I have just escaped from a perfect storm of a brewing crisis.
I have taken my life in my hands in the following ways:
1. While I ferment most of my beers in the cellar, for those that require higher temperatures, I use the guest room closet; the same closet, significantly, where the Missus, a knitting addict, keeps her expensive yarn stash, because I am stupid, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
2. When fermenting these beers, I use only an airlock, no blowoff tube, because I am stupid and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
3. My current sour required an addition of raspberries, and rather than remove the carboy to make my addition, I decided to add them IN THE CLOSET, right next to six skeins of snow-white merino wool, because I am stupid, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
4. Having managed, by the grace of god, to spill raspberries everywhere EXCEPT on the wool, I realized I had underestimated the sheer volume in the carboy that three pounds of raspberries takes up, and my carboy is now full up INTO the neck. But I cleaned up my spills, and I decided to leave it with only an airlock, because I am stupid, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
Anyway, long story short, I came in to check on the beer three hours later and the beer-and-berry-juice mixture with its remarkable staining potential was like half an inch from the top of the airlock, about to blow out. I quickly removed the airlock, liberated about half a pint of beer from the carboy with my beer thief, ran downstairs to grab some tubing, and hooked up an emergency blowoff tube. Because I am stupid, but also lucky, the Missus is working late, and will never have any idea this happened. And we'll just keep it between us.
Moral of the story, kiddos, maybe we should listen when the big kids tell us blowoffs happen.
I have taken my life in my hands in the following ways:
1. While I ferment most of my beers in the cellar, for those that require higher temperatures, I use the guest room closet; the same closet, significantly, where the Missus, a knitting addict, keeps her expensive yarn stash, because I am stupid, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
2. When fermenting these beers, I use only an airlock, no blowoff tube, because I am stupid and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
3. My current sour required an addition of raspberries, and rather than remove the carboy to make my addition, I decided to add them IN THE CLOSET, right next to six skeins of snow-white merino wool, because I am stupid, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
4. Having managed, by the grace of god, to spill raspberries everywhere EXCEPT on the wool, I realized I had underestimated the sheer volume in the carboy that three pounds of raspberries takes up, and my carboy is now full up INTO the neck. But I cleaned up my spills, and I decided to leave it with only an airlock, because I am stupid, and besides, what's the worst that could happen?
Anyway, long story short, I came in to check on the beer three hours later and the beer-and-berry-juice mixture with its remarkable staining potential was like half an inch from the top of the airlock, about to blow out. I quickly removed the airlock, liberated about half a pint of beer from the carboy with my beer thief, ran downstairs to grab some tubing, and hooked up an emergency blowoff tube. Because I am stupid, but also lucky, the Missus is working late, and will never have any idea this happened. And we'll just keep it between us.
Moral of the story, kiddos, maybe we should listen when the big kids tell us blowoffs happen.
