The Magic of Morgan’s Barn Mead
I like to make mead in May. I like to drink mead that I’ve made with my own hands. And the mead that I do make is particularly enjoyable to consume.
May is my month because it offers lower temperatures and I can just wrap my carboys in blankets and forget they live somewhere away in a dark place. Temperatures above 20 Celcius bring out nasty fusel alcohol flavours that have to be avoided.
For the most part I enjoy new flavours. I thrive on experimentation and the occasional failure and embrace the surprise that comes from avoiding that whole industrial booze making process. I pay particular attention to hygiene. I pitch yeast and use a staggered nutrient regime of DAP (Diammonium Phosphate). Cleanliness makes the mead. Embrace wild yeast. And most of all, enjoy the ride as a non-commercial mazer. The outcomes can be outstanding.
The most boring meads are backsweetened to taste like raw honey in a glass – often fortified to compensate. The second most boring meads follow the pack as potential honey wine clones. The best meads are those that you can’t buy.
This year I’ll be making three 23 litre carboys of mead. I’m making a beer kit braggot with shitloads of chilli. And I’m making another two carboys of cinnamon cyser. Cinnamon cyser is expensive to make… and I’d always like to produce more than I can afford. I’d like to make another short mead at some point – I made a 3% ABV raspberry cyser a few years back that I could push up around 4-5% ABV. Maybe next year for that one, because raspberries are expensive.
Morgan’s Barn Mead may have taken a forced sabbatical with the upheaval and restructure of my ordinary life. But the mead was always coming back. Always. It’s in my blood.
