Hoplology

… is the academic and highly esoteric study of the processes involved in the creation of liquids such as, well, beer. The study has been a respected academic discipline since long before that Donn Draeger fellow tried to co-opt the meaning.

Lest the discerning reader be aghast at this post’s seeming drift from the established theme of practicing martial arts, it should be made clear that my most recent batch of homebrew was made after some good outdoor practice and is thus infused with a special something generated by good practice.

The process requires active work on two occasions, followed by approximately 40 bottles’ worth of light exertion. Work One involves the brewing of the stew. Boil water and add hops, malt, yeast, and such in varying quantities at assigned times, then pour it into the big carboy bottle and let it sit as foamy kreusen collects on top and gooey muck gathers on the bottom.

Work Two involves transferring the beer from the carboy into individual bottles. It is important to gargle with whiskey or baijiu before siphoning, in order to kill germs in the mouth. Once filled and capped, the bottles must sit a bit longer. There should not be any foam on the top this time, though some gooey muck will settle to the bottom of each bottle. By sneaking a sip from each bottle during the process of siphoning for Quality Control purposes, you can come to really appreciate the artistry involved in home brewing.

I have sampled a few bottles from this batch. The first two were not quite mature and tasted like ordinary beers from the supermarket. Number three started getting a little bitter flavor and by the fourth, the hops had really kicked in. Apparently I am known as a “hophead,” someone who prefers more hops in their brew. This probably stems from my first batch, in which I accidentally poured in way too much hops. The resulting brew (Mitaka Mud) was damn hoppy and damn good. And that taste has, I think, been imprinted upon me.

With the current batch, I added some dry malt to the usual liquid malt. It is important to run a rolling pin over the malt to crack open the grains. Lacking such sophisticated kitchenry, I turned to the next best thing: one of my double sticks. The lower picture shows my assistant at work, grinding the dry malt.

The malt was cracked and the beer is getting good, but my double sticks are no longer the matching set they once were.