New England IPA – Beer? Or soup?

Posted on May 14, 2017 by Ed Sabato

IPA has become the 2017 equivalent of the East Coast vs. West Coast rap wars, minus the gunplay and MTV coverage. The West Coast IPA fans stick to their theory that you can have a clear IPA that exhibits good aroma, flavor, and bitterness, all while being able to read Facebook on your phone through your glass. The New England IPA fans stick to their “juicy” love affair with beers that look more like orange juice than beer. I find myself to be more Oklahoma than either coast in this ongoing debate.

Why are these New England IPAs so damned cloudy? Multiple opinions exist on what contributes to the haze, but everyone agrees that yeast plays a major part. The choice of most brewers producing this new style tends to be the Vermont Ale, Vermont IPA, Northeast Ale, or Konan yeast (the same strain under different marketing) which stays in solution rather than flocculate to the bottom. The yeast, while in suspension, adds mouth feel and “body” to a beer much in the same way corn starch tends to thicken soups or sauces. The yeast doesn’t necessarily make the beer thicker, but it adds to the appearance of viscosity. Other theories on the haze involve the use of higher starch grains like oats, spelt, wheat, flour, etc., and “hop haze,” which is created by heavily dry-hopping a beer.

Last year I made a DIPA called Lyle Crocodile in honor of a friend. The beer relied heavily on toasted oats, toasted rice and more hops than I had ever used previously. As you can see from the picture, it came out opaque. I used White Labs’ WLP001 California Ale yeast, which flocs out easily, so the yeast didn’t make it to the secondary fermentation carboy, or the keg, but the haze is still there. I also used White Labs’ Clarity Ferm product, which eliminates the proteins that form the dreaded “chill haze.” Lyle Crocodile’s haziness simply came from the high percentage of oats and the near-pound of hops in the five-gallon batch, the majority of hops were in the dry-hopping, which adds phenols, which are hazy. The beer tasted super-clean, had none of the New England IPA’s characteristic “juicy” mouthfeel, and although hazy, was clearer than just about every New England IPA I have tried. Lyle Crocodile was so well received at a party I threw, that it was the first keg to kick. Everyone raved about it, which probably had something to do with the 8.5% ABV a IPA haze from oats and hops nd everyone being completely smashed.

But for commercial brewers I have a theory that time and money are the key elements in the rise of New England IPA popularity. If you don’t have to filter, or add finings to help clear up the beer, you save money. If you don’t have to wait for the yeast to “floc out” to the bottom of the fermenter, you save time, which means you can turn beers around quicker. If time = money, and you can both get your beers to market faster and produce more beer, you net a much larger profit margin.

I think it’s possible to brew an amazing Double IPA (DIPA) that doesn’t look like you dumped a bag of flour in it. Take Russian River Brewing’s Pliny the Elder (the first DIPA), for example. You can read this post through it. I guess super cloudy IPAs and DIPAs could just be a trend, one that I have obviously taken part in. But will it last? Will the Brewers Association add New England IPA as an official style?

Ultimately this is a consumer choice. It is possible to brew a clearer IPA/DIPA, but does it matter? If you have created a huge buzz about your beer and people are standing in line in the rain for two hours to buy it, you are too busy counting your money to discuss the haziness in your product. The market is obviously being driven by sales, as there are some very good brewers on the west coast that are now producing their own versions. It looks like this new trend is going to be around for a while, but I remember when the market was being overrun with “Cascadian Dark Ales,” as well as white and Belgian IPAs. Now you have to actively search for one of those styles and this new “hop soup” style has seemed to take their place.

So where do you fall in the IPA rap wars? Fans of both? Fans of neither? Or just fans of beer exploration?

Fruit in Your Beer Isn’t a Crime

Posted on April 10, 2017 by Ed Sabato

Once upon a time, I would wince at the request for fruit in a beer, throw a sideways glance at the guy ordering a wit with a slice of orange, or the girl holding a clear bottle with a lime floating in it.

Not so anymore. I am now fully on board with fruited beer, but I’m talking built into the recipe, rather than dropped on top. Hefeweizens with orange peel, Gose with citrus, stouts with cherries, sours with kumquats, raspberries or currants. Fruit beers have taken a place on the podiums of local, national and international beer competitions.

Thanks to some incredible talent and some extraordinary recipe design, fruit beers are everywhere these days. I have had the pleasure of working with some talented brewers who are pushing the boundaries and using locally grown fruit to produce some of the best beers I have ever tasted. Living in Hawaii, I was fortunate enough to be introduced to ingredients that can’t be found on the mainland. Lilikoi, or passionfruit, is king here. My friend Matt brews ridiculous saisons using lilikoi in secondary. A local cider producer makes an amazing lilikoi cider that clocks in at 10% ABV and is impossible to find due to demand. But why has fruit become so popular?

Offering something “different” for most drinkers, fruit has become the next big thing. Companies and orchards that grow the fruit or produce purees are flush with cash thanks to this new trend. Everyone makes an IPA, but who would have thought five years ago that a national craft brewery would produce a papaya IPA year-round? These beers are chewing up market share and not just from the umbrella-drink consumer.

Case in point: I have to fly to San Francisco in February or March of next year to pick up 10 bottles of fruited sour beer. My trip will cost me thousands of dollars for $200 of beer. Clearly this makes no economic sense, so why would anyone do it? Honestly, it’s because the beer is simply that good. I was on a road trip to South Carolina a year ago and took a five-hour detour to visit Wicked Weed Brewing in Asheville, North Carolina just to buy fruited sour beers. I walked out 11 bottles heavier and almost $200 lighter because the beers were insane.

I have yet to embrace fruit in my own brewing, save some blood orange in a cider here or there, but I now realize I have missed out on something in my 20+ years of beer consumption. Although fruit beers feel new, they are not at all. European brewers have made them for years. The classic Berliner Weiss has used raspberry syrup forever. American brewers are adding blood orange, kumquat and citrus. Dogfish Head started putting their 60-Minute IPA on grape must. And other brewers are making grape infused beers as well. It truly is a revolutionary moment in American brewing culture.

The next time you are at your local liquor emporium, or that homebrew shop you love, think about adding something a little extra to your repertoire. I am eyeing a plum puree for a chocolate stout and the blood orange puree for my Weapons Load Wheat as I write this.

Declaring War on IBUs and ABV

Posted on March 2, 2017 by Ed Sabato

I love IPAs, Double IPAs, Imperial Stouts, and Bourbon Barrel-aged Whatever beers as much as the next beer nerd. That said, no one can drink a half-dozen of them with their friends on a Friday night without falling down a flight of stairs. What’s the deal with the IBU and ABV tendency to go to the extreme?

Thankfully, in recent years the IBU wars have effectively ended. It seems the voice of the consumer is being heard, and both ABV and IBU are on the decline. In the last year or so, I have seen menus with expanded lower ABV beer offerings. “Session” has become the new buzz word, and I am in love with it. The brewery where I volunteer has a 3.6% ABV mild on the menu that’s become my choice for consumption with friends. Don’t get me wrong, I do love my IPAs, but being able to put down three or four brews over a few hours of sports and conversation about nothing with friends and walk away still upright and coherent sure is nice.

So why the switch? Well, it makes economic sense to start with. I recently heard an interview with the brewers at Founders, about the success of their All Day IPA. This new session beer is 4.7% ABV and they cannot make enough of it. It has become their top-selling beer because consumers want to buy it buy the bundle. It’s a very good beer, and you can drink several without getting that “slow-pan, freeze-frame” sensation that lets you know it’s time to slip a big glass of water in the mix. It is also less expensive to produce. Golden Road is on the same trajectory with their Wolf Pup session IPA at 4.5% ABV. It is a good “beach beer,” being flavorful, crisp, and refreshing.

Berliner Weiss has also made a huge comeback as well for the same reasons. Considering this style of beer isn’t uniquely American, the “Motherland” of Germany needs to pick up its industry jaw. It would appear that beers in the 4% range are good business, and thankfully, the craft beer industry is listening to the market.

Homebrewers are doing the same. My “Weapons Load Wheat,” clocking in at 4.7% ABV, is ideal for those hot summer days for the very same reasons. It was less expensive to produce, came out dry (1.008 SG/2° Plato) and had great citrus character from the Cascade and Mandarina Bavaria hops. This beer performed extremely well in my focus group, and people raved about it.

The next time you are at your local brewery or in your preferred spot to purchase beer, take a look around at what consumers are buying. I’ll bet you’ll see a lot of lower ABV and IBU beers, because they both “taste great” and are characteristically “less filling.”

So get out there, and try something that isn’t barrel aged, 11% ABV, or has an advertised 120 IBUs. You might be surprised how great these “session” beers really are.

The Darker Side of New England

Posted on January 30, 2017 by Ed Sabato

Treehouse Brewing Company makes some of the most sought after IPAs in New England, but the mastermind behind the recipes is a dark-beer lover at heart. Treehouse produces a near-perfect milk stout called That’s What She Said. I stood in line several hours on a sub-freezing night to get a couple of growlers filled, and this beer was amazing! And don’t even get me started on Single Shot or Double Shot, both of which are stellar stouts as well.

The hits don’t stop with Treehouse. Trillium, Grey Sail of Rhode Island, Maine Beer Company and a slew of others make some equally impressive stouts and porters. When Grey Sail of Rhode Island started up, Stargazer (Imperial Stout) was a stand-out in a full lineup of offerings. It won’t sell like an IPA, but what an excellent beer! Trillium’s Pot and Kettle is an excellent porter with rich dark malt and coffee notes. Maine Beer Company produces Mean Old Tom and King Titus. Both of which I would rank in the top stouts and porters in the U.S. That’s no joke, these beers are that good. Hill Farmstead brews Everett, without a doubt the best porter I have ever tasted. Period. End of story.

So why are these beers not leading the charge? Why the so-called snub on Beer Oscar night? Well, dark beers just aren’t hip, plain and simple. No one seems to want to stand in line for two hours to get an imperial stout, porter, doppelbock, or Baltic porter. No one except my wife and my crazy friend Brian.

Fact is, some dark beers out there are worth waiting in line for. IPAs have a very short shelf-life after they are packaged, so standing in line for two hours to get a few huge IPAs may seem like a great way to spend a weekend, but I would much rather be able to cellar an ample supply of beer after investing a few hours in line and a few more in the car. I would encourage everyone to look beyond the hype, past the insane dry hopping and fanfare. Beer fans need to look for the dark side on New England. We already know what orange juice looks and tastes like.

Jumping the Shark or Brewing Riker’s Beer?

Posted on November 23, 2016 by Ed Sabato

I’d like to think I’m pretty hip with American cultural references. The fact is, sometimes I have to go look up something in the Urban Dictionary to understand what someone actually meant. Most of these cultural and social terms do not bear repeating. But some of them are hilarious. And let’s face it, if someone at work sees you looking at the Urban Dictionary, you may end up discussing your research with the folks down in HR.

My most recent discovery is the term “Riker’s beard,” with the following excerpt taken from the top definition from Urban Dictionary:

The opposite of jump the shark, i.e. when a TV show goes from unspectacular/boring/outlandish to completely awesome. It references Star Trek: The Next Generation, which was unspectacular until season 2, when Commander Riker grew a beard. The show kicked ass from then on.

Having been around long enough to see the original episode of Happy Days when The Fonz actually jumped the shark pen on waterskies, I can relate. That episode sucked something awful. In fact, that episode was so completely terrible it created the term “jumping the shark.”

I was sitting on my lanai, enjoying the moment and the sunset with a good cigar, while sipping a delicious Burley Oak “Rude Boy” and a stout a friend made, when it hit me how shark jumping and Riker’s beard relate to beer.

Several small breweries have opened up in the last few years within a 30-minute drive from my home. One of first to open became an instant favorite for me. Not because the beer was great, but because I liked them personally. It’s always nice to know your money is going to people who live near you and have mortgages in your town, vice seeing your money go to a conglomerate in some megacity nowhere near you. This brewery’s beers were, at the time, just so basic and not very interesting in their first year. Nothing terrible mind you, but nothing I would ship to beer-friends on the opposite coast. The tiny brewery grew slowly and steadily for a year or two, just churning out its core beers and getting better with every batch. And then it happened. The owner turned the Brewmaster loose and let him create beers outside of the core lineup.

In those initial two years, the brewery quietly learned and stealthily grew its Riker’s beard. Then I heard a rumbling about a new IPA that had been sampled by friends and their response was pretty enthusiastic. Now, the IPA frenzy has made me a little leery of “over-hype,” so I went to the bar closest to the brewery to try it out for myself. The IPA was an amazing and very refreshing, and thankfully clear (http://www.midwatchbrewingco.com/filter-a-dirty-four-letter-word/) concoction. It was by far the best thing the young brewery had produced. This new-found momentum turned into Brewmaster-series one-off beers and continued success; they have clearly found their mojo.

Beer is exactly like everything else we know. To this small brewery’s yin, there has to be a yang. We all know these breweries – the ones that rest on their early success, cut corners, relax process and quality control or just go crazy. I can think of quite a few good craft breweries purchased by large conglomerates that just destroyed what had been built. Over-production, flooded markets, chasing trends, and most terribly – adding fruit to every damn beer they make. It would seem these breweries were looking for the ramp and the shark pen. I am not saying they cannot grow or progress, but you cannot dazzle discerning beer drinkers with bullshit and gimmicks. It grows old after the first pint. After all, how many watermelon <insert style here> beers can you drink, anyway?

So take a lesson The Fonz never learned: go back to solid writing, awesome character development, and quality production, and the viewers, er, drinkers, will reward you.

Competition: Making better beers and ultimately, better brewers.

Posted on October 16, 2016 by Ed Sabato

Competing is hard for me. I strive to do everything perfectly. No flaws, no errors, no excuses. This is typical Type-A personality stuff, and everyone knows someone like me. I hate to lose, and I damn sure hate to admit that I lost because of my own efforts (or mistakes). But I also crave feedback. If something I built, wrote, said, designed, grilled, baked, painted, or brewed isn’t quite right, I want to know how to fix it next time around. This is the basic reason why brewing competitions are so awesome.

Who doesn’t want to win? I am a great winner! I am only an okay loser; sometimes I am crushed by not doing great at whatever I attempted. So when I entered my first homebrew competition in 2015 I was pretty excited to get some quality feedback about my beers. I entered three beers and two different wild fermented ciders in hopes of doing well and learning about the process. I was not disappointed, I did both well and utterly terrible at the same time.

The beers I had submitted were:

1) A smoked version of my “BSP” porter (nitro) which I thought would do terrible because it was a nitro version and wouldn’t bottle well. (why no name here, since you offered names for the others?)

2) My “Seastate Schwarzbier,” which I thought would do okay because it was almost indistinguishable from the best commercial example I had ever tried.

3) My “Kings Bay Kolsch,” of which I was the so proud and sure that I fully expected to medal for this beer and put it in the “done column” on our brewery listing of experimental beers.

Before I tell you how I did, I need to explain how a beer is judged. Each beer is submitted under a style profile category—a no-brainer since an Irish Stout and an American IPA are completely different and cannot be compared. Judges are certified by the Beer Judge Certification Program (BCJP) and can be of varying levels of experience, and you have no way of knowing who will judge your beer. Each beer has a theoretical maximum point value of 50. The breakdown of points goes like this:

Aroma (0-12pts), Appearance (0-3pts), Flavor (0-20pts), Mouthfeel (0-5pts) and Overall Impression (0-10pts).

Total score then falls into these categories: A problematic beer (0-13), Fair (14-20), Good (21-29), Very Good (30-37), Excellent (38-44), Outstanding (45-50). (Are the word descriptions here official? Because the scale, to me, seems skewed to favorable descriptions. Seems like the Good should be Fair, the Very Good should be Good, the Excellent should be Very Good, and there should be only one Outstanding/Excellent category)

So how did I do? I logged into the event website to see my scores (the score sheets would arrive several weeks later).Well my porter did about as well as I imagined. I had bottling issues because it was on nitro and I really didn’t know what I was doing, and it was an odd beer with both smoked malt and black strap molasses. I basically got killed in the category,scoring only 24 points. This was bad news, but not unexpected. Had I been able to pour this beer from the tap and hand it to a judge, I think it would have scored a few points higher.

My Kolsch, my pride and joy, scored only slightly higher at 28.6 points (left photo). I was heartbroken when I read the final scores on the event website. Then mad. I worked so hard, perfected my process after two or three batches, and all my friends and family loved it. How could it be so “off” according to the judges? (This is the part where I will remind you that I am only an “okay loser.”)

Kolsch score sheet schwarzbier score sheet my wooden medal

Several weeks passed before I got my scoresheets in the mail, and when I did, initial anger phase behind me, I took them to heart. This is the best part of competing for me. If you tell me what was out of style or incorrect, I can work on these items, making it better the next time. When you read the comments while looking at the scores, everything can become clearer. That said, beer judging is like watching television or choosing a font for your blog. Everybody has a favorite show or font, and it’s probably not the same as someone else’s favorite. These things are very subjective. Because of the subjectivity of beer tastes, entering the same beer into multiple competitions to be judged by multiple different judges – and palates – can show you a trend in judging and help you make better adjustments. Some of my comments were: “tastes like an okay kolsch, but the color and body are a bit off-style,” “slightly heavy for a kolsch, a bit creamy,” and “generally a good effort but the high astringency detracts from the overall drinkability, watch sparge temperatures/over sparging perhaps, keep at it!”

The comments, and encouragement were just what I needed. I learned a few huge lessons.

1) My individual palate is awful at best. I cannot taste (or smell) at the level necessary to be a judge.

2) My friends are drinking my beer for free, and that alone makes it “better” than it probably is.

3) Kolsch is one of the hardest beers to get right. You are not covering it up with hops, dark malt or adjuncts, so any mistake in recipe, process or fermentation comes right through.

And that leaves the schwarzbier on the beer list (middle photo), so you’ve probably guessed this beer did really well. It finished first in its category (right photo), first for all lagers (1 of 4) and then 10^th overall in the Best of Show round. I was completely shocked and very humbled. Once again, the feedback was great and I took it to heart and made a few more tweaks to my recipe in an attempt to make it even better.

So how did my Kolsch do in 2016? Once again, it was crushed. The differences from the kegged version to what was in the bottle were night and day. My feedback from the judges this year was good, and I have a lot of room to improve. So back to the drawing board with hopes of claiming a gold medal next time.

Filter – a four-letter word?

Posted on September 21, 2016 by Ed Sabato

Cloudy beer seems to have become vogue these days, what with the giant IPAs that look like orange juice. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve stood in line for hours myself to buy some pretty insanely priced, and insanely delicious, beers of this type. At the risk of alienating some of my good and supremely generous beer friends, this new fad in beer isn’t something I aspire to recreate in my own brewing.

To filter or not to filter

New filter media

We’ve heard arguments supporting both sides of filtering. Pro-filter brewers view filtering as the hallmark of good craftsmanship and think it proves they care about what they sell to customers. Anti-filter brewers insist that filtering can remove flavor and aroma components. I argue that both sides of this debate have merit and that a middle ground exists for homebrewers and professional brewers alike.

Filtering in the garage

Those of us who homebrew can either “filter” with fining agents, such as gelatin, or by conditioning the beer longer, allowing it to clear naturally through temperature and good old gravity. It’s not like I have a filter setup, so I let my beer sit in secondary fermentation for 1-4 weeks and am rewarded with a reasonably clear beer that gets transferred to the keg. If I then cold condition the beer at 33-35°F for another couple of weeks, the beer clears even further. Neither of these approaches are financially viable for the pro brewers in a world where time = money.

Inserting the media

Filtering

What it removes

The pros have two choices. Filter or Don’t. Some beers are a no-brainer. Hefeweizen, Wits, wheat beers, saisons, etc. are all cloudy by nature, so filtering isn’t necessary and may in fact change the character of the beer. Lagers, IPAs, pale ales and other ale styles can definitely benefit from filtering. But some drawbacks and other matters have to be taken into consideration when filtering. The filter medium can obviously take out things like yeast, remaining trub and even the proteins that form chill haze. Those are all good things to remove, but you can also remove flavor and aroma character.

So if you want to filter your IPA that all your friends rave about, how could you do it without losing that hop character everyone loves so much? I listened to homebrew royalty talk about filtering recently, and he answered the dilemma of removing hop character with three simple words. “Add more hops.” Brew your IPA, filter it and compare to the original non-filtered version, then adjust your recipe.

Filtering beyond the garage set-up

Outside of the garage, filtering is a little more precise. In my internship at a small brew pub, I recently got the chance to participate in the filtering of three different beers in the same day. The machine is basically a series of plates where the beer flows through an orifice on one plate, through the filter media, and then out another orifice on the next plate. The plates alternate back and forth and the beer is moving through more than 20 of the plates on this particular filter.

Once the brewers have inserted the filtering media between the plates of the filter machine, they compress the plates until they are just barely touching each other. Then, they spray the filtering plates and media with fresh water to allow for expansion, and pump cold fresh water through the filter to facilitate even more expansion. The filter is compressed again to slow the leaking between the plates. This hydrate-compress process is repeated until the filter is completely hydrated and the leak rate is minimal. Finally, before the beer goes through, the filter is sanitized with sanitizer or boiling water. On this particular day, I watched more than 100 gallons of boiling water go through the filter to sanitize it. As a side note, wearing gloves while handling the hoses after 100 gallons of boiling water have gone through the filter is highly recommended. At last, using CO2 pressure, we pushed beer through a pump, through the filter, and into the brite tank.

The pump is in the line to help push the beer through the filter because the fermenter is only rated to 15psi working pressure. As the beer starts flowing through the filter media, and the media strips out impurities, the flow of beer out of the filter slows. This is where the pump becomes critical. Once the fermenter is completely empty, we remove and replace the filter media. It is possible to use the filter media a second time if the filter is back-flushed and sanitized a second time.

The reward for filtering is immediately apparent. I watched hazy beer in the sight glass of the “in” side, and clear beer fill the “out” sight glass. I would also be an idiot if I did not mention the beer in the fermenter is already cold (33°F). This is done because any proteins that would form a chill haze will be present and are then filtered out. A well-known brewery that touts its cold-filtered system sounds impressive, when in fact, cold-filtering is the industry standard for breweries that produce 200 barrels a year and those that produce 50 million barrels.

My take

The concept of filtering is a tough one for me personally. I have always taken time to ensure that my beers are as clear as possible before serving or entry into competition. The key point is that this takes time. The “shortcut,” if that’s even the right term, is to actually filter the beer. I guess ultimately this is a matter of personal taste, style and economics. Filtering systems aren’t cheap, and the process isn’t as easy as you would think. Filtering takes time and is incredibly boring. Trust me, I spent eight hours filtering. The payoff is holding a beer up to the light and seeing crystal clear beer.

Much to my wife’s dismay, I see a filtering system being added to my inventory.

Seasonal – Kick In The Nuts

Posted on August 27, 2016 by Ed Sabato

What is it about the “creeping seasons” in America? You start seeing Halloween candy in August, Christmas stuff by Halloween, commercials for the Olympic Games during the Super Bowl, and rampant consumerism drives everything. This phenomenon isn’t just limited to selling decorations, clothing, costumes and fragrances. This crazy business world works the same way for brewers.

Release dates for seasonal beers are moving much the same way consumer holidays are. Just the other August night, I was in a bar after work letting the emails and stupidity slip away by manner of direct hop consumption. One of my friends orders “whatever Sam Adams you have on tap,” and the server comes back with a beautiful glass of Oktoberfest. A solid beer for sure, but on August 19? And I was in Honolulu, which means the beer was shipped to go on tap several weeks earlier. Oktoberfest doesn’t start in Munich until September 17, when the first kegs of the sanctioned (and only in Munich) Oktoberfest beers will be tapped by the limited breweries that can legally make them. So why the rush here in the U.S.?

Well, no one wants their winter ale to hit shelves two weeks after competitors. Creeping seasons is all about marketing, shelf space and the fist-to-skull world of big corporate brewers. And the way to avoid it is to seek “seasonals” that are actually seasonal.

Any idiot can brew an Oktoberfest in October or a Spring Bock in the Fall (I am an idiot, so I would know). What you can’t do very well is brew a seasonal beer with fresh ingredients when they are not fresh. What does that mean?

Everyone knows a fresh-picked tomato in late July/August makes the best BLT in the world. An apple pulled off the tree in September/October tastes like nothing else. So why don’t we seek beers like that? We do. The beer world loses its collective mind over some seasonal releases. Take Dogfish Head’s pumpkin beer. Dogfish Head will not brew it without freshly processed pumpkins. Then look at all the “wet hop” or “fresh hop” beers. Brewers have a limited window to get these hops and only hours to brew with them. That’s what makes these beers great.

I had the opportunity to see two real seasonal beers in the last few weeks. The first was a fresh hop beer using Gargoyle and Cascade hops. In a 7,000-mile round trip, the Brew Master flew to California, procured the hops, and flew back the same day. Straight from the airport and into the brew kettle. You cannot fake it; you cannot freeze the hops and call it “fresh hopped” beer. You cannot move the date forward for fiscal expediency. You just can’t.

The second beer was even more “seasonal,” a toasted macadamia nut and local honey nut brown ale. To start with, very, very few “nut browns” actually use tree nuts. In this case, freshly harvested macadamia nuts, right from the tree, were toasted, filling the entire brewery with the most amazing aroma. It smelled like heaven for almost an hour. Then, raw, unfiltered honey was added for body and to dry out the beer little. Truly, the brewing of this genuinely seasonal beer was amazing, and it will be the first real “honey nut brown” I have had in quite a while. A higher mash temp, a great malt bill and some care will create a truly original, and more importantly, truly SEASONAL beer.

My point is that, if we are to really enjoy beer at its finest, we all need to seek out that summer-fresh BLT in beer form. Can you enjoy the Oktoberfest offerings in August? Absolutely. But what’s the delight for our taste buds in that? Something so gratifying (and delicious) comes from seeking out the real seasonal beers, standing in lines, trading for them, begging friends who live close to the brewery, and savoring beers brewed at the absolute perfect time.

Malty McMaltface and the Maltinium Falcon

Posted on August 9, 2016 by Ed Sabato

lt is the heart and soul of beer. Period. So grab a beer, and let’s talk about it.

Other homebrewers and pro brewers might contend that yeast makes beer, and they would be right. Yeast makes beer what it is, but only based on the raw materials present. For example, let’s say you have a pile of very expensive hardwood. An artist or craftsman could take pieces of wood out of the pile and make a violin or carve a beautiful sculpture. I, on the other hand, could probably only make a campfire…that is, if I also had enough gasoline. The point is that the basic building blocks (malt) are the same and the artist and arsonist (Yeast) both make something different from it.

Treatment of malt in both the homebrew and commercial brewery are very similar. The grain comes out of the bag intact and must be “crushed” to expose the inside of the grain to the mash (“strike”) water. When exposed to water in the 144-160⁰F range, enzymes present in the malt begin to convert starch to sugars that can be consumed by our artist friend, Yeast. However, for this homebrewer, the scale of malt, how it is milled, how it’s moved to the mash tun (where it is steeped in that hot water) and how it is hydrated in a commercial brewery was an eye-opener.

Freshly ground grain goes into the sieves

First of all, the milling process was much, much bigger. On the homebrew level, most grain mills are either powered by a hand crank or turned with a 3/8 – 1/2” electric drill. Even at a relatively small brewery like the one where I am volunteering, a giant AC motor turns the mill. At the homebrew level, a big beer (think Russian Imperial Stout or Barley Wine) might use 16-20 pounds of grain for a five-gallon batch. On the commercial level of seven barrels (about 217 gallons) even a relatively small ABV beer uses 375-400 pounds of grain.

To start the milling process, we do a crush test on about 6-8 pounds of grain to see if the mill is performing the way it should. The test grain is captured in a bin and a portion removed and weighed. Once we weigh it, we put the grain in a giant, five-layer, multi-screen sieve, where it’s mechanically – and violently – shaken for a minute or two. We take the sieve apart and weigh the contents of each layer of the sieve, with particular interest in the “course grit” and “fine grit” layers. If these two comprise at least 80% of the total weight, the mill is working properly and we are ready to brew.

Grain awaiting the mill

Next step: start the mill and start the auger. Just like at the homebrew level, the mill is inertia-driven and needs to be moving before you start adding grain. Once we start adding grain to the mill hopper, we can never let it run empty, because the auger is dropping the grain through the hydrator while the hydrator is mixing very hot water (about 10⁰F above the desired mash temperature) with the milled grain. If the grain stops, the mash gets hotter than we want it. Sounds easy enough, but the grain bags weigh 50-55 pounds and the hopper only holds about 25-30 pounds of grain, which means you have no time to open another bag. They must all be prepared and staged right next to the mill ahead of time.

The hydrator where milled grain and hot water meet

Something I did not expect about milling and mashing at the commercial level was the strict order to putting grain through the mill. Base malts (80% or more of the total malt bill) go in first and last, with the specialty malts (those to add colors, flavors or character) in the middle. This ensures that base malts are the last malt to pass through the auger, so as not to throw off the next crush test.

While one person puts bag after bag of malt through the mill, the brewer controls the water going into the hydrator, to maintain the desired temperature, while also continuously stirring the mash. Although this doesn’t sound too labor intensive, I assure you it is something to watch. No one who mashes in a mash tun that is not automated (a motor driven mash “rake”) is without blisters and calluses.

The spent grain

Once the mashing is complete, we begin the vorlauf process – recirculating the newly created sugary water (wort) through the mash to further clarify the wort. Since the husks and grain bed make an excellent filter, this part doesn’t take very long. Once the vorlauf is complete, we move the wort to the boil kettle while simultaneously adding hot water from the hot liquor tank (sadly, there is no liquor in the hot liquor tank) to the top of the mash tun to rinse out all of the useable sugar out so that it can be converted to alcohol. When the mash tun is empty, we remove the now “spent grain,” which is then responsibly recycled either into livestock feed or burger and slider rolls for the brewpub.

My First Day

Posted on July 28, 2016 by Ed Sabato

July 16: I was carrying my water bottle, a bag with two beers from Massachusetts to drink with the brewers at the end of the day and all the excitement of a kid the night before Christmas. The 10-minute walk from my apartment to the brewery felt like a year.

I arrived five minutes early to find Head Brewer Eric already deep into the day’s tasks. Apprentice Brewer Matt started showing me the ropes immediately, and within 10 minutes, even in the cool morning breeze at 7 a.m., I could feel my brand new brewery hat becoming wet with sweat.

So what do you do on your first day as a volunteer at a brewpub in the tropics? Just about everything.

First, open up the bar and brewery sliding doors, put out all the chairs and unlock everything for the day.
Learn how to use a tri-clamp…and how hard it is…and what it sounds like when you drop it.
Start the caustic cleaning cycle in the fermenter that previously contained the jalapeno beer.
Repeat said caustic cycle, because the fermenter stills smells like jalapenos. (Note to self: chili pepper oils tend to stick around, so use a designated fermenter).
Hot-water rinse the fermenter.
Sanitize the fermenter, three times.
Build the keg-filling rigs and the yeast rigs.
Move kegs, fill kegs, deliver keg (that’s right – I delivered a keg to a bar around the corner – after all, I did say I wanted to learn everything).
Get grain (50 or 55 lb bags), mill grain, learn how to open and how not to open up a grain bag.
Clean out mashtun, putting the spent grains in giant rolling trashcans for the local farmers to pick up. Nothing gets wasted, the spent grains are either fed to livestock or made into slider buns by a local bakery.
Eat…and realize that I am beginning to get really sore (already, or just, five hours in to the workday).
Measure out hops additions…twice, because someone spilled some (someone other than me, thankfully).
Squeegee everything, always keeping the water moving toward the drain.
“Pack the heat exchanger with caustic” fresh water rinse, sanitize the heat exchanger before transferring beer to the fermenter.
Polish three 7-barrel fermenters. Yep, that sucked, but – like a good field day in the Navy – it has to be done.
Split a ½ barrel (15 gallons) into three 1/6 barrels (obviously 5 gallons each)
Move hoses and pumps (all day).
Clean the grain mill – twice, because I didn’t do it right the first time.
Learn that a 7-barrel pitch of Cal Ale costs almost $300, which is why they go five generations with yeast harvested from the fermenters.
Clean up after the boil process while transferring the hot wort through the sanitized heat exchanger (boil temp to 70F) and then into the fermenter. (This step is called “knock out”)
Get sent home 90 minutes early, because the professionals are pretty sure they almost killed the “volunteer” on his first day.
Shower and go back for beers.
Revel in surviving the first day

At the end of that first day I had some pretty big takeaways.

Standing on concrete all day is hard on your body, and ridiculously hard on mine. Take Aleve before starting the work day and wear good work boots.
Working in a brewery is hot, damp work. If you are not completely soaked with sweat, you will be with brewery water. Make sure you have good, waterproof work boots.
Even after having my ass kicked all day, you couldn’t tell by the smile on my face. The adrenaline thrill can pretty much get you through anything.

Over our next beer, we will discuss all things grain.

The Midwatch Brewing Co.

Adventure by the Pint.

Author Archives: Ed Sabato