September 2018 Brew Day – Kits and Book Reviews

This Brew Day, I had some visitors. Two folks, one of whom wanted to learn a bit of brewing, and the other of whom hadn’t brewed regularly in I don’t know how long. And another friend came over to make a “show” mead–my well water is much tastier than his municipal supply.

I had hoped for a few more people, but the “main attraction” of the weekend was landfall of Hurricane Florence. Many folks were busy doing other things to prepare–or simply doing other things.

What to Brew

Having anticipated the new(-ish) brewers, I thought it would be worthwhile to do a few basic extract beers. I wanted something that would ferment out and be drinkable quickly, as we’re planning on a neighborhood get-together in early October. Also, something relatively sessionable, because that’s the direction my interests have been leaning of late.

After digging about the web a bit, I settled on a pair of kits from MoreBeer: the Best Bitter, and the English Pale Ale.

The two kits arrived quite quickly after ordering–MoreBeer is quite good about that–and I opened them up enough to pull the hops for each batch and put them in the freezer until brew day. Their kits don’t intrinsically come with yeast, so I had to stop by my local homebrew shop to pick some up, which I did a few days prior to brewing. They also don’t come with grain bags for steeping any specialty grains; those, fortunately, are cheap.

Best Bitter

The Best Bitter kit shoots for a light-colored (6-7 SRM), lightly bittered ale (about 27.4 IBUs). The alcohol content, with a starting gravity of 1.048, should come out right around 4%, maybe up to 4.5%. I chose White Labs’ Burton Ale (WLP023),  figuring that it was sourced to a similar style to what I was making (Burton Ale hails from Henley-on-Thames, and comes from Brakspear Bitter). One packet, for a low-gravity beer, was plenty.

The kit came with pre-measured hop additions (two 1-oz doses of Kent Goldings, and a 1.5-oz hit of Northern Brewer), a whirlfloc tab, a double-walled, sealed, mylar pouch with six pounds of liquid malt extract, a pound of dry malt extract, and 8 ounces of crushed specialty malt to steep.

The extract was quite fresh; MoreBeer does a pretty brisk business, so I figured it would be. In the back of my mind, I had anticipated seeing cans–it’s been about that long since I did an extract batch. I can’t say for certain that this helped keep the extract fresh, but it seemed that way. Regardless, the pouches make it easier to get the syrup into the kettle.

English Pale

Even though English Pale Ale isn’t a recognized BJCP style any longer, I recall it fondly from my early brewing days. The kit is superficially similar to the Bitter, with the pouch of extract, specialty grains, hops, and whirlfloc. It is designed to come out a bit darker (about 14 SRM), if anything more lightly bittered at 24 IBUs, and about the same alcohol (starting gravity 1.049, and shooting for about 4-4.5% ABV). For this batch, I chose White Labs’ London Ale (WLP013), which is supposedly sourced from Worthington White Shield, an English IPA.

If anything, on looking at the recipes, I’d have swapped them style-for-style; to my eye, the Pale Ale looks more like a Bitter, and vice-versa. But then, really, it’s sort of the “what’s in a name?” effect: the name is more cosmetic than anything, and if they want to call it a Pale Ale, that’s on them.

Either way, both brews went very smoothly, smelled delicious, and were fermenting happily away the next morning. I’ll try to remember to provide tasting notes, after they’re kegged and tapped.

A Little Light Reading – Book Reviews

To pass the time on my daily work commute, I listen to a number of podcasts. Lately, I’ve been bingeing on the Experimental Homebrewing podcast, with Denny Conn and Drew Beecham. It’s a fun show, with interviews, discussion, style breakdowns, tips, and tricks, and pretty much everything you could ask for.

Inspired by the show, I went and picked up two of their books: Experimental Homebrewing, and Homebrew All-Stars. I haven’t dug much into the former, but I did read All-Stars straight through.

The main conceit of Homebrew All-Stars is that broadly, homebrewers can be classified as one of several types: Old-School Masters, Scientists and Process Nerds, Wild Ones, or Recipe and Ingredient Innovators. Denny and Drew readily admit that these aren’t 100% perfect fits all the time, and everybody has a little of all of these in them (indeed, they talk subtypes and crosses between types). But generally, I think they are on to something.

They interview several prominent homebrewers within each type, and get advice, tips, and a few recipes for each one. While I can’t say that everything was surprising and new, there were more than a few things I hadn’t seen before, and could take away for my own brewing processes.

One thing I’m grateful for is the blessedly short version of the apparently mandatory, near-ubiquitous “how to brew beer” chapter. (I do wish that editors of brewing books wouldn’t insist on one of these in every single book. By the time most brewers are getting into either of these books, they’ve probably got at least a handful of batches under their belt, and don’t really need the primer.)

In all, I would rate “All-Stars” at a 4.5 stars out of five. It did kind of seem a little like they were simply re-hashing interviews from the podcast, but there was enough new stuff to overcome that. (And, having book-in-hand is easier for referencing than trying to find the right podcast episode, and listen/transcribe the relevant portion.) I’m hesitant to give a rating to “Experimental” yet, as I haven’t read much of it–but what I’ve gone through seems at least as solid, if not a bit more so. For you intermediate to advanced brewers out there, I highly recommend them! (For any beginners reading this, they’re not bad, but they’re talking some more advanced stuff, particularly in “All-Stars”.)

What say you, readers? Have you found any good kits, lately? Or read a good book?  Please let us know in the comments! Thanks!

One goal reached: Water Profile

In my last post, I mentioned a list of goals for upcoming brewing; I’m happy to report that I’ve accomplished one–I have my water profile!

The Profile

pH          6.4
Na          4ppm
Ca          14ppm
Mg         10ppm
SO4       <1ppm
CO3       <1ppm
HCO3    26ppm
Cl             36ppm

Total Hardness as CaCO3: 77
Total Alkalinity as CaCO3:  21

There are a couple of other bits listed–iron, phosphorus, and the like, but they generally don’t impact brewing (unless they’re way out of whack, which mine aren’t).

So what does all of that mean?  Well, according to everything I’ve read (here, and here), and various calculators (Beersmith, and Bru’n Water), my water is ideal for “very malty” beverages, with an SRM ranging from 6-10. That’s on the order of medium amber, down towards nearly brown. (A handy color chart can be found here.)

Again, so what? Well, the tendency my water has is to bring malts forward, and–if not suppress the hops, at least to do nothing for them. This is due mostly to my sulfate (SO4) levels being “below detection limit.” (For comparison, even Pilsen has 5ppm of sulfate. Most towns in the “Old World” are much higher–London runs about 75ppm or higher.)

So, for future batches, I’ll be doctoring the water a little bit–adding some gypsum to the mash, most often. A half teaspoon or so will bring up the sulfate, and add a little calcium as well. (Those relatively rare times I do extract brews, I may cut it down to a quarter teaspoon in the boil.)

Other Goals

Progress of sorts is being made on several of the other goals I listed, as well. First and foremost, I’ll be doing two batches on the next Brew Day: an English Pale Ale, and a Best Bitter. They’ll be extract batches, because this Brew Day I’ll be teaching some new folks, and don’t want to scare them away with all-grain just yet.

Both batches should tip the scales at about 4% abv; by the typical American definition of “session” (being under 5%), I’m right in. Once I see how these go, and after “progressing” them in future batches up to all grain, I’ll see about trying to dial them back to about 3.5%, which is my personal definition of “session”.

As to fermenter upgrades, I’ve decided where I want to go for the time being: BrewBuckets (also available here). I’ll eventually work up to full conicals, but probably not until I’ve got the “full brewery” completed (and which will be its own set of posts). The deciding factor was discovering another “toy”: the BrewJacket.

The BrewJacket (no links just yet–a Google search will bring it up) is a nifty device that allows you to maintain a set temperature in your fermenter, using the Peltier effect. (“Magic.”) They’re pricey, yes, but I’m a technophile at heart. (And I’m certain I can rig a system to run them off of a solar array…)

Using one of these would greatly expand my lagering capability: I would only need the chest freezer for the final cold crash, generally, even in summer. And in the depths of summer, when the cellar is getting warmer than even ale yeasts like it, I can still keep them comfortably cool. And either way, I’ve been looking for a more reliable fermentation temperature control system. It’s either these, or get a fridge for the cellar–and there’s not really room down there for another appliance.

There you have it: my water, and plotting the completion of a few other goals.  What do you think of the water profile? Or my plans for the upcoming brews? Have any of you used the BrewBucket, or the BrewJacket? I’d love to hear about them in the comments.

Summer Harvest

Having recovered (mostly) from Pennsic (the gallery is in the sidebar on the right), we found it was time to get stuck in on the garden and related outside-the-house things. In particular, it was time to do the summer harvest, before the weeds made it completely impossible. Also on the agenda: starting to reclaim the flower beds, and getting the garden beds ready for fall plantings.

Weedmageddon and a Harvest

It seems that we encounter some version of “weedmageddon” every year–a bout of summer rains, alternating with intense heat, often with crazy work schedules, and we can’t keep up with the weeds in the garden, much less get a decent harvest in. This year, the culprit was Pennsic, combined with frequent rains.

On our return, the garden had jumped from barely knee-high plants and a pretty controlled weed situation, to plants (mostly weeds) up to eye-level. An emergency “pull all the weeds!” session was held, combined with brutal prunings of the tomato plants which had threatened to crawl across the entire garden. We salvaged what tomatoes we could, but the chickens were gifted with more than a few of them.

2018 Potato HarvestOnce things were more or less under control, we set about harvesting what we could. The onions did pretty well, particularly the yellow ones–the red onions never got much above golf-ball sized. The garlic ended up being pretty much a non-starter; we’ll get some more in for the fall, when they’ll be happier with the cool weather. But the big success was the potatoes. From a few small hills, we actually got about 50 pounds! (A photo of the harvest is to the right–please excuse the [ahem] potato-quality picture…)

The tomato harvest is still ongoing, of course, and the pole beans have only just really kicked into gear. Most of the squash have croaked, but a couple of pumpkin vines are still fighting on–the best one being the “volunteer” in the front flower bed. We’ll see how they do.

Getting Things Ready for Fall

The plan for the fall garden includes lots of brassicas–cabbage, bok choi, brussels sprouts, cauliflower, broccoli, and the like. Other beds will get root vegetables, such as beets, turnips, and radishes. Additionally, we’ve got a few unusual things to try out: salsify (two varieties), sugar beets, and swedes (related to rutabagas), to name a few.

A couple of the beds are going to lay fallow over the winter, and I hope to talk my wife into letting me put some winter grains in some of them. A few varieties, I’ve only got enough for about a two-foot square plot; with the winter wheat, I can probably do a full bed. The greens (after I clip the grains, in the spring) would be a good green manure, and having the plants in the garden would cut back on deer predation, which means I might get to harvest some of them, and grow up a better volume of grains.

Other fall preps include keeping a weather eye on the bees. They’ve been sucking down the sugar-water, almost as fast as I can put it out (about a quart each day and a half, give or take). They’ve been slow to draw out supers–I’m giving them another couple of weeks to work on them–but they’re doing fine as far as brood and pollen; their mite counts are as low as expected (zero–these are ‘hygienic’ Russian bees), and they look healthy. At this point I’m cautiously optimistic, but I’ve been here before. Another hive inspection in early- to mid-September will, I think, tell me how things are going to go.

Brewing, Of Course

The August brew day was one of cellar management. I racked some meads over to secondary, and cleaned a couple of things up in the cellar. Upcoming brew days will likely include some teaching moments (several folks have asked me to teach them about brewing), as well as some possible equipment upgrades, and playing around with some interesting techniques. In particular, I’m hoping to:

  1. Upgrade fermenters. I haven’t decided whether to go with conicals, BrewBuckets (almost-conicals), or 10-gallon corny kegs. Pricing, availability, and funds will end up deciding.
  2. Get an “official” water analysis done on the well water, with the goal of being able to dial things in a bit tighter.
  3. Do more in the way of session beers–I have my eyes set primarily on English milds and bitters, although as things cool off, I’m thinking about making a Kolsch or two, as well.
  4. Do a parti-gyle, in the style of Fuller’s (two sets of wort run off from the grains, then mixing the end results). It would require a little juggling of equipment, but I think the results would be fun.
  5. Get another 20-gallon Igloo cooler, with the intent of being able to do some really big mashes–possibly even enough for a 5-gallon batch of Braunschweiger Schiff-Mumme.

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A Successful Return from Pennsic 47

Pennsic 47 is now behind us. I certainly had a good time while there. I got to meet (and re-meet) many old friends, and make a number of new ones. I attended several classes, watched some of the spectacle, and enjoyed browsing the Arts and Sciences displays.

There were some tense moments, to be sure, but there always are. My group is planning an after-action party, and I hope some things will be ironed out there. Additionally, there was the undercurrent of SCA politics; some of it relatively benign, and some of it less so–but everyone I know is doing what we can.

I’ve got a good double-handful of pictures of things; I’ll see about setting up a photo album here somewhere, and getting them up.  But one that I absolutely must post is the gathering of the Historic Brewing Roundtable:Historic Brewing Roundtable, Pennsic 47Yours truly isn’t in this one, because somebody had to take the photo. We had a grand discussion, and lots of samples went around; I think it’s safe to say that everyone learned something, and that a good time was had by all.

My class went well, both times I presented it. It probably went more smoothly the first time, but only because it hadn’t been so hot and humid for so long. By the time the second iteration came around, everybody was getting a little ragged around the edges.

As to the beer I brought, where I started with three full kegs (15 gallons), I came back with probably two or two and a half, at the very most. One keg was completely kicked (the Brown Ale); the Experimental has maybe two pints left. And the Pils has less than two gallons, probably closer to one. I’ll adjust fire for next year–it won’t be an 8-keg extravaganza, but I’ll probably bring four, at least.

That’s the quick report; due to coming home with a lovely head cold, I’ll save the full report for later. How about you, readers? How was your Pennsic (if you went)? Let us know in the comments! And if you’re one of my new brewing friends, feel free to say “Hi!” down there, as well!

Pennsic 2018 Pre-Post

Pennsic 2010

We’ll have a little down time for the next couple of weeks, as the SCA’s biggest event, Pennsic, is about to begin. My wife and I will be going up this weekend to help with setup, but we won’t be on-site full time until late on Wednesday the 1st.

I’ll be teaching this year. It’ll be my first experience teaching (formally) at Pennsic; I’m a bit nervous, but I’ve been going over my stuff quite a bit lately, so I think it’ll go okay. (I’ll be mentioning the blog while there, and probably handing out my card to lots of people, so I’ll probably have to step things up, when I get back.  Hi, new folks!)

Other exciting bits: After a mis-communication (or slight misunderstanding), I was prompted to re-build my beer cart, which goes by the title of “The Oracle.” (It’s a somewhat complicated story, which I’ll save for another post.) This one is Oracle v2.3.  I’d originally planned for the next one to be v3.0, but there it is. Maybe next year–but more likely 2020.

I’m bringing up two kegs, plus hauling one for a friend. Mine are a Brown Ale and one of the Experimental Berlinerbier/Braunschweiger Mumme batches; the friend’s is the Pilsner-style from two months ago. I think we’ll be well-enough stocked for everything.

We’re doing quite a few experimental things this year, too. We’ve got a small solar setup (100W panel, one deep-cycle battery, plus charge controller and 300W inverter) to power the igniters on the propane stove (!). Yes, I know lots of folks do small (or not-so-small) solar setups at Pennsic… But aside from a small, portable 15W fold-up panel I brought last year, I don’t believe our camp has done anything quite this ambitious. I’m confident it’ll be fine.

Then there’s the bit about leaving the children to tend the homestead. Again, it’ll be fine–they’re 17 and 15, this year, and quite able to tend the animals, and cook for themselves. And we’ll be stocking them up with frozen dinners, just in case… And we’ll apparently be coming back every three or four days or so. (I’m of the opinion we could stretch it to “once in the middle of the trip,” but I’m not in charge of such things, so there it is.)

Then there’s what to do after we get home. Beyond the unpacking, leisurely showers, and clean clothes, I’m certain we’ll be spinning up to take on the next projects as soon as possible. Homestead-wise, that will be working on the utility room. Brewing-wise, though, I’ll have to consider.

I’m thinking I’ll be doing a series of… not classes, as such, but more “seminars” on brewing, going from the basics up to all-grain. The impetus is that I’ve had fully four people in the last two weeks ask me if I teach brewing. I’d like to do them in conjunction with my normal Brew Days, and maybe spread the word a little to see if there’s additional interest.  I think it’ll be fun.

Speaking of fun, I was struck by inspiration this morning, for a set of brews based on various SCA awards.  At the upper end of the scale would be the Peerages.

For the Pelicans, it would be probably something like a sessionable English bitter–something that would serve for everyday drinking.  (Serve–get it? Pelican?  Ha!) Masters Of Defense would have to be something in a Belgian Sour, sharp and brisk. Laurels–stay with me on this one–would be a Czech Pils: subtle and artistically challenging. And for the Chivalry, I’m thinking probably a Russian Imperial Stout.  (Big, strong, and uncomplicated; about as subtle as an elephant.) All in jest, of course…

Anyway, if you’re going to Pennsic, dear Readers, please look me up (I’m in Ravenstreet, block E05, between Chandler’s Road and Brewer’s Road). I’ll try to get some pictures to share, for next time.  Cheers!

Brew Day, July 2018 – Cellar Management and Meads

Between the heat, things to do around the house, and the proximity to Pennsic, this month’s Brew Day was mostly cellar management. I got the beers from May kegged, and pulled a few 2.5-gallon carboys to make a couple of meads.

Cellar Management – Kegging Brews

The first of the May brews was my experiment in direct-firing the mash. Overall, it was a success for what it was–but I’d have to revamp the recipe if I were to do it again. It came out a most peculiar orange color, and the malt “backbone” was off. I’m not certain just how to describe it, really. I think if I switch the amounts of the two base malts, it would come out better. (I had 11 pounds of Munich, and 5 pounds of Vienna; so swap them to 5 of Munich and 11 of Vienna.) The hops need tweaking, as well. I think move the First Wort addition to a straight 60-minute addition; move the 10-minute addition back to 20-30 minutes, and add a whirlpool dose.

The second one to keg was for my friend Dominic; we brewed up a Pilsner-ish for him. (He’s very much of the “lighter is better” opinion.) When racking it into the keg, my only comment was “this is the most Dominic beer we’ve ever done.” It’ll be a step beyond “pale straw” color, I think. Corona is probably darker. The malt and hops are well-balanced, but very light. Tasty, and it’ll be great chilled at Pennsic.

Both beers were cloudy–my experiment much more so than the Pilsner.  And mine in particular was rather phenolic, a sign that things fermented warmer than the yeasts would have liked. But then, the cellar is running a very warm 80 degrees right now, supposedly–I think it’s probably more like high 70’s most of the time. So something needs to be done about that, in the long run.

Thoughts on future plans

I’m thinking more and more about switching my summer brewing over to a kveik yeast. They’re supposedly good up towards 110 degrees, even, fermenting cleanly the whole way.  I’ll have to wait until after Pennsic to try one, obviously, but I’m eager to see.

I do have a couple of questions about them: how would they do for a mead? How well do they flocculate (drop out of suspension)?  Things like that. Fodder for future experiments.

In the meantime, if I continue with “regular” yeasts in summertime brews, I’ll have to see about setting up a water bath for the fermenters, even down in the cellar. (Or turn off the dehumidifier for the duration of the ferment, but everything else in the cellar would be the worse for wear.) In the long run, of course, I hope to convert the “Garage” (currently my wood shop) into the “Brewery,” and set up some sort of dedicated cool space for fermenting and serving.

New Brews

This evening I’ll be mixing up a pair of meads to go in the fermenters I mentioned above. Both will be 2.5-gallon batches; one will be a blackberry melomel, and the other a Pinot Noir pyment.

The main thing about these two batches is that I’ll be moving out of my comfort zone, and using yeasts that I’m not as familiar with: 71B for the melomel, and RC-212 for the pyment. My “normal” go-to for meads is D-47. It plays well with most fruits, leaves a moderate sweetness, and actually improves over time when left on the lees.

I’m going with the “new” yeasts for a couple of reasons. Firstly, I’d like to expand my “library” some. I think I’ve learned and progressed a bit from my early days, when I used whatever wine yeast was available, as long as it was EC-1118. I’d like to see what these other yeasts can bring to the table. I mean, I keep seeing 71B mentioned as people’s preferred mead yeast, but I don’t have much experience with it, and a half-batch is a good way to learn. And finally, all of these yeasts evolved to do great things in their particular environments–RC-212 is great for red wines; 71B supposedly enhances berry flavors.

Each of these batches will get 5 pounds of clover honey, if only because that’s what I’ve got available. I’ll dose them up with staggered nutrients, too, then move them down to the cellar for the medium-term. I figure they’ll probably clear by early September, and I can get them bottled in September, then serve them up for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

(Note to self: set up calendar reminders to go check on them periodically, to make sure the airlocks don’t dry out…)

Hopleaf Mead Update, Cellar ManagementWhile I’m on the subject, the Hopleaf Mead continues to do its thing. It’s clearing up pretty nicely, and the hop leaves are surprising me a little by slowly sinking to the bottom. I’ll probably give it another week or two, simultaneously giving me time to find one of my other gallon jugs, then rack it onto some sorbate and hit it with some sort of finings before bottling it.

I’ll admit to being quite curious how this one turns out. My prediction is that the leaves will, at the absolute most, only mildly affect the flavor, and it’ll be a subtle “there’s something unusual here, but I’m not sure what.”

Bizarre Idea as a Closing Thought

This came to me in one of those half-asleep moments a while back: I should make a true “Frankenstein” batch. I’ve got techniques for malting and brewing from period. I’ve got grains from period (once I get enough of them grown up). In theory, I know how to get hops from period–or, failing that, at least their first-generation descendants. Yeast from period? Kveik (well, period enough). Add some honey (ideally from my hives), a la Trossingen. Ferment it up in a barrel, and serve it casked (either through a beer engine, or simply tapping the barrel).

Lots of planning and work would have to go into it–I’d need to grow enough Bere, and grow up the hops. I wouldn’t want to use a new barrel, so I’d have to run a few batches through one, to “mute” the oak a little…

But I think this would be a wonderful thing to do, in addition to my (already-planned) “Estate Beer.” What say you, readers?  Comments welcome below, or via email. (Speaking of which–I’m trying to get the blog’s email list function working; if you sign up, I won’t “spam” you, but only send at most a monthly newsletter, and notifications when I put up a new post. I hope you’ll give it a go!)

Following Rabbit-holes in Trossingen

One of the things I find most interesting about my brewing hobby is the various rabbit-holes it will take me down.  The research takes me down all sorts of odd side-streets and alleys.

Rabbit Holes

For example, finding myself with all sorts of “excess”–mostly spent grains–I started looking at other things to do with it. Dog biscuits and bread are the obvious answers. Or when a batch is done fermenting, I’ve got a surfeit of yeast: again with the bread.

Then there are the slightly odder things. What did they use to drink their beer, or ale, or wine, or mead? That question led me to a number of interesting places. There’s the bowls and cups I mentioned previously–those tended to be for beer, sometimes ale. There are lots of references to “wine cups,” and the Russians even had a “wine bowl” of much larger size.

Drinking horns?  Well, they were used, but I don’t think they were ubiquitous. (There seem to be many more trees than there are horned livestock.) Tankards? Possibly. Probably, even. I’ve seen reference to lots of glassware, too, and its use seems to have spanned class and caste to a much greater degree than people think.

Then there’s the question of mead. It seems to have been very much a special occasion drink in most areas. For that, you’d break out your “fine china,” in the form of your horns and the like. One particular type of vessel stands out for mead, though: the mazier. (It’s also spelled “maser,” but using that as a search term brings back all kinds of odd sci-fi stuff.) Maziers, though, are worth a post all their own.

Where things get really interesting to me, though, is when you can actually look at an extant item. That’ll usually be through photographs, to be sure, but it’s certainly better than nothing. (One interesting source of photos is Robin Wood’s book “The Wooden Bowl”. This book focuses on central and northern European bowls, and has lots of lovely pictures–but it’s not where I’m going today.)

Enter Trossingen

A set of turned things that really caught my attention when I first saw pictures  of them were the wooden goods from the Trossingen grave.  I don’t recall how exactly I ran across them–most likely, it was wandering through Pinterest–but detailed photos and descriptions can be in the book “Mit Leier und Schwert” by Barbara Theune-Großkopf. (The link to it is here, but be forewarned that it’s Amazon.de, the book is in German, and it’s usually out of stock.)

The grave is that of a 6th century Merovingian/Frankish high-status warrior. He was buried in a box-bed turned into a coffin, surrounded by grave goods, to include his sword, shield, spear/lance, a lyre, an antler comb, some pouches, a chair, a small table, candlestick, some candles, two bowls, and a canteen. Of these, the bed, candlestick, chair, table, bowls, and canteen, were at least partly turned.

Now, those are enough to pique my interest all on their own. But what really grabbed my attention was when I read through the bit on the canteen. In particular, the fact that the canteen was probably full when it was buried, and there was still residue on the inside–which they ran a pretty full analysis of.

Trossingen Canteen
The Trossingen Canteen

Alamannic “Starkbier” with Honey and Hops

Apparently, the Trossingen canteen once contained a fermented malt-based beverage, strengthened with honey. But where things get really odd is when they looked at the various pollen grains that were present. Among other things, these included hop pollen.

Being good scientists, and Germans to boot, the researchers decided to get together with the Weihenstephan brewery and try to recreate the beer. The report on this was published in a different academic journal, which I’d have to track down separately. If/when I find it, I’ll update the post and put a link to it here.

The recipe was obviously speculative–they were going off of long-since-evaporated 1300 year old dried beer residue. I’d like to see a little more about their process, and probably make a few adjustments to it. For instance, I believe the “recreation” used purely modern barley-malt. Hand-malted, to be sure, but more than likely the period malt would have included wheat and rye at least, possibly oats, and maybe some other weed seeds as well. Small percentages, probably, but it doesn’t necessarily take much.

Nevertheless, they came to the “definitive” conclusion that the canteen was full when buried, it contained a strong barley-based fermented drink. That drink was hopped, and at some point honey was added.

Let that sink in for a minute. They’re talking a hopped beer in 580AD. This is pushing 250 years before Abbot Adelhard of Corbie Abbey wrote, connecting the hop-harvest with brewing, and 600 years before the earliest written evidence of hopped beers in the modern sense, from St. Hildegard of Bingen. (Read about Adelhard and Hildegard over at Zythophile!)

My mind was, to say the least, blown. But still…

What Does It Mean?

How, you may ask, does this affect my brewing?  Well, to be fair, it doesn’t, really. I mean, if your persona in the SCA runs to early Frankish or Germanic, it means that hopped beers are “allowed” (not that that was stopping you). You’re not “stuck” with gruitbeer (which is a topic for another post). And speaking of other posts, we’ll take a look at the bowls, candlestick, and chair in time.

This has me wanting to do another experimental brew on a future Brew Day, to do my own recreation of the batch. What say you? I’m open to questions (and suggestions) in the comments!

Wood Crafting

In addition to my brewing, when I’m not working on some aspect of the house or the homestead, I like to spend time in the wood shop. I’m most successful at turning pieces of wood into big piles of sawdust, but now and again I’ll turn out something I’m willing to show to others. Once in a while, I can even repeat the process, and (after much practice) come up with something I truly like.

This was originally the case with my lathe-turned bowls and cups. My earliest examples, from when I was using a cheap drill-powered “lathe”, and didn’t really know what I was doing, were clunky, at best. I don’t believe any of those pieces still exist.

About four years ago, after a ten-year hiatus, I got myself a better lathe. This one was still cheap, and had its own idiosyncracies, but it had enough power, and stayed on-axis well enough, to let me refine my turning a bit more. After a bit of practice, and learning more about technique and process, I started producing somewhat more usable items.

Then, in early 2016, I went all-out and got a name-brand lathe. This was a step up in terms of being able to find accessories, in terms of the solidity of the lathe bed, and in terms of the power and speed of the motor. (It was also whisper quiet, relative to the old one!) I also went the route of getting a lathe bed extension, which allows me to turn spindles up to about 42″ in length. So, in addition to my usual bowls and cups, I now have the ability to turn the longer parts of chairs.

When I turn bowls, I base them mostly off of finds from Novgorod and/or York excavations. The Russian vessels I like because my SCA persona is Russian, for one, and for two, they’ve got generally the widest variety of things, ranging from small cups and salt-cellars up to really large serving bowls. The York finds are really well documented, but less extensive. Then I’ve got a few drawings, mostly in singles or pairs, from a couple of other finds. Exeter, for instance, provided one of my favorite styles: a “conic section” bowl with straight sides and a flat bottom.

I try to keep a selection up on my Etsy site (Holmgard Trading);

Wood bowls
Turned wood bowls

my inventory usually shows mostly as cups and small bowls, but I’ve got a few larger ones “in the back,” and I’m happy to turn more, especially if you’ve got a picture or a line drawing from an actual find. My main limiting factors are time, wood availability, and that I can only go as big as about 12″ in diameter. That said, if you’re interested in something, email me, or hit me up in my shop–I’m happy to see what I can do.

If you visit the shop, you’ll see that I’ve been branching out a little from just wood. At present, I’ve got a series of bone nalbinding needles. I’m hoping to get some “regular” sewing needles done up, as well, but they’re a little tricker to make. Eventually, I intend to do a few bone combs, as well. They’re problematic not for their size, like the needles, but more for making sure everything goes together correctly. I’ve not had luck with them yet, as things tend to go out-of-alignment, or (worse yet) crack at inopportune moments.

wood crafting combs
Bone comb (top), teeth not cut; wood comb (bottom), teeth cut, not finished.

For handwork, lately, I’ve been trying out wooden combs. They seem about as common, in the Novgorod archaeological record. The process is similar to the bone versions, at least where the “fiddly bits” (the teeth) come in. One difference, though, is that if I mess up and crack a piece of wood, I’m not out that much. Scrap wood for combs I have, but the bones are harder to come by.  Enough practice with the wood ones, I figure, and I’ll try tackling the bone ones again.

While I’m talking about bones, I’d really like to try something more complex with them, at some point–maybe a buckle or the like. I have plans for some small pendants, as well.

This, of course, isn’t the entirety of what keeps me busy–just a small sampling of the various wood crafts that I work on regularly. I’ll come back to this topic later, and take a look at some of my source material, as well as do a bit of how-to. Please sign up to the email list for updates, and post any questions in the comments below!

Brew Day, June 2018 – Hopleaf Mead

This month saw the brewing of a hopleaf mead. This is rather a strange-seeming batch, and a bit of an experiment, just to see if some 15th-century Venetians knew what they were talking about. (I opted not to make anything overly complex because it’s been in the low 90’s and humid. Also, we’ve been getting pavilions ready for Pennsic outside, which is hot, sweaty, and tiring. Firing up a burner was definitely counter-indicated.)

The hopleaf mead experiment stems from a passage in a Russian book on brewing. In it, a professor writing the foreword cites Ambrosio Contarini, part of the Venetian Embassy to the Shah of Iran from 1472-1475. On the trip back from Iran, Contarini and company stopped for about six months in Moscow. Part of the story of his travels reads thus:

They have no wine of any kind, but drink a beverage made of honey and the leaves of the hop, which is certainly not a bad drink, especially when aged.

The “leaves of the hop” (hopleaf) really caught my attention. It reads that way in both Russian (“с листьями хмеля“) and, once I found it, the original Italian (“con le foglie del bruscandolo“).  My first thought was, certainly they don’t mean hop leaves? Contarini has to be confused about what part of hops gets used. I mean, the cones are green, and somewhat leaflike.

Intrigued, I dug a little further. “Bruscandolo” is Venetian dialect for hops (Google says that “normal” Italian would be “luppolo”; and a medieval Italian-English Herbal Dictionary even went with “lupuli“). Nowadays, it apparently means the hop shoots or tips, which can be treated like asparagus shoots or fern shoots, and cooked up in a variety of ways. (I’ll have to try Risotto di Bruscandolo, or Bruschetta Bruscandolo, next spring.) But I found another reference, again to a Venetian in period:

The principal imports of England are spices, sugars, and all sorts of fruit from Spain and France, wine, oil, and what they call hops (obloni), the flower of the hop plant, and the “bruscandoli,” needed for the brewing of beer…

This is from an English translation of some diplomatic letters from Giacomo Soranzo, the Venetian Ambassador to France. Now we’ve got several hop references and names; just to confuse matters, Soranzo describes “hops” and “bruscandolo.” Fortunately, he specifies “hops” as “the flower of the hop plant.”

Given all of these varying terms and such, until and unless I find anything different, I’m going with the notion that “hops” (or “obloni“, and maybe “lupuli” as well) are references to the hop flowers/cones, and “bruscandolo” is a reference to the plant as a whole. As such, it makes some sense to assume that Contarini meant the actual leaves. What one would get from them, I have no idea; all of the bittering oils are found in the cones. Hopleaf might (might) give you some tannins. There’s bound to be some natural yeast there, as well. But experimenting is in order.

I brewed this up as a 1-gallon batch of sweet mead, Cascade Hops, used in Hopleaf Meadand put three full-sized, mature hop leaves into primary, lacking any indication as to how much to use. I rinsed the leaves, just to ensure there weren’t any spiders, insects, aphids, or the like. The particular leaves I used were from one of my Cascade mounds, for the reason of ease of availability–I’d have had to go across the field to get Magnums or Willamettes, and did I mention it’s been hot?

Having acquired the leaves, it was time to assemble the rest of the recipe. I’ve got about 20 pounds of Clover honey left over from a previous meadmaking spree. Three pounds or so into a gallon batch makes for a decently sweet mead. I’d thought about using K1V-1116, but didn’t have any on hand, so I opted to go with EC-1118 instead. They’ve got similar alcohol tolerances, and both ferment out cleanly. Also, after pondering things, K1V is a “killer” strain–it kills off other yeasts in solution with it. If the hopleaf is to add anything of a yeasty nature to the brew, going with EC-1118 will allow that to come out. The rest of the batch is pretty standard, with GoFerm and Fermaid O staggered nutrient additions.

Hopleaf Mead
Hopleaf Mead, prior to adding the final leaf. It also got diluted by almost half.

Hopleaf Mead (this is recipe #166 in my Little Black Book)

3.1 pounds of Clover Honey
1 packet Lalvin EC-1118 yeast
4.53 grams Fermaid-O (split into four additions, at 24, 48, and 72 hours, and on day 7)
2.5 grams GoFerm nutrient
3 mature Cascade hop leaves, rinsed

OG: 1.126

Happiness is a Planted Garden

One of the things I simultaneously anticipate and dread each year is the coming of late spring. That’s when the “warm months” really get rolling on the homestead, and everything moves outside into the garden and the fields.

The upsides to the whole thing do outweigh the downsides, all things considered. The garden, so meticulously planned through the winter, finally gets planted. If you’re doing things right, you’ve been harvesting some of the earliest things–brassicas, cold-weather greens, and the like. I really enjoy when our produce starts switching from store-bought to self-grown, fresh from the garden. And it won’t be long before we can start enjoying fresh fruits–cherries, blackberries, and eventually apples and pears.

The plants all have leafed out, of course. Some of them, like the tulip poplars locally, are still blooming, which is great for the bees. The black locust and others have already passed, but the sumac is just beginning. If the colonies were established, I’d be looking at the first honey harvest of the year. (Read more about my bees here.)

The hard parts, though, include keeping the yard mowed, and weeding everything. The garden is small enough (and packed enough) to do by hand, as long as we keep on top of it. My grain patch, out in the field, is tilled, and waiting patiently. I haven’t decided if I’ll do spring grains, given the lateness of the season, or wait for fall and do winter grains. Either way, I can put some red clover seed down as a cover and green mulch–and the bees, again, will love it.

All of the yard tending means breaking out the various pieces of outdoor equipment, tuning things up, and starting them up for the first time. 2018 thus far has seen our trusty riding lawn mower die. We had been eyeing a replacement anyway, so that timeline got moved up. I’ve also historically had very bad luck with small 2-cycle engines, so the string trimmer has finally been replaced with a cordless electric one.

Other ups and downs involve the “livestock”–the chickens, particularly. With the longer days, they tend to lay more regularly. But with the heat of summer already on us, several have gone broody. We move them to the “quarantine” coop, to keep them out of the nesting boxes. This has the added benefit of cooling them off a little, and helps break the broodiness. But the quarantine coop has a flaw…

Oddly, the raccoon (I believe–it may have been a fox) got in before we had any in the quarantine coop. I believe either the coop door wasn’t latched well, or it managed to figure out the gate latch. Either way, it got two of the girls. We’ve addressed the latch issue with the addition of a carabiner “lock.” The longer-term solution for the girls in quarantine will be to move them to “general population” for the overnight. (I’ll stay up late with my “varmint repellant” for a few nights, just in case the raccoon comes back.)

In the meantime, my wife requested the purchase of more chickens, to “boost” the flock (we were down to 18). A search was run, and a gentleman not too far away was selling year-and-a-half old laying hens for $5 each–a steal! He was suffering from a rat problem, and wanted to divest of his flock for a while, in the hopes of clearing the rats out. We went with the intention of getting five or six, and came home with eleven for the price of six. So our flock is nearly back to its largest (we’re at 29; we’ve had as many as 30). After a little assimilation and acclimation, we’ll probably be getting over two dozen eggs a day.

All of this, with an eye towards continued house renovations. We’ve got new appliances on order, to replace the older ones (in excess of 10 years old). Also a new refrigerator, with a different air recirculation mechanism. The current one keeps building up ice next to the fan, which leads to an extensive procedure to dismantle it and clean it out. Also finally getting a propane gas line run for the stove and water heater, plus a few minor “tweaks” to plumbing.

The last major thing for the summer is to re-insulate and seal the joists under the kitchen/dining room floor, with the hopes that they’ll stop buckling. There’s only so much we can do about the humidity and temperatures above it, but we can certainly keep the moisture and cool from coming up from below.

What do you like (and dread) about the switch-over from spring towards summer? I’d love to hear, in the comments below!