Continuation of Somethin' is Brewin':
At this point I started to question my gift a bit. Truth be told, I really dislike beer. Acquired taste? I think not. Even the smell is nauseating. So why would I want to encourage a hobby such as home brewing? On the other hand, I do enjoy a tasty hard cider, which Justin insists is nearly the same process. So, being the great wife that I am, I conceded to go along with his enthusiasm.
Justin did some online window shopping for the remaining supplies and equipment he needed. Then he visited a few brewing stores - 2 in our area and 1 in Spokane. In fact, our 5th anniversary weekend getaway (planned by Justin) coincided ever so conveniently with a visit to Jim’s Brews in Spokane. Funny how that happens.
By Thanksgiving Justin had purchased all the necessary equipment and supplies for his first brew.
The Big Brew Day finally arrived on Sunday, December 5th. With the kiddo down for his afternoon nap and my kitchen freshly cleaned, Justin took command of the kitchen and got to work. As I expected, there were the last minute “I’m not as prepared as I thought” realizations, like when Justin forgot about the 4 bags of ice needed for the process - he rushed off to the corner store while I held down the brewing (like a pro, if I do say so myself...and I do). But otherwise Justin seemed to know exactly what to do and how to do it, so I retreated to enjoy my winter Sunday afternoon.
Fast forward two hours. The kiddo is still napping and, thanks to a late bedtime the night before, should comfortably nap for another hour, or so I hoped. I was working a Christmas craft at the dining room table, sipping egg nog and listening to Christmas music. Justin had moved his work station to the carport and basement as he was now using our giant cooler and basement fridge. From where I sat it looked like his first brew was going quite smoothly.
Side note: In case you can’t tell, I know absolutely nothing about the brewing process. Justin informed me ahead of time that he might need my help here and there, but other than offering an extra set of hands when needed I really have no intention of getting involved in his hobby. I don’t know what each stage of the brewing process is called. I don’t know any of the terminology other than the early mix being called the 'wort'. {And you wonder why beer grosses me out?} The only gadgets I can name are the funnel (this one is so large it could double as a hat), the bottles (duh!), and the carboy.
Ahh, the stupid carboy.
But first, a little background. Justin’s colleague actually gave him a good hand-me-down carboy several weeks before. However, in his research Justin finally realized he would need to buy a whole brewing kit in order to have everything he needed. Most kits come standard with a carboy so, like it or not, we ended up with two. Justin opted to use his new one on Big Brew Day.
Now, where was I? Oh, right, I was sipping my egg nog, singing along with Bing Crosby and thinking how much I love Christmas when suddenly it happened: the horrific crash which shall heretofore be known as The Carboy Heard ‘Round the World. I knew immediately what the sound was, even before I heard the “Shoot! Darnit! Aww man!” shouts coming from the basement. {You and I both know that wasn’t really what he was shouting, but lets not dwell on that detail, mmm’kay?}
Cue kiddo waking up early from his nap due to said shouting. Augh!
I quickly, albeit somewhat timidly, ran downstairs to check out the damage and found a fuming husband standing in a puddle of water and tiny shards of glass every which way. All he would tell me is “the stupid thing slipped right out of my hands”. Strangely enough, I wanted to cry for him right then and there. He had been so excited about this day and now it was ruined. But as they say, there is no use crying over spilled beer. Or is that milk?
{Just to clarify: he didn't actually spill the beer itself; rather just the water in the carboy. His brew was still in the stock pot.}
After he assured me he didn’t need help I retreated back upstairs to tend to Kendry. A few more minutes pass and I hear more crashes and shouting downstairs. {Are you kidding me with this?!} Fearing Justin had been careless and cut himself on some glass, I once again headed downstairs, this time with kiddo in tow. Thankfully, no cuts - just some extra fury over the fact that he retrieved the shopvac to clean up his mess, only to find that the hose for the vac had been left at his parents' house. When it rains it pours.
Finally Justin remembered that he had the extra carboy. After cleaning up the mess and sterilizing the new carboy he was back in business. However, in his frustration with himself he started to cut a few corners - pouring the yeast in at the wrong time, failing to strain the wort properly. Needless to say, when it was all said and done, with the brew properly stored and sealed in the new carboy, his frustration continued for the rest of the day, and a little bit into the next.
Sing with me now! "I'm just a little black rain cloud..."
Still too early to joke about it? Oh, alright.
Justin was certain he completely botched his first brew. And perhaps he did. But like any good cowboy, he hopped right back up on the horse by ordering a replacement carboy on Amazon the very next day, and he is already talking about what to do differently the next time around.
My tip? Don't drop the stinkin' carboy!
Follow-up note(s):
(1)In the days following this brew Justin observed his carboy cap bubbling, which apparently indicates that the yeast is doing its job properly. You never know, this could be an excellent brew. Not that I intend to taste it.
(2)As for those secondary crash noises, I was cleaning up the basement last night when I discovered that a porcelain vase had been shattered. Hmmm...I wonder how that happened.
(3)Lo and behold, there is something out there called a carboy carrier. Sounds like an excellent investment to me.
