By Amy Tindell

I admit that it was with not a small amount of trepidation that I suggested a 45 minute drive north to Stone Brewery for dinner after a long day of contentious deposition taking. I experienced slightly more trepidation in pointing out further that if we somehow negotiated CA traffic for a 6pm arrival, we could even participate in the last brewery tour of the day. Luckily, my boss – a seasoned, highly-respected senior patent litigation partner at my firm, and longtime wine connoisseur – found my description of the Stone Brewery World Bistro and Gardens sufficiently intriguing to attempt the trip.

Once safely underway in the car, I explained to him that this was not just some random trip to a no-name brewery, but what some beer enthusiasts would consider a pilgrimage, to one of the largest, most famous, and most successful craft breweries. Stone, launched in 1996, is the brainchild of Greg Koch and Steve Wagner, who met at a UC Davis Extension course about beer. Together, the two have cultivated their “slow food” philosophy and aversion to “fizzy yellow beer” to create an empire encompassing the brewery, 2 World Bistro restaurants complete with patios and gardens, and the farm that supplies raw materials to the entire operation. Along with the architecture of its brewery and the organic gardens surrounding it, Stone is best known for its high hop-and alcohol-content beers, particularly its Arrogant Bastard Ale, which has an advertising campaign that revolves around the slogan “You’re Not Worthy”. (Click through to the link; it’s worthy.)

My boss and I miraculously arrived in time for the 6pm tour (not to mention a pint of Pliny the Elder on draft), but were forced to apply our exemplary advocacy skills to convince the staff to allow us to partake, since said tour was already full. I’ve learned that very few people, least of all California beer brewers, desire to listen to the pleas of impassioned Boston patent litigators.

The tour guide shuttled her thirsty bunch through the double doors to a large room filled with glistening brewing equipment, and proceeded to explain, quite accurately, the process of brewing beer, and Stone’s particular philosophy on the art. I watched with pride as my boss, the wine aficionado, enthusiastically raised his hand when the guide asked first-time brewery visitors to identify themselves, and proceeded to ask insightful questions along the tour.

Following the tour, we tasted the sample selections for the day, including the IPA, the Levitation amber ale, the special release Old Guardian and, of course, the Arrogant Bastard Ale. While Arrogant Bastard, with its smooth caramel, malty, dark fruit character, holds its place as a favorite, I was impressed with the Old Guardian. This was my first taste of the barleywine, and it was not too sweet and pleasingly dry, with a dried fruit spiciness to the taste. But, just as in patent litigation, we had to conquer quickly and move on to the next challenge, because our dinner reservation was closing in on us.

The hostess seated us on the patio, a delightful setting to two Bostonians growing weary of an especially harsh winter. By now darkness had fallen and the patio was lit with stringed lights and scattered fire pits. The gardens surrounded the patio tables, complete with miniature waterfalls and rocky ponds, and an army of frogs piped up in full song to greet us. I explored Stone’s menu, wondering where else I could find tikka marsala, a chicken and wild boar sandwich, homemade kimchi, brisket, schnitzel, and yakisoba on the same menu, particularly with ingredients sourced from a local organic farm and accompanied by suggested beer pairings. Feeling quite at home, we exchanged notes on beer and wine culture, and of course, plotted our strategy to win our case. Accustomed to the scurvy-inducing New England cold, we found that the fresh ingredients made a delectable difference in our meals, and enjoyed one last beer as we finished our feasts.

Fully satiated, I took a quick tour of the gardens even though it was dark. Stringed lights illuminated paths to inviting groups of wooden chairs, and the sounds of burgling water and frogs continued to fill the night. I briefly imagined moving to San Diego and regularly spending calm, reflective nights drinking beer in the gardens at Stone.

But then my phone buzzed, announcing the arrival of the rough draft of the day’s deposition transcript in my inbox, which I dutifully forwarded to my boss, who was inspecting a miniature bamboo forest near the patio. Alas, it was time to leave Stone Brewery to return to my professional duties. However, I will admit that it was gratifying (and humbling) to be able to share my alleged expertise with my boss, given all that he’s taught me. It only reinforces the hypothesis that beer plays a crucial – and worthy – role in supporting civilization, modern and historical. Fortunately, it doesn’t show any signs of abdicating that role, particularly when civilization continues to associate beer with this:

By Amy Tindell

It shouldn’t have, but it took a drawn out and excessively complicated Doodle poll for the Venture Café bartenders to schedule a session at Hopsters Brew and Boards. No longer content just to serve beer, we met in Newton on a snowy Tuesday night in February to brew our own.
But first things first: our day jobs had really taken their toll, so we indulged in some much-needed craft malt beverages and locally sourced sustenance before taking on more hard work. Hopsters boasts a series of taps dedicated to New England beers (alas, licensing restrictions prohibit them from serving beer brewed on the premises), in addition to a menu featuring cheese, charcuterie, flatbreads, and sandwiches, all incorporating local ingredients from New England Charcuterie in Waltham and Wood Family Farm in Dudley.

Bellies and brains happy, we headed over to the kettles and supply room, stocked with local organic raw materials, to begin the task of brewing. Hopsters provides each brewing team with a staff expert to direct activities and answer questions along the way. Our expert, Hugh, prepared two kettles for our chosen recipes: one for a Rye IPA and another for a Wee Heavy Scottish Ale.

First, we weighed the specialty grains, dutifully measuring 4 ounces of smoked malt, 2 pounds of crystal/caramel malt, and 4 ounces of roasted barley for the Wee Heavy, and one pound of caramel/crystal malt for the Rye IPA. The women of the group stepped up to apply some elbow grease to mill the grain bill for each recipe, increasing the surface area of the grain to make the starch more accessible and to separate the seed from the husk.

Once milled, the two separate grain bills were poured into muslin bags and placed into the boiling kettles – much like tea – to create the mash.

While the mash boiled for 15 minutes at around 155 degrees Fahrenheit, we measured the liquid malts in the supply room. The Wee Heavy required a whopping 15 pounds of amber malt, which poured lazily, resembling very thick molasses, from large plastic carboys in the supply room. The Rye IPA took a mere 10 pounds of pale malt extract and 5 pounds of rye malt. A brewer can buy liquid malts readily at any supply store, but more ambitious brewers make their own malts through a somewhat painstaking – but they say rewarding – process.

After removing the muslin bags with the grain bills, it took two of us for each kettle to add the liquid malts: one to pour and scrape the malt from its container, and another to stir the mash to ensure that the malt dissolved properly. Hugh advised us to go “not too fast, and not too slow” when incorporating the liquid malts.

While we waited for our kettles to boil again, we measured hops for each recipe. Hops can be bittering – providing the bitter flavor of the beer – or aromatic or finishing – providing that signature citrus, flower or pine aroma of the beer. Brewers typically add bittering hops midway through the boil, and aromatic hops toward the end of the boil. The Venture Café team measured only 2 ounces of Golding bittering hops for the Wee Heavy, but the more hop-heavy Rye IPA required 1.5 ounces of Centennial and 2 ounces of Simcoe bittering hops, along with 2 ounces of Amarillo Gold aromatic hops.

After approximately 30 minutes of boiling the mash, the liquid malts, and the bittering hops (45 minutes total boiling), we added the Amarillo Gold aromatic hops to the Rye IPA, and 1.5 tablespoons of Irish moss to each kettle. Irish moss is a fining agent derived from seaweed that acts as a clarifying agent (i.e., it helps brewers avoid producing cloudy beer). Specifically, it assembles small molecules into larger particles that settle out of solution. In beer, Irish moss helps yeast flocculate (clump together) more effectively and encourages proteins and lipids to settle out with the yeast.

As the boil continued, we activated the Wyeast yeast packages by slapping them, hard. This releases an inner package of nutrients and wort that “wakes up” the dormant yeast in the outer foil package, jump starting the culture’s metabolism and reducing lag time in fermenting the waiting wort. When it’s ready to pitch, the package becomes swollen with by-products – carbon dioxide – of these initial metabolic processes.

After 15 minutes of continuing the boil with the Irish moss and aromatic hops (approximately 1 hour total), it was time to transfer the wort into its storage container for the fermentation process. Hugh drained the wort from the kettle through specialized piping and a heat exchanger to cool it to a temperature favorable (and not deadly) to the yeast. We pitched Scottish yeast into the container for the Wee Heavy and American Ale yeast into the Rye IPA container.

While our hard work was complete, the yeast had just begun their task of feasting happily on the abundant sugars in the wort. This fermentation process produces the alcohol in beer as well as many of the flavors and aromas, which are byproducts of fermentation. Additionally, Hopsters would continue our work, sending our spent grains from the brewing process to Wood Family farm to feed their pigs. As for us, we relaxed into one final local beer to rehash our brewing experience, before stepping outside into the new-fallen snow for our journey home.