It’s been many decades since beer was last made here in our converted brewery home, although walking around the oldest part of the house, you can still see plenty of signs of what went on where. The Stoic Spouse made a token effort at authenticity last year when he bought an old wooden barrel to convert into a water butt, but we later discovered that it was actually a red wine barrel. Man, that barrel smelled good.
Anyway, sometimes a lass needs peace and quiet, so last weekend I sent the Stoic Spouse on a brewing course at a micro-brewery down in Brighton. He returned, listing slightly to the left and carrying a large container of brown sludgy liquid. The aforementioned sludge has taken up residence on our kitchen table, much to the bemusement of various visitors this week.
So the Stoic Spouse spent an evening sterilising components of this set-up so thoroughly that I began to wonder whether he was planning on feeding the beer to newborn babies.
For days, now, this beast has squatted on our kitchen table, burping occasionally (I kid you not). These belches are alarming in the dark at 4am when you’ve sneaked down to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Looking at this set-up reminded me of the micro-brewing that my parents did when I was small. They experimented with making onion wine… once. But apparently their blackberry wine and elderberry wine were considerably more palatable. Oh and talking of familial alcohol production (I’m clearly tapping a rich seam here), as a child my poor mum was in charge of gathering the nettles for my great grandfather’s famous nettle beer. Famous not so much for its taste, as for its propensity to ferment over-quickly and explode in the bottle. Oops. Here was his manual (published 1960):-
Inside, is the impression that pretty much anything organic can become wine:-
Oh and I do remember my grandfather giving my parents bottles of his wine made from onions, potatoes, and pretty much anything else that he’d grown in his marvellous vegetable patch. I’m quite glad that I was too young to sample those. Meanwhile, back to the sludge that’s fermenting in our kitchen:-
Purely for your edification, I’ll sample some of the Stoic Spouse’s beer, and report back. Maybe it’ll be suitable for making more beer bread, too. By the way, I’ve experimented with adding a little salt to the recipe, and my fears that this would kill off the lovely yeasty rising process proved unfounded. Yum!
Hmm, not much knitting or crochet in this post, is there? This may have something to do with the fact that an ambitious experiment involving seven DPNs got a little… messy.
Sue says
February 29, 2016 at 11:46 pmI have to know, which former brewery do you live in? I’m very curious, I know, but once upon a time I ran a pub with my parents!
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 12:08 pmIt was a very small brewery and actually, it’s been frustratingly hard to find out much detail about its history. (Forgive me for not quite naming it in public, but it is in south Oxfordshire.) Was your pub down this way?
Sue says
March 4, 2016 at 12:00 pmYes, in Abingdon (the first one), a Morlands pub. Later one in a village called Hampstead Norreys, also a Morlands pub.
dragontearsoflove says
March 1, 2016 at 6:27 amSounds like fun…though that belching thing would freak me out at 4AM as well(when I’m normally going to bed;-)). Hope you enjoy the beer bread. I’m making my boyfriend read this;-)
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 12:06 pmThe beer bread was indeed delicious. I recommend it to both you and your boyfriend!
Elaine Doman says
March 1, 2016 at 6:44 amThis brought back memories! My dad was a keen amateur brewer with mixed success. Exploding bottles were his speciality. Wine making, from pretty much anything but never onions as far as I can remember, was brought to an upright halt by mum when a Demi John overflowed in the wardrobe. No, I don’t know why it was in there. I’m fairly sure he had that book, the cover seems very familiar to me.
So he turned more to beer, progressing from kits to brewing in a baby burco boiler. The smell wafting across the village was legendary!
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 12:05 pmSounds as though he had fun, though? When the Demi Johns weren’t exploding beer all over your mum’s clothes. Did you ever get to taste the beer?
Elaine Doman says
March 2, 2016 at 6:35 amHe did have fun. And I certainly did get to taste it – anybody who came within 10 yards of the house got to taste it! Some of it wasn’t bad, actually. Hopefully the Stoic’s offering will be good. Sitting outside an old brewery with a glass of beer and some yarn sounds rather pleasant I think! Once the weather warms up, obviously. ?
stripeychicken says
March 1, 2016 at 6:54 amMy father had a wine making book by CJJ Berry. He was obviously the authority on the subject. Dad made wine from many things, pea pods, dandelions, spuds, elderberry, etc etc. this potent brew was dished out to visiting relatives who afterwards staggered out, got in their cars and drove away!! Yikes!
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 12:03 pmOh of course, dandelion wine! I wonder what that tastes like… (We certainly have plenty of dandelions.) But yes, yikes to the home-brewed drivers!
sjoriginalsblog says
March 1, 2016 at 8:03 amSEVEN DPNs!! Not surprised it got messy, what were you trying to knit? Perhaps you’ll permit me to mention that we knit/crochet/craft for pleasure and not as a means of self-inflicted torture 😉
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 11:34 amI know, I know. A mess, that was what I was knitting. Sigh. I’ll be sensible now. It was going to be a butterfly, but innocent knitters (including me) might have died of frustration in the process of making it. You’re right, this stuff is supposed to be fun. Lesson learned. My next pattern will be for a garter stitch square……..
jayne jarrett says
March 1, 2016 at 8:09 amThank you for this post my dear dad recently passed away and this brought back so many memories of his wine making and drinking ! His potato and parsnip were particularly potent. We had demi johns going in the spare room sometimes exploding to mums annoyance. Dad and his friend could hardly walk one time thinking they were only drinking home made and it would have no effect
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 11:32 amJayne, thank you for your comment but I’m sorry to read that you’ve lost your father recently. Sounds as though he was quite a wonderful character, from what you’ve written? Potato and parsnip, eh? I bet that packed a punch. Wishing you strength and happy memories at this time.
Gallivanta says
March 1, 2016 at 10:19 amA beery interesting post. 🙂
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 11:30 am*groan* Thank you! (hic!)
Gallivanta says
March 2, 2016 at 6:42 amI happily *groan* and hic with you!
nanacathy2 says
March 1, 2016 at 10:54 amFascinating read, but what I want to say is how much I love your kitchen. In the process of drawing up plans for a new kitchen myself and wondered what that light is above the fermenting sludge? Hope you don’t mind my asking. We made beer years ago, trouble was Mr E couldn’t resist drinking it too soon. My uncle made elderflower wine and it was gorgeous. Hope you got some peace and quiet.
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 11:28 amThank you. This is the advantage of buying a home from someone who was a carpenter specialising in kitchens…
That lamp is a Moroccan lamp with a candle inside, though I’m sure somebody more competent than I am could convert it to take an electric bulb. We have it suspended from a beam above the kitchen table and my goodness does it hurt when you stand up and bump your head on its sharp edge.
Hope your new kitchen plans are ambitious and splendid…
(Mmm, elderflower wine….)
Nope there wasn’t a great deal of peace and quiet, since I was here with the children. Ah well.
anjicat says
March 1, 2016 at 11:38 amEven the most dedicated Yarnivore must on occasion feed the body as well as the soul ? and having made ginger beer in my kitchen I know what those burps sound like in the wee small hours. Planning in trying your beer bread with spelt soon
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 12:23 pmInteresting. Spelt, you say? I might have to copy you. And is ginger beer tricky to make?
anjicat says
March 1, 2016 at 12:51 pmNot tricky but does require an investment of time. You begin with your Ginger Bug, grated ginger and sugar in water where your yeasty culture develops which you feed each day like a pet and in a couple of weeks you have a bubbly burpy culture to make your beer with. You use 1/4 to 1/2 a cup of your bug to make a 2 liter bottle of pop and it is very versatile, I did ginger pop, and using cartons of juice orange, apple, pineapple pops. The culture makes them probiotic as an added bonus. I’ll write up my notes
The Twisted Yarn says
March 1, 2016 at 1:32 pmOoh, I’m intrigued. Might have to try this some time. Sounds delicious.
narf77 says
March 1, 2016 at 7:14 pm“These belches are alarming in the dark at 4am when you’ve sneaked down to the kitchen for a glass of water.” (Methinks you just outed yourself OLD SCHOOL Nigella style Ms T! “glass of water” HAHAHAHA!) We seem to be living parallel lives as Stevie-boy is postulating about making beer and we are about to sit head-to-head with a real beer maker (from wort, like Stoic Spouse is obviously brewing) who is going to share the secrets of his craft with us. Hopefully he won’t have to kill us after telling us as that would prove most unfruitful. Loving the wider slant on life at The Brewery. Craft is only the tip of the iceburg with you Ms T. I am suitably impressed 🙂
pippa says
March 1, 2016 at 7:38 pmMy stoic spouse had a go at making beer once – but unfortunately the basement started to smell as if a panther had moved in. We called the beer Pete’s panther p..s
pomegranateandchintz says
March 1, 2016 at 10:12 pmSuch an interesting experiment you’ll be undertaking on our behalf – most grateful and can’t wait to hear the results!
leelah saachi says
March 27, 2016 at 2:42 pmHah, My father made his own home distillation apparatus and made his own 95% brew. Copper pipes and everything. he was very good with his hands. When he died I donated to a neighbor. It was VERY big and very illegal, and i don’t like liquor.
But i did made a miniature distillation apparatus when i was 15 to a boy I was in love with. I knew he liked to drink, so… It was very cute – I am very good with my hands too. He was impressed, but still rejected me
I like to buy my wine in my winestore, though. I tasted dandelion wine once and my mouth felt like stitched together in a big knot afterwards and then snurped. If that is a word.
The Twisted Yarn says
March 28, 2016 at 3:10 pmSnurped ought to be a word. Definitely. Was the dandelion wine home-made? I’d be curious to try… once. Think I’ll stick to wine made from grapes in the meantime. My grandfather used to make wine from all sorts of things (including onions and potatoes). Fortunately I was too young to be put under any pressure to drink it!
And I like the sound of your father’s distillation apparatus, although I’m SLIGHTLY scared at the idea of 95% proof alcohol! Glad you inherited his skill with hands: I hope the boy thoroughly appreciated the distillation apparatus that you made for him, even if it didn’t win his heart.