Carrot Seed Ale

wild carrot (Daucus carota)

Anyone who has tried the seeds of parsley or celery already has a general idea as to the flavour profile of carrot seeds. These plants (as well as dill, fennel, cumin, lovage and parsnip among many others) are all members of the Apiaceae, a botanical family. Although unique, all of these plant seeds have a recognizeable pungent, aromatic and almost ‘pine-y’ aspect to their aroma and flavour. This characteristic set of attributes was certainly not overlooked centuries ago when the seeds of wild or cultivated carrots (the plant Daucus carota) were used as a complimentary ingredient or substitute for hops in beer. I have paired wild harvested carrot seeds with 2 different hop varieties into what I hope will turn out to be a very beautiful combination of earthy aromatics and complex bitterness.


INGREDIENTS:

4 gallons water
3 litres liquid amber barely malt extract
2 ounces freshly ground ripe carrots seeds (1 ounce = 60 min. boil; 1 ounce = 10 min. boil)
30 g both Perle and Fuggle hop (Fuggle = 60 min. boil; Perle = 10 min. boil)
7 grams be-bittered ale yeast


INSTRUCTIONS:

Please refer to my older posts for more of a step-by-step guide to brewing beer. I feel like at this point I am just repeating myself over and over, especially for those of you that are reading this blog every once and a while and probably getting tired of it. For my next batch of beer (still in the works), I think I am going to try putting the wort through a secondary fermentation.

This is basically just draining the beer, after it has fermented and gone dormant once, into a new sterilized fermenter and letting it undergo another partial fermentation. By doing this you can be sure that the final product has had the majority of the available sugars converted into alcohol. Because the secondary fermentation works with relatively little sugar available in the wort, the vast majority of which was eaten up during the primary, this next fermentation is slower and more complete, digesting some of the more complex sugars.


CREEPING CHARLIE ’13 UPDATE:

This isn’t going to make anyone happy. It certainly didn’t improve the quality of my day. About 2 days into fermentation, the 6 gallon capacity glass carboy that Charlie was humming away inside exploded, sending frothy herbal goodness sloshing all over fellow BFB-er Robert Nagy’s basement bathroom. It was a pretty big bummer. I think that this new addition of the Creep was too good to be true: and the pure awesomeness that it held within it’s beer-y depths was too much for physics to handle. Next time, only 4 gallon batches in the 6 gallon carboy. Either that, or use a bucket which was a bit more give.

According to other BFB-er Chris Veska, the airlock may have prevented enough CO2 from escaping, a detail which could have saved this brew from it’s premature end. Even putting tin foil over the opening of the carboy, once the fermentation is in full swing, is enough to protect the wort inside from any ‘badies’ that might try to get it. Makes sense, seeing as a beer in full fermentation is pretty aggressive. Oh well, live and learn. This also means that Creep ’14 is going to have to be even more serious than ’13 or ’12.

Creeping Charlie ’13

Creeping Charlie

Glechoma hederacea or creeping-Charlie

I can’t believe I didn’t post the first trial run of this highly anticipated recipe that Robert and myself conjured up last summer. You can’t possibly understand how upset I am with myself over this. I really liked that beer and was really looking forward to making it and trying it out. ‘Creeping Charlie’, or simply ‘Creep’, was made with pale and dark liquid malt extract, Cascade hops and a whole bunch of freshly harvested ground-ivy (Glechoma hederacea), which is a thin, sprawling perennial herb in the mint family with fragrant, kidney shaped leaves and small purple tubular flowers emerging in late spring and early summer. It was ‘heady’, bold, more well-balanced than bitter, and strange. So, it’s the kind of stuff I like.

Ground-ivy, also known as creeping Charlie by some gardeners, is an easily overlooked plant native to temperate and northern Europe (invasive in North America) that has a rich history as a hop-substitute in traditional beer recipes. It was deliberately added to batches to add it’s own slightly minty, floral bitterness and to make the beer more ‘heady’ due to the saponins (chemicals that produce suds) contained in the plant that boil into the wort. Unfortunately, the use of ground-ivy practically vanished after it was replaced by hops as the standard bittering and preservative herb in the late 1800’s via the German Beer Purity Act which expanded later to include all of Europe.

The exact amounts of ingredients added to the first recipe have been lost due to my terrible book keeping skills, that thankfully since last year, have improved considerably. So this time around, I actually decided to do the responsible thing and carefully measure out everything that I could and write it down. Brilliant.

Just making some delicious beery soup.

Just making some delicious beery soup.

INGREDIENTS

– 5 gallons water
– 4 litres pale liquid amber barley malt extract
– 40 grams mystery hops (possibly Cascade) for bittering
– 10 grams Fuggle hops for bittering and flavour
– 30 grams Perle hops for flavour and aroma
This is my favourite ingredient: a large paper LCBO bag loosely stuffed about halfway with the dried, uncut trailing flowering stems of ground-ivy. Understand how much that is? Good, let’s proceed.
– 13 grams Nottingham English ale yeast
– 1 Irish moss tablet


PROCEDURE

For the sake of not being incredibly redundant, I am going to keep this procedure short and sweet, as they say. If you would like more of a how-to / common mistakes / details guide to making beer in your kitchen, please consult my past 2 or 3 posts where I discuss the specifics of doing this properly and not like someone that’s going to wreck their whole kitchen and spoil their beer. Thanks friends!

Bring water to a boil. Add malt extract, about 85% of the ground-ivy, and maybe-Cascade hops. Set timer to 60 minutes and stir ingredients in until a boil has returned. After 30 minutes has passed, add the Fuggle hops and stir them in a bit. After 50 minutes have passed, add the Irish moss tablet, the rest of the ground-ivy and the Perle hops. Stir until the tablet dissolves, about 3-5 minutes. One the timer stops, remove the wort from the heat and leave to cool to room temperature. Once cooled, strain into your fermenter and top up the water level until 5 gallons is reached. Stir to mix, pitch yeast and insert airlock.

I really enjoyed the infamous Creeper 2012. It was a very interesting experiment and I leaned a lot about the flavour profile, aroma and texture that it infuses into the beer. It was more of a sweeter, porter / weak Belgian ale hybrid that was a bit all over the place. Oh, that’s right! We also added brown sugar to the recipe. I remember that now. That is what gave it the sweetness common to candied ales which are made with caramelized sugar. So yeah, it was pretty wacky and unpredictable. Probably fooled around a little to much, but whatever. It’s whatever it was and I enjoyed drinking it, especially after it ages for around 6 months to a year. It chilled out a bit. But the allure of an American Pale Ale that’s quite malty, but also refreshingly bitter, citrusy, and possesses that dark, floral bitter-mint spice of creeping Charlie. Here’s take two.

Earthhop Gruit Ale

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greater burdock (Arctium lappa)

Jordhumle is an old-time Scandinavian name for yarrow (Achillea millefolium) meaning earth hops. This is a play on the plant’s historical use as a bittering and preservative agent in ales commonly used in communities until the 18th century, when bitter resin in the unripe female flowers of hops (Humuls lupulus) became the preferred ingredient of choice. It’s also a term, among many that are no longer in common use, that can describe any herbs that were used as a substitute for hops up until the point that hops was legislated in as the only legal herbal preservative in beer.

Anyhow, I found this old nickname extremely appropriate to describe my newest gruit style ale, which features the bitter, resinous scented flowering tops of yarrow and the deep, woodsy aromatic and bitter-sweet tasting roots of burock (Arctium lappa). Burdock, the plant that graciously supplies us with burs to get caught in our clothes, bears a 1-3+ foot long taproot which has long been used as an ingredient in strengthening, blood purifying tonic beers taken in the spring to cleanse the body from a monotonous winter diet lacking in fresh fruits and vegetables. The roots, rich in iron, calcium and other minerals, can also be used to improve the function of the liver and revive a sluggish digestive system by stimulating digestion before and after a meal.

Yarrow was an even more popular ingredient in centuries old beer recipes, being added for it’s potent anti-inflammatory and anti-bacterial properties.  The leaves and flowering tops can be used medicinally to prevent headaches, clear sinus congestion, sooth sore throats, quell aching teeth, relieve thirst, improve digestion, prevent heavy and painful menstruation, fight viral and bacterial infections, stimulate the recovery of injuries, stop heavy bleeding, disinfect wounds and assist with countless other maladies. The inclusion of yarrow in a recipe was also believed to make the resulting beer more intoxicating, much the same as Labrador-tea (Ledum groenlandicum and spp.) which has narcotic-like effects when taken in large enough doses.

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Dried yarrow flowers and fresh burdock root

I have been wanting to use both of these herbs in a recipe for a long time. I am sure that they could both be featured in their own individual recipes to extenuate their own unique personalities, and that is most definitely going to happen at some point. I am hoping that this recipe will create a slightly bitter ale with a deep aroma of damp moss and rotting logs complimented with a balanced resinous, woodsy and floral flavour.

INGREDIENTS

5 gallons water
3 litres liquid amber barley malt extract
6 ounces fresh or 3 ounces dried burdock root, coarsely sliced.
1 ounce recently dried flowering tops of yarrow
20 grams Cascade hops
1 powered Irish moss tablet (helps with clarity)
15 grams de-bittered ale yeast

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Bring either 1 or 1-5 gallons of water to a boil. Make sure that the pot is only around 50% full in order to accommodate the addition of the next few ingredients.

2. Carefully add the liquid amber barely malt extract to the water. This is going to be an annoying, sticky mess no matter what but be advised to take some precautions. Stir while adding the malt so it doesn’t burn at the bottom of the pan. Try to get as much of it out of the containers as possible. It might even be worth while to remove the pot from the heat until all of the malt is in there and dissolved evenly.

3. Bring the water back up to a boil and add the sliced burdock root chunks and yarrow flowers. The yarrow can be added whole because it limps up quite a bit. Set timer for 30 minutes.

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Freshly added herbs simmering in the boiling malt

4. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook the herbs and the malt for 15 minutes. Stir occasionally, as the herbs like to float.

5. Once 15 minutes has passed, add the Irish moss tablet and the 20 grams of Cascade hops, sprinkling them slowly into the wort. Stir until the Irish tablet completely dissolves, about 2 or 3 minutes. Hops has a tendency to make the brew foam like crazy, so keep stirring and turning down the heat until you have a consistent simmer. If you full on boil it, the wort is going to throw up all over your stove. Whenever you are not stirring, you can have the lid on the pot to retain heat but with a slight crack. Also, don’t leave the room after the hops is in there. Keep an eye on it for the first 5 minutes especially once it goes in.

6. Once 30 minutes has passed, turn off the heat. Remove the now finished wort into a location where it can sit and cool down, with the lid covering it. I stick in a thermometer to monitor the temperature as it cools. You want the wort down to at least 100 °F (optimally 70-75 °F) before you proceed with the next step.

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If your beer looks like soup, you’re doing it right.

7. Using something like potassium metabisulphite or Diversol, sanitize a carboy or fermenting bucket, funnel, strainer and airlock (make sure that it is fitted to your fermenter).

8. Strain and pour the wort through a funnel into your fermenter. Top up the carboy with water until a total of 4 gallons is reached. I wrote in with a permanent marker the measurements on the outside of my glass carboy, which makes this easy. I suggest you do that too, on whatever you are fermenting in for future reference.

8. Pitch in the 30 grams of de-bittered ale yeast (It is a good idea to let it sit out the night before so it is room temperature when you add it) into your fermenter with a funnel and insert the airlock. Done. Now clean up the huge mess you’ve made and wait 5-7 days until fermentation is complete.

Winter Herb-Beer Review

Winter Herb-BeerThis beer has been ready for a few weeks now and has successfully carbonated even though the primitive scale that I was using to measure out the dextrose (corn sugar) to mix with the fermented wort was faulty and cryptic to decipher. It took a little bit longer to fully cardbonate but it was definitely a success in that regard. All in all: this is one of the most laid-back and easy drinking beers that I have ever made. Let’s review what’s in it: water (duh), amber malt extract, wild carrot seeds, yarrow flowers, rosemary sprigs and yeast (double duh).

The flavour is light, well balanced and has a hint of cider-like dryness. The head is light but sustaining and if you dump this one into the glass it will remain for the entire duration of your drink. The color is a pale orange/light amber and quite clear (thanks Irish moss!). The aroma is sweet and mellow with a strange musk; possibly due to the yeast giving off wierd flavours because of the addition of unconventional herbal ingredients. The flavour is very pleasant and floral, with some herbal tang and an aftertaste of mild bitterness from the small amount of hops added (50 grams of Cascade).

This is a winner; I really couldn’t have hoped for anything better. I don’t mean to toot my own horn (best expression) by saying all this stuff, but I think after many attempts at herbal wierd beers I am starting to get the hang of what to expect from the unorthodox ingredients that I continually experiment with. I have had some good ones as well as my share of dives; let’s not forget the embarassing folly of the licorice/valerian beer that Rob Nagy and I partnered on which ended up culturing various blue and green moulds instead of fermenting cleanly. Oh well, It probably would have tasted like sickingly sweet sweaty socks anyways since Valerian (the roots of the plant Valeriana officinalis) has a reputation for putting people off. I personally like the flavour, but I’m a wierdo.

May 2013 be filled with more successful homebrews. I think I deserve another.

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Winter Herb-Beer

Ever since my Licorice Ale was ready about a week ago, I had my eyes set on producing another homebrew. Best not to run out of anything, right? At least that is my train of thought. Like a lot of the other beers that I have made (some of which featuring the mathamatical and logistical skills of Robert Nagy) this one was contemplated for a long while, although the fine tunings of how much/when to add it/how long to have it boiling were finalized on a whim. But that’s fine with me, I have developed a bit of a liking for haphazard beers that come together as they are being made. It’s sort of like with cooking. As long as you know the basics, you can’t really go wrong.

This recipe has quite a bit in it. I was originally going to use just Cascade hops and the seeds of the wild carrot plant (Daucus carota) to provide flavour and bittering, but at the last minute decided to include some other herbs/ingredients that I had lying around and probably were not going to use for anything anyways.

Batch size: 4 gallons. Ingredients: 4 gallons water, 4.4 pounds (1.5 litres) liquid amber malt extract, 50 grams Cascade hops, 3 ounces dried and crushed wild carrot seed, 1 ounce dried yarrow (Achilles millefolium) flowers, a few sprigs of fresh rosemary, 1 irish moss tablet and ale yeast.

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The hot wort cooling down outside next to the bbq.

Instructions: I brought 1.5 gallons of water to a boil on the stove and then added all of the liquid malt extract, stirring in order to avoid the malt sticking to the bottom of the pot and burning. Right after I added all of the hops, and then started the timer at 20 minutes. After letting the hops/malt to boil for 5 minutes, I added 1 irish moss tablet and then allowed the wort to boil for another 5 minutes.

With 10 minutes remaining, I added the yarrow flowers and wild carrot seeds, stirring to dissolve them and to ensure even cooking. After another 5 minutes, I added the sprigs of rosemary and let the wort boil for the last 5 minutes. Then I transfered the wort (with all of the ingredients still in it) outside near the door to cool down. I waited about 5 or 6 hours for the wort to cool to room temperature (18-23 degrees C / 65-75 degrees F) and then strained the wort into a sterilized glass carboy where fermentation will take place.

Since I only brought 1.5 gallons to a boil instead of trying to boil all 4 gallons of water at once, which is totally impractical unless you have all the right equipment, I needed to top up this concentrated wort with 2.5 gallons of water to bring it up to a grand total of 4 gallons. Then, in went the yeast and on with the airlock. Process complete.

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Yeast freshly pitched into the room temperature wort.

Progress: In less than 24 hours this beer was feverishly fermenting and has started to taper off now (I made this on Thursday night and now it is Monday afternoon) so I estimate that by the middle of this week it will be done fermenting and ready to be added to bottles to condition and carbonate. Today (Tuesday) the activity has almost completely stopped. Note: home brewing is extra fantastic.

Licorice Ale

** I would like to begin this post with an apology to everyone other than those involved with this blog that may be reading these sets of publications. You’re buddies here at Beers for Breakfast totally dropped the ball, and stop posting for a few months. We all promise to post as we were before; semi-consistently and hopefully somewhat interesting. Thanks ya’ll.**

DSC_0004Licorice (Glycyrrhiza glabra) is a plant deeply entwined with early European folklore and has enjoyed many centuries of use as a choice medicinal plant. The roots contain an array of chemical compounds which impose a positive influence on the liver as well as strengthen and regulate the digestive, nervous and respiratory systems. The roots are also anti-spasmodic, mildly pain-releaving and have wonderfully soothing and healing capabilities.

Most of us know of licorice not as a therapeutic herb, but as the flavouring for those black rubberoid candies. Although it’s true that licorice was used as a sweetener centuries ago in traditional Europe, the flavouring used in those candies is derived from extracts of anise (Pimpinella anisum) or fennel (Foeniculum vulgare), two unrelated plants. Licorice root is palatable and incredibly sweet, much unlike the sour-tanginess of anise or fennel.

Licorice root also has a long history of being an ingredient in beer. It was added in generous quantaties to porters and stouts to make them thicker, darker and produce a longer lasting head. Also, The sugars that are contained in licorice cannot be digested by the yeast, and therefore linger in the beer after it has fermented and provide a glamorous and unusual sweetness that is like nothing else.

So why not make a beer with licorice, seeing how medicinally valuable it is and how agreeable it seems to be with enhancing some important qualities in beer? Sure. Sound’s good. I made this 3 gallon batch with liquid amber malt extract, hops I collected growing wild along a bike trail just outside the town of Lindsay, and a few chunks of whole licorice root. The only issue I had with producing this one was that it didn’t ferment initially. I must have pitched the yeast into the wort when it was still too warm, thereby killing all my yeast buddies. After adding the yeast a second time I saw successful fermentation starting.

Because of that, you can definitely taste the yeast in this beer. But it’s fine. Besides that, I really like everything else about it. The color is amber, as one would expect when using amber malt, and quite cloudy. The texture is smooth, soft and creamy; aroma intensely sweet with some dried apricots but overall uniquely that of licorice root. The flavour is fascinating; faintly malty with a possible overdose of floral, earthy sweetness. Pour this one rather slow, so as to not be overwhelmed with head. At 6.5%, this super-sweet treat is quite a bit to handle. I am definitely going to let a couple of these boys sit for a few years and see what this might turn into.

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