American woman brew master
It is the beverage the Bavarians dub "the perfect food." It is the thirst quencher many Americans associate with hot days or baseball games. The Queen’s subjects drink it by the pint or by the "yard," it has replaced sake as the favorite potable of Japanese yuppies and Australians package it in overblown oilcans. Beer — the effervescent concoction, a result of boiling up a bunch of grains and hops — enjoys a huge international following. According to the website World Beer News (found at www.breworld.com), the world consumed 120 billion liters of beer in 1995. The cyber publication also projects a steady growth in the industry, one that will lead to barley-thirsty globe inhabitants quaffing 180 billion liters by 2010. It is no surprise that Germany and Ireland are among the leaders of the brew-worshipping pack, with a less expected Czech Republic copping first place since the mid-1990s. While most beer lovers simply savor the flavor, some choose to man the vats and make the golden suds. One such enthusiast is Boston microbrewery head Darrah Bryans. One of only two American women "master brewers" — the highest title in the field — Bryans, 35, came upon her calling after taking part in an exchange program with Ahrensburg near Hamburg, studying in International Policy with a focus on West Germany at California’s Monterey Institute and spending her junior year abroad in Tübingen. Having mastered the German language, the New England native moved on to beer. "In the late eighties my husband received a home-brewing kit for Christmas and I took an instant liking to the process," explains the Cambridge-based Brew Moon restaurant employee. "A few years later, I heard an interview with the owner of Capital City Brewing in Washington, D.C. He spoke of a school outside Munich, Doemens, where you could get a master brewer certificate. I called him, and detecting my strong interest in the field, he offered me an apprenticeship. I worked under him for a couple of years before heading off to Doemens." From 1995 to1997, Bryans studied at the lesser-known, yet prestigious, Bavarian academy. "Most people associate a Meisterbrauer degree with the Weihenstephan school," says the diminutive beer dynamo, "but there are those who hold Doemens in higher regard. At Weihenstephan, you are not required to have had hands-on experience to get your master’s certificate. Just to attend Doemens, you need several years of brewing experience." Bryans’ alma mater lies in nearby Gräfelfing and offers an education that is, according to the Beantown brewer, "the difference between night and day" in comparison to an American school. "In fact," assures Bryans, "you can become a head brewer for any brewery in the States without having studied it at all." Bryans’ workplace is much like that of the many brewpubs spawned by the 1990s trend. On an upper level, Plexiglass walls reveal floor-to-ceiling fermentation tanks, which drain the finished product down to refrigerated vessels behind eatery lines. Though the custom beer is a draw for some aficionados, Bryans says food quality is what brings in by far the most money. "Only 3 percent of our customers come for the beer. Microbreweries have become so common, it is important to offer great food at reasonable prices." Does she derive ego satisfaction from handcrafting specialty beers for such a small clientele? "Sure," smiles the overall-donning professional. "I get to do what I love, and people enjoy it." The somewhat modest creator is called upon — by the Brew Moon chain with five locations in Honolulu, Pennsylvania, D.C., Braintree, Massachusetts, and her home turf near Harvard University — to brew several "house" beers. "We have, among others, ‘Munich Gold,’ a Helles-style beer, and ‘Moonlight,’ an American-style lager, on the permanent menu," explains Bryans. "In addition, I get to play with a few specials. My basil beer won a silver medal at the Great American Beer Festival in Denver." Basil beer? Upon hearing — probably for the thousandth time since producing the lightly herbed lager — that it must taste great with Italian cuisine, Bryans grins patiently, "Oh, but it is so much more versatile!" A tour of the brewing areas uncovers the truth about beer making. It seems it takes more than strength to schlep heavy grain sacks or proficiency with modern equipment to create a fine brew. Bryans rattles off scientific formulas and industry-specific terms as she points to the various tanks and their attached gizmos. "Grains are milled upstairs and sent down the auger to the grist case," she shares. Barley malt — barley that has been roasted (the longer the roast the darker the beer) — is poured in the a 5 feet in diameter, 6 foot-high "mash and lauter tun." The mashing process consists of combining grains with hot water. Lautering then begins, the malt and water being stirred by mixing rakes to extract as many simple sugars, or maltose, from the grains as possible. The resulting liquid, known as wort, is then drained through a sieve into a large kettle for boiling. The leftover wet barley malt is then discarded or, in some cases, delivered to local farms for feeding livestock. Bryans notes: "It is the wort that can be smelled on the streets of Munich on any given day. I love the aroma! To me, its scent resembles that of oatmeal, but you should see the sour faces on my fellow travelers on the subway after I’ve been brewing all day!" The wort is then boiled for approximately 90 minutes, during which hops are added. Hops, the dried flowers of a climbing plant grown all over the world — though most brewers agree the finest ones come from Bavaria’s Hallertau region — give beer its bitter flavor. "This is where I can be creative," asserts Bryans. "Hops have a variety of characteristics. Some have a citrus flavor, some spicy, some piney and ‘resiny’ and some have a berry or currant note. We generally order Hallertau hops from Germany, but Yakama, Washington farms grow the Hallertau hops as well." In shedding further light on the boiling process, the Braumeisterin matter-of-factly pulls science and chemistry from her bag of brewing tricks. "Hops have an antibacterial property and keep beer stable. It is in the kettle that the proteins and tannins are released. Coagulated proteins are then separated from the wort." In the final phases, the wort is transferred — through a comb-shaped metal gadget known as a heat exchanger, in which the liquid is cooled while heating water for subsequent batches — to the fermentation tank. The pipe, which carries the future beer to its destination, is infused with oxygen. "At this point," says Bryans, "we add the yeast. Yeast requires oxygen to grow and multiply more quickly. The yeast gobbles up the simple sugars over a period of three to six weeks, depending on what type of beer we are making. It usually takes three weeks for ales and five to six for lagers." While the "hungry" yeast does its work, alcohol and carbon dioxide, or, "fizz," are produced. In America, the alcoholic content of beer may range from 3.4 to 4.2 percent. A malt beverage with a higher proof must be labeled "malt liquor." Munich lagers tend to have an alcohol content of between 4.9 and 5.6 percent, Bock- or Starkbier may provide a kick of up to 10 percent. In the final step, the beer is filtered. "Our stouts are unfiltered," explains Bryans, "but the others are sent through an electric filter filled with diatomaceous earth." Dya-toe-mayshus what? "Kieselgur," laughs the beer techie. "It’s pebble-like stuff that sits on about 16 disks inside the filter chamber. As the beer flows through, the tiny stones trap sediment. The machine is pressurized so we don’t lose any CO2." From the second floor fermentation area, Bryans’ "Improper Hopper," "Big Bang Brown" ale and "Eclipse" oatmeal stout — names authored by the restaurant’s clever Director of Brewing Operations, Scott Hutchinson, to fit with the Brew Moon title — are drained down pipes leading to the refrigerated serving tanks behind the bar. Brewing takes place once or twice weekly, depending on demand. In an effort to maintain consistency between the brewpub’s five locations, yeast cultures won by multiplication during the fermentation process are shared. "We sometimes share beer as well. When one of my machines is down, I simply have my house varieties shipped in from one of the other Brew Moons." Though Bryans learned her craft in what is considered to be the world’s beer capital, Munich, where the Reinheitsgebot — a law in place since 1516 — prohibits the addition of preservatives or any ingredients other than the traditional ones, she is excited about designer beers. "I love the creativity in the U.S.," exclaims the hobby jogger. "There is something moribund about the German brew tradition. Herbal and flavored beers, as long as they are produced using only natural ingredients, can be unique and delicious. Raspberry extract is awful, but the essence of the fresh fruit can be good." Wooden kegs, stored behind retail lines whose contents are not for sale, contain Bryans’ latest creation — Belgian Lambic-style beer. "As well as yeast, the Lambics are produced with other cultures that make it very sour. I took some of those residuals from a bottle of the import and brewed one with cranberries and one with Maine blueberries." Bryans’ delightful, tart brew somehow mimics a sparkling wine. As for her take on the microbrewery fad, Bryans says it has peaked. "When microbreweries first started cropping up on every corner it was clear many would not make it. Equipment rental is very expensive, and many couldn’t keep up with the monthly payments. In recent years, larger American breweries — such as Miller/Coors and Budweiser — have bought up popular regional brands to cop more of the market." Today’s consumer, therefore, often doesn’t realize that the beer he is buying is no longer made in town, but in Milwaukee or Portland. Do not despair: addresses on labels reveal that many microbrews have continued to thrive without the aid of the giants of generic American beer. A matter of curiosity is Bryans’ choice of a male-dominated profession. In an interview for the Boston Globe, she sums it up without the slightest grumble: "It’s a great profession. I love it so much, and I’d like to attract more women to it. Where are all the women?" But perhaps the most important question for natives and transplants of the Isar city: what is Bryans’ favorite Munich beer? "Spaten Pils," discloses the Natick, Massachusetts resident, "and Schneider Weisse. I like Augustiner Helles and Edelstoff, too." And a sip of Bryans’ "Munich Gold," which recalls the scent emanating from Löwenbräu on a hot day at Stiglmaierplatz, proves America’s award-winning master brewer was here. <<<