Andy makes nettle beer -Part One

Andy has been cultivating a patch of nettles on the allotment with a view to making nettle beer. I say 'cultivating' but what this really means is that I've been banned from weeding them until they have reached 'peak plucking time.'

Which they did this weekend.

Now, recipes for nettle beer, elderflower champagne and dandelion wine are very vague in their specifications for how much nettle/ elderflower/ dandelion you actually need. The recipes say things like '2 litres of flower heads' and 'about a small carrier bag full.' It's all very subjective. I mean, one person's small carrier might be another's medium. And how do you measure 2 litres of flower heads? Flower heads are solid. Does the 2 litres include air gaps or do you have to squish them in as tight as they'll go?

It's all very confusing...

Anyhow, Andy picked a 'large bin bag sackful of nettles'. For a scientist, he isn't very exact sometimes. I guess it's all part of the fun of home brewing, the experimental elephant, I mean element bit. I'd like to get more excited about the brewing process but because I have hypersensitive taste buds which means all alcohol tastes like vinegar and battery acid to me, I just can't work up the enthusiasm. This is one part of the self-sufficiency bus that Andy drives without a co-pilot.

Here is Andy in action yesterday, getting the brew on the go.

First, wash nettles to get rid of traces of cat/dog/fox wee/poo and/or birdie droppings. Wear gloves. Here, Andy is modelling the latest in latex. After emptying the kitchen cupboards of every large container he could find, he decided to wash nettles in the bath. And use my preserving pan for cooking them in.

Put 6 litres of water in preserving pan. Unfortunately, the measuring jug is currently in the fridge holding my latest batch of home-made chicken stock (I am very into home-made stock at the mo. It makes the house smell like you've got a roast dinner on the go, for a fraction of the cost.) So Andy was going to use the only other measuring receptacle we have which ladles out 200ml at a time. It was going to be a long process to reach 6 litres and I could see him losing hope before he'd even started.
'Why don't you use an empty squash bottle?' I said. 'That'll measure out a whole litre at a time.' 'Good idea!' said Andy, immediately back on the beer trail.
I was going to offer him one of my growing collection of squash bottles that I am saving to build an eco-greenhouse with, but luckily he found one he'd finished that morning so I didn't have to reveal the eco-greenhouse plan to him just yet and he can remain under the illusion I am still clinging on to sanity.

When water is boiling (this would have taken less time if the lid had been on the pan, but I was keeping schtumm at this point), add the nettles, turn OFF the heat, and allow mixture to cool for an hour. I think if you allow mixture to boil, you end up with green goo that you can use to dye clothes. I don't wear green. I am also very aware it's only a short step between dyeing clothes using nettle juice and weaving your own pyjamas from sheep wool plucked from barbed wire fences a la 'The Good Life'. So we shan't go down that route, shall we?

Spend an hour drinking tea and coffee and eating cake and saying 'What time is it?' Perhaps use time to sterilise fermenting bin which has been standing in the bathroom for months.

Next, strain the liquid through a muslin bag. This involves building a contraption with kitchen chairs and bits of wood. And standing well back from the scalding steam. And that means you, Tybalt.

Then, have a discussion on the meaning of 'tepid.'
'Well, it's warm, isn't it?' I say.
'Yes, but how warm is warm?' says Andy.
'I don't know. Put your hand in it,' I suggest.
'I don't want to,' says Andy.
'Well, it's your nettle beer,' I say. I'm not having any of that malarkey and being the one to end up with green hands.

It's a tricky business deciding on 'tepid.' Tricky, and at times painful. Best employ the brewing thermometer, if you can get it out of its plastic packaging.

Once 'tepid' has been pinpointed (generally when the words 'Oh, that'll do,' are uttered), add things like sugar, lemon, orange, cream of tartar and yeast. Don't worry if the yeast might be out of date. It'll either work or it won't. There are plenty more nettles about at the moment.

Finally, stand brewing bin in 'conservatory' for people i.e me to kick and fall over for a few days. Luckily, the process of nettle beer making is quicker than wine-making so I won't be kicking the bucket for long.

Things are fermenting. I'm just waiting for the bang...