Caught In The Middle

We attended the James Taylor and Carole King “Troubadour Reunion” concert at Vector Arena in April and it was a fantastic evening.  I grew up with the music of James Taylor and so when I heard he was coming to Auckland I knew I had to see him perform live.  We were lucky to get perfect seats (second row, just slightly left of center) so the view was perfect.  My over-whelming impression from the evening was just how nice a guy James seems to be.  I mean, his music would suggest that, being all mellow and the like,  but when you are just a few metres away from him, you can sense the warmth and decency within him.  Anyway, here is a video we took of one of the numbers from their encore, “You Can Close Your Eyes”.  Enjoy.

Ah, the magic, moment has arrived.  The time when we need to take the next step forward, to move up a gear, to make a step change with the plum ‘wash’, and other phrases that betray too many Corporate rev up events. In plain English, it is time for distillation.  How do I know it is time?  Well, it is more a matter of practicalities. Easter is approaching fast and we have out-of-town plans after that, so best to get moving. Phone calls are made, arrangements are coordinated and last-minute instructions given. Tomorrow will be the big day. But first, one or two last-minute tasks to do to prepare the ‘wash’ for distillation.

Step 1: Measure the Alcohol Potential

This is new to me. “What is the reading on the hydrometer?”, I’m asked, as I seek instructions. “What ?“, I reply, clearly showing my ‘newbie’ status in the land of the Still Boys.  I discover, eventually, that  one of the items I had purchased is used to measure the alcohol potential of the ‘wash’ and should be used in a before, during and after manner. Well, let’s skip the first two stages and go straight to the “What does it say now?” stage.  In the end I have trouble reading the hydrometer, and decide that stage isn’t for me anyway and go straight to Step 2, The Squeezing of The Fruit.

Step 2: The Squeezing of The Fruit

Squeeze, baby, squeeze!

Having decided to dispense with the hydrometer, I now have to drain the ‘wash’  so that only liquid is left.  This is done by pouring the ‘wash’ through a pillow case, preferably an old one and definitely one you don’t wish to use as a pillow case again.  We need another bucket for this and several other pairs of hands. It turns out to be quite a mission and so we head for the bath.  Dean has instructed me that it is essential to squeeze as much liquid out of the fruit, securely encased in the pillow case, as is possible. For it is in the inner recesses of the fruit that lies the real flavour, the aromas that will make this pálinka taste of, well, plums (and not old pillow cases). So we squeeze, and squeeze again.  Squeeze, baby, squeeze!  And slowly we wring out as much liquid as we can.  I now understand why grapes are trampled on, rather than squeezed.  Funny the things you learn.  After an hour, I am left with left with about 17 litres of plum juice, fermented plum juice, fermented plum juice containing I don’t know how much alcohol because of the hydrometer ‘situation’ (See Step 1).

Step 3: Distillation

The Still All Connected Up and Ready to Produce!

The next day I take the bucket of fermented-plum-juice-containing-I-don’t-know-how-much-alcohol to the house where the still resides.  Dean awaits his acolyte and we begin. It is actually pretty simple.  We pure the liquid into the still, ensure it is connected right, and turn it on. And wait. And wait some more. For the first forty-five minutes or so nothing happens. Or at least nothing we can see.  But the heat is rising and the liquid is beginning its transformation into ‘hooch’. After forty minutes or so, we turn on the water that flows through the condenser part of the still.  This is part of the magic, although it is pure science.  The alcohol boils at a lower temperature than water.  Water boils at 100° Celsius, while alcohol (technically ethanol) is boils at 78°.  When it boils it is converted in a gas (like steam when water boils). The gas travels up the still, passes besides the condenser which cools the gas so that it becomes liquid. That liquid is alcohol. Pure and simple. Amazing really. Especially to me who stopped chemistry as soon as he could at the end of the Fourth Form at high school.

The first few drops appear

After fifty minutes, the first liquid starts to flow down the tube into the awaiting plastic jug. Actually the first liquid produced is (mostly) methanol, which is poisonous, as in it will make you go blind and kill you. Badly.  We discard the first 150 ml  of liquid.  Discard in the sense of throw it away, down the drain and far away.

We are now getting (mostly) ethanol/alcohol and wait while up to 2 litres is produced.  After the first litre we need to do a measure and taste.  We pour a small sample into a glass tube, insert a hydrometer into the tube and measure the alcohol.  This is a different hydrometer than before so I can read this one and beside, Dean is clear it is essentially to measure the alcohol content at this stage. It is a whopping (my description) 63% and the teaspoon-size we sample packs a powerful punch.  But it does taste of plums so we are on the right track. After 2 litres we measure again and this time the alcohol is down to 60%.

Four Bottles Of Home-made Plum Brandy aka 'Péntek Pálinka'

At this stage we  need to smell and measure much more frequently.  This is because as the liquid gets to a higher temperature, different stuff is produced. For example, propanol is produced between 82° and 97° and above 100° you start to get things like Butanol, which, according to Wikipedia, “may be used as a fuel in an internal combustion engine”. Right. We don’t want any of that!  After much discussion, smelling the latest 250ml of liquid,  and general blokey stuff, we stop production at 2.8 litres and turn off the still.
One final measure of the alcohol reveals a strength of 56%. This is really too high to be enjoyed and so need to take this down to a more ‘drinkable’ level and after much discussion and more blokey stuff, we settle on a desired outcome of 46% alcohol.  And how do we get to that level? Simple, add water! Yes, we determine how much water is required using a special formula. In our cases we need to add another 626mls of water. And that is that. We are done. We pour the finished product into bottles for distribution among the rest of the Still Boys, attach labels (Péntek Pálinka or ‘Friday Fruit Brandy’)  and were are finished.  Not quite as we, like all good Still Men, tiidy up after ourselves and leave everything nice and clean.

The Last Step: Drink

The moment arrives. Into a shot glass, a quick smell and then down the hatch!  Man, it tastes good. Very good.  In fact it tastes like plum brandy. Which is about all I need to say really.

Summary

• 8 Kilos of Fortune Plums (red-fleshed), stoned
• 4 Kilos of sugar
• 60 gms of yeast nutrient salts
• 20gm Lalvin EC 1118 Champagne Yeast
• 2 large vitamin B tablets, crushed
• Wash began on Sunday, 21 March 2010
• Wash drained and squeezed, Tuesday, 30 March
• Distillation 31 March
• 1st liter produces 63% alcohol
• 2nd liter produces 60% alcohol
• Next 250 ml produces 45% alcohol
• Last 380 ml produces 40% alcohol
• Final take is 2.88 liters at 56% alcohol
• Diluted to 46% with 626 ml of water

Homedistiller.org

This is really the best place to go for all your home distillation needs.  Comprehensive is an understatement, and it contains everything you need to know about the process, the science, and everything else connected with making your own ‘hooch’.  If you are contemplating this hobby, this site is essential.

It is one week later. One week of “plop, plop, gurgle, gurgle”, and the smell of fermentation throughout the house. Earthy, yeasty smells, smells that are cracking of the ancient code of making alcohol. I stir the “wash” every day as Dean suggested. 7 days later the fermentation process continues regularly and consistently. The fruit is holding up well, the plum halves retaining their shape and colour nicely. After the lid is lifted, there is a sort of foamy crust on the fruit, with an almost mousse like texture. A slow, steady stirring and it is gone. As the Holy Week approaches, the prospect of distillation looms.

The 'wash' one week later. Before stirring.

The 'wash' one week later. After stirring.

Finally. Finally I get my act together and start to make my own pálinka, or Hungarian fruit brandy. Sometime ago, I joined a group of men who wanted to make their own “hooch” or home distilled spirits. Up until now I have been largely a silent/inactive part of the group – except of course for tasting the output from others- but I was determined to set about making pálinka. With the help and expert guidance of Dean I purchased the necessary equipment, and have made a start. (Actually I made a start a few weeks ago, but the result was a “not yet successful” attempt. This time it is serious, this time I am serious. So here is an account of the process of home-made pálinka, photos and all.

Part I deals with the making of the ‘wash’ or ‘mash’ – getting the fruit and fermenting it.

Step 1: Buy Your Fruit

The City Market on a typical sunny Sunday morning. Te Papa is in background

I have always been a fan of plum brandy (szilva pálinka) so that was my first choice fruit.  At this time of the year, March, there are a reasonably good supply.  I choose the local Sunday ‘Farmers’ market as the place to buy the eight kilos of fruit required.  I also choose this market because it is, indeed, a market: not a shop or supermarket, but a place where people sell local food.  Those last two words are important: local, and food.   I recently finished reading Michael Pollan’s, In Defense of Food in which he convincingly makes the case that much of what makes up the so-called Western diet is made up on non-food and thus is leading to our current obesity epidemic.  Instead, he urges us to buy “food”, defined, inter alia, has something with less than five ingredients which you can pronounce and your grandmother would recognise!  Also the market reminds me of the markets that are common in Hungary and I have a vague feeling of nostalgia whenever I go to local ‘farmers’ markets. So it is off the local Sunday market to buy eight kilos of plums.

Step 2. Clean Your Equipment

Magic Chemicals

The first step is accomplished: eight kilos purchased and carried home. One of the joys of home distillation is that you get to buy new stuff.  One of the “still boys”, Dean takes me by the hand, not down the path to righteousness, but to the local home-brew shop somewhere in the Hutt Valley.  We buy plastic buckets, magical chemicals and various other stuff.  Even an hydrometer to measure the amount of alcohol. Neat.  But before I begin, I must clean the lovely white plastic bucket that will hold the concoction while it ferments. So I use magic chemicals  and wash the bucket in the bath.

Step 3: Stone Your Fruit

Unstoned and Stoned plums

As with all new ventures, you learn stuff you never knew before. Which is kinda the point of new ventures, I guess.  Did you know that stones from fruit contain have very small amounts of cyanide? Not enough to harm you apparently but I am by nature cautious.  And besides, Dean recommended it and I am student to my guide and mentor in this process, so I oblige and stone the fruit. Not before washing the fruit however. Stoning eight kilos of plums takes a long time.  Quite some time.  Maybe not next time.  But there is something therapeutic about stoning fruit this way.  I am sure that many repetitive actions become almost mesmerising after a while.

Step 4: Add Stuff to Fruit

We need to add stuff to the fruit to get the fermentation process going. So in goes four kilos of sugar and enough tap-hot water to take up the volume to twenty litres. This is a cool part of the process as there is something quite liberating about dumping four kilos of sugar over eight kilos of stoned plums. It is quite visceral. I didn’t feel that way about adding the water as, of course it, dissolved the sugar. Next is some mysterious white powder Dean has given me that are called “yeast nutrient salts.”

Sugar and Plums

In they go, to be nutrious. A this stage I feel like I making progress. And indeed I am.  Almost there now. The last step is to add yeast and crushed vitamin B tablets. But Dean’s injunction is clear: the water and plums (and sugar) mixture, must cool to 30^o.  One of the nifty things we bought was a paper thermometer that is attached to the side of the tank to measure the temperature. How long do you think hot tap water takes to cool to 30^o? Quite some time. A long time in fact.  Long enough to have an afternoon nap after my exertions. Finally, several hours later, the temperature is at the required level and in goes the yeast and crushed vitamin B tablets.  Not just any yeast. It is, I think, Lalvin EC 1118 Selection Champagne yeast. I reckon if you are going to use yeast, champagne yeast is as good as any.

Step 5. Seal It

The fruit mash is complete and now the yeast must do its work. I seal the tank with a rubber bung and airlock. A few hours later, I hear a noise.

The tank is sealed.

A strange, ill-defined noise.  Kinda like a “plop, plop, gurgle, gurgle”.  Ah, the airlock is bubbling away. Fermentation is taking place. An ancient and primeval process that surely goes back thousands of years. It is as if the ancient code is broken and the secrets of making alcohol is revealed once more.

When we wake up in the morning, the gurgling sound continues and a faint smell of yeast permeates the house. Ah, I love the smell of yeast in the morning.  Not sure whether the rest of the family shares quite the same sense of exhiliration.

Step 6: Wait

The fermentation has started and now I must wait 7 to 10 days, or perhaps longer, before the process has ended and the mash is ready for the next stage: distillation. Dean suggests I stir the ‘mash’ each day. This I do with much pleasure.  I let nature take its course, and feel that an earthy connection with man’s ancestral desire to make alcohol and thereby ever so slightly and temporarily, alter his consciousness.

Fermentation after Day One

Much has been made in recent days of the spelling of a small provincial town on the west coast of the North Island known as Whanganui or Wanganui. A simple ‘h’ is the at the heart of the issue here. The facts of the case are relatively simple. The local iwi, or Maori tribe, have sought for a long time to have the official name spelt as Whanganui, whereas the majority of local residents have voted overwhelmingly in favour of retaining the spelling Wanganui. A formal process was followed, whereby local iwi submitted their case to the New Zealand Geographic Board, the organisation responsible for the matter. Both sides of the argument were heard and debated, with the Board finally recommending the official name be spelt with an ‘h’, subject to final review by the Minister for Land Information, one Maurice Williamson. The Minister showing fine political judgement decided that both spellings were official and could use used, but also requiring Crown agencies adopting the spelling Whanganui. This change would be made over time as signs and so forth are due for replacement.

How did the issue arise in the first place? It seems that in the nineteenth century the town was incorrectly, i.e. as a result of an error, spelt without the ‘h’. Over time this simply became common practice. Language is a living organism and so change is inevitable, for whatever reason. Interestingly however the river on which the town is also located is known as Whanganui having being renamed as such in 1991, again due to the wishes of the local iwi. Likewise the local electorate is known as “Whanganui”, the local health authority is the “Whanganui District Health Board”, but the local high school is “Wanganui High School”. Some of this is no doubt the difference between the town itself as an entity, as opposed to the surrounding district. Nonetheless both spelling happy co-exist, side-by-side.

So it is not surprising that both sides of the argument seem happy with the outcome: Tariana Turia, co-leader of the Maori Party and Minister in the current government pronounced she found the decision ‘uplifting’, whereas the local mayor, Michael Laws, a fierce proponent of the status quo, said he was ‘pleased’ the Minister hadn’t fully accepted the ‘stupid’ decision of the Board.

Disappointingly, but not surprisingly, however is the fact that many ‘average’ New Zealanders seem unhappy with the decision. Comments in local newspapers reflect a thinly disguised racism in their opposition to the decision. For example, one comment says, “Whatever Maori (minority) wants in this country, they will get because European New Zealanders are weak. Proven over and over again. Sad but true.”, while another opines, “I think the Maori people in NZ have much more important things to deal with, such as Smoking, overuse of alcohol and drugs and huge unemployment, to name but a few.” Strange, but I don’t hear such people saying the pakehas need to deal with their financial mismanagement that has led to thousands of New Zealanders losing millions of dollars over the past 18 months in failed finance companies.

Some people also struggle to deal with the decision that gives both sides of the argument some sense of victory. Some see the decision as “indecisive” or “a bob each way”. They reflect a view that the decision should have been a “win-lose” (or “lose-win”!), a zero-sum game where one side advantage automatically means defeat for the other. The decision to have both Whanganui and Wanganui gazetted as official names as been used before such as the names Mt Egmont/Mt Taranaki, or Mt Cook/Aorangi.

Then there are those who confuse spelling with pronunciation, citing all sorts of example where towns have the same spelling but different pronunciations. The issue is compounded by the fact that English is not a phonetic langauge, whereas Maori is. So ‘Wanganui’ is pronounced with a “w” as in ‘wag’, but in Maori the “wh” is an “f” sound. Local pakeha find this hard to say. One comments says, “Different iwi/areas have ways of saying ‘Wh’ some say ‘F’, others say ‘W’. I for one, Whelcome the end to this whole thing and hope that it whill all be whorgotten over time.” How ‘whitty’, one might add, with heavy sarcasm.

To me the decision reflects the reality of New Zealand. We are a bi-cultural nation, founded on the Treaty of Waitangi which is in essence a partnership between the Maoris as tangata whenua (‘people of the land’, or those that arrived first to New Zealand) and the Crown. In that spirit of partnership we as a country need to work through the issues confronting us. The Maori do have a special and privileged role in that partnership that is not based on their numeric strength or otherwise, but in their status an indigenous people. Likewise the Crown has a responsibility to represent all New Zealanders, regardless of racial or ethnic origin. This is the reality of our country and what makes New Zealand unique. The conflict reflects the underlying cultural tension that exists in New Zealand, but one in which this decisions shows can be worked through pragmatically and on the basis of principle.

I prefer Whanganui, but I am happy to visit Wanganui any time.