As I have mentioned in a previous post, we are getting ready move house and today’s job was to clear out the cupboard under the stairs. Since getting into beer brewing, I have not only given up on the wine-making but also lost track of all the finished wines that I had left to condiiton in said cupboard. My delight in rediscovering these dusty old bottles must had matched that of Tischendorf at St Catherine’s Monastery. Most have been there for several months or even years and are surely ready to drink by now. One of the things that puts people off making wine is the agonisingly long wait between bottling and drinking. But now, having forgotten all about them, I have a vast selection to get stuck into – over 60 bottles of the stuff!!!

One slight problem….. many of them are unlabelled and I can’t for the life of me remember what they are! Its funny – at the time labelling seems like such a faff and you think “I’m not stupid, I’ll remember what this is. Its not difficult”. But I realise now that is a schoolboy error. I have 2 batches of white and 2 batches red that are mystery wines. I know that one of the whites is the pineapple and one is the mead, but they have all gotten mixed up. I have no idea about the red. Perhaps I can work it out when I open them.

Perhaps a housewarming party in the new place will be a great way to identify them and make a dent in my stocks.

We’re moving house in a few weeks before I can get on with the packing, I needed to sort out some racking. With the success of our beer making, some of my older experiments had been forgotten about. In particular, there’s the dubious Coffee Wine which has been sitting in a demijohn under the stairs for several months and has built up a solid lees. It needs racking before I try and move it, although I have given up all hope of this clearing, or even being drinkable.

Also, there’s the cider that I never intended to make. After our apple pressing day back in autumn, I brought back a 2 litre bottle of apple juice intending to drink it as juice. However, it has lain forgotten down the side of the fridge since then – its beatifully clear on a good sediment and the bottle is now incredibly pressurised. This also need racking (into glass bottles to condition) and I didn’t think this was going to be a problem. But as soon as I opened the bottle just crack, there was huge hiss of escaping gas and the contents began to seeth an bubble furiously churning up the sediment completely. I’d never seen anything like it since the Geek taught me about booby-trapping bottles of diet coke with Mento’s. Needless to say the bottling was a disaster – I ended up with two and a half bottles of opaque scrumpy which was still so fizzy I didn’t dare prime it. Will the same thing happen when I open these ones? Who knows. We haven’t tried any of the cider we made yet. We will have to set a date for a tasting session.

And next time, I think I need to make sure I allow for proper aerobic fermentation…

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The Mothership descended on Oxford this weekend amidst a shower of frozen food and BidUp TV purchases. Oh, and she also brought the Mentor. Since there is no room at the inn, they were staying at the hotel down the road by the Kassam Stadium and were keen to sample the delights of the boot fair that they see setting up each time they come. I’d never been myself but I new the kind of tat that would be on offer. And I knew I had to watch my mum like a hawk. Turn away for a second and she will have bought us some unwanted trinket, a hideous ornament, yet another toy for Bethan, or perhaps a TV (she has been trying to force one upon for ages).

On the other hand, my mum is an excellent haggler and if there was something I wanted, I was sure she would get a good price. The only thing I could think of looking out for a Rumtopf (or “Rumpot”). Its a German thing – a large ceramic jar in which you accumulate spare fruit over the summer preserved in sugar and rum for eating through the winter. Ever since Fendog told me about them I have been on the look out for one as its sounded delicious and a good way to deal with the gluts of fruit I get from the allotment. But on eBay they tend to go for about £15-20.

The very first stall we passed, I took a quick look and thought “Bingo!”. But I wasn’t interested in a bingo set. And thankfully my mum didn’t see it. The second stall…. amongst the assorted contents of a house clearance, there was a Romtopf – as good as new and totally unused. It even had the original instruction leaflet and a “History of the Rumpot”. When the guy told me he only wanted £3 for it, I didn’t even need to put the mothership into action. A bargain. I can’t wait for the summer to get this baby going.

With Trenchfoot ministering to the good folk of Banbury today, as in our former ministerial days, I shall be walking in his footsteps in a couple of weeks, so am getting in some prep this afternoon, with the carboy of ale fermenting on my desk as inspiration.

As I procrastinate, looking back through some old posts makes me realise that it’s high time we tasted some of our (well mainly Trenchfoot’s) experimental brews.  I’m particularly interested in trying some of this coffee wine, as well as maybe some of that pineaplle… there’s also my dandelion, mint and ginger wines (though I have no idea which wine is which in my cupboard). 

Of probably greatest import, however, would be the much spoken of mead taste-off.  Trenchfoot, in private conversations with the author, has goaded me, saying how much better his mead will be.  While, I fear that his thoughts may prove to be true, you know where they say the proof of puddings is…

With over two months since the last brew, and the pressure of the imminent wedding brews, a brew day was well overdue.  With Trenchfoot occupied with the ministry of the Word, I was going to be going solo, and do so properly (and importantly in these days of recession, more economically) by doing so full mash.

While Graham Wheeler was helpful (particularly in making some adaptions to my mash tun), a day as big as today had to be done under the consultation of the guru.  He had some wise words, particularly concerning mash ratios, sparging and water treatment (sadly in the rush, I forgot about the water treatment).

I was very concerned, as my mash tun doesn’t have the level of insulation of most ‘cool box’ set ups, and thought that over 90 minutes, there was likely to be a considerable drop in temperature.  The Guru had advised using a blanket, but I couldn’t see that being enough.  Wheeler also prefers the set up using a brew bucket and a manifold, and recommends cutting up a polystyrene roll mat.

During this week’s liquid lunch, Trenchfoot had mentioned he had a couple of roll mats in the attic.  So I disturbed his sermon prep to try and acquire one of these.  Sadly he was unwilling to sacrifice the luxury of future camping trips, so I had to fork out the dosh.

Sensing I couldn’t take too much advice in this uncharted territory, I gave the Rotter a call… still worried about my mash tun, and specifics of water treatment.  His approach to brewing seems to be less meticulous than the Guru’s.  However, he provided me with some potentially life-saving advice.  Apparently, using the propane boiler, even in a well-ventilated room, may lead to carbon monoxide poisining and / or explosions.  I decided to move the boiler outside.

In spite of my fears, the mash tun managed to keep its heat almost perfectly.  Following a chat with the Rotter, I made the last minute decision to switch from batch sparging (running all the wort out, then filling it up with hot (c.77 degrees) water, and draining it again) to fly sparging, keeping the mash topped up by gently pouring hot water at the same rate at the sweet liquour comes off.  I wasn’t quite sure about how much liquor to run off… I thought I’d read somewhere about it being a bad idea to run off wort that is no longer sweet, so I stopped when my hydrometer reading came out at 1.000.  I’ll have to make sure I read up before my next brew.

I had to adapt my recipe (Wheeler’s cloan of Deuchars IPA), switching East Kent Goldings in place of Fuggles as the bittering hops… decided to just finish the pack, and it turned out far more than I expected, and then my flavouring hops (Styrian Goldings).  Oh balls… I’ve just realised I forgot my Irish Moss too.  I should have dedicated less time to rugby watching, and more to brewing.

Unsure as to how efficient my mash had been, I decided to dilute my wort to reach the target original gravity stated in Wheeler.  Sadly, it turned out that my brew was closer to 18 litres than 25.  D’oh.  Considering this, I poured every drop of my wort into the carboy, even the last half litre which was full of sediment (I’m now beginning to regret this, considering there was potentially a reasonable amount of calcium bicarbonate in it).

A pleasing day, and one in which I think I’ve made enough mistakes to realise there’s plenty of room for improvement for the big upcoming brews.