3:31pm: It’s a bright, shiny California day and I’m giving a second shot homebrewing a Fullers ESB clone which I’m fancifully calling “Vigilante ESB”, and the last batch of which my dad called “paint thinner.” I swear it really wasn’t that bad. In any case, Carolyn and I sucked down all five gallons of it in record time the last time my beer critic father was here visiting.
3:33pm: Poured myself a glass on my previous effort at Pilsner (which I’ve dubbed, “PGP: Pretty Good Pilsner”) to drink while brewing. In truth, the “Pretty Good” label was stretching things a bit, but at least it’s nearly all gone. Clearly I’ll drink darn near anything.
4:12pm: Kitchen and equipment cleaned and sanitized and 6.5 gallons of filtered water is in a carboy with a Campden tablet added to dechlorinate it.
4:14pm: Heating up 3.5 quarts of water to 175 degrees. The recipe calls for a ridiculously specific 3.4 quarts, but really, who are they kidding?
4:21pm: The recipe calls for 1 lb 2 oz (Again with those ridiculously specific measurements!) of English Pale Ale malt and 1 lb 2 oz (augh!) of Crystal Malt. I have a pound of Crisp’s Caramel Malt and a pound of something called Glen Eagle’s Maris Otter. It must be English, because nobody else would come up with a name like that. In any case, it’ll have to do.
4:38pm: Water’s at 170 degrees, so I’m turning off the heat, dumping my grains (the Caramel Malt whatever the Otter thing is) into a grain bag, and letting them steep for 45 minutes.
4:40pm: Throwing on “30,000 Feet Over China,” the little-remembered debut album from The Passions. It’s an old transfer from vinyl, so it should be just about 45 minutes long.
4:41pm: “I’m in Love with a German Film Star” starts up. The guitar line still sounds great.
4:43pm: Topping up my Pilsner. It really does taste better the more you drink of it.
4:47pm: Cleaning off the jets on my propane burner. Last time I used it, it generated so much carbon residue on the brew pot that I wouldn’t have lacked for art supplies had I decided to ditch interface consulting and embark on a new career as a charcoal and pencils artist.
4:54pm: Moving the party outside. Fired up the burner and have 5 gallons of water slowly working its way up to a boil. Me, my Pilsner and the rest of the ingredients are now enjoying a sunny day listening to forgotten 80s pop, and waiting for water to boil. Life could be a lot worse.
5:01pm: Being driven slightly mad by how interchangeable the bass line from Magazine’s “The Light Pours Out of Me” is with the one on “Small Stones,” the 5th track of the album. Time to top up my beer.
5:05pm: Note to self. Next time, do not let Pilsner sit in the kegerator at 30 PSI for a week. Result is less “briskly refreshing drink” and more “foam monster from hell”. Cleaning up mess now…
5:12pm: Have tried once again to top up beer only to receive about half an ounce of beer and 5 inches of foam. Daughter Kelly has noted my dilemma and asks I plan on drinking straight from the overspill pan. I give her the evil eye while staring dejectedly at my glass overflowing with foam.
5:20pm: The “30,000 Feet over China” album is over. You gotta be kidding me. An album that’s only 40 minutes long??! In the modern age of CDs and digital downloads, you’d never get away with that! People today demand value!
5:21pm. Throwing on The Kaiser Chief’s “Employment”. Huh…looks like it’s only 45 minutes long. Err…never mind…
5:33pm: Have rinsed off the grain bag that’s been steeping with a couple of quarts of hot water from the main brew pot, then added the “tea” I’ve been making to the main brew pot and bringing it to a boil. Have discovered two pro tips for this part of the process: (1) having one of those pots with a colander attachment you can insert is super useful for rinsing the grain without burning the skin off your arm with the boiling hot water you’re playing with, and (2) having an over-stove microwave gives you a dandy handle to tie the grain bag from to drain it afterward.
5:41pm. It’s boiling. Now time to add the first ounce of hops and two pounds of dry malt extract.
5:50pm: You know that moment when you encounter some unmistakable truth about life…some instant of clarity which told you that what you were experiencing was a Really Important Thing that you should never forget, lest wisdom be lost forever? The Buddhists call this “tonkyo”–I understand it means “sudden wisdom”, but it always sounded like onomatopoeia for the sound the universe makes as it whacks you upside the head and tells you to get a clue fer crissake.
So it was when I attempted to add the 2 pounds of dry malt extract to a nearly full pot of boiling water and had about a half gallon of it instantly boil over the side in a vast sticky mess.
Future Me: next time PLEASE remember to reduce the heat before doing this step. Either that or hold back about a gallon of water from the boil. Either one. Really. Take your pick. No pressure, just one or the other OK?
Meanwhile, I’ll be hosing down my suddenly sticky deck.
6:09pm I have 45 minutes to wait until I add the next ounce of hops, 1 pound 5 oz of corn sugar, along with 4 lbs of light liquid malt. The total boil time of this thing is an absurdly long 60 minutes, and the Kaiser Chiefs have just ended.
This leaves me with an existential dilemma. The “wort” as they call the stuff which I’m currently mixing up, is a primordial chemical soup, and it’s no doubt picking up the essence of everything around it. This is the same theory that says that if you play classical music for plants, they’ll grow up straight and healthy, but if you play Van Halen for them, they’ll all turn into stunted shrubs smoking dope behind the boys locker room.
If I throw on something like P.I.L. as the next album, will my ESB inevitably become Especially Extra Special Bitter? Then again, if I put on some slick 80s new wave, might the treacly synth music rob my brew of its necessary character?
I ultimately decide on Reggie and the Full Effect’s “Songs not to Get Married to”–an angry pop album from a punker with the heart of a poet. That’s a beer I can believe in.
6:33pm. Time for the final addition of another ounce of hops, a big pinch of Irish Moss to help the beer settle, 3 lbs. of Alexander’s Pale Malt Extract, and 1 lb, 5oz of corn sugar. I learned the hard way from my previous “Dark” [read: burnt] Kolsch that I should definitely remove the brew from the heat before adding in the liquid extract, as it otherwise goes straight to the bottom and burns instantly.
6:45pm: Waiting for it to come back up to a boil for the final 15 minutes, and reflecting on the fact that this is the one beer I’ve ever made that actually calls for adding MORE THAN A POUND OF SUGAR to the wort itself. This will eventually all get converted into alcohol by the yeast, but this sucker is going to kick like a mule.
6:52pm: Ten minutes left in the boil, but I’m on the end of the Reggie album. Rather than risk any off musical flavors making their way into the blend, I’ve decided to loop the final song, the heart-wrenching, “Playing Dead” until it’s done. If the beer winds up anything like the song, it’ll be a good brew for crying into.
6:56pm: Nearly showtime. Have filled the sink with ice and cold water, and have my wort chiller (a big mess of copper tubing you run a garden hose through like a giant-sized computer water cooler) ready to go. “Playing Dead” is on its third play, and I briefly considered switching to Johnny Cash’s “Hurt”, but a beer that steeped in sadness would be guaranteed undrinkable. The key is to balance the angry with the sad with the sweet. Good beer, like life, is a delicate balance.
8:30pm: Bedtime stories have been read to Kelly who, after much protesting, is off to bed. Meanwhile, the beer’s cooled down, siphoned into the carboy, topped up with filtered water, and had the yeast added in and the stopper inserted. In a couple week’s time, I should know if this batch is anything like drinkable. Given how provably low my bar for this is, I give this batch about a 50:50 chance.