All-Grain Brewing, Part II: How to Lauter

In part I, I talked about mashing, which is the process of turning starches in malted grain into sugars for the eventual purpose of fermentation, to make that great nectar called beer. In that post, I went into detail about a single infusion mash. If you recall, that process ended with a mixture of water and grist that is about the consistency of oatmeal, sitting in a K-mart brand water cooler acting as a mash tun. The starches have all been converted and it is time for the next step.

Obviously, if one throws yeast into that oatmeal like mixture, the result will be an icky mess. Therefore, there needs to be a way to filter the sugary liquid from the grain. That sugary liquid, when extracted, is called sweet wort.

As it turns out, using barley has a great advantage. The hard husks of the barley can actually act as its own filter to let the liquid out and leave the spent grains behind. All one needs to do is trap the husks and let the sweet wort run out of the grain. This process is called lautering.

Taking a closer look at equipment, one mashes grain in a mash tun. However, with the addition of one piece of equipment, that mash tun can also act as a lauter tun. Well actually, there are two variations of that equipment: a false bottom, and a manifold. Both are very similar.

A false bottom sits in the bottom of the mash/lauter tun, one or two inches above the actual bottom. It has holes drilled in it that are barely small enough to trap the grain husks. Below the false bottom, a valve pokes out of the mash/lauter tun where one can control the flow of the liquid.


A manifold is very similar. It is a series of soldered together copper pipes that runs along the bottom of the mash/lauter tun. Along the entire length, slots are cut into it, again, just small enough not to let the grain husks through. The manifold, like the false bottom, is connected to a valve that comes out of the mash/lauter tun. Typically, a manifold is used when the mash tun is oddly shaped, like using a rectangular picnic cooler, but that does not have to be the case.


Looking at my setup, at the bottom of that K-mart water cooler that I use, I happen to use a manifold. The reason is not because it is better, or my cooler has an odd shape, but rather, it is because I had a bunch of copper tubing sitting around at the time I built the thing and did not have a lot of money. Since then, it was worked so well that I have never bothered to replace it.

These are the steps I take when lautering:

1. Vorlaufing: This is the process of recirculating. It sets the grain bed so that it can act like a filter and clears all the grain material out from under the false bottom or inside manifold.

To do this, I just barely open the valve and slowly drain the liquid out of the mash/lauter tun, though the manifold, valve, and tubing, into a pitcher. This is always done at a slow trickle. The amount that needs to be drained may vary; sometimes, it is a couple of pints or sometimes it goes up to 3/4 of a gallon. The goal is to run it until it runs clear, so I can see my fingers through the vinyl tube.


As I do this, the grain will flatten out into a bed, as it gets sucked down a bit, and there will be a layer of liquid on top of it. It can be hard to see at first because the liquid is cloudy.

If the liquid drains too fast, the grain will get sucked down and compacted into a solid mass and the flow will stop. The key is to just barely drain it fast enough.

Once the liquid in the tube runs clear, I move the trickling end of the tube from the pitcher to the boil kettle and let it continue to drain. The liquid I drained into the pitcher then carefully gets poured or siphoned back into the top of mash/lauter tun.


There are two things I watch out for when pouring the liquid back. First, I introduce as little oxygen as possible (which is why siphoning is better). Second, I try not to disturb the grain bed as this can create channels and lower my extract efficiency.

2. Sparging: Next come the sparge, where I actually rinse the sugars from the grain. There are several techniques people use: no sparge, batch sparge, and fly sparging. I happen to do fly sparging.

When fly sparging, I add boiling sparge liquor to my hot liquor tank, the plastic bucket sitting on the counter above my mash/lauter tun. This drains through a tube leading from the bottom of the hot liquor tank to the top of the mash/lauter tun. My goal is to slowly add liquor to the top of the mash/lauter tun at the same speed as the sweet wort is drained off the bottom. I use a Phil's sparge arm to sprinkle the liquor into the mash tun so as not to disturb the grain bed. Again, I do this a very slow speed. It is easy to compact the grain bed and end up with a stuck sparge.

There area few things I watch out for here as well. First, I don't let the liquid drop below the top of the grain bed. In fact, the whole time I sparge I'm involved in a constant balancing act of adjusting the flow into and out of the mash/lauter tun. Sometimes, I turn up the hot liquor tank and turn down the mash run-off. Then, after a while, I set it back the other way. These adjustments are an attempt to keep about 2 inches of liquid above the grain bed at all times.

The second thing I watch out for is temperature. The rule is to never let it get above 168 degrees F, reason being that harsh tannins can get extracted from the grain husks, making for an unpleasant astringency in the final product. However, it is best to keep the liquor at least the same temp as the mash or warmer, so that an inversion layer in the grain bed helps push the sugars out.

Since my hot liquor tank is not heated, even though I add boiling water to the tank, the temperature drops very quickly, usually hovering between 185 and 170. In fact, this is the Achilles heal of my system. I have a hard time controlling the temperature of the liquor going into the mash/lauter tun. I am happy to say, though, that by the time it flows through the sparge arm and into the mash/lauter tun, it has cooled off to well below 168 degrees F. In actuality, the issue I have is that often the sparge liquor is too cool. Fortunately, the worst thing that that can do is affect my extract efficiency.

3. Stopping The Sparge: Knowing when to stop the sparge can be tricky. If everything has been done right, it should last for about an hour. Anything shorter than that means that I'm likely not getting all the sugars I can out of the grain.

It would seem logical that the sparge should end when I've collected enough sweet wort to conduct the boil. However, that is not necessarily the case. As the sparge continues the pH will drop. If it drops below a certain point, tannins will be extracted from the grain husks, which, like mentioned above, can make the beer astringent, considered a major flaw.

Fortunately, pH and run-off specific gravity (SG) have a direct relationship, so I can use that as a guide. If the run-off SG drops to 1.010, I stop the sparge. If it never drops that low and I reach the amount I planned to collect, usually between 6.5 and 7 gallons, then I stop. I use these two criteria to indicate that I've collected enough.

The way that works is that starting around 4.5 or 5 gallons collected, I take samples of the run-off, cool it as quickly as I can in an ice bath, and check the SG. I keep doing that until I stop. If I stop before my 6.5 to 7 gallons are collected, I simply add water to make up the difference.


The way that I measure how much I've collected is that I have a plastic spoon with notches carved out of it that I use as a dipstick. It is calibrated to work with my enamel canning pot that I use as a boil kettle.


Once the sparge is complete, I pick the boil kettle off the floor and place it on the stove. It is then time to start the boil.

Next time, The Boil.

The Post Between Posts

I've just about finished my next post on all-grain brewing. I'm guessing that I will post it early next week (these long posts take a while to write). I do want to say, however, that I do not want to scare off beginning brewers. All-grain brewing can seem complex and daunting. I strongly suggest that if you are a beginning brewer, start with extract brewing. It is a lot easier and you can get decent results from it. After you are comfortable with that, you can try your hand at all-grain brewing.

If you've done some extract brewing, however, I hope that these posts will inspire you to try your hand at all-grain brewing. It changes your entire view of brewing beer. Also, it really is not as hard as it sounds. And finally, dammit, it is a lot of fun.

All-Grain Brewing, Part I: How to Mash

Since I talk about wine and travel on this website, some may wonder why I go by the moniker, The All-Grain Evangelist. By using the term "all-grain" I am not talking about drinking only beer, but rather, it refers to a particular style of making beer: all-grain brewing.

As an all-grain brewer, I never use malt extract. Instead, I make my beer from all malted grain, just like big-boys. That is not to say that there anything wrong with extract brewing. I used to do it that way. In fact, I think you can learn the valuable steps of the boil, cooling, fermentation, and bottling/kegging using extract brews. But, for me, that was only half the story. I wanted to learn about recipe formulation, mashing, and vorlaufing, sparging, and so on. As a result, the only brewing I do anymore is all-grain brewing.

The key to good all-grain brewing is the mash. There are many way to do it: infusion, decoction, step mashing, and so on. Today, about 90% of my mashes are single infusion mashes. This post, then, is intended to explain how I do just that. It is a guide to a very basic single infusion mash.

The idea of an infusion mash is to mix (infuse) warm water to the malted grain, to bring the mix to a certain temperature. This activates two enzymes: beta amylase and alpha amylase. Beta amylase is most active around 150 degrees F, and tends to turn starches into fermentable sugars like maltose. This makes for a dry beer. Alpha amylase, on the other hand, works at higher temperatures, say around 158 degrees F. It tends to turn starches into non-fermentable sugars like dextrins. This makes a sweeter beer. When single infusion mashing, you only add water once. Therefore, you generally aim for a temperature between the two, where both enzymes are active, to make a nice balance between dry and sweet, say 155 degrees F.

Some people have elaborate systems for doing this. However, I do my brewing in the kitchen. My setup is a three tier gravity fed system. The top is a 6.5 gallon bucket I use as a hot liquor tank. The middle is my mash/lauter tun, a gray, plastic water cooler that I bought at K-mart years ago. The bottom is my boil kettle, an enamel stock pot, all pictured here:


These are the steps I use to do a single infusion mash:

1. Mill the grain: My grain is milled with a JSP Malt Mill. Once milled, the grain is called grist. Shown here is a picture of me early in the morning, in my socks, milling about 10 lbs of grain for a 5 gallon batch of beer.


2. Calculate water to grain: I typically use 1.2 quarts of water per lb of grain. For example, if I have 10 lbs of grain, I use 12 quarts, or 3 gallons. Shown here is the paperwork that I usually do when I brew a batch of beer.


3. Adjust mash and sparge liquor: Tucson water is closest to the classic brewing area of London. As a result, other than running through a charcoal filter, if I'm brewing a porter, stout, or brown ale, I do not have to make any water adjustments. However, if I'm brewing a pale beer, I will add splash of lactic acid, to help with mash pH. At the far extreme, very light lagers might have to be done with mixing Tucson water with RO water, to reduce the hardness. Once adjusted, brewing water is often referred to as liquor.

4. Set liquor on the heat: I have three pots: a four gallon stock pot, a two gallon stock pot, and a 8 gallon enamel canning pot. The four gallon stock pot holds my mash liquor; I will heat that to 177 degrees F. The two gallon stock pot holds my adjustment liquor; I heat that to boiling. The enamel canning pot holds my sparge liquor; I bring that to a boil.


5. Mash In: Once my mash liquor reaches 177 degrees, and my adjustment liquor reaches a boil, I slowly mix my mash liquor and my grist in the mash tun. I do this by taking a scoop of water followed by a scoop of grain, and stirring. I repeat this until all my grist and mash liquor is mixed up in the mash tun. The temperature must be even throughout and there must be no dry spots. I then a take the initial temperature, called strike temperature. My goal is to have it so when the hot water and cooler grain gets totally mixed up, it settles in at around 155 degrees F. If I'm too high, I add a little cold water. If I'm too low, I add some of the boiling adjustment liquor.

6. Wait, Stir, Take Temperature: Once at temperature, I put the lid on, and wait 10 to 15 minutes. Then, I open it up, stir from the bottom until mixed up again. After that, I take the temperature. It usually drops maybe a degree or two. If it drops below 150, I stir in some more boiling adjustment liquor, and take the temp again, until it is back up. I repeat this entire process every 10 to 15 minutes, for about an hour.


7. Iodine test: At the end of the hour, I take a few drops of the liquid part of the mash, put it on a white porcelain dish, and add a drop of iodine. I roll the two around on the plate looking for purple or black streaks. That means that starch is still present, and the mash should continue. If it remains iodine colored (brownish), then the mash is done. THIS SAMPLE MUST BE DISPOSED OF PROPERLY, BECAUSE IODINE IS POISONOUS.

Once it passes the iodine test, it is time to start the lauter.

Next Time, Lautering

Brew Your Own Magazine

Years ago, I used to subscribe to Brew Your Own Magazine. I stopped reading it originally because it seemed like a beginner's magazine. As I got into more complicated brewing techniques, like all-grain brewing, decoction mashing, and the like, I found the magazine less and less useful to me.

For some reason, this month, they sent me a copy of their October issue, perhaps to lure me back. Of course, right on the cover they state, "10 keys to extract glory." I am simply not an extract brewer anymore. However, thumbing through the magazine, it made me long for the old days, when I was learning how to brew.

There were some things that surprised me as well. They talked about roasting malts. Also, they had a section showing a gentleman's all-grain setup. In addition, they talked extensively about Brettanomyces. Those are hardly beginner's subjects. Was that enough to lure me back? I'm not sure. I did, however, enjoy the issue, and may consider it someday.

Crescent City Brewhouse

I have to admit that despite the fact that the whole New Orleans thing is a terrible tragedy, I'm getting burned out on the non-stop barrage on the news about it. With that said, though, I'm going to mention it on my blog. However, I'm not going to talk about FEMA. I'm not going to talk about politics. I'm not going to talk about flooding, levees, hurricanes, evacuees, or any of that stuff.

What I am going to talk about is a nice microbrewery in the French Quarter. When Julie and I were there in May, we were walking along Decatur street, wandering back to our hotel. That is when we happened upon Crescent City Brewhouse.

"Let's stop in for a drink," I said.

"Okay," Julie responded back.

That was all it took. We were there for a couple of hours, drinking, and talking to the staff.

The one thing that I recall is that they had a large selection of lagers on the menu, like a Vienna, Pilsner, and some sort of Black Forest brew. The staff told us that the brew master is German, so most of the beers have a German theme.

We really enjoyed it there, and I hope that as the town gets back on its feet, people check it out.

Trip To Venice, Part III: Meeting Roberto

If you recall, during part I of this story, Julie and I made plans to drop in on Roberto unannounced, and drop off a picture that Mac and Kristin took on their last trip to Venice. During part II of the story, we arrived in Venice with our friends Jill and Andy, and spent an incredible New Years together.

This was the big day. We were going to visit Roberto. Jill, Andy, Julie, and I planned to meet for breakfast to finalize our plans.

We all met in the dining room downstairs that morning. Breakfast was always an interesting thing during our trip. The foods seemed familiar, but were always a little different. For instance, they had hard boiled eggs on the breakfast buffet, but the color of the yoke was more orange and dark. It had a much richer taste as well. These kind of differences were true of many food.

Following our plan, after breakfast, we went to the vaporetto stop near the hotel. The modern tin shacks sheltering the people waiting for the vaporetto seemed out of place in the ancient city.

Eventually, a beige boat arrived. Men quickly tied ropes to the side, threw the boat into reverse and the boat tightly hugged the vaporetto stop. They opened up the chain barrier, and people climbed on board.

We got off at Accademia, near one of three bridges that cross the Grand Canal. It was not long before we located the building where Roberto worked.

As we approached the building, I asked, "Do you think Roberto still works here?"

Andy responded with a question, "Do think he is working today?"

None of us knew.

As we got closer to the door, we could see where the cafe tables would be set up if it were summertime. Since it was winter, the bar was apparently indoor only.

Wandering in, the warmer air greeted us from the chill outside. Jill, Andy and myself kind of stood around looking at each other as Julie went up to the bar and asked for Roberto. The bartender said he would go get him.

"I guess he still works here," Julie said.

We waited.

As we waited, our thoughts continued to ourselves: Would he be freaked out by the fact that all these Americans from Tucson, Arizona, keep visiting him? Julie had the picture in her pocket.

It was such an odd thing when we finally met the guy. He was a man, perhaps in his late 40s, thinning on top, average height, and wore glasses. His English was good, but definitely spoken with an Italian accent.

There we were, having traveled 6000 miles, from freaking Tucson, Arizona, simply to deliver a picture. When Julie finally handed him the picture, he got so excited that he got us all glasses of wine. We toasted. Andy handed his digital camera to someone in the bar. Snap. Our quest was at an end.

Below is a picture of all of us, from left to right, Roberto, Julie, myself, Jill, and Andy. I have no idea who they guy taking the picture in the foreground it. Roberto, Julie, and I all have wine glasses in our hand.



Upon returning, Mac and Kristin were happy to hear the story, and all the stories from our trip, in fact. They have since been back to Venice and visited Roberto again, to hear the story from the other side.

All in all, it was great time, and I would do it all again.

Trip To Venice, Part II: The Arrival

If you recall, during part I of this story, Julie and I talked to our friends Mac and Kristin about a friend that they have in Venice named Roberto. We had made plans to drop in on Roberto unannounced, and drop off a picture of the three of them that Mac and Kristin took on their last trip to Venice.

Fast forward -- Julie and I traveled to Italy, with our good friends Jill and Andy. Venice was in fact the third city we visited, the first two being Rome and Florence. When we finally got there, we were simply not prepared for how beautiful it was.

Venice is a city completely surrounded by water. The "roads" in Venice are actually nothing but sidewalks and bridges, crossable by only foot traffic, and canals, crossable only by boat. In fact, there are no vehicles in Venice except for boats.

We arrived by train, and took a vaporetto, which is basically water bus, to the hotel. During the vaporetto ride, Venice reliance on boats became clear. There were water taxis, gondolas, and vaporettos everywhere. In addition, we noticed that all commerce was done by boat. I recall seeing produce boats and beer boats delivering to all the cafes and restaurants and garbage boats removing the trash.

Walking up to the hotel, we noticed that the sidewalks and bridges all were wet, as it had been raining the days before we arrived. Upon arrival, however, the sun was starting to peek out occasionally behind the bags of dark clouds that still hung around. It was winter, so it was chilly, even during the day.



We checked into the hotel, and went up to our rooms. Later, we went the Guggenheim modern art museum.

That night, being New Years Eve, Jill, Andy, Julie, and I spent the evening sitting on a balcony overlooking Rialto Bridge, drinking cappuccinos. On the street below, people walked around with masks on, a tradition in Venice on New Years. Someone near Rialto bridge shot fireworks in the air. We joked and laughed. It had been a remarkable day.

The next day we were going to visit Roberto. In fact, we were going to go to the bar he worked at, unannounced, to deliver the picture. We knew that tomorrow was going to be an interesting day as well.

Next Time, Part III, Meeting Roberto

Trip To Venice, Part I: The Plan

It seems like when I get really deep with the beer posts, I have to pull it back a bit with a post about wine or traveling. This particular post happens to be mostly about travel. When I was writing this post, it started to get quite long. As a result, I've split it into three parts.

For New Years 2004, Julie and I traveled to Italy. I've talked about it before in my Palak Paneer In Paris and Travel Intrusions posts. This story is about a piece of that trip, where we traveled to Venice.

Months before we traveled to Italy, we talked about the trip that we were planning with some friends, Mac and Kristin, who are Italy regulars. Through that, we decided to get together before our trip, so that they could show us pictures of a recent trip that they took. That way we would know what to expect.

One thing that we noticed during the picture session was that they seem to have spent an exorbitant about of time at one particular bar in Venice. That is when they told us about their friend Roberto.

Roberto is a bartender at this particular bar that they happened upon one day. They enjoyed Roberto's company so much that they spent much of their time in Venice in that bar, drinking wine and talking about Venetian issues of the day. They would spend all day there, and into the night. Each day, they would return.

The next trip to Venice they took, they returned to the bar. Roberto, like a fixture, was still there. He remembered them, of course, and since then, every trip to Venice they take, they always spend time with Roberto.

Jokingly, as Mac and Kristin told us the story, Julie said, "We should go there and bring one of the pictures of the three of you back to him. We should then get a picture of us delivering the picture."

We all looked around at each other. Maybe, we should really do it? That is when the plan was hatched.

Next Time, Part II: The Arrival

Update: I got an email from Mac. I guess Robert's name is actually Roberto. As a result, I've updated this post. Sorry for the mix up.