The Pitfalls of Expediency

Has your brew day been reduced to a few hours, leaving you to opt for efficiency over precision in your brewing? Based on his experience,

offers you some “expert” tips on avoiding some of the pitfalls of this approach.

“No plan enemy.”

survives

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—Prussian Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke The Elder

I USED TO BE VERY DOGMATIC

about my brewing. I would draft recipes following strict guidelines after having reviewed dozens of sources. I’d measure specific grain weights to the nearest half ounce (one does not simply substitute Briess Caramel 20L with Weyerman’s Carared20l). I excessively toiled over hitting my mash temperature while reviewing three different thermometers placed at varying depths. Despite attempts to plan and tightly control the process, there would always be that metaphorical Liège fortification that would stymie my advance on Paris.

Through practice, though, these issues became small and never caused much of a headache. However, something has changed, and recent brew days are full of World War One–era Belgian bastions requiring 420 mm cannon fire for pacification. The change is time—i no longer have the luxury of a “brew day.” Life has turned this sacred time dedicated to fretting over beer into a 4-hour window filled with constant interruptions and distractions. I must attempt to wage a two-front war, hoping to deal a decisive blow on the Western Front for homebrew before dealing with the slog of the East. All notions of tradition and precision are sacrificed in the name of efficiency.

However, efficiency is a fickle tactic, and if you don’t handle it with care, it can leave your flank exposed, resulting in more mistakes and an even longer brew day than the most dire scenarios could have

predicted. The following bits of “wisdom” are designed to help every stressed brewer avoid the many pitfalls of expediency.

Never mill your grain at a local brewery.

I buy most of my ingredients in bulk, so I can assemble a recipe without visiting my local homebrew shop for at least a few batches. Conversely, I tend to visit my local craft brewery quite often, and I’ve developed cordial relationships with the brewers on staff. Not having invested in my own mill, I’m always tempted to ask to use their mill. After all, how cool is it to mill thirty pounds of grain in thirty seconds all while filling a growler and enjoying a pint? Two birds, one grist. I avoid the arthritic crank-elbow of a human-powered mill or the numb wrist of a drill-powered mill. On the surface, this seems like a win-win—a tasty beer enjoyed while a brew day is prepped.

Not so fast. These commercial brewers have their mills precisely spec’d out for their