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By Root 1104 0

at a much earlier stage than would be wine. One reason for this is that in honey there are practically no toxic properties whatsoever, whereas even in the making of the finest wines there are derived from pips, leaves and stems, all of which in most cases at one time or another come into contact with the juice. The result of this is that mead never appears to affect the head in the sense of giving a headache—what is commonly called a hangover—nor does it affect the liver and make for much the same effect with feeling of nausea or sickness. There is from an excess of mead drinking—and all good things can be abused—a tendency for a certain irrational rationality! That is, a person may do a most irrational thing in the most rational way, and be fully conscious of it both at the time and afterwards. There is not that sort of blackout with failure to remember what has been done. Traditionally, mead is able to affect the legs rather seriously when taken excessively, and there are instances known to the writer where the drinkers have said that, after a prolonged session at mead drinking, they have had some difficulty in rising. The moral of this is not to drink in excess, or, if you are determined to do so—in which case no one will be able to stop you—the thing is to drink where you intend to sleep!” (Excerpted from The British Bee Journal, July 22, 1950)

Irrational rationality and difficulty in rising! I’ve never known anything closer to the truth.

The stone walls of the castle within which I undertook my brief research were imposingly silent in the vastness of Colonel Gayre’s home. The wide Victorian main stairs spiraled to the second floor. The halls were decorated with larger-than-life-size paintings of European dignitaries in times past. Thousands of books from all over the world lay on shelves seemingly extending forever. They were all perfectly dusted. In one room, a large kitchen with a long table bore a full complement of pewter plates, drinking vessels and silverware. The kitchen hearth set out as it may have been two hundred years ago. A stacked pyramid of grapefruit-size cannonballs lay in a corner, a small triangular metal corral called a brass monkey keeping them from rolling away. (Now I understood where the phrase “cold as balls on a brass monkey” came from.) Full sheaths of armor, swords, hunting bows, muskets, lanterns and other ancient paraphernalia filled the room.

Gayre was indeed a collector of stuff and I admired that, being a collector of stuff myself. Nothing seemed spectacularly valuable, but there was a lot of it. And all of it was very old, mysterious and intriguing. Somewhere in this vast collection of stuff I was searching for information about mead. But I couldn’t help being distracted by the tall and rippled windows peering out over this Scottish estate.

Outside, a walled garden flourished under the caretaking of John the gardener. I learned he was also an avid all-grain homebrewer. Orchids grew in several corners, while fruit trees and exotic grasses grew elsewhere. Beyond the walls the Gayre family had planted spruce trees, planning to sell them as Christmas trees in years to come. The sun shone briefly as I took advantage of the fleeting glimpse of blue sky to don boots and walk about the castle grounds. The grass between the loch and the castle was a rich, soggy deep green as I peered back and contemplated the stone walls and the secrets of mead.

In my room that night, I typed my thoughts and transcribed a few records and recipes onto my notebook computer, which posed a strange contrast of 20th-century technology with medieval surroundings. Outside the rain was driven by gale winds, yet I could not hear any sound through the three-foot-thick walls. Despite the eerie silence and a permeating coolness, I slept well that night.

After a morning walk I returned to my research within the walls of the castle. My wanderings found me in a room I had not visited. Toward the rear of the castle and beneath a set of cantilevered spiral stairs is a small room that served as the wine cellar. I entered