Do you brew?
If you do, you're one of a growing number who are taking to the popular home hobby by the barrel
By Steve Croyle |
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Photo by Chris Casella The answer is more complex than a simple yes or no. My brewing experience is laughable in the eyes of most brewers, but I have dabbled - enough to realize when I had reached the point of no return.
"Just extracts," I told the home brewer. A look of disgust registered on his face.
"I'm trying to avoid the next step," I added.
His disgust turned to contempt, but then he choked back his rage and smiled. "I know what you mean, but it's not that bad."
It starts out innocently enough. It's always a kit: a white plastic bucket, a clear plastic jug, some basic brewing thingamajigs, and a simple ale. Malt extracts eliminate the heavy lifting - extracts are to brewing what Betty Crocker is to baking.
Of course the "brewing" aspect of the process comes from steeping malted barley in scalding hot (but not boiling) water in order to extract ferment-able sugars. You still have to reconstitute the extracts and add hops, but it might be more accurate to call it home 'fermenting.'
"It's the control," explained a home brewer (we'll call him Sean), who was busy adding hops to his hefeweizen at Big Brew this May. "You determine the color, clarity, and sugar content of the wort."
We won't call Sean an addict, but we will say that he begrudgingly accepts the fact that his father, who was also at Big Brew, is a PBR guy.
"I don't like light beer," dad says defensively. Sean shoots me the knowing look of a fellow beer snob. What the heck do you think PBR is, pops?
Sean's dad later spills the beans. Sean's the proud poppa of a 4-day-old baby boy and what's he doing? Spending an entire Saturday at Columbus Brewing Company, brewing beer. "My wife told me to go out and relax," Sean explains.
Sam Caligione started out with a kit back in the early 1990s. Then he founded Dogfish Head and became an icon in the craft brewing market. Jim Koch was an avid home brewer who decided to ditch a promising corporate gig in favor of launching the Samuel Adams brand. Pick a figure in the business and they'll tell you they started with a kit. It's a cliche.
There are a number of online message boards, countless books, and a variety of organizations that can help home brewers. Locally, Scioto Olentangy Darby Zymurgists (SODZ) helps connect home brewers of varying levels of experience. Ideas are exchanged, recipes are shared and solutions to problems are discussed. Some members even get together and order supplies in bulk to help defray costs.
Scott Taylor, vice president of SODZ, started with your simple extract kit 12 years ago. His wife got it for him. Now he brews three or four batches of beer every year. That's light compared to some brewers, but Scott's got other hobbies.
Wives are often the enablers. It seems like a simple hobby and the starter kit is less than a hundred bucks. Plus, you can make wine with the same kit. It's cute. At least the wife thinks so, until the entire basement has been converted into a microbrewery and on the rare occasion her husband can be found, he stinks of hops, his hands are sticky with wort (not warts), and he uses horrible words like "sparging."
The upside is that he probably won't be asking for permission to buy a motorcycle and his midlife crisis will probably consist of a torrid affair with a 15 gallon lauter tun, but brew wives should be prepared to develop a taste for craft beers and enjoy spending time at home brew festivals.
Supportive wives sometimes reap the rewards. Caligione readily admits that Dogfish Head wouldn't exist if his wife hadn't been gainfully employed while he got his brewery off the ground. Omar Ansari of Surly Brewing Company also tells people touring his brewery that the secret to his success was an employed wife. Now both breweries are successful and both wives enjoy executive privileges.
Locally, Jay Wince of Zanesville's Weaselboy Brewery was able to cultivate his passion for brewing thanks in large part to the fact that his wife shared it. After years of establishing himself as a legend on the home brew circuit, Jay finally put his wares on tap a couple of years ago and he has a strong following in Columbus that includes Eric Bean of Columbus Brewing Company and Scott Francis of Barley's.
The attraction to brewing varies. For some it's a matter of taste, others enjoy the exploration. It's hobby that combines art and science. You don't simply brew a beer, you raise it. It's alive. You need to feed it and make sure that it's neither too warm nor too cold. Sometimes it gets sick and you have to nurse it back to health.
The best part?
"Sharing," said another brew junky, who we'll call Patrick. "Seeing somebody else enjoy what you made is really pretty cool."
The Levels of Home Brew Intoxication
Under the Influence
Brewing extract-based recipes in 5-gallon batches.
A basic home brewing kit runs about $100 and can be found online or at specialty suppliers like The Winemaker's Shop (3517 N High St.). You plant a Cascade hops rhizome in your wife's flower garden.
Seeing Double
Still using extracts, but occasionally adding specialty grains for color and aroma. Creating recipes from scratch and considering bottling alternatives. Brewing larger batches, rummaging around scrap yards for discarded kegs, and submitting online bids on brewing equipment that far exceeds your needs. You start creating euphemisms with brew terms - "I wouldn't mind 'sparging' her mash."
Blind Drunk
200 pounds of crushed malted Barley is in your basement. You have a chest freezer full of whole leaf hops. You make your kids crawl inside the mash tun to clean it out when your wife is at work. She doesn't know that you've quit working and started brewing full time and, until the 401(k) runs out, she never will.
Originally Published: July 1, 2010
