When I first ventured into the world of homebrew, I must have been in my early teens. The Father forbade us children from drinking; he was good like that. Homebrew, however, was a hobby, and a hobby gave you something else to do with your hands other than the thing that all 13 year old boys discover they can do with their hands.
In those days it was kits and a yeasty scummy bucket of something that only tasted good after a few pints. Once I reached the age of drinking (around 15), I turned my back on homebrew and dismissed it as an evil thing. Then I became a student and realised that it wasn't that bad. The intervening years hadn't really improved the quality.
I returned to brewing some 15 years ago and quickly realised that kits weren't for me. I debated giving the whole thing a miss until I read How to Brew by John Palmer. That book changed my brewing, and also impacted on my brewing space. A kit and bucket can go in a cupboard, but once you delve into the world of shiny stuff, you just get addicted...
Any job is a pain in the rear unless you have the right tools, and that's true of brewing. I often rue the money wasted on starting out. If you want to brew, bite the bullet, buy the right stuff and it'll last a lifetime. If you, like me, become seriously involved. the most costly of all brewing tools is space.
We've all been there; you're just getting ready to sparge and someone (usually a significant other or a child, both of whom you can't really punch) strides into the kitchen/bathroom expecting to make tea/get washed/fill a bucket of water to put out a fire. You try and explain that you're at a pivotal part of the brewing process, but for them that doesn't matter. There's always some weak excuse: they're thirsty or they need to get to work or the house is ablaze.
At times like this, I've dreamed of a brewery, my own space where others are forbidden to bring their petty problems, where the taps and electricity and gas belong to me, and where the creation of beer comes before all things.
When Mrs Idiot wanted to move North to be near her family, I didn't insist on much. Well, I did, but one thing that I was insistent on was a brewery. I expected a box room or a corner of a garage or a pokey shed, but for some reason Mrs Idiot thought I wanted something grander. She hates being corrected, so I didn't!
The Idiot Brewery is an old stable block. Thankfully for me, the people who sold the house had it converted into a workshop. It measures up at 36 x 12 feet, which is enough for me. It has water, power and drainage along with a selection of shelves and the like.
The space will also be good as the new Idiot House also has an orchard, so there'll be a need for presses and scratters and the like. Cider and Perry from my own trees is too good an opportunity to pass up; it's a bit like meeting a beautiful woman and finding out she's a butcher!
Of course, Mrs Idiot isn't going to allow me to spend all day in the brewery. She wants a new kitchen. That means that the old kitchen - including cupboards, work surfaces, extractor fans, ovens and sinks - will be making the move into the Idiot Brewery. Waste not, want not!
I did try to cobble together a masterplan for the conversion, but that led to tinkering with malt, hops and yeast, and rather than planning developments I made some beer instead: a nice hop-forward IPA. I figure you have to brew to identify the pros and cons of the new space.
The second attempt at planning the brewery layout resulted in a Saison infused with nettle tops. I think you can see how things are going!
I have now settled on a 'make it up as you go along' approach, allowing necessity to dictate the various developments. I have no doubt that this project could become a bit of a money-pit, one way or another.
So, if anyone has any ideas, I'd be more than happy to hear them. After all, if my one head can create a chaotic brewery, imagine what multiple ill-conceived ideas will throw up!
In those days it was kits and a yeasty scummy bucket of something that only tasted good after a few pints. Once I reached the age of drinking (around 15), I turned my back on homebrew and dismissed it as an evil thing. Then I became a student and realised that it wasn't that bad. The intervening years hadn't really improved the quality.
I returned to brewing some 15 years ago and quickly realised that kits weren't for me. I debated giving the whole thing a miss until I read How to Brew by John Palmer. That book changed my brewing, and also impacted on my brewing space. A kit and bucket can go in a cupboard, but once you delve into the world of shiny stuff, you just get addicted...
Any job is a pain in the rear unless you have the right tools, and that's true of brewing. I often rue the money wasted on starting out. If you want to brew, bite the bullet, buy the right stuff and it'll last a lifetime. If you, like me, become seriously involved. the most costly of all brewing tools is space.
We've all been there; you're just getting ready to sparge and someone (usually a significant other or a child, both of whom you can't really punch) strides into the kitchen/bathroom expecting to make tea/get washed/fill a bucket of water to put out a fire. You try and explain that you're at a pivotal part of the brewing process, but for them that doesn't matter. There's always some weak excuse: they're thirsty or they need to get to work or the house is ablaze.
At times like this, I've dreamed of a brewery, my own space where others are forbidden to bring their petty problems, where the taps and electricity and gas belong to me, and where the creation of beer comes before all things.
When Mrs Idiot wanted to move North to be near her family, I didn't insist on much. Well, I did, but one thing that I was insistent on was a brewery. I expected a box room or a corner of a garage or a pokey shed, but for some reason Mrs Idiot thought I wanted something grander. She hates being corrected, so I didn't!
The Idiot Brewery is an old stable block. Thankfully for me, the people who sold the house had it converted into a workshop. It measures up at 36 x 12 feet, which is enough for me. It has water, power and drainage along with a selection of shelves and the like.
The space will also be good as the new Idiot House also has an orchard, so there'll be a need for presses and scratters and the like. Cider and Perry from my own trees is too good an opportunity to pass up; it's a bit like meeting a beautiful woman and finding out she's a butcher!
Of course, Mrs Idiot isn't going to allow me to spend all day in the brewery. She wants a new kitchen. That means that the old kitchen - including cupboards, work surfaces, extractor fans, ovens and sinks - will be making the move into the Idiot Brewery. Waste not, want not!
I did try to cobble together a masterplan for the conversion, but that led to tinkering with malt, hops and yeast, and rather than planning developments I made some beer instead: a nice hop-forward IPA. I figure you have to brew to identify the pros and cons of the new space.
The second attempt at planning the brewery layout resulted in a Saison infused with nettle tops. I think you can see how things are going!
I have now settled on a 'make it up as you go along' approach, allowing necessity to dictate the various developments. I have no doubt that this project could become a bit of a money-pit, one way or another.
So, if anyone has any ideas, I'd be more than happy to hear them. After all, if my one head can create a chaotic brewery, imagine what multiple ill-conceived ideas will throw up!
