BYO Blogs

When I was new to good beer (circa the early 1990s) pale ales were my gateway beer to quality ales broadly. (This was back when I was thrilled if a bar in New York City had Sierra Nevada on tap.) Pales are approachable with moderate alcohol content and, typically, are well-balanced. And, early on they were the standard bearer of the craft beer movement, often serving as many breweries flagship ale. They’ve long since been supplanted by India Pale Ale as the style every brewery has in its line up.

As so-called extreme beers exploded on the scene, pales came to seem insufficiently assertive. I know my palate changed to crave bigger, bolder beers. (And I don’t think I’m alone). And with that change pale ales could often seem lacking, certainly in hop content but in body and size as well.

And that’s a shame because the style is as refined as any. Pales come in a great variety that appeals to a broad range of tastes. Depending on what a brewer chooses to emphasize, they can be assertively hopped (they’re often dry-hopped) to showcase the bitter, bright hoppy side of things or can focus on malt sweetness, with some examples expressing caramel sweetness. As a home brewer pales are ideal. They can be fine-tuned to fit your individual preference and taste buds. Their moderate alcohol content makes them somewhat sessionable, which is useful when you’ve got a basement full of beer.

A pale ale I recently tasted reminded me that I once loved the style. And that reminder also made me realize I’d never brewed one. I’d gone right to IPA and overlooked pales altogether.

I got hit with a virus the other day. No, not my computer – me.

Like a light switch, one second I was fine, the next I thought, “I don’t feel so great.” Chills, shakes, joint pain, back pain, queasiness and the inevitable vomit followed. As did two days of general malaise – lack of appetite, upset stomach, lots of uncomfortable sleep, no sensitivity in my taste buds.

It was so bad that at one point I said to my wife, “I can’t even imagine drinking a beer right now.”

“Wow,” she responded, “now I know how sick you are.” (I assume she was talking about the virus).

I brewed my BIPA #2 on a recent Monday when I was off from work. I worked the next two days and in my distraction never looked in on my beer. Ridiculous, I know. But when I checked it Thursday there was only the most minimal sign of fermentation. Did it never kick off? Did I miss it completely? What’s going on?

A gravity reading revealed that it was fermenting. The gravity had dropped from 1.081 to 1.031. Things were in fact well underway. Satisfied that it was humming along, I let it be for a couple more days. When I next checked, it was down to 1.023. A few days later it was still around 1.023 so I decided to rack to my secondary and dry-hop.

Dry hopping with Amarillo (you say, “am-uh-rill-oh,” I say “ahm-ah-ree-yo”) went smoothly and I was happy with my gravity readings but I was concerned about how less active the fermentation was. Last time my fermenter was a glorious mess – oozing krausen and splattering brown gooeyness all over the airlock and lid. This time, there were no raging bubbles, no excitement and definitely no mess.

I’m guessing I did not achieve the desired attenuation. I just re-read the directions on the vial of San Diego Super Strain (WLP090). It suggests an activator for beers with original gravity over 1.070 and my BIPA #2 was 1.081. But my yeast lab (read: disorganized heap of home brew supplies piled on a basement shelf) doesn't contain any activator. I've never used an activator, don’t know how to make a starter and can barely control temperature, much less when I pitch. But I didn't use one last time either so … who knows, maybe all will be well once it’s carbonated?

Now that I’ve gone black, I may never go back … to regular IPA, that is. I liked the Black IPA I just brewed so much that I’m brewing it again right away. I’m tweaking it ever so slightly, however. I’m going to dry-hop with Amarillo instead of Citra to see what effect that has on the final product.

My brew day kicked off smoothly. I dropped my daughter off at school, rushed home and threw the kettle on, so to speak. The 75 minute boil started out fine and then … well, let’s just say, it didn’t finish perfectly.

My specialty grains steeped at 150°F for half an hour, turning the water a lovely deep brown color. Alas, that color may have led to my eventual error. But first, an ounce of Warrior hops went in at 75 minutes. Smelling them reminded me of my prior version of this and I got excited all over again. This was going to be as good as the last. I was going to perfect this beer and be a Black IPA-drinking fool. This might even become my year-round beer. “I got this,” I thought. “This is going to be a smooth brew day producing a smooth brew.” And that was my problem – I relaxed.

The Irish moss was due at 30 minutes. And so it was that at 45 minutes into my boil I finally realized that I’d never added my extract. Seven pounds of liquid malt and a pound of DME were sitting on a shelf in my basement just waiting to be added to the pot. And what was I doing? Fantasizing about what a great brewer I’d become, dreaming of going all-malt, opening my own brewery…. And all the while I hadn’t even added the most significant ingredient to the mix. I basically was trying to make a beer without mashing in.