HODO Day

I "Yard Dog Brewing" have been in the game for about two and a half years now, and the joy and exuberance of brewing has been smacked around with it's fair share of bad batches and missteps. The lofty and confident expectations two years ago of Batch #4 (English Pale Ale), were brought back down to earth, in a fiery inferno reminiscent of the Hindenburg, by the judges and other competitors in the local homebrew competition, with a last place finish. I traipsed back to my brew kitchen, tail between my legs, and drowned my losses, in my overly cloying, imbalanced beer. With lots of beer induced self reflection, I learned some valuable tips that day. I vowed to take their words as a helping hand, rather than a smack down of critique. With the experience of many batches since then, and the help and knowledge from good brew friends, the wounds of that day have healed. Needless to say, when Good People Brewery announced the "Heart of Dixie Open" (HODO), I was more than apprehensive to enter a brew. The scar of Batch #4 was still visible every time I opened up the brewing log. With some encouragement from family and friends, who always seem to rave about the latest batch of homebrew, I gave in, and decided to enter. Oh what the hell, "Damn, the torpedoes", why not enter two. Yard Dog Brewing was all in. I decided to sail into harm's way with, "Not Your Mother's Milk Stout" a sweet stout (Batch #13), and "Wee Hefty, Christmas Kilt" a spiced Wee Heavy (Batch #14). With the dye cast, the date of HODO came up quickly. Beat 12, decided to ease the gameday jitters that afternoon, by stopping at The J Clyde, an off the main street pub, at least to this non-Birminghamian or Brummie. Had HODO not been the reason for the trip, I could have easily bellied-up to the 50-60 taps that hung longingly behind the bar, along the fieldstone wall, wrapped around the corner to the biergarten in the back, and enjoyed beer after beer, but I'll save that for another post. Once nerves were calmed with a couple of pints and a "Gus Burger" (The over easy fried egg poured out over the perfectly cooked burger like a creamy condiment from Canaan), we were off to Good People to enjoy their offerings, and await the results. The brewery's tasting area was packed with patrons, and other eager homebrewers. So after we received our first round, Beat 12 (Mumbai Rye) and I (Snake Handler), we decided to separate ourselves from the "Madding Crowd", and gave ourselves the self guided tour. As we perused the towering stainless steel vats of fermenting and conditioning concoctions, we talked like idealistic undergrads finishing off the keg on the back porch after a late night party. We dreamed about how cool it would be to brew beer for a living, before being shooed out of the area by a brewery staff member. We made our way back to the bar and ordered a "Fatso". This brew left no doubt of it's imperial status, as it shoved around it's full bodied weight on your palate. A good beer to stay warm with as we nuzzled into it's folds and awaited the results of the competition. Then finally, judgement hour was upon us. The crowd hushed as the PA system mumbled the emcee's words of thanks to the judges and 140 entrants. Beat 12's plan of nerve relaxation had seemed to have paid off, as I only gave a half-hearted ear to the struggling acoustics. At this point, I was happy that it had been a fine Saturday afternoon. The first winner announced was an entrant for the Session IPA, and I clapped in support for the gentleman, as he received hugs and congratulations from his group of friends. He walked up to claim his prize, and immediately the emcee went on to announce the finalists of the open competition. Then, next out of the chute, "In fifth place, with a sweet stout," was all I needed to hear. At that moment, like an epiphany of divine clarity, I knew. Beat 12's knew as well. His eyes widened, as my feelings went numb. I almost couldn't believe it, a finalist. A finalist in one of the first legal homebrew contests in the state. I felt like a rock star surfing on the crowd, as I walked up to the stage to graciously claim my prize, a wood branded official HODO mash paddle. The prize was quite cool, and after I mimicked a few homerun swings, in an area free and clear of anyone, I realized what the other items was that I was handed. A folder of the judge's notes. Oh, I was ready to read the comments from the experts. I tore through the manila envelope as if I just pulled the big envelope from my college of choice out of the mailbox, and dove right in. I went straight to the overall impression section to bask in the glowing reviews, "Good beer, but falls a little short of the competitors in the finals", "Needs more sugary/sweetness, to much roast for me...I want more of that lactose taste, too bitter", "Good effort...". Beat 12 read alongside of me. He gave me a pat on the back, and reiterated, "I can't believe it! You were a finalist!" I was confused. I was a finalist, but? As Beat 12 returned back from the bar with a celebratory round, I took a gulp. It took me a minute, and a few more swigs, but then my mind was redirected back to Batch #4.  All failures, with the right perspective, can bear great optimism. I finished off the round with one more mouthful. Now that I think about it, even better. I was sandwiched in the middle of the all too scary critique, and a prize of honest praise of a finalist for a job well done. It was a beer nirvana sweet spot. Brew on!