A Lesson Before Homebrewing

If you are ever given the opportunity to try homebrewing, do it once.  Mostly because, once you are done reading what I write, you will have as much ability to be the pretentious know-it-all that I was when I was given my shot.  This is my confession.

A couple of weeks ago,  at the Superbowl Party, the gentleman who kept trying to get me to fight people mentioned that he brewed at home (side note:  everyone that I have ever met in the past week brews at home.  If you are trying to be the different one, try brewing in a morgue). Three weeks later, he walked up to me at church to tell me that he was making his next batch of beer, a cream stout, and I should come and check it out.  Now, a smart person would not choose to enter the home of someone that thinks they are a wildly unpredictable pugilist (I am pretty certain that will be the plot to Fight Club 2).  However, someone in search of knowledge and adventure would do that at a minute's notice. Particularly when they want to write about the experience in dulcet tones.

There is a whole mess of things that go into home brewing.  For starters, you have to purchase fermentation buckets and bottling equipment.  Then, for each particular batch of beer, one has to procure an ingredient kit.  The contents of these kits depend upon the difficulty of the particular beer.  In general, a kit contains some grain, the malt extract, yeast, hops, and the directions.  Because we were making a cream stout, it also contained lactose.

I was put in charge of the directions, which was an instant mistake on the part of everyone there.  I spent the next twenty minutes memorizing the directions and cross-referencing them with the facts that I have attained at work and the book on the science of fermentation that happened to be in my backpack (seriously, I did not pack it.  I just happen to carry it with me everywhere).  I found the directions to be very general and less technical than I was expecting.  What I could not wrap my mind around was how this process could be completed without the range of equipment to which I am accustomed. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that this fellow did NOT have a Lauter Tun in his backyard.

You can tell that serious brewing was occurring, as there is malt extract spilled on the directions

We were finally able to begin the process by measuring out five gallons of water into a giant sauce pan (when you are Italian, every pan is measured in terms of what is most commonly cooked in it, e.g. meatball frying pan).  I may have asked a question regarding whether or not the pH of the water was chemically corrected for the beer in question.  But, for the sake of this story, I did not and was not told that I was the giantest nerd in the world.

Once the water had boiled, we threw in a mesh bag of grains.  It appeared to be a mix of pilsner malt and some form of toasted malt, and maybe a little caramel malt.  The directions firmly stipulated that the temperature be maintained at 155 degrees.  I calmly explained that raising the temperature to anywhere above 172 degrees would shut off the necessary enzymatic activity.  I was then informed that maybe I should stop talking, let my hair down, and try to be normal.

Steeping the grains

Once the grains had steeped for 30 minutes, it was time to remove the wort (the sugar water that was created) from the stove and time to add the malt extract.  Seriously, this stuff is gross looking.  It was a pitch black syrup in a carton (imagine high-fiving a T-Rex from the Le Brea Tar Pits.  That is the level of sticky this stuff is) that is then dumped into the sauce pan. Once it was stirred in and disolved completely, we added the lactose.

Imagine High-fiving THIS T-Rex

It was then time to bring the wort to a boil and add the hops.  This was by far my favorite part of the process.   The hops were Northern Brewer.  Because they are added at the beginning of the boil, they are used for bittering the wort (meaning these hops have high alpha acids), but not aroma.  Stouts generally do not have an estery smell.

For the first time EVER, I got to watch the proteins coagulate and boil away. One generally does not want proteins in beer, as they aid in the creation of diacetyl, the chemical that leads to spoilage and off-tastes in beer.

You can see the coagulated proteins in this picture....

Right as the wort finished brewing, my sister decided that it was time to go home, so I am not quite sure how the wort was cooled before being introduced to the yeast.  I can only assume that the reason there was no Lauter Tun is because the fellow invested in a heat exchange system to cool the wort instead.

The finished product....or a container of beef broth....

All In All, It Was A GRATE Day!

Last week, I was once again given the opportunity to enjoy the metallic coffin that is the Lauter Tun.  You see, once a week or so, the kettles all undergo something that is referred to as CIP (which in my mind still stands for Capital Improvement Program).  This is the process whereby all of the equipment is scrubbed and cleaned within an inch of its life.

Favorite Early Brewer Dan was telling me how difficult the CIPing of the Lauter Tun is, so of course, I wanted a turn to try.

Damn, it feels good to be a brewer

The reason why this is more difficult than normal Lauter Tun cleaning time (Everytime I say that, the lyrics to Peanut Butter Jelly Time get stuck in my head for days) quickly became apparent.  As it turns out, the little pie pieces that I cleaned so compulsively weeks ago actually lift out of the plate in which they are set.  And that plate has grain residue stuck to the bottom that needs to be cleaned.

All of the pie pieces have to be lifted in the proper order, because they are interlocking, and the first piece is screwed into the base plate.  Dan unscrewed the first piece, and then showed me how the other pie grates have to be slid toward you and then balanced against the wall.  This has to be done 10 times AND THE GRATES ARE FREAKING HEAVY. I know this because I dropped one on my leg while I was hosing things down.

This is what the pie pieces in the Lauter Tun look like, just FY-izzle

As indicated, each of these grates has to be hosed down.  Any of the grains that might have become stuck in the little grates on the plates (call me "Dr. Seuss") has to be scrubbed and washed out.   Dan scrubbed the individual pieces. I then hosed the grate down by leaning it toward myself and spraying my jeans with water. 

We had some riveting conversations while cleaning.  As it turns out, I am not the only person who thinks that the acoustics in the Lauter Tun are fabulous. I also found out that Dan also usually has to CIP the Lauter Tun by himself.  

When that was finished, the whole Lauter Tun was filled with boiling hot water.  Once it had been emptied, we cooled it down with the hose (thanks to the steam, my skin has never been better), and jumped back in to replace the pie pieces.  It is a lot harder to put the pieces back than it is to take them out.  It was like playing a deviated form of Tetris. 

I am proud to report that I only smashed my fingers three times between the plates and it was only two days before I could use my hands again. All in all, it was a GRATE day (see what I did there?).

It Would Be Funny To Brush a Squirrel's Teeth

To say that Wednesday was a busy day would be the world's biggest understatement (it would be like saying that it would be funny to brush a squirrel's teeth...duh it would be hilarious. Especially with whitening toothpaste).  While I have officially finished rubber booting,  I keep getting called back into the world of brewing to help with various operations.  On Wednesday, that operation was firkin rolling.  It is exactly what it sounds like.

As this picture demonstrates, oral hygiene is very important to many squirrels.   Little known fact:  Aquafresh toothpaste is the choice of 92% of squirrels.

Many people are unacquainted with what exactly a firkin is.  Let me explain it simply:  it is derived from the Middle Dutch word vierdekijn which means exactly what it sounds like.  For the Middle Dutch uneducated (school systems these days, eh?), that literally translates to "quarter keg." They are also known for containing "cask conditioned" beers.

For many brewers, firkins provide an opportunity to experiment with their creations after the actual brewing process has been completed.   You can add anything to the cask and it will always be a one of a kind creation.  We recently tapped a firkin of our bourbon barrel stout (which is THE most delicious thing ever.  Not to make you too jealous, but there is a .02% chance that you will ever get to try it) at the Ernest & Scott grand opening in Wilmington.

This is a Firkin.

Anyway, once you have a firkin, you have to keep waking up the yeast (they are lazy little bastards).  That is where firkin rolling comes in.  When I was solicited for help, I was imagining something along the lines of log rolling.  It was more like a game of kick the can/Brittney hitting people with heavy casks.   We literally spent 30 minutes just rolling kegs around the brewery; it was like being Sisyphus.

When we had finished that, Chris the Brewer, informed me that he had recently been clocked at 3:13 for cleaning the Lauter Tun.  Of course I told him that I could do better. A strange, cultish set of rules has begun to form as a result of the Lauter Tun competition.  Time starts the moment you jump down the hole and ends the moment that your whole body is completely out.  You have the choice of two implements now:  squeegee or shovel.  And there has to be less than a silver dollar worth of grain left in the tank for your time to be official.

This picture cannot show you that I was singing "Lauter Tun Time" to the tune of "Hammer Time." But you can use your imagination.  Why yes! I do sound like Cher when I sing.

So there I was in the Lauter Tun again, facing the task at hand with great trepidation. You see, Chris had just informed me that the rakes were no longer functioning properly and I was now standing shin deep in grain (it was like being in a rice paddy...probably).  IT IS NOT EASY TO SHOVEL WET GRAIN THAT IS UP TO YOUR KNEES!  Especially when the most physical activity you undertake every day is reaching for the Triscuits on your desk.  I can't lie, it definitely took me over 20 minutes to get the Lauter Tun clean.  Then, as it turned out, the boots I had borrowed for the task had really deep treads.  And those treads had grain stuck in them.  Consequently, every time I stepped onto the piece of pie that I had cleaned, I dragged grain with me.  I would have felt very defeated if I had not been wearing my Batman t-shirt.

It Was Like Wrestling An Alligator

Day two commenced much like day one -- with the hope that they were kidding about having me try every single job in the brewery.  No such luck.  As soon as 9AM rolled around and Walter rolled in and told me to "boot up,"I knew I was in for another one of those days.

The day was made even more interesting by the fact that my officemate rolled in to the office in a funk.  As it turns out, one can suffer from a contact funk.  Fortunately, when you are funkafied in the brewing world, that is still like being lethargic on the best day of your life.  This funkaliciousness (Note: not to be confused with Fergaliciousness. (Definition: make them boys go loco)) lasted until lunch.  (I also just wanted to see how many times I could use the word funk in a paragraph.)

The training day began by taking the gravities of the beers in the fermentation tanks.   When a beer enters it's primary fermentation, it is essential to monitor the vitals so that you know when the chemical reaction has concluded.  During the primary fermentation, the yeast eats the sugars and, as byproducts, produces carbon dioxide and alcohol (in case you are wondering, it is ethyl alcohol).  For an ale this process takes from 3-4 days and for a lager it can take from 7-14 days.  The measured gravities and temperatures indicate when the reaction has flatlined and the yeast may be extracted.

After being released from a meeting, I was once again given the opportunity to bask in the wisdom of Walter.  He told me that one of the beers was going to be dry hopped tomorrow (And no, that is not something that middle school kids do at a dance (Thanks for that line, Sam Adams employee)).   My mission, should I choose to accept it, was to hook up a bajillion hoses to R2Hop2, our dry hopping machine.  Let me tell you, not only are these hoses heavy, they are unyielding.  It was like wrestling an alligator.  Not only do you have to hold the heavy hose in one hand, you have to clamp it and close the clamp with the other hand.  When you are a Charles Atlas 98-pound weakling, this is more difficult than you can ever imagine. Walter kept offering to help me, because he is a stand-up guy like that.  However, my stubborn self came out in full force.  I told him that if regular employees could do it without help, I would do it without help too.  It took me 20 minutes to hook up one hose, but I could not give up once I made up my mind.  Fortunately, Walt is super patient and all that time gave him the opportunity to make up songs about the situation.

Then, it was time to Lauter Tun.  As I mentioned yesterday, I will eventually work my time down to 7 minutes.  In my head I have already decided that someday there will be a situation in which someone says "Dear God!  Can anyone clean this Lauter Tun in under seven minutes and save the children?" And I will be able to smile out of the corner of my mouth and say, "It is funny you would ask that, because yes. Yes, there is someone who can."

I started by pushing all of the grain to the sides of the Lauter Tun.  Then I asked Walt to get out his stopwatch, because I was going in...ninja style. And by ninja style, I mean loudly and obviously.  That is what we call irony.

Things were going well for the first two minutes.  I squeegeed the sides well.  I pushed all of the grain down into the auger hole.  But then it was time to hose.  The first piece of pie went wonderfully.  In my head, I was already imagining beating the record, climbing out of the metal kettle, and being carried on my peer's shoulders like a god. In the midst of this reverie, I made a rookie mistake.  I let the pressure of the hose get too high.  It proceeded to knock grain all over the clean sections.  In my haste to correct that error, I dragged grain on the bottom of my shoes into the clean areas.  Things went from bad to a slapstick comedy in two seconds when I sprayed myself in the face with the hose.   The stopwatch read 11 minutes at this point.

After talking Walter into cleaning my glasses, because I cannot see a damn thing without them, I was back on the job. I had to re-do all of my work.  When I finally pulled myself out of the Lauter Tun, the watch read 18 minutes.  It was 7 minutes less than my time yesterday, but still not acceptable.  Today is a new day, however, and I suspect it is the day that I get the time down to at least 15 minutes.

The day ended well, with an Oak Barrel Stout and the backwards spelling game.  My new hobby is spelling words backwards and, when drinking, it becomes like Extreme Backwards Spelling.