A Harsh Bitterness In Beer

I've never really liked American IPA's. I've always thought that they were very harsh. That citrusy bitterness always seemed unpleasant to me. However, I love Bohemian pilsners, which are also quite bitter, but not as harsh. One has to ask the question: why?

I've known about the sulfate ion in brewing water and its role in bitterness for quite a while. It is said to accentuate bitterness in beer. In fact, according to John Palmer's How To Brew, normal bitter beers have sulfate ranges around 50-150 ppm, while very bitter beer's sulfate is around 150-350 ppm, and sulfate above 400 ppm in brewing water can make bitterness quite sharp and astringent. I've always thought that that is why Bohemian pilsners seemed much smoother to me, because Pilsen's water's sulfate is around 5.8 ppm, the lowest, by far, of any of the notable brewing cities.

As it turns out, there is more to it than that. All brewers know that alpha acids are the bittering compounds in hops. Well, I learned just recently that not all alpha acids are created equal. According to the March/April 2008 issue of Brew Your Own (BYO) magazine, the alpha acid, cohumulone, is responsible for a harsher bitterness, though some also call it more characterful.

It is not uncommon to rate hops not only by their percent alpha acid, but also by what percentage of that is cohumulone. For instance, the popular American hop, Cascade, used in IPAs, is rated around 4.5-7% alpha acid, with 33-40% being cohumulone, while the Czech hop, Saaz, used in Bohemian pilsners, is rated at 3-5% apha acid, with only 24-28% being cohumulone. To me, Cascade has a harsher bitterness than Saaz.

BYO Magazine says the following in the above mentioned issue, in the article entitled "Meet the New Hops," by Chris Colby:

If, you're looking to brew a graceful, elegant lager, with refined hop taste, look for a hop with a low cohumulone percentage (under 30%).

So, there you have it. Not all bitterness is created equal. Sulfate and cohumulone can make a difference.

A Beginner's Attempt at Decoction Mashing

Back in 2003, five years ago or so now, I tried my first and only decoction mash (to this date, at least). A decoction mash is where part of the mash is pulled off and boiled, returning it to the main mash, raising the temperature to various steps, to affect protein breakdown, and starch conversion. There are three kinds: single decoction, double decoction, and triple decoction, each named for the number of times the mash is pulled off and boiled. I only attempted a single decoction.

The plan kind of worked like this: I was armed with a Zymurgy article from 1995, called "Decoction for Beginners." Mine was a single decoction with rests at 140°F, smack dab between the protease and beta amylase enzymes, and 160°F, in high alpha amylase territory. Following the plan outlined in the article, I planned to mash-in with 1.33 quarts of water per pound, starting with 11 lbs of grain. Starting with a little over 3.5 gallons of liquid plus maybe a gallon for grain, I planned to pull about a gallon and a half of the thickest part of the mash, or about 1/3 of the mash. I had a stainless steel stockpot ready, and a strainer, to scoop out the thick part of the mash.

The reality of the situation didn't really work as planned. I mashed in like normal, but undershot my temperature by two degrees, mashing in at 138°F. No big deal, I could handle a two degree difference. When I pulled the decoction, however, it made a huge mess, dripping hot sticky liquid everywhere, out of the strainer, all over the floor and stove. The thick mash rolled out of my strainer with a dull thud into my pot. Okay, I had undershot and made a huge mess, no big deal.

When I turned on the heat, the decoction began to heat up. Knowing the the biggest risk in boiling a decoction is scorching the decocted grain, I began to stir, and stir, and stir. It kept getting hotter, and hotter, and hotter, but it never came to a boil. Oh, it bubbled here and there, enough to spit out large drops of hot lava all over my hands, but it never came to a solid boil. After a while, the liquid seemed non-existent, so I added a little water. Still nothing. Frustrated, I finally gave up after 75 minutes, and reincorporated it into the main mash.

I stirred up the mash and took the temperature. Instead of jumping up to the 160°F that I had planned, it only jumped up to 150°F, missing the mark by 10 degrees, deep in the heart of beta amylase, rather than alpha amylase. Crap! How was that possible? I had followed the instructions to the tee. If I had missed it by a few degrees, okay, I could accept that, but 10 degrees? As a result, I added boiling water, and added boiling water, and added more boiling water, until finally, I reached 157°F, missing my mark by three degrees. Why did I stop at 157°F? Well, I had run out of room in the mash tun. That was as far as I could go. It was the most watery mash I'd ever seen.

To add insult to injury, the decoction made the mash really gummy. I ended up with a nasty stuck sparge. Again, crap! It took forever to get the wort out of the grain.

Between the decoction that never boiled and the stuck sparge, I had spent almost 3.5 hours laboring over the thing, and I had no idea if it would turn out. I was spent at the end of it.

A couple of days later, I posted my plight to the Homebrew Digest, starting off the post saying, "I tried my first decoction mash and it did not go very well." The first response I got back said, "I bet those words have been said many times." Decoction is hard.

Would I ever do a decoction mash again? I don't know. I'm glad I did it. I think that it is something every all-grain brewer should experience. There are some who say that you can simulate the maltiness you get from a decocted beer by adding a little melanoidian malt. I think I will stick to that for now.

Quick Tip: What do you do when your beer freezes?

Let's say you've got a beer in your home built kegerator, and you keep dropping the temperature to the point that it accidentally freezes. Will it be ruined? The answer is no. You will, however, have to force carbonate again, as the CO2 will go out of solution when it freezes.

Let's say that you are lagering a beer and it accidentally freezes. Will it be ruined? The answer is no. However, you will have to add yeast again since the yeast dies when frozen.

According to John Palmer's How to Brew, the yeast should be the same strain that you started with, and you do not have to make a yeast starter if it comes from a White Labs vile, or ready-to-pitch Smack Pack. You also do not need to acclimatize the yeast to lagering temperature, as it will do this by itself in a couple of days.

Do be careful if your beer freezes in glass, such as a carboy. Water expands when frozen, and beer is mostly made of water. Check to see if the glass is cracked before you thaw it, or you will have quite a mess on your hands.

You Always Have to Start Somewhere

When I first started into homebrewing, like 20 years ago, we used to make mead. This was in a time before brew shops, the internet, and anything else that would give you information or guidance. In fact, I remember that the only place that you could get brewing supplies in Tucson was at a local hobby shop, right next to the model airplanes.

We used to use plastic two-liter bottles, because we simply did not know any better. What we did is clean and sanitize with chlorine bleach, and never rinsed it out very well. In fact, if it had a chlorine smell, that meant it was clean.

We boiled the crap out of our honey and water, adding a little lemon juice. Then, we poured the hot liquid into our two-liter bottles with a funnel, which would warp the bottle a bit, and let it cool to room temperature overnight. We then pitched a sprinkle of bread yeast into each one. After that, we capped them up.

After a day or two, they would start to bubble, and the two-liter bottles would swell and harden. It was then the job of whoever got home first to let off the pressure, so they would not explode. You had to be careful letting off the pressure, or the bottle would bubble over, out of the loosened cap, like a soda that had been shaken too hard.

After they were done fermenting, we placed the contents into Grolsch bottles. The yeast would settle out and make a thick layer in the bottle. The results would always taste very yeasty, sweet, and had a medicine flavor, but we made everyone who came over try it, because it was "the best thing on the planet."

We all have to start somewhere, I guess. :)

Footnote:
For those who are not homebrewers, this post is wrong on so many levels. First, you don't clean and sanitize with chlorine bleach, and if you do, you rinse very well, or risk getting chlorophenols in you finished product, making it taste mediciny or band-aidy. Second, you do not boil the crap out of mead, because it will boil off the subtle honey flavors. Third, you don't use plastic two-liter bottles because they are permeable to oxygen, and your finished product will oxidize. Fourth, do not pour hot liquid, because you will get hot side aeration, which will oxidize your beverage. Fifth, you do not cool overnight, because you risk infection. The temperature stays in a temperature zone too long where bacteria and wild yeast will flourish. Sixth, you do not use bread yeast because it was not made to make alcoholic beverages. There are plenty of better yeasts out there. Seventh, you do not sprinkle yeast into the bottle, but rather, you rehydrate dry yeast before using it. Eighth, you do not let the pressure build up in your fermentation vessel, because it may explode. You use an airlock instead. Finally, you let it clear before you rack it into bottles. Having a layer of yeast risks autolysis, which, at best, will cause yeasty flavors, or at its worst, can taste like burnt rubber.

Mash Panic

Here is a little story that happened when I first started to all-grain brew.

It was brew day -- my third all-grain batch, in fact. The first two had gone pretty well. As a result, I was pretty cocky going into the the third. I had this all-grain thing down pat.

I had a brand new thermometer for this batch of beer. This was a new Pyrex digital thermometer. In previous batches, I had used an old bimetal, deep-fry thermometer, with a long probe, and a dial that had marks for every ten degrees, going from 50°F to 750°F. The lack of granularity made it hard to get exact temperatures. My new thermometer was to solve all that.

I had carefully calibrated the new thermometer with boiling and freezing water. It was off by 3°F, exactly -- three degrees too low, in fact. I knew this going in. This time, my temperatures were going to be exact.

One of the problems that I had always had in previous batches was getting my strike temperature right. My mash-in temperature always came out too low. This time, I decided to heat my mash water a full 180°F. So, using my new thermometer, I heated my mash water to 183°F. Adjusting for the thermometer, that was 180°F. Right? I mixed the water with my grain, as I had done in previous batches, and -- presto -- according to my new thermometer, it was 158°F. Adjusting that by 3°F, it was 155°F. Perfect. Right?

I put the lid on my mash tun and waited for fifteen minutes. I then decided that it was time to check on my perfect mash.

Hmmmm. It's only dropped by one degree. This is going great.

It was then, like a ray of light, that I realized that I had adjusted the temperature in the wrong direction! I had subtracted rather than added the 3°F. Compounded by the fact that my thermometer was off by 3°F already, my mash was now 6°F too high.

ARGH!

I quickly added some cold water and checked it.

Still too high. Panic. More water. Mash now all watery. Mash tun too full. Out of room. Must remove some mash to add more cold water. GRRRRRRRR. Panic. Add more cold water.

Finally, I stuck my brand new thermometer into the mash. It read 152°F.

Thank God. No wait, 156°F. No wait, 160°F.

I kept moving the thermometer to different places in the mash.

Now, 172°F. This sucks. Panic. Is it too late? Have my enzymes all been killed off? Why does the mash vary so much from place to place?

My wife yelled out from the other room, "WHAT IS GOING ON?! You keep swearing like a truck driver."

The temperature was now 186°F.

Wait a second, that's higher than my mash water was going in. There is something wrong here.

I pulled the thermometer out and plunged it into some boiling water. It read 236°F. The culprit was unveiled.

Bad thermometer. Bad!

According to the iodine test, all the starches had converted into something -- into what, I didn't know.

That is my story. Whatever my mash temperature was, it did not adversely affect the batch too bad. The batch turned out okay after all.

What I learned later was that digital thermometers with a braided metal cord going to a small temperature probe are susceptible to moisture. It is not uncommon to get liquid into the metal probe and have the temperature spike, giving false readings. It is one of those things you learn as a homebrewer, and sometimes the hard way.

Quick Tip: Milk as a Label Adhesive

Are you looking for a way to attach labels to your beer bottles? Look no further than your refrigerator. Milk makes an excellent adhesive. Simply dip your labels in milk, stick them to your bottles, and let them dry. They ain't coming off -- well, at least until you soak them in water. Then, they come off quite easily. The bottles are then ready to be reused again.

Who knew?