Some things just are not meant to be.
The homebrew is one of these. I started brewing a few years ago after reading a book called Booze for Free. My first one was a mixture of water, sugar, yeast and marmite. The book was a first edition, and contained a printing error, causing me to put twice as much sugar in as was needed. 2kg instead of 2lb or something. This actually turned out beautifully. It turned into something not unlike a sherry. The marmite was still recognisable, but transformed into something less intense. It was potent and flavoursome, if a bit sickly. My next effort involved cartons of fruit juice. This too came out well. A bottle of it went down really well at a party I took it to.
Since then though, nothing has worked as well. It all tasted pretty foul, truth be told, but it got me drunk, which was the main reason I was doing it.
To stop myself from just necking it as soon as it stopped bubbling, I took some demijohns full of fermenting vileness to my stepson's house, and left them there to mature. Over the months ahead, I would sporadically take one of them back, and imbibe the contents. I brought the last one back about a week or so ago.
So did they mellow with age? Go from a young, sharp shudder inducing liquid to a smooth, mature tipple?
No. They didn't. They're just a foul, if not fouler. Half way through that last demijohn, I realised what it reminded me of. White lightning cider, that's what. Back when I had no money and a seriously dissolute lifestyle, I would sometimes buy a couple of litres of that cheap, chemical, toxic cider. The most bang for the buck. After the first litre, the second (and sometimes third if I didn't pass out) went down a little easier. But it was just a rather unpleasant means to an end, like sticking your hand into an ordure filled toilet to retrieve a dropped wedding ring.
So that's enough of that. No more. If I want to get plastered, I shall go out and buy some proper booze.
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