Saturday, January 21, 2012

Kvasir

I just bottled a gallon of mead I started on October 12. It spent three weeks in the primary fermenter, then went into a "secondary" on November 22.

My first batch of mead was a little disappointing--- not bad by any means, but disappointing. It was a little too dry, and there was a yeastiness that never really went away. Of course, we drank all of it before it was six months old, so it might have gotten a little less yeasty had I let it age more. I wanted this second batch to be a little sweeter, and I wanted a little more fruit flavour.

I tried a couple variations this time:

  • I kept the same honey-to-water ratio: three pounds of honey to one gallon of water.
  • I boiled neither the water nor the honey; I heated the water to 145 F, removed it from heat, and stirred in the honey.
  • I chopped two frozen strawberries and threw it in the must before I pitched yeast, just like last time.
  • This time I used ale yeast, instead of champagne yeast. I figured it would leave a sweeter mead, and it looks like I was right.
  • When I racked into the secondary, I put some pineapple cores I'd stored in the freezer. I suppose it was about one pineapple's worth of core.
  • I primed it the same way: two tablespoons sugar boiled in a little less than half a cup of water.

I ended up with a half-filled bottle when all was said and done, so that's gone into a glass I've been sipping. It's incredible. I'm thinking this one will be called "Skald's Muse".

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Pocket knives

A friend of mine gave me a pocket-knife several years ago: a Spyderco Endura. Very shortly after I started carrying that knife, I realized why so many of my friends carry knives around. It's just too convenient to have a sharp blade every where you go.

Of course I don't mean it's as weapon. I know a lot of silly people think that: the sorts of silly people that are afraid of guns, big dogs, and their own shadows. The fact is, a sharp knife is one of the most useful tools you can have in your pocket. I find myself needing a sharp blade several times a week.

I carried that Endura everywhere I went (excepting airports: I had to put it in my checked bags every time I flew). That finally came to an end last summer, when it fell out of my pocket at my sister's house and I was unable to find it. She found it a couple weeks after I came back here, but I've not had a chance to go home since August. Next time I'm on the Island I'll claim it.

Of course, that doesn't help me now. I've a backup knife my brother-in-law gave me just before we left the East coast. It's a Browning, but I have no idea what the model is.

From Pocket Knives

The problem is, the Browning is just not a comfortable knife. It's a little block-ish in my pocket, and the clip's a little loose, no matter how I've tried to tighten it. And the knife has a liner lock; I just don't like liner locks.

So I've never really warmed up to that knife.

I started thinking about a replacement for my Endura, and I finally settled on the Cold Steel Rajah III. It's a nice little knife: a folding version of their Kukri. The blade is curved with the sharp edge on the inside. It's only 3 1/2 inches long, but it's very broad. I've always wanted a kukri: this is the closest I was likely to get.

But when my sister found the Endura, I sort of shelved my replacement plans.

But this last Christmas, my buddy handed me a package from Cold Steel. Now that's a true friend.

From Pocket Knives

I've been carrying the Rajah for a couple weeks now, and it's been a great knife. There are some down-sides: it's a little heavy for an every day carry. Not ridiculously heavy, just heavy enough that you can't quite forget it's there. In fact, it's a little bigger than my Browning, but it does feel better.

From Pocket Knives

But aside from its weight, the Rajah is my favourite knife. I love the broad blade, the deep belly, and the drop point. Let's be honest, this is a beautiful knife. Actually, it looks like something Galadriel would give a hobbit.

Still, when I get my Endura back, I think it'll go back to its place as my primary carry knife. It's not that I like it better than the Rajah, but I think the narrower blade and the less bulky haft make it a lot more practical for every day use. But honestly, if I ever end up lost in the wilderness, I think the Rajah's what I want in my pocket.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

I know he can get the job...

My parents gave me a gift card to Amazon. I've always got a few items in my cart there, so it's always appreciated.

I just received a DVD I ordered, Joe versus the Volcano. I am quite convinced this is among the best films ever made, perhaps the best.

It's not that there's an incredibly complex plot: the story is remarkably simple. It's not that it's terribly humorous: there are a lot of great one-liners, but the whole is much greater than the sum of the parts. This movie is great because it tells a simple story very well. And it does so effortlessly.

Most people I've known who've seen this movie didn't like it. I understand that: it's a movie that's not easy to classify, which means it's hard to know what to expect. The first time I saw it, I wasn't sure what I thought. The second time, I was convinced it was brilliant.

The story is about Joe, a hypochondriac with a dead-end job in a depressing factory. His boss is an idiot, his co-workers are lifeless, and he's miserable. Then his doctor tells him he really is sick: he'll be dead in six months. So Joe quits his job. The next day, he's approached by an insane business man who offers to pay for him to live like a king, if he'll jump into a volcano in one month. Seeing no real point to his life, Joe agrees.

The story follows Joe on his journey to a small south Pacific island with an enormous volcano, into which he's planning to jump. Joe meets several memorable characters: the limousine driver who teaches him how to dress, the salesman obsessed with luggage, and the spoiled daughter of the businessman paying Joe. The characters are brilliantly done: drawn in bold strokes, but very simply. Each feels like a real person.

Ultimately, its Joe's journey to find a purpose for his life. He quits his job, goes shopping, sails to the South Pacific, is shipwrecked, and finds the best luggage in the world.

If you've not seen the movie, I recommend you watch it. If you've only seen it once, you need to watch it a second time. It's not the sort of thing you can really grasp the first time. To me, this is one of those movies that comes out of nowhere and stuns me. It's funny, quirky, a little strange, and a little exciting. The acting is great, the story is interesting despite its simplicity, and the characters are convincing. The photography is captivating; there is a whole host of symbols and images that appear and reappear through the movie. Well worth the $5 on Amazon.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

2011 Beers in Review

I made my first home-brew in January 2011. So it's been almost a year. I didn't even come close to the legal limit of 200 gallons per year: maybe 2012 will be better. I learned a lot about grains and yeast this last year, and I hope for many more opportunities to apply that knowledge.

The first batch was "Cronin," made with my buddy Caleb. That was our only extract batch: we made it with 8 pounds of Pilsener extract, a pound of chocolate malt, and a pound of turbinado. It was our first batch, and it had all the adventure a first batch should have. It ended up way too sweet, and we bottled it with far too much sugar and yeast. The bottles were way too carbonated, but we didn't actually have any explode. I think I have one bottle left.

From Brew Day: Opening Cronin

After Cronin we made "Lawnmower" with the yeast we had left-over from Cronin. Lawnmower was our first all-grain beer, and it was a simple recipe of two-row barley, crystal 60, and blackberries. It turned out far dryer than we expected, and very unevenly carbonated. Some bottles were all but flat, some spewed foam all over the kitchen. We only made two-and-a-half gallons of Lawnmower, which might have been a mistake. It was just starting to mellow to a nice beer when we finished the batch.

From Lawnmower

After Lawnmower, I made a solo batch I called "Old Woolen Shirt". It was an attempt at an Irish Red, and it wasn't half bad. Again, I found my carbonation levels were uneven. I ended up giving almost none of it away, as it was too unpredictable. I did make a second batch of Woolen Shirt later in the summer, which turned out a lot better.

From Woolen Shirt
From Woolen Shirt

On the heels of Woolen Shirt, I took a recipe I dreamed up with my friend Greg: "Greg and Mark's Amber Wheat." It was the worst beer I've made to date, but that's really due more to the execution than the recipe. It was thin, too dry, and too hoppy. The hops and malt were totally out of balance, it lacked mouthfeel, and it just wasn't what I had wanted to make. I think that one needs another go.

After Amber Wheat came another attempt at Lawnmower (this time with raspberries instead of blackberries), and a Belgian-like wheat beer we called "Toad". Toad was our first attempt at a beer with spices in it: we used cinnamon and nutmeg. Toad was a hit with everyone who tried it, but when I opened my last bottle (a few months later), I thought the cinnamon and nutmeg really over-powered the beer.

In the fall I bought an outdoor burner and inaugurated it with my first Dry Stout: "Rainy Season Stout". I think RSS is my best beer to date, but it's honestly pretty hard to mess up a stout. That was the first five-gallon batch I made since Cronin, and I think it's an improvement. With the smaller batches it's just too easy to run out.

In November I brewed a brown ale with a couple co-workers. It went well as far as execution, but I'm reluctantly concluding I'm not a real fan of the final product. I think I dislike the taste of Carapils Dextrine malt. This is the second time I've used it, and both times the final beer had a flavour I don't like. I want to retry that recipe without the dextrine (perhaps replacing the carapils with Maris Otter?) and see how it goes. I suspect I'll like that a lot better.

My final beer of the year is still in the fermenter: I made a batch of something vaguely Belgian on my week off for Christmas. This one is ten pounds of Pilsener malt, one pound of Special B, and a pound of palm sugar. I have high hopes for this beer, although it's far too early to tell how it'll turn out. I ended up with too much volume on this one: from now on I think I'll stick to 90-minute boils.

What have I learned in my first year as a home-brewer? First, I learned that it's just too much fun making beer. It takes a lot of patience, but there's a lot of joy in opening a bottle of something you made yourself and serving it to guests.

Second, I realized that I'm making beer a lot cheaper than I can buy it. Even including the cost of "failed" batches, it's way cheaper to brew than to buy: I'm somewhere in the realm of $4 per gallon. That's just ridiculous.

Third, the challenge of brewing is much more complicated than cooking. When you cook, you can add flavours directly; but when you brew, the flavours are harder to predict. If you think a beer should taste sweeter, you need to consider that it is boiled, then fermented, then conditioned before it's tasted. In cooking, sweeter can be achieved with sugar, honey, or the like. In beer, the fermentation will remove most or all sweetness, so you need to add something you think will increase sweetness after it's been boiled, fermented, and conditioned. The correct ingredient can be counter-intuitive.

Finally, I realized this can be a terribly obsessive hobby. I honestly make a good deal more beer than I drink. I suspect I drink less now than before I brewed. I find a lot more pleasure producing than consuming, and serve most of my beer to guests. That's not to say I don't drink, but my consumption seems to have dropped with brewing. I notice a lot of people online who've invested thousands into their "home breweries". I refuse to do that, but I'm starting to appreciate why they do. Precision with temperatures. volumes, and so forth can be a tricky problem to solve: a lot of brewers solve them electronically, which entails a significant cost.

I keep budget down largely by selecting styles that arose from less controlled environments. I personally don't like lagers all that much, so that eliminates the most expensive projects. I prefer the flavours of Belgian and British ales: Belgian yeast tends to like warm ferments, so that makes it easier on the temperature controls; British ales are frequently drunk young, so there's a reduced exposure to variations.

But in the end, it's all about having fun. I enjoy brewing, and most of the beers I make are at least decent, some are even good. I'm still working on producing one that's excellent.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Back to it

Working in higher ed has a lot of frustrations and aggravations that just come with the territory, but there are some definite perks. One is that my place of work basically shuts down for a little over a week every Christmas. That didn't prevent me getting called a couple times when the campus was "closed", but I still ended up with more than a week off.

It was a nice break: I made some beer, played the guitar and mandolin, cooked, read a little, and watched some movies.

I've been reading The Coming Prince by Sir Robert Anderson: it's well worth the effort.

I might try and actually finish more books this year: it seems I'm about 75% done a dozen books at any given time, and most just end up back on my bookshelf without my actually crossing the finish line.

Every year, my sister Shan sends me something cool for Christmas. Shan's what I might call a very gifted giver. She has a knack for finding that perfect thing you didn't know you wanted. She made my Bodum Cozy, she gave me the CD of Dylan Thomas reading "A Child's Christmas in Wales," and she gave me her own copy of The Grand Sophy. This year she gave me a copy of the BBC's adaptation of North and South.

Yesterday one of the kids was sick and I wasn't feeling the best, so we popped the new DVDs into the player, expecting to watch one of the four episodes. We watched them all in one sitting. Shan describes the story as "Pride and Prejudice for grown-ups." Is it my favourite 19th Century book adaptation? I don't know... I'll need to watch it a couple more times. It's definitely in the running.

I think I prefer it to BBC's famous and brilliant Pride and Prejudice adaptation, solely on the grounds that it is visually more pleasing. The P&P miniseries was really very well done, but the DVDs are awful: they're washed out and colourless. (I hear the Blu-ray version really is much better.) But I'm very fond of the 2009 version of Emma. I don't know if the melancholy brilliance of N&S can possibly overcome the much more cheerful--- but not totally insipid--- E.

Here's a question, if it's not insipid, does that mean it's "sipid"?

Finally, my neighbour bought me the Lord of the Rings, Extended Edition on Blu-ray last summer. We had said we'd watch them together, and we're still not finished. It's hard finding times when we're both free. We've made it through The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers. We were supposed to watch The Return of the King on New Year's Eve, but we got pre-empted.

This is a time when the "new and improved" really is. I watched the same sequences both on the older DVD version and the Blu-ray version, and I can actually see the difference. For example, the threads in Frodo's cloak are plainly visible.

Tomorrow it's back to work. Back to Perl and Java and Unix and Lisp and Spring and Hibernate and email and Oracle and GWT. I'm not really depressed by the thought, but it's been nice to get away from it for a while.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Back to real life

Well, 2011 is over and done. I was just starting to get fond of it.

Today being the first Sunday of the month, there was "eating at the meeting". We never made it all the way in: one of the kids was sick, so we turned tail and ran before we actually got to the hall. Of course I didn't know that yesterday; I finished 2011 barbecuing some chicken to take this morning. I must say the chicken looked pretty good.

From New Year's Eve 2011

On a more celebratory and seasonal note, my neighbour got hold of a rib roast and had us grill it for New Year's. I've never done a standing rib roast before, so I approached this task with some fear and trepidation, with my neighbour documenting the whole thing on my camera.

The roast was pre-seasoned, so I suppose I had it slightly easy. On the other hand, I've no idea how to reproduce the roast.

From New Year's Eve 2011

We started out by searing the roast on all sides.

From New Year's Eve 2011
From New Year's Eve 2011
From New Year's Eve 2011

Once properly seared, the roast was left on the grill with a drip pan under it. We kept the temperature between 270F and 350F. The roast was done in a little under four hours.

From New Year's Eve 2011

I took the roast off when the thermometer registered 138F. The temperature climbed to 145F over the next half-hour or so, which is a perfect medium rare.

The only real problem was, I had anticipated the roast taking a good hour or hour-and-a-half longer; so it sat out more than an hour before we carved it. But I needn't have worried. It all turned out fine.

To be perfectly honest, I've not been a huge fan of prime rib: I've always preferred either a roast (with Yorkshire pudding, of course) or a steak. But I have to say that this little adventure has piqued my interest. This is a little project I'd like to try again.

Best of all, Ames made her amazing potatoes gratin. Ah.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Home-brewin'

I've had some time off, so I took the opportunity for some more home brewing. I thought I'd share some photos from the most recent endeavour, along with some comments on the process.

I recently purchased some gear for brewing: a 42 quart stock pot and a propane burner. Hitherto I've been brewing on the stove in a 21 quart pot, which had three limitations:

  1. I couldn't boil more than about five gallons in the 21 quart pot
  2. our poor stove couldn't really push 21 quarts to a full boil
  3. our stove, being electric, doesn't really give the instant heat needed for timely temperature adjustments
By moving to a 42 quart pot, we've increased our maximum boil volume to between seven and eight gallons; by moving to a propane burner, we've solved the sufficient power and "instant heat" problems.

From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout

In general terms, brewing involves taking some combination of grain, water, yeast, and hops and creating beer. The lifecycle of beer creation more-or-less follows the grain:

  1. grain must be malted, which means it's germinated, then the germinated grain is cooked to form malt
  2. malt is milled in a grain mill to produce grist, which is crushed grains (not flour)
  3. grist must be mashed so that the starches in the grist are converted to fermentable (and non-fermentable) sugars, producing sweet liquor
  4. sweet liquor is boiled with hops, seasonings (spices, etc.), and adjuncts (non-malt fermentables like molasses, honey, or turbinado) to form wort
  5. wort is fermented with yeast(s) to form beer
So we malt the grain, mill the malt, mash the grist, boil the sweet liquor, and ferment the wort.

Most brewers don't malt grains on their own. Almost every home brew store will carry a significant selection of malted grains, which are ready to be mashed. Some home brewers prefer not to mash the grains themselves, purchasing malt extract, which is essentially concentrated sweet liquor. Some go a step further, purchasing hopped malt extract, which is basically concentrated wort. I personally do what is called "all grain brewing": I buy malted grains, mill them in the store, and mash them at home to create the sweet liquor for my beer. My local home brew store carries an impressive selection of malts and offers free milling for malts purchased there.

There is a terrible divide in the brewing community (especially online) between those who brew with extracts and those who brew "all grain". It is true that "all grain" brewing requires more time and equipment, but it's also true that brewing with grains allows a great deal more fine-tuning of flavours than extracts. My decision to brew "all grain" is based on two factors:

  1. where I live, it's significantly cheaper to buy malted grains than to buy extract
  2. I think it's more fun to mash grains than to use extract.
Not everyone agrees with me, which is OK. I've had some excellent extract and partial-extract (i.e. mashing some grain and boiling with extract) beers. I've also had excellent all-grain beers. If you're having fun and you're liking the beer you make, you're doing it right.

Mashing grains is essentially the process of kicking the enzymes in the grains into action so that they digest the starches in the grains and produce sugars. Some of the sugars are fermentable, some are not. It's possible to control this process in order to produce the desire combination of fermentable and non-fermentable sugars by controlling the mash temperature. Mashing is typically done between 145 and 170 degrees Fahrenheit. In general terms, lower mash temperatures produce more fermentable sugars. So a Pilsener, which is very dry, is mashed much cooler than a fruity ale. There are other factors, but mash temperature is a great driver of the sweetness or dryness of the finished beer.

Mashing requires a vessel in which to mash, a mash tun. This is essentially a vessel large enough to hold the grist to be mashed, plus sufficient water (typically one-and-a-half quarts of water per pound of grist) for the mashing. The tun holds the mash (water + grist) at a more-or-less constant temperature for the mash schedule (usually an hour). After mashing, the mash is lautered, which means the grist is separated from the sweet liquor. Part of lautering is sparging, or rinsing the grains with fresh water to ensure all the sugars end up in the liquor, rather than stuck to the discarded grains.

A few years ago, some Australians started a new technique, "brew in a bag." This is really cool: rather than having a dedicated mash/lauter tun, you put a strainer bag right into your brew kettle, mash in the kettle, and then lauter (strain) your sweet liquor by lifting the bag out of the kettle. This saves both time and money (you don't have to buy a separate tun), but it arguably makes less clear beer.

I still don't have a mash tun, so I work more-or-less with the BIAB concept. That kind of backfired on me the last brew day, so I ended up modifying it a bit... Ames and I sewed up a pretty cool grain bag for BIAB last month. I wanted to use it with my new pot, but it just wasn't big enough. I tried putting the bag inside the steamer basket that came with the pot, but it didn't sit low enough for the grist to get a good soak.

From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
Then I tried putting it directly into the pot, but it just wasn't big enough.
From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
I finally gave in and mashed the grist plus four gallons of water in my older 21 quart pot
From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
That was the maximum capacity of that pot.

From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
We mixed the grist into the water to form a really thick porridge and let it sit at 133 Fahrenheit for 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, we raised the temperature to 156 Fahrenheit (constantly stirring so as not to scorch the grist), and let it sit for another 90 minutes. After 90 minutes we raised the temperature to 167 Fahrenheit (again stirring constantly) and let it sit another 15 minutes.

From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout

For the sparge, we heated another four gallons of water to 170 Fahrenheit in the larger pot. After the final 15-minute stage of the mash (the "mash out"), we pulled the grain bag out of the smaller pot and immersed it in the fresh four gallons. We stirred it around and let it set for a while to ensure all the sweet liquor was rinsed from the grains, then pulled the bag out of the larger pot, laid a grate across the pot, and let is rest on the grate to drain. After several minutes, when the bag was almost completely drained, we put it into a basin to finish draining and began the boil. The bag drained for a little while longer into the basin, and after several minutes we poured another cup or so into the boil kettle.

The boil is the simplest part of the process. The only really thing to watch for is the boil-over, which is only really a danger in the first few minutes.

From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
Foam does form on the surface, when it breaks up and the liquid is visible again, it's time to put in hops.

The hop additions define the timeline. Hops vary in flavour, colour, and "alpha acid" content. Alpha acid is what makes hops bitter, but it needs to be converted by boiling. As hops boil, they lose their aroma and flavour, and become more bitter. So hops added earlier in the boil contribute more bitterness; hops added later add more flavour and aroma. I generally boil for an hour: the first hop addition is the bittering hops, which boil for the full hour.

We made a stout this time, I saved the recipe on hopville.com. I wrote the recipe, but I did a lot of looking at other recipes to figure it out. So... it's more or less my recipe, but I did certainly refer to many others. This recipe calls for two hop additions: one ounce of Northern Brewer hops at 60 minutes, one ounce of Goldings at 30 minutes.

From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout

So we added our Northern Brewer hops and set the timer for an hour.

From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
Hops need to be stirred in, they float pretty outrageously.
From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout

After the boil is done, there is a flurry of activity. You need to chill the wort as quickly as possible, get it into a fermenter, and get yeast into it. The yeast doesn't like temperatures over 90 Fahrenheit, and prefers to be in the mid-seventies. But cooling five gallons of boiling hot sugar water is difficult. I use a friend's wort chiller, essentially a copper coil that runs cold water through the wort.

This is where you need to play the sanitation game. Wort is the perfect environment for nasties to grow. It's pretty hard to make something dangerous to drink: the alcohol in beer is a decent preservative. But it's possible to get infections in your beer that make it undrinkably nasty. So you use sanitizer. I use iodophor, but there are others. Essentially you need to sanitize anything that touches your wort after the boil: the fermenter, any thermometers, hydrometers, tubing, filters, strainers, or spoons. It's not as annoying as it sounds, but it does require going slowly and carefully.

So in our last batch, we used a strainer bag to filter the hops, then filled a plastic fermenter with our wort. Once the wort was cooled, we put a package of dry yeast into the wort, covered the fermenter, and put an airlock on it.

It's now beer: it's been fermenting a couple days now. A lot of home brewers use two fermenters with their beer. They'll let the beer go for a week or two in a plastic fermenter, then siphon it into a glass carboy and let it ferment another week or so. I've personally been satisfied to just leave my beer in one vessel for four weeks or so, then bottle it directly. People fight a lot about this online: I've done it both ways and I prefer the simpler approach of leaving it in a single vessel for longer.

When I go to bottle it, I'll boil a little sugar in some water, add it to the beer, and siphon it into bottles. The added sugar kicks off fermentation in the bottle, which will carbonate it in the bottle. It'll take another three weeks (or so) for it to carbonate. So... it should take a total of seven weeks to make a finished product.

Not all batches are ready to drink on schedule. Higher alcohol beers take longer to mature and really become drinkable; beers with harsh flavours can also do well with some extra time. I'm not completely sure at this point which ones take longer and which ones will be ready when they're young. I'm hoping this batch is ready for the Christmas break, but I might be disappointed. I've got plenty of bottles from earlier batches, so it's not like I'll be desperate for beer; but I think a nice stout will be pleasant for wet and rainy days. I suppose I should actually post a review when I can taste it.

So that's an overview of home brewing. I've been enjoying making my own brew. In fact, I've been making a lot more than I've been drinking. I suppose that's not a bad thing. I've been hoarding the home-brewed for the holidays, and I'm expecting I'll have to do some serious brew sessions early next year to replenish the stock. We'll see.

UPDATE 2011-11-06

I brewed this beer on Thursday. Today's Sunday, and the activity on the fermentation lock's dropped off. That doesn't mean a whole lot, but it's a hint that the bulk of the fermentation's complete. My experience with this particular yeast (Nottingham Ale Yeast by Danstar) is that it ferments pretty aggressively and finishes quickly.

Today the fermenter looks like this:

From Brew Day: Rainy Season Stout
I used a plastic fermenter for this, so you can't see a lot in detail, but the silhouette of the contents is significant. The top layer, that looks sort of foamy, is the result of krausen. Krausen is a layer of foam that's generated by vigourous fermentation, early in the fermentation process. Krausen dissipates, but it leaves this residue, which is a bitter and foul-tasting scum. This is a good sign. Below the krausen ring is the actual beer. Under the beer is trub, which is the leftovers from fermentation. The trub contains proteins from the grains and hops, spent yeast, and various other fermentation by-products. When it comes time to bottle the beer, we'll siphon it off the trub so that only the middle layer makes it into the bottles.

Yeast flocculates--- or settles to the bottom--- when it's done. I typically "wash" the yeast, rinsing it from the rest of they trub and beer so that I can use it again. I generally get three batches of beer from a yeast purchase. There's still a great deal of yeast in suspension, even after a month. That's the yeast that will carbonate the beer in the bottle.

Although we technically have beer at this stage, it's incredibly young and "green". This beer needs to age at least another couple weeks before bottling. In my experience, you can bottle just fine after only two weeks in the fermenter, but the beer will require more time in the bottle to condition. I've decided it's easier to leave it a full month in the fermenter, as it doesn't make it drinkable any faster to bottle it sooner. Even though the majority of the fermentation is done, there is a lot more "cleaning up" the yeast will do to produce a cleaner, clearer beer. This is a stout, so we're not really looking for "clear" as in "see through", but the more stuff settles out, the better it's going to taste.