See the style while you type
Five bars track BJCP 2021 and stay put while the grain bill scrolls. When you are in range they sit quietly, when you drift out you will know at a glance, and one click asks the assistant to fix it.
The beer you meant to make
By beer nerds,
for everyone.
We make brewing software that moves the style bars at the speed you change your mind, with mash pH right beside the grist. We stocked the catalog the way we shop: Sugar Creek and CNC next to Weyermann, Audacia and Meridian next to Tettnanger, Bootleg Biology and Escarpment next to Wyeast. And if there’s a solera in the basement, yeah, we built a blending tool for that.
1672 fermentables you’d actually buy225 hops1093 yeasts, including the weird ones106 salts, spices and finings76 rigs121 BJCP styles
01 — The studio
Change a hop.
Watch the beer change.
We got tired of catalogs that have not been updated in ten years. The one in here has craft malthouses: Sugar Creek, CNC, Admiral and Blue Ox sit next to Weyermann and Rahr, and Indie Hops releases (Lórien, Luminosa, McKenzie) next to Fuggle and Spalter. If you bought a 50 lb sack because the maltster talked you into it, it is probably already a row.
And you never run a style report, because the answer never leaves the screen: gravity, bitterness, color and strength sit right on the BJCP beer you picked, and the bars move while you’re still making up your mind. Flavor gets the same treatment: every malt, hop and yeast carries its character, and the recipe’s flavor wheels sit over the style’s, so a heavy hand with the chocolate malt shows up before you brew it, not after. The widget beside this is a miniature we made so you can feel it: pick a dark mild, a German pils or a witbier, then nudge the malts and the kettle hops and watch the malt wheel follow. The app runs the full engine, but the feeling is the same.
In the studio: A add an ingredient · ⌘K command palette · ⌘Z undo anything
Try it
German Pils
In style for 5D German Pils
02 — The catalog
Every bag on the shelf,
read off the maker’s sheet.
Most catalogs are a decade of copied spreadsheets, and it shows: one number for “Pale Ale Malt”, a yeast list that stops at the famous dozen, and no way to tell a published figure from somebody’s guess. Ours is read from the maltsters’ and labs’ own specifications, one product at a time.
So a strain carries the attenuation, the temperature band and the flocculation its lab prints — and its STA1 result, so you know before you bottle rather than after. Hops carry their oil breakdowns, and malts carry the maker’s own color rather than a category average. Where a figure simply is not published, we say so instead of inventing one.
And if what you bought is not in it, add it yourself: the malt from the farm down the road goes in as your own and behaves like any other row.
You can browse the whole catalog without an account: every malt, hop, yeast and addition has a reference page of its own, and so does every beer style, with its flavor wheels and the hops and yeasts that suit it.
03 — Water & mash pH
Mash pH next to the grist,
where it belongs.
Most software treats water as a side quest: export the grist, guess at the salts, come back hoping the mash converts. We put the prediction next to the malts instead — your tap report, your gypsum, your lactic, and the pH the mash will actually see.
Pick a water, add acid (lactic, phosphoric, citric if that’s how you mash), watch it fall into 5.2–5.6. Or work backwards: tell it 5.40 and it proposes the additions.
And paste your report rather than typing it. A Ward Labs sheet, a municipal analysis, a lab table from another country — the assistant transcribes what the page prints, our code does every conversion, and afterwards we check, ion by ion, that the numbers add up to a mash pH.
Try it
Mash pH
5.74
Too alkaline: conversion will struggle
04 — Brew day to cellar
The recipe is also
the brew, the log, the cupboard.
Write the mash and hop schedule the way you already do, and we turn it into a timeline for the day, ready to print as a brew sheet. Your actuals sit against our predictions so you can see where the day wandered, and named versions let you restore the beer you liked before you “improved” it.
The calendar knows when dry-hop day is, inventory answers “can I brew this?” before you mill, and a shopping list appears when the Nelson Sauvin runs out. Share links are read-only, so the club can see the beer without touching yours.
When you do want another pair of hands on it, invite your brew buddy to edit. You work on the same recipe from your own accounts, each change reaches the other within a moment, and each of you keeps the numbers for your own kit, so a split batch still adds up on both sides of it.
Put a Tilt, RAPT Pill or iSpindel in the fermenter and the gravity curve draws itself on the batch, your own hydrometer readings on top. Brew enough and Insights turns the log into trends: efficiency, attenuation and yield, brew after brew. Both come with the Beerwright plan, though the efficiency trend is on every plan, because that’s the chart that teaches you what to measure next.
05 — Feedback
Everybody told you it was
“nice.” Now you find out why.
Every other brewing app stops when the beer is packaged. That is the moment the interesting question starts: not what you did, but whether it worked. So print a stack of tasting cards, or a sheet of bottle labels, hand them round at club night, and let people say what they actually think — a QR code on the card or the bottle, a scoresheet on the table, whichever suits the room.
Photograph the paper ones and the assistant reads them. Not “attaches an image to the batch” — reads them, into aroma, appearance, flavor and mouthfeel, scores and all, as rows you can sort. A competition sheet in somebody else's handwriting becomes part of the batch's record.
Then one button asks the obvious question: what do these sheets say about the beer, and what would you change next time? The assistant has the recipe, the brew log, the fermentation curve and now six people's palates, and answers against all of it. Your log stops being a diary of what you did and becomes evidence about whether it was any good. The whole loop — the cards, the sheets and the reading — comes with the Beerwright plan.
06 — Blending
For the folks with a solera
in the basement.
Mixed-ferm, barrels, the lambic you have been topping up since 2019: other software treats all of that as a footnote, so we gave it a session of its own.
Pull your batches in and we do the maths a blend actually needs: volume-weighted TA, [H⁺]-weighted pH, leftover extract that still wants to carbonate, and the acid-shock starter for pitching into a sour blend. If Milk the Funk is already open in another tab, this is that conversation, run on the beers you already logged.
Whatever you put in afterwards counts too: cherry juice by the liter, ten kilos of whole cherries on the scale, honey, a tincture whose alcohol lands the moment it goes in. Every addition carries the day you made it. A blend is not a calculation you run once, either, so yours moves from planned to blended to conditioning to packaged, keeping the day it reached each one and every reading you took on the way.
07 — Journals
For the mead in the corner
and the hot sauce on the sill.
Not everything you ferment is a beer, and not everything worth writing down fits in a recipe. A journal is a page you build as you go: notes, photos, the gravity you took on Tuesday, the pH of the brine, and the calculators a mead or a cider actually asks for, with their inputs kept on the page.
Pin a hydrometer to it and the chart draws itself, with your notes marked on the curve. Attach it to a batch and it becomes the story behind the beer. Share it, and anyone with the link can follow a mead through six months of ageing, because the page keeps up as you write.
08 — The gallery
Publish it.
Let someone else brew it.
Every recipe you write is private until you say otherwise. Publish one and it gets a card in a public gallery: the beer, its style, the vitals, and your name on it. Somebody who likes the look of it clones it into their own workspace in a click and starts changing things, which is the whole point.
You do not need an account to browse, and we will never put a sign-up wall or a “create a free profile to view this recipe” between you and a beer. Filter by style, sort by what people are actually brewing, open any card and read the full grain bill.
A listing captures the version you published, so the card advertises the beer you meant rather than whatever you were mid-way through changing on Tuesday. Update it when you are happy, unlist it whenever you like.
09 — The assistant
It proposes.
You decide.
Ask it to bring a pils into style, to swap the Strata you are out of, or to spin a recipe from “something like a dark mild but with American craft malts.” It reads the actual recipe, picks from the actual catalog, and never writes until you accept.
A suggestion arrives as a card: what would change, and where the bars would land. Accepting is the same as typing it yourself, which is why one undo puts the beer back. It is the friend who will argue IBU with you, not the one who “just made a few tweaks” in your shared spreadsheet.
Try it
A staged change
15 IBU is below German Pils. I’d add 0.6 oz of Hallertau Mittelfrüh at 60 minutes. Bittering, not a late dump. Nothing is written until you say so.
Proposal
Add 0.6 oz Hallertau Mittelfrüh · 60 min
IBU 15 → 24 · OG unchanged
Why switch
The arguments we have
at club night, in the software.
Most recipe tools still send you elsewhere for water, or to a chatbot that will cheerfully invent a malt. We built the one we kept wishing for while standing over a mash tun, arguing about whether to pull a decoction.
Water belongs in the recipe
Your source report, salts, acids and mash pH live in the same place as your malts. Paste the report and the assistant reads it, whoever printed it: no export, no second app, no hoping the mash converts because a spreadsheet said so.
The catalog you’d actually shop
Sugar Creek, CNC, Admiral and Blue Ox; Cashmere, Motueka, Sabro and the HBC codes that have not got a name yet; every liquid yeast house in full, seasonal strains included. Your own malts sit right beside them, because if you can buy it, we would rather it be in the list than “generic pale.”
Numbers with a source
Every figure is the maker’s published one, and where nothing is published we say so rather than quietly averaging the neighbors. That is the difference between a catalog you design against and one you second-guess.
Publish it, or don’t
Your recipes are private by default. Publish one and it lands in a gallery anyone can browse without an account, under your name, clonable in a click. Change your mind, unlist it, and it goes away again.
Write it with the people you brew with
Invite up to five co-brewers to a recipe and you all edit the same one, live: you see who has it open and which row they are on. Undo only takes back your own change, the history says who moved the dry hop, and anyone who leaves keeps a copy.
A blending tool for the cellar
Soleras, barrels and mixed-ferm get TA, pH, leftover extract, fruit and the acid-shock starter, run on the beers you already logged. We built it for the people who already have a barrel in the garage.
Everything else that ferments
Mead, cider, wine, a crock of kimchi: a journal keeps the notes, photos, readings and the cellar calculators in one page that grows with the ferment, shares as a live link, and pins a hydrometer without needing a recipe first.
Decoctions, sized properly
Every calculator gives you the textbook formula, which assumes the tun does not cool while the pot is off it, that the pull comes back at a full boil, and that the boil costs no water. All three are wrong in the same direction, so your mash lands short. We size the pull against the mash it comes back to, tell you how many liters and how much grain to lift out, and put the boil-off in your water bill. Single, double, or the Bohemian triple in one click.
An assistant that cannot overwrite you
It can only name ingredients that exist in the catalog, and every edit arrives as a diff with a live preview. Accepting is a keystroke, and undo is the same keystroke it has always been.
Brew day, batches, the cupboard
The brew gets a tablet-sized timeline, with your actuals against our predictions, and the calendar remembers dry-hop day so you don’t have to. We check “can I brew this?” against your stock and write the shopping list when you can’t. Log the numbers and Insights shows you how your brewing is actually going, brew after brew.
Your library
Bring the two hundred
recipes with you.
Drop in a BeerXML or BeerJSON export from whatever you use today. We parse the file on your machine, nothing is uploaded, and you can do it before you have an account. A malt the catalog does not have, the one from the farm down the road, goes in as your own and follows you across recipes.
The preview answers the only question that matters: did this program understand my file? You see the vitals we compute next to the ones the file claimed, and every ingredient marked as matched or kept with the numbers it came in with.
And if you already paid someone for this year, we count it. Send us the receipt from whatever you are leaving — Brewfather, BeerSmith and Brewer’s Friend are the ones we see most, and the offer is not limited to them — and we put your account on the Brewmaster plan until the subscription you already bought would have run out, up to twelve months. You finish the time you paid for, then decide whether we earned the renewal.
Pricing
Ten recipes free.
Three tiers when you outgrow them.
The whole studio is in the free tier: the caps are on quantity, never on capability. The Brewmaster plan takes the recipe cap off, and the Beerwright plan is for the brewer who measures: live fermentation charts, your whole log turned into trends, and the assistant along for every brew.
Free
10
recipes, and the whole studio. No card.
- 10 recipes
- 5 blending sessions
- 5 journals
- The full editor and live style bars
- Water, mash pH, brew day and inventory
- BeerXML and BeerJSON import
- Sync across your devices
- 5 assistant messages a month
The limits are how many recipes, blends and journals you keep, and they are enforced when you add one, never by deleting one of yours. We will never take away something you have made.
Open the studioBrewmaster
$24.99/yr
or $2.99/mo. The cap comes off.
- Everything in the free tier
- Unlimited recipes
- Unlimited blends
- Unlimited journals
- Up to five co-brewers on a recipe
- 15 assistant messages a month
For the brewer who wants a library without a cap on it. If fermentation charts, your brewing trended or the assistant as a daily tool are why you are here, the next column is the one.
Open the studioBeerwright
$39.99/yr
or $4.99/mo. Brewmaster, plus the measuring.
- Fermentation charts from your Tilt, RAPT Pill or iSpindel
- Your brewing charted: efficiency, attenuation and yield trends
- Tasting cards and bottle labels people scan, and competition scoresheets read for you
- 200 assistant messages a month
- Recipe generation, water advice and diffs
- A fair-use allowance, not a meter
Your fermentations charted while they happen, your brewing charted over years, and an assistant that reads your real recipe and arrives as a diff you accept or reject.
Open the studioUpgrade lives in Settings, once you have an account — and you can use the whole studio signed out, on one device, with no account at all.
Questions
Worth asking first
- Do I have to sign in to try it?
- No. Signed out, you get the whole studio, stored on that one device, and if you sign in later we upload what you built, so long as the account is empty.
- Can I get my data out?
- Yes, and you never have to ask us. Any recipe exports as BeerJSON from its own menu, and Settings has a one-click export of the entire workspace. Deleting your account is type-to-confirm, and it erases everything we hold on the server.
- What is my password?
- You do not have one, on purpose. You sign in with a passkey, an emailed magic link or a Google account, so there is nothing for you to store or reset, and nothing for us to leak.
- Does it work in the garage?
- Every calculation runs on the device, so a dead connection does not stop a brew-day edit. Changes queue and sync when you are back online. It installs to your home screen and opens cold with no connection at all. The assistant, version history, new share links and signing in are the parts that need the network.
- Does it work on my phone?
- Yes, and it is built for one, not shrunk to fit. The editor’s side rail becomes a bar docked to the bottom, and brew day is a checklist sized for a tablet propped against the kettle. What you change in the basement is on the laptop upstairs.
- Is there a blending tool, or is that just a slogan?
- There is a whole blending session, and it is nobody’s afterthought. Pull in batches, set volumes, add fruit if you want, and we work out TA, pH, leftover-extract carbonation and the acid-shock starter on the beers you already logged. We built it for mixed-ferm, barrels, and the solera you have been meaning to write down.
- I make mead and cider too. Is this only for beer?
- No. Journals are for everything else that ferments. A journal is a page of notes, photos and measurements you build as you go, with the calculators a mead or a cider asks for: honey to gravity, the TOSNA nutrient schedule, sulfite by pH, sorbate by alcohol, acid adjustment and the Pearson square. Pin a hydrometer to it for a chart, attach it to a batch if it is a beer, and share it as a page that keeps up with you.
- What do I need the Beerwright plan for?
- Three: fermentation charts from a device, the full Insights page, and the feedback loop — tasting cards, the scoresheets people send back, and the assistant reading them. All three are gentle about it. A device that is already running keeps recording on any plan and every reading is kept; on Insights your brewhouse-efficiency trend stays live while the other six panels show sample data behind a lock; and a feedback link you have already handed out goes on collecting sheets whether or not you are subscribed, so nothing anyone sent you is lost. Everything else in the studio is on every plan except inviting co-brewers, which comes with either paid plan, and the rest of what a tier changes is the caps and the assistant allowance.
- Can I write a recipe with the person I brew with?
- Yes. Invite them from the recipe’s menu and you both edit the same recipe from your own accounts, seeing each other’s changes as they happen. Each of you can brew it on your own equipment without moving the other’s numbers, and whoever leaves keeps a copy. Inviting takes a paid plan; the people you invite need none, and a recipe shared with them never counts against their ten.
- I already paid for a year of Brewfather, BeerSmith or something else. Do I have to pay twice?
- No, and it does not matter which one. Any brewing subscription you have not finished counts. Send the receipt to hello@beerwright.com or through a support conversation, and we put your account on the Brewmaster plan until your old subscription would have expired, up to twelve months. There is no card and nothing to cancel; when the time runs out, you decide.
- Why “Beerwright”?
- A wright is someone who builds a thing by hand and knows why every part of it is shaped the way it is: shipwright, wheelwright, playwright. That is the job here, applied to beer. It is spelled -wright, not “write” or “right”.