I believe that something I can make for myself just tastes sweeter. At least I hope the batch of beer that we brewed up today tastes sweet a month from now when it is ready. It is the second batch I've made. It will contain apricot, honey, and a whole lot of gummy sticky malt.
It was a delightfully brisk day, gorgeous blue sky overhead, and the scent of brewing hops and bitters blended perfectly with the perfume of flowering trees.
As the wort cooled in the fermenting bucket, Meredith and I headed out for a 3 mile jog down Market St. We crossed the bridge over the river, the water flowing west beneath our feet and the wind blowing east whipping up little whitecaps where the water danced over stones in the riverbed.
All that malt added up to a specific gravity of 1.040 worth of delectable sugar just waiting for the yeast to feast on it.
With a sprinkling of yeast across the surface of the wort, it was transformed to beer.
I sealed the bucket, and tucked it into the space at the bottom of the closet where it will live and grow in darkness for the next month. I plan on being here in a month to reap the rewards of the effort. And that is why beer is the root of civilization. It takes time, love and staying put in one place to extract something rewarding from grains. It was enough to make hunter-gatherers settle down. Much appreciation to Damon for getting me on this path to civilization.