Tuesday, 30 April 2019

BEER- Update

The tankard, in repose

As my regular readers will recall I undertook a unique brewing experience with my son. We brewed and bottled about 40 litres of a New Zealand IPA. I have patiently waited with a certain amount of trepidation as to the outcome. The beer, as instructed, was left in the garage to undergo secondary fermentation. Last Saturday marked three weeks after the bottling process and thus the beer was ready for consumption. 

The beer was placed in the fridge to cool. It is a common misconception that the English enjoy warm beer; this is not the case. After the cooling process, I carefully decanted a litre bottle of the beer into a jug. The frothy head and the heady aroma was reassuring. The beer was then poured into two awaiting bronze flagons embossed mightily with the family motto: 'Strength through pain'. With rising excitement, I placed the larger flagon to my lips and quaffed deep into the amber brew. My son watched on with quivering countenance. His bright blue eyes showed emotions unknown to man and he shook in sweet anticipation.

As the patriarchal head of the family (this is tautology) I reserved and exploited the privilege to take precedence in sampling the roiling brew. The cooling beer hit my tongue with force and unleashed a thousand furies each eliciting deep stabbing tones. Twas as if Shagger, the ferret, had partaken of a quart of sweet ambrosia and Angel tears and had then proceeded to lick my tongue. The Ale bespoke of bitter tannins and was surprisingly unbalanced morphing from tart to sweet as it meandered across the fissures of my trembling tongue. Delicate notes of citrus buttressed with soft elegant tendrils of aged pickled onions made their presence known. The beer was exquisite and I almost became overwhelmed in the presence and embrace of this seductive concoction. My son watched on barely able to contain his heaving and expectant breast. I gave the nod of access/assent and my son raised the brass vessel to his lips and drank heartedly. The gurgling sound seemed to last an eternity, but eventually, he placed the tankard down and gave forth an impressive and productive belch. The smile on his face matched mine. Nothing more was said as I filled our cups anew with the elixir of the gods.

The time passed, as if in a thrice, as we drank with accelerated gusto throughout the night. Nuff said.            


  1. If only your abode was within easy reach...

    1. Ted, tis but a plane ride away. I've put a couple of litres in the fridge for you- don't dally.