24 Jun 2011
Need a Six-Pack? Hit the Basement

Brewing is a massively popular hobby among Heathens - I can think of very few of us who have not, at one time or another, tried our hand at brewing beer or making mead. I myself once jumped in ...

If I recall correctly, it was 1995. I decided to try my hand at mead making, and dredged up a high school memory of using honey and water with bread yeast to make a quasi-alcoholic brew in science class. I had fond memories of that class, and tossing all advice to the wind, proceeded to reproduce the stuff as best as I was able. I carefully made up about 5 gallons, stopping the process when the hydrometer indicated about 10% alcohol. I bottled it up and let it age for a few months, never tasting it. At Midsummer, I brought it out and presented it to the kin.

It was, in a word, wretched. The bouquet was faintly reminiscent of old sweat socks, and it had a flavor to match. I don't think anybody could finish their bottle - many "libations" were poured that evening, though I doubt a single one was dedicated to the Shining Gods and Goddesses...

It did have one good effect - it prompted the kin to begin to bring copious quantities of their own meads and ales to blot. I was the godhi at the time, and it was technically my responsibility to supply the alcohol. I think my kinsfolk were afraid I'd inflict more of my homebrew on them, so they kept the kindred well supplied indeed. "The Godhi's Own Mead" had become more of a threat than a beverage!

In 1997, when I was preparing to move to Minnesota, I discovered the remainder of my experiments in a cabinet over the stove. I certainly didn't want to drag that rotgut 600 miles, so I pulled the bottles down, opened one and began pouring it down the sink, planning on giving the empty bottles to my kinsfolk who really could brew.

But the stuff was bubbly. And it smelled wonderful! With no little trepidation, I poured some into a glass and took a taste. It was wonderful! Almost a "champagne mead"! I was flabbergasted.

Trothmoot was coming up, and I took a couple of bottles and entered them in the mead brewing competition. If I recall correctly, I finished second, with many comments on what an unusual beverage I'd concocted. And no little disbelief when I told the tale of it's making. But I was thoroughly pleased with myself, and felt redeemed. The rest of the batch made the trip to the north with me.

And got poured down the drain the following year, when I offered some up to another kindred, only to discover that my prize winning brew had reverted to musty sweat socks and stinking cheese flavored juice! I haven't brewed since...

Maybe I should give it another try, with real brewers yeast this time. But then I taste some of the products that my kinsmen produce, and resolve to stick to shepherding and coding, lest I prove my "rank" amateur status once again.

Tim Artz's brewery is enclosed by glass walls on three sides and looks out onto a bluff of apple trees and a garden filled with beans, squash and 35 varieties of pepper. On a raw April morning, the brewery doors were open but the brewery itself was warm; the gas burner below the 30-gallon brew tank was cranking at near full power.

(link) [NY Times]

22:53 /Asatru | 0 comments | permanent link