…both since I wrote on the brew blog (or any other blog for that matter), and since we put some beer down. It took several months after my daughter Coraline was born for us to get back into the brewing routine, and when we did the beer languished in secondary for a really long time.
Brewing can be a nerve-wracking endeavour when you’re starting out. Here’s a story from our first batch, since dubbed “Passable Porter.”
We did the brew on Saturday. Happy little newbies that we were, we thought we’d done a pretty well. No major screw-ups, nothing spilled or contaminated.
We shuttled the bucket off to the utility room, uncertain of whether it would make a serious mess or smell bad (it was our first batch–brews have since moved inside). Since the inception of the brewing plans, that room had been the intended home for our beer. But one thing we hadn’t thought through was the temperature. It was actually quite a bit colder there in October than might have been good. Regardless, we set the bucket there, and by Sunday the yeast had taken off. Oh the joy of hearing that burbling!
Monday rolled around, and I headed in to work. It was a normal day until the phone rang. My wife had called to tell me that the beer had gone silent. Not slowing like we’d expected, but a dead stop already.
Panic! I remembered reading about beer perking away for days, sometimes even weeks. What could have happened? I immediately suspected the utility room was at fault. It had gotten awfully cold overnight. That must have killed the yeast. I forgot entirely that some yeasts can even be frozen without harm. I was certain the cold had brought our fermentation to a premature end.
What a terrible afternoon. The joy of completing our first successful brew turned sour in my mouth. I fretted about it until I got off work, and finally broke down and called the folks at Main Street.
Turns out that it isn’t unusual for a batch to only go for a day, especially with the type of dry yeast we were using. We moved the porter to the secondary, bottled and eventually sampled. It wasn’t perfect–merely passable–but despite my nervousness, the yeast had not died.