British Brewer

Recreating the perfect British Pint

15 December
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Hypnotic

I must confess to sometimes just going down into the cellar and stare at the magical dance being performed inside the carboys during the peak of primary fermentation.  The sugars and yeasts seem to dance around the fermenter in synchronized motion or just explode like fireworks.

Today is a cloudy, cold, wet, New England day (sounds very British like) so I went  down to the cellar to check on the progress of my brews and found myself again just staring at the fermenters.  So I went upstairs, got my Flip Camcorder (love these things, so easy to use and a snap to publish, all the software is actually on the camera) and recorded some snippets. Enjoy –

Here is a poem about ale I have kept with me through the years, the 3rd verse seemed apt right now. Its by W. H. Davies, a Welsh poet who lived in the late 1800’s through the outbreak of the 2nd World War in 1940. More here.

Ale by William Henry Davies

Now do I hear thee weep and groan,
Who hath a comrade sunk at sea?
Then quaff thee of my good old ale,
And it will raise him up for the
Thoul’t think as little of him then
As when he moved with living men.

If thou hast hopes to move the world,
And every effort it doth fail,
Then to thy side call Jack and Jim,
And bid them drink with thee good ale;
So may the world, that would not hear,
Perish in hell with all your care.

One quart of good ale, and I
Feel then what life immortal is:
The brain is empty of all thought,
The heart is brimming o’er with bliss;
Time’s first child, Life, doth live; but Death,
The second, hath not yet his breath.

Give me a quart of good old ale,
Am I a homeless man on earth?
Nay, I want not your roof and quilt,
I’ll lie warm at the moon’s cold hearth;
No grumbling ghost to grudge my bed,
His grave, ha! ha! holds up my head.

==

More fermentation videos…

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01 December
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