There is a sharp note to the air: one that begs the companionship of apples, pumpkins and the sweet redolence of ripe fallen leaves. It's this time of year that the brew bug breaks dormancy and bites down hard. Maybe those fairytale witches aren't making potions in their caulrons but beer, cackling away over malty wort. For me, it's not the brewing, it's the malting that fascinates me. I can't help but wonder about all the minutiae offlavor profiles that could be enhanced