Beer!

So this is a post that was worthy of being posted sometime like a week before christmas. Me and my father made beer, which I may have mentioned before.

Our cider was mediocre at it's highest point. Our beer was all gone in like 2 weeks. We made something like 25 litres, so that statistic is high testament to it's deliciousness. Sadly, it's all over now, but that doesn't stop the promise of the next batch, which will be concocted this evening. Slightly more ambitious in our maturing, we have decided to approach a double oatmeal stout this round, but will be making another batch of the same pale ale as well. This means more beer, almost 50 litres! There shall be a party had by all.

In looking back on our beer, and in light of circumstances this evening, which required me to play MD on a particularly yeasty beast now residing in my fridge, I'm happy. Not only did we successfully create a great beer in our basement, we did it for exceedingly cheap, and even used the garbage. After the beer was a completed endeavor, racked off into bottles to sit, carbonate and get funky, there is an odd sludge remaining at the base of the carboy in which it ferments. This is known as "lees" in wine, though I'm sure beer culture as another more elegant word for it. I decided to see if I could feed it. And feed it I did. And now, An organism lives in my fridge, and takes part in my bread.

A beer starter must be a common enough thing for people to have, but I feel honoured by its presence. Its nice to have something that totally relies on you for survival. Starters need feeding, you see, in the form of water and flour. Today I had to bring it back from the edge of extinction. In all my excitement over the thrill of new years, I had totally neglected my newfound pet. It was shivering, hunched in a corner of the fridge, barely bubbling, almost decrepit. I felt instantly responsible, like if it died, somehow it would be like killing a cat through neglect. How am I ever going to forage the wilds with a trusty wolfhound at my side if I can barely accomplish keeping a starter alive. Currently, it's gorging itself on a pile of flour, and sitting on top of the stove with the oven on, for a little warmth, get things percolating, as it were. Anyways, enough about that.

If this sort of thing gets you going, or you particularly enjoy making the idea or ideals of making bread, please watch that Tartine video in the last post, and possibly even buy his book. Another great little tome on the subject is Sourdough: A recipe for life, by Erin Turcke. I got this handy little edition off of Paul Harber at Ravine Vineyards in Niagara. He's a maniac, and his polemic about Erin being a fellow maniac was enough for me. Here is how much he wanted her on his team. She was baking somewhere else. He said "what do I have to do to get you here?" She said, "build me a brick oven", possibly as a bit of a joke, because it seemed unlikely she was going to make the move or something. He called her when he had it built and she came. Almost biblical, really. Build it and they will come. Moving on, her book is awesome, soulful and chipper to a fault, and very right. It's not at all measurements or anything, mostly feelings and a bit of insight into the process. Very intuitive. Hard to teach that, I suppose.

So, beer and bread, together at last, just like every day in thousands of places all over the world. Hope you enjoy. Happy risings if you decide to make some.