Keep Calm, and Brew On

Being a parent is easy.  I didn’t even have to pass a test to become one.  That makes being a parent easier than driving a car, or getting into college.  Not even a background check.  Piece of cake, nothing to it, what’s the big deal?  I can sit on my butt, drink beer, and still be a perfect dad.

Parenting...

Yeah, right.

Parenting is hard. 

Fortunately, I'd read all the parenting books.  I was ready for the challenges of fatherhood.  I know how to engage with my daughter in a way she understands, I know how to redirect her when she gets upset, how to comfort her, how to properly discipline her without raising my voice or losing my temper.

I’m just kidding, I don’t know any of that stuff.

No, as much as I love my daughter with all of my heart, sometimes she drives me nuts. Sometimes, I raise my voice.  And sometimes, I have no idea if what I’m doing, despite every good intention, isn’t totally screwing her up for the rest of her life.

What I’m trying to say is, we do our best as parents, filled with the often-contradictory information about what is good for kids and what isn’t, unsure about what will actually make a difference in their lives, and filled with the awe-inspiring knowledge that we can either prepare them for their future success or failure with every minor decision we make. 

No pressure.

So we agonize over seemingly trivial choice: Which elementary school should she go to?  What educational philosophy should we embrace?  (Spoiler alert: It’s not Montessori.)  What sports should she play?  Ballet or gymnastics?  Flag football or cheerleading?  Will giving her chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast increase her risk for type 2 diabetes in 20 years?  What summer camp should she go to?  How on earth are two working parents supposed to figure out summer vacation?

And why can’t anyone answer these questions for us!?

I know when things start to get stressful at work, I start to think I need a day off.

But you never really get a day off from being a parent.  It’s something of a lifetime commitment.

I’m generally a laid-back, roll-with-the-punches kind of guy (which is why my daughter always asks me about those aforementioned chocolate chip pancakes), but I’ve been feeling the pressure a lot more lately. 

Part of this stems from my job, which has become a lot more stressful lately.  I know better than to let my work-life interfere with my home-life, but hey, life happens.  On top of that, my daughter has turned into a fiercely independent free-spirit, which I’m, on the one hand, proud of and grateful for.   

On the other hand, when you’re on a tight schedule, convincing said free spirit to stop dancing around the driveway and get the g*&%@#m car is not always the easiest part of the day.

So, I’ve been working on my mantra:

Keep calm, and brew on.

How is that going to help?

It has to do with beer and monks.

I’m brewing a Belgian ale in the style of the Belgian Trappist monasteries.  And making a Trappist beer means a lot more than following a recipe.  It means thinking like a monk.

This may seem a little strange, but I find something very compelling about the monastic lifestyle of simplicity and work, prayer and meditation.   I always figured that being a monk could be a decent fall-back plan, although I’d always assumed I’d become a Taoist monk, since they had Kung-Fu, but Christian monks have beer, and that’s almost the same thing.  (That sentence alone shows how little I truly know about Taoism, kung-fu, and monasteries.)

And how does one make a Trappist beer?

Well, there are no end of recipes out there, but to really make something special, I believe you first have to embrace the core principles of monastic brewing:  study, self-sufficiency, and patience.

As it happens, these are three things that I find are in all too short supply in our everyday lives.  Convenient how that works out, don't you think?

So first, we need to learn about the beer, study the brewing process and understand what makes Trappist beers different from other beers.

I started by drinking some Trappist-style beers.  (Research is hard...)  Next, I looked into the brewing process, and identified the differences between brewing Trappist ale and other beers. Two things popped up immediately:  yeast and sugar.

As it turns out, the Belgian beers of Trappist monasteries rely on specific strains of yeast for their unique flavors.  This isn't too surprising.  I've found that yeast plays an important role in most Belgian beers.  Which makes me think, what's the deal with Belgian yeast?  Did Nature just get drunk when it came to Belgium?

"Most Gratuitous Use of the Word 'Belgium' in a Serious Screenplay or Beer Blog"

Belgian beer is also made with large amounts of sugar (dubbed “candi sugar”).  Most brewers, especially in this country, turn up their noses at brewing with sugar, believing it cheapens the final product.  However, Belgian Candi Sugar, which looks exactly like un-colored rock candy, can be found in most homebrew stores.  But it turns out, that isn’t the candi sugar they’re talking about.  Trappist Monks use a dark caramel syrup that they call candi sugar, and it's not easy to procure outside of Belgium.

That seemed to pose a problem.

But monks are also a self-sufficient bunch.  They probably don't buy their beer supplies at some homebrew store.  So, I decided to make my own candi sugar syrup by cooking sugar until it carmelized.

So, where did that leave me?  Well, having embraced the monk’s example of diligent study, I had done my homework on the strain of yeast to use.  Embracing self-sufficiency, I'd even made my own candi sugar.  Now I came to the most important lesson of monk-style brewing: patience.

Beer (for fear of repeating myself) requires a lot of patience.

And as I put the beer into the basement to ferment and age, I downloaded some Gregorian chants to play, just to make the yeast feel at home.  And on the stairs leading down to the basement, I put up a friendly reminder to, please, be quiet.  The beer is resting. 

In Dutch.

Maybe it was the chants, maybe it was the soft sound of bubbles of carbon dioxide gurgling through the airlock, but as I waited for the beer to ferment and mature, I began to think and to reflect, which is, I believe, one of the reasons that monks brew such strong beers.  Waiting for them to mature gives one ample time for reflection.

Maybe, at the monasteries, they consider the nature of existence, or the way God manifests His will.  I don’t know, go ask a monk.

I took that time to consider my role in this world, and my role as a father and husband.

I’ve decided that, as long as I follow certain simple rules, I won’t screw my daughter up (too much).

1)        Be patient, especially with yourself.  It’s okay to lose your temper, that’s what tempers are for.  But if you find yourself yelling, take a breath, calm down, and apologize.  That’s what you would want them to do.

2)         Teach by example.  Your kids will listen to almost nothing you say, but will see everything you do.  Be the kind of person you want them to be.

3)         Keep it simple.  Like the monks, practice self-sufficiency.  Don’t spend money on a movie or a new toy, when a cardboard box and a pack of crayons can yield a long afternoon of fun and excitement.

4)          As long as you love your children, you're doing a lot more right than wrong.

5)         Value learning.  Like the monks.  Because if you value learning, your children will value learning (see Rule 2).

6)     But most of all, be patient.  Keep calm, and brew on.

If that fails, just flip to the Troubleshooting part of the manual.  (You did get one, didn’t you?)