Greg Doering, Kansas Farm Bureau
I can’t remember if I was helping check mother cows during calving season or chopping ice throughout a spell of cold weather when I was motivated to do something I should not. I do know it had to do with this time of year when my grandpa’s storytelling discovered a set of eager ears and launched a journey that would be completed a few weeks later on, almost the time spring break rolled around.I remained in high school, and I can still visualize the scene in my grandfather’s pickup truck as he informed me about the time he attempted to make white wine when he had to do with my age. From my hazy recollection, the gist of the story was he put some yeast into a bottle of grape juice and then stuffed a cork in the neck and stowed the brew away inside his closet.Eventually, he forgot about the science experiment fermenting somewhere among his blue denims and boots. The days turned into weeks before there was an unexpected reckoning as the cork’s grip on the glass was overcome by an accumulation of co2 and shot out, followed by the remainder of the bottle’s contents.”I got in a decent quantity of difficulty for ruining my clothing
,” my grandpa told me.”But my closet sure smelled helpful for a very long time. “Even while I was making fun of the punchline, my mind was forming a strategy to perform my own experiment. I even had the benefit of understanding a cork shouldn’t be utilized. I likewise took fulfillment in the apparent loophole my grandfather assisted me see. While I was too young to buy alcohol, there was no such restriction on sourcing all of the needed ingredients.It didn’t take long to hire a friend to help complete this small act
of disobedience. We soon deserted our initial strategy to produce our own vintage with freshly crushed grapes in favor of a couple bottles of juice off a shelf, a sack of sugar and some yeast. These supplies were artfully divided in between two different shopping carts so regarding prevent raising any suspicions of their designated use.We pulled away to the cover of my friend’s cooking area to start blending the elixir, an act we were old enough to know
was wrong, however we were young enough to do it anyway. We spooned in sugar and added bread yeast before stretching balloons over the lips of each bottle. Then we waited.Periodically examining the mixture over the next couple of weeks offered a terrific view of chemistry in action. The yeast consumed the sugar producing enough co2 to fill the balloon, which was evidence our plan was working. When the rubber orbs began to deflate a few weeks later, it was lastly time to test our winemaking skills.We were naïve adequate to hope we ‘d brewed something incredible. We would have gone for something that was simply drinkable. Our sights were set way too expensive. While the liquid released a nearly enjoyable aroma as we strained it through coffee filters, the initial sip was overpowering. A lot so that I had a much more intimate understanding of what Roger Miller was singing about in” Chug-a-Lug “. We didn’t make it much beyond the preliminary tasting before abandoning the concept of consuming our wine. I’m sure it could have been repurposed to strip varnish or a ground clearing herbicide, however. The only buzz I received from the red wine was the bit
of knowledge that my grandpa was lucky to have actually forgotten that bottle in his closet.