Albert raced into the kitchen after hearing a succession of small explosions. His eyes immediately turned up towards the high cupboards. What could it be?
The popping sound continued as he watched the foamy bubbles flowing down the outside of the cupboard doors where he had stored his precious ginger beer. He ran a finger tip up into a stream of foam and placed it into his mouth. It didn’t taste too bad.
The brew was alive
Full of trepidation, he gently opened a cupboard and slowly reached up for a bottle. One that was still alive. Foaming, frothing, spewing up and out of the bottleneck. A small amount of calm, sandy coloured fluid remained in the bottle. He poured it into a glass and waited for the reinvigorated bubbles to subside.
It was hot December day in 1915. The days were long, dry, dusty and gruelling. Albert had had been out in the paddocks tilling all morning. He had come in from the farm to get some relief from the relentless heat and quench his insatiable thirst. He drank rapidly. Almost immediately he felt like his head had burst. He felt hot. He had to lie down. There and then.
The cold earth floor helped ease the pain and fire in his head. Eventually Albert was able to stand up again. He inspected his brew which had now stopped erupting. How could it have become so potent?
Father’s new interest – brewing
Albert at the age of fifteen thought it was time to take on some of Father’s duties especially since his mother had passed away. Albert was just ten years old at the time. Since Mother’s death, many things changed in the Castle family. Great Aunt Harriet moved in. Father found a new interest. Brewing. And poor Leila, the eldest girl had to help Father care for six younger siblings and run the household. Sometimes Great Aunt Harriet would be helpful but more often than not, she was unwell. Leila said she was suffering from hysteria but no one was allowed to ask what kind of illness it was. It was just hysteria.
How it started
Father’s interest in brewing stemmed from his unnaturally high level of thirst. That’s what Mother called it anyway. He always enjoyed his daily Porter or two, sometimes more, depending on his thirst levels at the time. Mother often questioned Father about his thirst because she said it was not right to be so thirsty. He always reassured Mother that his thirst was the result of a hard day’s work on the farm.
It was in the blood
The deep attraction for brewing was also in Father’s blood. He delighted in telling Albert and his siblings stories about the family breweries. Your great grandfather Thomas ran a brewery in Worle in England, which started in 1795. Before long the business was flourishing and supplying the inns around the area with stout and ales. Then his sons, your uncles John and Thomas bought and turned the Banwell paper mill into a brewery in 1850. The boys made Champagne cider, lemonade and ginger beer as well as stouts and ales. Father was so proud of his heritage.
Continuing the family tradition
As Father had gone to Hobart Town for household supplies and would be away for at least ten days, Albert felt this was the perfect time to make his first attempt at brewing. As the eldest boy, he felt it was up to him to continue the family tradition. Ginger beer first before the stronger stuff. Father would be so surprised.
How to make ginger beer – in 1915
Albert turned his thoughts back to his ginger beer plant. A jar half full of rainwater to which he added ground ginger and sugar every day. What harm could there be in that? At first just a desert spoon full of each exactly as Father had told him. On the third day tiny bubbles began to appear on the surface of the plant. Albert began to increase the amounts of ginger until he was adding a heaped tablespoon of the powder. By the seventh, and final feeding day, the plant was producing huge bubbles which seemed to appear from nowhere on the bottom of the jar before rising up and breaking on the surface.
Albert turned his thoughts back to his ginger beer plant. A jar half full of rainwater to which he added ground ginger and sugar every day. What harm could there be in that? At first just a desert spoon full of each exactly as Father had told him. On the third day tiny bubbles began to appear on the surface of the plant. Albert began to increase the amounts of ginger until he was adding a heaped tablespoon of the powder. By the seventh, and final feeding day, the plant was producing huge bubbles which seemed to appear from nowhere on the bottom of the jar before rising up and breaking on the surface.
Father said the yeast must never be added before the brew had cooled down. Albert couldn’t remember the correct amount of yeast. Was it one square inch, two or maybe even three square inches? Albert put in three square inches just to be on the safe side before putting the liquid into a large earthenware pot for a couple of days. Then it was time for the arduous task of corking and bottling the ginger beer.
No more experimentation in the kitchen for Albert
Stored safely away in the cupboards, Albert had forgotten about his brew. That was until three days later when he heard the familiar klopp, klopp, klopp sound of the horse and buggy coming down the dusty, dry road towards the house. Father had finally arrived home. Just as Albert had suspected, Father would be surprised but it was in a hostile kind of way. Albert’s days of experimentation in the kitchen were over. From that day forward, Albert had to accompany Father on the long trips to Hobart Town and Leila was the one to carry on the family brewing tradition.
Image : Thankyou to worthpoint.com/worthopedia/antique-embossed-ginger-beer-bottle-2006037849
