College is a time in our lives when we live in dorms, eat late night Ramen, procrastinate before we can get work done, and talk about life dreams.  When the weekend arrives, the joy of keg stands, boat racing, and beer pong fill up our nights.  Sleep becomes meaningless, and the sun rising just means it is time to sober up with some black coffee and fresh eggs. It’s a constant hunt for women, parties, and a good brew.

The major upside to turning 21 is that my dorm fridge is now constantly stocked, and there is nothing my R.A. can do about it.  When I became legal, my beer consumption increased a lot. If there was time to go back to my dorm between classes, I’d read with a cold brew at my desk. If I went out to eat at some joint, I ordered the cheapest dish just so I could afford to accompany it with a good beer.  I once had gotten by on the prototypical college campus beers: Heineken, Stella Artois, and Samuel Adams. On desperate nights, there was the less than desired Natty Ice when on Greek Row after midnight.

But then on a visit with family friend on a crisp warm day in New Jersey before Easter, I discovered the first beer that inspired me to want more than just a mass market cold one.  It was Terrapin Brewing’s Hopsecutioner from Athens, Georgia. The citrus bite and full mouth feel of hops enveloped my head in a way that went beyond any prior beer experience I’d ever had.  That first great beer made me fall in love with craft brews made by companies like Terrapin. For the first time, I discovered the big distinction between the frost pale lager of huge beer conglomerates and the quality microbrews, and I realized that the exploration for great beer offered me an educational experience beyond the classroom.

Beer becomes more than a path to intoxication when you turn 21. It becomes its own Liberal Arts education. I can test my palate, study the chemistry that goes into brewing a solid beer, and observe the marketing and commercialization of the beer industry.  This column will discuss the journeys of the young Nite-Hawk at work, tasting beers, meeting people, and enjoying the big picture that is still forming.

Written by

Max Lehman

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Rule number one of homebrewing: YOU MUST BE CLEAN.

Now, I’m not saying Hubby and I are slobs.  We’re not.  But we’re definitely not Martha Stewart with a dustpan either.  We do routinely clean down our place, but once we started homebrewing, we discovered that our idea of “clean” needs to be notched up to OCD standards.  Why?  Because all it takes is dirt, dust, or whatever else that’s lying around your work area, inside your carboy, bottles, or equipment to make a potentially tasty brew not so tasty at all.

So when Hubby and I start a homebrew, we get manic.  We bust out the Clorox and we start attacking our kitchen and bathtub (the place where we clean the carboy and bottles).  We’re kneeling on the floor on our hands and knees and scrubbing so hard that it feels like exercise.

Let me be honest here.  I’ve never cleaned so much in my life.

Again, I’m not a slob.  Hubby is admittedly the taskmaster when it comes to cleaning. He’ll tell me what to clean and I’m on it.  But in general, well…I’m a hoarder.  No, it’s not so bad that I need to be on the television show.  But I have a really bad habit of never throwing anything away.  As a writer, pages and pages pile up on the desk, which is already full with my printer and computer.  The pages then spill over to the couch, and this all  happens to be in the den/writing room/beer storage room.  I never know what to throw away, which essentially means I should probably chuck it all.

See, my writer’s mentality is messing with my new beer mentality. After hours of scrubbing certain parts of our apartment to death, I face the den/writing room/beer storage room and I think, How can I live like this? How is Hubby still married to a hoarder like me?  This got me thinking.  What was it about homebrewing that inspires me to clean when I need to? Well, creating a tasty beer is really an astounding motivator.

Hubby and I each have our tasks when we clean.  Hubby takes the kitchen and most of the equipment.  I clean the bucket and all 50 some bottles.  It’s a daunting task, wiping 50 some bottles clean.  But despite the fact most of my body smells like cleaning solution and my hands are in the water so long, they become wrinkled and worn down, I don’t mind how long cleaning takes me.  Why?  Because I always think, It’s not worth messing up a potentially tasty beer for laziness.  

I believe my new beer mentality is perhaps telling me — Let go of the hoarder in you.  Because really, what do I need all these random papers for?  When it comes to writing, my mind gets caught up in the words, and I think of little else.  I’m also always writing and working several nights a week to constantly finish one assignment after another.  The work builds up and then at the end of the day I think, I just don’t want to deal with the paper.   But since my writing room/den has melded with our new beer life, maybe my writing mentality needs to meld with my beer mentality as well.  Maybe I should start thinking, It’s not worth messing up a potentially good writing piece by being so cluttered. 

Perhaps if I free the den/writing room/beer storage room from the clutter, then my writing in general will feel less cluttered, and I’ll be able to focus more on each writing assignment as it comes.  Who knows?  But it’s an experiment worth trying.  At the very least, I know Hubby will be pleased if I make more of an initiative in the cleanliness factor.  After all, it doesn’t seem fair for him always to be the taskmaster.

It’s funny how much homebrewing has motivated me to take a look at the other parts of my life.  Homebrewing takes so much work, patience and care that it’s never worth rushing the process.  Like I learned in our first brew, it’s always better to wait then to crack open a beer before its ready. Let it mature to where it needs to be.  Maybe I’m the beer.  Just growing up a little bit more.

Written by

Celena Cipriaso

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History is delicious. Or at least the part of history that inspires Yards Brewing Company to bottle their concoctions and sell them to the general public. The second in their line of Ales of the Revolution, Poor Richard’s Tavern Spruce Ale is derived from a recipe used by none other than Benjamin Franklin.  According to the Yards website, the brew, which calls for spruce essence and molasses, is a touch different.  Think of this beer as akin to that one weird band you like but that that doesn’t really fit in to the rest of your repertoire of tastes.

Even before it’s poured, the Tavern Spruce’s aroma emanates from the bottle to your brain, dousing your olfactory neurons with heavy malt notes and a touch of smokiness. The beer pours a medium brown hue and settles pleasantly into the glass, making me all the more eager to savor the last one in the case. Upon first taste, Ben’s brew is sweet, smoky and smooth. Most of all, it is quite pleasant; an even, balanced taste experience that would make the revolutionary proud.  The flavors are complex, with a citrusy, slightly lemony flavor that hits its peak when the beer is still chilled. A tickle of hops makes a faint appearance at the end, which must actually be the spruce.

All in all, I’d label this particular Ale as my favorite of the bunch, although Thomas Jefferson’s Tavern Ale (still to come) has a shot at taking the crown. Mr. Franklin certainly knew how to brew a tasty beer, albeit a robust, flavorful and filling one. I don’t know how many of these I could tackle at a time, but I do know a six-pack would be ideal to share with a couple friends, even the ones who haven’t been fully awakened to what a great beer can taste like.

Style: Spruce Ale
Brewer: Yards Brewing Company
Origin: Philadelphia, PA
ABV: 5.0%

For newcomers to the craft beer world, the idea of a milk stout is slightly disconcerting. One might think: Milk + Beer = A disastrous combination; luckily, the term is not exactly literal. A milk stout uses an ingredient called lactose which gives the stout a slightly sweet and smooth/ milky texture. I’ve taken a nice basic milk stout recipe and added a twist — aging the beer on American Oak Cubes to add dryness and balance the sweetness of a typical milk stout.

• Pre/post-boil volume – 6/5 gal
• O.G. – 1.067
• F.G. – 1.017
• ABV – 6.6%
• IBU –  60.4
• SRM – 42

Grains/ Adjuncts

• 8 lb       Domestic 2-row Malt
• 1 lb       German Munich 8L
• 1 lb       British Pale Chocolate 200L
• 8 oz      Blackprinz Malt 500L (or Carafa Special III if unavailable)
• 8 oz      Flaked Barley 1.5L
• 8 oz      Crystal 120L
• 4 oz      Crystal 80L

 Hops/Spices

• 1.25 oz Magnum (13.1%AA) @ 60 min

Yeast

• Wyeast 1728 – Scottish Ale

Ferment for 1 – 2 weeks until beer reaches desired finishing gravity. Once fermentation is complete, rack to a secondary carboy on top of 2 oz of sanitized American Oak Cubes for a period of 14-28 days depending on the level of added oak/wood character desired (sample beer to verify). Rack wood cubes and bottle the beer with 3/4 cup of priming/corn sugar.

Grain – Blackprinz (500L):  Blackprinz is a relatively new malt to the market, patented and introduced by the Briess Malting Co.  Produced from hulless barley, it is a highly kilned malt with a very high Lovibond level, which will impart a very dark brown to black color in your beers. While having a similar color contribution as Black Patent or Roasted Barley, it adds a very delicate, clean toasted malty flavor.  Blackprinz malt doesn’t impart the bitter, astringent, dry flavors or aftertaste associated with other highly kilned malts. Similar to de-husked black malt from Germany called Carafa, Blackprinz is most appropriately used in Black IPAs, Schwartzbiers or any dark ales or lagers where a dark color is desired.

Hops – Magnum:  Originally from Germany, this high alpha hops has become my favorite and most utilized hop in my brewing arsenal. Known for its smooth bittering value and quality, you can use more of it than many recipes specify, making Magnum the perfect hop to use in almost any beer from IPA to Imperial Stout.  Despite having a huge Alpha Acid level of between 12-15 AA%, it has a subtle flavor and aroma profile compared to a stronger Willamette. Therefore, Magnum pairs well with other lightly earthy and spicy hops including Willamette, Fuggles and British East Kent Goldings.

Yeast – Wyeast 1728 – Scottish Ale:  An often overlooked European yeast strain, the Scottish ale strain is very versatile and ferments quite neutral and clean. If fermented at a higher temperature, your beer will exhibit an increased ester profile. Originally harvested from the McEwan’s brewery, it is ideally suited for more malt focused ales. Scottish Ale 1728 also has a higher tolerance for alcohol production, as compared to other European ale strains. It has great success in Wee Heavys, English Barleywines and other various Dark Strong Ales including Baltic Porters, Imperial Stouts and Holiday Specialty Ales.

Extra – Oak-aging:   Aging beers on various types of oak is a new trend that commercial brewers are utilizing more and more these days. Some choose to just age the beer on oak cubes, chips or spirals, and others decide rack the beer into full oak barrels. Most homebrewers do not have the space or means to own a complete barrel, so thankfully there is an acceptable substitute for smaller scale systems.  Oak cubes and chips come in various levels of toast (light, medium or dark) and have different origins as well (French, American or Hungarian). These high quality oak products allow you to achieve the same quality of oak flavor that you taste in good wines. Cubes have a longer contact time than traditional chips do, which make them better for long-term aging of beers. Also, longer contact time means longer extraction of flavors (3-6 months), which leads to a more complex combination of flavors. After a week, oak chips should be removed, to avoid contributing a harsh, flat oak flavor. Because of this, I prefer cubes because they allow a more forgivable leeway when aging beers. French oak is also the preferred choice of many brewers because it imparts sweeter and vanilla overtones compared to American oak, which tends to be more intensely flavored clove and nutmeg type spiciness.

The nitty-gritty: Anywhere from 2-4 oz of oak cubes is a good starting point for aging your first beer. I recommend starting with 30-60 days in the secondary carboy and then sample your beer to see how it tastes oak-wise. If you want more character, wait longer.

Written by

Christopher LaSpada

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Before I moved to the West Coast two years ago, I didn’t know much about Seattle — except that people were serious about their coffee. They respected it. They nurtured it. They invented the concept of paying $5 for it. It wasn’t until I lived there that I understood that the city is packed with fans of another tasty beverage: craft beer.

As a lifelong Midwesterner, I had come to expect very little from a brewery tour. Until the tour at Redhook Brewery, the most memorable experience I had with a brewery had been at the Miller Brewery in Milwaukee. The tour was quite similar to their product: cheap, watered down and exciting only to teenagers.  Nothing was sadder than the tour guide. Donning her mandatory khakis, she shuffled us up and down the winding, refrigerated hallways. She muttered out memorized jokes, her eyes cast desperately into the distance hoping to avoid answering questions.

When we headed to Redhook Brewery, I feared the possibilities of a Pacific Northwest version of the eye shifting, unfunny, and sad Miller guide, whose depressing aura would be compounded by the regular intervals of rain outside.  Instead, the tour guides were enthusiastic and very funny, and the tour itself were a fascinating look into the history of the company.

Redhook Ale Brewery is one of the oldest and largest craft brewers in the area. The company is part of Craft Brewers Alliance, making it part of a trifecta of companies with Widmer Brothers Brewing Company and Hawaii’s Kona Brewing Company. The company started in Seattle in 1981 and has since expanded their operation to a larger brewery in suburban Woodinville, Wash., and an East Coast outpost in Portsmouth, NH. The Woodinville spot is complete with a restaurant, bar and holds multiple tours a day.  The guide let us sample five of their brews throughout the tour, including the popular Redhook ESB and seasonal Mudslinger Brown Ale.

If you’re ever in the Seattle area, I highly recommend experiencing a Redhook tour yourself.  Insider’s note: Remember the five-beer sampler from the tour? Well, don’t tell anyone I told you, but you may get an extra glass of beer as a prize during the tour.

Written by

Eve Porcello

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Me drunkenly stirring the ingredients

We had dreams that our Irish Stout would be a first time masterpiece that would surpass even the best Guinness.  Which, of course, did not happen.    Despite the hours, days, and weeks of brewing, waiting, bottling and fermenting, the first homebrew was not perfect.  Which can be a hard beer to swallow.

Well, all right, so I exaggerate a bit.  The first brew was not a disaster.  Truth be told, for all the so-called planning the Husband and I did about the first brew, we literally crammed for the big test the night before.  When we decided to homebrew, we did everything right.  We bought the equipment.  We bought the homebrew guide books.  We bought the kit.  We set aside a day to brew and scheduled it on our shared Google Calendar: BREW DAY.  It was a appointment the Husband and I couldn’t possibly miss.  But in all the time we’d been prepping, while we bought the homebrew books — we didn’t necessarily read all of the homebrew books.  Yes, it’s like that moment in Knocked Up.  When a tripped out Paul Rudd asked Seth Rogen, “You didn’t read the baby books? You gotta read the baby books.”

Well, to our defense, we did read the homebrew book, The Complete Joy to Homebrewing.  Okay, to be more precise, we read the beginners section, which was a benign 30 or so pages.  When my husband and I first flipped through the book, we both decided, “We don’t have to read the intermediate section, right?  We’re definitely not intermediates yet.”  The intermediate section was 200 pages of the book.   We wanted to say on shallow side of the kiddie pool — not be the badass loudmouth idiots jumping into the deep end.  Well, not me at least.  My husband was already waxing poetic about opening up a brewpub.  He’d stare moodily at our brew kit and say, “But when are we going to decide what the ingredients are?”  I’d pat him on the head and say, “Honey, when we’ve brewed a few times.  We’re beginners, remember?”  A beginner was not a bad thing to be.

Our homework before Brew Day was for each of us to read the beginners section of Joys of Homebrewing.  Our guide was the great homebrew master, Charlie Papazian, who says constantly throughout the first chapter, Relax. Don’t worry.  Have a homebrew.  Or if you don’t have a homebrew available, regular store bought beer will do.  This advice was quite comforting to both of us.  It spoke of a great truth all beer lovers already know — beer makes life easier.  Before Brew Day, we made sure to go out and buy several six packs of beer — good stuff like Founder’s Porter.

The Brew Day arrived.  We were excited.  We felt prepped.  We opened our beers, toasted to each other, and then sat down to read the brew kit instructions.  Then…we read them again.  We opened the boxes to our brewing equipment and stared at it with confused looks on our faces. “Do you feel like we’re little kids in a Harvard Chemistry lab?” I asked Husband.  I then stared at the beer hydrometer and furrowed my brows together.  “How do you read this?” I wailed to the Husband.

The Husband calmly brought over Papazian’s book and opened it to the picture of a happy couple drinking beer and homebrewing with big blissful grins.  Husband told me, “We can be these happy, brewing people.”  I nodded.  In the great words of Papazian, we said to each other, “Relax. Don’t worry.  Have a homebrew.  Or if you don’t have a homebrew available, regular store bought beer will do.”  So we drank more beer, futzed around with the equipment even more, trying to match up to the diagrams and pictures in the book. More importantly, trying to be the happy couple in the book.

By the time we’d figure which tube went with what, what a beer hydrometer did, and how to take a specific gravity reading, about an hour or two had passed.  And much beer had been consumed.  As we set about boiling our ingredients,  Husband and I looked at each other and said, “We’re relaxed.  We had beer.  But…we’re drunk.”  So much for being the calm, happy couple in the Joy of Homebrewing.

To make a long story short, we made it through the Brew Day.  We did get confused.  We did yell at each other a bit.  “No that’s not how you do it!” I’d scream.  “Oh, yeah, then how do you do it?” Husband would reply.  We finished the six packs.  We worked our way through the brew kit instructions.  When things got too stressful, I decided we’d have a dance party.  Florence and the Machine’s The Dog Days are Over was very helpful in getting us through the complications.

At the end of it all, when the brew was sitting in the carboy, we looked at each other and said, “But…why isn’t it bubbling?  Is it a defunct brew?  Is something wrong with it?   Did we just make a bad brew? Will we have made 50 bottles worth of crap no one will want to drink?”  We worried. We fretted.  We forced ourselves away from the Brewing Den so not to hover over the beer.  After all, hovering over beer won’t fix it, right?

Anyway, that night as we slept, I kept tossing and turning.  Finally, I got up around 2am and went into the Brewing Den.  Bubbles were happily bubbling for our brew.  I shouted, “It’s bubbling!”  “Yay!” Husband mumbled from his sleep in the next room.  I crawled back into bed.

An hour later, the Husband woke up to check on the beer himself and yelled, “It’s still bubbling!”  “Yay!” I yelled from my sleep in the next room.  Yes, this entire procedure continued for the rest of the night.

After bottling and fermenting time had passed, weeks later we finally opened up the brew…and it was okay.  We frowned.  We sipped it.  We wondered if there was any alcohol in it at all.  According to the Husband’s calculations, we basically had a 2.0 ABV Irish Stout on our hands.  I’m a decent lightweight and I’d have to possibly drink 20 of these bottles to feel a thing.  Husband said with disappointment, “This is not as good as Founder’s Porter.”  To which I just rolled my eyes and said, “We are not Founders!”

Then the following week, it was Friends-Giving time,that lovely time of year when we gather with our friends and eat turkey.  We hesitantly offered our beer to others.  “Wait,” I said before a friend took a sip. “Let me try it first.”  And it was…better.  Not amazing, but a whole lot better.  Which goes to show how waiting and patience can do your homebrew a kindness.

We’re on to the next brew.  This time, we’ll relax.  Have a homebrew.  Because at 2.0 ABV, there’s no way we’d get drunk.

Written by

Celena Cipriaso

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General Washington’s Tavern Porter

The oft-overused quip, “simple minds, simple pleasures,” finds adversaries in both the history and taste of General Washington’s Tavern Porter. As one of the Ales of the Revolution, a series of beers based on recipes created by our Founding Fathers, the Tavern Porter provides a sumptuous, simple flavor that originates from a rather high-minded individual. While I am not so well-versed in the life of General George himself, my guess is he wasn’t so much of a simple man with a simple mind. Yet, the simple flavor of “his” Tavern Porter afforded me a few simple pleasures.

The beer pours about as close to opaque brown as you can get, offering the nose a combination of roasted malts and chocolate with faint hints of smokiness. To enjoy the full aroma and flavor, let this beer warm up a bit. Given the upcoming wintry months (for those of us in the north), room temperature (assuming you don’t keep the house at 78) would be fairly close to ideal. Don’t worry, the higher ABV and boldness will give you all the warm tingles you could ever need.

Being that I tend to err on the impatient side, I can confidently inform you that when still chilled, the flavor is rather robust, with a light bitterness. As it warms, that bitterness dissipates and your tongue is allowed to indulge in the sweeter, dark roasted toffee flavor, which also has a touch of molasses. The bitterness follows briefly at the finish, capped off with a reprisal of the molasses in the aftertaste.

The beer is bit of the cut-and-dry standard porter. Still, it’s a well-made beer that was worth every last penny, including the cost of gas to haul it from Pittsburgh to New York City. (Except that I didn’t pay for the gas. Thanks, Brother).

Style: Porter
Brewer: Yards Brewing Company
Origin: Philadelphia, PA
ABV: 7.0%

Written by

Greg Marchilena

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For some beer enthusiasts, the fall season means there will be a heavy amount of Oktoberfest and Pumpkin ales occupying space in their refrigerators, but a the new fresh hopped ale craze has begun to join the fold as well. Fresh-hopped ales are brewed with fresh whole cone hops picked only a few days (or sometime even hours) after harvest. When added to your typical American Pale Ales and IPAs, these ales have a huge and extremely desirable fresh hop aromas. However, if fresh hops cannot be obtained, there is another Homebrewing method to add distinct hop aromas to your beer. That process is called dry-hopping.

• Pre/post-boil volume – 6/5 gal
• O.G. –  1.057
• F.G. – 1.016
• ABV –   5.7%
• IBU – 36.4
• SRM – 6.0

 Grains/ Adjuncts

• 9 lb       Scottish Golden Promise malt 1.7L
• ¾ lb      German Munich malt 8L
• ¾ lb      Canadian Honey malt 25L
• ½ lb      Torrified Wheat malt

Hops

• 0.25 oz Simcoe (13.0%AA) @ 60 min
• 0.25 oz Simcoe (13.0%AA) @ 45 min
• 0.50 oz Magnum (13.1%AA) @ 30 min
• 0.25 oz Citra (11.0%AA) @ 20 min
• 0.25 oz Citra (11.0%AA) @ 5 min
• 1.0 oz Glacier (7.4%AA) Dry-hop
• 0.50 oz Simcoe (13.0%AA) Dry-hop
• 0.50 oz Citra (11.0%AA) Dry-hop

Yeast

• Wyeast 1056 – American Ale

Ferment for 1 – 2 weeks until beer reaches desired finishing gravity. Once fermentation is complete, add dry-hops to carboy for a period of 7-14 days depending on the level of added hop character/aroma desired (sample beer to verify). Rack beer off primary yeast and dry hops and bottle the beer with 3/4 cup of priming/corn sugar.

Grain – Golden Promise (1.7L):  This is the Scottish version of the British malt Marris Otter. It has a distinct sweet yet clean flavor when used as the base malt in a low ABV or “lighter” beer. It’s depth of flavor makes it favorable for US Pale Ales and US/UK IPAs. Because of its low Lovibond (color) compared to British Marris Otter (3L), it can even be used in American interpretations of light European lagers and pilsners. There are even some American brewers, including Surly Brewing in Minnesota  (which has a huge cult following amongst beer geeks) who are turning away from using typical American 2-row pale malt because of the exciting added flavor of Golden Promise malt.

Hops – Citra:  This en vogue domestically grown hop is finding its way into numerous commercial American craft beers. Despite having a high Alpha Acid level, the powerful musky tropical fruit and strong citrus flavors and aromas make this a great middle-to-late addition hop in American IPAs and lighter American Strong Ales. Other flavors and aromas that can detected include peach, apricot, passion fruit, grapefruit, lime, melon, gooseberry, lychee fruit, pineapple, mango and papaya. To sample this hop commercially, look no further than Sierra Nevada’s Torpedo Extra IPA, which should be available at any beer store with a slightly above average selection.

Yeast – Wyeast 1056 – American Ale:  This is arguably the most commonly used Homebrewing yeast available on the commercial market today, and for good reason. Originally harvested from the Sierra Nevada brewery, it is the perfect canvas for brewing almost an American style of beer from Pale Ale all the way up to Imperial Stout and everything in between. It can even be used to produce quality Western European styles like Strong Scotch ales, Irish Red ales or even the “odd” styles like Fruit beers or Spice/Herb beers. The reason why American Ale 1050 is so successful in fermenting many contrary styles is that it has a very clean, crisp flavor profile. These flavor properties help to accentuate the malts and hops, compared to some European yeasts that impart distinct phenols (banana/clove) or esters (fruitiness) that can overshadow your beer’s underlying flavors.

Extra – Dry-hopping:  For the longest time I was fearful of drying-hopping. I’m not sure if it was because I originally wasn’t crazy about extremely hoppy beers or because I was scared of introducing an ingredient into my beer that hadn’t been sterilized. Regardless, dry-hopping was just something I avoided for the first two years I homebrewed. One day I decided to undertake the dubious project and I was greatly rewarded for my efforts. Some may argue that there is no need to dry-hop when you can just add a great deal of hops in the later stages of the boiling process. While you can achieve similar results, there is no doubt that the aroma of a beer that has been dry hopped is more intense. This is because the hops have not undergone the harsh boiling temperatures and thus less oxidation is involved. Also, the aromas imparted by dry hopping are slightly more stable and thus your beer is more likely to smell “fresh” than when just using solely late hop additions. There are various stages and varying methods in which you can dry hop a beer; racking the beer to a secondary container on top of the hops, adding directly to a keg and consuming directly from there after proper conditioning. However, I think is easiest way is straight into the primary fermentation vessel once primary fermentation has slowed down considerably. This will minimize any excess exposure to oxygen which is always dangerous.

The nitty-gritty: Anywhere from 1-3oz of hops is a good starting point for your average hop fanatic, but some go as high as 5 oz. As far as length of time goes, one to two weeks is the typical length of time to allow the hop oils to assert themselves. But one should not overdo it as your beer will take on an undesirable vegetal aroma and flavor after prolonged exposure.

Written by

Christopher LaSpada

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Far from what the title of this new column seems, my husband and I are not brewmasters.  Really, far from it.  We are, however, huge beer lovers and had been dreaming of homebrewing for years.

Who doesn’t?  The moment you decide that you’re going to learn everything there is to know about beer, homebrewing is the obvious next step in any brew lover’s life.  But it’s a big step, homebrewing.  It doesn’t seem like it would be.  But it involves patience, dedication, commitment.  I mean, what if it doesn’t work out?  What if we screw it up?  How would that makes us look to the rest of our beer loving friends?

But like a marriage, you just can’t dive into homebrewing head first. You have to plan, prepare, and make sure that you’re at a stage in your life where you actually have time for homebrewing.  I mean, my husband and I both have busy jobs, I’m trying to build up my writing career, etc, etc.  When speaking of homebrewing, we always asked ourselves, “But are we truly ready?”  As nice as the idea of creating our own beer might be, we shouldn’t create beer just because everyone else is doing it.  Just because it’s the hot trend of the moment doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s right for  us.

So what is this beer lover whining about?  I mean, our very own writers here at Beer Sessions, are experienced homebrewers.  But it is a little bit intimidating. Here’s why:

1. You have to have the money for it. Okay, other homebrewers will argue that you can find these items cheaply at many local stores.  Well, I have to say — I like buying things in a packet. I want to make sure if we take up homebrewing, we got everything we need.  So it took a little while to set aside the funds for the proper kit, which we bought at Brooklyn Homebrew.

2. Space. As any New Yorker will tell you, space is ALWAYS an issue. Not just where you’ll place your brewing equipment, but where you’ll place your bottles and bottles of beer. We had to clear out the writing den/library to transform it into a writing den/library/beer storage room.  Note — I will be spending half my life in this room.

3. We had to stop talking about it and finally do it. My husband and I are great at planning things, but because of our busy lives, we’re not too hot at, well, making sure they happen. (My husband may argue with this point). We had to set aside a free Saturday (trust me, in busy New York, these are precious) and say, damn it, we ARE going to homebrew.  Then we had to take our lazy asses to the store.

So take all these issues and well, combine it with the fact that I am undergoing this task with my husband.  Let’s just say that not only do we both have our stubborn streaks, we have a hard time being both cooks in the kitchen.  So welcome to this married couple’s homebrew adventures.  More to come as we start brewing so tune in!

Written by

Celena Cipriaso

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The last time I found myself in the city of Pittsburgh, PA, it was 2008 and I was there to visit family on what I’m sure would seem like a lame excuse for a vacation. In my effort to escape the crowded, congested, consistently stressful environs of New York City, I ventured by train to the middle-of-nowhere-Pennsylvania where the only evidence of civilization are the occasional hum of the central air conditioner and the rare car passing by some hundreds of yards away down the sort-of paved road.

Much has changed since then and in 2011, I am once again a patron of the Steel City. But a vacation, this is not. I am once again with family, but not for any of the reasons one wants to be reunited with their loved ones. There’s almost a sense of obligation that while I am in the confines of the childhood home of both of my parents, I should seize the opportunity to take home some of the local beers not known outside of the area. To not do so would’ve been a newfound disappointment to the emerging craft beer connoisseur whose life we had convened to honor. As such, this review, and the ones forthcoming, will all be beers local to the Pittsburgh, PA, area. At least until I run out.

A concoction of The Church Brew Works BrewPub in Pittsburgh, PA., Pious Monk Dunkel is an excellent adaptation of the German Dunkel style. Pious Monk pours a deep amber-brown, the way a proper Dunkel should. From here on out, though, things may be a little off.

While there is no stamp on the box (you have to buy beer by the case in Pennsylvania) or “Bottled On” date on the bottle, I suspect these beers may be a tiny bit old. A lack of carbonation and flat, slightly aged taste make the freshness suspect, but do not ruin the beer. The aroma is not at all strong. To get even the slightest inkling of the beer’s olfactory features, I had to almost dip my nose in it. Even then, I really only picked up hints of an iced tea familiarity.

But reader, do not be deterred from trying this beer, for the taste is quite the delight.  An initial sampling offers up a pleasant malt flavor that does not overwhelm, but lasts throughout. Upon further investigation, the malts are balanced well with a flash of hops, contributing a light bitterness to the taste profile. My desire to continue on with this (and several other) bottles is the beer’s simplicity and drinkability. My prior experience with Dunkels, while enjoyable, has always been bold, heavy brews with an overly emphatic maltiness. The Pious Monk is more subtle, lighter and less overwhelming. Coming on on the lower end of the ABV scale, I could easily spend a Sunday with five or six Pious Monks, taking in an afternoon of football without the worry of forgetting who I am rooting for.

Style: Munich Dunkel Style Lager
Brewer: Lawrenceville Brewery, Inc.
Origin: Pittsburgh, PA
ABV: 4.3%

Written by

Greg Marchilena

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