I was first introduced to Perry on video, in Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall‘s BBC show River Cottage. In one of the episodes, Hugh picks some pears, and is taught how to make Perry, which is basically like apple cider except made with pressed pears rather than apples.
I knew I wanted to make another cyser after last year’s Autumn Berry Cyser turned out so well. It was my first successful dry mead, with a delightful tartness coming from the apples I used (that came from Thompson’s Orchard around the corner). I knew cider season was here and I could get great cider from them. But I wanted to try a different additive than autumn berries, since it’s still a wee bit early for those.
My wife recently found some wild pears and brought home a milk crate full. I decided to juice them (thanks for juicing them LM!), and it produced about a gallon of pear juice.
Mini-bottling session. 5 bottles of Treequinox and 10 of Blueberry Nettle.
Once I cleared some jugs, I racked the Raspberry Damiana Mead into them to age and clear. This one is another very interesting brew!
Once I had a clean carboy (thanks for the help LM!) it was time to begin making the Perry Cyser by brewing up 2 cups of black tea, and pouring this into my stockpot, followed by the gallon of pear juice, about a gallon of cider, and about 3/4 a gallon of honey. I then added a bit more of honey and cider until I had 3 gallons of must at 15% alcohol potential:
15% initial alcohol potential should give a nice dry cyser with moderate alcohol content.
The must was dark and murky, like the deepest mysteries of autumn distilled:
Perry Cyser Must
When I finished, I had a dark mead the color of leaf piles:
Perry cyser in the carboy on the left. Leftover cider on the right, fated to become apple cider vinegar.
It’s still early, so I think the cider will improve in quality in a few weeks. I’ll likely do another cyser soon….
UPDATE, 7 Jan
This is now very dry, at 1% alcohol potential, which means this is 14% alcohol. It’s still quite tart, and once it has a chance to age and clear this will be delicious!
If we wish to honor our Elders — our ancestors; our blood-roots — then we can do well to learn from their wisdom. Their wisdom honors us, if we are attentive to it. In some way, I regard Elderberries, Reishi Mushrooms, and Rose Hips as Herbal Elders. Our Elders used these plants/fungi considerably. These herbs have been our companions as humans for a very long time.
All three of them have profound healing properties on some level, all working in close harmony with our immune systems, strengthening and regulating them when they are out of balance. All three herbs are abundant this time of year, going into the cooler months where we are more likely to benefit from their properties. And all three have been used to strengthen the immune system, aid in healing sickness, in many traditions and cultures worldwide, all over the planet, for millennia.
I wanted to bring all of these Elders together in a mead. This chronicle will start with the ingredients used first.
“Reishi is that age old medicine cited thousands of years ago in several texts and scripts as being a tonic for emperors. At one time this mushroom was specifically used under the prestigious vestiges of the ruling class, but it has since made its way into the pantries of us common folk. Traditional and contemporary Chinese medicine admire it as a tonic benefiting vital energy or “Qi”, and it is popularly prescribed for a multitude of maladies.”
Reishi seems like an elder to me. It has been in use for thousands of years; its Chinese name translates to “mushroom of the spirit” or “supernatural mushroom.” There is a wisdom to this “immortality” fungus that western scientists are just beginning to wonder about.
Much has been written about Reishi; there are plenty of places to learn about it. I won’t repeat any more here, other than to say Reishi is one of my absolute favorite herbs to work with. Its decocted taste is extremely bitter, so I’ve wanted to incorporate it into a brew for a while now. Elder Mead seemed an obvious choice.
I began by chopping up my reishi into tiny pieces, to increase their surface area which will allow more medicine to be in the tea:
Reishi can be tough to cut, but the newly-sharpened Becker BK-2 makes short work of it.
I put the reishi into 2 gallons of spring water, brought it to a simmer, and let it decoct for about 10 hours.
Rose Hips to me embody the wisdom of the divine feminine, our Mother-Elders have an unbroken, living lineage back to the dawn of time. Their scent conjures springtime, and they look over us, nourishing us with vitamin C and their other, many nutrients. Bringing this mother-herb into this mead was a no-brainer.
Right at the end of the Reishi decoction, I put the (frozen, then thawed, to soften their skins) rose hips into the tea and let everything (hot water, reishi bits, rose hips) infuse and cool overnight. The next morning, I strained the tea, which was a gorgeous, clear color tasting both bitter and tart:
Reishi (decoction) Rose Hip (infusion) tea.
Once the tea cooled to blood temperature, I was ready to put everything else together.
Elderberry is one of my favorite berries to brew with. 2010’s Elderberry Mead was one of my favorites of the year, both in terms of taste and in terms of its effects on the body. Elderberries are extremely medicinal, with a long history of medicinal lore not only from the past, but also right up through the present, where its “H1N1 inhibition activities… compare favorably” to other known flu medications. Elderberry syrup is one common way to get this fantastic medicine into our bodies, but mead works just as well, and might last longer.
I got some gorgeous, purple elderberries:
Elderberries!
I did the usual; I whizzed these up in the VitaMix and then strained it into the must. This time, however, I did something different with the mark; after I strained it I saved the pulp and the seeds, put the mark into a small (leftover Rite Chocolate) jar and then covered it all up with vodka. I’ll let this tincture for a few weeks, strain it, then mix it with honey to make an Elderberry Cordial:
Making an elderberry tincture with the leftover pulp and a bit of vodka.
I’ll report back as to how the tincture goes.
Then, I mixed in enough honey to get up to a 17% initial alcohol potential:
Transfer everything to the carboy, give a good shake, label it, and clean up the bit of mess, and we’re good to go:
Elder Mead, with Reishi, Rose Hips, and Elderberries
Here’s one for the Elders. Tonight I raise my horn to you. Hail to the Blood Roots! Hail to the Mud Roots! May your wisdom bestow us with health in the coming cold months….
UPDATE, 7 Jan
This is quite dry, and very bitter from the reishi! Nice! 1% remaining alcohol potential, which means this is quite strong at 16% alcohol. This one is very complex and very nice…. should just get better as it ages.
I’ve wanted to make a pyment for a while now. Pyment is simply one of the fancy names for mead variants (such as melomel, metheglin, cyser, etc) that refers to mead made with grape juice. I was going to do a pyment last season, but never did — apparently I was distracted by the plethora of choice ingredients available for mead at this time of year when grapes are ripe in this climate. However this year, after a phone call from a friend alerting me to a patch of wild Concord Grapes, I finally had a good chance to do so.
Concord Grapes (Vitis labrusca) were developed nearby (in Concord, MA) in the mid-19th century:
Experimenting with seeds from some of the native species, Boston-born Ephraim Wales Bull developed the Concord grape in 1849. On his farm outside Concord, down the road from the Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne and Alcott homesteads, he planted some 22,000 seedlings in all, before he had produced the ideal grape. Early ripening, to escape the killing northern frosts, but with a rich, full-bodied flavor, the hardy Concord grape thrives where European cuttings had failed to survive. In 1853, Mr. Bull felt ready to put the first bunches of his Concord grapes before the public — and won first prize at the Boston horticultural Society exhibition. From these early arbors, fame of Mr. Bull’s (“the father of the Concord grapeâ€) Concord grape spread world-wide, bringing him up to $1,000 a cutting, but he died a relatively poor man. The inscription on his tombstone states, “He sowed–others reaped.â€
These grapes are hardy, and can be found in abundance in New England, having been cultivated here for many decades. Indeed, it sometimes seems that the grapes outlast the abandoned human settlements where they were first planted. I found a patch in an urban setting, and harvested about 2 quarts:
about 2 quarts of wild grapes
The grapes have seeds in them of course, and while there is a bit of sweetness to them, the overwhelming flavor is tartness/sourness. It will be a nice counterbalance to the sweet honey. After harvesting, I blended the grapes in the blender, and then strained them into the 2 gallon chaga decoction I had made previously:
straining the grape juice into the must
I then added about 14 cups of honey, enough to get me up to a 17% alcohol potential:
under all the foam, the hydrometer reads 17%
Normally with meads, one must add various acids (citric and tannic), but grapes contain both of these, so I just went simple: chaga decoction, spring water, honey, and grapes. The result is a beautifully rich colored brew:
Beautiful chaga pyment
I look forward to this one! I have only tried a few pyments, and really want to explore this further. Now I’ll have a chance!
UPDATE 7 Jan
This one is fruity and beautiful. It is sweet at 4% remaining alcohol potential, and is 13% alcohol.
25 bottles of Treequinox, Dandelion Sumac, and Whole Strawberry Mead
The colors this time are all somewhat similar, but there are subtle differences; the Strawberry has a deeper reddish hue, the Dandelion is yellowish, closest to a traditional, plain mead, and the Treequinox has a greenish tint to it. The differences are more visible in this closeup:
The three batches up close. I particularly like the Treequinox label, it came out great!
Now that I have empty jugs, it’s racking time of course. Next to be racked are the Spruce Tip Mead, which has been in primary fermentation since the end of May, and the Blueberry Nettle Mead that I did at the Mead Workshop in Auburn at the end of July. Then of course I will have empty carboys, so I’m already planning the next batches….
One of the most abundant wild foods in my ecosystem is the chokecherry. Prunus virginiana is indigenous to North America, and was “the most important fruit” in many Native cultures. My friend Arthur Haines recently produced a video showing how he likes to use the choke cherry:
Many people believe chokecherries to be poisonous, which is a bit of an oversimplification. The seeds do contain an element called prunasin which can adversely affect our respiratory system when taken in quantity, though like all poisons it depends on the dosage. Smaller doses can have a medicinal effect for lung disorders, this is one reason cherry cough drops have become so popular.
Regardless, there are a few ways to deal with the prunasin. You can either take the seeds out entirely, or heat-treat the seeds either via drying as Arthur does in his video or via cooking to deactivate the prunasin, rendering the seeds edible without harm to the human body. For this batch of mead, I used the former strategy, juicing the chokecherries and discarding the seeds.
My wife knew of a patch growing nearby and was kind enough to harvest more than half gallon of the cherries:
Wild-harvested chokecherries, including a sample of the leaves for identification. Thanks LM!
I couldn’t wait to use these in a mead! I wanted to combine it with an herb, since I’m trying to expand my use of herbs in my meads. After a lot of thought, I decided to use Red Ginseng Root as the herb. Traditionally in Chinese herbalism, Ginseng is only given to the very old and convalescent. It is respected as a powerful stimulant for those who need it in the short term, and not as a “caffeine substitute” in the west. Regardless, this herb has a long and rich history:
In Asia, wars have been fought over possession of fields where ginseng grew abundant and wild. Ginseng is a known adaptogen, which helps the body adapt to stress, and to help balance itself. A vast amount of research has been done over the last 20 years that has gone a long way in proving that ginseng does have properties that improve memory, mental acumen, and in relieving stress and fatigue. The German E Commission has noted that used as a tonic, it may help fortify and invigorate in times of fatigue, or in times when great concentration may be needed.
I made a decoction using both Chaga and the diced root of Red Gingseng. The scent of the tea was wild, almost exotic! I can’t describe it, it smells like nothing else. After I reduced the heat, I added some Staghorn Sumac powder in a teabag to infuse for about an hour. I then strained the tea, and let it cool to blood temperature.
I then juiced the cherries, to yield about a quart of gorgeous red cherry juice:
A bit over a half gallon of chokecherries yields about a quart of juice.
I then added enough of Tony’s Raspberry Honey to get to an 18% alcohol potential:
18% alcohol potential, though it's a bit hard to see with the foam
The result is a very nice red colored must:
Cherry Red Ginseng Mead! Or at least it will be in several weeks....
I think this will be a good one!
UPDATE: 11/18
This one came out a very brilliant yellow color! Surprising but very cool. This is also the best tasting mead I’ve done in a while. It’s about 4.5% alcohol potential, which means this is 13.5% alcohol.
Recently, a friend of mine asked me to brew up a custom mead for him. He wanted to work with Damiana, which is an herb I’m only vaguely familiar with. My wife had worked with a Damiana honey infusion. He then mused, “and I think it would go really well with raspberry.”
I did a Raspberry Mead last year, but in general I have been looking to expand my berry meads into using more herbs and other flavoring complexities, apart from my now-customary chaga base.
Damiana is a very interesting herb. One of its Latin names is Turnera aphrodisiaca, an evocative name that gives away one of its ancient uses:
The Greeks named it aphrodisiakos, and it was known as the “goddess of love”. The Mayas and Aztecs used damiana as an aphrodisiac, and also as a general tonic to improve health. They also used to smoke it for relaxation, as well as burning it during ceremonies to induce “visions”. Currently, it is made into a liqueur in Mexico that is quite popular. The herb has historically been considered more important for focusing sexual energies than for creating them.
As you might expect, damiana tea has an enchanting scent; musky yet floral, heady and earthy, a scent that presents itself with the confidence of a lover. You are quite right my friend, it will indeed go very well with raspberry.
Raspberries grow all over my ecosystem, and was able to scrounge up a fabulous variety of them this year (thanks to my generous friends who contributed some…. you know who you are).
I started with a 2-gallon chaga decoction, and at the end of it I threw in a staghorn sumac drupe and a handful of Damiana, let it steep for an hour, then strained it into a carboy to cool.
Once it was cool, I blended 2 quarts of fresh raspberries and strained them into the tea. I then added enough of Tony’s Raspberry Honey to get up to 19% alcohol potential:
After I took this photo, I realized a bit of honey was still undissolved in the bottom of the pot. After I stirred it in, it was just a bit over 19%, which meant the last bit of water I added to top it off brought this brew right up to 19%.
Once mixed together, the high concentration of raspberries (I used almost twice as much as last time) gave a beautiful hue:
The final color is as bright of a mead as I’ve yet made, with the possible exception of the Prickly Pear Mead:
Let’s hope this batch brings some extra special juju to my friend’s gathering. Thanks for the great idea!
UPDATE: 18 December
This mead is now 5% alcohol potential, which gives it a 14% alcohol content.
When you have a small amount of space dedicated to brewing, as I do, keeping things running efficiently from carboy (Primary fermentation) to jugs (Secondary fermentation and clearing) to bottles is essential to ensure that mead production continues efficiently. All my jugs were full, yet I have a batch or two ready to rack into the jugs, so bottling was the quagmire — as it often is. Bottling is probably the most work of the entire meadmaking process, especially if you are cleaning recycled wine bottles.
As you can see, the Prickly Pear (on the left in the photo above) remains just an absolutely stunning color, it looks (and almost tastes) like a deep red wine, almost merlot-ish, with purple overtones when you hold it up to the light. The Coca Kola Mead still has some clearing to do…. it might have been smarter to rack it again into another jug, since it has been sitting in more coca leaves and kola nuts in the secondary fermentation stage. Ah well, I wanted to keep things moving so I just went ahead and bottled it. Most likely the Coca Kola Mead will settle out in the bottles over time. It needs some time to age some more as well.
And finally, a close-up shot of the bottles, with labels applied:
Next up: rack the Spruce Tip Mead and the Dandelion Sumac Mead into jugs, freeing up carboys to make another raspberry mead and a choke cherry mead. Watch this space for updates on each of these batches to be done in the coming days.
As I learn more about fermentation on a commercial level, the issue of sulfites has come up for me. I’ve never added sulfites to my mead; it’s an extra ingredient that I never really needed. I wasn’t even sure what it did, though I know it was surrounded by a sort of enigmatic haze that it’s bad for humans; I vaguely remembered warning labels from wine about sulfites.
Sulfite is a salt, its chemical formula is SO3. It is naturally occurring, but it also is routinely added to commercial ferments. When added to a fermentation, it stabilizes the ferment where it is: the yeast dies, the fermentation process stops, and the sulfites resist oxidization and act as a preservative of the brew. Sounds reasonable, especially in a commercial setting; using sulfites prevents unanticipated fermentation after bottling (the last thing a commercial brewer needs is one of their bottles exploding in a customer’s face), and makes each bottle more consistent over time.
The problem is, some people react to sulfites similarly to having an allergic reaction. These people should avoid consuming excess sulfites, though exposure to some naturally-occurring sulfites is almost inevitable.
I still don’t think I’ll ever use sulfites for my homebrews, there is just no need for it. And philosophically, I don’t like the idea of “killing” my beverages, regardless of the specific questionability of sulfites themselves. For commercial brews, I can understand why it is used.
Plus it’s not so simple than just choosing not to use sulfites: if a commercial brewer decides not to use them and claim “no sulfites” on the label, then they must submit a sample of the brew for testing, to ensure that it truly does not contain sulfites. It’s not as simple as saying “we have added no sulfites” to a particular brew.
I haven’t decided yet if I’ll use sulfites for the Bardic Brews Meads that I will release with UFF. Watch this space.
The Blueberry Mead I did last year was really yummy, and blueberries are abundant here. So of course I wanted to do another one this year. As it happened, the Auburn Mead Workshop coincided with blueberry season. This year I found a quart of wild blueberries at my local farm stand, at a very reasonable price. So of course I used them.
I wanted to use chaga again, since chaga works so well with berry meads. I did a 2 gallon chaga decoction, and then when I turned off the heat I added a sumac drupe and several handfuls of nettle leaf. I let these ingredients infuse for about an hour, strained the tea, and let it cool down overnight.
I took the tea to the workshop, brought up to about a 19% alcohol potential using my all-time favorite honey, Tony’s Raspberry Honey. I pitched the yeast, and before long I had a yummy carboy full of a deeply colored must:
The color on this quick photo doesn't really do it justice....
Looking forward to this one again….. all the berry meads from last year were fantastic.
UPDATE
10 Sept 2011: I just racked this mead, and it clocks in at 4% alcohol potential. This means it’s a sweet melomel with 15% alcohol. Taste is good…. it’s still young of course so aging will benefit it greatly, but it’s already quite drinkable. Nice color too, will be even better when it settles out!
I’m happy to announce that I’ll be offering a Lore And Craft Of Mead Workshop in Auburn, ME on Tuesday, July 26th at 6pm. The workshop will include a small mead tasting of a few brews I’ve done, a talk about the lore and value of mead, and a demonstration of how to make your first batch of mead. Registration for the class is $30, and includes a copy of The Lore And Craft Of Mead eBook.
If there are any questions, or specific requests for what the class should cover, please contact us! I’m very much looking forward to sharing the magic of mead with Lewiston/Auburn people! Space is limited, so register now!
