Cheers!

There’s a bar-restaurant not far from where we live called Granite City. It’s become a chain and so the "micro-brewery" in back isn’t really one, because the chain, in total, brews more than 50,000 barrels of beer a year. On the other hand, the setup in each place is micro-brewery in style, because they make beer in each bar-restaurant. The master brewer in the St. Louis Park one has become my source for micro-breweries. Kevin has a degree in chemistry and in biology, and actually persuaded his biology professor to allow the class to make beer one semester. His interest, you see, is both professional and passionate, a marvelous combination!

I had lunch there yesterday – their Asian chicken salad is to die for – and took advantage of a beverage offer they have. Instead of a glass of beer, they will bring out six small glasses of different beers. I’m not a beer drinker, mostly because I don’t like the bitter flavor of hops. But this is research. As I’ve been saying, a character in the novel I’m writing owns a micro-brewery. So sitting at Granite City, enjoying a delicious salad, talking with the master brewer, and tasting six very different kinds of beer is a tax-deductible research expense. Have I mentioned (more than five or six times) than I love my work?

Starting with the darkest, I tasted Broad Ax Stout first. This beer is almost black. The head is meager and cream-colored. It has a thick, creamy texture, and there are undertones of something like coffee or maybe chocolate. Kevin says this is entirely a product of the malt (roasted barley) and the yeast – different mixes produce different flavors. The stout wasn’t as hoppy as some stouts – Guiness almost bites your tongue off.

Next was Brother Benedict’s Bock, a dark copper color. I almost liked this one, it was not very hoppy at all, and had a "malty," roast-grain flavor that was very nice.

Then came a blend of Bock and a light lager, a copper-colored beer that was, well, beer. Have I mentioned that these are all Granite City’s own beers?

Then Duke "IPA" – India Pale Ale, a light copper beer that had a distinctly citrus flavor, very refreshing and unusual. I was sure there was a grapefruit peel in its background, but Kevin says nope.

Then the golden Spring Ale, fresh from the fermentation vessel, a light-colored beer that had a taste that actually made me think of grass and flowers.

Last was the Northern Light Lager, which was extremely pale in color, light in flavor, and seemed to be about half ginger-ale. This is a beer for people who don’t like beer.

Interestingly, there is only about one or one-and-a-half percent difference in alcohol level between the darkest and lightest of these beers.

The reason I am late posting this morning is because we are having our carpets cleaned and I was so busy shoving furniture around last night, I forgot all about writing a post.

And I apologize to those of you who know, somewhat vaguely, that there is a beverage called beer, and don’t wish to know more about it.

Bears and Beer

Weeks ago I went to a knit and crochet festival at the Mall of America. Lots of booths, lots of free information and even lessons, and LOTS of people. One place was selling little kits for knitting Teddy bears, the completed bears to be sent to a post office box and then to Africa to be distributed to AIDs orphans. I bought the kit, because the pattern looked easy – it was – but it has taken me until now to get the darn thing finished. And while it’s a long way from being really well done, it’s also an attractive little toy. I wish I were a better, and more importantly, a faster knitter. Maybe if I’d chosen the kit with a pattern for crocheting the bear . . . No, I’m even worse at crochet than at knitting. I’d like to make more of these bears, and I’d like to add some of the decorative effects other people have made, such as hats and skirts. Will I? Probably not. Still, I’ll keep the pattern; I’ve got a lot of scrap yarn. Here’s the web site for anyone interested: http://www.motherbearproject.org/

I’ve been studying beer. As I mentioned in a previous post, I need a way to bring my main suspect and the murder victim together in a quarrel, and since his sole interest seems to be getting drunk, I am giving her a bar. But my books being set in cozy-land, the bar couldn’t be the usual dark, smoky (well, formerly smoky) place where hard-handed sons of soil and factory gather to share bitter stories of crop failure and lay-offs. Instead, Leona Cunningham will be partners with Billie Leslie in a “brew-pub,” a combination beer-only bar and small-capacity brewery. She makes fringe beers: dark ales, porter, German-style lagers and barley wines in a brewery set-up that takes up nearly half of her brew-pub, which I am calling The Barleywine. Barley wine and porter have a higher alcoholic content than ordinary beer, which is what attracts the attention of Bryan Brecht, my doomed alcoholic.

But all this means I have to learn about making beer.

Beer is a very old beverage. The ancient Sumerians, who invented writing, wrote about beer. Brewing beer is described in ancient Egyptian wall paintings. It’s hard to believe its age when you visit a modern brewery, with its temperature-controlled stainless-steel tanks, specific-gravity measurements, and exotic machinery such as calandria and plate heat exchangers. Of course, experiments in brewing beer using the most antique methods generally produce a drink that is appallingly awful. It’s a wonder the custom of brewing survived these early experiments. The basic recipe is simple: dampen barley and let it just begin to sprout. Then roast it, crush it, and put it in a pot with water. The roasted grain is called “malt” and the mix is called “mash.” Boil the mash for a few hours, which will convert the starch in it into sugars. Strain out the solids. The remaining liquid is called “wort.” The wort is heated again and the flowers of a plant called “hops” are added, along with other flavorings if desired (licorice was recommended in an eighteenth-century recipe). The wort is cooled and poured into a vessel that can be closed, but with the ability to exhaust gasses that will form without letting contaminants in to join the fun and spoil the flavor. To the wort, add yeast. For the making of beer there are at least sixty varieties of yeast, each with its own talent. Yeast will turn the sugars in the wort into alcohol and gas, making the wort into beer. This takes awhile; after about three weeks it is merely “green beer,” cloudy and tasting of malt. It needs to go into bottles or barrels for several months to complete fermentation. (Note: if you follow the above recipe, you are not going to get something wonderful; the process is far more complicated than that (lautering, anyone?) if you want a delicious, refreshing, intoxicating potable every time.)

Am I going to try making beer? No. Why should I, when local liquor stores and micro-breweries offer numerous varieties for far, far less than the equipment I’d need to make my own (probably) cloudy, smelly, vile-tasting beer?

WHOOPS!

I had to get to a "Career Day" fair at a local high school and was so busy making last-minute preparations and then getting out in the morning that I forgot to create and post a blog. I apologize.

These career day events can be terrific as well as an awful nuisance. Today we were faced with teens determined to show no interest whatsoever and it was like digging for diamonds in the mud during a monsoon while deaf to get even a slight indication of interest. At the same time, now and again a slight flicker of interest would show on a face despite all efforts, and when I offered a two-page handout on How to Write a Mystery Story, several drifted by after the class to unobtrusively pick up a copy. I was fortunate to share my presentation with a young man who, with a cousin, has set off on the small-press route to publishing children's stories. He was personable, funny, intelligent, engaging and between the two of us (anyone who writes about murder simply must stir a teen's heart to some small degree) we did all right the three times we did our thing. I only wish we had known we'd be working together, as I know we could have done better in collaboration. Maybe next year. We both handed out bookmarks, and perhaps some of the teens will bother to try our books.

This past weekend Ellen and I drove in horrible weather to Chicago (well, Rosemont, a suburb) to attend the International Quilt Festival. I was at a table with two authors and a stitcher who had done a quilt so amazing it made me want to go home and throw my fabric away. Her name is Sieglinda (seriously!) Schoen-Smith and she did the quilt as an illustration for a children's fairy tale about tiny children-fairies who live underground and who come out in the spring to paint the flowers. Gorgeous, gorgeous work, applique and embroidery. (See http://www.quilts.com/webcast0325/JudgedShow/Best%20of%20Show_Master%20Awards/Mother%20Earth%20and%20Her%20Children.jpg.html) Tiny, tiny stitches on the faces of the children. Advanced quilters would stand and stare at her work then shake their heads and walk off. We did the show Thursday evening and all day Friday, then Saturday drove to Palos Heights where I spoke to a stitchers group and sold books after a delicious luncheon.

Tuesday I am going to interview a brewmeister about microbreweries for Blackwork -- one of the main characters shares ownership in one. (I need a reason for her to rub up against the murder victim and quarrel with him, and since he's a drunk this seemed a good way. It also gives me an excuse to learn about microbreweries.)