Brewing, Cats, and Moving
My Tuesday worked out quite well. I finished my morning university gig and decided that if I was going to have a beer ready for my birthday at a BYO restaurant I should get going on it. My FLHBS is right by the college, so I just stopped by and thought that I would be able to put together a black Rye-PA with NZ hops in no time.
I think I can do a bunch of things.
The good thing is that I can think of all sorts of work-arounds.
A half hour later I walked out with a Better Brewer Rye-PA box and a bunch of NZ hops. I have a pack of WYeast Denny’s 50 at home which I had planned on useing from the beginning. My plan was to put it together on Wednesday, but at 4PM I got a phone call from my tutoring client cancelling our appointment.
Fuck it. Let’s brew.
I got everything going for the initial steeping of the grains, and the temperature was at a perfect 157, I dropped in the grains, the temperature dropped to 155. I dropped the thermometer into the pot. Fine, let’s move on.
Grains steep. I bring it to a boil and add the 60 min LME and hops. I add the 20 min LME and get SpecSO to smell the hops before I put them in. He’s not impressed, but that’s ok: More for me!
I finish the boil and bring it to the sink to cool. I just add our tap (well) water straight to the carboy to top it off, so I start adding it to the pot itself. The pot feels cool enough, so I start siphoning it into my carboy and walk off to dip the yeast into the sanitizer. When I come back, something doesn’t look right. MY CARBOY IS MELTING!!!
I pour the wort back into the pot to stop it and toss in a bunch of ice cubes and start to retransfer the wort. A couple of pumps on my siphon feel odd, so I pull it out of the opaque wort and IT’S MELTED TOO! My auto-siphon has a 15 degree angle bent into its middle. Really.
Grumble grumble. Whatever. We’re almost done. Just pitch the damned yeast already. I open up the smack pack and… the yeast pack didn’t break. Fine, let me sanitize a knife and poke it open.
Poke. Poke. Fuck.
I poked a hole in the bottom of the smack pack also.
It’s all together, let’s put a cap on it and let it go.
I go out for a drink.
I clean up the next morning and …
find the 20 minute hops still in their packet on the counter.
I open the stopper and toss them in.
Fuck it. Let’s see what happens.
I’m not going to put up the recipe until this brew proves itself not horrid.
(note: this article was written on 11/23 and references Tuesday 11/22 .I thought I scheduled it for publishing, but I hadn’t and discovered this after all of the earlier discussed drama that occurred the following week.)