Brewing isn’t the kind of job you get into by accident. People often ask me how I became a brewer and the honest answer is simply that I just like beer.
I studied law at university but grew increasingly unhappy with the idea of a legal career and I was desperate to do something more creative that wouldn’t tie me to a desk. Then all of a sudden I became obsessed with craft beer after trying Flying Dog’s Raging Bitch IPA. The sheer explosion of flavour made me decide that I wanted to make beer for a living.
My family were supportive about me leaving my degree behind and retraining to go down this new path. Both my parents worked for the NHS and were unhappy in their jobs, so they were glad to see me try something I felt really passionately about.
When I was job-hunting, a large craft brewery was advertising an entry-level position, and after a few test shifts I got the job. With a 24/7 operation and ever-changing work pattern, the first few months were very tough, and I ended up bedridden with bronchitis after three weeks. But I was determined to succeed, and quitting wasn’t an option.
The company was growing quickly and it didn’t take long to move from basic duties to actually making my own beer. This took a huge amount of practice, as good beer requires a great deal of precision, care and attention. Mostly, however, I had to clear out the mash tun, which involves digging two tonnes of hot, wet malt from a confined space. It’s like mining for porridge in an underground sauna.
After about a year I got the chance to put my own recipe into production, and this is still my favourite part of the job. To be able to combine flavours and judge beer involves intense palate training. This is achieved through drinking many different styles as well as undertaking courses to recognise specific flavours. You can’t simply say a beer is bad because you don’t like it: you need to recognise what is wrong and understand the chemistry. For me this has taken years to grasp, and I’m still learning every day. Just as a chef knows what flavours and textures will work together, a good brewer can create a beer with many layers and nuances. I’ve certainly made more than a few terrible test batches.
Despite trendy breweries and media interest in their owners, the idea that brewing is glamorous is wrong. On any given day I can move several tonnes of malted barley multiple times, spend an hour measuring out yeast and several more scrubbing drains, floors and cleaning fermenters. In my early 20s I used to go out with colleagues the night before a 6am start, and being around beer when you are hungover is torturous. These days I’m much less of a drinker, and prefer to keep a clear head at work as we deal with dangerous chemicals and high temperatures. We usually do tastings first thing in the morning, even though the last thing you feel like at 10am is alcohol. But it’s an important part of the job and has to be done.
A typical day begins at 8am, when we begin the brewing process, which takes between five and eight hours. The rest of the day is taken up with lab work, quality testing, cleaning and the normal admin found in any job. I have to ensure we have enough raw materials to produce the planned beers, as well as guaranteeing they’ll be ready to release by the date customers expect them. By the end of the day I’m usually exhausted from the combination of mental and physical exertion, but over the years I’ve learned my limits and know how to pace myself better.
The best part of my job is the people. Beer festivals are often an excuse to catch up with friends in the industry and to try each other’s beer. You can always count on a fellow brewer to give you honest feedback. On the whole, brewers are welcoming, warm, and want you to succeed. A brewer who tries to undercut others will not last long, and there is a real sense of community and friendship, bound together by a passion for beer.
As a woman in beer there are a number of challenges. Brewing is an overwhelmingly male pursuit, it involves lots of physical work and the hours can be antisocial. Beer marketing is often overtly sexist , and this puts women off joining the profession, but positive changes seem to be under way to help the people who make beer reflect the growing numbers of women drinking it. There are societies dedicated to furthering women working in beer and the reputation of women making good new products always helps. I hope this encourages more women to don their brewing boots.
I have had some unpleasant experiences along the way. As breweries expand they can lose sight of their employees. Choices are often made in order to maintain public image and social media reputation, while behind the scenes there lurks an unhappy crew. People with money and no knowledge of beer are also starting up breweries, relying on bought-in (and badly paid) talent to make a name for themselves. Seeing someone else collecting an award for a beer that you spent the past year working on and improving can be quite disheartening, especially when you know there is no way that they could do it themselves.
While most of my job involves the production of beer, it is impossible to ignore the beer culture that has developed, and this includes a lot of marketing noise. I don’t want to try to brew with space dust; when a bottle is covered with senseless hyperbole I can definitely sympathise with those who dismiss craft beer as a hipster trend. Usually the brewers aren’t the ones doing this, and despite the marketing hype, we really care about making good beer that anyone can drink.
Saying that, I do love my job. Very few industries are as exciting and fast-moving, and you need to be one step ahead of the changes in fashion while still making popular styles that sell well. I also can’t take it too seriously. It’s great to be able to make something that is available around the world, and that people appreciate so much, but at the end of the day it’s just beer and it’s important to remember that.