A brewer I will never be. But still, I try.
It seems likely my fate is to spend the balance of my life on the attempt to find a perfect brew, not even to share it with others, just to have experienced it for once.
My last attempt was beyond dismal failure. It was dark and malty, but so thick you could eat it with a fork.
If you could stand the flavor.
Sort of compelling that flavor, in the sense of being so horrible that the sensation of not eating it any more was a combination of relief, and the urge to eat some more so I could stop again and enjoy the relief.
The experiment was going to kill me.
If the spiders don’t. Or the snakes. Or the crocs. Or the occasional drop-bear. I’m sure I saw some drop bears after finishing a previous brew, even though I’ve been assured there actually is no such animal.
Just one more taste, then I’ll see what I try tomorrow.