Homebrew X: Belgian Stout

At long last, another post: This spring I brewed Northern Brewer's limited edition Mustache Envy Belgian Stout, concocted for Men's Health Month (Mo-vember). I brewed the week before hernia surgery, so the wort spent a little extra time in the primary fermenter and a lot of extra time in the secondary. About halfway through the time in the secondary, I realized I had forgotten the oak cube, so I threw them in and gave it a little more.

This past Sunday I transferred it to the keg. I had planned to bottle this batch and keg a summery brew, but since I'm hosting a brew session this weekend and wanted something to sample, I changed my mind. Worse comes to worse, I'll use the homemade counter-pressure bottle filler Dad and I built to bottle off the keg.

After three days in the keg I dropped the pressure and pulled the pint pictured here. It pours a murky chocolate brown, with about a half inch of creamy head. The aroma is dark malt and oak. The taste is dark fruits, oak, Guinness and sweet red wine -- balanced, but with little discernible hop aroma or flavor. It is murky brown from top to bottom, like the Tahquamenon when it's running high with spring runoff, and it strikes me that it will get better with age. That's a happy thought, since it's pretty solid to start with!

If you're reading this and in the greater St. Michael-Albertville area, a couple of us will be brewing on Sunday from noon to 4 or so at the Thorp garage. Next up for me is Northern's California Common kit -- a hybrid brew (a lager brewed at ale temps) based on the authentic American beer style known as steam. (Anchor Steam is a long time favorite of mine, though whether it taste anything like historic steam beer I do not know.) Feel free to stop by and sample some Mustache Envy -- and if you'd like to brew, you're welcome to do so. Cheers!

Homebrew IX: Dunkelweizen

Dunkelweizen.

Most of you locals know that the local hobby shop, Kremer's Toy and Hobby, sells Brewer's Best homebrewing kits and supplies, and they often run specials. So a while back I went in with a few extra bucks and a coupon, and decided to brew my first wheat beer -- not some lemony summer brew, either, but a dunkelweizen, a relative rarity among the imports and craft brews crowding local beer shelves. My dad likes a dunkel when he can get it, and Weihenstephaner seems the most frequently available to me (and a world-class example, apparently). Both Beer Advocate and Rate Beer describe dunkels as what I would call "swampy" beers: dark, murky, yeasty, unfiltered beers, brown in color, earthy in flavor.

This dunkel brings the fruit and the funk of wheat beers, big time. Both websites above mention banana and clove notes, but I tend to taste pear undertones in mine. It is same murky brown of the Tahquamenon River when it's swollen with runoff, with a sour yeastiness that is far more enjoyable that it sounds and serves in the place of hops to balance the sweetness of the grain. It comes off the keg with a thick, creamy head and invites sip after sip. A good fall brew that's a big change of pace for me -- hope you like it, too!

Homebrew VIII: Brunch Stout

Brunch stout.

Thought I’d share a quick review of my latest brew, Northern Brewer’s Brunch Stout from an extract kit. It’s the first beer I’ve kegged, and the most complex kit I’ve brewed – and while I’m enjoying it thoroughly, I would do a few things differently next time.

First off, I started with 6.5 gallons of water, as opposed to 5.5 or 6, which is my usual starting point. As a result, this stout (though by no means a BIG beer) is perhaps not quite as “big” as it ought to be.

Second, in addition to a massive amount of specialty grains and a pound of Belgian Candi Syrup (from beets and dates, as I recall), this kit contains a full pound of French roast coffee. The instructions say to crush the whole beans coarsely and add them to the wort, which I did. They do not say whether or not to remove them – I used a wire colander to scoop all that I could back out of the wort at the end of the boil, but some remained for the length of primary fermentation.

The result? Northern describes their brunch stout this way:

Brunch: a portmanteau of "breakfast" and "lunch". Brunch Stout: a collision of brunch as a particularly indulgent meal time, and a particularly indulgent stout. 60 IBUs, loaded with sumptuous malt, acidic and tangy coffee, and wildly fruity Candi syrup, this is a stout that does not know when to stop. There's something here for every interpretation of this decadent mid-cycle ritual, from the sweet to the savory, the simple to the intricate. Explore the limits of American-style stout as you know it with your new deviously delicious companion.

By contrast, what streams from my tap is a nice coffee stout, nearly black with a creamy mocha head. The flavor, to my palate, is almost exclusively strong black coffee and dark roasted malt, with more French-roast bitterness than hops. A pint left to warm a bit acquires some dark fruit hints as it approaches room temperature: blueberries and plums, perhaps, but they’re subtle. It reminds me of Guinness Foreign Extra or Sierra Nevada’s Narwhal Imperial Stout – a great stout, but not quite the multilayered egg-bake of a beer described.

Next time: Less water, and the coffee goes in a hops bag – plus I might screen it as it goes into the primary fermenter.

Homebrew VII: Irish Draught Ale

Spring has been slow in coming this year; as I write, the trees outside are being plastered white by an April snowstorm, and the cold of the basement concrete is seeping through my wool socks to the soles of my feet. Inside, however, I am warmed by my latest homebrew: Northern Brewer's Irish Draught Ale extract kit.

I had intended to brew this in time for the Feast of St. Patrick, but A) I got a late start, and B) I had given up beer for Lent. I had the right idea, though -- this is a beer for a blustery spring day, with just enough malt heft to hold its own against that last winter ale in the back of the fridge, and enough oat-n-honey smoothness to make it an easy drinker and thirst-quencher. The color is a ruddy, beer-bottle brown (depending on the light); the head pours thick and dissipates quickly. The flavor isn't like any other beer I recall -- I expected something like a Smithwick's or a creamier English pale ale, I guess, and that's not wrong, but not quite right either. The aroma is fruity, leaning almost to cider; the taste is roasted malt sweetness, but with enough hop bite to let you know that this is real, good ale.

I like it -- but more than that, I'm intrigued. Here's a beer recipe with a single ounce of Cluster hops to balance five-plus pounds of malt extract and a pound of honey. Here's a brew with a malty flavor unlike any I recall, that makes use of Maris-Otter malt, a long-time favorite of traditional English ale brewers that (I believe) only recently has become widely available to budding brewers like me. And as I drink it, I can't help but think this is a beer meant for kegging -- or maybe even nitrogen.

I'll brew this again. I joked with a friend that, in honor of the Virgin Mary, I was going to serve this at our Big Brew Day on Saturday, May 4, as Crown of Creation Irish Draught Ale. It may not be quite that immaculate, but this is a solid homebrew and a Real. Good. Ale.

Homebrew VI: St. Paul Porter

Dark and pleasantly bitter...

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.

Chickit Review: Pam Smith's Taddy Porter

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?).

Homebrew V: English Bitter

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.

Board Game Brews

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!

Homebrew IV: Peter's Wicked Ale

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!

Homebrew I+: English Pale Ale, Revisited

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!

Homebrew III: The Experiment

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!

Homebrew II: Irish Stout

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."

Homebrew I: English Pale Ale

It's official: I'm a home-brewer.

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.