POKIN AROUND: A man, his dream, and beer
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| Ryan Prewitt photo -- Sean Sweeney of St. Charles draws the first glass of his very own beer. |
There's another one, a blue carboy, "rescued" from a pharmaceutical company.
"Look at this thing, isn't it great?" asks Sean Sweeney, who lives here.There are beakers and bottles, large and small, with and without labels. Some are filled with liquid and have handwritten stickers: MB1, MB2, MB3, MB4.
There's a glass container of a red fluid. A bag of beechwood chips. A 25-kilo sack of European grain. A milk container labeled "Orange Blossom Honey, spring 2008."
We've got old soda-syrup canisters. And more grain - buckwheat and sorghum.
In the clutter is a gram scale. As well as an old baby's scale from a pediatrician's office. Plus more tubing.
What's this man up to? Should someone call the FBI?
STARTS WITH A DREAM
Sweeney, 40, is a tall man (6 foot 2) with a big dream. It's not an Olympic dream. It involves beer.
For 17 years he's been a home brewer. He cut his teeth on wine and moved on to beer. That's not to say there weren't other adventures in fermentation.
"Sean has been experimenting on us for 20 years," says longtime friend Vince Nack of St. Charles. "He has made everything from cider to wine to a particular cherry moonshine that had us howling at the moon."
Sweeney wants to be a professional brewer. He wants, someday, to own a brewery and sell his own beer.
Oh sure, you say, just like every Little Leaguer wants to be a big-leaguer. What are the chances?
It's a tough road, but Sweeney has talent and persistence. He routinely wins brewing awards and in 1997 created a gluten-free beer that gathered national attention after he met a man with celiac disease - an autoimmune intolerance to all forms of wheat and related grains.
On Wednesday night Sweeney stepped closer to his dream when he pulled a custom tap handle - which he made - and drew the first glass of his very own beer at the Buffalo Brewing Co., 3100 Olive St. in St. Louis.
This time he wasn't giving it away. It cost $3.75 a glass. There should be enough to last a month.
The beer, Belgian Dubbel, was made from Sweeney's recipe. He also did much of the grunt work when the brewing process started at the pub July 19.
Dave Johnson, the brewer at Buffalo Brewing, could have picked anyone. But he immediately thought of Sweeney and his Belgian Dubbel.
"For one thing, every time I've had it it's been fantastic," said Johnson, 46, who also works as a brewer at O'Fallon Brewery.
The plan at Buffalo Brewing is to intermittently feature various other home brews. Owner Dushan Manjencich wants to offer something different at his pub, which opened in March.
"The Belgian Dubbel can create some excitement," he said.
REJECTION AND 'BEER BOMBS'
Sweeney has come a long way. In his early days, friends were not always enthusiastic when he showed up at parties with samples of his developing craft.
"I've had my fair share of dogs in my time," he says.
Home brewers cannot sell their finished product, he says. They either drink it or give it away.
"Most people would be cordial and try to be polite," he says. "You can tell from their first sip it wasn't so good. They really didn't need any more of it."
He also had the occasional "beer bomb," when mistakes in carbonation caused sealed bottles to explode.
But all that's changed. Friends today often request one of his brews for parties and housewarmings.
Sweeney still makes an occasional honey wine, also called mead, for weddings. In fact, he became a minister via the Internet so he could preside at friends' weddings. He once dressed as a monk, officiated, and then served his wine.
WHY A BREWER?
First of all, Sweeney says, it's a creative outlet.
"It's similar to cooking," he says. "Formulating a recipe is a very creative act."
Brewers typically are a cross between artist and nerd, he says. It takes an artist to experiment with new ingredients and new combinations of hops, malts and yeasts, he says.
But it also takes a nerd - or someone with a scientific bent - to make meticulous, recorded measurements of ingredients, temperatures and times. Without that, he says, when you finally hit something good you have little chance of replicating it.
Sweeney, a 1986 graduate of St. Charles West High School, lettered in drama. He worked behind the scenes in set construction and lighting.
"I gravitated toward the nerd end of what would typically be considered an artistic high school experience," he says.
He was drawn to brewing for many reasons. There are the social aspects. He shares his brews and is an active member of two home-brewers clubs: the St. Louis Brews, with 140 members in St. Louis County, and the Garage Brewers Society, with 50 members in St. Charles County, which meets monthly at the O'Fallon Brewery.
Finally, there's something else derived from brewing your own beer, he says.
The beer.
"You have to love beer," he says.
THIS MAGIC MOMENT
For Wednesday's debut, Sweeney made his own tap handle. It includes a picture of a monk. Trappist monks first brewed Belgian Dubbel 500 years ago. They made it during Lent, Sweeney says, because of its nutritious value. The monks considered the hearty brew a "liquid bread."
Although the basic ingredients are the same, not all Belgian Dubbels are identical. Just like not all hamburgers are the same.
The time has come. Sweeney moves behind the bar and draws the first glass.
"Now that's a great-looking beer," he says.
The brew is served in snifter glasses, which have a bowl that narrows at the top. The servings are only 10 ounces because of the high alcohol content: 7 percent. A typical beer is 4 to 5 percent.
About 25 people are in the pub. Most are from the home-brew clubs. They are complimentary of their friend's beer and use words like "clean," "fresh" and "fruity."
At a far booth is Stacy Connelly, 25, of the Central West End. He does not know Sweeney. Connelly just finished a six-beer sampler and judged Sweeney's the best.
"It's got a good, bold flavor," Connelly says. But unlike some of the other samples, he says, "it wasn't overwhelming."
For Sweeney, the night is a success. (He was reimbursed for expenses, but was not paid.)
"It could be a nice jumping-off point to help me get into this business," he says.
His livelihood of today is computer repair and consulting. He is single, never married, and lives with his mother in her home. He moved back after a virus attacked his heart in 2004. He was on a heart transplant list when the swelling subsided.
Sweeney poses for photos at the front of the bar with friends. They hoist their snifters.
In terms of life's milestones, Sweeney ranks this night, this accomplishment, as a sweet moment.
"It's right up there with being born," he says.
