Brewing is the beginning of the end: hops that were picked
at harvest are changed and juddered into a different state of being in the dry
heat of kiln; dead; packed together, forced, turned out into the world; the end
of the journey that barley took from the field, cut down in its prime, crushed
and eviscerated, its insides transformed, the death of John Barleycorn; the
vanquishing of water, in thrall to a process that expels it into the air (only to
start the journey all again). And, of course, the yeast, microscopic beasts,
tumbling and turning over before coming to rest in the cool limpid liquid that
will eventually end up as beer. Maybe, after second thoughts, brewing is just a
means to an end, an end that is always beginning.
And all for the greater good.
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