Brizzling some mo Bizzle

Roughly translated that means mizzling the grizzle.

This im my brewing setup ins action makings 5 gallons of  Everards Tiger that will taste nothing like Everards Tiger mainly due to the fact that I’ve quadrupled the quantity of aroma hops and also due to the fact that it’ll probably taste like a donkey’s balls anyway (and as everyone who’s drunk it knows, Everards Tiger tastes like the sweetest, most velvety balls of any creature on Earth, those of the Tree Kelp Sifting Pig Earwig. I imagine, the kind of richness you’d expect from Brian Cox’s codpiece).

So here’s some of the dope at work:

Above: My hot liquor tank with watering can rose/ foil sparge hose attached. The blue b*tch at the bottom is my mash tun. This whole skibbudibub is used for steeping the barley. And after the starches in the grist have finished having a wild saccarification orgy we rinse the dirty little buggers off with a cleansing shower and warn them never to mess around having a theesome with that naughty alpha and beta amylase tag-team again and that they’ll regret, yet learn from the experience.

Above: This is where I boil up the wort (the creamy, sugary goodness that puts the “passed out at a -45 degrees angle covered in drool- your’s or someone else’s” into responsible R&R). But it ain’t Hip Hop without the hops so I add hops. Then it still isn’t Hip Hop because it’s English Ale not damn Anaconda foo…

Above: I pitch the yeast and leave it to rest gently. It is under the tutelage of the yeast that the boy becomes a man. Unless I accidentally pitch Yeats instead of yeast in which case it becomes a poet. Unless the fermentation gets stuck in which case it becomes Aidan Dun.

I’ll post mo pics once I can be bothered. I’m not doing this for the fan you know. Because there are literally none. Who exactly am I talking to?

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