Bubble, Bubble – – –

As usual Jack is very late, but he’s in the aftermath of Covid – – –

My Grandad used to make home-made country wine, which is a bit surprising as he was a strict tee-totaller. If we have the history correct, his father seems to have run a pub in the west of Scotland before abruptly moving to the east and becoming the driver of a horse and carriage for a local wealthy family – – that may explain things.

When Wendy and I got married and moved to a wee village near St Andrews we would take our beloved dog Rabbie for walks and gather the fruits of the hedgerows – blackberries, elder berries, elderflowers etc. I remembered my Grandad and his hobby and started doing that myself.

Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t – –

When we moved away I got rid of all the paraphernalia and forgot all about it.

But this last couple of years during Covid lock-down Wendy persuaded me to get back to my old hobby.

It’s no longer so much Elderberry, Elderflower and Blackberries, but more dandelions, violets or whatever juice is in the fridge. It’ll be a couple of months before we know if any of it’s any good, but you get a reasonable sense when you are sucking the tube to transfer from the carboy to the bottles – –

I have to admit that I wasn’t sure if I could remember the process but Dr. Google was a big help. So was Wendy who gathered most of the equipment and helped with the bottling and corking.

And so we wait – – and nothing’s exploded yet!

If we offer you a bottle please don’t feel obliged to try more than a mouthful!

2 Comments

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2 responses to “Bubble, Bubble – – –

  1. Kerri

    My parents were also teetotalers who made wine. My older brother worked at IBM in the mainframe days and the organizations he supported often gave him gifts of appreciation… The DMV allowed him to choose a catchy license plate before vanity plates were a thing, and once a company gifted him with crates of cotton fabric squares that my mother used for craft projects and as dust cloths. When he was gifted many cases of surgical gloves, my mom put them on top of the fermenting wine bottles. If I remember correctly, when the glove inflated from the gases and then went limp again, the wine was ready. Seeing a neat row of bottles waving to us from the kitchen counter was amusing.

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