kiya: (brewing)
( Nov. 30th, 2006 07:21 pm)
Five gallons + 1 sodabottle of cyser is now 5 gallons + a half-full sodabottle of cyser with much less sludge in it.

Not bad, needs aging. Also, the sodabottle is much sweeter than the five-gallon jug.

Definitely alcoholic.

Also, sweet enough to provoke me into declaring, "Don't worry, your [ profile] jikharra will drink it!"
Was discussing maple syrup with [ profile] autumnesquirrel earlier ('cause I'm thinking of doing a maple wine this winter), and finally got irritated enough at myself to bottle the stuff that's been waiting for me to bottle it for ages. (The "Egyptian" braggot and the rhodomel.)

The braggot is a gorgeous mahogany colour, beautiful coloring. The rhodomel is . . .
Picture of wine bottles


Not just orange, [ profile] dirtydianadd orange. ;)

Out of bottles. But maybe this will get my dear Mother to stop tapping her foot at me to bottle up the booze.

I managed not to get too much of the stuff on the kitchen floor, but I smell strongly of the rhodomel after liberally anointing my left arm. But that's fine. It smells grrrrrrrrreat! (What was that guy's name? Tony the Tiger or something like?)

Grah. Food. Find food.
kiya: (Default)
( Sep. 1st, 2003 04:08 am)
I'd feel less irritable at myself if I'd been able to get anything that needs done done today.

I'd feel more able to get things done if I didn't wind up feeling like someone's trying to split my head with an axe every time I stand up (and sometimes when I'm sitting down).

This doesn't help the grumpy, either.

On a lighter note, conversations with [ profile] erispope:
    I say ". . . gracious."
    Lavoisier mr?
    Whitney just tasted the rhodomel.
    I say "It smells glorious. It's very dry."
    Lavoisier says "What is in that?"
    I say "Rhodomel? That's a term for rose petal mead."
    I say "This one also has spices."
    Lavoisier ooooooooh. Gimme.
    I say "But of course, o rose-perfumed amazon of the South."
    Lavoisier says "Pardon me while I go fall down. That's the best epithet string I've yet gotten."
    Whitney bows. "I blame the gnome."
A post to [ profile] homebrewing gave me a vague, discontented urge to make some booze with peaches in. Now, I could do a straight peach wine or peach melomel, but that struck me as being potentially dull, so I went off looking for Stuff That Works With Peaches so I can Be Experimental.

Stuff that works with peaches, according to various cookbooks. )

[ profile] alhandra, do you have any suggestions about stuff that works with peaches? I'm thinking of trying to do something sweet and maybe dessert-y. Currently inclined towards peaches and vanilla, maybe a little bit with the spices.

Other accomplishments of the day to date: assembled the lamp for the mathom room. Haven't found the bulbs or the timer for it, but you can't have everything. Moved laundry around ineffectually. Failed spectacularly to sleep well; will apply vodka solution when preparing next attempt. Remembered to tell [ profile] teinedreugan to get bandages at the grocery store.
Not doing so hot. Dissociation continues apace; emotional reality is more than a touch discontinuous. I suspect extraordinary efforts at establishing connection would help, but are not in the offing; normal communication is insufficient and small slights have magnified effect. Depression may also be involved, but I'm taking my damn pills.

Talked with my father today; he's not coming up to a visit after all. We discussed various and miscellaneous things ([ profile] cheshyre, the missile test you wrote about in your blog the other week -- I was right, Dad considers that and how it was spun business as usual for missile defense systems.) We also had a bit of conversation that went a bit like: "You rang." "You rang back." "You initiated this sequence of ringing." "Oh, I don't know. I was there when you were born. You were loud." "You started me." "Er, yes. I suppose I can't beat that. Beyond that it just gets ontological." I am my father's daughter, yes.

Bottled the lime-ginger melomel. It's almost mellowed enough to be drinkable; sipping it is no longer the taste equivalent of someone driving tacks through my tongue, at least. Also racked the braggot and tried a little of it; I think I'll want a larger drink to make any serious evaluations of what I think. Started the rhodomel, which is bubbling away merrily (though not as zippily as the braggot did); I'm suspecting what I'm doing to get the yeast started is making for fast early fermentations.

I have this wonderfully Discordian idea that will probably need to incubate a bit before it hatches into something constructive. I've also written 215 words in the last two days (on the WIP, as opposed to the 800-word . . . thingy of a few days back) which is at least infinitely better than absolutely nothing. Not sure about the spellwork; may harass [ profile] oneironaut for comments.

Watched MiB with [ profile] teinedreugan. Or rather most of it, because our DVD is damaged. Mumble.

Anything else news? Um. Well, Arthur jumped on my head earlier.
kiya: (snug)
( Jun. 20th, 2003 03:14 am)
Today I woke up and could breathe but not speak. This was both a large improvement and a complete polarity shift from when I went to bed. The voice has come and gone through the day, but I remain enfrogged. *reepk*

We bought nose tissues yesterday. I opened the box sometime around or after eight pm that evening. By a bit before midnight the following day, I had gone through three and a half inches of Kleenex. I measured from the top inside of the box to where the unused tissues were. I would like to appeal to the management; there's a bad leak on the property.

Racked the lime melomel yesterday. Had to do it by hand, the autosiphon won't fit in the one-gallon jugs. (So if you get this stuff, [ profile] qarylla, don't bother to get one. Unless you want to play with it.) Which meant that I got a half-mouthful of the unaged mead. Which was very very sharp; I nearly took it for vinegar for a moment before I realised that it was just very puerile alcohol. We will let it age. A lot.

Started the braggot today. Based loosely on this and that and some comments that got made in [ profile] homebrewing a while back about Egyptian beer spices. Mother grant it comes out well. At the moment it's being cute; if one goes into my kitchen when it's quiet, it's possible to hear it in the corner cheerfully saying poppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppop as it madly and merrily ferments away and emits bubbles with terrifying alacrity.

[ profile] teinedreugan and [ profile] brooksmoses have each separately theorised that I may have a cold and a massive allergy attack overlaying each other. I just want it to stop before my poor nose falls off. It really should not be that colour (by which I mean bright pink).
kiya: (pooka)
( Jun. 7th, 2003 06:32 pm)
I had forgotten how much this krupnikas tastes like Big Red gum.

Down to the slightly syrup-tinged aftertaste.

Well, aside from the sinus-purifying grain alcoholness of it.
That when I saw a spam that began "MEN: . . ." I immediately scanned to the end of the subject line looking for the clause that began "DE:".

I have no earthly idea what that something is, just now, but I'm sure it says something. Possibly something in Greek.

See also explosive booze. )

I think that settles the question of whether or not it's producing bubbles.

In other news, I walk funny when I have a hand-sized patch of muscles around my hip that's locked solid. At least it's not a joint misalignment.
Brewing planning notes, of little general interest )
kiya: (snakie)
( Mar. 21st, 2003 02:06 am)
I've eaten most of a loaf of bread and expect to finish it before I go to bed. Bread and cheese: the staff of life. Yum.

I had a political conversation with [ profile] teinedreugan and nothing exploded.

I have done laundry. Doing laundry is likely to be my preoccupation for a while, actually, but I've done a good bit today already. (Right. Must transfer laundry to dryer.)

I've done a fair bit of poking about looking at braggot recipes for my next brewing project (doing my first experimental rather than directly from a recipe project now). I've got a good few ideas about how much honey and malt I want to use in it (just a one-gallon for the experiment), but I need to think about the spices. I don't want to overdo, but I don't want to underdo either.

Poked about a bit pondering at the water garden I want to build. ([ profile] jinian -- I may have coherent thoughts about container water gardens at some point in the near future, as per request.)

Miscellanea from the last couple of days:
    [ profile] alhandra, I saw a candle you made for [ profile] keshwyn. That looks tremendously cool.
    Discussed legoes and gods with [ profile] thastygliax.
    Encountered [ profile] jikharra's storied in song and massive livejournal post bed.
    Probably more stuff I'm forgetting.

. . . I just found a reference to chile pepper mead. With a term of art for it -- capsimel. So is that wacky enough to try doing sometime?
I have redyed my hair, and I feel red. I'm also, after, what, three years of doing this, getting to the point of being able to wash the henna out in a moderately effective manner. And my hair behaves so much better afterwards, too, which is a joy.

Doing more laundry. I spend large portions of yesterday bottling cider mead. I have bottled eight bottles of cider mead, and I still have mead, and I'm out of bottles. Rar! However, given that eight bottles of cider mead is rather more than I'm liable to drink any time soon, I'm sticking one in my suitcase to give to [ profile] linenoise in the event that we arrange a lunch date. Which makes six bottles in my luggage going out, which, when distributed, will leave plenty of space for books to bring back and possibly stuff picked up at the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum.

Which is an expotition I'm really looking forward to, because it looks Utterly Cool.

And for my belated yoghurt commentary. Ahem. I do not come from a yoghurt-consuming culture. (Haw haw.) It's just not a part of what I grew up with, and as I'm a food-neophobe, well. But I've come to the conclusion that it would be Good For Me (partly medical reasons), and so I've been carefully approaching the whole yoghurt thing. The first go around was . . . well, artificially flavoured. It smelled like strawberry-flavoured dentist fluoride treatments, if that translates. I ate it anyway; it helped. Today I had a higher-end vanilla one. Not bad. Nice sweet/sour thing. Slightly more than I wanted in a container. Ate it anyway. For I am Virtuous.

I am not, however, virtuous enough to have packed yet. And [ profile] teinedreugan and I are going out for a while anyway. Whoops. ;) Well, I'll pack and feed the snakie when I get home.

Closing note: I love this song.
I joined [ profile] homebrewing earlier today after a chance encounter with it cropping up in my friendsfriends from [ profile] community_promo. Got to talking a little about mead and brewing with rose petals.

I found this rose metheglin recipe.

Okay, I know what I'm doing next summer, when my roses bloom . . . .
Apparently there's a legend-of-the-two-strangers in Polish history, associated with the Piast dynasty. I think I've seen that in Greek and Old Testament sources before -- the two strangers who are turned away from one or more places until they find someone who will take them in and feed them, and they bestow upon that house blessings. . . . I wonder what the ur-story for that is.

Beer and mead were brewed in the home, for regular use; wine didn't become popular until later. A chronicler in the 1400s noted that prince got a release from the Pope from an oath of making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land because there was no beer or mead to be had there! Now that's taking your drink seriously. (It was also said that Pope Clement VIII was so fond of Warka beer that he cried out for it on his sickbed, and some of the cardinals took him for calling upon some saint.)

I find myself strangely tempted by some of these beer soup recipes. And the kashas look fine. Must experiment.

Whitney racks the cyser off its sediment, ponders writing a paean of praise to an autosiphon in her lj.
Tesla says "I feel like I should give you some kind of award for writing that sentence."
I say ". . . why?"
Tesla says "It's euphonious and pleasantly surreal. I think it's the juxtaposition of 'paean' and 'autosiphon'."

Now that I've got your attention. . . )

I've been burbling stupidly at enough people about the colour of the rose wine that I might as well just show 'em, y'know?

Picture of two big glass jugs full of fermenting fluids

In any case, that's a one-gallon jug of wine made from the rosebushes outside, the red one, and the five-gallon carboy is full of cyser (apple mead) that's slowly starting to clear, not that you can tell from the photo; the top about handspan of it is notably less . . . colloidal . . . than the rest of it. I'll probably rack it sometime.

But see? The rose wine is a pretty colour, damnit!



kiya: (Default)


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