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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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Copyright ©1996 or
1997, Abilene Reporter-News / Texnews / E.W. Scripps. Publications
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