Microbrewed Adventures - Charles Papazian [94]
“Hey aren’t you Charlie Papazian?”
“Well, how the haeeellll did you know who I am? I haven’t even given you my passport yet,” I drawled sleepily.
“I’m an American Homebrewers Association member,” he proudly proclaimed. “I read all your articles in Zymurgy magazine. Where have you been lately—on this trip?”
Half astonished as well as half asleep, I replied, “I’m returning from the beer gardens of Bulawayo.” And left it at that. It didn’t seem to surprise the homebrewing immigration officer—I’ve come to learn homebrewers’ passions can never be too outrageous.
Two year later I continued my African beer adventures to have…
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ZIMBABWE ZEPHYR SORGHUM BEER
To truly develop an appreciation for African sorghum beer, you must experience it firsthand in the beer gardens where it is served. For those who wish an introduction to the lively, interesting and complex flavor of this ancient tradition, here is a simple recipe and procedure. This recipe can be found in About the Recipes.
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The Last Beer in Swakapmund
THERE IS NO AROMA as tantalizing and sensual as that of the Atlantic Ocean at Swakapmund, Namibia. The cold, Antarctic Benguela current graces the coast of this southwestern African country, creating a unique microclimate so very different from that of the interior. Nearby, the largest sand dunes in the world rise 1,000 feet. There, on the average day, temperatures soar above 100 degrees F and drop to near freezing in the evening. Only one slim mile to the west of these magnificent dunes, the Atlantic brings cold water along the coast creating, they say, the oldest desert in the world. Ask around and it hasn’t rained here in recent memory. In Swakapmund, an outpost oasis on the coast, the climate is in the 60s and 70s during the day and damn chilly during the evening. A fog rolls in every morning and what vegetation has evolved drinks the morning dew. But I am not a vegetarian, nor was I about to drink mountain dew.
The ocean aroma—to me it is as intoxicating as the perfectly brewed Namibian-brewed German-style lager I tremendously enjoy. This one special evening, I slowly walked the beach. The sun was setting over the south Atlantic. The sky was nothing memorable—no clouds, no glory. But the smell, the wonderful sweet and tantalizing aroma of the cold sea—that is what was wonderful. It reminded me of my months exploring the northwest coast of North America in the 1970s, along the cold seas and among the remote wilderness islands of British Columbia. Here in Swakapmund the aroma is similar, but its presence of here and now is ever so much more sweet.
Thirsty landscape, Swakapmund
Did you know that the sound of the sea is a function of its temperature? I’ve never read anything about this, but I know it for sure! The sound of tropical ocean waters crashing on a beach is so distinctly different from that of cold water crashing on this southwest African sand. I know that this sound is indicative of so much more living in these cold waters. My mind drifted earlier over a quenching draft of the local Reinheitsgebot-style Windhoek Lager (am I in Germany or Africa?). I contemplated the sound of the drip and the spray of hot sparge water versus cold water and the sound that is every poured beer. If you listen to your beer, it speaks to you about its personality—if you take the time to listen.
I was in search of Namibian oysters! I found them, but not before a slow walk down the beach, wrapped warmly in my Bar Harbor Brewing Company sweatshirt. A few Windhoek Lagers, a dozen oysters and assorted other sea creatures were my dinner at the Tugboat, recommended for its seafood.
But I digress. Before this small feast I encountered a busload of Africans on the beach. They were a spectacle, a sight to remember for the rest of my life. The sea was ice cold, beautiful and crashing. These men and women were in business suits and dresses. They were rolling their leggings as fast and as far up as they could,