Straight from the still
Don’t leave your shampoo in the campground shower facility, as new owners are lying in wait. It seems that the time of adoption of an unwatched bottle can be measured in minutes.
We decided to get our annual donair, today. The key is to order extra sauce. Lunch in the danger zone.
On the way back, a turn to the left (rather than right) and we were in line for a tour of the local distillery. Now, I am old enough to remember the moonshine culture, so seeing a legal alambic was something close to mythical. Larger than expected, shiny, with a back story; the still was purchased in Germany and assembled without any documentation more pertinent than a photograph. It works, and the production is genuine.
I skipped the taste session, but the odours of the variations of vodka, gin and whiskey revealed a percentage of C2H6O3 that would pass the other kinds of tests.
We also learned about head, heart and tail; the differences in the run that increase the risk of after-effects. Again, a chemistry lesson. The mash is fed to some privileged local pigs, who are reputed to be connaisseurs. Pickled pig hocks, anyone?
And this was the local firm, so: Thanks for the tour, cousin!
Another generational landmark this evening, when friends of our children joined us at the campsite and restaurant. The difference; our children were elsewhere. We’ve become socially acceptable, in a way that would never happen “at home”. Odd. I appreciate how far the couple came, just to say hello.
