Dia Dhuit, my Brutes!  I know it’s been a while, but just had to do a bit of writing this fine evening.  With sweat pouring from my brow and a batch of melomel (fruited mead, aka honey wine, to all of you out there we’re trying to recruit and just don’t know yet), I’m feeling the need to expound on the loveliness that is the nectar of the gods.

   Some time ago I made my first batch of sack mead (sweeter and stronger), made from my pa’s own honey bees.  I have to tell you, it’s just heavenly fantastic.  I don’t know if I was smiled upon by St. Arnold or if it was simply that excellent Hoosier honey coming through to this proud mid-western boy’s taste buds, but I think it’s great.  (Hells, considering I’ve gotten tanked on pints of it, I obviously like it – there are benefits to home brewing… pints of an otherwise expensive drink are one of them.)

   Just a week or two ago I bottled a batch of metheglin (spiced mead) with some orange peel, vanilla bean, and cinnamon.  It’s meant to share with loved ones at the holidays… and I could care less if you celebrate Christmas, Kwanza, or Saturnalia… please help me enjoy.  I took a slight sip and a large sniff… smelled wonderful and tasted good.  Another several months of aging will do wonders for it.

   Tonight, however, I bottled my black and blue melomel.  After aging a couple of weeks with blackberries and blueberries, I wasn’t sure what to expect.  I do have to say, though, that the aroma and taste of Mad Dog 20/20 wasn’t what I wanted!  I do believe that several months (okay, a year or two) of aging will do wonders for it, though.  I have high hopes… eternal optimism is the key here.  (By the way, thanks for Mike W for getting me to try a dram of it.  Hells, man!  It’s some nasty stuff right now!)

   For my faithful brutes who read my blogs, you all know I’m not much of a religious man.  (And for those who don’t read it when I post it… well bullocks to ya’, Johnny Jacks!)  Truth be told, I’m just not much of an organized religion man.  I’m deeply spiritual and fairly religious.  And when I saw that blood red mead pouring from my secondary carboy into the bottling bucket, I swear the imagery of blood pumping from Christ’s side after being pierced by a Roman’s spear was the first thing in my mind.  Could be St. Arnold talking to me or my near decade long sentence at a Catholic school, but whatever the reason, I have faith now that it’ll be an awesome mead.

   I just hope I don’t have to wait thirty-three years before it send me to Heaven.

   Until next time, my Brutes, don’t hold it against me for rambling on about mead on a craft beer website.  Rather, enjoy what you will – I’m on my way to try a new beer, Inveralmond Brewing’s (a wonderful Scotland brewery in the Isles) Ossian – and fare thee well!