Dandelion Wine

“Just the yellow stuff. No green.”

That’s what the dude was emphatic about, and I could see his point. I took notes on his process, because this stuff was tasty. Yes, one day I would have a yard full of the weeds, and I would do something good with them. Dandelion wine.

Well, one day has arrived, and after a long, cold winter, I’ve got hops in the ground and a green lawn with yellow polka dots. It’s time to get that flowery concoction started.

Basically, his instructions were four cups of dandelion heads and zest of one orange per gallon. Steep overnight before adding sugar and yeast, blah, blah.

The hard part is getting four cups per gallon. I think. Now I’m not sure. Did he mean pick four cups’ worth of heads, then dig out the yellow, or did he mean four cups of yellow stuff? With a sunburn and stained but fragrant fingers, I made an executive decision that what I had was the right amount. I took it to mean four cups of the yellow loveliness. The problem was that they just kept weighting themselves down in the bowl. I was stuck at two cups for 45 minutes. Was that a fluffy or packed four cups per gallon?

Originally, I was going to do five gallons. Half straight-up, and half with an additional pound or two of honey, and a blast of saffron.

Speaking of saffron, I can see why it’s so expensive, after my day with dandelions.

In any case, I settled in on two and a half gallons. It’s steeping now. Tonight, I’ll add five pounds of sugar and remove my hop, er, dandelion sack. And then I’ll wait…

Beeralicious day of nostalgia

“The first step of the cure is…a kiss.”

–Gene Simmons

It’s been a bloody good day.

I’m on the tail end of brewing my Ceremony Abbey Ale and am soaked in good nostalgia. For one, I haven’t brewed in a while. My last two batches were 10 gallons each and as your math skills might deduce, they’ve lasted twice as long as a fiver. So I’m happy about the variety that this day will bring me in a few weeks, all the more since I intend to double barrel half of this batch (bourbon and red wine).

This beer gets me nostalgic because I’ve got raisins in the fermenter and I can just taste Raison D’Etre (the thing I want out of life) in my head–I haven’t had that Dogfish Head elixir since I left Raleigh nearly a year ago. Been craving it lately. Calling Dr. Love…

The Raleigh thing is a little nostalgic as I’ve spent part of this brew day reading the tale of My Life on Craft’s tour de South. It’s been torture reading Mary’s adventures in some of my old stomping grounds (World Beer Fest, Flying Saucer, The Tavern, Raleigh Times, Jack of the Wood, Sam’s to name a few) and my old beers (Duck-Rabbit, Big Boss, Carolina Brewery, Foothills and Green Man to name a few). All those photos bring my only cringe of the day, as my camera recently hit the pavement.

Can I have a beer blog without a camera? Not a very good one. Can I presently afford a new camera? Not really. To remedy this situation, won’t you please send brewvana an email addressed to Wonderful Beer Wife asking her to help keep brewvana vibrant by buying me a new camera. If we are flooded with pleas, she’ll think I’m famous and important, and break down. I’m just sure of it.

This whole camera thing is made easier to bear today, because this entire brew day has been awash in the crackle of vinyl. My awesome Uncle Jake gave me his turn table, replacing this too-long hole in my heart. It has been Kiss’ Rock and Roll Over–over and over and over again–all day long. This is a big time sentimental album for me. It’s the first I ever owned–I got it for Christmas when I was six years old. My grandma still has a picture of me opening it. No one can air guitar this album like I can–they don’t know where the skips are. (It’s funny how not hearing something for a decade doesn’t matter; I’ve nailed every lick and every skip all day long.)

Great day. Great day. I may even fire up a batch of dandelion wine a little later.

You’re such a jewel in the rough,

Wilson

Thirsty Thursday–Shoot to Thrill

Just last week I was going on about the particularly aggressive winter we’re enjoying. And wouldn’t you know it, this week I get to talk about another nuance of a Midwestern Winter: the part about the huge temperature variation.

One day it’s zero, and the next day it’s 50 degrees. One day it’s dull brown, and the next day it’s a foot and a half of snow. Then it melts and the back roads are a muddy mess. Then it’s colder than a well digger’s ass in the Klondike for two weeks straight.

Then it’s today. Sixty degrees, sunshine and the first day with the windows down and “Shoot to Thrill” blaring over the stereo. “Back in Black.” “You Shook Me All Night Long.” Ahhh, memories!

I accompanied that pleasure with my homebrewed bock. Life is good.

Have a drink on me,

Wilson

Grandma Beach’s idea of cough syrup

I’ve been dodging my boys’ bullets for the last week, but finally I’ve succumbed to a cold.

I’ve got all this beer lying around; how could I not have something with a cure involved? So I’ve got my wife’s great-grandma in mind today. Here’s her recipe for cough syrup. I take it like NyQuil, and sleep well. I need to get a batch going.

Grandma Beach’s Cough Syrup

1 part lemon juice

1 part honey

1 part “good” whiskey

This stuff is amazing when it ages for a couple of years. But I only take it medicinally.

Pain in my eis

For the sake of transparency, I thought I’d share my eis bock experience with you. Lest you get the idea that everything is always peachy in brewvana, that I’m an amazing, faultless brewer.

I could project that if I wanted, you know. But there’s no room for BS in brewvana.

So, with great expectations, I took a keg of my For Those About To Bock outside on a cold February night. The plan was to eis half of this ten gallon batch in a snow bank. Every so often, I’d check on it, shaking it gently to listen for the ice crystals to crash against the side of the keg. All too often, the assessment was not yet, and I don’t hear anything.

Day broke, and it wasn’t ready. I moved it to the north side of the house, to keep it clear of any sunny undoing of progress. That day, it warmed to just above freezing. Progress halted. In the afternoon, the temperature began dropping quickly. Hope returned. I checked, and I checked. Not yet.

Finally, it was around 8pm. I needed to deal with this. I wasn’t going to stay up all night after my frequent alarm-induced wake-and-checks from the night before. I was tired. So I brought the keg inside and set up to rack to another keg. There was a fair amount of slush visible. I cranked up the CO2 to push the beer to my second keg. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I worried that it had frozen solid on the bottom. I reversed the posts, so I could try blasting my impediment with CO2 in through the out door. A slow dribble. I stopped and grabbed a taster to grab a sample. Then, nothing.

CRAP!

By this time I was truly annoyed. Think! Think! I decided to take a warm water bath and try to melt whatever was causing the problem. Nothing yet. Nothing yet. I looked to my right.

CRAP!

At some point in all my switchings, changings, goofings and screwing aroundings, I lost track of whether or not the gas was on. I turned it on. It flowed like a raging river, with no rocks, logs or ice blocking its path. In the end, I didn’t really pull off much ice. More of a Really Cold Bock than an Eis Bock.

Good, but not eis. Oh, well. No sense in moaning. The lager rhythms complete, this beer is now on tap. Right tasty and a respectable first go at a lager.

Just not eis.

Thirsty Thursday–happy day

It’s a great day for a guy like me. At 5 pm, I showed up for the city council meeting. I wore my sweet Irish hat to look all sophisticated and whatnot. That was canceled out by the part about me having holes in my paint-speckled pants–I’d forgotten my change of clothes in my rush to get to work on my building.

I put my hat on my holey knee and sat with good posture and a gentle smile as the mayor worked his way through the agenda. Finally, it was my turn. And the good news is…

They approved my liquor license!

There is no bad news.

A bloody good day for a beer loving guy like me. I’m not sure if my mom will be proud, but I’m sure she’ll not be surprised that this is where my life has landed. Of course, all the way home, I contemplate the appropriate celebration beer. Something big. Something bad.

No. Something everyday awesome. I love porter. That would be perfect.

To the fridge I went. Since the only homebrew I have in 22-ounce bombers these days is my porter, I didn’t take the time to label them with the all-important “P,” which denotes to me the bottle’s contents. I just grabbed a bomber.

I forgot that Jimmy left a beer behind last time he was here. It was a bomber. It wasn’t a porter. I noticed when it poured an odd, but lovely orangey-amber. I noticed when it didn’t smell so roasty. I noticed when it didn’t taste all choco-roast-a-coffee-licious.

Obviously, I’m a talented beer drinker. Certified judge, even.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t a porter. A gift from a friend made it a brewvana moment. Thanks for the beer, Jimmy. It was perfect today.

More than 15 Things I Miss About Raleigh and NC

…in no particular order and not necessarily beer-related

1. NC breweries (especially Duck-Rabbit, Foothills, Pisgah, Green Man, Big Boss and Carolina Brewery)

2. A few beer bars (like The Raleigh Times, The Flying Saucer, Milltown and Barley’s Taproom)

3. Sam’s

4. CARBOY homebrew club and related people and shenanigans

5. A few specific beers that I can’t get here (Nostradamus, Rodenbach Grand Cru, stuff from Unibroue, Ommegang and Allagash, Midas Touch, Immort Ale, Avery’s Reverend and Czar, North Coast Old Stock Ale and a buncha other Belgians too depressing to mention

6. Heather and Paul

7. Old co-workers (some, not all, as you might expect, double missingness to those that are reading this without being pestered–Ken and Matt)

8. A few restaurants (like Sushi Blues, NeoMonde Deli, that Mexican place on Peace Street that’s changed hands so many times I can’t remember what it’s called, I Love NY Pizza and Lilly’s Pizza)

9. Miscellaneous food related: LocoPops in Durham, Eastern NC BBQ, Sweet Tea, The Third Place, warm Krispy Kremes on Person

10. World Beer Festival

11. The Mountains

12. Cat’s Cradle

13. mixing sound

14. Karen and Don Juan’s Oyster Roasts

15. My uncle and his family (Alan, Jane, Z, Eminemily and Lela)

Thirsty Thursday–catching up and getting ahead

Kyle, Jimmy and I haven’t done Thursday together for several weeks, so this time, it was really a matter of catching up. Jimmy had two new homebrews I hadn’t tried and I had two he hadn’t tried. We also cracked open a bottle of Sprecher’s Black Bavarian. It smelled great, but tasted oxidized. Not a date to be found on the bottle, but I’d guess this one had been around a while. I look forward to trying this again in a fresher condition.

I didn’t take any notes, as I was brewing in an effort to get ahead. I’m scheduled to take possession of the building for my restaurant within the next few days. Once I get that building, I’ll feel bad taking a day to brew, so I’m burning the midnight oil instead: ten gallons of porter, five of which have coconut in the fermenter.

Bonzo–Beer Geeks in Training

Today, Mom was out of town. So, out came Beavis and Butt-head; peanut butter, honey and chocolate chip sandwiches; and The White Stripes.

Further, Bonzo Soda Company leaped into action, producing its first cream soda. It’s fun watching these two rascals, miniature aficionados, hone their buds and delight in the fruits of their labor.

My role is increasingly nothing more than minor consultant. Today I washed bottles. As you can see by their labels, I’m soon to be left behind. Still, I can’t wait for this one to be carbonated and ready. It smelled and tasted wonderful when we pulled a sample.

Pictured right, you can see they are ridiculous. The good kind of ridiculous.

To your kids!

Freezing my eis off

the making of

Mongrel Brewing Company’s

High Voltage Bock and Roll

One of the many great perks about living in Iowa is the ability to do your eis bock au naturel. I pulled it from my fridge around 1:30am this morning, scared the droppings out of the handful of deer nosing for grass in my yard and plopped my bock in the snow. I’ve checked it every hour or two since, and stumbled upon the above portrait. You can have your Tequila Sunrise; I’ll take my Beer Lover’s Sunrise any day of the week. I knew I should share it with you. Ain’t it pretty?