Krausen Rising

I keep reading about SAB Miller’s new line of “Craft Lite” beers. It’s driving me nuts. The Brookston Beer Bulletin has a good post reviewing the beers and some of what’s been said before on the subject. This new Craft Lite bullshit is SAB Miller doing the same thing that corporate America did to the various radical 60s movements, punk rock, etcetera, etcetera. They are throwing money at a marketing scheme in an attempt to own a concept (craft beer) that grew organically in the underground, away from the screaming billboards and Superbowl commercials, because they’ve seen that a lot of people are hearing about craft beer and checking it out. Of course, if you’ve just heard the term craft beer, maybe a Coor’s Blue Moon Wit will be a revelation to your palate, and if you are typical, you’ll stop there, never discovering the joy of a full-flavored wit (a pretty light flavored beer to begin with), and certainly never experiencing a beer as extreme and well-crafted as, say, a Stone Pale.

One thing in that Brookston post kind of bothered me (the first part of the following quote is from an interview with a suit at SAB Miller; the second is Mr. Brooks’ reaction):

All-malt is at the core of how “craft” brewers define their products. Would you say you disagree? First, it’s important to note that these are not intended to be craft beers and are not targeted at craft drinkers. These are craft-style light beers. Additionally, “all malt” is one, but not the only, criteria that defines craft beer. The Brewers Association describes craft as beers brewed with a traditional process using malted and specialty grains, hops, water and yeast to deliver the aroma, taste and appearance characteristics not typically found in mainstream beers. That’s what we’re delivering — a unique consumer taste experience not typically found in light beers and consistent with craft-style beer.

Hmm, maybe I’m mis-reading that but it sounds like Manuele is suggesting that a brewery could skirt one of the requirements for being considered a craft brewer and still be one. But my understanding of the three-prong definition of a craft brewer (see below) is that all three criteria must be met. Anything less, and you’re not a craft brewer (at least by the BA definition). He interprets the definition of what qualifies as a craft beer as something with flavors “not typically found in mainstream beers” and then suggests that the new craft-style light beers could qualify because they provide a “unique consumer taste experience not typically found in light beers and consistent with craft-style beer.” That’s a pretty tortured bit of logic, I must say. He’s defining by using the negative, saying that since it’s not this, it must be that. Not so fast. Just because something tastes different or isn’t as typical (assuming that point can even be conceded) doesn’t make it something else.

I could make an apple pie with no apples, substituting Ritz crackers, and it might taste something like an apple pie. But I don’t think anyone would let me get away with still calling it an authentic apple pie, because it’s missing a key element of apple pie, namely apples. Likewise, craft beer that isn’t all-malt really isn’t. The only exception to not using all-malt ingredients and having the brew still considered a craft beer is if they “use adjuncts to enhance rather than lighten flavor.” And while Manuele claims they used “wheat and corn for taste, lightness and refreshment” (perhaps trying to combine them), who doesn’t believe that while the wheat may impart taste and refreshment, the corn is only there for lightness.

I agree, of course, with his basic premise, but the OCD apprentice brewer in me got all puffed up and pissy about one niggling point. My problem with that statement is, actually, adjuncts like sugar are often used to lighten beer. According at least to my understanding from copious field tests, and also Brew Like a Monk, that’s the point of adding sugar to, say, a trippel. The sugar adds alcohol content while keeping the color light and the body a bit lighter, which goes a long way to explaining why a lot of 8-9+% Belgian beers are so damned drinkable. Compare an all-malt barleywine or imperial stout to a Belgian style beer of just as high ABV brewed with sugar added.

This whole issue drives me to despair. The truth is, Miller adds adjuncts to keep flavor down. That’s why Miller beers are boring as all get out. I will happily escort by the elbow down to Speisekammer any macro beer drinker and buy said heretic a god damned Weltenburger Helles. Now there is an ultralight, ultra flavorful all-malt lager done right.

I guess that’s a subtle point. You add sugar to a high-ABV beer to keep it from being syrupy. You add sugar to a low-ABV beer to keep it from being tasty.

But back to the despair. I despair because the good guys never win these debates in any meaningful manner. It’s part of the essential workings of this here world of illusion. Truth is, SAB Miller will redefine craft beer the way Epitaph/Fat Wreck redefined punk rock into the Epifat monstrosity, and good beer (in the US) will continue to be made in small quantities by relatively underground breweries, consumed by “beer snobs”. You can’t stop the embracing and extension.

I’m going back to pre-sparge days for this week’s brew - an all-extract hefeweizen - from a kit, no less! Awesome! The kit’s just 6lbs. of “wheat” DME (60/40 wheat/barley), a couple ounces of low-alpha hops (I’ve already forgotten the strain), and a bottle of WLP300 - hefeweizen yeast.

I’ll be making an all-grain whit some time in late April/early May. This is for simplicity and fun. I keep upgrading my equipment and complexifying my process with each brew, which is the reason I’m making an all-extract beer this time. I’ll still have a yeast starter, and it’ll be a full boil, but other than that, it’s back to my first four beers. Not that I’ve come all that far. It’s #11 because it’s the 12th beer I’ll have brewed (the count starts from 0).

I made my Imperial whatsit. The recipe looks like this:

8 lbs. light DME
5 lbs. rauch
3 lbs. caramunich
2 lbs. chocolate
2 oz. Centennial (10% AAU) bittering (90 minutes in the pot)
1 pint WLP530 (Westmalle) starter

Rather than do a real mash/sparge, I mashed the grains for 30 minutes in 4 gallons of water (at 149-152 F), then drained it all into the kettle, added another 4 galons of water, and drained it all again. I ended up with about 6 to 6.5 gallons of wort at 1.029 or something. Very inefficient, but I was mostly hoping for color and some smoky flavor to come out of that.

Adding all that DME was annoying, but the whole thing went off pretty much without a hitch. I used my new aquarium stone to aerate the wort for an hour, pitched the yeast, then went off to The Trappist for some delicious beers. I got back three hours later and the fermentation had begun. Now I’m going to try to keep the wort above 70 F (preferably up near 80), to get some good yeast flavors in the beer.

I love arbitrary labels. I’ve spent hours arguing about nonsense like whether X band is funeral doom or death doom, or what’s the exact difference between a porter and a stout. Shit like that. Since the universe in which I live seems to be analog, not digital, boundaries aren’t actually nearly as neat and discreet as some of us with undiagnosed mild OCD might like them to be. But that doesn’t stop my love for labels, inherently arbitrary as they may be. So I’ve added three tags to the blog. They all relate to brewing, and my brews in particular. Down another half inch or less, you’ll find the tags and why.

Cat’s Quill
That’s the working title for the brewery in my kitchen, and the tag for my “regular” beers I brew. We have cats. They shed. I used to worry about my beer being infected by cat dander or fur (quills). I don’t any more, but the joke remains, and I like the feel of the phrase on my tongue. Probably not the best marketing, but since I only give my beer away, I remain unconcerned.

RauchMeister
I love smoked beers, the best smoked beers I’ve had are German (second best, Alaskan). My last name is Meister. I decided to brew my grand cru with smoked malt. Calling myself meister of anything brewing-related is silly and conceited, and calling my, what, 8th brew ever a “grand cru” is just plain silly. So I’m labeling all that stuff “Rauchmeister”.

Green Dragon
I’m working on an experimental line of beers infused with a proprietary herbal blend. Those are the Green Dragon beers. So far, there’s only one, the Maddhouse Double IPA. I have plans for more, but they are as yet vague and ill-defined.

I’ve been planning to brew an Imperial Stout for my next beer, but maybe with a Belgian yeast, and all extract except for some steeping grains, because I want something easy, and the stronger the beer the more it holds up to extract, sayeth Daniels. After cracking the smoked brown, I decided on a slightly different angle. I’m using 9lbs. of DME, 5lbs. of rauch malt, 2lbs. of chocolate malt, and I think it was 2lbs. of Munich. Or something like that. I forget. It’s written down, just not here.

The folk at Beer, Beer, and More Beer, where I picked up the ingredients for this batch, were wary of my 5lbs. of rauch malt, the same way I’m wary of the elderly woman who dresses all in purple, pink, and lavender and roams the streets of my neighborhood Witnessing for Jehovah all over anyone she sees. But like her, I have found my savior, and I don’t care if everyone knows it, or what they think about it. In fact, when this Imperial Stout turns out to rule the universe, I will bring a bottle of it to the unbelievers, and they will acknowledge our lord and savior, the Roach Malt.

Or it will be undrinkable, and I’ll dump it.

I have a theory about rauch malt (I say rauch rather than smoked because peated malt is different and more dangerous to use) - I think smoked malt is an acquired taste in a way similar to hoppy beers. Something happens when you taste a very smoky, great beer like Schlenkerla’s Urboch, a Lupulin shift-like adjustment of the palate. I’ll test that theory with the beer I brew Thursday.

Okay, so my porter is not a porter at all.  It’s a smoky, brown ale with Belgian yeast.  So, a  smoked brown, I guess.  I opened a bottle after having bottled a bit over a week ago, and it was a little flat, but delicious.  Smoky, a little sweet, malty, not much obvious hoppiness at this point, with a delicious belgian yeast character, though not much in the way of fruitiness.  Maybe some spice.  There’s a bitterness that doesn’t seem hop-related to me, and that’s probably the weak point.  It could also use a little more body, but like I said, I bottled it a week ago.  I’m expecting it to be perfect in a couple weeks, and I can’t wait to brew a stronger version of this same beer.

I went out to Beer, Beer, and More Beer and bought me an 8 gallon kettle with a spigot, notched lid, and an immersion chiller, and now I’m all about the all-grain (next up, though, an all-extract imperial stout because I’m sick to frickin’ meow of all-day brewdays). Then I went over to the Oak Barrel and picked up about 12 lbs. of grain, a vial of WL’s good ‘ol California Ale Yeast, and some ahtanum hops. For grains, I used a 8.5 lbs. of 2-row (American), three different colors of crystal (40, 60, and 80, IIRC) and some Vienna or Munich. I wants me a nice, strong copper ale with good hops (also using amarillo and magnum that I stashed away before the beginning of this here hop shortage that has hop wranglers out killing one another and any innocents that get in the way). Then I waited two or three weeks, because who wants flavorful malt, right? Really, I was just busy, then sick, then, well, it was three weeks later and time to brew.

First, of course, I tested the new equipment on water. Can my stove heat 7 gallons of water to the boiling point? Yes. Does the spigot on the kettle leak? Yes. Okay, tighten everything. Does the immersion chiller work? Yes, but you have to really tighten down the vinyl tubing coming out of it to avoid drips.

Once I determined my new equipment worked, I set aside some time to brew. The night before, I mixed up my yeast starter, but I’d had a bit too much to drink and I waited until about 1:00am to mix it, so I don’t really remember the process very well, and I’m sure that contributed to the epic lag time I experienced with this beer.

My first time using my new equipment and doing a full boil yielded one major problem - I ended up with about 1.5 gallons too much wort at the end of the boil. I probably should have boiled until that 1.5 gallons was gone, but I was pressed for time. So once again, instead of the gravity I wanted (1.057-1.060), I ended up at 1.052 or so. Not so horrible, really, but I’m getting sick of these weaker-than-desired worts.

It took only about 35 minutes to chill the wort to pitching temperature. I racked and pitched, then set it aside. For the next four days, I waited, and nothing happened. Finally, on the fifth day, as I was about to pick up some more yeast, the fermentation began. It was still cold enough in the house that I needed to heat the carboy for an hour or two every day, bringing the temperature up to between 64 and 68 degrees. It would then drop to just below 60 overnight, and I’d heat again. A blow-off tube was crucial.

Which brings me to my next problem - laziness. Bubbles were still coming up for three weeks, and I never racked it off to secondary. Also, I never replaced the blow-off tube with a proper airlock. Also, I never changed the water in the bucket holding the blow-off tube. Combine all that, and I ended up with a bit of mold in the water sitting in the bucket with the blow-off tube, and when I racked to secondary this past Saturday, the beer tasted bad. Not sure just how bad, yet. Not sure if it’s an infection, nastiness related to overlong contact with the trub, or if it’s just the more complex than usual grain bill tasting funny when young. I’m going to wait a week and see. If mold starts growing on top of the beer, I know it’s an infection. If it just sits there and glares at me, I’ll take a sample, have a taste, and see if I want to throw it out or bottle it.

It’s been a month and a half since my last post, so I guess it’s about time to update. That porter I brewed went completely insane with the fermenting about 24 hours after I racked and pitched. I had to make an emergency trip to the homebrew supply store for a thicker bit of vinyl tubing to make the first blowback tube I’ve used since I bought the 6.5 gallon carboy. Until then, I’d been changing the air lock every three to five hours to prevent a fountain of beer all over my room and computer.

Once everything calmed down and I was able to replace the blowback tube with an airlock, we had a cold spell. Our apartment has no insulation and we use no heater, so it was getting down to 48 degrees Fahrenheit at night, and only up to the mid-50s. And of course, them durn Belgian yeasts love the heat. When I racked to secondary a couple weeks after the brew day, it’d fermented down to about 1.020, much higher than it could with all that candi sugar and 2-row, so I made me another trip out to the homebrew supply store and bought a little plastic doohicky connected to a couple wires that merge and plug into the wall to provide heat. No thermostat or timer, unfortunately, as we’ll see in a minute.

I applied the heater to the carboy, and within a few hours, the temperature was up to 68 degrees Fahrenheit (from 52 or so). Not long after, obvious signs of fermentation showed up (shit moving around in the wort - it’s either wort sharks or the yeast has rised again).

Within a couple days, I’m sure, fermentation was over, but I couldn’t do it right and bottle, and I ended up leaving the heater on when I went in to work. Eight hours later, I came back home. A couple hours after that, with a guest over, no less, walking past the lagering room/phone niche (lagering used here purely to mean “aging” - no refrigeration implied), I thought to myself “how’s thet beer doin’?” Immediately after that, I realized I had no memory of unplugging the frickin’ heater from the carboy, and sure enough, the carboy was nice and warm to the touch, and bubbles were streaming up from the bottom of the beer in a way I can only describe as desperate and frightened. I quickly sanitized a thermometer and checked the temperature. 102 degrees Fahrenheit. A google search revealed that brewing yeast dies around 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Awesome. I took a sample and let it cool down, checked the gravity - 1.010 or thereabouts. Well, at least the fermentation was over when I brutally massacred the yeast. Strangely enough, the “porter” doesn’t taste bad. More like a brown ale with Belgian yeast flavors, also a subtle smokiness imparted by the rauch malt. Hops are prevalent, but not overpowering.

It’s been sitting there, waiting for me to bottle it, now, for about two weeks. I’m a little worried about it, as there is still a stream of small bubbles coming up from the bottom, and a bit of foam at the top. I wouldn’t be too surprised if the yeast didn’t completely die off, but I’m not taking any chances - I’ll be pitching a vial when I bottle, which I’ll hopefully be doing this weekend. Should be around 5% ABV.

Next up, my first real all-grain brew (a copper) with my new 8 gallon brew kettle and immersion chiller. Multiple minor disasters, including a lag time so horrifying you’d think it was a fiction written by Lovecraft in his middle era. You’ll be stoked.

11:22am
I’ve decided to live blog my brew day, since I’m on-call today, working a half day, so I need to come check emails every now and then.

Today I’m making a strong porter. I started heating the mash water (five gallons) at around 9:00am.

Here are the ingredients:

• 10 lbs. 2-row
• 2 lbs. Munich
• 1 lb. Rauch
• 1 lb. Special B
• 1 lb. Brown malt
• 3 lbs. Belgian candi syrup
• ?? DME
• 1 pint starter made last night with WLP530
• 2 oz. Centennial pellets at 10.4% AA.

At the moment, I’m in the midst of sparging. Earlier, there was a disaster I’ll write about in a minute, once I go check to be sure no other disasters are coming up or have arrived.

11:38am
The mash went okay. I was aiming for about 150 degrees F, but couldn’t get it above 149. By the end of the hour, it was at 148, despite a few hot water additions, the last of which was boiling, added about 12 minutes before sparge. I used my igloo 48 quart cooler for the first time, because of the cold, and because I’m mashing 15 pounds of grain. I thought it would keep the temperature steady, but it’s only about 50 degrees in the house.

To sparge, I transferred the mash into a plastic bucket lined with a large grain bag. After I finished the transfer, as I turned on the spigot on the bucket to start recirculating the wort, it made a little popping noise - more like a klunk, maybe - and wort starting leaking out of the side. The seal was broken. The nut on the other side had come loose. Fucking plastic! I held the spigot down and shouted for Jen until she wandered in. She held the spigot tight against the bucket as I picked the grain bag up out of the bucket and plopped it back into the cooler. There was still about 2 gallons of wort in the bucket. I reached in and tightened the nut. It was a bit hot, and I had to do it a couple times, but finally the seal was back, and I could start the sparge. Yar!

Of course, I’d forgotten to start heating the sparge water until about 10 minutes before the end of the mash, but that’s par for the fuckin course.

I’m worried about temperature. I had the yeast starter in the oven, where the pilot light keeps it somewhat warm, and it started up. I took it out now that I’m using the burner on the stove so much. All these changes in temperature are worrisome. At least I won’t have to worry about high-temperature fermentation by-products.

1:07pm
I ended up with about six, maybe seven gallons of wort, at 1.057. Perfect amount of wort for a full boil. I put about 4.5 gallons into my 5 gallon kettle and the rest into a 3 gallon kettle. I added 3 pounds of dark Belgian candi syrup, which should bring the SG of the five gallon brew up to about 1.076. That should be enough, as it’ll get me about 8-8.5% ABV. My worries about boiling at such cold ambient temperatures have proven unfounded - I narrowly averted a boil-over about 20 minutes ago.

I can’t taste any smoke in the wort, which isn’t too surprising, having used only 1lb of it. The syrup tastes great. It reminds me of some of the flavors in Trappist beers like Achel or Rochefort. I’m refraining from adding cocoa for this version. Only the syrup makes this beer un-Reinheitsgebot. Not that I care about that shit. I’m wondering how the Centennial’s going to do. I’m only using it for bitterness, not for flavor or aroma - no hops there - so I’m thinking it won’t be too noticeable. Just a bit of a hop bite.

2:54pm
Cooling down took a bit less than an hour. I only used ice after it’d reached 120 degrees.

I’m disappointed in the starting gravity. Once again, I misjudged the amount I was boiling. I thought I ended up with about 4 gallons at 1.082, but it was actually 3. I added a gallon and a half to that three, and ended up with about 1.055 as my SG. I was going for .020 more than that. I’ll end up with a regular strength porter, most likely, though the candi syrup, the Belgian yeast, and the abnormal grain bill should make it a special regular strength porter. I say “most likely” because I measured the SG by taking a hydrometer reading from the kettle right before I racked it to the primary carboy, then adjusting that reading based on the amount of water I added. I added 1.5 gallons, and appear to be about half a gallon short of 5 gallons in the carboy. The gravity out of the kettle was 1.082. (Gravity * Volume) / Final Volume gets a final gravity of 1.055. Of course, if any of my measurements are off (and they aren’t very exact), I could end up with an SG of 1.057 to 1.067. This goes to show how important it is to upgrade my kettle. Regardless, though, I’m excited about this beer.

Ramblin’ Todd

Since my last post, centuries ago, I have been out of town twice, and was once again thwarted in my attempts to brew my “Belgian” “Porter”. First, The Lady and I made our way down 101 to Buellton, where we stayed at Anderson Pea Soup Best Western Inn and had their godawful namesake. We also visited the newish Firestone Walker Pub and had a sampler, and took some time on the way down to visit what used to be SLO Brewing, now Downtown Brewing. We were lucky enough to meet the brewmaster. The beers at Downtown are very solid. The IPA was an excellent cross between a malty, sweet, somewhat hoppy British IPA and a malty, very hoppy West Coast IPA. I tried my first ever Honey Wheat. Or maybe it was a Honey Pale. I’m not sure, and their website is such an incredible piece of suck that I won’t know until I look at the notes I took (oh yeah, I’m a nerd). Anyway, for a light beer meant for consumption by beer-wimpy jock types (I assume), it was very tasty.

Shortly after our trip to the Central Coast, I took off for my mom’s 60th birthday party in Indiana, and to visit my dad in Michigan. Checked out Mishawaka Brewing Company. It was what I’d anticipated. Not bad - somewhere between Triple Rock in Berkeley and Magnolia in San Francisco. The beers were pretty much exactly what you’d expect from a brewpub in California about 10 years ago, and can still find in some of the older brewpubs in the Bay Area. Unfortunately, their IIPA was out, but I did try the Imperial Stout. It was a very interesting Imperial Stout. Not sure I’d want another, but a good experience.

In Michigan, I went out searching for anything from Short’s Brewing, which I’d read about in Teri Fahrendorf’s blog. She makes it sound like Short’s is the Russian River or Lost Abbey of Michigan, and I couldn’t be so close and not try to find something. Unfortunately, the brewery is in the wilds of far northern Michigan, a four hour drive from my dad’s house in Battle Creek, and I was visiting in the midst of an ice storm. Fortunately, my dad’s wife works at a University, and was able to easily find a beer nerd’s liquor store in Battle Creek. Therein, I found a bottle of the 2006 Short’s Mystery Stout, an Imperial Stout brewed with cocoa and molasses. Without thinking twice, I paid the $20.00, then spent another $10.00 mailing it back home. It wasn’t until later I realized that there’s no fucking way that beer was worth $20.00. Or at least, if I lived in god damned Bellaire, Michigan, it wouldn’t be. As it is, I doubt I’ll be seeing another bottle of special beer from Short’s any time soon, so fuck it. I popped the cap on that bottle on Christmas Eve. Doran seemed to hate it a bit, but he managed to get it down. I thought it was wonderful. Hints of oxidization, maybe, but not too strong. Something about it was very similar to some of the awesome beers I had at the Barrel Aged Beer Fest, though I don’t think it was barrel aged. A very complex and satisfying beer, probably best reserved for small glasses with dessert and a group of about four. Or for me, watching Deadwood with Doran and Jen.

The Return, and the Opening of The Trappist

When I finally made it home from Michigan, The Trappist, Oakland’s answer to Toronado, had opened, along-awaited event. Scottr chose it for his birthday locale, which happened to coincide with new friend and bartender at the Trappist, Nicole’s birthday. Her boyfriend, Nate, an awesome homebrewer, brewed up a hoppy amber ale for her birthday, a bottle of which I managed to get my grubby paws on. It was awesome. The Trappist has an incredible beer selection. St. Bernardus Wit and Trippel, Achouffe’s LaChouffe, Stone’s Double Bastard, and a book’s worth of reasonably priced bottles. Unfortunately, it’s pretty much packed from the minute it opens. Hopefully, that’ll ease up a bit when the holidays are over.

But even before the Trappist, there was my work’s Christmas party.  Every year, one of the co-owners hosts the party at his house, where loads of food, wine, and hard liquor (as well as some unmentionables) are consumed.  Sometimes a jam session starts up in the living room (though that hasn’t happened in a while).  Eventually, one group ends up playing poker, another upstairs playing video games (the underage set), and another out in the shed, playing pool (that’s where I always end up).  This year, we had a pony keg of Russian River IPA.  It lasted until 10:40.  I was there when it sputtered its last, and it was a sad, yet glorious moment.  Next year, two pony kegs.

Beercraft!

All that drinking, but that wasn’t the end. Beercraft’s first show was on the Solstice (the Reason for the Season), Saturday the 22nd. Steve, our drummer, rented a bouncy room shaped like a tank. I think that helped quite a bit in contributing to the great, fun atmosphere at the party. People were bouncing all night long, watching the bands from the screen windows in the bouncy tank. And we managed to suck down two full kegs (Moonlight’s Death and Taxes and Sierra Nevada Pale) by midnight or so. Beercraft was supposed to go on first or second, so we could drink and be merry after, but as seems to always happen with parties, more bands than expected ended up on the bill (six in all), and none of them wanted to go last, so we ended up headlining. Four songs to our 15 minute set, and we headlined! Doran and Jen were there, and almost didn’t make it, but they managed. There was a strange Fucking Champs-inspired duo called Night Flight, then a couple more bands I forget, then a great hardcore band called You Die. I’m not much of a fan of hardcore post-1987 or so, which maybe gives an idea what constitutes a great hardcore band to me. Hellhunter played two slots before us, and they were great, as always (mid-tempo NWOBHM-inspired black metal). Finally, Steve’s main band, Million Dollar Itch played, and then, around 12:45am, we were on (all of us worse for wear after having drunk and been merry regardless of our position in the night’s set). Four songs went by very quickly. It was cold as Christ’s Love, but for me at least, nervous energy made up for it, and I was able to play the fastish parts okay (the next morning my hand was sore from the exertion, though, even though we play the set several times during any given practice). The crowd seemed very stoked, and from the stage at least, the sound was great. I even managed to do most of the backup vocals I’m allotted, which I’d been worried about beforehand. Afterward, we had a Beercraft bouncy session in the bouncy room while one of the bands that couldn’t make it (Rebel’s Advocate, who played that night at Gilman) played an impromptu set at everyone’s urging. If that bouncy session qualifies as a post-show band meeting, then our meeting went well.

Damn You, Baby Jesus!

Yesterday, Baby Jesus Day, I was supposed to brew my Grand Cru, the Porter with Belgian Aspirations. I procured 10lbs. of 2-row, a pound of brown malt, a pound of special B, a pound of rauch malt (labeled “roach” at Beer, Beer, and More Beer), and two pounds of munich. Add to that two bottles of belgian candi sugar syrup and six pounds of DME for backup, so even if I was super inefficient, I was looking at a starting gravity near 1.1. However, I forgot to brew up a yeast starter the night before, and I really, really want this beer to come out right. I don’t need panicked, overworked, oxygen-starved yeast byproducts in my beer. So I put off the brew. Personally, I blame Baby Jesus for my forgetfulness. I’m hoping to make it out to Beer, etc., in the next couple days and use some of my KillChristmas money to upgrade to a larger kettle and an immersion chiller, which will allow for a full boil. Then, I brew.