Brewing Ain't For the Weak

"Brewing is @$%&! hard. Started brewing yesterday at 6am and finished at 1am the next morning. I'm back in h-town now."
--Steve

Here are some pics of Matt working very hard on batches of Lug Tread 2 and 3, and a moving self-portrait (upper left) of Steve taking a break.

Kölsch-Bock, or, anyone for a giant beer-flavoured snow cone?

It was a crazy week leading up to the launch of Lug Tread on Canada Day. The yeast challenges we had experienced (see Yeast of Burden entry below) had put us into a race against time to get this beer kegged and into the bars, and Murphy's Law dogged us once again.
The plan was for (sales guy) Phil to go with (brewer) Matt to Campbellford where they would finish cleaning our kegs and slapping the Beau's logo on them. (Apparently the bar/restaurant industry is a lot like a daycare—if it doesn't have your kid's name on it, it ain't coming back to you.) Then they would filter the beer into the bright tanks and keg it.
We optimistically figured that Matt and Phil could even brew up the next two batches Wednesday and Thursday, and still be back in Ottawa for the Lug Tread launch parties at the new accounts. As long as everything went according to plan, things would be great.
First, a piece broke off the bright tank. This took a (Monday) to fix, and then the tank needed to be cleaned (goodbye, Tuesday).
On Wednesday the filtering began, and that's when things got really crazy. I got a call on my cell phone that all was going great... then a second call to tell me that after 400 litres the filter clogged (just a little major clogging, it's still good)... then a third to say that by 700 litres we’d run out of filtering agent and nothing more could be done.
It was too late not to have beer ready. The news release was out, the articles in the press, the sales were made. We didn't have time to sample or test the batch, tweak it or wait for the next one. What we had to deliver immediately worked out to exactly 650 litres, so we kegged those first 700 litres and hit the road, Ottawa-bound, since we had a press tasting event scheduled in two hours.
We poured our own first sip just as members of the media started arriving, but what hit the palate was not at all like our home-brewed pilot batch. Our Lug Tread is a tribute to the very subtle Kölsch style from Cologne, Germany.
This batch, while very tasty, was anything but subtle. Assertive bitterness and mouth-filling maltiness were the dominant traits, with a notable alcohol flavour. In fact, it tasted more like a Bock or a Bière de Garde than a Kölsch.
While we stood there perplexed, back at the brewery Matt was discovering the secret of what we would later christen our Kölsch-Bock. Our double-jacketed unitank, with icy kosher propylene glycol coursing through its veins, apparently worked a little too well. A 150 litre "iceberg" had formed, effectively concentrating the remaining wort and giving the yeast little opportunity to settle.
So there you are, Kölsch-Bock in hand, CTV cameraman filming for a news piece to air at 11:30 that night and a couple dozen interested spectators looking for the reaction to your first sip of the beer you spent your lifesavings and two years preparing to get on the market. And despite being a great beer, it is SO not the Lug Tread Kölsch. What would you do?
To get a little philosophical, there is a reason why craft brewing is called that. It's an art. And like an original piece of artwork, every batch of craft beer is going to be a little bit different (okay, a lot different in this case). If we wanted beer that tasted blandly the same every time we tasted it, we would be happy to drink Molson or Labatt products. But the craft beer drinker craves adventure, and boldly goes where his or her friends don't dare.
There is an Ontario craft beer that I absolutely love. Some beer enthusiasts are critical of this particular beer because it is listed as a "[style censored to protect the brewer]," yet it does not strictly adhere to that style. I personally don’t care too much whether it conforms to style. I like it because the flavour is unique and quite enjoyable.
The thought of that unique beer was what ultimately guided our decision to launch this first batch of Lug Tread onto the market — because despite not being what we intended, it is still a unique and enjoyable beer.
Some people expecting a Kölsch might be disappointed that this does not adhere to the style, while others will enjoy this batch and will be disappointed when future batches do not repeat this taste. Like entrepreneurs have to do every day, we made a judgment call and took a risk. Now, I guess time will tell whether this was the right decision to make.
I do understand that if you walk like a duck and call yourself an ostrich, you will not meet expectations. But I think there is room for reasonable variance in brewing craft beer. I have great faith that the Beau's beer drinker will find this beer tasty and interesting, and will have fun experiencing how the beer evolves. Personally I not only accept this aspect of brewing, I enjoy it — it's kind of like watching a kid grow up.
Oh, and a warning: I can guarantee our next batch won’t be perfect either. And there will still be some tweaking on the batch after that. When we move into our permanent brewery, it'll be almost like starting from scratch. But between here and there, we plan to brew up better and better beers for you all to enjoy along the way.

A Yeast of Burden

Steve B. and his dad are in the process of starting up Beau's All Natural Brewing Co. in Eastern Ontario. Here is another instalment in the ongoing saga of the start up, which like most new business ventures has not been without its challenges...

So our yeast died. On our very first order of yeast there was a mess-up at customs, and it sat in a remote border office in the heat; the tiny, piercing screams from their unicellular vocal cords falling on the deaf ears of some customs officer.
Meanwhile, back at the brewery our unitank – installed, tested, kosher propylene glycol coursing through its double-jacketed stainless steel veins – sat quiet, attentive. But it looked like it was waiting to receive a 30-hectolitre payload that wasn’t coming.
A quick call to the big yeast suppliers, White Labs and Wyeast, confirmed what we already suspected: that we were out of luck. You see, when you decide to brew a style of beer that no one else in your region brews (a Kölsch) your yeast is a "specialty," and that unfortunately means there is never an inventory around when you need it.
We were told it would take at least two weeks to propagate more of our yeast and then it would have to be shipped, risking the same fate as the first. Two weeks lag time was not an option for us with a July 1st launch date just around the corner, so something had to be done.
I was buoyed by one thought: could another brewery who brewed the same style lend us their yeast? Or I guess to put it more exactly, would someone lend us, another brewery, the competition, some of their yeast?
I had recently returned from the annual craft brewers conference in Seattle. At the keynote address, Sam Calagione of Dogfish Head Brewing had spoken about "brethren of the fellow brewer." He claimed that if other industries were as tightly knit and supportive as the brewing business, Steve Jobs could just call up Bill Gates and borrow some W’s for his keyboards if he ran out. Well, I didn’t need W’s, but I figured I’d see if anyone had 80 cups of yeast to lend a neighbour.
I started with Mt. Begbie in Revelstoke, BC, the only other Kölsch brewers in Canada to my knowledge – and it's a pretty good one, too. I spoke with a nice woman, who sympathized with my plight and promised to check with her husband and head brewer. Later that night she called back to tell me they would love to help, but were just placing an order themselves and didn’t have any yeast on hand. At least it wasn't a no.
Disappointed but undaunted, I called Alaskan Brewing, in... well, Alaska, but no dice. Seems they’ve patented their yeast strain (how much corporate espionage did you think existed in Alaska?) and wouldn’t dream of letting their yeast outside their four walls. Fair enough.
I called another brewery and was informed by the woman on the phone that her husband, the head brewer, had died the day before – but that he would have helped me for sure.
I thought I had it all sewn up with Schlafly out of St. Louis – they had their own lab, were just propagating a Kölsch strain, and said would get a kick out of helping out a Canadian start-up. Unfortunately, when Matt, our head brewer, tried to work out logistics, they couldn’t figure out a way to keep the yeast cold, uncontaminated and stress-free on a journey from St. Louis to Ontario. Apparently, yeast is the prima donna of the single-celled organism world.
In all, I think I called about 25 U.S. breweries, most of which said they’d love to help out, but either didn’t have the yeast on hand (not many produce this style on a consistent basis) or couldn’t spare what they did. But the amazing thing was how interested everyone was in helping out someone who was technically "the competition." Sam Calagione had pegged this business right, and it was an awesome thing to behold.
In the end it was Wyeast that came to our rescue. Matt was able to work with them to get a suitable amount of yeast shipped to us. With sweating palms we called Wyeast and Fed Ex every 3o minutes for the next two-and-a-half days until it landed.
Close call? Yes. Great learning experience? Yes again. And the reward came a few days later, when nearly two years after starting work on our brewery, we finally started brewing our first batch of beer... still on track (barely) for July 1.