On overcoming frustration

As I stood watching and waiting for the beer to swirl down the drain in the shed, I was proud of the deep caramel colour. It damn near glowed in the sink, illuminated by the light that shone through the window. Holding the bottle upside down, and seeing the final few drips cling to the lip in helpless desperation, a little pang of sadness crept up on me. Actually, not really sadness, maybe more frustration. Because whilst the colour was gorgeous, what I wasn’t proud of was the taste.

This was Evie’s Special Bitter, the ESB that, when bottled, gave off that unmistakable green apple smell. After ten weeks in the bottle I wrote the following notes:

Evie’s Special Bitter remains somewhat of an enigma. After 10 weeks in the bottle it remains flat and lifeless, a limp excuse for a bitter, and is far too fruity. I maintain the faintest glimmer of hope that it will resurrect itself, like a homebrew version of John Travolta in Pulp Fiction, showing life where previously there has been little more than a flat-line, mocking with its unflinching blandness. But truth be told, I think I’m just fooling myself.

And fooling myself I was. Now, after six months in the bottle, it’s still no good. Barely drinkable. I tipped out most of the batch a few weeks ago, frustrated. But the frustration didn’t end there. I also tipped out the last few bottles of The Doc Wheat Beer that was brewed just before Christmas. It came out ok initially; it was a wheat beer, unmistakably. But the finish, that homebrew tang that lingered in your mouth, just could not be shaken. And after persevering with most of the batch, I’d simply had enough, and the last few bottles followed the ESB down the sink.

I went back through my notes, to see if I could pinpoint what went wrong, and, to my relief, found that these were the two brews that were fermented inside the house as opposed to in the temperature controlled fermentation fridge in the shed. Surely it was the fluctuating temperature in the house that led to these off flavours. Because the other brews, the Pale Ale, Bec’s Amber Ale, and the Ninja Tongue Lager that had fermented under careful temperature control, were all great successes.

Upon first opening though, Bec’s Amber Ale was a disappointment. After three weeks in the bottle it was like drinking a liquid version of one of those formulaic buddy-cop TV shows. You know the ones; The Mentalist or Bones or Castle or NCIS. All shiny and enjoyable on the surface, but with no depth, no subtlety, nothing to keep you coming back wanting more. Sure, all the elements were there; the deep amber colour, slight malt aroma, right amount of bubbles, but there was just no substance. I took a sip, and as I went to comment to Steve about what I thought (not bad, not great), it was already gone, as though it’d never even been in my mouth. It was too thin, with no depth of flavour.

But that all changed a few weeks later, when it suddenly grew another set of legs. It became wonderfully smooth, and where it was once a repeat episode of CSI, it now became an on-demand screening of Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock, a cracking winter’s tale that you could curl up on the couch with mid-week. Looking forward to the next series!

The reason the ESB and the Doc were brewed inside is because we did a lager, which sat in the fermenting fridge at 3 degrees for 10 weeks. Not sure I’d do another one, given the time it takes, but damn man it was a refreshing brew through the summer. It was ready just in time for Christmas, and didn’t last too long after.

Since then, it’s been quiet. My brewing buddy Luke had another baby, so everything kinda went on hold. And the disappointment of the ESB and the Doc meant my motivation was low. But no more my good friends, another round of the Pale Ale is being bottled tonight, and a Choc Porter is to be brewed tomorrow night.

Game on!