I knew nothing of the hobby until a friend and co-worker of mine introduced the idea. Of all places, I think the inspiration came from an episode of The Simpsons. Have you ever seen the one where Homer tries to make bathtub beer? Needless to say I wasn’t immediately sold on the idea but decided to give it a shot. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?

At first it almost felt like we were wading into illegal territory. A run to a local brew shop just blocks from the Arizona State University campus made it seem even more lascivious. I undeniably enjoyed drinking alcohol so the prospect of creating it with my own two hands seemed pretty damn amazing. An hour or so later, the friendly brewer had helped us assemble a kit complete with everything we needed to brew our first batch of beer.

The process proved to be nothing short of great mystery and intrigue. Were we following the instructions right? Did we put the hops in at the right time? Did we aerate the wort enough? Was it the right temperature before we pitched the yeast? Was everything sanitized properly? We’d have to wait a long four weeks before getting it into bottles and then another couple weeks beyond that before we could relish our first taste of that liquid bread we’d toiled over what seemed like ages ago.

As it turns out, our first batch was a hit and then I guess you could say we had both been officially bitten by the brew bug. Like a religious ritual, every four to six weeks we gathered around a stainless steel brew pot and assembled the next beer of the month while sipping down a few cold ones from the previous batch. This tradition carried on for a handful of years until life took my brew buddy and me in two different directions. Since it was a 50/50 investment, we opted to split the brew setup down the middle. Half going with me and half going with my brew buddy made the split seem like an awkward breakup, deflating the sails of this once jovial pastime.

I packed my apartment with Homestead Hottie and made the long trek up the mountain to Flagstaff, Arizona where we planned to launch a new chapter of our lives together. Talina must have sensed my depression creeping in over the loss of my hobby because that Christmas she bought me everything I needed to complete the one half of the brew rig I painfully hauled up to the high country.

Flagstaff had a pretty exciting craft brew scene cooking along with a well-stocked homebrew shop, something I have now come to realize was pretty remarkable for a town of just 50,000 people (most of them crunchy in some sort of way). I brewed off and on and even found a new friend and co-worker that was also into homebrewing. Sometimes, having a brew buddy is just the perfect motivation to punching out some extra energy and getting a batch made. It also helps when several of your friends and coworkers really seem to enjoy chugging down the fruits of your labor. I was in a brewing groove for our 5 years in Flagstaff but when it came time to pack the brew rig up again, I was feeling defeated again.

Our nomadic lifestyle took Homestead Hottie and I to where we still are today: southwestern Indiana. The last three years has proved busy without a doubt and felt like we’ve been moving at warp speed ever since our vintage RV limped us on into town. A new job, the birth of our first child, a layoff, another new job and then the birth of our second child last August seemed to all happen in a flash. The powder keg of life just happens and then you get over it.

Needless to say I haven’t had much time to brew, let alone the toddler-free space to tuck a 5-gallon glass jug full of fermenting beer away for a few weeks. Thanks to the gift of another batch of brew ingredients from Talina, I’m finally jumping back on the brew horse again. I’m breaking myself in with an Irish Red Ale kit and am once again sweating the small stuff while I wait. Was my yeast alive when it pitched? Was the fermentation enough even though it seemed dead? Was the wort exposed to too much oxygen?

I just finished racking my Irish Red Ale over to the secondary fermenter and will bottle in another two weeks. Only then will I know for sure if I’m going to be able to fully get my brew mojo back and ferment some wicked ales. Time to sip a cold one and wait.

My dandelion wine experiment began last year. Seeing fields of yellow, perky dandelion blossoms painted through the grass left me wondering what could be done with the pervasive “weed” that leaves many lawn enthusiasts seeing red. Using the greens for a salad is a popular notion but you have to catch dandelions before they bloom, otherwise the leaves turn horribly bitter to our sensitive human palette. Vintage wine books however paint tantalizing imagery of a sweet and wild wine that trickles down your gullet and warms the depths of your belly with the sunshine captured by perky petals. Who wouldn’t want to lap that luscious sounding sun juice?

Last year my Darling Daughter and I spent the better part of an hour in a nearby field on our hands and knees. It’s hard work plucking a gallon of petite, sticky flower heads dotting the field grass. Some issue or another prompted me to delay the process of getting the wine started so I stuck the gallon container of flower heads into the fridge. By the time I went to work on them the next day, those darned dandelions had all clamped shut. They looked like a pack of clams with their mouths firmly sealed. Those flowers made it into the trash since they were no longer fresh and it would just take an inane amount of time to pry them open and pluck their petals. That was the last attempt of 2010.

Kicking off spring 2011, we’ve had rain storms measuring feet instead of inches of rain and the resulting carpet of dandelions was magnificent. Silver dollar sized, fuzzy lion heads bobbed and swayed through most grass patches up to just a week or so ago. Before our first official mowing of the year, Homestead Hottie, Darling Daughter and I grabbed a bucket and started plucking. From the front to the back (can you handle that?), we managed to pick 6 quarts of dandelions.

The recipe I used was from a vintage dime store paperback titled “Successful Wine Making at Home: How to make your own wine and liqueurs,” by H.E. Bravery. I only share the recipe so you can look at the process yourself, not because I endorse trying it out!

Ingredients:
- 1 gallon flower heads without the tiniest piece of stalk
- 3 lbs. sugar
- 1 oz. yeast
- 1 gallon water
- 2 lemons

1) Pull out the petals by gathering them between your fingers whilst holding the base of the flower head. Put the petals in the fermenting vessel and pour on 3 quarts of boiling water, covered tightly and left to soak for 7 days.

2) Stir daily and cover at once

3) Strain and wring out fairly tightly and return the liquor to the fermenting vessel. Boil half the sugar in a pint of water and when cool add to the liquor. Then add the yeast and juice of 2 lemons. Cover and ferment for 7 days.

4) Pour carefully into a gallon jar leaving behind as much deposit as you can. Boil the rest of the sugar in a pint of water and when cool, add to your liquor. Fit fermentation lock until all fermentation has ceased.

More than an hour's worth of work went into pulling out the dandelion petals and discarding the flower heads, seen in a pile on the right. It's not a fast process and I was hoping the payoff would be sweet.

I dutifully followed the directions to get this “nectar” going including taking sanitary precautions and sterilizing the equipment coming in contact with this wine. By day three though, the vile brew was putting off an aroma that indicated to this brewer’s nose it had gone sour. I was ready to pitch it at that point but Homestead Hottie urged me to let it run its course before dumping all our hard, dandelion pickin’ work down the drain. When it came time to pitch in the first batch of sugar the stench was overwhelming and one whiff was enough to send your stomach convulsing. Talina even likened it to the sickening and so hard to forget stench of one of our high school math teacher’s breath.

Needless to say my “mighty fine” dandelion wine found its way straight into the garbage disposal. It’s disappointing but I’d rather it be that instead of getting violently ill, like the time I drank Dogfish Head’s Red & White (that’s a completely different story though).

I reviewed more than two dozen other dandelion wine recipes and all are pretty similar to this vintage recipe. Most only let the dandelion petals ferment for three days instead of 7, but remember, my wine was spoiled by day 3 anyway. I think my fermenting location was way too warm and I think there was obviously some “nasty” that made it through the boiling water infusion. I think if I try this again, I might trying actually boiling the dandelion petals for a couple of minutes before pitching the whole pot into the fermentation vessel. This longer exposure to boiling water would kill off even more bacteria, especially on a plant that hugs the ground and comes into contact with who knows what!

Have you tried making dandelion wine? What has your experience been like? Please share!

The neighborhood I grew up in used to be a grapefruit grove. So consequently at the high point of my childhood home we had 12 grapefruit trees surrounding us. It was a daunting task trying to figure out what to do with so much fruit. As a kid I used to sell brown paper bags full of grapefruit for $5.00 and the best days to sell were days when you knew there were a lot of tourists in town (Fiesta Bowl, Super Bowl, Parada del Sol, etc.)

We definitely couldn’t eat the fruit of 12 trees and there wasn’t much inspiration surrounding grapefruit either. Sure we would end up eating a few as a “breakfast treat” or at least that’s what my dad would try and convince us of the supremely sour fruit. I do miss the intoxicating scent of all the citrus blossoms in the spring though and the sight of hundreds of bright fruits adorning trees in your own yard. Now that I’m older, I do have to say that I’m a fan of citrus and miss the plethora of the harvest sometimes. And, since I’m on my quest for sustainability I’ve also discovered a lot of different uses for the warm weather fruit.

The December issue of Sunset magazine had a great recipe for homemade Rosemary Limoncello. Limoncello is an intensely flavored liqueur typically served as an after dinner drink on Italy’s Amalfi Coast and adjoining Sorrento Peninsula. This is the perfect time of the year to make this homemade liqueur in the desert southwest because of the availability of lemons. If you don’t happen to have good access to lemons in your neck of the woods, you can order direct from some citrus orchards out here. The recipe recommends using Meyer lemons because of their fragrance. But you can also achieve excellent results using Eureka lemons. A local Arizona citrus orchard is McClendon’s Select. The Limoneira Orchard in Southern California offers Meyer lemons through their mail order business. Ojai Citrus also does mail order with mixed boxes containing a variety of citrus choices. You could also get a nice variety of swing-top glass bottles to put your limoncello in for giving out to friends and family once it’s matured. To me, it sounds like a great and different way to enjoy this year’s citrus harvest. If you have a favorite recipe using the refreshing flavors of citrus, let us know about it!

Rosemary Limoncello

Courtesy: Sunset Magazine, December 2007 edition

You will need:

18 lemons (washed and dried)

one 4-inch rosemary sprig (washed and dried)

2 bottles of 100 proof vodka (750ml bottles of Stoli or Smirnoff)

4 1/2 cups sugar

1) Peel lemons with a sharp vegetable peeler, taking only the zest (top layer) and avoiding any white pith. Put rosemary in a 1 gallon glass or ceramic container with a tight seal. Add zest to jar.

2) Pour 750ml. vodka over rosemary and zest; seal container. Let sit undisturbed in a cool dark place for about 40-days.

3) On 40th day, in a saucepan, bring 5 cups of water to a boil and add sugar. Cook, stirring, until sugar has dissolved. Let sugar syrup cool to room temperature, about 1 hour.

4) Pour syrup and remaining 750ml. vodka over lemon-vodka mixture, stir and seal container. Let sit in a cool, dark place for another 40 days.

5) Pour limoncello through cheesecloth into a large spouted pitcher and divide among gift bottles. Limoncello will keep indefinitely in the freezer. Recipe makes 10 2/3 cups and will fill ten 8.5 oz. bottles.

1)  Dom. de Montbourgeau Cremant du Jura – $21.99 Hand-harvested grapes come from an eight-hectare farm run by the founder’s granddaughter.

2)  Avinyo Cava Rosado - $25.99 Four small organic farms supply the winery; the winemaker consults a 300-year-old book for farming tips.

3) Foreau Vouvray Brut – $26.99 12-hectare farm managed organically; yields intentionally held down to privilege quality over quantity.

4) François Pinon Vouvray Petillant Brut - $20.99 Supplied by 14 hectares of organically managed land, with a variety of microclimates and soil types.

Are you looking for a quick, homemade hostess gift to whip up for a New Year’s party you might be headed to?  Read my post on Homemade Liquers and Cordials.  They would make a tasty option.

I cup plain or vanilla yogurt

1 banana, cut up

2 Tbsp. honey

2 tsp. vanilla extract

1 egg

Place all the ingredients into a blender and process for 20 seconds or until smooth.  Yum!  The recipe makes 2 servings.  If you’d like to turn it into a winter warmer, your favorite brandy or even a banana brandy would taste pretty good in this one.  Do you have any eggnog recipes that you’d like to share?

When we ran to Sam’s Club the other day we perused the wine selection like we always do. We’ll typically pick up a bottle or two to enjoy over the next couple of weeks. One half bottle practically jumped off the shelf at us. The frosted black bottle of German Eiswein Nachtgold looked mysterious and the description on the bottle sounded downright tasty!

“These precious grapes from which we press our Ice-wine are harvested in the early morning hours when it’s still dark and frozen. Our vintners therefore call this noble and sweet wine “Nachtgold” which means “Gold of the Night”.

The wine hails from the Rheinhessen region of Germany where there are about 26,000 hectacres of vineyards.  It’s known as the largest viticulture region in Germany.  This Eiswein is produced when temperatures in the vineyard drop to 19 degrees Fahrenheit or what they consider a “hard freeze”.  In the darkness, the grapes are harvested frozen and immediately crushed because the water inside the grapes is still frozen, leaving the vintner with a golden yellow liquid to ferment.  It maintains a golden-yellow color after maturation and leaves intense aromas of apple, peaches and melons.  It has a rich mouth feel and a smooth sweetness of caramel or honey.  We loved it.  I highly recommend this dessert wine if you run across it sometime.

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