Justin Burnsed

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Posted by Justin Burnsed on Monday, 19 April 2010 in Brew School

Unbeknownst to me as a homebrewer, there is a technique you can employ that will explain about 90% of the issues you will face as a professional brewer. As Dr. Charlie Bamforth put it multiple times this week, you can simply “blame the maltster”. It appears that this is a bit of an industry joke that has been handed down for generations. I’m guessing it began way back in Europe somewhere, when a brewer had a hard time knowing if the shipment of malt that just landed on their doorstep was going to have any resemblance to the last one they got. With the advent of modern day malthouses and the array of tests that can be done by both parties involved, I’m sure that excuse loses a bit of merit these days.

I mention this because our focus in Week 2 was on barley and malting. Considering malted barley is the largest contributer to beer flavor, I definitely see the importance of knowing it inside and out. The process of modification was by far the most important concept that we went over this week. This term refers to the level at which the maltster has allowed the grain to germinate. They accomplish this by alternating a series of steeps in water with air rests to hydrate the kernel, followed by a few days where the grain is placed in a temperature/humidity controlled vessel and allowed to think it’s going to one day be a plant. During this process, the cell walls of the starchy endosperm break down and make available the amylose/amylopectin that the enzymes alpha and beta amylase (conveniently located in the malt as well) convert to fermentable and non-fermentable sugars during mashing. Trying to brew with under modified malt will result in an array of issues that can include poor fermentability, grainy flavors, and an overly viscous wort. Now I see why they used to blame the maltster.

This week we also got to know a few of the aromas that can arise when something isn’t going as planned and some of the compounds that are responsible for them. Needless to say there were the usual suspects, such as Diacetyl (buttery), DMS (cooked corn) and Lightstruck (skunky). Let me tell you those are the least of your worries after smelling some of the others. You better hope that none of your beers ever have any perceivable levels of the following: Isovaleric (vomit), Chlorophenol (bleach), Caprylic (the inside of a barn) or the class favorite, Catty (yep, it smells like cat pee). We were also informed that next week, we get to start tasting as well. I really hope some of those aromas don’t translate to flavor. Yuck.

Sue Langstaff, the sensory scientist conducting this part of the class proclaimed that we would all be “highly trained sensory tools” by the time she was done with us. Needless to say, we all glanced at each other and laughed a bit after hearing that. Being a tool of any kind has never be too high on my list of aspirations, but in this case I think I can make an exception. It’s an important skill that will give us the ability to identify defects, what causes them, and make the necessary changes in the brewhouse to correct the problem.

I guess the flip side to that is you could accentuate one of those characteristics if you really wanted to. In theory, you could intentionally make a beer with high levels of diacetyl and call it Movie Night or An Ode to Orville Redenbacher. Then you could drink your buttered popcorn instead of eating it! I think there’s a fairly good chance that won’t make my personal list of future brews, but I wouldn’t be shocked if one of you daring souls out there have already taken a crack at it. As ridiculous as that may sound to some people, it’s the experimentation aspect of this hobby that makes it so much fun for many of us and that’s why we love it. Just as long as you don’t try to replicate the texture of popcorn in the beer...

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Last modified on Monday, 11 February 2013

Justin Burnsed

My desire to make my own barley-based creations was first born from discovery as a consumer. I started by cutting my teeth on malt beverages that probably would have tasted better if I had ate the brown paper bag it came in as a food pairing. I quickly learned that the world of beer has so much more to offer, and it wasn’t long before I started getting funny looks for showing up to beachside bonfires in Ventura County, CA with the likes of Pilsner Urquell, Samuel Adams Double Bock and many other beers that contained high quality ingredients and were made with superior craftsmanship.

This carried on during my stint at Cal State Chico, which is of course the home of the Sierra Nevada Brewery. After a few visits and many pints of the various styles they produced, I had a new appreciation for local, fresh beer. My curiosity as to how it was made was beginning to grow. In 2003, I finished college and was fortunate enough to land a job in another great beer producing area — San Diego. It was there that my homebrewing journey began. Little did I know at the time that a tub of malt extract and one addition of hops was not going to yield what I had gotten used to at school. The good news was that the early stuff ended up being drinkable and nobody went blind from it. The not so bad news was that I had a lot to learn.

Over the course of the next five years I brewed once every couple months and was slowly getting better at it, mostly from trial and error. In 2008 my time of working at a desk job came to a screeching halt and I found myself taking hard look at what I wanted in life. I realized one of the things that makes me the happiest is putting together a recipe, making it with my own two hands and seeing the smile on someone’s face when I share it with them. This motivated me to start brewing much more frequently and make various upgrades in equipment to support all-grain batches.

One day while flipping through a brewing magazine, I discovered the UC-Davis Master Brewers Program and quickly realized this could be my shot at getting into the professional side of brewing. My main objective in writing this blog is to give you a weekly account of my experiences and observations during this 18-week program and what one can expect upon completion. Perhaps it will inspire you to one day brew your own — and get paid for it!