BREWSTERS WHO RUN WITH THE WOLVES

Part Three

We began this whole saga two months ago with the brewing stage and particularly with the fascination that brewers have with techno- gadgets in that process. It is with this same male fascination with "stuff" (a term that brewsters use to cover everything that you guys like- from chain saws to wort chillers) that I will close this dissertation.

The bottling process divides sharply between brewsters and brewers at this point. I know- I've attended a few (when I can stay awake) meetings and a few contests rubbing elbows with brewers busily discussing the attributes of round cylinders, tall tanks, short tanks, pigs (hold the male chauvinist jokes, please) and GAUGES- mercy, have I heard it about gauges! Even my non-brewing spouse who loyally rinses bottles and caps on filling day will peruse the catalogues on the gauges pages. ( If you can say that sentence without slurring the last two words, you haven't had enough to drink.) single gauges, twin gauges, gauge cages, you name it, I've heard men extolling it. Anything with a dial, markings of some sort and a wavering needle hand just sends you into outer space. It's that male tendency to measure stuff, I guess. "Hey Fred, we're down to ten PSI. Jiggle da gas pin lock, check yer nipple and screw yer nuts down a little tighter." See what I mean? While poor Fred is having male anxiety attacks for the rest of the party over his faulty barbed adapter, the rest of the brewers run frantically around looking for the leak locator fluid, or at least a hose clamp. Brewster don't have anything more worrisome than remembering to tie a string to the bottle opener so that somebody doesn't pocket it.

The process of bottling is something you brewers seem to abandon with fervor once any of any of the following events have transpires: (a) you have won the weekly poker game and have a few spare bucks burning a hole in your pocket; (b) you didn't get a pay cut and/or were passed over for departmental cuts; (c) your wife let you carry the checkbook/ Visa/ Mastercard this month. Suddenly the pages in the brewing supply catalogue for CO2 cylinders take precedence over even the favorite back issues of Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. I've heard you rhapsodizing over shapes of tanks, sizes of tanks, numbers of gauges and hose lengths with more enthusiasm in your voices than over the topic of Cyndi Crawford's moles. I've found the dog-eared pages in the catalogues hastily stuffed in the bookrack by the upstairs toilet. I've even had to admit I've found pictures of "party pumps" tucked in the edges of the bathroom mirror that were torn out of MY brewing supply catalogues.

We brewsters take a more mundane approach to the bottling question- that is, we still bottle. Quite a few of my brewer counterparts still bottle too, but if you talk to them long enough they have usually forsaken the mere 12 ounce bottles for something bigger, such as the 22 ounce bottles. They also favor those macabre free standing bench cappers rather than the hand-held lever capper. At brewing meetings I will get up and move my seat from the bench capper typers- they would probably ask me to go along with them to look at their latest gauge or picnic tap out in the dark parking lot. No thanks. We brewsters still favor the easily attainable 12 ounce bottle. These can be had by the six pack for the for the mere bat of an eye and a vague promise of a bottle the finished product. Brewsters are enough of a novelty themselves ( its like admitting you build houses or repair cars) in mixed company that one can take the reusable bottle right from under the nose of an unsuspecting drinker by just inquiring," I brew my own beer- may I have your bottle." In fact, this technique works so well it may backfire and the unsuspecting drinker will bug the hell out of you for the rest of the evening wanting to know how beer is brewed. I have also had it backfire with the manager who insists that ALL bottles have to be returned for the recycling deposit. For those types, we brewsters usually have to resort to zymurgical guerrilla tactics and take the poor guy by the hand, pull out a shiny unused ball lock fitting and whisper in his ear what it is for. I've had 12 six packs personally loaded in my truck with this very technique. I would not recommend it for brewers, however, since the manager might want to take you out to the parking lot to knock off your ball lock fitting instead of helping you load bottles into the trunk.

Another thing we like about the bottles is the gleam of the glass once it is clean. It satisfies the need for tidying up and beats the heck out of polishing the oak sideboard. There is something quietly profound about 48 gleaming bottles lined up in formation on the eh kitchen counter waiting to receive their ration of sanitizing solution. They don't talk back, you don't have to clean up any towels they have dropped and you eventually get to put a lid on all of them. Try that with the kids and you are up for child abuse and a spot on the Prime Time evening news with half a dozen microphones vying for your nose hairs.

Bottling is always such an arousing event in my house. Picture my devoted spouse rinsing and setting bottles down on a clean towel as fast as he can. I squat on the top step of an ancient step tool, insert the filler into the clean bottles, push and release just as the foam comes into view, fade, cut to the next scene with my spouse masterfully flexing his biceps as he clamps down with animalistic grunts. Too hot for you? Okay- cool off with the final scene of us both languidly stroking the sticky bottles with a damp towel to remove the residue from the overzealous filling job. If this whole vignette had caused you to overheat, then you definitely need another brewsky before you finish this column.

The final step in bottling is storage and this depends on whether the brewster is brewing ale or lager. If it is an ale, that unused bathtub in the upstairs bathroom is just fine- one more excuse for not having to put up with your brother-in-law and his wife for another month. This is also an ideal situation to use that red, shocking pink and orange tablecloth Aunt Jane brought you from Peru and that you have previously only brought out for dinners with her. Just drape that beauty over your batch of ale and let it glow in the dark. No light dare pass to injure your brew. Lagers can be stored in any cool dark place. Usually there is enough mold on the bottom shelf of my refrigerator to shield the exposure of the bottles to the door light. Furthermore, since it never drops below 45 degrees anyway, that's perfect.

Yes, we brewsters are different from you brewers on some fundamental practices. However, what we brew is still the same (well, I like to think slightly better) and we all still enjoy it just as much. It has been a pleasure sharing our womanly secrets with you guys. I have one teensy request- try not to get into arguments over whose tank is bigger when we're around. Remember fellows- it ain't the circumference, the height or the capacity that counts...