Brew Poetry

All poems ©Craig Wagner 2012-2018, except as noted.

On Brewing


Brewing makes a product, but it's a process to engage.

Focus not on tasty stouts, but on the broader human stage.

Since brewing does make liquid, surely use it for good ends.

So share with mates and also those who soon will be your friends.

--- Craig Wagner

The Brewer's Clarity

Note: the numbers in the poem are footnotes...


The humble hackneyed brewer,

Seeks a beer with clarity,

That explodes in golden brightness,

With no flecks of haze to see.


His test: look in a mirror,

Through a raised and brew-filled mug,

Success is if its clear enough,

To shave his other mug.


It's hard to get such purity,

Things confound at every turn,

But judicious constant care doth yield,

A brew that all will yearn.


So he boils with pure spring water,

Adds the fining (1) Irish Moss (2),

Then pours from atop the sludgy breaks (3),

To remove the brewing dross.


He blow-offs (4) the roiling krausen, (5)

Allows the yeast to slowly settle,

Then racks (6) from atop the chalky trub (7)

The nectar of the kettle!


The secondary (8) provides another cleanse,

Cold lagering (9) removes the rest.

This continual distillation yields

The brewers very best.


It reminds me of self improvement,

Scrubbing from our inner store,

Darkened hazy tendencies,

That cloud the shining core.


Both are distilling actions,

To wash dark specks away,

No shortcuts or shortsightedness,

Be diligent, I say!


So...

Work hard in Life's brew garden,

Keep impurities at bay.

Then share with friends your golden joy,

And toast the night away.

--- Craig Wagner


Footnotes (who ever heard of a foot-noted poem?):

(1) Finings (Fine-ings). Any of a number of brewing additives designed to remove suspended particles from the beer to achieve clarity. The all generally work by causing molecules to aggregate into particles through ionic attraction, then allowing these larger particles to settle to the bottom of the container.

(2) Irish Moss. The commercial name for a sea weed that is a common beer fining agent.

(3) Breaks. One of two accumulations of coagulated proteins created during the brewing process. The hot break forms during boiling, the cold break forms as the boiled wort is cooled. Although the breaks provide some nutrients for yeast, they also contribute to beer cloudiness and are therefore removed.

(4) Blow-off. A mechanical process of enabling krausen to be expelled from a closed-fermation system typically through a tube. It is driven by the accumulating pressure of CO2 created during fermentation.

(5) Krausen (Kroy-zen). The foam of yeast and proteins that forms on the surface of fermenting beer. Removal of krausen not only contributes to clearer beer but also removes substances that contribute to hang-overs.

(6) Rack. The process of siphoning beer off of accumulated sediments to a new container.

(7) Trub (troob). The sediment that forms at the bottom of a fermenter composed of yeast cells, residual proteins, hops and other precipitated particulates.

(8) Secondary. For greatest beer clarity, a two-step fermentation process is used. A first fermentation occurs in a "primary" fermenter where the vast majority of haze is removed. For sticklers, an additional fermentation in the "secondary" fermenter is used.

(9) Cold lagering. (log - er -ing). The process of holding a beer at a cold temperature (usually 36-49 degrees F) after fermentation to allow the taste to mellow and smoothen. It also provides one last step for clarification.

The Flowing Tap


When all the brewing’s over,

And the hubbub has left the air,

Alone I clean the brewery,

Savoring time to be aware.


I do so like the quiet,

After the raucous day with friends,

A slow and steady outward breath,

An act that seems to cleanse.


I ponder the raging gush of life,

It's like standing in a river’s flow,

We feel, we move, we brace, we clutch,

Oh that water won't let us go!


And that river is ever changing,

No two waves push just the same,

Endless power in motion,

Is the name of Nature's game.


So I turn to another Nature's flow,

As I pull myself a draft,

To see it gush, and splash, and foam,

A river made through my craft.


And what I've poured has no compare,

Like the river, each flow unique.

So I find a joy in the moment's brew,

As it softly begins to speak.


"Like you the brew is transient,

Ye both have a head of steam,

Yet both go flat with passing time,

And fade to a pleasant dream."


So when I'm gone and delight the worms,

Pour a Kölsch upon my grave,

And drink and shout and dance about,

So I'm sure to feel your wave.


Then trundle home but don't forget,

Dive deep in the river's flow,

Enjoy the brew the moment brings,

For soon you too must go!

--- Craig Wagner

Shared Bounty


In the oak’s shadow

At the edge of the woods

Deer nose the spent grain -

A brewer’s gift.

--- Craig Wagner

Why I Brew


Sparge pots and relationships warming.

Wort and conversation bubbling.

Mash kettles and laughter overflowing.

Depleted mugs and energy reserves refilling.


Creating good moments with friends.

--- Craig Wagner

Heather Ale

A GALLOWAY LEGEND

From the bonny bells of heather

They brewed a drink long-syne,

Was sweeter far then honey,

Was stronger far than wine.


They brewed it and they drank it,

And lay in a blessed swound [swound = state of fainting]

For days and days together

In their dwellings underground.


There rose a king in Scotland,

A fell man to his foes,

He smote the Picts in battle,

He hunted them like roes.


Over miles of the red mountain

He hunted as they fled,

And strewed the dwarfish bodies

Of the dying and the dead.


Summer came in the country,

Red was the heather bell;

But the manner of the brewing

Was none alive to tell.


In graves that were like children's

On many a mountain head,

The Brewsters of the Heather

Lay numbered with the dead.


The king in the red moorland

Rode on a summer's day;

And the bees hummed, and the curlews

Cried beside the way.


The king rode, and was angry,

Black was his brow and pale,

To rule in a land of heather

And lack the Heather Ale.


It fortuned that his vassals,

Riding free on the heath,

Came on a stone that was fallen

And vermin hid beneath.


Rudely plucked from their hiding,

Never a word they spoke;

A son and his aged father --

Last of the dwarfish folk.


The king sat high on his charger,

He looked on the little men;

And the dwarfish and swarthy couple

Looked at the king again.


Down by the shore he had them;

And there on the giddy brink --

"I will give you life, ye vermin,

For the secret of the drink."


There stood the son and father,

And they looked high and low;

The heather was red around them,

The sea rumbled below.


And up and spoke the father,

Shrill was his voice to hear:

"I have a word in private,

A word for the royal ear.


"Life is dear to the aged,

And honour a little thing;

I would gladly sell the secret,"

Quoth the Pict to the king.


His voice was small as a sparrow's,

And shrill and wonderful clear:

"I would gladly sell my secret,

Only my son I fear.


"For life is a little matter,

And death is nought to the young;

And I dare not sell my honour

Under the eye of my son.


Take him, O king, and bind him,

And cast him far in the deep;

And it's I will tell the secret

That I have sworn to keep."


They took the son and bound him,

Neck and heels in a thong,

And a lad took him and swung him,

And flung him far and strong,


And the sea swallowed his body,

Like that of a child of ten; --

And there on the cliff stood the father,

Last of the dwarfish men.


"True was the word I told you:

Only my son I feared;

For I doubt the sapling courage

That goes without the beard.


But now in vain is the torture,

Fire shall never avail:

Here dies in my bosom

The secret of Heather Ale."

- Robert Lewis Stevenson


NOTE TO HEATHER ALE

Heather ales ("leann fraoich") were brewed in Scotland for over 4000 years, but the style was almost forgotten until the Williams Brothers Brewing Company revived it (as Fraoch Heather Ale) using a 17th century recipe. A type of Scottish “gruit” ale, this style predates the use of hop flowers as a bittering agent in beer, so other agents were used instead – hence the heather.

Brewed with heather flowers and bog myrtle (also known as sweet gale), Fraoch Heather Ale is a unique window into the culture of the early Britons. An attractive rich orange color, this beer draws you in from the first sniff – you’ll know it’s something a bit different right away. Expect a distinct herbal aroma with spice notes and a bit of honey. On the palate, the distinct character of the heather is apparent right away, while the British pale and caramel malts provide a nice, lightly sweet, and fairly robust backdrop for the unique herbal spiciness. The honey-like impression from the nose comes through in the malt flavor as well, adding a balancing tone to the beer. The result is a wonderful mix of herbal, spicy and sweet notes, providing a character reminiscent of spiced tea or even mulled wine, and complexity that lasts all the way to the finish where it culminates in a spicy, almost apple-like impression. This beer has taken home numerous awards, including the Gold Medal at two successive World Beer Championships conducted by the Beverage Testing Institute in Chicago in 1996 and 1997. A versatile partner for many a meal, we recommend pairing it with salmon and other seafood, roast chicken and turkey, as well as rich and spicy foods.

Brewing notes: into the boiling bree of malted barley, sweet gale and flowering heather are added, then after cooling slightly the hot ale is poured into a vat of fresh heather flowers where it infuses for an hour before being fermented.