Easy ways to win Hi-Lo

It’s fine to say that we live in a Free Country, like that idea somehow means everybody around us are living their lives to self-determined whim without limitation. But, deep down, we all know that isn’t the case. Between taxes, police forces, rules and regulations, there is a minefield of moral and social constraints – the country, any democracy, is not free in the sense those people claim. It is free in a far more general sense.

The way our country is free would be more in the way of a social contract. We are allowed by government to self-determination as individuals in a greater sense. Nobody pulls your child out of school and says “You will be a plumber!” … nobody taps you on the shoulder and says “You are now in the army!”

However, we do have things like picture identification, tax file numbers, business numbers, standards, licensing, accreditation, criminal databases and a whole bunch of other things that strike a balance between you and how far your freedom extends. You are free to operate within the constraints of societies limitations.

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An old friend will be cremated this afternoon, on what would have been his 50th birthday, laid low to lung cancer in what should have been his prime. Scott Riley will be sadly missed.

We met in the hard yards back in the day. Say no more. Scott was the stereotypical cheeky bogan larrikin who grew up hanging around the streets getting into mischief. I met Scott through the father of the girl who had Scott’s earlier children; she died young from asthma. So it was good to see that Scott met Linda and found a good path through life, when he could have easily chosen something else (a reference there to Train Spotting). Fundamentally, my old friend Scott was a very good man. Linda might not have made him that good man, but she certainly polished the edges and gave him the ambition to succeed.

Scott Riley was one of the few I chose to associate with after my release. And, to some regret, one of the many I had to cut loose to get a decent life for myself without being dragged by the minions of the local underworld back into prison. I did it by severing all my associations and relationships, especially after my family disowned me following the death of my father. I headed back to school for a decade of higher education, got two degrees and ended up with a good life for myself. Scott got out of that life by finding solid work and making new friends.

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I’ve been making mead for a decade and the way that I’ve made mead has changed over time. What we know about mead and the processes involved has expanded to a point where you can turn a good mead around in three months from honey-to-glass without that traditional patience of waiting for fruit to drop and months-to-years ageing in the bottle. A really nice mead to make this way is called Viking Blod.

What the Hell is Viking Blod?

You’ll see a lot of Americans, in particular, calling cherry mead a Viking Blod. And that’s fine. But the Viking Blod mead that I’m talking about is that one based on the 1700s Danish recipe with hibiscus and hops. I use a 1-to-4 ratio of hops-to-dried-hibiscus and I probably put a lot more hibiscus in there than the Danish version (and, naturally, the same goes for hops). I believe their Viking Blod is pink, while mine is vibrant red. I would guess their Viking Blod is less fruity and bitter, as well.

The quantities depend how red and vibrant you want your mead; also, how much you like the taste of hibiscus, because it tastes like a citrus and cherry blend. The noble hops you employ should balance accordingly. That 1-4 ratio is a good starting point.

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