Nillin's brew day thoughts

So, I have had this on my desktop for awhile, and I'm sorry. I am now posting Nillin's thoughts on our brewday for your reader enjoyment. Enjoy.

As I am without Ian's college-days home-brew experience, my perspective on "Brew Day" is likely a bit different than that of our fearless leader. Therefore, I've committed to writing from that perspective, not so much for posterity, perhaps for the sake of documentation, but certainly for the everyday philanthropy of serving all good things up with a foamy head of embellishment.

Where to begin? Ah yes, Ian. Ian and I both attended Western Washington University in the fine city of Bellingham, in the great county of Whatcom, and in the very northwest corner of the diverse and savagely beautiful state of Washington. People who live in Washington tend to display an uncommon degree of affection for the land they live on, and for the textures and tastes that land provides. It is therefore not at all surprising that Ian would find enough interest amongst his peers at Western to launch, draw members to, and fund one of the university's most tenuously-permitted official clubs: the Home-brew Club.

Rain, earth, barley, hops, beer! And while I was content to merely drink in my affection for this most reverent alchemy of love and land, Ian and his crew set about the business of brewing it, learning its magic words, and chanting them like wizards over their great steaming cauldron. As I was not a member of the Home-brew Club, I am not properly qualified to tell you of the successes and failures of its members. I can say, however, that its activities did not go unnoticed and word spread far enough beyond the university's walls to ultimately be printed on the front page of the Bellingham Herald, by no means a small regional newspaper.

The story that takes us from then to now is only Ian's to tell, and parts of it are told on this blog. There are chapters on high notes played from brass bells, an epic wedding to an epic Ailisa, rocks, scooters, and freaky cults, but few on beer.

Then last night, on this first page of a new chapter in brewing (my first), Ian told me something about his Home-brew Club experience that gave me pause. As brewing is a messy and time-consuming process, and not an inexpensive hobby, I had agreed to take it up only because I felt Ian's experience would guarantee some measure of success. And so, knees bent and ready to dive, with a few hundred pounds of equipment and ingredients spread out around the kitchen, I was understandably dismayed as Ian casually lobbed, "most of my brews got infected" out there onto the counter.

It turns out beers get sick. Bacterial infection. And apparently the yeast can fall asleep! Needless to say, this next month is going to be a nail-biter. Ian and I are already coming up with names for a beer that might not see the light of day. Still, I am hopeful; so much so that today I paid $25 dollars for a thin-handled spoon that will hang on the lip of our boiling pot, allowing us to better keep the wort shielded from bacteria during cooling. Stainless steel spoon = 25 dollars. Knowing your wort won't get a cold = priceless.