Sean’s Cream Stout
We woke this morning in the charming little village of Kinsale. I spent the day walking around, poking my nose into little shops and sampling the local cuisine.
We stopped into The Kinsale Brewery for one last pint and ended up purchasing a couple of mini-kegs of the 1703 pilsner and Landers Ale. David the brewer stepped out while we were chatting and said, “Do you want to start a batch?”
Do bears s**t in the woods?
I walked back with David into the brewing room where one of the large, stainless-steel vats was lidless. The brown mash was bubbling away and, standing in his wellies on the beer-slick floor with a wry smile on his face, David handed me a plain yellow bucket. The realisation of what I was about to do dawned on me.
“This is the yeast?” I asked.
“That’s the yeast,” he answered.
I stared down into the churning brown fluid. There it was, a blank canvas of sugars and beerstuff waiting for the yeast to be pourn in and start farting itself to death.
David chuckled, “You’ll have to come back in three weeks and see how it turned out.”
“What style of beer is this batch?” I asked.
“Cream Stout,” he answered.
Another trip to Kinsale may be in the works . . .