Perfection is an affront to god

Weavers and Builders in the Islamic world always put in a purposeful slight imperfection into their product, because perfection would be an affront to god. I'm not sure that in our brewing, or our drinking, that we should subscribe directly to this protocol, putting in a purposeful flaw, but it provides a relatively compelling introduction to this post.

My erstwhile companion in starting this blog, bJames, has suggested that perfection should be our goal. Our brewing should become metered and consistent, but I wonder how far. Were all beer to come out the same I would not drink out, I would just bring my beers in. I live in a state with relatively easy liquor laws, and going out for the $5 draft could be avoided with a $3 single bottle, closer to my house. Where I could also be assured no unrine but my own is on the toilet seat (thankfully the cat has gotten over his most recent bouts with a nasty UTI). So the draft is different- it sits in the keg, pumps through lines and into my glass. There is more carbonation, it dances a little, the beer has traveled, not alone, but with friends, been through some new and interesting narrow channels and has come to tell me what it has learned. Still, it is pasteruized and pressurized to the point that almost any idiot can get it to me in a reasonably consistent condition (except for the knuckleheads at the campus bar-- with the gall to charge a membership fee no less-- for beers that are priced and sourced as premium but pushed through lines that would make the Hilton's plubming look hygenic).

But, perhaps I digress-- beer is alive. As our friends out in California remind us, beer is teeming with living organisms. Any batch of drinkable beer is the result of a miracle of the right bugs eating the right sugars to make the right alcohols-- and flavors too. The British, as I may have mentioned before, love their cask ales. These beers are alive when the hit the floor and are kept by cellarmen and cellarwomyn who keep them the best they can. The elements affect the beers, they leave the brewery in under two weeks from inception. The drive, the cellar, the tempature, season, pollen, lines, other beers, spiders, they all conspire to make the beer different every time. These beers are alive, and I am alive. Sure, I've gone home with migranes from poorly kept beer, sold past its date by landlords who can't sell 6.5 gallons of the same beer in a week. This when they only have a few taps. But I've also had exquisite beers this way, that will never be the same again, only fleeting memories to be replaced by new ones as I try them again. It is the same with brewing- while ending up with radically different brews isn't desirable-- things change and we need to embrace that. 

My beer is alive, sitting in bottles in my closet as the whims of my landlord drive the heat in my house around 10 degrees, with the Chicago weather doing the same for another ten. Beers get better, they get worse, the age. I'll keg soon, but there will still be yeast alive chaing the profile of the beer. We can know a lot about our beers- we can take them to near perfection. But actual perfection-- beer brewed in nine locations in the US tasting exactly the same every day regardless of the season. Miller High Life being innoculated against skunking? These are technical marvels fitting of the first nation to put a man on the moon, sure. But they are also an affront to us as living beings, to nature, to our world, and, of course, to god.

Fermentation Friday: How the best of '07 became the worst of '08 and why Adolphus Busch is better than you

Miller is better than you. So are Bud, Pabst, and Coors. Now, I don't want you to think I'm singling you out; it’s not that you're a bad brewer –well, you might be, but that's not the point. So am I. So is everyone else who isn't a brewmaster for one of those big companies.

By now, I'm sure you making angry, Nixonesque harrumphs in your wheely office chair and compiling your list of favorite microbrews in your head. I'm sure you're saying beers like Burning River, Arrogant Bastard, and Golden Monkey are way better than Miller Lite, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and the Silver Bullet; but they're not. They're just not.

And I’m sure you have your reasons for picking those microbrews. I’m sure you’re thinking about the mouth feel, the wide range of flavor and scent the carefully selected hops bring to the brew, how much richer the color is, how much fuller the head is. But you’re wrong.

The reason the larger breweries are better than the smaller ones can be summed up in one word: consistency. Winter, summer, fall, spring, bad harvests, blights, new suppliers, water pollution, pesticides, fertilizers, economic hardship, floods, tornados, war… none of these things have any effect on their end product. And that's simply astonishing! Just stop and think about what a monumental achievement that is! You probably bitch when your local shop runs out of your favorite brand of priming sugar.

But don’t think I’m saying I’m better than you. I’m not. I’m probably worse, and now we’re getting to the point. Last winter, MC Paddy and I brewed up a Christmas beer with hints of honey and cherry. It was dark, full, rich, sweet, strong, and even got a bit chocolaty with age. It's probably the best beer we've ever made, and this winter it became one of the worst. We dug out the recipe, gathered the ingredients, and set to work. We did our best to replicate everything from the year before, but something went wrong. What? Who knows.

And there's the problem. What good is expanding your knowledge and developing new and exciting recipes if you can't do something more than once? And I mean doing it exactly the same more than once. We were so excited to make this winter beer again. We came up with a name and a clever label, and really did it up properly. But the stuff inside just didn't live up to our hopes.

So I’m not saying all those things you like about your favorite microbrews aren’t important, I’m just saying that they aren’t as important as being able to do it all consistently. That's what I want to work towards next year, and I urge you to do the same. Whatever level of brewing you're on, no matter how good or bad your beer may be… learn to make it the same every time. That way, when you hit on something really good, you'll be able to make it again and again anytime you want.