This is not just water with a hint of paraquat
A social occasion beckons this weekend where home-made wine has been threatened. I have given a pre-emptive shudder at the thought. Home-made is good for only two things, cakes and porn. In everything else shop-bought triumphs.
I know, however, that I am weak and eager to please and so when handed a goblet of something with nettles floating in it, am likely to accept. At least I will if I’ve been drinking.
Why do people persist in home brewing? It can’t simply be price. Do they really think that their dustbin full of fermenting fluid hidden under the stairs is going to out-shine the work of serious, bearded men in breweries? I suppose when it comes down to it it’s the chance that, year, it just might, that causes the pico-brewers of the land to strive, strive, strive for excellence. That and the chance of tripling the sugar content so as to push the ABV through the roof.
I know, however, that I am weak and eager to please and so when handed a goblet of something with nettles floating in it, am likely to accept. At least I will if I’ve been drinking.
Why do people persist in home brewing? It can’t simply be price. Do they really think that their dustbin full of fermenting fluid hidden under the stairs is going to out-shine the work of serious, bearded men in breweries? I suppose when it comes down to it it’s the chance that, year, it just might, that causes the pico-brewers of the land to strive, strive, strive for excellence. That and the chance of tripling the sugar content so as to push the ABV through the roof.
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