PGI status - II

The nice chap at the ministry returned my call this morning and set about setting us straight on the 'Kentish ale' and 'Kentish strong ale' PGI (protected geographical indicator) status. It appears the rules have changed between 1995 and now, and that those applications filed and approved before this change are waiting in line to be updated to the shiny new standards.

But what is the detail hiding in this bureaucratic explanation, I hear you mutter? Well, it turns out that the early versions of applications had only the summary publicly published and that the nitty gritty detailed definition was hidden to us proletariat, the knowledge being shared between the applicant and the manager only. Basically, I can't find out what constitutes a 'Kentish ale' until the definition has been made suitable for public release.

After that I'll be in a position to request an ammendment, should I disagree with the definition (highly unlikely) or apply to use a (presumably) natty little logo on my labels. In the meantime you'll have to trust me when I tell you our beer is Kentish, or beer of Kent. It is. Really.

PGI status

My friends up the road in Faversham were successful in their application for PGI status on 'Kentish ale' and 'Kentish strong ale' back in 1995. The paperwork is brief, light on detail and surprisingly unspecific as to what defines 'Kentish' so I've written to the particular controlling body asking for clarification. I'll let you know.........

Down hopping, again.

Coastal East Kent was shrouded in a sea mist at dawn this morning as Chelsea and I tramped through the hop gardens at Brooke Farm in Shatterling. We were out checking on the harvest again and to have the craic with wit, raconteur and grumpy old bastard Humphrey, the big man in these rural parts. The hops themselves were looking pretty good considering the droughtful conditions under which they grew - East Kent was particularly dry this summer and for a few weeks all were fearful of a failed crop. Anyway, we got a bit of rain just in the nick of time, the sun shone and now all the Goldings are in and packed, smelling better than they look and better than last year. We're a bit light on yield (price goes up) but we've got some quality to brew with (we charge more).

From Hop Gardens

The sun took no time at all to burn off the mist and it's another fine day in paradise.

Oatmeal Stout

October looms and here in the Garden of England we're finding our thoughts leaning towards the dark side. Creamy, rich, luxuriant and very, very dark.

Malted oats in the grist provide a palate smoothness and a homely aroma; roasted barley and black malt give colour, flavour and aroma. Fuggles hops we use only for a decent level of bitterness, there being no other area of employment open to the hop in this style of beer: it's the malts, and only the malts, that we're after here. The hops do a job, and although it's an essential job without which there'd be no beer it is, nevertheless, a backroom job. The main event is roasty, toasty, chocolaty smoothness with hints of orange and porridge.

Luxury.

Next episode: Broadstairs Food Festival

Rye PA

Ok, ok so I've been absent. Or infrequent. Delinquent perhaps. It's been busy, alright?

September, as you've guessed from the previous post, is a glorious affair here in the garden of England and as such I've created a suitably autumnal ale, one that contains a bit of sunshine and an touch of harvest: Rye PA.

Canterbury grown Bramling Cross hops provide a fresh green character, some blackberry notes and a spicy tingling bitterness on the side of the tongue; pale malted rye comes to the party with a spicy dryness and is accompanied by a subtle, smooth, palate-filling honey character (care of caragold malt). All in all a lovely fresh, brisk pale ale begging to be drunk in quenching quantity after a day in fields.

Perfect accompaniment: ploughman's lunch, what else?

Next episode: oatmeal stout.

September, the finest of months.

News for all you poor Northerners is that the weather down here in the Garden of England is blisteringly hot, dry, and calm. Perfect for finishing off the hops. Getting up before the sun this morning I nipped down to the hop gardens to have the craic and check up on the East Kent Goldings, our main hop. Humphrey had his runes out, predicting cracking weather, and so put off the pickers for a couple of days. You see the aroma of the crop intensifies by the day in September and the trick is to wait as long as possible before picking........but not too long, oh no, after too long it could rain half way through the three week harvest, degrading the crop or at the very least necessitating a heftier drying bill than necessary. And after too long the cones bolt and become as dust in the oast, leaving little for the grower, judge, brewer and drinker to admire*.

But since the sun is booked to shine, and some, tomorrow, I expect the harvest will be further delayed. All the better for the quality of ale in the coming year. I heart September.


*(Did you see that? Deliberate omission of the Oxford comma since, being both brewer and drinker, it wasn't warranted. Of course, I could easily have been talking about other drinkers but since I brew according to my taste I wasn't, I was talking about me, as usual.)