Legend tells of a beer most foul, which when loosed from its growler, scorches the nostrils of any who dare to drink it.
This prophecy was fulfilled, and my growler batch was virtually undrinkable. There was a distinct smell of sulfur that was tolerable at first but became overwhelming after the first few sips. From what I have read, the sulfur smell is a common symptom of yeast autolysis, which is probably the most likely culprit given the circumstances.
The beer was given about 1.5 weeks to ferment, and another 1.5 weeks to carbonate—3 weeks is a fairly young beer, but in this case, the beer was sitting on the yeast cake for that entire time. Most resources recommend no longer than 10 days on the primary yeast cake.
I was aware from the outset that this could be a possible spoiler in my experiment, but there is a lot of controversy about autolysis. The 10-day rule seems to be pretty common received knowledge. After that point, the theory goes, the yeast begin to cannibalize themselves and contribute off flavors; thus the need for a secondary vessel for longer fermentations. On the other side of the debate, there are those who claim that the effects of autolysis are overblown. It’s not that it doesn’t occur, or that it doesn’t effect the beer, but rather that the yeast eventually clean up their own byproducts and the off flavors dissipate over time. Thus, they claim, a long fermentation can just as easily be carried out all in one vessel.
I was turning all this over in my mind while pouring the remains of my sulfury beer down the drain, and then a thought occurred to me: I have one more growler of this stuff, so I have a good way to test for autolysis. At data point one (this beer), the effects of autolysis were obviously evident. But I have another growler full of the same beer, sitting on the same yeast cake, which I can open a couple weeks from now to get data point two. My growler batch experiment has turned into an autolysis experiment.
There is actually a lot to be hopeful about. As you can see to the right here, it was a pretty good looking beer, pretty well carbonated, and with a good flavor (at least as much as I could detect through the smell). If the off flavors do indeed take care of themselves, then the growler batch may still be a viable system.
The growler batches are primed. To protect all involved, I put baggies over the tops, and I sat them on a nice thick towel. If there’s any ’splodin, at least I can clean it up.
No matter how sketchy this setup looks, I assure you, it’s just homebrew.
Never, ever underestimate the power of the yeast. Shown here is the formerly muddy pale ale after 1 week in the bottle. Not a bad head for such a short time. Given these results, I think it’s clear that the yeast were tough enough to survive my clarifying techniques (gelatin and a cold crash).
Here’s where things get a little stupid. They call this step a “dough-in” for a reason. I dipped the whole grain bag in the mash water, and I instantly got a huge dough ball. I had to stir like crazy to break it up, and of course I forgot to turn off the heat during this process, so the temperature went out of control, too. I had to stick the pot in the fridge for a few minutes, but I got things back under control. To the right you can see my sparge pot, where I am steeping the specialty grains separately.
Amazing but true: when I turned the heat off and just wrapped these towels around the lid of my pot, the mash held its target temperature (150-155F) for 60 minutes. I think I only had to turn low heat on once for a minute or two when it threatened to drop below 150F.
minutes. That metal strainer that fits over the top of my brew pot, I feel like it’s one of best pieces of equipment in my whole kit. Also, please take note of my super high-tech kitchen with all those fancy knobs. I brew beers for the atomic age! Duck and cover.
Here we see the formerly muddy pale ale with a layer of whole-leaf cascade hops (1 oz.). A couple days later, I also added a half ounce of American oak chips. Yea, I know I’m just masking the flaws, but some of the best recipes in the world have been stumbled upon in this way. Not that I hold out such high hopes for my own brew, I just want to make sure it’s drinkable, which it wouldn’t have been otherwise, unless you like the flavor of wet dog. Hey, I’m not judging. What you do with your wet dog is your business.
Ye of little faith. Did you think I would give up on this beer? Well, I did consider it, but then I thought instead that this might be a good opportunity to test out some clarifying techniques.
You could say that this is the beer that started the blog. I had always made up my own recipes, and after a couple batches I had started to dial in my brewing process. That’s when I got cocky.