The actual, physical book

Yesterday I finally got a copy of my new book on Norwegian farmhouse ale. I've written books before, but this one is different. So many emotions, such hopes and dreams, now suddenly materialized as a lump of pulped wood and glue. It's been my baby for a long time, and now it's suddenly going to be flung out to the public.

I've been exploring this subject since 2010, but it was only in 2013 that I really got serious about it, eventually culminating in the Norwegian farmhouse ale expedition of 2014. Before we set out on that expedition we really knew very little about Norwegian beer. Where the brewing still lived, what the beer was like, whether there really was such a thing as kveik, all of this was still unknown. For someone reading this today it's probably impossible to imagine the depth of our ignorance. We knew as much about koumiss brewing in Mongolia as we did about present-day Norwegian farmhouse brewing. And, yes, I do realize that that sounds utterly absurd. But it's true.

Martin and me next to the car, Trollstigen, May 2014

What we found on that trip was a shock of such proportions that it permanently altered the course of my life. It wasn't even just one shock. One surprise was how much of the ancient tradition that was still alive. Another surprise was the depth of it, because it wasn't just the beer itself that was still alive, but also the social customs around it, the old ways of serving beer, and even some of the superstition. But the biggest surprise was how good the beer was, and how different the beers were.

I came back convinced that here was a beer culture deserving international recognition and a place alongside the more famous beer cultures that we all know. It really surprised and upset me that something so rich and important could be totally unknown not just abroad, but also in Norway. As Martin put it, "this isn't exactly the Congo!" You can visit these brewers and taste these beers without hacking your way through the jungle for weeks. Some are literally within a taxi ride or a short train ride from the nearest international airport.

And even in Norway we didn't know this. People were doing seminars and tastings on porter and saison, but they didn't know that there was such a thing as Norwegian beer. In retrospect it's so absurd that before very long probably nobody is going to remember it was ever like this, but the fact is it was, and not so long ago I knew no more than anyone else. Somehow I was just very lucky to take this seriously before anyone else.

A tiny fraction of the sources

So on coming back I dived into the sources available and started digging for real. Eventually I accumulated so much material that I thought I had to start telling people the story of these beers, so that they could be appreciated the way they really deserve to be. The pressure grew and grew, until one day, while on holiday at my in-laws, I sat down and just started writing, to see whether I could make this work. Within a couple of days it was clear that I could. Then, two weeks later, the biggest publisher in Norway called, asking whether I might be interested in writing a book on traditional Norwegian beer. That was an easy question to answer.

I quickly discovered, however, that my knowledge of the history and background of the traditional beer was too limited. I could write about it, but there were too many gaps, and too much I couldn't write about. Nobody had ever really treated the subject in full, so I found I would have to do my own groundwork on it. That set off another round of archive and library digging in the spring of 2015. What I found was another shock, in some ways almost bigger than the first. That research eventually turned my view of what beer is, how it's brewed and served, and the history of the drink, upside down. Very little of that has so far made it into this blog, but the book is my attempt to communicate some of it.

Drinking horn, from Lardal, Telemark (Vest-Telemark Museum)

After that, talking to beer friends about beer was a strange experience for a while, because I no longer saw beer the same way they did. That was a lonely feeling, one I was totally unprepared for, and one that still hasn't completely worn off. I'm hoping the book is going to change that. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm really publishing this book in the hope of changing how my countrymen view what really is their national drink. How that's going to turn out remains to be seen.

So what's in the book? Basically, half of it is descriptions of meetings with farmhouse brewers, and their stories and beers. Most of that has been published on the blog. The other half is historical and brewing background, explaining where farmhouse ale comes from, and how crucially important it was in Norwegian peasant society. There are also chapters that go deeper into traditional malting, traditional yeast (kveik), brewing processes, and the use of herbs, including hops. It's all about Norway. There was a chapter on other countries, but in the end I took it out.

Each dot is an account of farmhouse brewing in a specific place. The colour indicates the data set it originates from.

Once I got started on the research, however, I found I couldn't stop, and now my research has far outstripped what's in the book, especially as regards other countries. Now that the Norwegian book is out I have to consider how on earth I'm going to publish all this stuff. The documentary research alone has material enough to keep this blog going for at least a decade. On top of that comes the journeys that still haven't been published on the blog. And the journeys yet to come. And the archives I haven't yet visited.

How to approach this I haven't yet decided. Clearly there must be an English book, too, that covers all of Europe. Probably there should be articles as well. How and where I don't know yet. Anyway, today that doesn't really matter. I just passed an enormous milestone. For now I'm just going to enjoy that.

So. I've launched this pile of pulped wood and glue out into the world to change people's minds. Maybe it will, and maybe it won't. In any case it's only the first salvo. Whether it works or it doesn't, I don't think my writing can ever convey the delight of these journeys. The beers, the flavours, the places, the people. Even if I had to keep it secret, if given the choice I would do it all over again, just so I could experience it one more time.

(Oh, and if you want the book, go here.)