They Don’t Order Beer, They Make and Dream It

They drink just like everyone else, one gulp at a time. The similarities end there.

Orange County’s top home-brewers chat fluently in the language of hops and malts and proudly shun “commercial” brews.

Bud? Thou shalt not speak thy name.

Their award-winning beers, however, are shelved behind glass at the Orange County Fair. Thirty-nine bottles of home-brew on the wall. Relegated to the corner of a fair courtyard devoted to all things wine.

At the fair, the grape is still king, with seminars devoted to Italian wines and chardonnay. But that doesn’t rattle the home-brew guys and gals, 142 of whom competed for ribbons and bragging rights at this year’s homemade-beer contest.

They’ve got their own backyard barbecue culture, where ecstasy comes from savoring your very own ale and the best beers aren’t sipped cold. A county fair blue ribbon is simply an ego boost.

“First time you make a batch,” said lawyer Matt Udall, 44, who took second place for his India pale ale, “you feel like a god.”

According to the American Homebrewers Assn., about 250,000 people nationwide boil beer in their homes. The process is similar to cooking oatmeal, just longer and with results that play better at parties.

County and state fairs are where many home-brewers compete, said Paul Gatza, director of the Colorado-based AHA. Though wines are more established fare, beer booths have held their own against the displays of jams and jellies since shortly after California legalized home-brewing in 1979.

Brew clubs, with snappy names like Yeast of Eden and Foam on the Brain, usually sponsor the fair contests and round up judges.

At Orange County’s fair, the Barley Bandits, a 20-member club, handles the 14-category, 168-entry battle of the brew. Saturday was their Oscar ceremony, an afternoon of awards, self-congratulation and suds talk.

First-place strong ale: “I can barely remember making this beer.”

First-place porter: “Finally, I get to be the bride.”

First-place strong ale (continued): “They asked me to bring some, but I knew it was a winner before they did. It’s gone.”

The Barley Bandits, based in Orange, have run the competition for 18 years, long before the microbrew rage began bubbling.

Before the early ‘90s, Orange County was “pretty much a wasteland for beer,” said Tom Dalldorf, publisher of Celebrator Beer News in San Leandro, Calif.

The fair’s beer table, with winning bottles showcased behind stacks of pamphlets like A Reverent Guide to Proper Brewing, may not be as ornate as the wine displays. “But the fact that it’s there at all is the result of years and years of saying, ‘Hey, what about us?’ ” Dalldorf said.

At Saturday’s invitation-only brew awards, contestants and judges brought notebooks to trade recipes. Optional accessories: floppy hats and beer-rounded bellies.

Lyn Davidson, a 43-year-old salesman who lugged his “Port-a-Party” kegs to the event, cradled his “beer bible,” a white binder in which he keeps every recipe to come his way, including one called Blonde on Steroids.

Also in the bible are his notes from meetings of the Fermenters, his Laguna Niguel home-brew club. On June 20, 2002, he typed, “These are the minutes as far as I can remember.”

Among the 50 or so invitees, clustered like college kids at a keg party, J.R. Hollingsworth, 46, clutched an empty cup and tried to explain the passion beer ferments.

Following his equation, two brewers can follow the same recipe, but there’s always an X factor: time, temperature, something. They’ll get two ales that taste different.

“It’s cookbook, but it’s not cookbook,” said Hollingsworth, of Lake Forest, who has a doctorate in toxicology. “It’s 90% science and 10% magic. It’s that 10% magic that turns everybody on.”

Restaurant owner Jason Helmick, 30, agreed. “It’s like jazz music: You can have two guys playing the exact same notes, but each gives it different soul.”

Rich Felton, 45, of Tustin took third place in India pale ale, and his Riesling ice wine took Best of Show.

The wine people do a brunch in August, Felton was reminded.

“I have to go to that thing,” he said, fingering his empty cup. “Should I bring some beer?”