Six Pack Tales: Six - True Brew LbNA #44535 (ARCHIVED)
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Add Location| Owner: | Riversol  |
|---|---|
| Plant date: | Nov 12, 2008 |
| Location: | |
| City: | Flourtown |
| County: | Montgomery |
| State: | Pennsylvania |
| Boxes: | 1 |
| Found by: | lotus |
|---|---|
| Last found: | Apr 2, 2010 |
| Status: | FFFF |
| Last edited: | Nov 12, 2008 |
(The Six Pack Tales Series Has Six Interlocking Stamps, So Plan Ahead!)
There's a Bonus Personal Traveler Box Too!
To celebrate the nearing completion of the Six Pack Tales letterbox series, I stopped by my favorite brew pub in the Philadelphia area, the General Lafayette Inn. The colonial era inn makes for a historically unique environment to savor food and beer, even more so when coupled with the live music available on the weekends. The food can be a bit pricey, so I stick to the less expensive pub menu. Their chicken quesadilla knocks me off my barstool every time I have it, however, this visit I ordered the blackened catfish sandwich for variety (the spice of life is variety, I insist) and a pint of their East Coast IPA.
Washing up before eating is a ritual I hold fast to—my mom’s influence, for sure. Unfortunately, I was confounded to discover the main floor bathroom jam packed with a line of six guys outside. Flabbergasted, I walked back to the bar and spied a Plexiglas window set in the bar floor revealing fermenting tanks in the basement. Inspired, I snuck downstairs to see if additional facilities were available. The basement was cramped, full of brewing equipment and supplies. I wove between the tanks and beneath hoses connecting them in search of a washroom.
I found a small unfinished alcove with an ancient sink, but alas with no water pressure. Unwilling to admit defeat, I stooped to see if a valve was accessible beneath. No valve was visible; instead, my eye was drawn to a brown piece of paper sticking from between the foundation’s masonry stones. I pulled the moldy edge of the paper firmly and with care. A single page of parchment came free with a rustle and a puff of mortar dust. I read the looping swirls of handwriting with incredulity. The long forgotten note was intriguing. Befuddled beyond measure how could I help but share it with letterboxers and beer lovers everywhere to make sense of it.
October 12, 1733
Gilbert, I assert you will hold what happened to me with great skepticism.
Today, I was spectating George and his team down at the creckett club just off the road to Valley Green. On a whim I elected to walk upstream along the Wissahickon River. In search of inspiration, I chose the most natural path. Your idea to purify rainwater for brewing purposes by superboiling under pressure to 380 degrees entered my thoughts. Intensely pondering this notion, I had a sudden vision of a new brewing recipe. You might say it was a “near death envisioning,” when the ingredient amounts came to mind.
1 pound light malt, ground fine
9 ounces molasses
2 gallons water
4 pinches of ale yeast
Warm the water in the brewpot. Add in malt and molasses, stirring until dissolved. Fill water to an adequate brewing depth. Increase heat and allow to boil for an hour’s time. Cool the wort and add water as necessary to round out the tun. Ferment with ale yeast at room temperature. Prime and keg in the usual manner.
That’s all I recall for certain. As misfortune would have it, I came through the vision desperately in want of a place to write down the recipe. Lacking a knife I could not even carve it on the large tree in front of me. The brewing step that is mentally blurred involved something along the lines of adding “12 pieces” of a particular ingredient to the wort at 60 degrees or, sans thermometre, to a temperature slightly above white quartz at room temperature.
You are more the brewmaster than I, Gilbert. Per chance we can discover the ingredient gone missing in an effort to perfect quality ale for the Three Tun Inn’s patrons.
Christopher Rapine
There's a Bonus Personal Traveler Box Too!
To celebrate the nearing completion of the Six Pack Tales letterbox series, I stopped by my favorite brew pub in the Philadelphia area, the General Lafayette Inn. The colonial era inn makes for a historically unique environment to savor food and beer, even more so when coupled with the live music available on the weekends. The food can be a bit pricey, so I stick to the less expensive pub menu. Their chicken quesadilla knocks me off my barstool every time I have it, however, this visit I ordered the blackened catfish sandwich for variety (the spice of life is variety, I insist) and a pint of their East Coast IPA.
Washing up before eating is a ritual I hold fast to—my mom’s influence, for sure. Unfortunately, I was confounded to discover the main floor bathroom jam packed with a line of six guys outside. Flabbergasted, I walked back to the bar and spied a Plexiglas window set in the bar floor revealing fermenting tanks in the basement. Inspired, I snuck downstairs to see if additional facilities were available. The basement was cramped, full of brewing equipment and supplies. I wove between the tanks and beneath hoses connecting them in search of a washroom.
I found a small unfinished alcove with an ancient sink, but alas with no water pressure. Unwilling to admit defeat, I stooped to see if a valve was accessible beneath. No valve was visible; instead, my eye was drawn to a brown piece of paper sticking from between the foundation’s masonry stones. I pulled the moldy edge of the paper firmly and with care. A single page of parchment came free with a rustle and a puff of mortar dust. I read the looping swirls of handwriting with incredulity. The long forgotten note was intriguing. Befuddled beyond measure how could I help but share it with letterboxers and beer lovers everywhere to make sense of it.
October 12, 1733
Gilbert, I assert you will hold what happened to me with great skepticism.
Today, I was spectating George and his team down at the creckett club just off the road to Valley Green. On a whim I elected to walk upstream along the Wissahickon River. In search of inspiration, I chose the most natural path. Your idea to purify rainwater for brewing purposes by superboiling under pressure to 380 degrees entered my thoughts. Intensely pondering this notion, I had a sudden vision of a new brewing recipe. You might say it was a “near death envisioning,” when the ingredient amounts came to mind.
1 pound light malt, ground fine
9 ounces molasses
2 gallons water
4 pinches of ale yeast
Warm the water in the brewpot. Add in malt and molasses, stirring until dissolved. Fill water to an adequate brewing depth. Increase heat and allow to boil for an hour’s time. Cool the wort and add water as necessary to round out the tun. Ferment with ale yeast at room temperature. Prime and keg in the usual manner.
That’s all I recall for certain. As misfortune would have it, I came through the vision desperately in want of a place to write down the recipe. Lacking a knife I could not even carve it on the large tree in front of me. The brewing step that is mentally blurred involved something along the lines of adding “12 pieces” of a particular ingredient to the wort at 60 degrees or, sans thermometre, to a temperature slightly above white quartz at room temperature.
You are more the brewmaster than I, Gilbert. Per chance we can discover the ingredient gone missing in an effort to perfect quality ale for the Three Tun Inn’s patrons.
Christopher Rapine