Merkur double-edge slant safety razor.

Merkur double-edge slant safety razor. Photo by David Ettinger.

http://detngr.com/CrainS

It’s about how I use “apps” in my business.

My first two batches of home brewed beer were made using malt extract. They were both delicious, and afforded a lot of pleasure as their flavors changed so much in such a short period of time. I think of brewing from extract as similar to baking from a mix: yes, it’s baking, but not really, as the ingredients are all prepped for you, or mostly so. Since I already had all the gear, I figured I should try to make beer using the all grain process, in which you start with malted barley (still looking like grain) and extract sugars from it in order to produce the liquid that will eventually ferment into beer.

After asking around for recommendations on what style of beer to brew as a first-timer to the all-grain part of brewing, and it being summer, I chose to make an American ale, which I’m calling “Batch 39.” As of this writing it’s in the primary fermentation stage, so it’ll be a couple of weeks before I get to taste it. The portions of the all grain process that were new to me made it clear I had no clue what I was doing, despite having read a lot and watched a lot of YouTube videos of profoundly committed (and profoundly goofy) guys brewing beer at home. The next batch will be easier, I’m sure. I guess I’m turning into one of those guys now.

The recipe I chose called for flaked corn and flaked rice. The addition of the corn and the rice to the list of ingredients means that my beer does not meet the standard of “reinheitsgebot,” which is the old German beer purity law that required that beers be made with barley, hops, and water. I like the idea of being someone who can produce a bunch of different beers with a limited number of ingredients. I also like trying new things, so I opted to put some faith in the guy who devised the recipe.

Boiling the beer adjuncts - flaked rice and corn ("maize"). Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Wyeast smack pack expanding. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Another new experiment for this batch: I used this yeast instead of the dry kind. Inside this big package, which is stored in the fridge until needed, there’s dry yeast and some liquid yeast nutrients, kept separated. The package is pretty much flat. Once out of the fridge, you smack it, bursting the inside package, and then shake to mix the dry yeast with the liquid. The yeast inside starts to multiply as soon as it rehydrates, and as the yeast consumes the nutrients it gives off carbon dioxide, which makes the package swell. After a few hours, you sanitize the outside of the package and your scissors, open it, and dump the liquid yeast into the fermenter. At this stage the package has been inflating itself for about an hour and a half.

The combitun: combination mash tun and lauter tun made from Igloo cooler. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

This is the combitun (a.k.a. Igloo cooler) set up on top of a wooden crate of beer bottles. At this stage all the ingredients were in the tun. The tube coming out is connected to the false bottom inside the tun: the grain is held up above the bottom of the tun, and the liquid can flow out. Worked well – I was expecting it to be a big, clogged mess but I had no trouble with it.

Taking the temperature of the mash in the combitun. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Taking the temperature of the mash in the combitun. It’s about 160 degrees here. I had a difficult time getting it up to the 170 degree mark that the recipe called for at the end of the mashing process, known as “mashout.” It was taking forever, my temperature readings seemed inconsistent, and I didn’t want to keep adding hot water and diluting everything unnecessarily. I opted to scoop out a whole bunch of the mash water and heat it separately in a pot on the stove, then dumped it back into the tun. I wasn’t sure how hot to heat it on the stove, so kept it below the mashout temperature of 170. I knew that various problems can arise if you physically disturb the mash too much, but I couldn’t remember at what stage that was the case, and I didn’t know what else to do. This process of drawing off some of the mash and heating it separately is called decoction mashing, and is pretty common, so I’m not too worried about having ruined anything, although apparently you’re supposed to draw off not just mash water but the mash itself. Woops. Since none of this was part of the plan it leaves me not knowing what to expect in the end result. I’m crossing my fingers.

Vorlauf: draing off the first running of the wort. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

At the end of the mashing process you perform a step called the vorlauf. The vorlauf takes place at the point in time between the mashing process and the lautering process when you are using just one tun to do both operations (a “combitun”). To vorlauf, you draw off some mash liquid and gently pour it back into the top of the tun. This is done a couple of times until the liquid isn’t cloudy any more, which indicates that all of the grain is resting on top of the false bottom in the tun, and the mash bed itself is filtering out the smaller particles as the liquid passes through. My earlier concern about physically disturbing the mash by decocting was unfounded – it is at this stage, the vorlaufing, that the mash shouldn’t be disturbed too much, as you want the grain bed to mesh together well so that the liquid gets filtered but can still flow out the bottom. I was amazed at how clear the liquid was – the filtering is very effective.

Preparing to sparge: wooden crate on kitchen counter. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Sparge arm setup on the Igloo cooler "combitun." Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Spent grist: the barley and adjuncts after the lautering and sparging. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Here are the spent grains in the tun after the wort has all been drained away. The grain bed wasn’t quite level (hard to see here), and there were about 4 gallons of the stuff. I couldn’t think of any other way to use it in the kitchen, and we can’t compost here, so it had to go in the trash – it seemed like a real waste just throwing it out. I’ll try to figure out a better alternative for the next time.

Sanitized glass carboy fermenter waiting to receive the chilled wort. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

The primary fermenter. After mashing, vorlaufing, and lautering, all the wort went into the kettle, and was boiled for an hour with hops. During that hour I cleaned up from the mashing/lautering/sparging, and prepped the glass carboy for the fermentation process. It caught a nice bit of sunlight while it was waiting to be put to use.

Refreshing wort drink - the sweet, malty, unfermented and unhopped wort makes a great summer beverage. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

At the end of the lautering/sparging, I had more wort than I needed for the beer. I know that means my wort extraction process wasn’t as efficient as possible, and probably means that the pH was off, too, but so it goes. The excess wort is delicious, and has been serving me as a nice cold drink with lunches; I put a couple of jars of it in the fridge. I’m looking forward to a side-by-side tasting of the unboiled wort and the finished beer – surely, there will be something educational in that. If not, perhaps it’s best mixed with a bit of bourbon! Time will tell. (The homemade scones in the background were there since breakfast.)

Near the end of the boil. Immersion chiller is in the kettle, and the counter has a padded landing zone for the kettle to be closer to the sink. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Near the end of the hour-long boil, the wort chiller (which isn’t yet connected to the water supply) is placed in the kettle so it gets heated and therefore sanitized. At this stage it is not connected to anything, so the hoses just hang down – any residual water in the lines can be heated and come dripping out if you’re not careful. The wort chiller is nothing more than a copper tube in a coil shape, with a hose at each end. One hose will be connected to a flow of cold water from the kitchen sink, and the other hose acts as a drain. The heat of the boiling wort outside the copper coil is transferred to the cold running water inside as it flows through the coiled tube, so the wort chills pretty quickly. Chilling the wort quickly is part of keeping the wort sanitary; a large quantity of warm sugary liquid is very inviting for whatever bacteria happen to be around, and they can diminish the quality of the beer.  In the picture above you can see that I’ve set up a landing spot on the counter for the hot kettle to be close enough to the sink. I’ve used some bits of foam that are the decorative edges of an exercise mat, with a few pieces of plywood on top of them. Last time the hot kettle was so heavy and, you know, dangerous, that I decided I should have a better landing zone for it on the following batch.

Bottle of Whirlfloc tablets. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

This is a product called Whirlfloc. You add a half tablet to a 5 gallon batch of wort near the end of the boil. It helps everything coagulate and settle out, so the finished beer should be clearer. I’m not sure if there will be any effect on the taste, or if it’s just a clarity effect.

The hoses of the wort chiller as it sits in the kettle during the last 15 minutes of the boil. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Chilling the wort in the kettle by using the immersion chiller connected to cold water at the sink. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

At this point the kettle has been hauled over near the sink, the wort chiller connected, the floating glass thermometer dropped in, and the water turned on. I stir the wort while it chills. This is a critical time for the wort. Cooling it as quickly as possible is important – it’s exposed to the air for a shorter time, so there’s less chance of “infection” before it gets into the sanitized fermenter.

Used hop bags in bowl after removal from the wort in the kettle. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

For this batch I put the hops into little cotton bags before adding them to the wort during the boil. They still impart their flavors and aromas to the wort, but the straining process is much easier as the wort is transferred from the boil kettle to the fermenter. The recipe called for three hop additions, but there are only two little bags here – I completely forgot about the bags when adding the first hops, so we still had to strain it some on the way to the fermenter.

Wort in the fermenter with foam on top. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

The wort transferred into the fermenter, before the yeast has been added. It gets aerated by splashing and shaking in order to put as much oxygen into the solution as possible, which will make the yeast happy.

Beer in the fermenter with blow-off tube and krausen foam. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Fermentation. The morning after the brewing it’s going crazy in there: it looks like it’s boiling, and there’s a steady stream of bubbles in the sanitizer container.

Krausen (the foam of yeast, proteins, and bits of hops) at the top of the primary fermenter. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Bubbles of CO2 from the fermentation coming out the blow-off tube, into a pot full of sanitizer. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Chilling the fermenter. Homebrewing - brewing beer at home. "Batch 39" American Ale.

Chilling the fermenter. The fermentation temperature was much too warm, so I put the fermenter into the Igloo cooler with about 2 gallons of cold water. I added a wet towel to the top, with a small fan to keep it actively cooling by evaporation. The temperature was coming down very slowly until I started adding blocks of ice, frozen in ziploc bags, to the cooler.  In subsequent batches I’ll skip the towel and fan altogether, and just use the bags of ice, or plain old ice packs.

That nearly brings us up to date. The only new bit of information is that the ice has proven very effective at getting the temperature down, so I’ve removed the fan and the wet towel. I’ll report back when there’s more exciting beer-making to discuss.  The whole beer-making thing has been so much fun.  It’s such a great combination of cooking and geekdom:  specific gravity, graduated cylinders, heat exchange, flocculation rates, temperature control, etc.  When it’s all done, you have a delicious product that changes often, and gives you a buzz.  Pair that with fresh-from-the-oven pretzels made by the Missus and good company in a kitchen we built ourselves and that’s what I call living high on the hog.

Weighing the hops pellets. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

The process is a lot like cooking, a lot like running science experiments, and a little bit like keeping a pet, all mixed up with a dash of “sticking it to the man.” The beer has been delicious – the best part has been tasting it as it changes over time. Pairing it with food (like last weekend’s homemade pretzels) has been great. My one complaint is that it never seems to stick around very long. Here are some pictures of the process.

Enamelled steel brew kettle on gas stove. That's the primary fermenter in the background. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

Grain bag after removal from brewing kettle. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

Sanitized and stoppered glass carboy used as primary fermenter. Shown with handle. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

Immersion-type wort chiller in kettle during last 15 minutes of boiling the wort. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

I was lucky enough to be given an immersion-type wort chiller along with all the rest of the brewing gear. It’s just a spiral of copper tubing, about 25 feet long, with hoses attached to each end of the tubing. You connect one end to a faucet, run cold water through it, and it drains out the other end into the sink. The chilled water doesn’t mix in with the wort; it’s only there for heat transfer: it picks up the heat from the wort in the kettle, and cools that 5 gallons of 212-degree wort to 70-degrees in about 15 minutes. I like to put it (unconnected) into the kettle for the last 15 minutes of the brewing, so it can get sanitized by the heat.

Rehydrating the yeast in temperature-controlled, pre-boiled water. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

For this recipe, the provided yeast is dry and comes in a little envelope. I like to rehydrate the yeast in warm water before pitching it into the fermenter – it just makes more sense to me than sprinkling in dry yeast. The water inside the jar has been sanitized by boiling in a small pot on the stove next to the brewing kettle. I then put the jar of boiled water in a water bath of cold water to get it down to the right temperature before adding the yeast. That’s the bucket full of sanitizer in the background – it’s a weak iodine solution.

Rehydrating the yeast in warm, pre-boiled water. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

The yeast gets sprinkled onto the surface of the pre-boiled water, and sits there for about 15 minutes before you really mix it in. It’s absolutely a living organism, which always amuses me.

Measurement of original gravity, using hydrometer in graduated cylinder after transferring chilled wort to primary fermenter. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

At the end of the boil, the kettle is moved over near the sink, and the wort chiller is connected to cold running water. After chilling the wort it gets transferred into the primary fermenter. The period between the end of the boil and the transfer into the primary fermenter is a vulnerable time for the wort, when it is most likely to get some kind of unwelcome bacteria in it. It’s a big quantity of warm, sugary liquid, and would make a nice home for a lot of unwelcome guests, so it’s important to chill it quickly and get it transferred. This explains why I have no pictures of this part of the brewing process. (Sorry.) A small portion of the wort is collected in a graduated cylinder in order to take a measurement of the density of the liquid, which is used to calculate the original gravity, or “OG,” which is essentially a measure of how much sugar is in the liquid, and therefore of the potential of the wort to ferment.

Closeup of measurement of original gravity, using hydrometer in graduated cylinder after transferring chilled wort to primary fermenter. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

Closeup of the hydrometer reading. A small portion of the wort is collected in a graduated cylinder in order to take a measurement of the density of the wort, which is used to calculate the original gravity, or “OG,” which is essentially a measure of the potential of the wort to ferment.

Primary fermenter sitting in the corner on top of homemade crates of beer bottles. Homebrewing: brewing beer at home. Photo by David Ettinger.

Primary fermenter in its place, sitting on top of two homemade wooden crates filled with beer bottles. The fermenter sits in an out of the way corner and stays undisturbed while the yeast does its work of eating up the sugars and producing alcohol and carbon dioxide. You can see a thick layer of “krausen” on the surface of the beer. (Now that it has all of its ingredients in it, it’s no longer called “wort.”) The krausen is mostly foam and bits of hops that didn’t get filtered out during the transfer from the brewing kettle. Hard to see here is the little airlock at the top of the fermenter, which allows carbon dioxide gas to escape but keeps outside contaminants from getting in. I keep a thermometer beside the fermenter, on the right, to monitor the temperature. This picture was taken the day after brewing day, in the morning. The layer of krausen is big, but not as big as it reached in this batch, which was about 4 inches thick. For this batch, I left it in the primary fermenter for 13 days. On day 13 I bottled half of it and transferred the other half to a secondary fermenter, where it sat for another 14 days. It’s not a full 5 gallons, in case you were wondering. After taking the picture I covered the fermenter with a cloth to keep the beer in the dark while it ferments.

Bubbles in the airlock of the primary fermenter, which is wrapped in cloth to keep the beer in the dark. Homebrewing - home beer brewing. Photo by David Ettinger.

This is the airlock at the top of the primary fermenter, which is wrapped in cloth to keep the light out. You can see the bubbles in the airlock.

Maximum krausen on top of beer in primary fermenter, about 4" thick. Homebrewing - home beer brewing. Photo by David Ettinger.

This is the greatest height reached by the krausen foam sitting on top of the beer in the fermenter. It’s certainly not very pretty – my brother calls it “swamp water” – but there’s nothing nasty about it. Actually, it’s amazingly sanitary in there.

Bubbles in the airlock of the primary fermenter. Homebrewing - home beer brewing. Photo by David Ettinger.

Bubbles in the airlock of the primary fermenter. The beer gives off carbon dioxide as the yeast consumes the sugars. The airlock allows the CO2 to come out and prevents anything from getting in and causing contamination. Some call it “infection” which is accurate but just a bit too evocative.  Well, now we wait!

Spinning red rubber band and monofilament art installation by Chicago artist Jesse Seay. Photo by David Ettinger.

I’ve photographed a number of pieces for Jesse over the past few years, all of which have been fun and interesting.  Jesse has built this piece as a model for a much larger version.  Here’s the description in her words:

This kinetic sculpture is comprised of red rubber bands hanging from fishing lines, each line attached to tiny motors. When the motors are activated, the rubber bands spin, bounce and float like tiny lassos. The bounce of each rubber band is affected by the length of the monofilament and by tiny variations in the mass-produced motors and rubber bands. The spinning produces standing waves in the monofilament which are highly visible when back-lit against a black backdrop. With a white backdrop, the filament is nearly invisible, leaving the impression of red circles floating in space. On display, the motors run continuously.

In Japan, springtime is marked by “hanami”, the Japanese custom of viewing the cherry blossoms as they fall from the trees. Traditionally, social gatherings are held under the trees to view the flowers. When I lived in Yokohama, Japan, I watched the blossoms pile into snow-like drifts along the sidewalks on my walks home.

Red rubber bands serve as a springtime marker for me where I currently live and work, in Chicago, Illinois. Once the snow melts, I find the tiny rubber bands dropped on the sidewalk by delivery people who use them to affix fliers to doorknobs.

I started collecting the rubber bands and eventually incorporated them into this piece, which evokes both places for me. The tiny red circles become minimalist cherry blossoms, and the wide, landscape layout of the sculpture evokes a Japanese painted folding screen. As a viewer moves around the piece, the red circles form different patterns in space, mimicking those of blossoms flowering on a tree. The tethered standing waves capture the motion of the blossoms, fluttering to the ground.

Here the spinning motion is stopped (mostly). Spinning red rubber band and monofilament art installation by Chicago artist Jesse Seay. Photo by David Ettinger.

Standing waves in the monofilament fishing line. Spinning red rubber band and monofilament art installation by Chicago artist Jesse Seay. Photo by David Ettinger.

Closeup of the motors. Spinning red rubber band and monofilament art installation by Chicago artist Jesse Seay. Photo by David Ettinger.

Looking up at the grid of motors. Spinning red rubber band and monofilament art installation by Chicago artist Jesse Seay. Photo by David Ettinger.

Red rings floating in space. Spinning red rubber band and monofilament art installation by Chicago artist Jesse Seay. Photo by David Ettinger.

Here’s an older piece of Jesse’s.  This one is installed in the Chicago Children’s Museum.  There are small speakers in each of the tubes, playing recordings from the Favorite Chicago Sounds Collection.

Jesse Seay's Sound Tubes installation at Chicago Children's Museum.