beerTuesday, April 19, 2005
The beer debuted. Two days ago. Sunday evening. Obviously I am not carried away with enthusiasm over the product. Obviously I would prefer I had never said to Molly and Rick "Gee I'd like to make beer. Why don't you give me that for Christmas?" Obviously I need a new career.
Perhaps the venue was ill-chosen. It was a dinner party hosted by a wine auctioneer. A cohort was also a guest. How brave of me. How insensible. How kind was my hostess who poured the one bottle I had brought to share into her elegant crystal glasses. In front of us all. It looked like beer. It poured like beer. What it didn't, was foam. No bubbles. Obviously fermentation was not on its agenda all these many weeks. WHAT WERE YOU DOING IN THERE AS I SHOWERED ALL MY LOVE AND CONCERN ON YOU? DIDN'T YOU KNOW YOU WERE BEER?
'Scuse me; I am a little distraut.
How kind was my hostess and her cohort who swilled the liquid around and commented on its color and it aroma, who sipped it delicately and nodded. And who drank down the glass, if not with gusto, with interest. Except one guest who shall remain in my high esteem if only for other pleasing attributes.
I have five more bottles of beer on my wall.
Friday, April 15, 2005
A day late, I know. But I was busy with my income tax. Now I need that beer. Gin will do (I see a new project coming into focus). So today, rather than yesterday, is the great moving day. I will remember this day forever -- not for the day the beer went on ice, but for other reasons and I will make them up later when I attempt to accept the fact that this was all for naught. I am preparing myself for disaster. Either I blow up, or am poisened, or disappear in a great cloud of malty vapor.Thursday, April 14, 2005
The box has sat at my kitchen doorway for a week and a half. I have stepped around it carefully for a week and a half, nodding to it respectfully each time I pass its mass, knowing that inside was a developing product as unique to me as the children I created. I seemed to have had more control over their development. I could eat nourishing proteins to build their sturdy bodies before they were born and could send them scowling looks that redirected their behavior after. I could lead them into experiences that would brighten their intellects or emotions. I could hug them and kiss them and teach them love. With those six bottles contained therein I do nothing but glance occasionally at the white bulk that contains them. Yesterday, I tripped over it and cursed it. I guess I have done that with children too.
Today they come out of hiding and go into the cold. Tomorrow, properly chilled, they will be consumed. Seven weeks of anticipation ending in a burp. Or maybe not
Saturday, April 9. 2005
I am becoming blind to the white styrofoam box at my kitchen door. Never notice it at all, not even when I bump it with my shin and curse under my breath, or out loud, depending how direct is the hit. I am not even counting the days when I can look inside to see six shiney bottles, intact and ready for refridgeration. I don't even know what day that is supposed to happen, I am so unaware of it. I am not even going to look on my calendar. I am sure the date is written there. If not there, somewhere. Who knows? Who cares?
I AM GOING CRAZY.
Wednesday, April 6, 2005
Anticipation. Anticipation -- is making me -- what does it make me? Mad, yes mad. Those six little bottles entombed in a styrofoam picnic basket at my kitchen doorway -- is that throbbing I hear in side? Or is that my heart? Are they frightened, all alone in the dark, no more my encouraging caresses? Are they glad to be rid of me and my insistant queries ? I fight the urge to beat on the top of the box yelling "tell me, tell me, what are you doing in there?" I will know soon enough. Nothing. I will know that soon enough.
Monday, April 4, 2005
The beer goes into the dark today. I don't know what it is supposed to do in the dark but I hope it does it well. This is its last chance to become all that it can be. I wish it well. Since I have been in the dark most of my life, I have great confidence in its development there. No I really don't have any confidence in any part of this process, but I am of the belief that thinking makes it so. I have no experience to back up that theory but the worst that can happen here is I have six bottles of beer that may poisen me. And I certainly don't want to think that.
Sunday, March 27,2005
It is Easter Sunday. I am ready for my beer. My beer is not ready for me. Miscalculation. Been through that before.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
I am ignoring my beer. The bottles are intact. They are supposed to become firmer, but I am not checking them. I would be afraid if they were and disappointed if they weren't.
Sunday, March 20,2005
The rubber hits the road today. My beer went into bottles. Looks like beer. Smells like beer. Hope it acts like beer. The whole house has the aroma of a brewery. I had some extra fluid in the cannister and was swishing around a water and soap mixture to clean it out and dropped it on the kitchen floor where it covered a quarter of the room. Now I have beer soaked towels and beer soaked sox to add to the atmosphere. This will not be my fourth career.
But the beer sits in the corner of my kitchen, tightly capped, fermenting its little heart out, I hope.
Monday, March 14, 2005
I am in a real dilemma -- my beer is scheduled to be bottled tomorrow morning. I am scheduled to fly to Arkansas tomorrow morning. If I bottle the beer and it explodes, who will sit over it and mourn? Much less minimize the damage. If I don't bottle the beer, what will it be doing while I am gone? I am opting for the latter. When it is all together, as it has been these last weeks, it seems to be less likely to be rowdy. I wish it had been a little more rowdy. It is the quietest beer I have ever seen.
Sunday, March 12, 2005
The fluid is intact. Smelly but intact. Today I went to the next stage and added a geletin. Knowing what goes into beer, I am not sure I will ever drink the stuff again. It is still dark brown, still not looking very alive but I will stick with it and the instruction book to the end.
Saturday, March 11, 2005
I woke up this morning smelling beer. Kind of like the smell of a neighborhood bar early in the evening before the people smells contaminate the air. Beer. My beer! I was thrilled until the thought occurred to me that this smell might not be the harbinger of good news. Either the beer was beginning to actually be beer. Or it had exploded all over my kitchen floor, possible dripping down into the kitchen of my 16th floor neighbor. I really hesitated getting out of bed.
Tuesday, March 8, 2005
I haven't looked at the liquid today or yesterday. Sunday I added an element that was to cause it to ferment and bubble additionally. I don't know if that is what it is doing. In my heart I know it isn't.
Sarturday, March 5,2005
Tomorrow I go to stage II and I either make mud or beer.
Friday, March 4, 2005
I said I wouldn't but I did. I peeked at my beer and it looks less lively than when I tucked it away in the kitchen. I am not happy.
Thursday, March 3, 2005
I am ignoring my beer. It sits tucked away in a dark corner of my kitchen. I am treating it much like I treated my children as they were growing into adolescent years. Only I tucked myself away in a dark corner and let them ferment as they were wont to do. They turned out mellow and refreshing. I hope my beer does as well
Wednesday, March 2, 2005
I must have fried my beer. The instruction book sez bubbling should begin within 12 to 24 hours and continue for 5 to 7 days. It did the former but is not continuing. The beer was sitting in the sun, I notice today, and has every morning for about an hour while the light moves from south to north over my room. The book also sez to place it where it will be undisturbed. I disturbed it this morning, sloshing it back and forth as I moved it to a darkened corner of my kitchen. I don't feel very positive about this adventure.
Tuesday, March 1, 2005
Oops. I think I am in trouble. My beer bubbles have flattened out and my concoction is beginning to look a little like sewage.
Monday, February 28, 2005
I and my beer are still here. How proud I am. The beer has developed a half inch head of tawny foam.
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Something new is brewing. I am off on a new kick. I am brewing beer. I have low expectations and want to chart my journey so I will remember each disastrous step. (Am I shooting too low?)
Did all the washing and sterilizing, reminding me of the days in New Orleans when we needed to mix baby formula and boil it for too long. That often exploded ending up on the kitchen ceiling. Will this be the same? Did all the smashing and mixing and boiling. Followed the instructions to the letter. It is all together now, sitting on a chair in my warmest room (my write room where I watch it as I type). It is supposed to begin bubbling. I think it is doing that. Is there a god of beer that I can beg to watch over me?
