Spring is often heralded as a time of growth and rebirth. A million and one smells, sights, and feelings that burst onto the scene all at once, combining into a rapturous orgy of warmth and fuzziness across the land. Or maybe that's just us Cascadians who toil in the grey and rain of our climate...
In any case, my attention has been focused on a different kind of growth. More of a yeasty fermentation really. It started out innocently enough with some late night blog browsing, and here we are six loaves later and the addition of a solid bread recipe. I blame Orangette entirely. On the flip side I owe this talented woman a bit of gratitude as Rachael seems to enjoy the dark crust and crumb I'm producing, rather than mocking my internet crush on the aforementioned writer or bringing up past attempts at capturing wild yeast for sourdough bread.
Given this newfound confidence with wheat and yeast, I decided to take a second stab at beer brewing. Same ingredients, but with hops and carboys rather than molasses and bread pans. If you've never attempted this at home, let me say that baking and brewing are like running and biking. Bakers and runners are all about minimalism. Give me shoes and shorts, or flour and water, and I'll take you places for very little money. In contrast, brewers and cyclists can (and will) talk for hours about gear and style....and both camps can drop a lot of money before having anything to show for it. Fortunately the art of brewing goes back to the dawn of civilization, quite literally, so improvisation is not only allowed by strongly encouraged. Why buy a $200 counterflow plate chiller and a dedicated refrigerator when you can empty out the icemaker and plonk 5 gallons of fermenting liquid next to the couch. Then again, my wife might insist I invest in such tools after I delayed dinner by three hours and made the house smell like a brewery. =)
