Dortmunder - the almost vanished beer style

When I first started taking an interest in beer there was very little information available on the subject. Unlike wine, where there seemed an abundance of material on viticulture, books on beer and brewing were few and far between. Beer was definitely regarded as the poor man's drink, but fortunately, things began to change, and it was during my first year at university, that I received wind of an innovative and groundbreaking book called “The Beer Drinker’s Companion,” by Frank Baillie. Frank was a man ahead of this time, and this hard-back publication, which appeared in 1973, was one of the first books on beer to appear and was the first one dedicated solely to the greatest long drink in the world.

According to the notes on the dust jacket, Frank assiduously researched his subject, had drunk all the draught beers listed in the book, and had drank beer in 36 different countries. The book itself listed every brewing company then in existence in the UK, gave details of all the beers produced by each of these breweries, and provided guidance that enabled readers to find pubs, where their beers could be enjoyed. In short, Frank’s pioneering work broke the mould and helped demystify the world of beer, malt, and hops, certainly for this 19-year-old student.

One thing I remember from Frank's book, and one that is particularly relevant to this current post, is a short section about lager. This was a beer I knew little about, especially as I'd only come across lager when it was served mixed with lime cordial. To a rather naive young drinker, this blonde coloured beer looked very attractive in the glass, as the bubbles slowly rose to the top, adding to the cap of foam on top of the beer, but why on earth shove a shot of lime cordial in it?

The only lagers I was familiar with at the time, were Harp, Skol and Heineken, so The Beer Drinker’s Companion was something of a revelation. Frank didn't go into a lot of detail, primarily because the beers brewed in these islands were the main focus of his book, but I do remember reading a definition of lager, how it differed from traditional English beer, and how it was by far the most popular beer in continental Europe. There was also quite an emphasis on lager being brewed using seedless hops, rather than highlighting bottom fermentation, and a grist consisting of lightly kilned malt - the points that really differentiate lager from English ale.

Frank went on to say there were three main types of lager: Pilsner Dortmund and Munich. He described Pilsner as being pale in colour, with a relatively high hop rate and brewed with soft water. Dortmund was also pale, but brewed using less hops, and harder water. Munich was a brown and aromatic type of beer, brewed using different malts, compared to the other two types of lager, giving it a fuller and sweeter pallet. He was obviously referring to the Dunkel style beers which originated in Munich, and which are still popular in the Bavarian capital today.

Over the years I’ve drunk lager-style beers in numerous parts of the world, as well as on home turf. The vast majority have been on the pale side and have included Pilsners by the score – and even Pilsner in the city of Pilsen itself. Some lagers have been Bavarian-style Helles, Franconian Kellerbiers, and some have been the aforementioned Dunkel, dark beers, alongside their Czech equivalents. The one lager style I’ve never managed to track down, apart from an example from Cleveland - based Great Lakes Brewing Co, is Dortmunder. Until the other day, that is, when I finally got to enjoy a Dortmunder beer, from the city that gave its name to the style which Frank Baillie regarded as the third type of lager.

Before revealing the beer and the location where I got to drink (and enjoy) a genuine Dortmunder beer, there’s another groundbreaking beer book that I want to mention, and it’s one which arguably had even more influence on beer lovers (and beer hunters). Published in 1977 and researched and written by the late, great Michael Jackson, “The World Guide to Beer,” was THE definitive guide to beer, the world over, and an indispensable reference book for anyone remotely interested in beer.

Dortmunder beer receives several mentions, as does the city itself, with Jackson describing it as Germany’s biggest brewing city. Dortmunder though, is a relatively new style of beer, having been first brewed by Dortmunder Union in 1873. This light golden beer became very popular with coal miners and workers in the area’s steelworks, and other industrial undertakings, leading to Dortmunder Union becoming Germany’s largest brewery. Dortmunder beer has been described as a lager produced for 19^th Century German industrial workers, and it proved ideal for this purpose.

High levels of sulphate in the region’s water gave the beer a distinct flavour that balances well with the bitterness from the hops. Dortmunder beer was never brewed to less than 5% abv, which was light enough to quench a coal miner’s thirst, but hearty enough to reward him for a long day of manual labour. As the steel and coal industry gradually diminished in West Germany, so did the production of Dortmunder lagers.

The beer is sometimes referred to today, as “Dortmunder Export,” but whatever the name, the style has the malt-forward flavour and sweetness of a German-style Helles, with the bitter base of a German-style Pilsener. The beer is all about balance, with medium hop character and a firm but low malt sweetness, so look for toasted malt flavours and spicy floral hop aromas. Most people would say that the taste of a Dortmunder mirrors the crispness and lightness of a Helles, but with a stronger, more malty taste and a higher abv.

So why isn’t Dortmunder more widely known, and why haven’t I come across it on my travels? I haven’t been to Dortmund, but I have been quite close to the city, following visits to Solingen and Wuppertal. There was no sign of Dortmunder beer in either of these locations, and the only place where I have seen the beer advertised, was at Gaststätte Lommerzheim (Lommi), the legendary Cologne Bier Haus, on the wrong side of the River Rhine, that I finally managed to visit back in March.

A large sign, on the front of the pub, advertises Dortmunder Aktien Bier (DAB), even though Lommi only sells Kölsch. Boak & Bailey mentioned this anomaly in their recent “Impressions of Köln” post, but the presence of this sign, on a pub which is a rare, pre-war survivor from the indiscriminate carpet bombing of the last war, does suggest Dortmunder beer was at one time, more widely available than it is today, in Germany. Finally, we have reached the point in the post where I reveal when and where I was finally able to drink a glass of genuine Dortmunder beer.

Two days after arriving back in England, following our cruise, I called in at the Nelson Arms in Tonbridge, craving a glass of two of English ale. Those cravings were satisfied by a pint of Shere Drop, from Surrey Hills Brewery, followed by one of Gale’s HSB, but whilst propping up the bar (it was very crowded that day), I noticed quite a few glasses of Dortmunder Union beer being served. I had to ask the barmaid, as the keg beers at the Nelson aren’t that well-advertised, coming as they do from the “beer wall” behind the bar. She confirmed my observation was correct and told me the pub had only recently started stocking the beer. It had proved a big hit with the locals, so much so that it is now a regular feature on the beer wall. There wasn’t time, there and then for me to try the beer, but I made the decision to have a pint of Dortmunder, the next time I was in the Nelson.

That time came quicker than I thought, as the other Wednesday, I found myself in the pub, as part of the local CAMRA group, who were presenting the Nelson’s licensees with a certificate, to mark the pub reaching the final stage of this year’s CAMRA Pub of the Year. Yes, the Nelson is one of the four finalists in this year's competition, and deservedly so! After enjoying a couple of Harvey’s beers – Dark Mild and Bonfire Boy (the latter was excellent), I just had to finish the session with a pint of Dortmunder.  My purchase turned a few heads amongst the CAMRA crowd, although when I explained my decision, I’m sure they understood the reasoning behind it. Matt the landlord confirmed that it was the genuine article and is obtained via a wholesaler. Quite a few of the pub’s regulars have taken to the beer, and it is now stocked at the Nelson, instead of Paulaner Helles from Munich.

It was a decent pint of lager, although it was nothing spectacular, and there’s the rub, because it’s almost certainly the reason for Dortmunder’s demise. With no real outstanding features, there’s nothing really to distinguish the style from other lagers, such as Pilsner or Helles. Esteemed beer writer Roger Protz reached the same conclusion, in this piece from 2004. He also made comparisons between Dortmund and Burton-on-Trent; a point that also crossed my mind – although I was thinking more of the high sulphate local water, which is a common connection between both towns.

Roger’s final point was one that seems to have come to pass. He describes Dortmunder, as one of the world's great beer styles, before claiming it is in danger of withering on the vine. I’m not sure about his first point, because as stated above, I found little evidence in the pint I drank to confirm that claim. Sadly, Roger is almost certainly correct about Dortmunder withering on the vine, and unless the brewers of its home city make a concerted effort to promote the beer, and really get behind it, this once renowned style of beer, really is in danger of disappearing for good.

 

 

Chichester - for the day

We will take a break from cruising for a while, (hooray, I hear you say), as I’m sure some of you are fed up with reading about the exploits of Mrs PBT’s and I as we sailed around the Mediterranean. There will be a few more posts to come, but at a future time that’s still to be decided. With plenty happening on the local pub scene, as well as the home and domestic front, it’s time to get stuck in an find out what’s occurring in “Sunny Tunny” and places further afield.

First up is last Friday’s jaunt to Chichester, county town of West Sussex, and unsung standard bearer for an attractive English town, and in case you weren’t aware, some cracking, but unsung pubs as well. I journeyed there, by train, with son Matthew who, I’m sure won’t mind my saying, is a little fed up at the moment. I won’t go into the reasons for his malaise, even though they’re nothing serious, but if you bump into me, I might tell you privately.

We took the cross-country rail route – the one which avoids London, thereby saving ourselves a staggering £31.40 each (I saved even more by using my Senior Railcard). The journey time was 20 minutes quicker too, than travelling via the capital, so why would you not opt for the scenic route? The latter involves a 30-minute journey from Tonbridge to Redhill – a cross-county line that opens up all sorts of possibilities, which I took full advantage of during my various walks along the North Downs Way.

A change of train at Redhill, followed by a second change at either Gatwick or Three Bridges, will see you arriving in Chichester, just over two hours after leaving Tonbridge, and in addition you will traverse some very pleasant countryside, as the line follows the gap in the South Downs, made by the River Arun between Amberley and Arundel. The train then picks up the south coast line that runs all the way from Brighton to Portsmouth and Southampton.

As far as I remember, this was my first visit to Chichester itself, although I have driven around the city a few times, most recently four years ago on a journey to and from Southampton, for our first cruise. We arrived in the city (and it is really quite a small city), shortly before midday, after a journey past waterlogged fields and swollen rivers, but thanks to the foresight of the Victorian engineers who constructed the various embankments and bridges that raised the line above the surrounding floodplain, we reached Chichester with dry feet!

It was a short, 10-minute walk from the station and into the city centre, which follows the original medieval plan of four roads, converging on a central radius, and thoughtfully named after the four points of the compass. I’d taken the trouble to draw up a rough list of pubs to visit, based on what I found on What Pub. It wasn’t definitive, and there may well have been better pubs, but we visited four, and with one possible exception, they were all good, and helped provide us with a snapshot of what Chichester has to offer.

First up was the Fountain, on South Street, a rambling Hall & Woodhouse (Badger) outlet that first opened as a pub in 1798. The pub has two bars, plus a restaurant area at the rear of the building. Arriving just after midday, we found the place quiet, although it wasn’t long before a handful of other customers turned up. The bar staff were busy removing decorations left over from Halloween, and an advert on the bar announced the live music acts lined up for both Friday and Saturday evenings.

Two hand-pumped ales were on offer – Badger Best and Tanglefoot. Given the relatively early hour, I opted for the former, finding this 3.7% bitter a refreshing blend of malt and hops. It's ages since I last drank a pint of draught Badger beer, and even longer since I set foot in a Hall & Woodhouse pub. Despite the above remark, a beer with a relatively low gravity, was a good one to kick off with, and with the Fountain providing a good welcome, it was a good place to begin our walkabout of Chichester’s pubs.

We continued in a northerly direction along South St towards the Chichester Cross, an ornate, stone market cross in the centre of the city, standing at the intersection of the four principal streets. On the way, we stopped for a brief look around the grounds of Chichester’s attractive-looking cathedral, and later in the day we took a look inside the building as well. I called in briefly at the local Nationwide branch, and afterwards, Matthew wanted visit the Chichester branch of his employer, Robert Dyas. We were now in the pedestrianised section of North Street, flanked by a number of attractive and imposing buildings, one of which was the George & Dragon Inn.

Marked on my list as a possible candidate for lunch, the young barman unfortunately blotted his copybook, as far as I was concerned, when his attempt at humour fell flat on its face. “Shots is it lads?” was his welcoming remark. My reply about us not looking like the type of people who drink shots (hand on heart, I’ve never drank a shot in my life), was probably said with a gruffer voice than I intended but was still sufficient to damage any chance of rapport between us.

Unlike the Fountain, the George was still full-on Halloween in its choice of décor, with a considerable amount of effort being made to achieve the desired effect. On the minus side, it was pretty dead inside and certainly not conducive to sending much time in. Adnam’s Ghost Ship and Dark Star Hophead were the cask offerings and I opted for the latter. Ghost Ship is far too citrussy for my liking, and I much prefer Adnam’s more traditional beers, such as Southwold, Broadside and, when it’s in season, the brewery’s excellent Old Ale. The Hophead, on the other hand, was quite acceptable, with no discernible difference in taste, following the closure of the Partridge Green site.

Moving swiftly on, it really was time for some food now, so we diverted off from North Street and took a walk past Priory Park, to St Martin’s Street, where the historic Hole in the Wall pub is situated.  This 17^th Century former debtors prison is owned by Greene King but is leased to and operated by the Big Smoke Brewing Company of Esher. It therefore offers one of the best choices of beer in Chichester. It appeared to be one of the most popular pubs in the city too and given the number of people and lack of available tables, I enquired at the bar about the availability of food before ordering our beers.

With commendable honesty, the bar staff apologised, saying they’d had a sudden influx of customers and informed me there was currently a 40-minute wait for food. Being hungry by now, Matthew and I said that we’d find somewhere else to eat, although we would be back, later on.  We made tracks for the Chichester Inn, a free house situated at the far end of West Street. On the way we passed the entrance to the city’s cathedral, but slightly concerned that the pub we were making for might have stopped serving food, we hurried on by.

We needn’t have worried, as the barman said there was still 30 minutes before the kitchen closed. Nevertheless, we placed our orders as soon as our drinks had been poured. I opted for sausage and mash, whilst Matthew went for scampi. Drink wise, I chose Taylor’s Landlord, with Matt going for Kronenbourg.  The Chichester itself is a two-bar pub with the lounge at the front of the building, and a much larger public bar to the rear. In common with many pubs in the city, the Chichester Inn hosts regular live music sessions.

We based ourselves in the lounge, at the rear, where there was a group of workers enjoying a Friday afternoon drink, after clocking off at the end of the week. Our food soon arrived, and we both go stuck in to our respective meals. My three sausages were meaty and herbal as well, and the mash was nice and buttery, as described. The "seasonal vegetables" though, consisted solely of frozen peas, and minted ones at that. Whoever thought minted peas were a good idea wants shooting, as whilst I’m partial to a dollop or two of mint sauce with roast lamb, adding mint to peas doesn’t work for me, so quite a few marks deducted there, I’m afraid!

The afternoon was getting on, and I was still determined to give the Hole in the Wall another try. We made tracks back into the city centre, but not before stopping to make a brief visit to the cathedral, where we were able to experience the impressive interior. I should qualify that by saying, I found the cathedral nave, and choir stalls impressive, but I’m not sure about my son!

The hordes of hungry diners had vanished from the Hole in the Wall, by the time of our return, and whilst we didn’t quite have the place to ourselves, it wasn’t far from it. To the far left of the bar was a beer wall with around 20 different keg taps, the majority of them Big Smoke brands, but it was cask I was after. A bank of four hand pumps to the right, was offering two Big Smoke cask beers, plus one from Dorking. They were both pale ales, so I went for the stronger of the two, the 4.2% Cosmic Dawn. Matthew tried the brewery’s Pilsner, and said it was good.

I must have been feeling overly fussy that day, as I found my beer thin, hazy, and totally dominated by citrus flavours – little wonder that I was craving something a lot more malt-driven at this point. It was not to be, as both of us decided to call it a day and make our way back to the station. It’s a shame that we mis-timed our visit to the Hole in the Wall, as the food offering, certainly on-line, looked the best of the four pubs we visited. The pub too was laid out well, and whilst there was little evidence of its past history, for my money it was the best hostelry we visited that day.

Chichester itself is a pleasant and well-ordered city, which has not turned its back on the past, whilst at the same time remaining an attractive and vibrant place. It’s well worth a two hour train ride as well, from West Kent, or as a stopping off point on a longer exploration of the Sussex-Hampshire coast.

Cruising the Mediterranean, our itinerary - the outward stretch

I’ve been back in the UK for just over two weeks now, which means all of six days at work. I'm not sure how much my firm missed me, but the main thing is the first and largest section of the major expansion project I'd been working on for the past year or so, is finally finished. Leaving work aside, the one thing I'm really not keen on after three weeks enjoyment of Mediterranean temperatures, is the wind and the rain, we’ve been experiencing recently. The adverse weather has unfortunately put paid to any plans for cross country walking I might have had and even with me having the appropriate boots plus a pair of gators, I have to say that walking through mud that's up to my ankles fails dramatically in its appeal. My aim of completing the Tunbridge Wells Circular Walk by the end of the year, therefore looks unlikely to come to fruition. We shall have to wait and see what nature throws at us between now and the end of December.

In the midst of all this bad weather, including the latest named storm Ciaran, my thoughts have tended to turn back towards those glorious days spent on the Queen Victoria cruising around the Mediterranean. With temperatures in the mid to upper 20’s, seemingly unbroken sunshine, and the sea as calm as the proverbial mill pond, it's hard to imagine that was just a few weeks ago. The other strange thing is that with nearly three weeks spent away from home, seasons that were bound to have advanced whilst we were away although, have not done so by as much as we expected. That latter point is reinforced by the leaves that are still present on the majority of the trees, which is perhaps indicative that conditions in the UK had also been mild during our absence.

One thing I haven't done since our return is set out the actual itinerary of the cruise, which was basically a voyage from Southampton towards the eastern fringes of the Mediterranean before heading back to our port of departure.  Four different countries, and some spectacular locations were visited, with the ship docking at seven different locations. Upon leaving Southampton, we spent three days at sea, cruising across a surprisingly calm Bay of Biscay, before turning the corner at Cape Finisterre. We then headed due south following the coastline of the Iberian peninsula, before stopping off at the southern port city of Cadiz.

In common with the other destinations on the cruise, we spent the day there, with the choice of a pre-booked excursion, or going ashore and exploring under our own steam. I’ve already written about our visit to Cadiz, so I won’t repeat myself here, but it’s worth recording that from the seven destinations visited, we only went on three guided tours, and one of those I undertook by myself Athens – for the Acropolis. The tours aren’t cheap, but they do actually convey participants, by coach, directly from the ship, and come with the added bonus of a local guide. They are available to book, prior to the cruise or, a few days in advance, whilst you are onboard ship.

However, if you go down the latter route, you run the risk of them all being sold out; although this time around I managed to book spaces for the two of us on a guided tour of Lisbon, just a couple of days before we arrived in the city. It’s also worth mentioning that tours are graded according to the level of activity, and here you can choose between excursions with a minimal level of walking, or you can do something that requires a lot more effort – it all depends on your fitness levels, and how mobile you are. If you’re feeling really adventurous, you could go kayaking, horse-riding, or even snorkelling – depending, of course on what’s on offer at the destination concerned.

At every destination on the cruise, the same pattern was repeated, with the ship arriving early in the morning, and docking so that passengers could disembark at, or shortly after 8 am. There was then around 9 hours shore time, before a late afternoon-early evening departure. Passengers are given a time by which everyone must be back onboard, and if people abuse this by pushing their luck, they do run the risk of the ship sailing without them. There was a story circulating, that this happened to two people, when we departed the Sardinian capital of Cagliari. It later turned out to be just a rumour, but the risk of being left behind is a very real one.  The ship itself has a tight schedule to maintain, and there is also the issue of port fees. Each vessel is charged for the time they spend in port, and as some of the fees can be on the high side, the captain doesn’t want to be hanging around. any longer than necessary

Upon leaving Cadiz we passed through the straits of Gibraltar, although as this was after dark, it was hard to see famous rock, when we passed by on the port side, even with the aid of the binoculars I brought with me. This didn't really matter as we were to sail back through the famous straits on our voyage back to Southampton. We had a further three days at sea ahead of us, as we passed into the Mediterranean, sailing close to the coast of North Africa, on our starboard (right) side. We passed Morocco Algeria and then Tunisia, as the ship headed towards our next destination - the Greek island of Mykonos, or so we thought.

The day before we were due to arrive in Mykonos, the captain announced a change of plan -something that isn't that unusual on sea cruises. The reason was the weather, but also the limited places for the ship to berth at this popular “party island.” There were three or four other cruise ships due to visit at the same time as us, and whilst the lack of spaces on the quayside could be overcome – see below, strong winds might present difficulties when it came to leaving the ship.

Normally the ship would drop anchor offshore, and passengers would be conveyed to and from the boat by means of small craft known as “tenders.” With strong winds forecast on our day of arrival, the captain and senior crew took the decision that transfer by tender would be difficult. Alternative arrangements were made instead, with help from the cruise line’s representatives onshore. Our destination was therefore switched to Crete, the largest of all the Greek islands, and we would be docking at the town of Heraklion, on the northern coast of the island, where we would be able to walk down the gangplank and off the ship. Arrival and departure times remained as they would have been for Mykonos, and with Queen Victoria’s own offshore team, working in close cooperation with their Cretan counterparts, replacement excursions were hastily arranged.

I’ve already written about Cadiz and Heraklion, and the same applies to our next destination – Piraeus, the port of Athens, which was just one day’s sailing away. Moving swiftly on, we departed Piraeus after dark, the slightly later departure allowing for a full day of various activities in the Greek capital. We were heading for the island of Santorini, a destination that needs little in the way of introduction, especially to “Instagrammers.” In 1450 BC, Santorini was devastated by a massive volcanic eruption that caused the middle of the island to collapse, leaving behind a steep-edged crater, or caldera high above the waves.

The island’s two principal towns, Fira and Oia, cling to clifftops high above the underwater caldera, and their picturesque, whitewashed houses, and contrasting, blue-domed churches, make it one of the most photographed places in the world. Transfer to and from shore would be by tender, but given the depth of the caldera, ships are unable to drop anchor, and instead rely on their engines, and thrusters, to hold position against the tides. So far, so good, but we soon learned there were three other cruise ships in the caldera, performing the same manoeuvres as us, and all equally laden with tourists, eager to feast their eyes on Santorini’s picturesque vistas.

To cut a long story short, we decided to remain onboard ship. Mrs PBT’s wasn’t confident about stepping on and off the tender, and whilst this wasn’t an issue for me, the sight of the hordes, milling around on the quayside, and clearly visible even without the aid of my binoculars, was enough to put me off as well. I am not a fan of crowds, and the tales told, alter that day by people who had been ashore, were sufficient to confirm my reluctance. There were two ways up to the rim of the caldera, and the settlement on top of the cliffs, the first being a recently installed cable car, and the other a steep walk up, a zig-zag path that wound its way to the top. Neither method seemed attractive, as capacity issues on the cable car, meant long queues at both top and bottom, whilst the marble path was reported as slippery and covered with animal excrement. This was from the donkeys, the poor, misused beasts of burden, used to haul carts of unfit and overweight tourists up to the clifftops, and then back down again!

As mentioned, the people Eileen and I spoke to, later in the day, reported the narrow streets of the clifftop settlement being packed, lengthy waits at cafes and bars, and the dangers of sliding onto ones backside, whilst dodging the piles of manure and donkey piss, littering the route up from the waterfront. In the midst of all this were the poor donkeys, labouring beneath a hot and unforgiving sun, leaving them thirsty and unwilling to continue with their cruel and unnecessary burden. We will pause it here for a while, as there are still three more destinations left to visit, and many more nautical miles of ocean to cover.

 

 

 

Carry on cruising - a further retrospective post from onboard ship

Spoiler alert, I wrote the bulk of this post whilst on board ship but was unable to publish it due to the Wi-fi and internet problems I encountered. I had almost forgotten about it, but then, after seeing a request from a cruise-news hungry commentator, I dug out the laptop, polished the rough edges away from the post, and added the finishing touches. Just reading what I wrote, brings back happy memories of a relaxing time afloat, and it isn’t hard to close my eyes, drift off and imagine I was back on the Queen Victoria, as she made her way through the clear blue crystal waters of the Mediterranean.  

Why not allow your imagination to transport you too, as you settle back in your chair and dream of bright blue, cloudless skies, whilst a warming sea breeze, that has blown all the way from Africa, transports you away from a damp, soggy and decidedly stormy late October-early November, English autumnal day. So read on and see what you think.

Our cruise around the Mediterranean has taken us to variety of different places, and when it is over, we will have visited Spain, Greece + three of its islands, Italy (Sardinia), and Portugal. So far, we have been blessed with perfect Mediterranean weather, although that could of course, change when we head back out into the Atlantic and begin our homeward journey across the notorious Bay of Biscay. The latter has a reputation for stormy weather, but as I sit here typing this post, looking out across the perfectly flat and calm waters, coloured an intense cobalt blue, it’s hard to imagine the storms that could potentially lie ahead on our journey back to blighty.

It's the perfect way to travel, and I can’t tell you just how relaxing it is, sitting up on the top deck, with a choice of either a sunny or a shady position, and just watching the ocean slipping by, as the ship glides serenely through the azure blue ocean. Whether it’s that novel you always promised yourself you’d read, typing up a blog, such as this, watching a film, either in the theatre or in the comfort of your cabin, attending a lecture – also in the theatre, there’s plenty one can do in order to while away the time.

On Friday morning I attended a really entertaining talk from legendary cricket commentator, Henry “Blowers” Blofeld, who had the whole audience in stitches with his tales from the commentary box. His recollections of fellow commentators John Arlott and Brian Johnston, themselves both proper characters in their own right, were also packed full of memorable moments. What was particularly notable, was the way that “Blowers” delivered his talk, without the use of notes, without hesitating, or being lost for words. Apparently, Henry has two more talks to give during our return voyage to Southampton, so I shall definitely be booking myself a front row seat.

There have been other speakers as well, including a veteran British Airways and former Concorde pilot. Coincidentally, the ex-air stewardess, we met earlier, said that she knew this individual, and had flown with him in the past. Also, on the “public speaking” team, was veteran newsreader Peter Snow, accompanied by his wife Ann MacMillan. Peter Snow seemed nowhere near as accomplished in the art of public speaking as “Blowers,” although to be fair I only watched part of his talk on the TV, in our cabin. 

There are plenty of other activities include watercolour painting, fencing, dancing (various types, all of which mean little to me), keep fit, and quiz nights. I have been keeping myself by walking as much as possible, either by laps around the promenade deck, or by using the stairs rather than the lifts, wherever possible. Three laps around the deck are equivalent to one mile, whilst for lightweights, two laps equal one kilometre. As far as decks are concerned, there are 12 in total, although the top two are for the first-class Princess & Queens Grill passengers, as opposed to the rest of us, whilst the lower Deck (A), is where the medical centre is situated.

Whilst on the subject of medical matters, a passenger was evacuated from the ship, by helicopter, on our first night out of Southampton, and this morning, as we left the ship in Lisbon, we saw another poor lady being stretchered off into a waiting ambulance. She had fractured her leg, after slipping down an external staircase, and no, this isn’t a rumour as three people we have got to know, witnessed the incident.

This brings me onto the demographics of the cruise passengers, and the fact that most of them appear much older than ourselves – and yes, that is possible! I’m not certain why this should be, as the four previous cruises we’ve been on have all contained a wide spread of different age groups. The only explanation I can think of is, that just under three weeks, the duration of this particular voyage precludes most people employed in a typical 9 to 5 position. The majority of companies place a two-week maximum period of leave on their employees, for obvious logistical and operational reasons, and so, unless one is retired, or like me just working part time. I was fortunate to have been granted a three-week break, although I gave nearly six months’ notice, and did so in writing.

One thing to mention, before I sign off, I didn’t manage anywhere near the amount of reading that I had planned, and this was down to several factors, that included writing this blog. We also made friends with quite a few other fellow cruisers, thanks in no small way to Mrs PBT’s, who palled up with a diverse crowd of nicotine addicts, up in the “smoking area” on Deck 10. It would have been rather churlish of me to have sat there, with my nose stuck in a book, rather than joining in the conversation.

There is another reason though, and it’s one that cropped up on last year’s Norwegian cruise. You see, my good lady wife thinks I am boring if read, rather than spend time talking to her. I wouldn’t mind so much if she wasn’t the person with her eyes glued to the TV when we’re at home, but since when did logic or consistency ever form part of the female psyche? I shan’t say anymore, even though she rarely, if ever, clicks onto this blog, but you never know!!

 

 

Out of favour(ly)

Like most people I receive far too many emails, and this might be because I have two Yahoo accounts, plus a Gmail one. I also have my own work email account, which is strictly for business.  Unfortunately, I’m not a person who keeps on top of his inbox, despite the best of intentions, although for professional reasons, my work emails are kept right up to date. The other day, I noticed an email from Beer 52, the long-established beer subscription service, advising me that Flavourly, another beer delivery organisation, had ceased trading after entering into administration earlier in October.   

 

Slightly puzzled that Beer 52 had my email address, I remembered that I have dealt with this beer subscription service, at some time in the past. Working on the basis that one person’s misfortune is another’s business opportunity, Beer 52 appear to be approaching former Flavourly customers, in a quite unashamed grab for business. This was evident from the email, below, which went on to say. “Beer 52 was approached to see if they could help Flavourly members continue to discover great beer. and were delighted to share the following service update."

 

“As a former Flavourly customer, you have earned a free case of craft beer (worth £27)! Click below and use your personal code and we'll send an 8-pack of craft beer from our latest theme, award-winning Ferment magazine and a couple of snacks.” It sounds tempting, or perhaps not, although there is no obligation to continue with your subscription because that is what you are signing up to, should you decide to take-up their offer. Beer 52 confirm this by saying, “Of course, you’re free to take the case and run. But if you decide to continue your monthly beer, drop, we’ll send you a new themed box every month, from the haziest NEIPAs to the crispest pilsners. No minimum commitment, cancel anytime.”

I have used several beer subscription services in the past, but it’s worth taking a closer look at Flavourly, not just because they are in the news at the moment, but because they operated a rather different business model to other beer providers. This involved partnering with selected craft-beer breweries, commissioning one-off “specials” or “collaboration beers”, and then guaranteeing to buy these beers in large volumes. The beers were then offered to Flavourly’s customers as exclusives.

This provided a certain volume for the breweries concerned, alongside the bonus of a firm commitment from Flavourly to take the entire batch. The aim was to boost efficiency, attract investment in new equipment, and negotiate better rates on ingredients with their suppliers.

Therefore, unlike certain other online beer retailers, Flavourly were not a subscription service, and with nothing to sign up to, customers could just order, as and when they pleased. Having said that, the company did tend to pester you with emails, highlighting their latest offers, but with no obligation to buy, you could just delete these messages. The beers that the company sold were packaged solely in the 330ml can format, which must have helped streamline their mail order despatch, business model.

This did at least mean that potential subscribers had an inkling of the types and styles of the beers they would be buying - an improvement on the “traditional” beer subscription services, where the provider rather than the customer, chooses the beers supplied. From my point of view, collaboration brews were alright for those wanting to tick beers on “Untappd,” but perhaps not for those who preferred something more permanent rather than “one-offs.”

Flavourly was set up by Ryan O’Rorke in 2012, following an appearance on Dragons’ Den, where he was offered investment by all five dragons. He eventually accepted a joint bid from Piers Linney and Peter Jones for £75,000 in return for a 20% stake. Over the previous two years, Flavourly had generated £600,000 in revenues, had shipped more than 500,000 products to its 10,000 subscribers, and was forecasting a tenfold increase in sales.

Flavourly also raised cash through several crowdfunding exercises, but In 2017 it was sold to Drinkshare Holdings for £118,000, a company which Mr O’Rorke was a director of. At the time of the fund-raising Flavourly was touted as having a value of £1.2m, so somewhere along the line the company decreased quite dramatically in value, and investors who backed the original startup were reputedly left out of pocket. I’m not sure how you value a company whose only assets are the stock it is currently sitting on, plus possible warehousing and distribution space. The latter two can be contracted out, so in the end it boils down to the offers that Flavourly had in which to tempt the customer. I’m beginning to think that apart from the possible novelty value, the brands plus types of beer the company were offering, had slowly stated to lose their appeal.  This is certainly what happened in my case.

At the beginning of March 2022, I ordered myself a mixed case of 48 cans of “craft beer” from Flavourly. My motives in buying this rather large case were mixed but were underscored by a desire to have a selection of different beers at home, to choose from. I’m not sure whether this actually worked, as some of the beers were, quite frankly, disappointing. You could argue that with such a large selection to choose from, there are bound to be a few duds, and you would be right in thinking this. However, at the other end of the spectrum you might expect there to be a few stunners, but there wasn’t any, although there was a few worthy of seeking out again.

I worked out that there were 22 different brews, which suggested that whilst there were two cans of most of the beers, there must have been three of some of them. At the end of the day, you win some, you lose others, and on the plus side I had the chance to enjoy some interesting beers. The flip side is the continual search for the new and the original does, at times, invoke a deep-seated sense of longing for the comfort and sense of security that goes with the familiar. In which case, make mine a pint of Harvey’s Sussex Best!

In summary, I feel the points I have raised above must have at least been partly to blame for the fall in valuation of Flavourly as a company, and the decision to put the business into administration. but where this leaves the breweries commissioned to produce the specials and collaborative beers, is any one’s guess. The concept behind Flavourly remains a bold one, and an interesting one too. The reasons for its failure are varied, but in the end probably boil down to the fickleness of the great British public.

Whether this could have been foreseen, is a question for another day, but one thing’s for sure, I won’t be taking Beer 52 up on their offer, as eight cans of supposedly “free beer,” just aren’t worth the hassle of cancelling my subscription further down the line.