Beer – that is all.
Those of us living today exist through a world of beer, beer, cigarettes, coffee, and beer. Currently, I have a coffee next to me, just smoked a bit, and desperately wish there was a beer in my fridge. Collegetown doesn’t bode well for snobby beer lovers who look in all the nooks and crannies for a good brew.
Looking hard enough into these nooks can hold a plethora of surprises or a sack of disappointment. Microbreweries are really a gem in the beer world. The heart and commitment that goes into making a singularly unique beer makes the price and journey worth it. My dad always took us to microbreweries that had the giant kettles right behind the bar. These bars were so lively, so friendly, they treated you like you were their best friend, and planted a one of a kind beer right in front of you. Naturally, in my continued longing for the spirit of beer, I turned my attention to looking at the Cincinnati microbrew scene. I wanted to know if this place could bring the understanding and liveliness of microbrewing I’m so used to knowing.
I don’t mean to make this a story of my own endeavors for self-gratification, I also want this to be informative for the traveler and native, but as I began my research amongst Cincinnati, I opened the sack of disappointment. Every “microbrewery” I called was merely a seller of craft beers from other places. They don’t create their own beer with their own brewery on site. I never got in touch with a man from Christian-Moerlein. Where are the beers, Cincinnati? Vine Street in Over-the-Rhine that used to crawl with pubs back in the 1860s now lays bare, yet this city still seems to tout its beer-snobbery. Barrel-House is gone, Christian-Moerline hasn’t spoken, Rock Bottom has gotten too big to qualify as local craft, Watson Brothers in Blue Ash is gone, Hudepohl-Schoenling Brewing Company – which did actually start in Cincinnati – is now owned by Christian-Moerline, and Yuengling actually started in Pennsylvania. It seems whatever glory there may have been in the 1860s, before prohibition crucified anyone so brave as to love beer, has since evaporated.
In desperation and despair, I turned to home-brewing. I don’t know anyone who homebrews here in Cincinnati, but my father used to practice the hobby until us kids started growing up and he had to focus more on working and “sensible” projects. However, I did contact a lively internet community of home-brewers who happily answered some of my questions. (I will be using their online “screen names” that they prefer to be referred to as.)
“The thing about beer is that only about 10% of the public or less really knows anything about it besides Bud, Miller, and Coors. Those big brands are beer also, but they are one style of a very eclectic drink,” says user skaggs77. Drinkers tend to forget that there are horizons beyond what flashes before them on TV.
“Why clone a commercial beer when you can go totally off the map and invent a new style altogether?” questions user internet-celebrity. Why do brand name beers taste hardly as good, yet make millions and billions of dollars every year? Because to mass-produce, they must calculate the most productive way to get people to consume. This dissolves the quality of their fermented drink into a yellow, fizzy mess. “Home-brewers typically worry about none of that (production for the masses, profit) and often enjoy the freedom to push the envelope. Trying something experimental with a 5-gallon batch costs little. The big guys don't have that freedom,” explains user Terrorsaurus. User jmn357 elaborates, “The fact that it's your own creation. It's just so cool to think that you made this. Then when you share it with friends and family, seeing their faces light up as they have good beer that you made. It's great.”
As fun as home brewing sounds, there must be some hidden expense that makes the practice elusive. From the information I gathered, yes, it can be. The simplest brew-kettle can start at $100; the burner, $90. Sanitizers and cleaners, used for bottling and after care are considerably cheaper but come in limited quatities. The cheapest fermenting device begins at $900 and the most expensive one $2500. Bare in mind this is just the equipment and there are much more than just kettles, sanitizers, and fermenters. Depending upon the kind of mead you want, kits start at $25. Soda (a.k.a rootbeer) around $15. The hops? Depending upon the type you wish to buy: between $3 and $5 for two ounces. With that said, two to four ounces of hops will make you five gallons of beer. The mechanics of home-brewing dig deep into wallets, but once all that’s left are the ingredients, supplies are cheap and abundant.
In light of keeping the local undertones, I asked the community where they get supplies. User yanman does everything online as the most local supplier is considerably more expensive and located 30 minutes out. User Rocky6501, and wellwatch get their equipment online, but like getting fresh ingredients locally. User bifftradwell says, “… About 1-2 times a year I go in with a few other brew buddies on wholesale purchases of 55-pound sacks of malted grain.”
I also posed a question about what really makes or breaks a quality brew. Everyone seemed very concerned that proper fermentation, temperature of the brew, and sound sanitation are keys to keeping the beer from tasting horrible. “I had a batch literally blow the lid off a fermenter,” wellwatch details. User gimpbully says it plainly, “A lack of cleanliness, improper measurements, bad math, not experimenting.” While home-brewing can produce a totally enlightening end, the timeliness of the process is what counts.
Finally, the users told me about the most important parts of making that well-crafted home-brew. Skaggs77 is a romantic, “(The) most important part is having a spouse who likes beer as much as I do.” To internet-celebrity, “Experimentation.” Terrorsaurus, “Patience.” User jnish trails along my train of thought from the beginning, “Learning about the history of beer, why different ingredients are used in recipes, and having a better appreciation for what arguably led humanity to settle and become a civilization.” Although, settling and becoming a civilization may have come slightly before the human race looked at hops and figured out ways to get hammered on the weekend. User ItsPronouncedNuclear told me that experimentation was his most important step, “I want to learn something from every batch I make whether it is a new process, ingredient, or hacked together equipment. Sometimes experiments work, and other times they fail horribly. Every time I learn what to do or not to do in the future. My best batch was a keg of doppelbock that was just ok when I started. I transported it across the country in a moving van and the major temperature swings rapidly aged it. When I carbed it up at our new place it was amazing.”
This dabble into brewing beer took many twists and turns but ended up on a note of the most simplistic measures. Yes, I suppose I am disappointed that I never got to discuss my original intention for this article, but to swap text with accessible users in a community dedicated to practicing beer, hopefully a deeper insight can be taken away that micro-breweries couldn’t offer. Those who do it, love it. They do it for the fun, the enjoyment of experimentation, to see the faces of those important to them light up, and for the greatest passion of beer. These random users could – as easily as you or I – go buy a microbrew every night and sip at the offered selection, but no. These guys take to heart the tradition of beer and joyfully craft their own.
The post for confirmation of quotes: http://www.reddit.com/r/Homebrewing/comments/q8un8/a_story_of_homebrewing/
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