The resultant liquor, however, was The Mead of Poetry, a magical drink that allows anyone who partakes of it to became a true poet and to know things other mortals don't. Unfortunately, The Mead of Poetry is a highly controlled substance. Only the gods can mete it out. For those of us who are not permitted to partake of The Mead of Poetry, the highest position we can hope for in the literary world is that of "rhymster." (Which has always made me think that this entire story has to be the invention of a poet, an arrogant, self-important poet who wanted to bad-mouth his competition. What a jerk!)
Anyway . . . this rhymster is in the mood for some honey brew, preferably a brew that does not involve human blood.
Yesterday (August 6, 2011) was Mead Day, according to the American Homebrewers Association. It seemed as good a day as any to return to homebrewing, something I haven't done since 2003. For a short time (2000 - 2002), when I was still living in Washington state, I was brew mistress of a local homebrew club. We brewed novelty ales almost exclusively, but shortly before my move to Ohio, I started to investigate homebrews that required more time and commitment, like wine and mead.
