Martyn Cornell - a few thoughts, and some recollections

This post was always going to be a hard one to write, and even now three weeks after the event I'm still not certain where or how to begin regarding what I'm writing. However, once I reveal the individual’s name, then I’m sure many other people will feel the same way. I'm talking, of course, about Martyn Cornell who passed away suddenly, and quite unexpectedly at the beginning of the month, and just in case you are unaware of Martyn’s achievements, he was almost certainly, one of the most knowledgeable and most successful beer historians, of his generation.

He was highly sought after as a lecturer about beer, its history and development, an at the time of his passing, he was preparing to travel to Iceland to visit a number of breweries there. Four years ago, he moved to the Norfolk town of Cromer, home of the Poppyland micro-brewery, and operated by his brother Dave and Dave's wife Mandy. His final, and much anticipated book, "Porter and Stout: A Complete History," which explodes some of the myths surrounding that great Victorian beer, Porter, will be published this month and is expected to be well-received.

Now unlike those writers, who have posted their own tributes to Martyn, I didn't know him particularly well, in fact I only met him on a handful of occasions. Primarily these were events organised by the British Guild of Beer Writers. In June 2016, the Guild’s Annual General Meeting was held at the historic George Inn, situated just off Borough High Street, and close to London Bridge. According to the article I posted at the time, Martyn was present that evening, although I never managed to speak to him.

That opportunity occurred several years’ later at one of the Awards Dinners that the Guild organised in London, during the run-up to Christmas. 2021’s event was held in the sumptuous surroundings of Institution of Mechanical Engineers, close to Westminster, and I remember both Martyn and I being seated at the same table, alongside Gillian Hough who, at the time, was one of CAMRA’s national directors. 

Apart from me spilling out my reasons for leaving the Campaign, to Gillian, I can’t remember what else cropped up in the conversation, but five years’ earlier, Martyn and I were both delegates at the 2016 European Beer Writer’s Conference, held in Amsterdam. Although we didn’t know it at the time, that year’s event, proved to be the last, because Zephyr Adventures, the US-based organiser of these events, decided to call it a day. Whether Zephyr just got cold feet, or whether they found the logistics of organising such an event in a different continent, too difficult or too taxing, remains unknown, but for budding beer writers like me, these conferences were excellent. During the mid-teens of this century (2014 – 2016), I attended conferences in Dublin, Brussels, and finally Amsterdam, and it was at that particular event that I first saw Martyn in action. He was one of two speakers who addressed the conference’s opening session, along with Tim Webb, another writer from what I call the “old school” of beer writers.

Tim’s conference address, stuck in my mind more than Martyn’s, but that’s not to detract from a person who was quietly spoken, and extremely knowledgeable, without any no hint of wishing to show off to the audience. Although Martyn could be a stern critic of other writers, he was always pleasant company when meeting for a beer.  Prior to the conference, along with a dozen or so other beer writers, the pair of us were guests of Visit Brabant, the tourist agency which looks after this province of the Netherlands. The agency had certainly pulled out all the stops to make us feel welcome, and to show off this attractive and inviting area of the country. The excursion included an overnight stop in the historic city of ‘s-Hertogenbosch; normally abbreviated to Den Bosch.

Earlier that morning, our group was transported by coach, to the Abbey of Koningshoeven at Berkel-Enschot; home to the Dutch Trappist Brewery of La Trappe. Koningshoeven is one of just two Trappist breweries based in the Netherlands, out of the 11 currently in existence world-wide. The abbey is home to a community of 16 Benedictine monks, and as well as brewing beer it also produces cheese. Brewing began at Koningshoeven back in 1884, as a means of financing the monastery, and whilst the monks originally produced the beer themselves, it eventually became necessary to obtain outside commercial assistance.

After a tour of the brewery, we adjourned to the shady beer garden, next to the visitor centre, for a lunch of local ham, cheese, salad, and bread rolls. More beer followed in the form of a 7.5% Isid’or beer for me, whilst others went for either the 4.7% Puur (a pilsner-style beer), or the Witte Trappist 5.5%, wheat beer. The garden was crowded with visitors, most of whom appeared to have arrived by bike. Afterwards it was our turn to cycle, although those who preferred not to, were transported to the next destination by coach. Ten years ago, I was still a regular cyclist, so I was definitely up for a bike ride, even though our route along the bank of a canal, was a lot longer than expected.

Later that afternoon, after visiting a couple more breweries, our coach transported us back to Den Bosch, where we enjoyed a boat ride along the network of canals which ring the city. After checking into our hotel, we had an evening meal, plus several more beers the Café Bar le Duc, a brewpub and beer-café, situated right in the historic centre of the city. I’ve looked back at the photos of that day, and picked out both Martyn Cornell and Bryan Betts, another much missed beer writer, who was also taken from us, far too soon, (Bryan, sadly passed away in February, last year).

Midway through the conference, we given a tour of the legendary Jopen Brewery in Haarlem - a city that lies to the west of Amsterdam. The brewery visit was followed by an excellent, beer-related dinner, held in the almost ecclesiastical setting of Jopen’s original brewery, situated in a converted church. At the end of the conference, there were several, optional, beer-related activities, and the one I chose was a trip out to the renowned Brouwerij De Molen, housed in a converted windmill, in the small town of Bodegraven.

Martyn was present on that trip, which involved taking a train from Amstel station, and then making an hour’s rail journey, south-west from the Dutch capital to Bodegraven. It poured hard with rain, for much of the day, and we arrived at De Molen, looking like a group of drowned rats. Regrettably, much of the narrative surrounding not just this brewery visit, but the conference in general was lost when my old laptop decided to die on me, but I do remember we were well looked at renowned Brouwerij De Molen. Although the brewing originally took place in the old windmill, the majority of the company’s production is now concentrated place inside a couple of modern, industrial units, just a couple of blocks away. We were shown this during the tour, along with brewery’s impressive setup for producing different, barrel aged beers. 

By the time we arrived back in Amsterdam, the sun was shining, and we enjoyed a pleasant walk stroll to the hotel, along the banks of the Amstel river. I took a few photos which demonstrate that with Amsterdam being built on water, you can't go more than a few 100 yards without stumbling across a canal.

 I learned the sad news of Martyn’s passing, the day after I returned from holiday and thinking about both the writer and the man, is what prompted me to pen this tribute. Martyn was only three years older than me, which makes this loss particularly poignant, even though we are all unaware of how much time we have left on this earth. I am confident that Martyn's work will continue to inspire, both through his published writings and his blog. Apart from offering my heartfelt condolences to Martyn's family and friends, there is not much more I can say. His passing, far too soon, leaves a significant void, and his extensive knowledge, factual insights, pleasant nature, and friendly demeanour will be greatly missed.