TWO Sorghum Wine
1
WHAT TURNS THE sorghum of Northeast Gaomi Township into a sweet, aromatic wine that leavesthe taste of honey in your mouth and produces no hangover? Mother told me once, making sure Iunderstood that I was not to give away this family secret, for, if I did, not only would ourfamily’s reputation suffer, but if our descendants ever decided to set up another distillery they’dhave lost their unique advantage. Without exception, the craftsmen from our neck of the woodslive by a simple rule: they would rather pass on their skills to their sons’ wives than to theirdaughters. This established practice carries the same weight as the law in certain countries.
Mother said that the distillery was already a going concern under the operation of the Shanfamily. The wine they made wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t nearly as aromatic and rich as the wine thatwould come later, and it lacked the honeyed after-taste. The incident that resulted in the uniqueflavour of our wine occurred after Granddad murdered the Shans, and Grandma, following a briefperiod of discomposure, pulled herself together to display her natural entrepreneurial skills.
Like so many important discoveries that spring from chance origins or a prankster’s whim, theunique qualities of our wine were created when Granddad pissed in one of the wine casks. Howcould a man’s piss turn a common cask of wine into a wine of unique distinction? you ask. Well,this takes us into the realm of science, and you won’t hear any nonsense on the subject from me.
Let those interested in the chemistry of brewing toss the matter around.
Later on, in order to improve upon the process, Grandma and Uncle Arhat hit upon the idea ofsubstituting the alkali from old chamber pots for fresh piss – it was simpler, more efficient, andmore controlled. This secret was shared only by Grandma, Granddad, and Uncle Arhat. Iunderstand that the blending was done late at night, when everyone else was asleep. Grandmawould light a candle in the yard, burn a wad of three hundred bank notes, then pour the liquidinto the wine casks from a thin-necked gourd. She did it grandly, with an air of sublime mystery,in case there were prying eyes, for the astonished peeping Toms would assume that she wascommuning with spirits to seek divine assistance for the business. From then on, our wineprevailed over all our competitors’, nearly cornering the market.
1
WHAT TURNS THE sorghum of Northeast Gaomi Township into a sweet, aromatic wine that leavesthe taste of honey in your mouth and produces no hangover? Mother told me once, making sure Iunderstood that I was not to give away this family secret, for, if I did, not only would ourfamily’s reputation suffer, but if our descendants ever decided to set up another distillery they’dhave lost their unique advantage. Without exception, the craftsmen from our neck of the woodslive by a simple rule: they would rather pass on their skills to their sons’ wives than to theirdaughters. This established practice carries the same weight as the law in certain countries.
Mother said that the distillery was already a going concern under the operation of the Shanfamily. The wine they made wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t nearly as aromatic and rich as the wine thatwould come later, and it lacked the honeyed after-taste. The incident that resulted in the uniqueflavour of our wine occurred after Granddad murdered the Shans, and Grandma, following a briefperiod of discomposure, pulled herself together to display her natural entrepreneurial skills.
Like so many important discoveries that spring from chance origins or a prankster’s whim, theunique qualities of our wine were created when Granddad pissed in one of the wine casks. Howcould a man’s piss turn a common cask of wine into a wine of unique distinction? you ask. Well,this takes us into the realm of science, and you won’t hear any nonsense on the subject from me.
Let those interested in the chemistry of brewing toss the matter around.
Later on, in order to improve upon the process, Grandma and Uncle Arhat hit upon the idea ofsubstituting the alkali from old chamber pots for fresh piss – it was simpler, more efficient, andmore controlled. This secret was shared only by Grandma, Granddad, and Uncle Arhat. Iunderstand that the blending was done late at night, when everyone else was asleep. Grandmawould light a candle in the yard, burn a wad of three hundred bank notes, then pour the liquidinto the wine casks from a thin-necked gourd. She did it grandly, with an air of sublime mystery,in case there were prying eyes, for the astonished peeping Toms would assume that she wascommuning with spirits to seek divine assistance for the business. From then on, our wineprevailed over all our competitors’, nearly cornering the market.