Mythic Mead

mythicmead
Many congratulations to my good friend (and former DoD colleague / fellow author) Shauna Scheets and her veteran husband Will, who debuted the first commercial product of their meadery, Mythic Mead, yesterday at Boise’s North End Organic Nursery.

 

shaunawillmead

 

It’s a very Idaho-appropriate huckleberry mead, awesomely entitled “Huck Me.”  I’ve had the pleasure of sampling both test batches and the finished product, and let me tell you, it’s positively delightful.  It’s also as pure as you can get, utilizing no shortcut sulfites or added sugars and syrups – just water, honey, berries, and the yeast to ferment it, all locally sourced.

Mead, for anyone unaware, is essentially a wine made with honey instead of grapes.  Though it’s a drink that’s been around for a long time (picture the iconic viking tossing back a horn), Mythic Mead has the distinction of being the first licensed meadery in Idaho.  Exciting stuff!

If you’re in the Treasure Valley area, look for it in local retailers as it continues trickling out to shops (and it never hurts to ask your favorite place to stock it!).  If  you’re elsewhere in the U.S., and don’t want to wait for wider distribution, you can even order online!

If you’re a fan of sweet wines and get the chance, I encourage you to give it a try.

Take a sip of Mythic Mead, and savor the legend.

 

Bene ēdite.

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Sometimes Bees, Though

Honey Bee

They don’t let you have bees in here

 

There was once a dispassionate bee who flew lazily through the loftiest neighborhood in town in a desperate search of a means to occupy its time.

So it was that when it came upon a tall green townhouse with a cracked-open window, it flew straight in and spied a lone man sitting at his desk.

The bee buzzed quietly, or perhaps quite loudly, up to the man.

“I think I shall sting you,” said the bee, for that sounded rather entertaining.

The man looked over his shoulder, a bored and plastic expression commandeering his countenance, and said, “But then you will die.”  He looked back to his work without another word.

The bee thought about this for a moment.  “Then I shall not sting you.”

The mad nodded without looking back.

The bee, however, with little better to do, buzzed up to the shelves above the man’s desk.  There, it discovered a jar of sugar sitting betwixt a dusty pair of ponderous textbooks.  This was just the sort of thing the bee needed.

Buzzing first in contemplative circles around the jar, the bee then rammed the container until it toppled over, hurtling off the shelf and shattering upon the man’s head, dousing him fully in the grainy white substance.

The man frowned extensively and sat motionless for one hour and one half of one hour.  Finally, he said, “I should have sooner you stung me.  Not because it would have been less unpleasant than being covered in my favorite sugar – for surely it would have not – but because you would have then died, and at this point in time that would please me.”

“However,” replied the bee, “bees cannot speak,” and it flew away forthwith.

 

Bene scribete.