Salmonberry Mead Brewday

I scored the salmonberries in June when I was out visiting my father in Seattle; he has a bunch of them growing on his property, but no one ever does anything with them—well, except the birds. Since they were just coming ripe when I showed up, I picked all I could and froze them so I could take them back to Dayton on the plane. And a humorous anecdote from my childhood: when we were kids, my father told me that salmonberries were poisonous, most likely to keep us from fucking around with them. Since I was a naïve child, I believed him. Fast forward to last summer when Elli and I were out in Seattle; we saw some salmonberries, and she asked about them, and I said they were poisonous. She was pretty sure they weren’t, so we asked my brother Jason, who proceeded to laugh at me for believing our father. When I asked my dad why he told us they were poisonous, his response was classic father-caught-years-later-for-telling-lies-to-his-kids: “Did I say that? Huh. I don’t remember telling you that, but maybe I did. It sounds about right. You little bastards were always eating weird shit, and we got tired of calling Poison Control to make sure you weren’t going to die. So we told you it would kill you. Probably serves you right.” That’s straight-up parenting 101 right there, folks.

B. Salmonberry Mead

44 oz. Robert Irvin raw honey
1 ¾ lbs. salmonberries
¾ gallon RO water

Combined and heated to 140° F; removed from heat and chilled overnight. Racked into 3 gallon carboy & pitched Lalvin 71B-1122 Narbonne yeast.

Brewed: 9/1/2012
Secondary: 10/13/2012
Bottled:

Tasting Notes (12/9/2012): When I racked this mead into the one gallon secondary, there was enough left over to fill one 8 oz. bottle, which I dutifully bottled and put to the side; my friend Tim came over this evening, so I decided to sample it, since he is, well, pretty much a mead guru: for my wedding, I got 6 bottles of 6-8 year old mead. Since it was chilled, it took a bit for it to warm up—I kept it in the fridge in case there was anything for the yeast to keep working on: bottle-bombs are no one’s friend. The mead was a lovely off-orange salmon berry color, and the nose was honey with a touch of fruit tartness and tannic skin character. Flavors followed the nose, with a touch of tart fruitiness—I can say it tasted like salmonberry, but it was more a generic light berry flavor that almost verged into huckleberry for tartness—and there was certainly a tannic skin bite. Once it warmed, there was some alcohol warmth that will need to age out—although already less than two months ago when it went into the bottle—but still, it was surprisingly pleasant. As well, it is probably on the drier side, but not much to do about that now. I look forward to trying more of this in about a year or so once the rest gets into bottles.

Elderberry Mead Brewday

I found the elderberries last fall at my local farmer’s market; since then, I’ve been intending to use them in my first attempt at mead. Well, it looks like Captain Lazy finally got off his ass and decided to do something with them. I threw in the mulberrries because they’d been cluttering up the freezer as well. Don’t worry, I’m sure Tim will chastize me for mixing my fruit.

Elderberry Mead
7 lbs. Robert Irvin & Sons raw honey
2 lbs. frozen elderberries
12 oz. frozen mulberries
2 ¼ gallons RO water

Combined and heated to 140° F; removed from heat and chilled overnight. Racked into bucket, and pitched Red Star Côte des Blancs yeast.

Brewed: 3/19/2011
Secondary: 4/17/2011
Bottled: 9/17/2011

Tasting Notes (2/12/2013): So I think I’ve given this enough time to age in the bottle; while I’ve tried a few bottles of this along the way, mostly it has just sat in the basement. Elderberry Mead pours the color of a thinner, lighter grape juice; it is clear and bright in the glass, with no head or discernible carbonation—I got like one bubble in the glass from the pouring. There are garnet highlights from the light through the glass, and small but perceptible legs on the glass from the mead itself. The nose is more elderberry than honey—while some residual honey sweetness is present, the main aromatic is a tannic skin bouquet from the fruit akin to red wine, albeit without some of the reciprocal red wine undertones. Fruit aromas consist of berry and grape with a soft honey under glow. Flavors start with a dry honey sweetness that is tempered by the dry tannic bite of the elderberry fruit skin—this is certainly a dry mead in terms of flavor and mouthfeel—creating a bright but puckering mouthfeel. In the middle features a depth of fruit flavor, with berry, grape, and plum the most forward. The finish is grape skin dry on the palate with a touch of alcohol warmth—it has begun evening out nicely in the last year and a half, allowing the other flavors to come more to the forefront. Still, this is a drier mead, and the addition of the elderberry further dries this on the mouth—the predominant feature is the skin character of the fruit, even more than the flavor. While I find this an interesting to the mead, it could use more depth and substance as a whole.  I’d like to make another version and increase the ratio of honey per gallon (to 9 or 10 lbs. of honey) to see if more residual sweetness creates a better overall mouthfeel and flavor profile. But isn’t that what being a home brewer—or in this case a mead maker—is all about? And honestly, as my first attempt at a mead, it is certainly better in comparison than my first couple of batches of beer.

438. Scott Young Happy Critters Meadery Flathead Cherry Mead

Scott is another of the rabble-rousers in my local brew club, DRAFT. He’s an accomplished mead maker—his labels feature his cat and dog on the label, although the “happy critters” he’s referring to are those of us who get to drink the contents of the bottle. Or at least I’m assuming that’s who the happy critters Scott’s label refers to; I don’t think he is feeding his pets mead, although you never do know with Scott. He gave me this bottle a little over a year ago (it was brewed in 2008, and has the number 51 written next to the year), and I’ve been waiting to manufacture an excuse to try it. Is the desire to write this post too transparent?

Pouring a deep rich but slightly murky reddish brown—it was clear until I put it in the fridge to chill it a touch—Flathead Cherry Mead has a tart cherry and honey nose mixed with a touch of alcohol—there is a slight sweetness, but also a bit of sharper or younger alcohol mixed in with the other aromas. As it warms, the aromas meld into a pleasant cherry candy aroma. When swirled in the glass, it does exhibit some legs on the glass, and there are nice garnet highlights that flicker on the table when light shines through the fluid. Flathead Cherry Mead starts sweet and simultaneously tart—sweet from the honey and tart from the cherries. Cherry flavor emerges in the middle along with more of the tartness, and the finish is dry and lightly minerally with some warmth from the alcohol. There is a flicker of sweetness that returns in the finish; however, while there is sweetness across the profile, the mead is also very dry, which helps accentuate the tartness and cherry flavor. I’ve had other bottles with Scott that had more residual sweetness in the body, but I might be a fan of the tarter, drier version—there is a slight puckering component that I find refreshing, although slightly un-mead like. The body is medium, and since this is a still mead, there is no carbonation. This mead is delicious now, but it does taste a bit young (and not Scott Young)—the alcohol dissipates as the mead warms and the tartness exerts itself, which also allows the cherry flavor to come to the foreground, but it doesn’t quite disappear completely. Ah, time, you cruel mistress—you make things better, but it is so hard to wait. Nice work, Scott—I look forward to seeing how this mead continues to develop over time.

(12/9/2010)