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A journal that chronicles my brewing adventures, trials and tribulations from Santa Cruz, California to San Miguel De Allende, Mexico.


As a new brewer I was perplexed at the pure joy that would appear on the faces of fellow brewers that considered these beers to be among the best the world had to offer. I would turn up my nose in disgust at the thought of sampling a bottle and beg them for a simple explanation for their odd preference. At the time, they couldn't provide me with a satisfactory answer. Mostly because I wouldn't listen. Now, I think I understand. Over time I have sampled an odd assortment and what I like about the sour beers is the complexity of the flavors, the unique dimensions that the bacteria brings to the blend and how these beers surprisingly satisfy and quench my thirst.
In the case of the subject of this post, the Duchesse De Bourgogne, I look beyond the initial "in your face" apple vinegar, acidic flavor. I can enjoy the way my glands release a dose of saliva with that initial tart cidery sip and the dark dried fruit and caramel sweetness comes to the forefront. My mouth soon dries out and asks for another sip to repeat the experience. The barnyardy, wet horse blanket flavors of gueuse are not present in this beer but for some inexplicable reason my tastebud search it out like flashlights in the darkness of the sour.
This is a good beer to offer the uninitiated, although my wife's face puckered up with aversion when I asked her "taste this and tell me what you think!".
In the beer tastings that I conduct, I like to begin with a beer like the Duchesses when sampling the Belgians before advancing into the depths of something like a gueuse. It has just the right amount of the unusual balanced with the familiar, that can introduce someone into an entirely new region of the beer kingdom. A door opener into the realm of funky.
For more on this beer and the brewery it comes from go
here.
Are you a sour beer fan? Leave a comment.
bout three days. You
could also, step this culture up again growing the colony to an even greater population. To do this, repeat the process above and add to the yeast colony that you already started. First, pour off the excess liquid from the original starter, then add the fresh batch of boiled and cooled malt extract. The yeast will go through the same process as before, growing and consuming the new sugars. After several more days you will have an even larger yeast colony that will go to work quickly to ferment your next batch of beer. If you're not ready to pitch when the starter is complete then place it in the refrigerator until ready to use. Some brewers will pitch the entire content of the starter but I usually decant the liquid off the top of the yeast leaving enough liquid to swirl the yeast into solution so that all of the yeast pours out easily.
and along side that we brewed a pale ale using 1/2 lb. of steeping grains and dry malt extract with three additions of hops.
As I write this, I am sampling the pale ale and am very pleased with the results. The hefeweizen turned out good also and I tasted it along with the students last week.
1. Efficiency - how effective I was at extracting the grain sugars
10 lbs. 2-row @ 1.037 = 370
Along with fellow Zymurgeeks, I rolled out the brew sculpture to brew up 10 gallons of Rye IPA to demonstrate our homebrewing skills and field questions about the art of homebrewing beer to the curious observers. What better a place to exhibit the process than at a beer festival in our own back yard, the Monterey Beer Festival. On hand to serve up samplings of their finest beverages were many west coast breweries. Right next to us was Santa Cruz's own , Uncommon Brewers serving a delicious Baltic Porter and Belgian ale. Conveniently located right next door to our booth, we could simply hand our glass over for refills, avoiding the extensive line.
The fairgrounds filled quickly with thirsty 20 somethings looking for quality beer and the longest line formed at the Deschutes beer barrel dispensing wagon with several beers on tap including one of my favorites 'Mirror Pond Pale Ale'.
On the opposite side of the grassy field, Jason, the head brewer from Seabright Brewing of Santa Cruz, was on site personally handing out samples of his IPA. With our brewing fully underway, Dave, my brewing partner for the day, and I headed over to be interviewed by The Brewing Network as they broadcast a live feed of the event. They talked to us about our local homebrew club and about how we were getting along with our demonstration. I was a little nervous but don't feel like I came across too weird. Creepy maybe, but not weird. I got the chance to plug my homebrewing classes at Cabrillo College. Thanks guys. You can listen to the entire postcast. here





When I introduce a colony of yeast to my freshly brewed wort, a syncronistic pattern of co-existent partnership falls into place. I play my part on the macro level as a brewer creating a source of sugar and the yeast carry on the process doing their part to transform the sugars ending with a final product that is our combined artistry. The mutually beneficial development of this collusion of man and yeast is ancient and symbiotic. This relationship is one that can only be described as 'divine'.
I feel I owe yeast a dept of gratitude because they are my partners and because they were here first. They deserve my respect at least, if not reverence. But how do I repay my dept to them? I use them and then pour them down the driveway and hose them off into the gutter, or worst still, simply dump them down the drain of the kitchen sink.
Do I feel shame for these acts? Sometimes, along with regret for not being a better partner, not living up to the bargain I struck with them to work together, forever. Unfortunately, the ugly cycle is repeated almost every week and the abuse continues. I know, I could avoid this disservice by salvaging them or washing clean and storing them for future work together, but they grow so quickly. I am only one man, they are billions of souls multiplying exponentially with only one mission, to ferment my beer. Do they love me? I don't think so, I think they selfishly yearn to be fed without regard for my feelings and maybe in spite of them, so I tell myself. I rinse them down the drain, partly out of laziness and also because I don't think they care that much, maybe not at all.
But they are smart and yes, a little bit cute. They know enough to propagate their colony to just the right size to match the volume of sugar in a batch of wort. They know how long to multiply and how long to ferment and when to relax and settle to the bottom of my fermenter. They know these things.
Sometimes I imagine them looking up from the bottom of my fermenter into my face as I stare down at them after racking the beer off. A beer that they so obediently fermented. They have no eyes but I believe they see me and whisper amongst themselves "will he feed us or will he kill us!". It saddens me that they can read my mind when I decide to kill them. Kill, it sounds so horrible, I'd rather say 'throw them away' but even that doesn't quell my guilt. Normally I don't anthropomorphise, this is true, but with my good friends the yeast, I have to be honest, they are like brothers. Brothers I end up killing.