Everybody has to Believe in Something…I Believe I’ll Have Another Drink!- Amberine Huda

You know you’re in Wisconsin if you’re being taught how to brew beer. I distinctly remember that Keystone was the poison of choice my freshman year of college. Before I fell into the deluge of micro-brews, I had my heart searching to re-connect with one magical beer I tasted long ago, on my 17^th birthday in London. My sister took me to a Belgian restaurant that, strangely enough, looked like a monastery. The monk – who seemed to be our waiter – informed me that I could choose any fruit and they would have that beer. As he disappeared into the foyer shaped like a pew, my curiosity to connect the beer to the monk grew stronger. The moment the mango beer I requested hit my lips I instantly made the connection. I wasn’t sure whether I should thank God for what He had given me or go to the confessional right next to the Men’s restroom. Simply put, it was the holiest beer I had ever tasted. I learned about Abbey ale and the Trappist monasteries, and I knew I needed another experience. Four years later, I came across Lambic’s Framboise, a Belgian fruit beer sold in Trader Joe’s. That year, I was also recommended to stop complaining and learn how to make my own beer.

            When I saw that monk disappear behind the foyer and bring out the most delicious beer I had ever tasted, I never thought it was possible for me to recreate the miracle. You need big machines, an entire team of people who have been brewing for generations, not three college students who recently received legal permission to drink! It wasn’t until I helped a friend of mine – and former ILS student – bottle an entire case of beer he had made in his Madison home that I realized it was possible. Our group decided to take on the adventure with the help of Charlie Papazian’s The Complete Joy of Home Brewing. The rate at which the activating yeast grew pretty much sums up our anticipation for how these beers would turn out. Sanitizing the equipment, stirring for an hour straight, sanitizing the equipment, putting the yeast in, sanitizing, stirring, sanitizing, stirring…and finally, weeks later, tasting the product we made the most mistakes on – it was even more delicious. Each of us got to put our own spin on our respective beers – our attempt at brewing the Belgian wheat ale of my dreams exceeded every expectation I had for beer, and for myself.

            As I sip on a Lambic Framboise, I think of all that we put into the carboy – our fears, a prepubescent education about beer, our passion and ambition to create something of quality, and a whole lot of yeast. This journey reminds me of a quote that the great Winston Churchill once said: "Always remember that I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me.” Indeed, I will never forget all that I have taken out of beer, and how much it has taken out of me.