DIY or Buy?

In the chest of every home brewer beats the heart of a hardcore DIY-er.

I believe this to be true even in the age of blinged out, fully automated, shiny turn-key systems manufactured for and specifically marketed to the home brewer.  As, not one, but multiple manufacturers have built a business around this, there obviously must be a market for these systems.  Somebody has to be buying them.

I definitely understand the Red-Ryder-B-B-Gun-with-a-Compass-in-the-Stock allure that these systems hold.  I feel it too.  Yet there is a certain satisfaction gained from building your own system from pieces of stuff that may or may not have ever been intended for the purpose you're giving them, and from constantly evolving it with new or replacement pieces solving one problem or another.  That satisfaction is surely traded away by those home brewers choosing the turn-key option.  Right?

I mean the very act of home brewing is the essence of DIY.  It is equal parts science, craft, and art; and it's a true labor of love.  What could be better than drinking a beer that you made with your own two hands?  Well... maybe knowing that you produced that beer (with your own two hands) on a system you hobbled together (with your own two hands) over 15 years out of pieces of stuff that were never intended for the purpose you've given them and combined with other pieces of stuff that were also not designed for the purpose you're giving them.  That, or having a shiny blinged out mini version of a commercial brewery in the basement of your home.  Either one.

It's time for me to come clean on one thing.  I am not handy around the house.  Ask my wife and she will happily confirm that I am the farthest from.  Toilets run, doors creak, and light bulbs remain burnt out far too long as she gently nudges me with reminders that I should really take care of that.  She is eternally patient.

Mash and sparge, circa 2013

Yet, when it comes to my brew rig, I seem to be tinkering constantly and tweaking it to solve one problem or another.  It began its life as a B3-200 basic all-grain system from Beer Beer and More Beer, circa 2003.  This is the basic "two re-purposed Igloo coolers retrofitted with thermometers" deal, and back then the only alternative to Doing-It-Yourself.  I think I spent about $500 on that combined with a hand-fabricated 15 gallon stainless kettle, a Bayou Classic burner, a copper immersion chiller and some extra tubing to tie it all together.  That rig operated in its original configuration for a good eight years before a single modification was made (I barely disassembled any of the parts- see previous paragraph for the reason).

Boil and knock-out, circa 2013

(See this post from 2013 for a run-down of the system at that time.)











Eventually, a better valve was added to the kettle, plastic fittings were upgraded to stainless, and in 2013 I gave the entire system its biggest overhaul to date- adding a counterflow chiller, Blichmann burner w 24" leg extensions, punching holes in the kettle for thermometer and (DIY) whirlpool attachment, modifying the mash tun for sparging with the lid on, and replacing all the vinyl tubing with high-temp silicone tubing with quick-disconnect fittings.  Later, I built a two-tier stand out of builder's grade 2x4s, replaced the Igloo HLT with an 8 gallon Bayou Classic kettle and second burner.  The ghost of that original B3-200 still remains, I guess, in the original Igloo shell of my mash tun and that 15 gallon Boil Kettle.  That BK I think will last forever, but I'm afraid the mash tun may be at the end of its days.

Along the way there have been many other little tweaks, additions, and upgrades.  I won't list them all here, as I'm sure I can't remember all of them, but this janky Frankenstein's monster of a brew rig works pretty well for me right now.  It's not perfect; it's an obnoxious eye-sore on the patio that my wife can't stand, but at least it's capable of producing beer that comes close to palatable.  And I enjoy it.  What more could I ask?

Brew rig circa 2018

Building sparge water in the HLT

Whirlpool cooling

Point/ Counterpoint

A random text this morning from my sister reminded me of this long-forgotten blog, and I opened it on my phone to discover it's been three years since my last post.  Three years.

Not sure if there are Chapters to the gradually evolving story of my homebrewing adventures, but if there are, I have no doubt begun a new one or two since my last post.

Much has changed in three years.  Most importantly perhaps the fact that my beer continues to edge ever closer to actually being palatable.  No less significant, though, is the name change.

When I first named my home brewery back in 2012, the name "Serendipity Brews" was very expressive of the point I was at in my homebrew journey, as well as the journey itself up to that point.

By 2017, it seemed less fitting, and I decided a change was needed.  After a good bit of word-play and consideration, I finally settled on "Counterpoint Brewing and Blending."  For reasons that are of course my own, every component of the new name says exactly what I want it to say about my brewing approach, philosophy and methodology.  For reasons that are as well my own, this post will not spell it all out.  Hopefully it will be revealed over future posts, but to fully articulate that meaning here would be to risk sounding trite, pedantic, and insincere.

I'm looking forward very much to getting back into this blog.  Who knows what topics I may explore in future posts.

For now, the name of the blog remains "Serendipity Brews."  This phrase still has meaning and relevance, even if it's no longer quite right for the brewery itself.

Water

My water program, like all aspects of my brewing, has evolved over time.

When I first started brewing extract batches in 2001, the only thought I gave to water was how much I would need for the beer I was making.  The water came straight from the tap, with an unknown mineral profile, organic content, and that hint of chlorine aroma so characteristic of municipal water supplies.  It didn't matter.  The beer I was making in those days was no better or worse for the water that went into it.

As time went on and I began to slowly improve my understanding of the craft, I switched to bottled spring water.  I imagine this is the next logical step for many homebrewers.  Once a brewer has worked out the most glaring defects (kettle caramelization, diacetyl, fusel alcohols and oxidation come to mind when reflecting back on my earliest batches), the off-flavors contributed by tap water become more obvious.  Bottled spring water, or even carbon filtered tap water, can be a viable solution to the problem.  In fact, this solution can probably serve a homebrewer well for many years.

However, there is more to consider about water than simply whether it tastes good.  Most brewers at some point discover than the mineral profile of their water effects the finished beer on many levels.  Mash pH is critical.  Residual alkalinity influences mash pH.  Water hardness can drive residual alkalinity down.  A high enough percentage of roasted malts in the grain bill can act against RA.  The right amount of sodium can accentuate flavors in beer.  Sulfite to chloride ratio influences how the hops are presented--the right ratio, and hop aroma and flavor will really pop; the wrong ratio and they will be dull and muddled.

When I first started treating my water about two years ago, I kept it very simple.  With absolutely no understanding of water chemistry, I found the nudge I needed in a "Water Chemistry Primer" thread on Homebrewtalk.  Never feeling the need to go past the first post, I followed the "baseline" recipe for building up distilled water.  For  several batches, I started with distilled water, adding (for every 5 gallons) one teaspoon of calcium chloride and subbing 3% of the base malt with acid malt.  For hoppier beers I also added 1 tsp of gypsum, and for darker malt bills, I skipped the acid malt.  I did this without really knowing why.  I did this because that's what it said to do.  It's a clumsy and rudimentary water treatment, but it was at least enough to keep mash pH in check, and I felt a sense of control knowing what was in my water.

I have since begun using the bru'n water spreadsheet for planning my mineral additions.  Bru'n water did a really nice job for me of clearly and succinctly explaining the key aspects of brewing water chemistry on the page titled "Water Knowledge."  In a few paragraphs, it tackles the topics of water source, mash pH, water hardness, alkalinity, residual alkalinity, and mineral content, and explains how these factors affect one another.  

This is a great tool for designing a water profile, and even has a number of pre-programmed profiles that a brewer can choose.  Profiles included range from generalized beer profiles (yellow malty, yellow balanced, yellow hoppy and their amber, brown and black counterparts) to significant geographies (Burton-on-Trent, Pilsen, and West Flanders as examples).

At this point, I am still using distilled water (nothing in this water but water); its kind of like starting with a blank canvas and building an exact profile from there.  It's not completely necessary.  My tap water is probably just fine- if I ran it through a carbon filter, and if I knew its mineral content, I could enter its profile into the spreadsheet and adjust from there. Not much standing in my way.  I could buy a filter, and I could send my filtered water off to be analyzed.  Depending on the mineral content of my tap water, this would make life easier as I would not have to lug gallons of distilled water from the store to the house.  My plan is to take this next step once my new brew rig is built.

My water kit:  bru'n water, a 0.1g scale, and minerals.
Not pictured:  acidulated malt, used to adjust mash pH.

My water treatment kit includes a small digital scale which displays weights in tenths of a gram, and several minerals:  Gypsum (Calcium Sulfate), Epsom Salt (Magnesium Sulfate), non-iodized table salt (Sodium Chloride), Baking Soda (Sodium Bicarbonate), Calcium Chloride, Chalk (Calcium Bicarbonate), and Magnesium Chloride.  Gypsum and Calcium Chloride are used most heavily- they are used in virtually every water profile, and usually in the highest amounts.  The Bicarbonates (Chalk and Baking Soda) are used the least often, and in very slight amounts.

I am still at the beginner level in regard to my knowledge and understanding of water chemistry.  I know that I have only just scratched the surface.  As in so many other aspects in brewing, reps will be the key to truly discovering and understanding what yields the best results.  There are of course also other resources available to help me understand why.  I'm fairly happy with the results I'm currently getting, so I do have time on my side.

Fast Souring with Lactobacillus

About three weeks ago I brewed a Brown Ale without any hops in the boil, then pitched a starter of Lactobacillus Plantarum into primary and allowed it to sour for 48 hours before adding yeast.  The idea is to have a quick-turnaround (a few weeks instead of months or even years) sour beer.

Apparently this is a thing now.  I had suspected that most of Pizza Boy's draft sours were made this way, and I tried a sour brown at Troegs' tasting room over the summer that used this technique.  It's not a new technique; this has been a popular way of brewing Berliner Weisse and Gose on both a homebrewing and commercial scale for years.  But as far as applying the technique to other grain bills (bigger, darker, less wheat, no wheat), I thought I was onto something new and have been wanting to experiment with the technique for some time.  I guess I need to read more, or pay better attention, or pick up on the obvious cues around me because I now realize that there are breweries all over the country who have been doing this for several years, and every week it seems another commercial brewery is releasing one of these quick sours.

This technique is a departure from the more traditional methods of producing mixed-fermentation "sour" beer in that the lactic acid producing bacteria (in this case Lactobacillus) are allowed access to the wort sugars prior to the introduction of the primary fermenter (Saccharomyces or Brettanomyces yeast).  When done correctly, it seems to produce a cleaner, simpler, more straight-forward sour beer than older, more traditional methods.  Beers produced this way tend to range from refreshingly tart and sessionable to puckeringly sour, although lacking the subtle, nuanced complexity of beers that are soured slowly over time by multiple souring organisms.

There are a few reasons a brewer may decide to use this technique, possibly the best among them simply that the brewer wants a light, refreshing, crushable session sour in their lineup.  Or, maybe the brewer wants to avoid the risk of contamination/ infection in their fermentation equipment--a great feature of this technique is that the wort can be soured in the kettle, then boiled (killing off the Lactobacillus), and fermented as normal with "clean" Saccharomyces.  Maybe a commercial brewer is just looking for a quick way of jumping in on the bandwagon, adding a sour beer to their portfolio without an excessive investment of time or fermenter space.  Or, in the case of a homebrewer like myself, it may seem like an easy entry into the world of sour beer making.

Let's rewind back to three weeks prior to my Brown Ale brew day.  Back to my first attempt with this technique--a Berliner Weisse.  Following the instructions on  the milk the funk dot com wiki, I made a 1.032 wort from equal parts floor malted Pilsner and wheat malts.  I did not boil the wort.  I did not add any hops.  I simply ran off into the kettle, heated and held the wort at 170 for 15 minutes to pasteurize, then knocked out at 95 degrees into carboys and pitched a starter of Omega Labs Lacto Blend (L. Plantarum and L. Brevis).  Easiest brew day I have ever had.  After two days in primary, the pH of the beer was down to 3.5, and I added a giant starter of White Labs Saccharomyces "Brett-like" Trois.  Two weeks later, the beer was down to a stable final gravity of 1.005, and after three weeks in primary, I bottled half and split the other half into carboys to dry hop (half on Amarillo, half on Galaxy).

Berliner Weisse:  That gorgeous hazy pale
hue comes mainly from the starchy character of
the wheat, preserved by this no-boil method

There are three points at which a brewer can choose to quick sour with lacto prior to primary fermentation:  the mash tun, the kettle, and the fermenter.  Mash souring is believed to be the historical means of producing Berliner Weisse and Gose.  Originally it likely occurred spontaneously, or "magically" as the wort chilled, traveling through the ideal Lacto temperature range over time.  Modern brewers can emulate this process by mashing normally, then cooling their mash to around 120, and adding either a pure lab culture of Lactobacillus, or a handful of unmilled grains, which naturally contain enough Lactobacillus cells on their husks to take hold and sour the mash.  Last year I made two Berliner Weisse batches using this technique.  After 48 hours the mash was pleasantly tart with no off aromas; I ran a two-step decoction to raise it to mashout temp, ran off into the kettle, boiled and proceeded as a normal clean primary fermentation.  It was fun and rewarding to be able to get the souring without adding any cultured micro-organisms, but now that I've done it, I don't feel the need to repeat it when there are other more straight-forward options.

Kettle souring is such a popular approach that I'm growing tired of hearing about it.  The reason for its popularity, as mentioned above, is that the brewer can boil the wort once the desired sourness is reached, then proceed with what is just another clean primary fermentation, thus mitigating the risk of infecting cold-side equipment.  The brewer simply mashes as normal, runs off into the kettle as normal, cools to 110-120 (or lower depending on Lacto strain) and pitches the Lacto.  After 24-48 hours, the wort is boiled and the process continues as normal.

Whether souring in primary, kettle, or mash tun, the key to doing it well is temperature control and oxygen control.  Most of the commercially available Lactobacillus strains have an ideal temperature range in the 100-120 Fahrenheit range.  Pitch above 120 and most if not all of your cells will die before the temp drops below 120.  Pitch at or below 100 and you won't get the cell growth you need for a good quick souring--not only missing desired Lacto fermentation character, but worse, likely picking up nasty off character since the wort pH did not drop low enough quickly enough to prevent spoilage microbes from taking hold.  The wort may develop a vomit or diaper aroma as a result.  Oxygen is also the enemy of Lactobacillus fermentation.  It is a very good practice to purge the vessel (fermenter, kettle, or headspace of mashtun) with co2 prior to adding any Lacto.  Too much oxygen exposure over enough time will allow your Lacto to produce ethyl acetate, lending a nail polish remover or varnish aroma to the wort or beer.

So, what about this Sour Brown that I brewed?  Well, in anticipation of this beer, I held back about 200mL of the Lacto Blend from the starter I had made for the Berliner.  My intention was to follow the same process with my Sour Brown as I had with the Berliner.  I would make a starter from the reserved Lacto, and I would ferment the Brown with fresh Trois harvested from the Berliner fermentation.  Unfortunately, when I opened the reserved Lacto slurry to pour it into the new starter, I was assaulted by the smell of nail polish remover.  I had failed to limit oxygen exposure, carelessly just covering the beaker with aluminum foil!  The slurry had to be dumped, and I had no pure Lacto left in the house.

In a pinch (and following a suggestion again found on milk the funk dot com), I ran out to the grocery store and picked up some Goodbelly probiotic shots.  These are 2oz liquid shots that are meant to be probiotic supplements; the probiotic in this case:  Lactobacillus Plantarum!  A characteristic that makes this strain unique is that its ideal range is 90-100 degrees, which makes if very effective in the human gut, which is also why I pitched it at 95 rather than the 100-120 earlier discussed.  I made a 1.5L starter and added the probiotic shot.  Two days later, I made the Brown Ale wort (this one, unlike the Berliner, did get a 60 minute boil) and the entire starter went in.  Two days after that, I transferred 5 gallons of my Berliner onto dry hops, pulled a healthy slurry off the fresh Lacto/ Trois cake and added it to the Brown Ale.  This weekend, I will bottle half the batch and rack the other half to a smaller carboy with Omega Labs Brett Blend.  Once the Brett takes hold, I will add Pinot Noir juice, and later down the road, Pinot Noir soaked oak cubes.  I can't wait to see how this turns out!

To Blathe:  the no-Brett, no-fruit, no-oak version.  2 gallons  were bottled after a stable final gravity was reached with Trois.
The other half of the batch was then transferred onto Brett, later to get cherries and Pinot Noir soaked oak cubes.

Now that I have a couple of sour fermentations under my belt using this technique, it seems time to get some more long-term mixed culture projects going.  I hope in the coming weeks to fill a few carboys which will go down for extended fermentation and aging over the long winter months.  First up will be 12 gallons of Golden Sour, which will get a very high mash temp, be primary fermented with a Saccharomyces strain, then inoculated with assorted bugs.  Five gallons will get Wyeast Roselaire (a blend of several strains of Brett, Lacto, and Pediococcus); the other half will be split among 1-gallon jugs and individually inoculated with dregs of various commercial beers (Jolly Pumpkin, Sante Adarius, OEC, Tilquin, and Crooked Stave probably).

Though there are multiple techniques out there, the fundamental consideration in all mixed-culture fermentation is how to give the souring bacteria and Brett access to enough wort sugars.  Saccharomyces will out-compete the other micro-organisms in an environment rich in simple sugars (which all can consume).  In a highly fermentable wort, Sacc may leave virtually nothing for the other microbes to work with.  The classic way of dealing with this was to produce a highly unfermentable wort (either with turbid mashing or high mash temps), so that there would be plenty of complex chain sugars left for the souring microbes to work with after the Saccharomyces yeast had consumed all the simple sugars.  These are not as easy for the microbes to break down, but they work long and slow at it over time.  It is this slow metabolism over time that adds great complexity to the beer, especially when Pedio is involved.

With this "more modern," fast souring method, a more highly fermentable wort can be produced (easier to consume, faster souring) because the souring microbes are given a chance prior to adding the competitively-advantaged yeast.  

There are also other methods, in between these two extremes, but no one method is really a substitute for another.  That's the beauty of different methods; they each will produce a unique result.  The brewer will best serve himself by selecting the method that will yield the result he is targeting in a given beer.  I am looking forward to trying them all.

Mash Mouth- Brewing Chicha at Home

How far down the rabbit hole do you want to go?

For many home brewers--as for many craft beer enthusiasts--that question can probably be answered with something like:  "Not sure, but what's next?"

About six or seven years ago, when I was about at the height of my Dogfish Head fandom and of my enthusiasm for the Ancient Ales concept, these "Off-Centered" brewers released Chicha at their Rehoboth Brewpub.  They didn't invent and don't own the style of course.  The style is over 7000 years old.  Dogfish Head is just the first commercial brewery (to my knowledge) with the balls to produce it and expect people to pay money for it.  It was billed as yet another entry in their Ancient Ales lineup, and I just had to try it.

Fortunately, that summer and the following, I just happened to be in Rehoboth on vacation with my family during the week Chicha was tapped.  It was slightly different each of those two years, but as I recall it was hazy, very pale, and very light in body; I don't remember anything about the flavor or aroma of the beer.  One year it was more pink in color than the other--maybe from the addition of strawberries that year.  I was able to get my dad and brother-in-law both to try it that first year (didn't tell the BIL what it was until it was down his gullet--he was disgusted, and he elected not to order it in year two).

If you don't know, now you know that there is something about Chicha that can be off-putting to anyone without the strongest of inner-Andrew-Zimmerns.  There are many variations of this fermented beverage, but the defining factor of all Chicha is that the starches are converted, not by the amylase enzymes modern brewers are so familiar with, but by an enzyme called ptyalin.  This enzyme is found in human saliva, and conversion happens not in the mash tun, but in the brewer's own mouth.

So, how far down the rabbit hole do you want to go?

You don't get there all at once.  It happens slowly, in small steps, as at each step you push your limits just a bit more.  Once you're making your own beer, it's not long until you look for other fermented beverages you can make--maybe cider, maybe mead.  It's also not long until your interest strays beyond "clean" beers to those fermented with wild yeasts, and even bacteria.  Commercially bought lab cultures make way for colonies of brettanomyces, lactobacillus, and pediococcus that you grew yourself from bottle dregs of your favorite sour funky beers.  Why stop there?  Maybe you try your hand at a sour mashed Berliner style Weisse or a Gose, innoculated not with a commercial culture, not with bottle dregs, but with the Lactobacillus resident on the grain itself.  And now, suddenly, using your own mouth as a mash tun doesn't seem so far fetched, especially when the American Homebrewers Association publishes a recipe.  You're even thinking you might share some bottles of this beer, a primary ingredient of which has been in your mouth prior to hitting the kettle, with your closest loved ones.

And so, I sat down one rainy Saturday in June, and set myself to the task of chewing salivating on mashing one full pound of coarse ground blue corn meal to be made into my own home brewed Chicha.

Did the Incas have a word for mise en place?
I don't know but here are sweet and sour cherries,
fresh ginger root, and 1 lb corn meal that will
go into the making of the beer

The moment I put the first bit of corn meal in my mouth, I wondered if this was a good idea.  Certainly it wasn't going to produce anything better than what I can make by other means not involving mouthfuls of corn meal.  Indeed, the two examples I'd had in the past were not memorable.  Not that they were bad.  They were not bad.  Just maybe not special enough to warrant this process.  The value in tasting the drink in the first place, was not really in its quality, but in the novelty of the experience.  Living History.  Connection to the past and all that.

By the time I was halfway through the pound of corn meal, I found myself suppressing my natural gag reflex and had to begin taking breaks to rinse out my mouth, drink water, etc.  The process proved much less neat and tidy than the AHA article made it seem.  The way the article read (at least in my mind), I would simply dampen a bit of corn with water, roll it into a small ball, then neatly roll it around in my mouth to saturate, and repeat.  Not at all how this went down.

By the time I was through the entire pound of corn meal, I had purple puddles on the table, purple streaks down my white shirt, and I was questioning why I had ever gotten into brewing in the first place.  I had cut the recipe in half, planning enough to fill a one gallon jug, and that turned out to be the best decision of the day.  I would not have been able to bear one more mouthful of that stuff.  The Chicha Mouth Mash was a pretty miserable experience, but it was completely inevitable to satisfy my sick intellectual curiosity.  I knew it was inevitable the moment I saw the recipe in print.

Muko, the tiny balls of saliva soaked blue corn meal.
Now they air dry overnight before being boiled with
the rest of the ingredients.

The muko sat overnight with the hope that it would air dry.  By Sunday morning it was still not completely dry, but I moved forward with the next step.  There are a few helpful details left out of the recipe; how long it takes for the muko to dry is one of them.

The next step is to combine all the fermentables and flavor adjuncts.  It's not a long list:

1. The "dried" muko "balls"
2. an additional 1/2 pound of unmodified corn meal
3. 6 oz of washed and pitted fresh cherries (equal mix of sweet to sour)
4. some rough chopped ginger root

Add caption

Cherries and ginger may not be traditional or indigenous to South America, from where Chicha originates, but they sounded good.  Cherries are in season so I picked them up at an orchard 12 miles from my house, and ginger is delicious.

Next, I stirred the above ingredients with one and half gallons spring water that had been heated to 148.

Between the blue corn and the sweet cherries, this is the most
colorful wort I've ever seen.  Hopefully it will retain some of
that color in the finished product.

To be completely accurate, I would think this is the actual step where conversion happens.  In other words, this is the step where the enzymes break down the complex starches of the corn into simpler sugars that can later be consumed by the yeast.  The chewing step was likely more accurately called the modification step, where the enzymes are developed (in this case added) to the grains.  In a more traditional brewing scenario, this would happen in the malthouse, where the grains are germinated and dried (malted), developing amylase enzymes on their husks.  Those enzymes are activated roughly in the range of 145 to 165 degrees farenheit, which is why we mash in that range.  Obviously the ptyalin enzyme is activated at 98.6, but it must be active at much higher temperatures as well, since 150 is not hot enough to denature the enzyme.  Surely some conversion occurred in the mouth- that's part of what happens to all food in our mouths- but most probably occurred in this kettle step.

Now, per the recipe instructions, we allow the mixture to cool on its own.

Once cooled to room temperature, the layer of purple liquid (upi) was carefully ladled off the top until a thin grayish gelatinous layer (misqui kketa) is revealed.  That layer is scooped into a small saucepan and heated until darkened.  Once darkened,the misqui kketa is stirred back into the upi and the entire concoction undergoes a 60 minute boil.

Misqui Kketa- a very thin layer; it was difficult
to scrape this layer off without also picking up
some cornmeal from the layer beneath.

From the boil step forward, the process looks like any other batch of beer.  Chill, transfer to fermenter, pitch yeast, and allow to ferment.

Pitched a large slurry of gen 4 1056 off an APA
 that I kegged the same day.

I'll know in a few weeks whether this was worth the trouble.

DIY Hop Spider

A hop spider is one of the easier DIY projects I've come across in home brewing.  It only requires about 15 minutes of your time and a few parts that can be picked up at the local home improvement super center.

I made a hop spider last year, and it immediately made a huge difference for me.  Hop utilization became obviously better while at the same time less hop matter made it to the bottom of my kettle or into the fermenter.

The purpose of this device is to give the effect of having free floating hops in the kettle, lots of contact between the hops and the boiling wort, while keeping the hops contained so that they can easily be removed.  You get the benefit associated with using a hop bag, combined with the benefit of dumping loose hops directly into the boil.

This idea, of course, was not original.  I found the idea/ design on the internet- probably HBT but I'm not sure.

My first iteration, which I used for several batches up to a few weeks ago, did have some minor design flaws.  So when I neglected it in a rotting pile of spent grains after brewing my Nelson Cream Ale, I threw it away (rather than try to clean it), and seized the opportunity for a hop spider redux.

Hop Spider 1.0.  Got the job done, but was clumsy and awkward.

As much as this first version improved my process and final beer, it wasn't perfect.  The main flaw was that it sat very close to the surface of the boiling wort.  So close that, as seen above, the temperature was enough to soften the pvc.  It also didn't help that the "legs." while secure, were loosely mounted; they moved around too much.  On one brew day, the legs collapsed, causing the entire device to drop into the boil.  Ugh.

So, for version 2.0, my top priority was to raise the main body of the spider away from the rim of the kettle.  Secondly, it was important to secure the legs firmly to the body.

The parts list for this build is fairly simple:

1. (1) 6" x 4" pvc adapter coupling
2. (1) 4" hose clamp
3. (3) 3/8" diameter 10" length hex bolts (zinc coated, but would like to replace w stainless steel)
4. (6) 3/8" hex nuts
5. (3) flat washers
6. (1) 5 gallon paint strainer bag

The upgrades over version 1.0 are:

•  Upsizing the pvc coupling.  The 6x4 provides a wider mouth, easier for pouring hops into, as well as a thicker wall versus the 4x3 on 1.0.
• Adding a nut and washer on the outside onto each bolt.  Additionally, I used a 5/16" drill bit this time, requiring the 3/8" bolts to be threaded tightly through the hole in the pvc wall.
• Mounting the legs through the angled section of the pvc coupling.

Here's the build:

1.  Using 5/16" bit, drill three holes (evenly spaced) into angled section of pvc coupling.
2.  Thread one nut onto each bolt, then place one washer on each.

3.  Now carefully thread each bolt into one of the drilled holes in pvc coupler.  For me, this required 

     the use of a wrench.  Also, a beer.  Go through the wall just enough to be able to add a nut on the 

     other side (inside the coupling).

4.  Thread one nut onto the end of each bolt on the inside of the coupling.  Tighten all six nuts with 

     wrench.

5.  Using the hose clamp, secure the paint strainer bag to the 4" end of the pvc coupling.

6.  You're now finished making your hop spider.  Now use it.

Packaging Update- The Journey Continues

About a year ago, I published a post, in which I swore off kegging until I have a proper means of dispensing from kegs (ie kegerator or keezer, something with pretty chrome faucets and concealed kegs).

In spite of the fact that this condition has not yet been met, I suddenly find myself kegging again.

Eleven days ago, I transferred ten gallons of my Hoppy Oatmeal Blonde Ale (Forty, brewed in honor of my sister's upcoming birthday) into kegs for dry hopping.  And last Sunday, I removed the dry hops and connected the CO2 to force carbonate it.

No, I will not be connecting any picnic taps for filling glasses from these kegs.  That is something that hasn't changed for me.  I am kegging for a different reason.

The point here is, as previously asserted, packaging my homebrews truly is a journey of iterations.  This latest iteration--force carbing, then bottling the entire batch off the keg--is just that:  merely the latest, not the final, iteration.

Who knows when this journey ends; or even if it does.  I think I know.  I have a vision; know what my ideal is.  But that may change once I get to where I think "there" is.  Once I get there, I may discover, want or need a different way.  In which case, the journey will continue.

Bottling Forty with the beer gun.  Couldn't have been easier.

So what about this current iteration?  Why keg, just to bottle?

Well, multiple reasons.

First, the reasons I swore off kegging in the first place . . .  Those number just two:

1. No proper means of dispensing.  Picnic taps work just fine, but that process was cumbersome.  My wife hated.  Hated.  Opening our basement fridge and seeing kegs, CO2 bottle, regulator and hoses staring at her where shelves and drawers should be.  I can't blame her.  I didn't like it either.
2. No bottles of beer to share.  I like sharing my beer.  I want to share it.  I tried a DIY bottle filler made from a racking cane and drilled stopper.  Either I didn't have the right technique, or I didn't have the requisite patience, or maybe like the size of Paul Bunyon's Ox, claims of the design's effectiveness were just more than reality could bear out.

After bottle conditioning a few batches, I was reminded of some limitations of bottle conditioning.  Well, mainly one.  There was the issue of bottle variation in carb level, but that's easily mitigated by a gentle stir in the bottling bucket with a sanitized long handled spoon.  What I'm really talking about is hoppy beers.  Bottle conditioned hoppy beers just aren't the same as their force carbed counterparts.  I noticed it with last year's Simcoemech.  Didn't get that full facial assault of hops that I was expecting from such a back-end heavy hopping schedule--a dilema in stark contrast to what I had become used to in kegs.  With Simcoemech, the aroma was there in the bottling bucket, but not in the bottle.  Why?  I guess, for the same reason we don't dry hop in primary, but rather rack the beer off the yeast cake first.  Something about the metabolic activity of yeast destroys the delicate volatile aromatic compounds, leaving hop aromas muted and muddled.  Reading similar complaints from others helped to light the lightbulb in my brain as I finally made this connection.

Forty is too important a beer to take this risk.  It's for my hophead sister's fortieth birthday.  This Beer.  Must.  Be.  Hoppy. To that end, I finally picked up the Blichmann Beer Gun, which I've had my eye on for a while.  And on Friday, I bottled two 40 oz bottles and two six packs off the keg.  It was as easy as, if not easier than, using a bottling bucket and wand.  The 40's were served last night with dinner and they were perfect.  Perfect carbonation level and amazing bright pungent hop aroma.

The idea is that I will keg most of my clean beers (those fermented only with saccharomyces, no brett or bacteria), force carb, and batch bottle off the keg.  This lends naturally to dry hopping in the keg.

This also helps me to maintain separate equipment for clean and sour/ funky beers (for the most part).  If most of my clean beers are being finished, force carbed, and bottled from the keg, then the bottling bucket and wand become obsolete for those beers.  Which leaves these pieces of equipment for sour/ funky beers.  "Clean" saisons and Belgian styles would be the only styles left to bottle condition, and these would be the only exceptions to share "infected" equipment.

Sour Bottles:  Bottling Maggie Depeche with bottling bucket

I will bottle the rest of the batch of Forty within the next few days.  The Beer Gun is so easy and effective; I only wish I'd made the investment sooner.  In addition to the advantages already mentioned, there is less risk of oxidation in the transfer from fermenter to bottling vessel, from bottling vessel to bottles.  The keg is easily purged with co2 prior to transfer, and the beer gun is designed to do the same to the bottle.  The bottle is purged with co2 directly prior to filling with beer, and then a final blast of co2 is administered to the filled bottle to displace any air that may have entered while withdrawing the gun.  Really loving this setup.  Solid equipment profile and bottling process that should serve me well into the future.