It's booze backlog day at my house. I've been lazy about it, partly on account of my partner stopping drinking, and partly just because.

Still working through the giant box of half-finished projects I got several years ago from some friends who moved to Canada. One of the items was a small bourbon bottle filled with little pointy chiles + mystery booze.

I just tasted a teeny drop of it because of course I did, what is wrong with me. πŸ‘… πŸ”₯ πŸš’ 🚨 πŸ†˜

After a quart of milk the pain in my tongue has subsided to a dull stabbing.

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Meanwhile, my knotweed wine tastes like a competently crafted country wine that was unfortunately made of japanese knotweed. Good up front followed by a bunch of grassy weird notes. I'm kind of proud of it though? It's a faithful expression of its source ingredients.

The plum-apple wine is marginally drinkable, and might improve with age.

Just realized I forgot to sulfite either wine, oops. So I hope the age magic happens fast.

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Kith Kitchen

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