On Tap

A couple of years ago I bought a home brewing kit with visions of making my own IPA. When I first got it home, I eagerly opened the box, but was quickly discouraged by what I considered to be an overly complicated set of directions. I repacked the gallon jug, tubing, and plastic airlock, along with the pre-measured packets of grain and hops, and put the kit away for another day. 

When he came to help in the garden yesterday, Treat brought me some hops that he had foraged on his recent trip to Canada and Maine. Hops have many applications, ice cream, chicken marinade, lemonade, and pickles to mention a few, but of course they are most widely known as a flavoring for beer. What else could I do, but dig that kit out again?

In our family, whenever we get a new game, we get Treat to read the directions. He has a gift for quickly grasping the overall concept and then explaining it to us, fielding questions, and consulting the rules when necessary, so that we can get to the game and play. Yesterday, I handed Treat the beer box. "It's too complicated!" I complained. "You have to help me with the directions! Then we can use some of the hops in our very own beer."

"I'm happy to look at it," Treat replied agreeably. "How hard can it be?"

He read the back of the box out loud first. It didn't sound as complex as I remembered. Then he opened the box and admired the equipment, smoothing the printed directions out on the coffee table. "There are 3 steps," he said in his authoritative game master voice, "the mash, the sparge, and the wort."

"See?" I interrupted. "What even is sparge? A noun or a verb?"

"It looks like it can be either," he noted. 

We looked it up on our phones. To sparge means to sprinkle with hot water, especially in brewing.

"Once you sparge the mash, you have your wort," Treat continued.

"No!" I laughed. "Why don't you just take the kit home and teach me how to do it later?"

And bless his heart, that is what he did.