[Bordermarch] Brewers Guild 11-13-07

[John Steele]

Well written.
   Lord Sterling

"Lathrop, Dave" <Dave.Lathrop at valero.com> wrote:
  Unto Barony Bordermarch

Greetings,



The Bordermarch Brewers Guild met this Saturday to rack our honey and
blueberry mead into bottles where they will rest and attain perfection
with age. All went well as Lord John and m'lord It-chi Top-Soy (Josh)
helped with the whole process of siphoning the brew into bottles and
then corking everything up tight. Sterilization was utilized with every
step to insure no stray yeast cultures would enter our meads and start
the whole process all over again. As we were racking the mead m'lord
It-chi tutored us in the fine art of brewing some beer. When he let us
smell the hops he was using we realized a highly tuned olfactory gland
is required because we all thought the hops smelled like rancid
vegetables. M'lord It-chi declared he loved the smell of hops. We became
aware then and there that m'lord It-chi Top-Soy either has more cultural
training than the rest of us or he is really just a strange person from
Florida. 

M'lord It-chi started the beer by boiling some water into which he
dunked an oversized teabag of shredded hops. He let the water and hops
steep for awhile then added another teabag of the smelly hops into the
mixture. This concoction began to emanate an odor that filled the barn
with a hint of chocolate. I think m'lord It-chi then added some more
chemicals to the brew, but he was very secretive and turned his back to
us as he hunched over his mixture. M'lord It-chi produced a bucket that
contained some secret recipe of dark viscous fluid. He poured it into
the pot of boiling juice with the two huge teabags bobbing around in it,
very much resembling two garbage scows being tossed about by the
unrelenting fury of some dark stormy sea. 

After placing a large funnel into a five gallon glass jar, he took those
two oversized teabag things that were steeping in the brew and placed
them into the funnel.

With the help of Lord John they poured the steaming molasses like fluid
from the boil-pot over the stinking teabag things and let it filter down
into the glass jar.

Finally, the process of brewing beer was over for the day. M'lord It-chi
placed the two teabag things into a large glass bowl for all to observe.
>From a distance the bowl and teabags looked like a Scottish haggis gone
very bad. I grabbed the bowl and brought it closer to HE Elisabeth for
observation. She was sitting at her sewing machine working on baronial
banners with Lady Catalina. When I showed it to her she wrinkled her
nose in discuss and started to back away. I then told her to touch it,
and since I control her mind she actually extended her finger to probe
the dead, blackened, steaming teabag things in the bowl. I was
petrified. I did not realize that I had that much control of her mind so
just as she was about to touch it I released a blood curdling scream to
warn her of impending danger. HE Elisabeth immediately screamed louder
than me and went into survival mode. Her legs started to kick wildly and
her arms were violently swatting at some unseen assailant. She thrust
herself and her chair back so hard that the sewing machine and table
almost became airborne. Thanks to my early warning, disaster was averted
and HE Elisabeth will live to slap me again. While this scene was
unfolding Lady Catalina began to rock back and forth at the ironing
board. She stuffed both hands into her mouth in hopes of quelling the
laughter that was building in her gut. The hands in the mouth trick did
not work, she exploded with glee as HE Elisabeth and I became embroiled
in the deadly scenario that was happening at the moment. Lord John also
found the whole incident amusing and is probably still laughing. M'lord
It-chi was petrified. Evidently he has never witnessed a man push his
wife to the edge of oblivion and then pull her to safety. He was so
shook up about the whole thing that when he left the meeting he forgot
to take his two teabag things with him. I was tempted to hang them from
a tree to see if they would repel insects, but the sight of them
dangling from a branch was too unnatural, they went into the garbage.

I always thought the art of brewing beer was a beautiful craft passed
down through the generations from father to son, but now I know it for
what it is. It is and always will be a form of punishment, not so much
for the brewers or the final beer drinker, but for the unsuspecting
initiates who take it upon themselves to become a bonafide and certified
Brewmaster.



HE Santiago 

















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