“Hop” Beer In The Cellar

An attempt to make homemade beer goes very wrong.

“Hop” Beer In The Cellar

I have mentioned on occasion that even though my father was a hardworking man there was never enough money to pay all the bills.

As a result, he was always on the lookout for ways to supplement the family income.

In a previous story I described one of his plans to earn extra cash.

This story runs in the same vein and tells of yet another adventure on which he embarked in order to do the same.

My father was close friends with a cobbler by the name of Giuseppe.

Giuseppe came from the same province in Italy where my father’s parents were born.

They spent a great deal of time together talking in Italian about everything including their families, their jobs, and even local politics.

They truly enjoyed each other’s company.

My father watched over and protected Giuseppe who was a diminutive man in stature.

He stood just over five feet tall and weighed at most 130 pounds.

Giuseppe was a good man though with a big heart.

Giuseppe often mended the shoes of the children in the neighborhood free of charge when their parents were unable to pay.

“You can’t let them run through the streets barefoot” he would often say.

As a result, Giuseppe just like everyone else in the community was always looking to make a little extra money.

Besides being excellent at his craft, Giuseppe was also known for his winemaking abilities.

He took great care in preparing each bottle and the taste of the wine was exceptional, especially since it was homemade.

Giuseppe had always hoped to earn a little extra income from his winemaking.

Although he sold an odd bottle here and there, he never made any real money from his efforts.

There were a couple of good reasons why this was the case.

First, it took too long to make and age the wine properly.

Wine involves a double fermentation process and so wine cannot be ready to sell for at least two months.

Good wine takes even longer to age.

Giuseppe loved to make good wine and so he lingered over each bottle he made until he thought it was perfect.

Secondly, and more importantly, Giuseppe’s wine was not popular because he lived in a blue collar neighborhood.

His friends only drank wine on special occasions.

They drank beer on most days.

He often spoke to my father about his desire to sell his wine.

My father on the other hand believed that Giuseppe’s talents could be used to make a more sellable beverage; that being beer of course.

One day he and Giuseppe discussed the possibility.

Giuseppe said he would “hunt down” some recipes for beer to see if he could indeed make it at home.

Several days later Giuseppe tracked down my father and reported what he had found.

He discovered that beer required only a couple weeks to ferment and a couple more weeks to mature in the bottle.

Giuseppe also learned that it only took a few hours to actually prepare the ingredients.

Compared to his winemaking, beer was less labor intensive and less expensive to make.

Within a couple weeks they could be up and running.

If all went well, after brewing the initial batch, it would be easy to make enough beer each day to have a continual supply on hand to sell.

If my father agreed to help brew the beer they would be partners.

My father was in.

Giuseppe said he was willing to pay for the initial start up costs to purchase the ingredients, the bottles, and any other set up expenses.

He would recoup this investment from the sale of the first batch of beer.

It was an almost perfect plan.

Unfortunately, the only issue was space.

Giuseppe’s basement was already filled with his winemaking equipment.

There was no room to make the beer there.

My father agreed to set up the brewing operation in our basement.

They knew if they priced the beer reasonably they could undersell the local liquor stores and bars.

Both men agreed it was a wonderful enterprise.

With so many of the neighborhood men drinking beer how could they lose?

As an added bonus, whatever they didn’t sell, they could drink themselves.

Within days the duo was in business setting up the equipment to make beer in the basement, taking orders from the locals, and counting their future riches.

What could go wrong?

The two men set to work making their first batch late at night in my father’s basement.

Neither man got much sleep those first few days.

Eventually their first run was brewed, bottled, and ready for sale and delivery.

The two exhausted, but very happy men, headed to bed having agreed on a time to meet the next day in order to move the finished product out of the basement and onto the streets.

They never anticipated that fate would intervene.

That night as the men slept a cold weather front came through the area.

The temperature plummeted and during the very early morning hours my brother, who was shivering under his blankets, got
up and adjusted the thermostat.

He turned it way up and then went back to bed.

In the basement the old coal burning furnace kicked in.

When it did, the bottles of beer stored next to it began to heat up.

It was almost dawn when the first explosion came from the basement.

My father heard the noise, but was so groggy from lack of sleep that he did not realize what was happening.

The first initial bang was soon followed by a volley of beer bottle after beer bottle exploding from the heat.

My father rushed to the basement where he could see the disaster unfolding for himself firsthand.

Shards of glass were everywhere, spilled beer was flooding the basement floor, and the sporadic sound of the last few unbroken bottles popping echoed in his ears.

Disappointed my father just stood there and shook his head.

Another good money making idea doomed to fail.

It would not be his last.

All he could do now was wait till it was over, clean up the mess, tell Giuseppe the bad news, and look for another way to make money.

My father was nothing if not resilient.