Janx
Well-Known Member
I can't remember the last time I lost a batch.
Infection? Bah! Hasn't happened in years.
Dropping a carboy? Seen it done but never tried it.
Leaky keg fitting? Not in a long time, which is a good thing because it's a mess and a total pisser all wrapped into one.
But I lost a batch a couple weekends ago. And I guess I'm finally ready to talk about it.
It was a beautiful summer afternoon. The brew was winding to a close and the chill was almost done. I had most of my gear cleaned up, last week's batch racked, kegs were chilling. A fine day. Even the mash tun was clean. I just had another gallon or two to chill.
I brew on a three-tier stand with converted kegs...pretty rustic compared to alot of the folks around here, but it works fine for me. I use gravity to push through the chiller because it works just fine. No pumps in my system. Gravity is my friend...
One of the most rustic aspects of my brew day is chilling those final few gallons. The last few that were left on that particular day, in fact. Gravity does the work, but I need to help it out a bit.
And so, with my kettle on the second step of my 3-tier and the fermentor, a 14 gallon glass demijohn on the ground, I give the kettle a bit of a tilt to get that last gallon or so that I have so painstakingly brewed (well, not really painstakingly...but you get the idea) out and into the chiller. I prop the kettle up with a chunk of wood and let gravity pull that last bit on through the chiller.
But gravity betrayed me.
As I cleaned the last few pieces of gear, a stiff breeze came along. I heard a sickening crash. I knew right away that the kettle had fallen over...but it was practically empty. No worries, I desperately tried to tell myself. At most a few pints lost. I spill pints all the time. No big deal.
But that crash was...sickening.
Sure enough, of all the places gravity could have cast my kettle, it threw it down squarely atop my fermenter. Instead of a whole and healthy demijohn, about to begin a frantic bubble and froth, there was a plastic sleeve full of shattered glass and wort that would never be.
How ironic, to take so much care to move the wort from its safe haven in a stainless container to a glass one, only to smash the glass container with the stainless one itself.
Wild, desperate thoughts raced through my head. Surely, I could salvage the batch, the fruits of so many hours of labor. Siphon it out of the unsanitized plastic sleeve and broken glass! But in my heart I knew it was lost.
I set about siphoning the batch out of the plastic sleeve and onto the lawn...and cleaning the kettle and chiller. Like a monk who spends weeks making an intricate sand painting only to sweep it up in the end I was, only I was pissed off, and I think the monks are cool with it.
The loss of the demijohn was one thing. The loss of the batch was something far far greater.To hell with the demijohn! This was beer that might have been! Beer that should have been! Beer that never was to be...and would now ferment as it settled into the lawn.
Now, a couple of weeks later, I have finally cleared my thoughts. A new dawn approaches.
I am finished with glass...finished
Infection? Bah! Hasn't happened in years.
Dropping a carboy? Seen it done but never tried it.
Leaky keg fitting? Not in a long time, which is a good thing because it's a mess and a total pisser all wrapped into one.
But I lost a batch a couple weekends ago. And I guess I'm finally ready to talk about it.
It was a beautiful summer afternoon. The brew was winding to a close and the chill was almost done. I had most of my gear cleaned up, last week's batch racked, kegs were chilling. A fine day. Even the mash tun was clean. I just had another gallon or two to chill.
I brew on a three-tier stand with converted kegs...pretty rustic compared to alot of the folks around here, but it works fine for me. I use gravity to push through the chiller because it works just fine. No pumps in my system. Gravity is my friend...
One of the most rustic aspects of my brew day is chilling those final few gallons. The last few that were left on that particular day, in fact. Gravity does the work, but I need to help it out a bit.
And so, with my kettle on the second step of my 3-tier and the fermentor, a 14 gallon glass demijohn on the ground, I give the kettle a bit of a tilt to get that last gallon or so that I have so painstakingly brewed (well, not really painstakingly...but you get the idea) out and into the chiller. I prop the kettle up with a chunk of wood and let gravity pull that last bit on through the chiller.
But gravity betrayed me.
As I cleaned the last few pieces of gear, a stiff breeze came along. I heard a sickening crash. I knew right away that the kettle had fallen over...but it was practically empty. No worries, I desperately tried to tell myself. At most a few pints lost. I spill pints all the time. No big deal.
But that crash was...sickening.
Sure enough, of all the places gravity could have cast my kettle, it threw it down squarely atop my fermenter. Instead of a whole and healthy demijohn, about to begin a frantic bubble and froth, there was a plastic sleeve full of shattered glass and wort that would never be.
How ironic, to take so much care to move the wort from its safe haven in a stainless container to a glass one, only to smash the glass container with the stainless one itself.
Wild, desperate thoughts raced through my head. Surely, I could salvage the batch, the fruits of so many hours of labor. Siphon it out of the unsanitized plastic sleeve and broken glass! But in my heart I knew it was lost.
I set about siphoning the batch out of the plastic sleeve and onto the lawn...and cleaning the kettle and chiller. Like a monk who spends weeks making an intricate sand painting only to sweep it up in the end I was, only I was pissed off, and I think the monks are cool with it.
The loss of the demijohn was one thing. The loss of the batch was something far far greater.To hell with the demijohn! This was beer that might have been! Beer that should have been! Beer that never was to be...and would now ferment as it settled into the lawn.
Now, a couple of weeks later, I have finally cleared my thoughts. A new dawn approaches.
I am finished with glass...finished
