A year into homebrewing and my sixth batch is perhaps the best yet: a dark and pleasantly bitter brew called St. Paul Porter from Northern Brewer. It's not as thick or roasty as my Irish Stout, but every bit as flavorful, with notes (to my tongue, at least) of strong coffee and dark chocolate, and the bite of dark berries. (You know, the little pinch the skins of blueberries give your tastebuds on the way down? That's the way the hops manifest themselves -- not bitter, just a bit of a bite, if you follow me.)
It's been ages since I've had my favorite of this style, Anchor Porter, but this is what I remember: a beer that is very flavorful, surprisingly smooth, and seemingly strong -- although this one weighs in at just 5.5% alcohol.
It's a perfect fall beer. I think I'll have another.
I forgot to take photos, but here's a quick summary of our brew session and possible upcoming events discussed at the club meeting yesterday.
Brew session
We gathered at Nielsens garage around 1 p.m. Karl brewed two full all-grain batches: a Spotted Cow cream ale clone and an imperial stout, both all-grain batches from Midwest Supplies. Butch and silent auction winner Joe D. brewed Joe's beer, Cologne Kolsch, an extract kit from Midwest -- which came off without a hitch. I was there, and prospective new members and St. Michael parishioners Trevor G. and Michael P., and Butch's neighbor Mike, also stopped by. We sampled my St. Paul Porter (extract kit from Northern Brewer) and Kulmbacher Eisbock, an unusual, strong, and sweet German beer I inherited from my dad, who has kept in in his well pit for years now.
Possible upcoming events
November: We need to pick a Friday for a field trip to Steel Toe Brewing (tours at 6 and 7 p.m. Fridays, no reservation needed; free tasting; appears to be no charge) and The Four Firkins beer store (open 'til 9; beer tasting after 6 p.m.) -- plus Midwest, if need be, since they're all close to each other.
Saturday, Dec. 1:Town Hall Brewery tour -- $7 per person for a brewery tour, samples, a pint of beer, a Town Hall sample glass, and 10% off meals -- first Saturday of the month; reservation required. I will let them know we want to do this since space is limited -- we'll need to see who wants to come.
February: Try to schedule a Theology on Tap tasting and speaker event -- could make it a couples thing. I plan to see if Deacon Nevin (also a brewer, I believe) would speak.
Further updates
As of this morning, Butch says Joe D.'s Kolsch is fermenting nicely; they are planning to transfer next Saturday at Butch's, and bottle hopefully the following weekend at my place. This afternoon I bottled 51 12-oz bottles and five big bottles of English Pale Ale from Hanover Wine and Spirits and Brew Supplies for the upcoming Catholic Man Night.
On the west side of Highway 19, just past the sign that marks the Hanover city limits, sits the new destination for local homebrewers and craft beer lovers: Hanover Wine, Spirits and Brew Supply. I've stopped by twice in the past two weeks -- first, to pick up some priming sugar after I started sanitizing bottles, then I realized my St. Paul Porter kit from Northern Brewer didn't come with any, and later to pick up some sanitizer, check out their beer selection and try pick up one their Brewer's Best kits to compare to Northern and Midwest Supplies. The Hanover shop has everything an extract brewer needs to get started and is certainly convenient for emergencies or last-minute brew sessions -- but after purchasing and brewing their Brewer's Best English Pale Ale kit today, I think I'll be a regular.
During my first visit, one of the partners who opened the shop assured me that they want to grow their brew supply business and could get anything that area homebrewers needed, including bulk all-grain supplies, at a reasonable price -- and would be happy to work with us on special orders. So as not to put them on the spot with other customers in the shop, I sent them an email afterward asking if they offered a 10% discount for members of AHA-registered clubs, like Midwest and Northern. Dan and Chadd quickly replied that they do; just bring your membership card.
So on Friday, I picked up 32 ounces of Star San sanitizer, a Brewer's Best English Pale Ale Kit, and a six-pack of Furthermore Beer's limited-offer fall brew Fallen Apple. The down side? The prices are a little higher for ingredients and noticeably so for the sanitizer. The 32-oz bottle of Star San cost $22 after the club discount -- compared to the Northern and Midwest price of $16 before the club discount. The pale ale kit cost $39.99 ($35.99 after the discount), compared to $34.99 for a comparable beer kit from Northern and $27.49 from Midwest before the discount.
On the flip side, gas and diesel ain't cheap, and neither is time spent in traffic. Drink globally, brew locally!
Brewer's Best English Pale Ale kit ingredients
The Brewer's Best kit from Hanover included the following:
8 oz of Brewer's Best crushed caramel specialty grains, vacuum-sealed in a plastic bag;
3.3 lbs of Muntons Light LME (liquid malt extract) in a can;
2 lbs of Brewer's Best Light DME (dry malt extract), vacuum-sealed in plastic bags
1 oz Brewer's Best Fuggle Bittering hops, vacuum-sealed in a plastic bag;
3/4 oz Brewer's Best Tettnang Flavoring hops, vacuum-sealed in a plastic bag;
1 oz of Brewer's Best/Hop Union aroma hops, vacuum-sealed in a plastic bag;
1 packet DanStar Nottingham Ale Yeast;
Brewer's Best priming sugar;
a mesh grain bag;
thorough and clear brewing instructions, including tips and cautions for each step and a customizable hop/boil schedule;
and 60 Brewer's Best bottle caps.
With the exception of the crushed and vacuum-sealed specialty grains, these are, by and large, the same or similar ingredients you get from the other suppliers -- and the kit I received was completely self-contained, including yeast, priming sugar, and caps. Nothing missing; nothing extra to remember. Brewing this morning went relatively smoothly; if anything, I found it easier to get the LME out of a can than a jug, and the single packet of dry yeast, rehydrated, has already produced a more robust fermentation in the first several hours that any Wyeast "smack-pack" I've used. (Hanover does not yet stock Wyeast or White Labs yeast for homebrewers -- but I'm not sure I missed them today!)
If you're interested in tasting the results of my morning brew session, I'll be sharing samples in early November at Catholic Man Night. In the meantime, as I mentioned, I picked up Furthermore's Fallen Apple (a cream ale/hard cider concoction from Wisconsin that started out apply and underwhelming for me, but quickly rallied -- I wound up enjoying it very much!) and scoped out the other Furthermore brews and autumn seasonals. I used to always shop Westside in Albertville for craft beers and imports, then switched to the massive wall o' brew available at Cash Wise in St. Michael -- but Hanover has stuff (like Furthermore) that I have yet to see anyplace else. The best of Minnesota, Wisconsin and Illinois brews, plus great beers from across the country and around the world -- check 'em out, and
support our local brew store!
We will be holding a club brew session at Butch Nielsen's garage on Saturday, Oct. 13, beginning just after lunch (around 1 p.m.). Anyone who wants to brew that day is welcome -- we will also be hosting the winner of our Bottomless Pint Brewers Introduction to Homebrewing package at the St. Michael Fall Festival Silent Auction, Joe Donlon, as he brews his first ale with us!
I'm sure there will be brews to sample. Feel free to bring snacks to share. If you plan to brew and do not have your own gear, let us know, as some of our extra gear (and most of our extra bottles) will be used for Joe's batch.
Our goal is to be done brewing by 5 p.m. or so in order to hold our first monthly club meeting, currently scheduled for the second Saturday of the month beginning at 6 p.m. This first meeting will be primarily focused on discussing what we hope to get out of the club, possible club activities or events you'd like to be a part of, etc. Future meetings won't always be preceded by a brew session, and will
generally include sampling, a short presentation on a beer- or brewing-related topic (like this one,) then general fraternity. Actual business will be kept to a minimum, we hope!
We encourage those who brew with us on Oct. 13 to stay for the meeting, and anyone who can't come early to try to join us at 6 p.m.
Summer has fled, and with it, the last of my light, effervescent English Bitter. The time has come for more robust brews: Oktoberfests, doppelbocks, strong ales, porters and stouts -- and for and end-of-summer recap. In addition to numerous impromptu weekend brew sessions in recent months, we grew our membership to 15 and provided a variety of brews to sample at Catholic Man Night with Archbishop Nienstedt in August. The men in attendance were highly complementary of the selection and brews themselves, and I believe we are on tap to do something similar in November
A gathering of Catholic men for Catholic Man Night in August.
Archbishop John Nienstedt speaks on
the topic of "Jesus Christ, Defender of the Family."
Another first for the club: we supplied a homebrewing sampler and Introduction to Homebrewing prize package for the Silent Auction at the St. Michael Catholic Church Fall Festival. The winner, St. Michael parishioner Joe Donlon, received a locally brewed sampler -- two bottles each of Honey Nut Brown Ale and Cream Ale by Karl Becker, two bottles of my English Bitter, and a large bottle of Mike Engel's Scottish Light Ale -- plus the opportunity to brew two cases of the ale of his choice with Bottomless Pint Brewers -- we supply the ingredients, the equipment, the bottles, everything. (We said we would even brew it for him, but it turns out, Joe is interested in brewing and was looking forward to trying it out without the expense of buying equipment and bottles.)
Our first Silent Auction prize package...
The Fall Festival was pleased with the results of this first BPB foray into the Silent Auction -- now all we have to do is brew great beer for Joe! The date for his brew session (the next club session) has been set for Saturday, Oct. 13, at Butch Nielsen's house -- we'll likely start in early afternoon. Anyone who wants to brew is welcome, so come on out!
I promised I'd give my gal-view of kits we've brewed so I figured I'd work a little bit backwards. The current brew in the keg is Pam Smith's Taddy Porter. It also happens to be my favorite so far. By my recollection, this is the third time we've brewed this kit from Midwest Brewing Supplies.
Butch brewed it this time in anticipation of our vacation (over Independence Day week) because my youngest sister, Anna was supposed to be there and she had tried it one of the other times we brewed it and she raved about it. She's got a refined palate so we respect her opinion about such things. Any time Butch gets such a positive response, he's bound to try to repeat the experience or try to improve upon it but this was the first time we kegged it (the other two times, we bottled).
Speaking of which, Butch is very very anti-bottling now that he has a keg. I'm afraid that when I bought him that thing, I may have created a keg snob. He's mostly afraid that we'll get some kind of major fail (happened before) but part of me thinks he's being a little bit lazy. I actually liked the bottling process and the ability to easily share the fruits of our labor but that's another story for another day.
Back to Pam:
My usual favorite beer is one that has at least some of the following qualities:
1. I should be able to taste the main ingredient (besides the grain/s/yeast/hops) somewhere in there...i.e. if it has "citrus" on the label, I should be able to taste it, even if it's subtle
2. It should have some sort of "boldness" or strength. It should taste...well..."beery". That's the best way I can think to describe it. It shouldn't taste like Zima (stop laughing, you know you gave it a shot once when you were 21 or so) or some kind of horrible wine cooler.
3. It should have at least three flavors to it so that it tastes different on my lips, tongue and back of mouth and have some sort of aftertaste too.
4. I should smile after sipping it.
The first time I tasted the porter, I didn't really notice the hops but the flavor was sort of dark and smokey without being too un-sweet. How's that for a girl's description of things? Okay, so I'm not so sophisticated in my expressions. I think most people can relate to that! I liked it a lot. I smiled. I wanted more. It tasted super beery and wonderful. It was warm and it made me happy.
More specifically, The foamy top had a nice, yeasty flavor, the firstness of the sip brings a little bit of the hops to the fore, the middlish of the sip brings that sort of smokey flavor to the tongue and the aftertaste reminds me of how good the next sip is going to feel. After all of that, the bottom of the glass makes me hope that it's not yet time to clean out the keg for the next batch of whatever Butch decides to brew next!
I think that this is a great beer for a rich meal of some kind of savory kind of meat. It might be nice to have with some sort of hearty appetizers too (picture a big plate of wings, steak tips, or stuffed potatoes and not so much some kind of light vinaigrette frou frou salad or spinach and artichoke dip).
Anna did not end up coming to our family week so the keg stayed home. Good thing it did because I now have a glass of that scrumptious stuff sitting next to me as I type. I'm sure it would be all gone, had it traveled with us this week!
Next review: (my second favorite of all of the beers we done brewed) "The Chewy Belgian" hahaha, just kidding, it's actually called "Grand Cru" (but "The Chewy Belgian" would be a GREAT name for a beer, don't you think?).
A little more than a month ago, I embarked on my first solo brew. Prior to this, I had always done so with at least one other person brewing, and while the second set of eyes was certainly handy to avoid errors, the coordinated chaos of a group brew session (sharing sanitizer, aerators, wort chillers, etc.) meant that I hadn't really "locked down" the homebrewing process in my own mind.
Since we're headed into summer (and on the heels of my previous post "In Search of Small"), I opted for what I hoped would be a sunny-day-on-the-deck session brew: the English Bitter extract kit from Midwest Supplies.
It's a very simple and straightforward ale, so brewing went smoothly. Fermentation ramped up a bit slower than past brews, and then diminished rapidly once it peaked -- but I suppose this is not surprising for a session beer. (In fact, I hit my starting gravity number right on, and when I took a second hydrometer reading after I transferred the ale to the secondary, it had already finished.)
After two weeks in the bottle, the pour was a bubbly, with a thick white head. A somewhat thicker layer of sediment appears at the bottle of these bottles than past brews, but if you pour carefully, it stays put, and the appearance in the glass is deep straw in color and crystal clear. (The photo does not do this justice.) The aroma is hoppy, but not staggering; hops predominate the flavor, but do not dominate or overpower. I'm going to describe the malt flavor as "biscuit," but I'm assuming in this case that the biscuits in question are English cookies or crackers, not Southern comfort food. If you get a little of the sediment in your pour, you might mistake this for a pale wheat ale; otherwise, this is an easy-drinking and refreshing "small" pale ale that, at 3 to 3.5% alcohol, can be enjoyed in multiples while remaining coherent.
I would recommend this for new brewers as an easy kit, and to beer-lovers who are used to American pilsners and pale lagers as a great first step into the world of ales. You definitely get that fruitier and more complex ale flavor, in a beer that is just as easy to drink as a Leinie's and as refreshing as a Rolling Rock.
Last month I was challenged to put together a team and participate in the ultimate test of geeky manhood: an Axis & Allies tournament! This was no small challenge, given the complexity of the game, the fact that I am neither a big gamer (board or otherwise) nor a strong strategic thinker (I'm a from-the-gut/emotional type), and the experience of my opponent in this seeded tourney (20+ years). On the other hand, the penalty for not picking up the gauntlet was a year of being referred to (publicly, no doubt) as Mrs. Thorp -- so I accepted the challenge and formed a team.
I also volunteered to purchase beer for the event, one from each of the nations represented in the game. Here's how I broke it down:
Germany (Axis): Paulaner Oktoberfest-Marzen. Malty goodness, start to finish. So many choices for German beer, but I wanted something I hadn't tried before, from a good brewery (I've had Paulaner Doppelbock), and something a bit more substantial than a pilsner or a pale lager, since that was likely to be close to my Japanese brew. I prefer ales generally, but this was a solid choice.
Japan (Axis): Kirin Ichiban. I wanted a "representative" Japanese beer, and from what little I know about it, the big three beers of Japan are Sapporo, Kirin Ichiban, and Asahi. Read a couple of moderately positive reviews of Kirin; those and the legendary hooved monster on the label convinced me to go with Japan's oldest lager. Maybe a step above Miller or Budweiser in that you actually get a little malt and a whiff of hops, but otherwise, this is definitely a pale (pale!) lager.
U.S. (Allies): Anchor Steam. Anchor Liberty Ale or 21st Amedment's Brew Free or Die! IPA were my first thoughts, because of the patriotic names; however, I thought they might be hoppier than the players would like. I thought about picking up a Samuel Adams brew, then recalled that "steam" beer, or California common, is the original (and perhaps only?) native U.S. beer style: a lager brewed at ale temperatures from the pre-refrigeration days of the California Gold Rush. Smooth, clean, and easy to drink, with a nice balanced of malt and hops (tipped slightly toward the latter), Anchor Steam is one of my all-time favorite beers, and sort of sets the standard for this all-American style, so it was a shoo-in.
U.K. (Allies): Bass Pale Ale. Easy to drink even for Kirin fans, without being watered down. I've shared my love of Bass on these pages before and will make no apologies, since I was buying the beer.
U.S.S.R. (Allies): Baltika #6. I was worried about finding a Russian brew, since I'd never seen any in my favorite brew stores, but a friend assured me that Baltika is available in the Twin Cities. I sent a couple of emails (to Tournament Liquor in Blaine, which carries Baltika #6 -- a Baltic porter -- but was almost out, and Kramarczuk's Deli in Minneapolis, which cannot sell for consumption offsite) -- then learned from Kramarczuk's that Surdyk's on University carries it. I bought four 17(?)-ounce bottles at $2.50 apiece, and they were the highlight of the evening for the five of us to shared them. Black in color, with dark roasted malt and coffee flavors, and solid hop bitterness, in a unique, slightly hour-glassed bottle -- maybe not worth $2.50 on a daily basis, but worth it once in a while for change of pace. This beer stole the evening, and not just because I was playing the Russians.
Our team played until 2 a.m. We were the good guys and the underdogs: we battled a much more experienced to a draw, I would say -- but they looked at the board, saw the U.K. and the U.S. stacking up against Europe and the Russian infantry bloody but unbroken in Moscow, and conceded. Completely unexpected -- but victory went to the side with the better beers!
Eleven men showed; three brewed, including first-timer Kurt, vice president Mike, and treasurer Karl, who showed off and put to good use (for the first time) his all-grain set-up. Secretary Jim gave a brief primer on ale and lager styles, and we shared samples of El Presidente's hopped-up Bass Ale brew (which turned into more of a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Bob Z's stout, Mike's copper ale, Jim's Pete's Wicked clone, and more. Lunch was hotdogs and chips; special thanks to Mike for the "goat dogs" -- delicious pronghorn sausage. Great first event; can't wait for the next!
Bottomless Pint Brewers is hosting its inaugural club meeting and brew session on Saturday, April 28, beginning at 10 a.m. at the garage of Butch Nielsen. Join us to brew or see how it's done, sample some solid homemade beer, and enjoy the fellowship of good men. If you need help getting there, email the club or consider following us over following Saturday morning Mass as St. Michael Catholic Church. Mass begins at 8 a.m. and should be done between 8:30 and 9 -- c'mon over and help with set-up!
We will also share a short presentation on the differences between lagers (what most people drink) and ales (what most people brew), and offer pointers on what styles of beer best match your personal preferences. A "quick and dirty" guide* is available online and at the event, as well as books, magazines, catalogs, and other resources.
We will also have the grill going -- please feel free to bring meat to grill for lunch or snacks for the good of the order! Look forward to seeing you there. God bless!
*Please note that this guide is not an expert take on beer styles, but rather a useful starting point from which we can begin to talk about what guys like and don't like. (It's also based on my own opinions.)
**Underscoring the differences of opinion, even among experts...
When I first began to cultivate a taste for what are now called "craft" brews, Pete's Wicked was a brand to be reckoned with -- not only because they made decent beer, but more importantly, because they seemed ubiquitous: every store, bar, or restaurant that made an effort at having something "dark" on tap had either Pete's or Sam Adams. The actual shade of the beer didn't matter -- it was a step above Killian's, and thus was more beer than most patrons wanted to tackle. That sufficed to define it as dark.
I haven't had, or even seen, Pete's Wicked Ale in some time, and I recently discovered the reason: rapidly declining sales put it out of business a year ago. But the fact that it was started by a couple of California homebrewers (I had heard Minnesota and Wisconsin, but apparently not) and the fact that, with Sam Adams, Anchor, and Bell's, Pete's is credited with helping to kick off the craft brew revolution, warrant a clone kit at Midwest Supplies, dubbed Peter's Wicked Ale. This was what I brewed in February.
Two mishaps occurred in the process -- one completely minor, and one potentially major. On the minor end, I forgot altogether to take hydrometer readings, so I have no idea about the alcohol content of the brew. The potentially major issue stemmed from the fact that be brewed at a new location and that none of the brewers present had a wort chiller. I was the first ready to cool, and attempted to use a snow bank, which took probably an hour and a half -- plenty of time to introduce bacteria or other contaminants to the brew.
Fortunately, the flavor as I transferred from primary to secondary was promising, and the flavor at bottling even more so. After two weeks in the bottle, I opened two lukewarm bottles to instant eruptions of foam, but after deep chilling, three subsequent bottles have opened and poured perfectly.
Brown ales are always not the most exciting of brews; many seem to me to fall somewhere between solid and inoffensive (if not particularly memorable) to overly ___________ (insert a relevant adjective from the label: if it's a Nut Brown, then "nutty," if it's a Maple Brown, then "syrupy sweet"). It's been so long since I enjoyed Pete's Wicked -- and I do recall enjoying it -- that I had to dust off Bob Klein's Beer Lover's Rating Guide and see what he had to say back in the day:
"Lovely burnt caramel taste with fizziness; emerging sweetness as ale warms...not as thick and full-bodied as it could be, but still welcoming with its blend of warmth, fruitiness, and smoothness..."
Klein says a great deal more, especially with regard to specific food pairings, but this excerpt suffices for comparison's sake, since this is a clone kit (and since my palate is not nearly so refined). My version tastes to me a little less of burnt caramel and a little more of almonds and sweet whole grain bread; the head is substantial, but short-lived, leaving just a trace of Brussels lace that tracks slowly down the glass. It is, in fact, a bit sweeter as it warms, but is never overwhelming or cloying -- "not as thick or full-bodied as it could be," but it's certainly smooth and it drinks easily.
This is not a beer to knock your socks off, but it is, in my opinion, a big step above "solid and inoffensive" -- this is good brown ale!
I opened my first two bottles of the Pete's Wicked Ale clone I brewed back in February. I hadn't really chilled the first, and as soon as I cracked it, it instantly foamed over -- I wound up with less than half a pint glass of good brown ale. What little I got was tasty enough that I wanted more, so I I put another in the fridge, thinking perhaps I jostled the first bottle or got a flukey one. Unfortunately, the second one erupted, too.
I'm chilling a couple bottles now -- trying to get them good and cold, recalling that gases dissolved better in cold liquids. It's possible that I didn't sufficiently or evenly mix my priming sugar (I don't rack to a bottling bucket, and stirring through carboy neck is challenging) but I've never had this problem before. Wish me luck!
I was talking to Our Fearless Leader awhile back about our mutual love of beer and, more recently, of brewing.
“I want to try everything!” Butch said. “Why not?”
Why not indeed? I was blessed to have a mentor in my introduction to beer, a young man who started me on craft brews and imports instead of Crispix lagers.* I believe I have consumed at least one example of every defined style of both ales and lagers, and I have loved at least one example of most of them. As I grew accustomed to various styles, I developed more of a taste for hops, and found myself drawn to breweries from the Pacific Northwest – Red Hook and Rogue were favorites – but after a six-pack or a couple of big bottles, I often found myself drawn back to more classic ales: English bitters, pales and porters; Irish stouts; and Scottish and Scotch ales.
* * * * *
Even now, with so many beers to choose from, I usually have a little Bass Ale on hand – a consistent, easy drinker that always pleases me. And since I’ve begun brewing, I’ve made…a basic English Pale Ale kit from Northern Brewer, and a basic Irish Stout kit and a Peter’s Wicked clone – a brown ale – from Midwest Supplies.
These are not beers that attract attention on a menu. Do I fear complexity or prefer plain? No – I’ll gladly try the latest malt-ilicious, hop-tastic concoction from the great craft brewers here in Minnesota and nationally, but when it comes to spending time and money on brewing my own – and generating two cases’ worth of any one kind – I like what I like. I like flavor, but I also like balance. I like quintessential examples of classic styles. I like easy drinkers.
* * * * *
I’ve never been one to drink to excess. I remember a gathering of in-laws at Gasthof zur Gemutlichkeit in Minneapolis, during which I drank a few mugs of my choice of beer, then twice found myself holding The Boot – a large glass pitcher of pilsner in the shape of, you guessed it, a boot – as the polka band ceased its festive wail, thereby obligating me to polish it off.** A short while later I rose to nature’s call, and found my head swimming in amber nectar. I resumed my seat, and said to Jodi that I thought I’d sit still awhile. My cheeks were warm; my tongue, thick – and I didn’t like the feeling.
You can say that I can’t hold my liquor – I’m okay with that. What bothers me most is that I genuinely enjoy good beer, and like to drink it and remember it. After three or so, I begin to lose track.
* * * * *
So a couple of weeks ago, I was browsing Anchor Brewing, source of two of my favorite brews (Anchor Steam and Anchor Porter), and ran across this page for Anchor Small Beer. Made from the second runnings from the grains of Anchor Old Foghorn Barleywine, it recalls an English Bitter and boasts a modest alcohol content of 3.3 percent. Small beer, apparently, is a style I hadn’t known. Anchor is brewing small beer, in an era of Big Beers. They call it “the original session beer.” Session beer is a phrase I’ve heard before, and I’ve gathered it means, roughly, a good multi-serving, social beer – a beer for a bull session.
Then last week, I ran across The Session Beer Project, which is dedicated to “small” beers. According to the proprietor, Lew Bryson, session beers are:
4.5% alcohol by volume or less (some say
flavorful enough to be interesting
balanced enough for multiple pints
conducive to conversation
reasonably priced
The idea is that you can drink multiple pints of the same good brew and enjoy your dinner, argue with friends, or frame the Constitution and be none to worse for wear. This is not “near beer” – as I understand it, this is real beer, but meant as a tasty beverage to enhance an experience, not as an experience in itself. This is my kind of beer.
I want to be a session brewer.
I had already said my next kit would be an English Bitter – coincidentally enough, a session brew. I want beer I can serve to whoever stops by, breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I want beer I can drink, and still get my work done. I want to create a great session porter. A session stout. A session saison.
Go big or go home? I’m heading home – to a fridge full of session brews.
* * * * *
*Made with corn and rice, naturally… **Once it was in my hands, and once it was in the hands of a diminutive older aunt, and I did the gentlemanly thing.
Pictured is my final pint of English Pale Ale, brewed last September and poured and consumed tonight. (Yes, Butch, I hoard my homebrew -- yours, too; there's a bottle of your second batch of Autumn Amber in my fridge, if you're interested.) You may recall that my big complaint was that the beer wouldn't pour or hold a head (as shown in the photo below, which accompanied my original post).
Now four months later, the last two bottles poured with a creamy, persistent layer of delicious foam that lasted the entire glass. Are my glasses finally clean? Or does it get that much better with age? Oh, but they were good, friends -- cheers!
It’s almost time to bottle my fourth batch of homebrewed beer, a clone of Pete’s Wicked Ale brewed from a Midwest kit, which means I ought to finally report on batch three…The Experiment.
The Experiment came about like this: not long after my successful Irish Stout, some friends were gathering to brew again. I didn’t have the money to purchase another kit — but I did have a “can kit” left over from a misguided venture (retold here) into brewing a decade or so earlier when we still lived in Michigan. The can was a Munton’s Export Stout kit, containing hopped dark malt syrup and abridged instructions. I had a leftover packet of dry brewer’s yeast from my Irish Stout kit (I used a Wyeast packet instead) and, stealing an idea from a molasses stout recipe I’d seen online, I spent a few dollars on raw cane sugar to add to the mix in place of several cups of corn sugar. If all went well, I would have two cases of good dark beer for about five bucks.
I did not follow the instructions to the letter, but combined them with my past two brewing experiences – which means, primarily, that I boiled the ingredients longer. Fermentation was robust the first few days, as expected — the smell from the airlock was sweeter that the Irish stout had been, but with a whiff of hops. Unfortunately I forgot to take a hydrometer reading before sealing the primary fermenter, then dropped and broke my hydrometer during the transfer process. Since I had already drawn a sample during the transfer, I took the opportunity to taste the flat, room-temperature brew. It was sweet—not quite cloying, but sweeter than I had hoped—reminding me at first swallow more of a doppelbock than a stout (or even Samuel Adams Triple Bock, which Dad and I tried once and (like many others) did not enjoy).
I taste it again at bottling and was again struck by the sweetness. I had read that the raw sugar could lend a “rum” taste to the brew; I hoped the carbonated bottles would not be too sweet to be drinkable.
I opened the first bottle a few weeks ago. It was poorly carbonated, winey, and sweet. I drank about half the bottle and wasn’t crazy about it, but swirled the remained bottles and moved them to a warm place in hopes of further carbonating them. I tried another earlier this month, and while the carbonation was better, the head was still thin, fizzy, and brown, and the beer itself was simply too sweet for my taste. I probably should’ve used corn sugar as recommended, but at least I’ve seen something of the effect of raw sugar in that rummy/winey taste.
In the end, I dumped all but 12 bottles, which I kept for cooking. This weekend I cooked a pot roast in one – seared it first in a cast iron pan with olive oil, then put it in the crock pot with one bottle of The Experiment, two yellow onions (chunked), garlic salt, pepper, and Worchester sauce, and let it cook most of the day. The resulting meat was delicious – so the remaining 11 bottles will be good for something!
Well, it's more or less official: St. Michael and Albertville, Minnesota, have a Catholic men's group/homebrewing club called Bottomless Pint Brewers! We are finalizing a draft charter -- our preliminary mission statement is below.
Mission
Bottomless Pint Brewers seeks to create lasting fraternal bonds among its members by:
Encouraging the art and science of homebrewing, improving the knowledge base of aspiring brewers, and fostering the responsible enjoyment of well-crafted beer;
Reinforcing the joy and vitality of manhood and the essential role of men—husbands and fathers; sons and brothers—in preserving our families, communities, and country; and
Deepening the faith of its members through shared activities and casual conversation with other Catholic men, as well as other more formal opportunities for evangelization and catechesis.
We hope to ramp up slowly through this spring and summer. Activities under consideration for the club include:
Club brewing sessions,
Homebrewing-related discussion groups or guest speakers,
Beer tastings and club socials for members and their spouses or guests,
A “Theology on Tap” guest speaker series, with beer (of course) and topics relevant to Catholic men and their spouses or guests,
Pub outings, brewery tours, or brewing courses in the Twin Cities and the surrounding area,
And competitions or other special events.
We are in the process of being recognized and listed by the American Homebrewers Association -- that, and official membership cards should earn members a discount at Midwest Supplies and other local brewer stores. We are considering modest annual dues (on the order of $10) to help offset the cost of producing membership cards, to pay for shared supplies like cleaner and sanitizer, etc. We hope the discount and camaraderie will more than make up for this charge, but please feel free to weigh in with a comment.
If you think you may be interested in the brewing process, in brewing your own beer yourself, or even in just trying homebrewed beer, we would love to hear from you! Email us at bottomlesspint@gmail.com or find us on Facebook at Bottomless Pint Brewers. Cheers!
One of the cooler things I received for Christmas, as an aspiring brewer and literary type (also aspiring), was this t-shirt from The Brewing Network, which features Scottish poet Robert Burns's version of the old folk song, "John Barleycorn" (or "John Barleycorn Must Die") in the shape of a brewing carboy. The poem tells barley's story from planting to brewing as a ballad and a tale of heroic sacrifice. The words are below, but to hear a proper reading, check out the YouTube clip at the bottom.
John Barleycorn
by Robert Burns
There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.
The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.
His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.
They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.
They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him further woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.
And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.
'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy;
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
Photo by Trevor
I love The Brewing Network's other shirts and its "hop grenade" logo. I haven't checked out any of the radio shows or podcasts yet. It must be a small outfit, since the emails Jodi exchanged when ordering this shirt were signed "Linda, Justin's Mom."
Anyway, check out the reading below, then check out The Brewing Network.
My second batch of homebrew was an Irish Stout kit from Midwest Supplies, fermented with the recommended Wyeast packet in the same glass carboys and set-up used for my first batch. Brewing came off without a hitch, except that I forgot to take an initial hydrometer reading and then broke my hydrometer before taking a reading the afternoon I transferred to the secondary fermenter. (All this means is that I have no real idea regarding alcohol content, though from the feeling in my cheeks and ears, I'd say around 4.5 to 5 percent.)
The kit contained a small packet of gypsum, which (as I understand it) can be used to tweak the pH of your water, but in this context, is used to accentuate the bitterness of the brew and give you a drier stout. The wort tasted stoutish, and the samples at racking and bottling both tasted like flat stout...all good signs in my book.
The final result? This is good beer, like the non-draught bottled Guinness I used to buy, only (dare I say?) better. Like strong French roast coffee, hearty bread dark-toasted, with a pleasant prickliness that grabs your tongue on the way down. [Blogger's Note: I may be biased, since it's mine, my own, my...prrrrecious!] I've had one bottle chilled and several at basement temperature (around 65 degrees F), and all have been delicious, though the warmer ones are decidedly better in my book.
Complaints? I definitely get a better head with these (see the top photo), but it still lingers only a few minutes. Also, I had hoped to make an all-homebrew black and tan with one my few remaining English pale ales, but despite my Dad's insistence that he has successfully pour a black and tan with non-draught stout, I failed on multiple attempts. The resulting mistakes were consumed, of course, and fortunately tasted like good dark beer.
My next brew awaits bottling. It's a bit of an experiment using an old stout kit from a decade ago. More on that when the time comes. In the meantime, as Dad and I would say, "Na zdrowie!"*
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*Na zdrowie (nah ZDRO-vee-ah) is a Polish toast meaning "to your health."
Blogger's Note: I had another beer-related post in mind for tonight, but ran out of creative juices. This piece originally appear under the headline above as a column in the February 24, 1998, edition of The Pioneer daily newspaper in Big Rapids, Michigan. It explains the origins and peculiarities of my love of beer. So gosh-darn cute and innocent, too. Oh, yes ... and this awesome poster image above? Not mine, but it can be purchased from the creative minds at Pop Chart Labs. Check it out!
"Bread is the staff of life,
but beer is life itself."
— old English proverb
The world is home to beer drinkers and beer lovers, and most often the two are not the same.
The majority of beer drinkers care little about the alchemy at work in converting bread and water into those heady concoctions known collectively as beer. Most beer drinkers buy their beverages in packs of twelve or more and are content believing that born-on dates and pure mountain water are the two most important elements in choosing a beer.
Ever wonder why the less expensive domestic beers tend to tout their water? As beer judge and connoisseur Bob Klein said about one American brew, "...take away that crisp, clean, fresh liquid, and it'd hard to tell what you have left." Commercial breweries — those with "vats the size of Rhode Island" — speak highly of their water to avoid the Crispix debate: Which tastes better, the corn or the rice?
Barley, my friends — barley, hops yeast and water [Blogger's Addendum: And occasionally a little wheat...] give us ales and lagers; porters, stouts, lambics, pilsners, bocks and barley-wines.
The world is home to a great many beers, and I am a beer lover.
I began drinking regularly at the "proper" time in my life — my twenty-first birthday — which has given me interesting perspectives on beer and drinking. (At least I think they're interesting — they seem more so over a room-temperature Guinness.) I drank my first beer when I was three, sitting on my daddy's knee one summer day at a family barbecue. I was holding his beer for him, and asked if I could have a sip. Dad said sure, assuming, I'm certain, that I wouldn't like it.
I took a sip, and sat quietly for awhile, the took another.
A short while later, Dad took the can from me and was surprised to find it all but empty.
Did I like it? Did I get sick? I don't remember. [Blogger's Note: I do, however, remember the brand. Because I loved the jingle.]
I did not taste beer again until my twenty-first birthday — seriously. I did it then for two reasons: first, because I was of age — a sort of rite of passage — and second, because my future in-laws were drinkers of beer, and although they never pressured me to do so, I felt I'd like to be able to share the experience with them, and more importantly, be able to offer Jodi's father and brothers a beer when they came to visit us.
A couple of college buddies took me out to dinner that day and ordered me a respectable brew: Sam Adams Boston Lager. It was bitter, nasty, and I drank only half of it. My friends — good friends that they are — said the beer was on them, and to enjoy it or not at my discretion.
Still, I was determined to find a beer that liked. The following week, another friend, Steve, introduced me to a raspberry wheat beer ("If you can drink any beer, it's this one — it doesn't even taste like beer!" he said) and Woodchuck hard cider (not beer at all). Both were easy to drink, fruity and flavorful. Neither could be offered to Jodi's brothers with any sort of self-respect.
Steve took it upon himself to introduce me to a couple of new beers every week — the following week it was the English classic, Bass Pale Ale, and I was hooked. It was over that first Bass that I first gasped the mystical nature of beer. It occurred to me that, on first swallow, I thought Bass tasted pretty good; the second sip was better, and the more I drank, the more my taste buds relaxed, no longer bracing themselves against the bitterness of the hops or the sting of carbonation. I began to note intricacies of flavor I'd never noticed before, and I felt a certain oneness with the beer, until I was no longer certain who loved whom. I smiled at the revelation that I was no longer sure whether Bass tasted good or felt good, and smiled again at the notion that both were likely true, and it was impossible to extricate one from other.
As the weeks went on, Steve introduced me to a world of other beers — some black, some red, some brown, some yellow, and most very friendly. I discovered that when I discussed these beers with others, not everyone felt the same as I. Some beer drinkers liked only light beers, for example, and some beer drinkers, irrational as it seems, didn't like beer at all.
Which is why I say I began consuming beer, and it me, at the proper time. I drink beer because I enjoy the taste (some of which, I'll admit, is acquired — I do like Boston Lager now, especially on a hot day). I also began drinking beers A) not readily available in groups bigger than six, and B) too expensive to drink in mass quantities.
I remember a German exchange student in high school who could not understand her American friends' fascination with sneaking off with a case of beer to get drunk. In Germany, she drank beer with meals as just another beverage, and she didn't look at beer (especially American brews) as any sort of thrill or high.
I understand that now, but not everyone does.
Jodi and I had gone to a bar one evening with some friends of hers from work. I ordered a tall black and tan (a truly beautiful drink — the magic of physics causes Guinness Extra Stout to float atop Bass Pale Ale, and the layers remain separate: Irish and English, dark and light, yin and yang...). A short while later, I tried a Polish brew, in honor of my mother's heritage.
When my glass was again dry, I ordered a Samuel Adams Honey Porter. I do not drink to excess — after two beers, I was very relaxed and drank the third with scarcely a second's thought.
As I drained the glass, I realized that I had no idea what Sam Adams Honey Porter tasted like. When I voiced my disappointment, everyone except Jodi looked as me as thought I were nuts: "You don't have an impression of your last beer? That's a new one." "Yeah — who'd want to remember?"
I tried brewing once, probably a decade ago, in Michigan. I had pretty basic equipment, and a kit from a big can, and I did it with The Complete Joy of Homebrewing to provide too much information and with no mentor to filter it.
It was a train-wreck. Among other things, my standard of cleanliness was nowhere near brewing standards, and in mid-boil, my third-grade teacher called (seriously?!) because she had heard I was back in Michigan and wanted to reconnect (SERIOUSLY?!?).* I made enough mistakes that the wort (pronounced "wert") never so much as belched, let alone bubbled. For a couple weeks I had a murky brown liquid in my basement, stagnant as swamp water. Then I dumped it. Nobody told me I could get new yeast and re-pitch it in hopes of starting fermentation. I kept the equipment, but never went back to it.
Now I have a slew of friends who brew, or have brewed, and lots of practical experience to guide me. So back in September, four of us got together to brew: a porter, two 90 Shilling clones, and an English pale ale, my choice, because Bass Ale has long been my consistent favorite beer to drink, any time, any place.
Brewing notes:
Brewing went smoothly until late in the process. The first sign of a potential problem was after I loaded my fermenter in the van to return home, and noticed that the disinfected water filling my airlock was slowly, but steadily, dripping into my brew. I refilled the airlock, drove home, then looked at the temp gauge on the side of the fermenter, and saw that it was still pushing 80 degrees. I was not supposed to pitch the yeast into the wort until the temp was down to 78 degrees -- and if you pitch it too hot, the heat can kill the yeast. The dripping airlock was a signal -- as the sealed fermenter cooled, the pressure lowered, drawing the airlock fluid down.
My brewing friends were already reporting active fermentation, and nothing was happening on my end. I did some quick googling and learned: 1) It can be a couple days before things really get percolating; 2) yeast are tough, and can survive temps up around 100 degrees without any real ill-effects; and 3) if it didn't take off in a couple days, I could get new yeast and try again.
My fears were ill-founded, as it turned out: by that evening, the airlock was bubbling merrily.
We brewed on Sept. 3. Within a couple of days, the fermenter was bubbling steadily every couple seconds; over the course of the next week it decelerated by about half each day. By Sept. 15, active fermentation had ceased, and I transferred the brew to my secondary fermenter. I bottled on Oct. 9. On all three dates, the hydrometer showed about 4.5 percent alcohol, and the taste started out good (as wort) and improved steadily.
Beer notes:
The flavor is good: malt and hops balance well, with no "off" flavors so far. Chilled bottled drink very smoothly and easily -- a little too smoothly, in fact -- the colder it is, the harder it is to taste much of anything. At first I thought it was more like an English bitter (which, strangely, are less bitter than pale ales), but at closer to room temperature, the flavor and mouthfeel seem to "thicken up" a bit. (Not sure if that makes sense, but there you are...) At warmer temps, it reminds me more of Old Speckled Hen than Bass...though it's been years since I've had Old Speckled Hen. Guess I'm due for a refresher, in case I'm misremembering.
One problem (aside from the flavor being a little too faint): it does not hold a head. I get about half or three-quarters of an inch of foam that quickly disappears. This may be an issue of glass cleanliness, but I don't think so. We've also encountered one flat bottle that appears to have been inadequately capped. (Sorry, Butch -- you didn't have to drink it!)
This English Pale Ale kit came from Northern Brewer in St. Paul, and was brewed using Wyeast 1945 NB Neobrittania. I hope to compare it to the Brass Ale kit (a Bass clone kit) from Midwest Supplies in the near future. This coming weekend, however, I'm brewing Midwest's Irish Stout. Wish me luck!
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*Turns out she had a "money-making opportunity" she wanted to share with me and my wife -- one of four people from my past who emerged that year to try to get me to sell Amway.
When I first began to cultivate a taste for what are now called "craft" brews, Pete's Wicked was a brand to be reckoned with -- not only because they made decent beer, but more importantly, because they seemed ubiquitous: every store, bar, or restaurant that made an effort at having something "dark" on tap had either Pete's or Sam Adams. The actual shade of the beer didn't matter -- it was a step above Killian's, and thus was more beer than most patrons wanted to tackle. That sufficed to define it as dark.
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