Losing the Old Breweries; Heineken to Close Caledonian
The brewhouse at Caledonian.
On a dark November 15th a decade ago, I pointed my wee Vauxhall southwest and started navigating the cramped streets of Edinburgh on my way to the Caledonian Brewery. It was my first and still only nighttime brewery tour, and I can’t say I minded. Edinburgh is a dark, moody city, and this 150-year old brewery was a bridge to the past, when the town’s skies were smoke-black from uncountable smokestacks—many of them breweries’— and locals called their town “auld reekie” (old smoky).
In an era of “rationalization,” Edinburgh lost its great breweries. Well, most of them. Caledonian forged ahead, making moreish ales of antiquated styles as lagers began decimating local beer. At the turn of the 20th century, three dozen breweries pumped smoke into the skies, but by the time I arrived in 2011, only Caledonian remained.
Citing “efficiencies,” Heineken, Caledonian’s owner, is stripping the city of its last great brewery.
When I arrived at Caledonian, well after sunset, I found a damp Victorian building filled with ghosts. That is, of course, typical. Old breweries compact time and preserve it. The hands of old brewers are evident in every dent and scuff. Their habits are preserved in the movements of the brewers they trained. When I stepped into the brewhouse, wort steaming and foaming in weird bespoke coppers, it might have well been 1869.
Since Heineken announced this decision a couple weeks ago, a few have called to save the old place, recognizing its cultural import. These are almost certainly gestures, a way of demanding that Heineken at least acknowledge the violence it will do to Scotland’s heritage. Back in the city’s heyday, Caledonian was never the most notable or successful brewery. In its longevity, though, it may be the most precious.
The United Kingdom has a finite and ever-diminishing number of pre-20th century breweries. Because they are fixtures of industry and held by private interests, they are not considered part of the cultural trust. UNESCO can’t save them. Instead of looking at the old pictures of floor maltings like they have at Caledonian, tourists go to museums to see pictures painted by artists who may have never even visited the city. Yet breweries did more to shape Edinburgh than dozens of institutions that may get more tourist attention now. Because Caledonian isn’t in public hands, an executive in Amsterdam gets to decide its fate. And Edinburgh’s.
In defense of Caledonian’s hop storage methods, it is usually chilly in Edinburgh.
OSHA would not approve.
Look closely and you might see the ghost.
Open fermenters, naturally.
Fancy a pint?
The skies don’t reek anymore.
Go see the old breweries. I’m not that old, and I’ve seen a number of them pass into memory. That they have been around a century or three doesn’t mean they’ll survive the year. Most of the old ones are in private hands, which is good, because not a one of them is efficient. They are magnificently outdated and funky. Somewhere along the line, they become museums (and perhaps mausoleums). Everyone who works there knows it, even if the public and city elders don’t. They are literally irreplaceable.
I don’t know when the bulldozers will come to Caledonian, but if I were nearby, I wouldn’t wait. Go have a look before it’s gone for good.