, “Luck of the Draw,” we get a sense of how puns work in the realm.

“They encountered a copse of huge-trunked trees with patterns of tightly fitting boards. “Those look like beer barrels,” Bryce said.

“They are. Except these ones are alebarrel trees. Tap them and you get ale. But they’re standard; no pun there.”

“Still, Rachel is pointing.”

They followed the direction of the dog’s point. It looked like a small mint plant growing next to one of the trees. “I don’t recognize this,” Mindy said.

“A mint,” he said. “Next to an ale tree. An Ale Mint. Ailment?”

The plant dissolved. He had gotten it.”

But in the end, the real question is just why aren’t there any Beer-Barrel Trees in the real world?

Ballantine’s Literary Ads: Clarence Budington Kelland

July 11, 2018 By Jay Brooks Leave a Comment

Between 1951 and 1953, P. Ballantine and Sons Brewing Company, or simply Ballentine Beer, created a series of ads with at least thirteen different writers. They asked each one “How would you put a glass of Ballantine Ale into words?” Each author wrote a page that included reference to their beer, and in most cases not subtly. One of them was Clarence Budington Kelland, who was an American writer. He once described himself as “the best second-rate writer in America”

Today is the birthday of Clarence Budington Kelland (July 11, 1881–February 18, 1964). “Although largely forgotten now, Kelland had a long career as a writer of fiction and short stories, stretching from 1913 to 1960. He was published in many magazines, including The Saturday Evening Post and The American Magazine. A prolific writer, his output included sixty novels and some two hundred short stories. His best known juvenile works were the Mark Tidd series and the Catty Atkins series, while his best known adult work was the Scattergood Baines series. Other notable adult books by Kelland include Conflict (1920), Rhoda Fair (1925), Hard Money (1930), Arizona (1939), and Dangerous Angel (1953). Kelland was the “literary idol” of the teenaged John O’Hara. He was referred to in a 1995 installment of Harlan Ellison’s television commentary, Harlan Ellison’s Watching for the program Sci-Fi Buzz, wherein Ellison laments what he perceives as a prevailing cultural illiteracy.

Kelland’s work resulted in some thirty Hollywood movies, including Speak Easily (1932) starring Buster Keaton. Opera Hat, a serial from The American Magazine, was the basis for the film Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936) starring Gary Cooper. Opera Hat later was turned into the short-lived television series Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1969–70), and the movie Mr. Deeds (2002). One of Kelland’s best-known characters was featured in the Scattergood Baines series of six films from 1941 to 1943, starring Guy Kibbee.”

His 1952 piece for Ballantine was done as a reminiscence of his first taste of Ballantine in America, just after a well-played round of golf:

Ballangine is a companionable drink.

With a glass in hand, conversation seems to flow more freely, and even controversial subjects are discussed more tolerantly in a spirit of friendship.

Ballantine Ale does not interrupt, but becomes a charming part of conversation. It seems to belong with pleasant words and valued friends — to be lingered over its thoughtful enjoyment.

When a party of gentlemen gathers for purposes serious or genial, Ballantine Ale becomes a sort of moderator. It seems, somehow, to mellow the atmosphere in tune with its own mellowness. It is the most desirable of all social beverages.

Historic Beer Birthday: Thomas Hardy

June 2, 2018 By Jay Brooks 1 Comment

Today is the birthday of English novelist and poet Thomas Hardy (June 2, 1840-January 11, 1928). Hardy is best known for his novels Far from the Madding Crowd (1874), The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886), Tess of the d’Urbervilles (1891), and Jude the Obscure (1895).

So what does he have to do with beer. Well besides mentioning it in his work, it’s because there’s a Thomas Hardy Ale that was originally created in 1968 by the Eldridge Pope Brewery to commemorate the 40th anniversary of Thomas Hardy’s death, which happened to coincide with the renovation of a pub in Dorchester named for one of Hardy’s novels, the “Trumpet Major,” first published in 1880.

The 1968 nip bottle.

There’s a great quote in the book, which describes a beer, and that was what they used as inspiration to create the beer that bears Hardy’s name. A portion of the quote was on the original 1968 label, but here’s a fuller version of it.

“It was of the most beautiful colour that the eye of an artist in beer could desire; full in body, yet brisk as a volcano; piquant, yet without a twang; luminous as an autumn sunset; free from streakiness of taste; but, finally, rather heady. The masses worshipped it, the minor gentry loved it more than wine, and by the most illustrious county families it was not despised. Anybody brought up for being drunk and disorderly in the streets of its natal borough, had only to prove that he was a stranger to the place and its liquor to be honourably dismissed by the magistrates, as one overtaken in a fault that no man could guard against who entered the town unawares.”

Eldridge Pope created “an ale matured in oak casks, very strong, capable of improving better taste with age.” After the first vintage in 1968, beginning in 1974 the second was brewed and a vintage-dated version was made each subsequent year until 1999.

Another brewery, the O’Hanlon Brewery, picked up brewing Thomas Hardy Ale in 2003, and produced annual versions until 2008. Unfortunately, they went bankrupt in 2011, and reopened later as the Hanlon Brewery.

One of the last vintages, from 2007.

When they began reproducing it again in 2003, a new website for Thomas Hardy Ale was created, and they tell the story of the ale:

First produced in 1968, Thomas Hardy’s Ale is barley wine produced just once yearly, with annual vintages in limited quantities. It quickly became an icon among beer and took on legendary status due to its sudden disappearance. Now, the legend is back…

1968 bottle of Thomas Hardy’s Ale“At the moment, all rights are in the hands of the American importer George Saxon, who – we hope – won’t take long putting Thomas Hardy’s back on the market”, as stated by Adrian Tierney-Jones to conclude his comment on Thomas Hardy’s Ale in the book “1001 Beers You Must Taste Before You Die”. In the words of one of the most famous Anglo-Saxon beer writers, we can clearly perceive a bit of melancholy for the disappearance of Thomas Hardy’s Ale from the global market.

Why such melancholy? Each day, worldwide, tens or even hundreds of thousands of bottles of various beers are produced, yet Thomas Hardy’s was unique. A real, proper icon of beer drinking, almost a cult object.
The beer was created way back in 1968 with one clear intention: to commemorate the fortieth anniversary of the dead of the brilliant writer Thomas Hardy, author of “Tess of the D’Urbervilles” and other important novels. In an equally famous tale, “The Trumpet Major”, Hardy spoke of a strong Dorchester beer, defining it “the most beautiful colour an artist could possibly desire, as bright as an autumn sunset”…

The Eldridge Pope brewery decided to try and create that beer Hardy mentioned in his writing. It had to be a special beer, with a high alcohol content, a consistent and sensuous body and long lasting and resilient aroma, or rather, capable of lasting over time (25 years, according to the brewery). Beer created for big occasions and therefore only produced once a year, left at length to mature in wood and lastly, brought to light in numbered bottles, with the year of production, the batch and the quantity produced clearly visible.

Thomas Hardy’s Ale quickly became hugely famous. The quality of the product combined with its exclusivity was an explosive mix. The individual years soon became the object of vertical tastings, like those held for important Langhe or Bordeaux wines and prices went sky high. However, producing Thomas Hardy’s was very expensive and making it meant sacrificing time and means for beer intentionally produced in limited quantities. In 1999 Eldridge Pope ceased production and, for the first time, Thomas Hardy’s appeared to have been confined to memory or auctions. Its disappearance, however, further reinforced its fame and lovers of this stylish leader of barley wines called for its return. And Thomas Hardy’s was back.

This time, starting in 2003, the O’Hanlon brewery created it. The same recipe, same immense work and the same exclusivity. Another six, prestigious years followed for a beer by now renowned around the world. Yet, for a second time, this excellent beer disappeared. And this time…

Forever? No, the good news is that Thomas Hardy’s Ale is to be revived in all its greatness, while maintaining all its extraordinary and unique peculiarities: vintage production is on English soil with limited quantities produced, its slight hints of dark fruit, turf and roast malt and its flavour that at times recalls a fine port or quality brandy.

The 1990 vintage bottle.

It was one of the earliest modern beers to be vintage dated, at least it’s one of the earliest I’m aware of. The earliest year I’ve tasted in 1977, and I was lucky enough once to do a vertical tasting of several vintages of the barley wine. I still have a few bottles from the early 1990s, including a 1990 bottle, in my cellar. I’m waiting for the perfect time to share them.

As for the future, it’s apparently coming back yet again, this time by an Italian brewery. Patrick Dawson wrote about it in April for Craft Beer & Brewing magazine, with an article entitled The Rebirth of Thomas Hardy Ale.

Thomas Hardy in 1911.

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