Monday, March 21, 2011

A novel idea (one of many)

A boxy, light blue 1968 Datsun coasted to a stop on a shoulder-less gravel road, extinguished its headlamps and was immediately swallowed by the darkness. Two twelve gage shotguns were removed from the trunk; one to be carried over the shoulder, the other at arm's length, but remain pointed at the sky and the woods for safety. The two boys walked, marched, raced and then walked again rationalizing known and unknown dangers. The warm summer's night was filled with the aromas of pine and birch, and produced swells of cool air, which fanned their faces and seeped through their cotton work shirts. Overhead the rustling of leaves muffled the scattering and crunching of pebbles under foot. Anxious, often-beaming faces were not seen but were known by the lack of conversation.

For several minutes total darkness forced them to follow a preconceived direction. Then ahead on the road loomed a light growing in size and intensity. This marker quickened their pace. But just as it was within their grasp, they stepped from the roadway into a shallow depression then burst onto an open pasture studded with the silhouettes of dusk's after-burn. Haunting images sustained by the glowing resolution of a full moon.

On their left lay the ruins of an early farm. Grassy knolls festering around a large open stone wound; maybe the foundation of an early barn. Feet were placed in the grass covered truck track that ran past the bare bones of what might have been a log cabin. This passage through the ruins led to a break in a nearly submerged stone fence. Here a solitary wild apple tree stood sentry. The moonlit trek continued in a sweeping arc across the adjacent field to a wooden gate; the entrance to a wire fenced compound and fifty beehives. Earlier that afternoon a tall, menacing, sleek black bull with a chain hanging hanging from his nose had stood in the distance watching these boys as they drove to the gate in a two-ton truck.

They didn't have the safety of a truck cab now.

"He isn't here ... I hope," says Harry.

"Can't see him," replies John. "Doesn't mean he isn't there," He takes a look around to improve the drama. "Campbell said, he would to take him home tonight... a lot of bull.

Acknowledgement of this feeble attempt at humour was to change the topic, quickly.

"Let's get there... I don't see it," Harry was looking around, then straight up. "Oh shit do we have to....."

That afternoon the boys had build a platform high in a Dutch elm tree, higher than Harry liked. Climbing to this altar with shot guns in the dark was going to test of their abilities and youth. John was juiced: Harry was bouncing. Preparation had been made. It was time for the final act.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Great expectations or what the Dickens

Tis the best of times and the worst of times. Ho-hum, I don't think March will ever end.

There has been one major melt followed by a half-a-foot of snow and it didn't melt, right away...probably all very normal, but very depressing. T'is time to build more bee equipment for the coming season. Lids, bottoms, supers frames a virtual smor-gus-borg for a rough carpenter.

And we pound, pound, pound, pound...bang, bang, bang, bang all the live-long day. Did some one say sun or son? They must be discussing Easter, after all it is still March..still March.

Sometimes there is just times and they will pass. Next time spring will be here.

Monday, January 31, 2011

The final word on mead

I have sang the praises of mead making and experimented with drinking new mead and frankly... enough is enough. Mead is great but you can only drink so much before putting the clear liquid back on the shelf to admire the label.

A lot of what is good about mead is making and talking about it. I read numerous blogs and web sites telling me to wait. Put your bottles away for six months to two years then drink it. I think this is probably good advice. It is setting the stage for another event, something to anticipate, something to talk about.

I can see how this mead tasting with time could become an in-house contest between batches, between years, source honeys used, mead makers... the possibilities could be endless. I think I'm getting into this wine making . Maybe it is like sports 'you have to talk the game and remember the stats'.

What about the new wine or mead taken in a stage of fermentation for a fruity zingy taste...old news from my last blog. I don't drink fast enough or hold enough parties to consume the stuff... and it is getting tart. It wasn't filtered to the same extent and it was put in a plastic bottle so explosion could be controlled Unlike its cousins who are clear and living in shiny bottles with eloquent labels the new mead is looking rather amaturish. The conversation has come to an end, but it will be tried again, and probably in sequence after great of batches of mead have been made.

I have had all the mead I need for a while......so next time new topic.

Friday, January 14, 2011

new wine/ new mead

Some people talk to their hair dressers, friends, dealers, proveyors of porn, I talk to my bee equipment supplier. Not only is he knowledgeable about bees; he has a history of producing honey wines. This was my first year making mead.

My second batch was a little tart compared to the first. The add-on of more honey and yeast may have caused a champagne effect in the second batch. The wine guy at the wine store told me this.

The first batch had fermented for three to four weeks when it twigged my curiosity so an early sampling of the musk was made. It was delicious, unique and prompted more tasting and mead to be made. The first batch was racked and a week later filtered, then it was bottled.... and it disappeared. Early wine or musk is zingier and sweeter according to my friend the bee supplier.

He tells me that in Germany and France tourist resorts serve their guests what is termed "New Wine" or "neuer wein" (German). This wine is not quite wine yet, it is in a stage of fermentation. It is sweet, fruity and popular. It is served with traditional meals, like weiner schnitel and potato pancakes etc. This is grape wine he is talking about. The alcohol could vary; however, the majority of alcohol seems to be produced in the first few weeks. I don't really know

I'm a mead maker. My friend the bee supplier says when the mead mulch starts to clear you are making wine. This is when it gets tart and white foam may form on the top of the wine. In Germany this stage is called white feather.

It was that zingy, fruity taste, I wanted. So I headed to the make-shift wine cellar for a taste. After three weeks the fifth batch was still slowly bubbling. I siphoned off a glass. Wow...that zinging sweet fruity taste was there...what a buzz.

This is going to be bottled and served right away... It is young wine, still changing, I have no doubt. Maybe a bottle will get old... but I doubt it. I read blogs from Europe telling me of new wine in plastic bottles, soaking the groceries. Plastic bottles are used to avoid exploding glass bottles. I think this is a good idea. I suspect there is a safe stage for new wine consumption...I'll find out.

My supplier tells me of another aspect of new wine sampling at German resorts. The inhibriation lessens the inhibitions to enjoy naked co-ed saunas.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

mead, like bees, is not for everyone

People either love them or hate them. Some people want to give them names...others ignore their sex and say  "he did this" and "he did that." Love them or hate them they're only honey bees. To the ancients they were a source of alcohol and a relief from being ancient.

Today we have 40 proof Black Velvet, more beer than Fred and the boys could drink in several lifetimes and more vintages of grape wine of ethnic origins and type than even the wine store can keep up with. But it is hard to find a fine mead and maybe even harder to find a drinker who appreciates one. Friar Tuck in the latest rendition of Robin Hood questions the characters whether they have tried the honey wine called mead....but by the time Russel Crowe gets to drinking it is mixed with barley brew.

I have been keeping bees all my life....Maybe even before I was born...My father was a beekeeper... Last year was the first time I made mead. It was a success and the first batch had trouble hanging around long enough to get into bottles.  It was potent and delicious. The second batch was potent to the point of ruining the taste (a Champagne, if you will).

People tried the mead and loved it and hated it. Doesn't matter....it takes all kinds to make the world go round....and round....and round......mmmmmmmmm....mead.

Are you starting to feel a buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... As Tuck says I look after the bees and the bees look after me.