I sit now, cheese toastie lying temptingly beside me and a fermentation vessel, loaded with a treacly sweet smelling liquid, sitting conspicuously in the corner of the room. I have begun to brew my first ever batch of beer: moved on from sourdough (SO lockdown one) to the harder stuff. Still involving yeast but this time a lot less infantile--my sourdough pet starter was very needy and ultimately ineffective, resulting in a distinctly flat loaf. I was, for a few wonderful hours, transported back to chemistry class of 12' as I dunked my hydrometer into the wort and, carefully avoiding the tricksy meniscus attempting to lead me down a false path, read its gravity .This will be important for future groggy mornings, serving as a sort of post-mortem, also known as the alcohol percentage.
The reality of this chemistry kitchen is a lot more slap dash than it may sound--jargon hides a multitude of brewing sins. The proof, as they say, will be in the pint. It may be ready in time for Valentines day. On that day, a second gravity shall be read, bottling will be blew and there might be some just for you (as long as there is not a lockdown two). I'm nothing if not romantic.
Brewing sins aside, I was entirely saintly in my other daily duties. I put out the bins, I ate my daily bread (a takeaway sandwich kinda date) and I emailed a whole choir of chosen ones.
I shall take the crumby remains of a toastie as leave. This blog may be replete but my stomach is not.
xoxo easy cheesy
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