The Goth House Experiment by SJ Sindu

Author:SJ Sindu
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Soho Press

WILD ALE

My wife Adria and I are supposed to be in Europe, driving a tiny rental car from Amsterdam to the South of France, then ferrying to the Greek islands. Instead, we’re self-isolating inside our third-story walk-up, a month into lockdown in response to the Covid pandemic. Adria tries to tell me it’s better this way, but then again, she believes that crystals can bring luck or doom depending on the moon’s cycles.

“Something terrible could’ve happened on our trip,” she tells me. “One of us could’ve broken a bone. We could’ve been arrested. We were probably saved.”

“Sure,” I say, “our stuffy apartment is so much better than Mykonos.”

Last month we had friends over to taste some beer I’d brewed. We smoked weed and played poker, and when the guests went home, Adria and I screamed at each other like usual before going to bed wrapped up in our drunken anger. If I’d known the country would go into quarantine shortly after, I would’ve tried to have a better time. Instead I fumed at our university colleague Dennis—a newly tenured professor who specializes in the literature of David Foster Wallace—who hit on Adria every chance he got. After the party, I accused Adria of inviting his flirting, and she called me a jealous tyrant.

It’s a cold, bright weekend morning, and Adria is drinking her coffee and reading her daily horoscope—Gemini sun, Sagittarius rising, Virgo moon—and I’m researching the Wild Ale Challenge, a Midwest home brew competition that I’ve decided to enter. We sit facing each other on our green velvet chesterfield, our legs intertwined, next to the large picture window in our living room. Adria’s pillowy hair catches the sun, bending light over each dark coil. She reads my horoscope—Sagittarius sun, Virgo rising, Aquarius moon—and tells me I need to watch out for bodies of water and that maybe I shouldn’t take a bath tonight.

The April sun shines brilliant but somehow, there’re tiny hailstones going tink tink tink on our windowsill. On the street below, no pedestrians, few parked cars, one biker wearing a blue medical face mask. A large pickup truck drives by with the Chicago Bears logo painted on its back window. In the truck’s bed lie protest signs saying, STOP THE TYRANY! and OPEN ILLINOIS!

“What selfishness,” Adria says.

“They spelled tyranny wrong.”

We both turn back to our phones. I surf past a bunch of social media posts with the hashtag #wildalechallenge. Three weeks ago, I brewed an almond-coffee stout. Base of two-row and Munich malt, with 45 crystal, 150 crystal, roasted barley, chocolate malt, and debittered black malt. Magnum and crystal hops at 60, 30, and flameout. Wyeast 1056. Fresh brewed coffee, almond extract, and roasted blanched almonds in secondary. It’ll be two weeks until I can drink it, but by all estimations, it should be good.

My next beer will be a wild ale. In the Wild Ale Challenge, you’re supposed to make beer from foraged ingredients. The only thing you’re allowed to buy is your grain bill. No hops.

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