Closet sustains minor damage!
Flying trub causes no injuries
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| Figure 1.1: Yeast |
A routine quality control check at a local closet brewery uncovered alarming
evidence that the brewery’s newest creation, an American pale ale, was on the
verge of a major explosion. The discovery sent managers and brewery
workers alike scrambling for cover as a brownish mixture of partially-fermented
beer, yeast, and trub seeped out menacingly while the airlock continued to bubble with a barely-restrained fury. A senior brewery official
who spoke with us on the condition of anonymity told us that a vigorous fermentation–not
unheard of for APA-style beers–created a massive buildup of carbon dioxide
inside the 6.5 gallon plastic fermenter (see Figure 1.1). This pressure eventually
forced krausen through
the airlock, a development that, if allowed to continue, would have eventually
clogged the airlock and then blown it sky high with the force of ten Pinatubos.
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Dangerous and unpredictable, a Three Mile Island–but not yet a Chernobyl–in
the brew closet. Note the dried trub on the beautiful dark purple closet wall. Click image for larger view.
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With nothing to lose but his life, an intrepid brewery peon quickly hatched
a plan of action while his bosses cowered in fear nearby. Covering the bucket
with a garbage bag, he quickly moved it to a nearby art gallery, where nothing
of value would be damaged should the explosion occur. Quickly, he grabbed his
wallet, a car key, and a normal black jacket and proceeded to rig up a trip
to the local Home Depot where it was rumored plastic tubing could be purchased
by the foot.
Tubing galore! After several minutes of deliberation, our handsome hero grabbed
a coil of hollowed out plastic of appropriate size and dashed for the exit. Halfway to the register,
a man dressed only in plaid took it upon himself to block the escape, delaying
attention to the beer by several seconds. Though that
man will remain unnamed, it goes without saying that he jeopardized the
safety of dozens of men with his aisle blocking antics.
Upon returning, the brewery brainiac quickly constructed a makeshift blowoff
tube. Somewhere, Richard Dean Anderson shed a tear. The beer had been saved
for now — the CO2 could escape through the blowoff tube and into
a gallon of sanitized water.
Despite the initial success in preventing a Chernobyl-type explosion, the brewery
remains at level amber–or heightened–state of alert tonight. Once the initial
burst of vigorous fermentation dies down, the brewery must act fast to switch
out the blowoff hose with the normal airlock to prevent the intake of deadly
AIR (la biere est pres de moi? haha!) which could do irreperable harm to the
yeast. Brewmasters are on hand with hydrometers, flashlights, and tasting spoons
to monitor the beer’s condition through the night.
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The entire contraption. Please no colostomy jokse.
Click for a larger image.
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Close up view of the blowoff tube affixed to plastic
airlock. The brownish liquid is part partially fermented beer, part rum
(which is what I filled the airlock with originally). The whole mess smelled
like some wonderful alcoholic bread. Click for a larger image.
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