Beantown Brews: A Boston Beer Blog

I just finished bottled conditioning five gallons of Belgian white and there is another five gallons of hefeweizen hot on its heels that should be ready in another week. I’ll post the recipes later this week.

With these two batches I have successfully brewed my last two summer batches and the remainder of my all-extract brews. While I am sad about the end of the summer seasonal beer, I am excited to be making progress toward all-grain brewing.

That being said, I need to make sure that that I am moving slowly and carefully toward that end; I don’t want to take on too much too quickly and mess up my brew.

After reading up on some material in The Complete Joy of Homebrewing and Brewer’s Association homesite, I am going to reign in my enthusiasm and start doing partial grain brewing with malt extract and specialty grains.

Why the baby-steps? Between full-time work, planning a wedding and starting Graduate school in September I want to make sure that I am not taking on too much. Can you hear the tiny violins playing yet? Life isn’t all bad when you have to divide your attention between so many wonderful things. This is a transitional step that will let me become more familiar with grain brewing without having to change much of the equipment I am currently using.

Now my only dilmna is – What should I brew for fall?

I have an oatmeal stout kit hanging about that could do the trick – but it doesn’t seem seasonally right. It is too early for pumpkin ale…

Any suggestions?

There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

5 They took a plough and plough’d him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
10 And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris’d them all.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
15 His head weel arm’d wi’ pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter’d mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
20 Show’d he began to fail.

His colour sicken’d more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

25 They’ve taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
30 And cudgell’d him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o’er and o’er.

They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
35 They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear’d,
40 They toss’d him to and fro.

They wasted, o’er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us’d him worst of all,
For he crush’d him between two stones.

45 And they hae taen his very heart’s blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
50 Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
‘Twill make your courage rise.

‘Twill make a man forget his woe;
‘Twill heighten all his joy;
55 ‘Twill make the widow’s heart to sing,
Tho’ the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
60 Ne’er fail in old Scotland!