Making miracles

By: CADE GRUNST

Posted: 11/9/07

Nine months ago, my roommate and I made a life-changing decision. He'd heard about it in one of his communication classes during a persuasive speech that would prove to be more influential than the speaker could have ever imagined. We did our research, to be sure. Our friends gave us hesitant but encouraging advice - after all, people our age don't normally go in for this sort of thing, and it's hard to offer guidance on topics with which you have little experience. We pored over the vast online resources. Who would have thought there would be so much information out there regarding a new little addition to our apartment? Finally, we got a little tipsy and decided to go for it.

We heard back from our Internet-based benefactors the next day. Our supplies were in the mail, they said, and we should try to do some reading before they arrived. Over the next couple weeks, we read all the material we could find and anxiously checked the mail daily. Finally our package arrived, and we were ready to get started. Like all first-timers, we were timid. No amount of reading could prepare us for the real deal. We set aside an evening that we could all spend together, turned on some soft music, readied the lights and brought something new and wonderful into the world: beer. We made five sweet gallons of a delicious English pale ale that tasted largely of triumph.

Homebrewing is a mystical and alchemical process virtually guaranteed to bring joy to your household. It's a bonding process as you and your friends carefully select a new recipe for your batch, boil your kit full o' goodies and watch in awe as they transform from disparate, vile-smelling ingredients into bottles of delightful golden-brown goodness. And as if that wasn't fun enough by itself, you end up with enough beer to float a small, private navy. Anyone not excited by that prospect is either a conscientious alcohol-objector or a thoroughly-killed corpse.

Much like making a child, brewing beer isn't especially difficult with the right preparation. In fact, if you're capable of reading this far, you're perhaps overqualified. It doesn't take long, either. Once you get the hang of the process, you can go from soda-swilling zero to beverage-hero in about two hours. Bear in mind that's just the brewing time; fermentation is a magic that can't be rushed, and takes at least a week. That said, watching your little yeasty beasties do their stupendous science stunt is nearly half the fun. Maybe the above beer-baby analogy was too much, but I feel oddly parental as I watch little bubbles pop through our fermenter's airlock. Yeah, that's me: "Coochie coochie coo! Making some carbon dioxide, are we? Every bite-sized bubble brings a bit better beer-to-BAC bang for my buck, so you're goooood little yeasties…"

What's not to like? At about $100 in startup costs and around 30 clams per batch, homebrew sets you back only a few cents per bottle further than Natural Light. And really, what would you rather drink? On one hand, you have your own personal brew, hand-forged in the welcome depths of your own personal brewery. On the other hand… you have Natty Light. The choice, loyal reader, is clear.

I've only been brewing nine months, but they've been great months and I want to share my joy with you. Thus, consider this my invitation to the noble art of homebrew. To sweeten the deal, I offer an incentive: Anyone who contacts me about their new (or old) hobby will discover instant fame within the paragraphs of this very column. Happy brewing.

CADE GRUNST sincerely hopes someone is honestly foolish enough to give him free beer. Show him what you've got at cade@ucdavis.edu.