Ken fears it’s another addiction. We are having several conversations these days that center around addictive behaviors versus new hobby interest. The cheese making started as an innocent hobby – then drifted for six years into intensive “hobby” material.
I’ll admit, there were stretches of time (four-and-a-half years) when every stool in the house was being used to prop up bags of draining cheeses and the house smelled pretty milky, but the end result was magnificent. Fine French goat cheeses that were the envy of foodies everywhere. Of course, success came at a price. Every friend who happened by got a spoonful of goat cheese stuffed in their mouths for their honest appraisals. I list this as introducing my dear friends to…the trials of fine cuisine. Ken called it a testament to the depth of my friends’ good will. It’s an addiction, he said.
Monopoly was a new hobby resulting in playing it almost every day for a month. Ken claims that is addictive. I lean heavily on the argument of having used it as a math tool for the kids. Whatever, he says, adding that the first step is admitting you have a problem.
Then there was the Caesar salad era. Six months of Caesar salads nearly daily. Man were they good! Ken maintains they were good the first four days, but for the next five months and three-and-a-half weeks it was clearly addictive. I maintained one must repeat something often in order to learn it properly. Whatever, he says, muttering more about the first step.
So, it is not with a lot of surprise that he saw two gallon jars full of apricots and crabapples steeping in cheap vodka with fear and trepidation. What’s this? He asked, skeptically. “Brandy,” I said, full of enthusiasm. “Oh God…” he said, “Another addiction.”
No way, I explained, it’s just a new hobby. I’ve never made brandy – so I wanted to give it a try. “But you don’t drink it,” he said, as if that alone was reason to abandon the project.
“I do too,” I said, puffing up.
“Oh yeah, how much brandy have you drank in the last decade?”
“A jigger FULL,” I said, nodding confidently.
“Sooo, at one jigger every 10 years, and we’re in our 40s, why do we need two gallons of it?” Ken is so pragmatic sometimes.
“Well, would you rather have the fruit rot on the tree?” I say, pointing to the apricot tree which has begun to lose grip of it’s fruit.
“I’m not sure,” he contemplates, adding a tree full of apricots could fill a LOT of gallon jars…and produce a whole BUNCH of brandy, and that he has no intention of inviting his football buddies over to watch the game and…sip brandy just to get his garage back.
“I don’t know why not,” I say, clearly hurt.
He ducks his head knowing full well that he only has two months to figure out how to explain the game time beverage to his friends. Brandy. Great. Can’t learn cold beer and brats. Gotta learn brandy. Terrific.
“Gotta go,” I say. “I’m off to buy 28 pounds of sour cherries. There’s this Romanian tart cherry brandy recipe,” I say.
“Addiction,” he mutters.
“Homemade Christmas gifts for friends,” I promise.
“The first step is to admit you have a problem,” he says. I bound out the door.
“There’s always therapy!” he calls optimistically. “Just say no!” his voice trails off as his face disappears in the dust trail from the car.
P. S. Great easy brandy recipe site: http://kansasa.blogspot.com/2007/08/worth-repeating.html
To follow the progress of this brandy experiment and see how the brandy progresses after a month, click here.
To see a complete list of Her Side Funnies comical posts, click here.
Explore posts in the same categories: Stuff to do when you're over 40, Wedded bliss, brandy