Most people would call it crazy, but the crazies call it ‘living archeology’: if material remains of our past no longer exist, we have to recreate past times as best we can in order to figure out the truth of how people lived back then. It drives some to live as bronze-age villagers, others to dress up as Roman legionnaires and go ten rounds with Gaulish barbarians. It drove me to recreate the greatest journey beer has ever made, an 18,000 mile sea journey that hasn’t existed for 140 years.
IPA is my favorite beer style, and my favorite beer story. The trouble with beer stories is that they tend to get told the way all good stories are―from mouth to mouth, from pub to pub.
It began with a question that seemed obvious in retrospect: every brewer of an ‘authentic’ India Pale Ale claimed this was a beer that matured and developed on a long, tumultuous sea voyage from England to India. Yet no modern brewer had sent their beer on this journey. So how did they know if it was authentic or not? Who knew what a ‘real’ IPA tasted like? I didn’t think anyone did, not really. And as soon as this occurred to me, I realized I was going to change that. Whatever it took.
It’s funny how in what you might later describe as a ‘moment of madness,’ you feel saner than at any other time in your life. The brain clears of all its usual clutter, and the one insane thought that occupies it sits there shining and elegant, obvious and all embracing. When the idea of brewing a nineteenth century India Pale Ale and carrying it on its legendary journey first occurred to me, it seemed like the most obvious, sensible thing in the whole world.
It seemed less obvious―and certainly less sensible―over the ensuing six months, when people who know best about this kind of thing told me it couldn’t be done; when I discovered that no ship in the world stops in South Africa en route to India; when I had to apply for visas to enter India and Iran; and particularly when the Iranians refused my visa. Eventually, via a combination of cruise liner, sailing boat and cargo ship, I managed to piece together an approximation of the route. But it cost me dearly, and not just in monetary terms. Time and again I asked myself why I was doing this. Each time, I came back to the same point.
IPA is my favorite beer style, and my favorite beer story. The trouble with beer stories is that they tend to get told the way all good stories are―from mouth to mouth, from pub to pub. The edges are worn away. Details are misremembered. And a dramatic flourish some guy added in a moment of inspiration becomes a core ‘fact’ two tellings down the line.
I wanted to write the definitive history of IPA. Beer history is a vast and sprawling thing, full of holes and traps. But I figured I had chosen a narrow enough field to be able dig deeper than anyone before. Two and a half years later, after sifting through frustratingly incomplete brewery archives, panning for gold in the East India Company’s records and handling newspapers in which the French Revolution was reported as breaking news, I’d say I have the dubious honor of knowing more about the history of IPA than any other living soul. I’m not sure if that’s something I should be proud of, or bring up with my analyst.
I started off by gathering everything written about IPA in beer books and journals and on websites, everything in historical tomes and style guides. Most of it pointed back to two books: one published in 1853, the other in 1870. Each of these, in its own way, is somewhat unreliable. Consequently, many myths have grown up around IPA, as passionate fans attempt to discover more about the beer it and its origins. Here are ten of the biggest myths around this fascinating legend―some wholly inaccurate―others merely misunderstood.
Excellent article! Very informative and it made the history fairl exciting. You also don’t need to play down the fact that you know a lot more than nearly everyone about IPAs. You did the research and were smart enough to work everything out. Be proud of it. You don’t have to be arrogant, but you also don’t need to put yourself down as you did in at least two places!