Brewed Beverage of Choice: A Spot of English Tea gearing up for the biggest week for Oregon Brewers and beer aficionados alike
The irony from the last post is that the meeting of the minds never took place for one of the members (not me) decided to attend a Timbers exhibition match. Instead that night I got to go to a local pub and converse and drink beer with some of my favourite brewer friends…and non-brewer friends. But I still did some editing on the works that were flowing from the prior weekend. And for that effort I will give you two of the poems that came from that river.
Prosit!
the confucian brewer
Mash Paddle 13.July.2008
In my hands, the mash paddle.
Ground through the mill
the malt falls, mixing
With hot water, and piles
Up on the bottom of the mash tun.
I use the paddle to stir,
To even out the mash,
an attempt at consistency.
This is how I explain it to my son,
If and when he arrives.
Holding the paddle in his tiny hands
We will stir the mash as I explain,
“You must constantly stir
so that the malt and the water mix.
Too thick and nothing flows…
Too thin and the wort weakens…
You must use the paddle
To determine the mash’s body,
To gauge its consistency.”
Every day I take the mash paddle
And create a sieve of hot water and malt.
I will teach this to my son:
a good mash is only the beginning,
But it is the key to a good brew.
I am a mash paddle.
He will become a mash paddle.
Untitled #2 13.July.2008
As I read Snyder’s Axe Handles
The dog lay at my feet.
She is now 10 years old.
Some believe that equals 70
In dog years. Not too sure
I subscribe to that theory.
If true, Tess is a spunky Septuagenarian.
We have been together
A length of 8 years.
She has me well trained.