DIY (or Self Inflicted) Cirrhosis
Now I would be the first to admit that I am a devotee of drinkies. I have never yet met a tipple I didn't like (slight exaggeration, but I refuse to let a drink win without a struggle). Until I encountered home-made wine.

My maternal grandfather made superb single-varietal apple wine which had the aroma of Calvados and the falling-down effects of a sledgehammer to the back of the bonce.

My paternal grandfather brewed his own beer, and a wonderful light yeasty brew it was too. Many years of living in Africa had made him develop a beer-based timetable, and at a certain point in the day he would pour a good-sized jar out and he and my Grandmother would sip happily away. Not a bad way to spend your retirement.

My Godmother made strange wine from anything organic, which, while it exploded now and then and once tasted strangely of sardines, was generally rather toothsome in a surreal way.

My Dad, well, he got a kit. His first few years efforts were, errm variable I think is the politically correct term. Gut-churningly awful has also been used. A white wine should not be so astringent that your cheeks are sucked inwards so that your lips resemble a cat's bum. A red wine should not stain glass permanently. Or bubble suspiciously when poured. He gave up in the end, although TBF he wasn't bad after a decade or so's practice.

I have now got possesion of the winemaking kit. However, not being completely daft, I 'liberated' a couple of demijohns full of matured fruit based beverage while collecting the crate full of tubes and mysterious assorted gubbins.

Then I discovered exactly why it had been left (unlabelled) in a garage. The white has the subtle aromas of cat urine and kerosene combined with the body of a famine victim and the aftertaste of WD40 and phlegm. The Red/Rose/Neon nosed well, lots of fruitiness, before the taste of mildew, Sumo-Wrestler's jockstrap and graveyard soil muscled through.

Hmm, 24 bottles so bad that even I won't drink them. To go with the half case of Netto Spanish White that someone gave me a while back and is definitely past it's best. What to do?

Freeze-Distilling.

Pour the stuff into tupperware, lob into freezer compartment, remove ice after it's been freezing for a bit, rebottle and drink.

Well, all except the last. The first batch is sitting menacingly in an old rum bottle, waiting for me to get pissed/poor enough to actually consider drinking it. I didn't know liquids could scowl menacingly, but this one can.

I also have made a fantastic strawberry vodka, unfortunately followed by a plum recipe. This was eye-wateringly sharp, so for the next batch (and this is the clue that I had indulged in a shandy or two), I used dried plums. Or prunes as they are otherwise known.

It could only be described as 40% ABV prune treacle. After a glass or seven the memory of trying to remain perched on the throne with the room circling around me as the house apparently was crossing the Irish Sea in a Force 9 Gale, while Godzilla thrust his taloned paw up one's ricker and ripped my colon out, is still one that haunts me at 4am.

Say no to prunes.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Tue 8 Apr 2008, 14:39, 8 replies)

...
In the summer/ autumn of 2002, I made a couple of rumtopfs.

I still have them. They've been intensifying since then. By now, I'm scared of them.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 8 Apr 2008, 14:43, closed)

Excellent!
*clicks*

Ms Kaol once made sloe gin for her dad, and didn't take the pips out, resulting in some border-line cyanide-poison fun...
( Cawl, Tue 8 Apr 2008, 14:49, closed)

nostalgia
I spent much of my childhood picking things from hedgerows so my mother could make some foul concoction. Her sloe gin is lovely though, but nowhere near as lovely as my Granda's clove whiskey and plum poteen.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Tue 8 Apr 2008, 15:18, closed)

As my old gran used to say....
"there's nothing wrong with prunes - they make you regular"

Aye, but every 15 minutes?
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Tue 8 Apr 2008, 15:20, closed)

Excellent
The line "trying to remain perched on the throne with the room circling around me as the house apparently was crossing the Irish Sea in a Force 9 Gale, while Godzilla thrust his taloned paw up one's ricker and ripped my colon out" had me in fits of giggles, to the gaze of a somewhat bemused office.
( jim_bob can herd cats., Tue 8 Apr 2008, 17:24, closed)

^ ^
My child thought I was choking I was making such funny noises.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Tue 8 Apr 2008, 17:33, closed)

"Godzilla thrust his taloned paw up one's ricker"
*click* for that alone. Genius.
(theweapon never ever bloody anything ever, Wed 9 Apr 2008, 0:39, closed)

Cheers!
Great tale matey.

and 'demijohn' is such a good word.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Wed 9 Apr 2008, 11:59, closed)