Born Again Yesterday
It’s the Holy Grail pursuit of brewing in hoppy beer making: year-round wet-hop flavor. Hops are good, fresh hops are better, wet hops are the best. We say ‘wet hops’ because they have not been dried after harvest. We say ‘better’ because they possess the fullest expression of hop flavor; vine-fresh. But as with another herbaceous favorite of ours, they must be quickly dried to prevent mold and spoilage. That drying process is done delicately but something is always lost in translation. Other good brewers have taken up the quest. The results have varied. Ours is a homegrown process of time dilation for the delicate hop cone that the flower doesn’t even perceive and so delivers its still newborn self to our kettle months and months after its birth. Questing has no end and we are still tweaking our process but we hope you find this mid-summer anachronism to be as satisfying as we do. If you dig it, enjoy it. We’ll make more! MORE ABOUT THE FREAKIN' WET HOPS: To figure out this brand new wet hop preservation process, we had to forget everything that we already knew about how hops are processed and preserved. We tried 5 or 6 different things to try and achieve this process (some of which failed miserably), then we discovered a relatively simple process that deliberately did all the things that the textbooks told us not to do. This new proprietary process involves a lot of time and money, and even more thinking about hops and freshness in new ways. From all of this, we found a brand-spankin’-new way to preserve the hops, fresh from the Yakima Valley trellises, first born during harvest season into the Born Yesterday last fall, and reborn into this scary new next step, the Born Again Yesterday Pale Ale, six months later, to the beer in your hands today.
May – August 2018
The fall of 2011 brought with it the sad realization that we could not make the annual plan to wrangle with our most difficult brew, the Brown Shugga' Ale. E.K. Ross would have enjoyed our suffering as we moved through her stages toward acceptance final, but in that time of our deepest despair, as is common to artists everywhere; broke, hungover, abandoned by the muse and prepared to take a job at Arby's, we found in that darkness the spark of inspiration that would yield up the nearly sanctified recipe for the tragically named beer that we call the Lagunitas Sucks Ale. This is that beer. In the tale of the farmer with a lost ox, the last stages of are all that matter and in those desparate final moments, salvation is found. Having named the beer in that moment of darkness we are now bound to it and it to us as an act of supplication and this name we now wear with a heart full of gratitude, humble and penitent before the recipe's creator; the muse of brewers everywhere.Beer Me
"Clean this mess up or else we'll all end up in jail...those test tubes and the scale...just get 'em all outta here..." He was referring to the complex super-critical-CO2 hop extraction equipment set up on the table in the lab across from the brewhouse. Hop extracts are for the BIG brewers, he thought - suitable only for crummy sub-standard and barely-passable industrial lagers, not the subtle and elegant craft beer made here. But wrong he was. The New Brewer does not eschew any possible inputs. In this case the mountain of extracts will replace the mountain of hop vegetative material in the kettle thus creating cleaner hop flavors and preventing the otherwise spinach-like mess of a kettle full of super-hopped wort from clogging up a pump or worse. The sensuous honey-like amber ooze was administered intravenously to the wort kettle and the sacrament was complete. Another kettle of Hop Stoopid is once again raised up and fermented on high.Beer Me