A Beer of Malt and Hops

As the smell of burnt bacon drifts across the room followed by a deluge of black ale, my eyes slowly begin to focus as the great orange glow takes hold of the shadows.

I blink twice and suddenly remember that it’s in my blood. No, not the alcohol from last night (well maybe that too), but brewing. As much as the morning light destroys the peace of night, it also awakens the body and mind. I am not in a song of ice and fire. This is a beer of malt and hops.

I am descended from a Keller, who is 93 years young come March . My grandmother was a Keller. Now she is a Wolf. Both names relate directly to the most superior beverage. And how has my grandmother lived so long? She adopted to her surroundings. Whether it be the only Jew in Georgia, or now in a temporary nursing home because of two fractures in her back, she fights on.

And as Ned Stark taught us when his head came rolling off of his shoulders: you either adapt or you die. And as we must adapt to dark from light, from warm to cold, and from a still summer breeze to the winds of winter…

so must we adapt from castle to one bedroom apartment with a crazy neighbors.

I must adapt or go thirsty.

In all stages of the brewing process change does not come easy. From cleaning the equipment in the bathtub and picking the hops out by hand to higher temperatures and tardy fermenting to an overflow while racking, I can only wonder if the taste of the beer will equal the labor it took to make it.

But my alternative? A fridge full of fizzy yellow water or overpriced micros. Not that the craft beer industry is all that bad, I just prefer my own creations. As for the fizzy yellow water… yeah, not going to happen.

But alas, inspiration does come from some of those overpriced micros. And we all know the famous idiom that imitation is the biggest form of flattery. Here I stand flattering the Brooklyn Brewery and Trader Joe’s. Yes, trader Joe’s.

Suffice it to say I spent a lot of money on the latter’s Black Ops, aged it for over a year, and rang it in with the New Year. The taste, from what I remember, was undeniably appealing, but the cost, well I’m glad I aged it for so long…

On the other hand, for five dollars, the TJ’s 2011 Vintage Ale gives you, “an amber-mahogany hue, abundant with coffee-with-cream colored, foam. The ample aromas are of cocoa and malt, with added notes of lemon and ginger. A single sip leads to the true discovery – mildly sweet and malty flavors, with a captivating suggestion of cocoa, citrus and spice.”

That’s right from Trader Joe himself, and I couldn’t have said it any better myself. What really struck me about this beer is not only its high quality and unique flavor, but it’s only 5 FREAKIN BUCKS! Until the Forgotten Monk is ready, go out and treat yourself to a 5 dollar bottle of trader joe’s finest product. Did I mention it’s 9% abv and comes in a 750ml bottle?

But enough about other people’s beers. I still have to learn how to best use my new place during the brewing process.

Suffice it to say, the Austin Amber was a bitch and a half to make. I was not prepared for the shortcomings my new home offered me. However, in hindsight, it was well… the beer turned out great so isn’t that all that matters?

The Austin Street Amber has the approval of Mr. Benedict Arnold.. oh I mean Andrew Schiavone himself. Though his family crest adorns the top of the bottle, one must never forget that the Wolf remains the leader of the pack.

This beer is crisp, easy to drink, not too bitter or too sweet and according to Andrew, doesn’t have an aftertaste. I could probably drink half the batch in a weekend. I think Andrew finally has a beer he can be proud of. He immediately said- you must make more of this! And I shall… as soon as honor is restored among brothers. In other words, when I finally beat him at trivia.

The Forgotten Monk is a Belgian Stout. It will have chocolate overtones with residual maltyness and nice spice from the Trappist yeast. I say ‘will’ because I failed to taste the beer upon racking. Now it sits untested in my closest patiently waiting for bottles. As light and easy to drink as the Austin Amber is, I expect the Forgotten Monk to be more on the heavy and chewy side. It’s got a ton of fermentables in it, including a pound of dark candi sugar and a whole lot of malt. If I get this bottled before the end of winter it will make for a great companion on a snowy night in.

As for my next liquid art... mayhaps a Scotch Ale with Rye or a nice Spring Kolsch. Or is it time to go back to the humulus lupulus and make a big east coast IPA? For now, cheers to 2012. May we all outlive the apocalypse or die with our favorite suds in our gullet.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot… Wolfbrew is coming.