This post follows “Brandy, the new hobby.” To view that post, click here.
Well, I do believe I’ll be feeding the first batch of brandy to Ken and his football buddies. To call this batch “unappetizing” would be an understatement. It is a murky blend of decomposing apricots, The poor apricots look like aging women in there…losing their perky forms and digressing into blobs of soft pulp. Yes, AARP is not hiring me as a marketing rep. And the brandy institute is not interested in my skills, either.
For those of you interested in following the brandy experiment, I guess it is important to know that the fruit supposedly begins to ferment at 28 days. Hmmm. 28 days sounds familiar. Oh, yes, that’s coincidentally the same length of time it takes women to develop a “change in character,” too. You can disregard that last statement as brandy consumption and PMS are rarely related, except in extreme cases.
As I spin the gallon jar around, the bodies of the apricots look like lifeless eyeballs in a high school science teachers lab. Mind you, this is in direct contrast to the crabapple brandy. The crabapple brandy looks great! Clear liquid, still perky bodies at 28 days – very tasty looking indeed. (That’s the one I’ll try…three days after Ken and his buddies try batch number one. ) If Ken is grabbing his stomach and moaning in pain, I’ll blame it on the nachos, but I may delay drinking my portion…indefinitely.
Ken, I might add, views this concoction every morning as he makes his coffee. In the last two days, he’s been eyeballing this “stew” with concern, if not downright suspicion.
“I’m not drinking that!” he said this morning.
“It’s not ready yet,” I answered. “It needs filtered, and, uh, well, strained, and,…”
“In two months, there will be primordial life in there!” he interrupted. “There’s no way you’ll get a bunch of football guys to drink that!”
Obviously, we have a difference of opinion on how much attention guys watching a football game pay to what they are drinking. I will have reached a new high if I can command the attention away from a touchdown to the relative merits, or pitfalls, of this beverage. Of course, if I do, Ken will have reached a new low, too, being fired as football host. Hahaha!
Seriously, I am noticing a distinct downfall of the web…not having anyone close enough to look at this mess and tell me that 1) I’ve ruined it and it’s poisonous now; or 2) It’s supposed to look this way, and 3) to take the first sip as proof of their confidence.
For those of you entertaining making brandy, I would stress a couple things I have learned from this experiment the hard way. First, I’ve never met a gallon jar full of liquid that one could seal sufficiently to turn upside down on a counter without regretting it later. Second, covering the jar with plastic wrap before putting the lid on to seal it is an idea propped up by the plastic wrap industry. They lie. Of course, you can do it, and it may improve the seal…but it is – in no way – a guarantee that your syrupy, brandy mixture will not leak all over your counter, down your cabinets and onto the floor and cause your family dog to walk funny. (O.K., that last part was an exaggeration! The dog was not that interested in my brandy mixture, either. Hmmm, that’s perplexing.)
Also, there is another difference between the two batches. Since the apricot brandy jar was leaking, I removed the lid and replaced the plastic wrap somewhere around day 20. I was impressed by the smell, but perhaps the air tightness might have something to do with the development??? If any of you out there know, please add a comment onto this post. Preferably before Ken’s football buddies arrive in late October/early November and start complaining about…the nachos.
After that, just disregard the newspaper headlines….And in 10 years, that “Women in Prison” television show will present an episode with a woman who looks a lot like me. Mere coincidence….I’ll be in Mexico hiding out.
To fast forward another 30 days in this experiment, click here.