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Bible Belt Brewers bunch would rather brew than stew

By Bill Whitaker

To hear members of the budding Bible Belt Brewers talk, they'd be the last ones to ever abuse beer.

After all, they've doted over, babied, sweated, even wept over the small batches of beer they've personally crafted. The result is something to be savored, sniffed and admired -- never quaffed in the mad rush of thirst or the heat of battle.

Which is probably why the Bible Belt Brewers' conversation remained sparkling throughout their first local Octoberfest, even after the moon rose high over Joe Cress' house. No one got down on all fours to howl. Nor did anyone bark like a dog.

Instead, each brewer was like a proud papa, taking a bottle of his handcrafted brew around to anyone with an empty glass and pouring a nourishing bit out for colleagues and friends to consider, savor and, hopefully, appreciate.

"Home brewers are not really party people," 33-year-old Rob Gwilt reminded me during a meticulously organized Octoberfest beer-judging earlier that day. "They're in it for the flavor and the taste.

"It's the quality, not the quantity."

So also says Rob Frazier, 40, a hale and hearty McMurry staffer who got to know the glories of fine beer during his days as an Army captain in Germany and who now stubbornly brews his own.

"Why would you want to take something that took you six weeks to make and drink it all in one night?" he said.

DON'T SHOOT!

Meet the Bible Belt Brewers, a good-natured club, mostly male, who in the travels of life have somehow come into contact with truly good beer. Because good, fresh beer isn't easy to get, though, they have resigned themselves to painstakingly brewing it at home.

If members of the Bible Belt Brewers are proud, it's because their best efforts have come about by trial and error. In some cases, they have even risked life and limb, such as when overly carbonated bottles began blasting their tops off in great indignation.

"I thought my apartment was caught in some kind of gunfight," Rob Frazier said, recalling the dark, wee hours of one morning when he was awakened by blasts in his San Antonio apartment. "I crawled through my apartment, too, all scared.

"Then I caught the whiff of hops."

Home-brewing used to be illegal, but all that changed when President Jimmy Carter -- perhaps our most religious president -- approved legislation to allow the brewing of so many gallons each year for home usage. It is a tradition that goes back to our first president, George Washington. Only stipulation: You can't sell the stuff.

Since President Carter inked the necessary papers, fine imported and individually handcrafted domestic beers have increased in popularity. But so has home-brewing, which renders beer or ale a taste that is, simply, delicious, almost yummy, regardless of whether it's a porter, lager, bock, brown ale, nut brown ale, pale ale or bona fide Octoberfest beer.

Last Saturday I drank some styles of beer I normally don't enjoy, at least when purchased at a store. But as home brew, each and every one I tasted was uniquely winning, something to relish and, yes, respect.

SQUID IN EVERY BOTTLE

In an age when commercial beer companies are often engaged in gimmicky campaigns and outrageous shenanigans that have little to do with taste, such truths are important to connoisseurs.

"In commercial beers, you do see a lot of gimmicks," sighed 30-year-old Nick Campiglia of Dyess Air Force Base, the club's "primary fermenter" or president. "There's one beer where this guy would boil squids and put 'em in the bottle and sell it as Squid Beer.

"Then another had this beer that, when it hit a certain temperature, it would glow. It was like a Halloween beer. My dad bought some and brought it down from Ohio with him. Tasted like regular old beer to me."

Such nonsense explains why home brewers would rather just do it themselves, rather than count on commercial brewers.

Formed last spring -- during the Ides of March, Rob Frazier likes to tell people -- the Bible Belt Brewers meet once a month, exchanging tips about home-brewing the way women have about baking and cooking.

When they are baffled, they consult Bob Gwilt, who runs Brew Masters on Butternut, or William Canada, who runs Canada Homebrew Supply on Industrial. Both supply equipment, materials, ingredients and, most importantly, encouragement.

It was only a matter of time before local home brewers' own pride brought about the need for a beer-judging, if only to establish bragging rights.

JUSTICE IS BREWING

So it was last weekend. One morning several men gathered behind William Canada's garage. Someone took the role of steward and began rationing out numbered bottles of beer and ale to a panel. Each panel judged a particular style of beer.

The judges remained in good cheer throughout the process. They also knew better than to criticize anyone's beer with any undue harshness.

"I don't cast stones," Rob Frazier said, thinking back on his misadventures in San Antonio. "I've had batches (of beer) that didn't turn out. I mean, those first two cases I had were really hand grenades!"

Best of show was won by John Clayton, 32, a Hardin-Simmons University student.

Composed of about 30 paid members, the club last spring was unanimous in adopting its name, Bible Belt Brewers, largely to signify the region of Texas they live in, not to poke fun at the locale. However, they have yet to choose a motto for the club.

Two mottos are front-runners: "Dedicated to life, liberty and the pursuit of hoppiness" and "We're here, we're brewing beer, get used to it."

 

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