How to make homebrew that doesn't taste like homebrew.

Dan Small's homebrewing shop makes me want to farm. Mostly it's the smell in there - the fresh barley, hops, and malt extracts. Opening the door feels magical, like finding a portal into 18th century England after tripping over a needle on East Hastings.

Dan is a friendly man in spectacles. He emits a calm hum of DIY knowledge, but seems unaware of how many anarchists name-drop his store on a regular basis.

"Counter-culture. Huh," he says, tilting his head like I have named an obscure European film. "I don't really think of myself as being a part of that." He turns back to the wooden shelves he is building in the back room, patiently sanding each panel.

"I grew up on an orchard, and my father taught me how to brew with the apples we had." He stops, thinks, and shrugs. "We made lots of stuff out there."

He makes it sound easy, and has convinced many of Vancouver's starving artists to brew at home with fresh ingredients rather than relying on kits. When Dan arrived in Vancouver a number of years ago, there was nowhere to buy fresh supplies. After years of ordering his own ingredients at inflated prices through U-Brew stores, he finally bought one of them, moved it to 692 E. Hastings, and ordered large amounts of good things to sell to others. His clientele is steadily growing, and reflects the neighborood's increasingly arty demographic.

"It's mostly artists... and musicians," explains Dan. "Lots of musicians." I ask why he thinks this is the case, and he looks at me like I am slow or tired.

"They're broke."

Later on, Dan shows me his "band practice jugs" in the back of the store, which he simply fills from one of his kegs and brings to practice every week. I begin to wonder how much of Vancouver's music scene is fueled by Dan's supplies.

Brewing from home is indeed cheap, and not as much work as you might think. It takes time, about four hours for every batch, and an initial investment of fifty dollars in supplies. Since you spend about twenty-five dollars for twenty-three litres of decent beer, this will pay itself off in the first batch. From then on, I suggest brewing often. You are legally allowed to brew as much as you and your immediate family can consume. I favour a loose interpretation of this rule, and let others "sample" beer often.

Once you jump into brewing, the constant compliments on your tasty brew may cause your head to swell, leading to careless mistakes and explosions. This does not have to happen to you. Listed below are some words of advice from experienced Vancouver homebrewers.

On The Subject of Being Intoxicated While Brewing

The consensus in this department is overwhelmingly in favour of said activity. However, there are limits. "Take your time, drink a beer," says Matt Thompson. "Just don't drink five." Matt learned this the hard way one night, after attempting to brew in a drunken stupor at 1am, leading to partial blindness and misread instructions. "It was terrible," he says, shaking his head. "Undrinkable."

I asked Dan if he drinks while brewing, and he looked at me in shock. "I don't think I've ever brewed without having at least one beer. It's bad luck." He reconsiders a moment later. "But don't drink crappy beer. That's also bad luck."

On The Subject of Beer Which Gushes Forth From The Bottle, or Explodes

It happens. You go to a party, excited to show off your new batch of honey ale, and as soon as you pull off the cap, the entire kitchen is sprayed in a champagne-like volcano of beer foam. This is likely a result of overpriming your batch before the bottling stage. During priming, you add a small amount of honey (or other sugary substance) to your 10 day-old beer. This activates any remaining yeast and carbonates your beer while in the bottle. Too much sugar means too much yeast activity, and thereforetoo much carbonation. Colder temperatures than normal can lead yeast to become dormant during brewing, then overactivate from after a normal amount of priming, producing more carbonation. If this happens, the best thing to do is chill your beer for a few hours or longer, and even chill the glass you pour into, thus reducing the tendency to gush.

In its most extreme form, carbonation leads to exploding bottles, as it did for a former roommate of mine. I walked in to find him wielding a giant wooden plank, carefully approaching a bathtub full of bottles with oven mitts on both hands. Apparently this was not the first time. He explained how his last batch of ginger beer had exploded in his uncle's cupboard, causing the entire bomb squad to show up. This is rare, and generally a result of not following instructions before you have reached the stag where you should stop following instructions.

On The Subject of Embarrassingly Flat Beer

This is the opposite problem from the one listed above, stemming from opposite actions. Underpriming could be the problem, or colder temperatures after bottling, causing slower yeast activity.

The Matter of Disposing of Ruined Batches

Sometimes a batch is undrinkable. There will be someone who wants to drink it anyway. Years ago, a friend of mine once left an entire batch of beer under a junk pile in his backyard, and was later reminded by a phone call from his old house-mates, who had found a free pile of beer. "You're never going to believe this! We found a whole case of beer!"

They lived, but most became slightly ill over the next week, and this friend was labeled Careless and Irresponsible. If the beer is bad, pour it out.

Upon Discovering That Beer Is Not The Only Alcohol

Once you get the hang of beer, make wine. Or make wine first. Or do both at once. Whatever you like. Cider? Go for it. Buy a still; go nuts. Many of these alcohols end up cheaper, because ingredients can be scavenged locally instead of bought. People have been brewing booze out of whatever they could get their hands on for thousands of years. I have heard of people making garlic beer, chili beer, tomato wine, asparagus ale, and even milk beer (now available in parts of Japan). Dan mentioned a few weird ones, brought in by eager customers for him to sample. The weirdest?

"Onion wine," he says definitively. "I don't know what he was thinking."

For more details, go down to see the guru himself at Dan's Home Brewing Supplies 692 E. Hastings, or check out his website at www.beermaking.ca.