Brambleberry, the tasting
Last summer my boys and I plucked wild raspberries from my parents’ home in Galena, Illinois. We brewed it into a wine that became part of our giftbag for our annual Christmas Party. It looked beautiful, festive. People were very pleased.
That is, until a few weeks post-bottling when all the gift bottles were in various homes and started spontaneously uncorking, spewing red hooch all over living rooms, cellars, and kitchens. Yep, we gave timebombs as our Christmas gift. (Turns out the right-before-bottling sweetening that the recipe called for restarted some latent, mutant yeasties in the bottles, damnit.)
Some bottles did not blow up, however, including my sole bottle. I advised the attendees to wait until Spring to drink it. We waited a bit longer and drank it this weekend up in Galena, mere yards from where the berries were harvested.
The verdict … mild. Not nearly alcoholic enough, which you might take as a good thing, but it really lacks body. So it certainly won’t kill you (like the Applejack), but it isn’t all that great. Apologies to those expecting excellence. But it is homemade and it was made with love, so if it didn’t explode on you, do enjoy!