The Fermented Man by Derek Dellinger

Author:Derek Dellinger [DELLINGER, DEREK]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi, pdf
Tags: CKB030000
Publisher: Overlook Press
Published: 2016-05-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

The More It Smells Like a Goat, the Better

THE WEATHER BREEZY AND MERCIFULLY FREE OF HUMIDITY, THE CALENDAR slogging toward the final third of the year, it was the perfect evening to sit outside and share some ferments. Bottles of beverages were ferried in and out of the fridge.

If you aren’t friends with any devoted beer nerds, you should understand that even in a casual, impromptu gathering like this one, these tastings are taken as seriously as those hosted by any wine connoisseur. There’s no hasty splitting of six packs. Each bottle is brought out one at a time, momentarily examined, and then shared in carefully poured equal portions.

Yes, this is devoted nerd behavior. But beer is no less deserving of the attention than wine. Whether saddled with flowery adjectives or aiming for sheer simple drinkability, beer can be just about anything. And many of us have now realized how satisfying it is to explore a new bottle and see what beer can be next.

As it was my turn to retrieve a new bottle, I explored my friend’s fridge. It took only a second of scanning the shelves before I noticed a powerful aroma wafting out at me. This friend of mine, Max, is extremely handy in the kitchen, has worked in the restaurant industry for years, and is one of the most fastidious apartment-keepers I know. For such a stench to be left unattended in his fridge was a bit odd.

There were a few vegetables sitting around, waiting to become salads, but none of them looked particularly rotten. A large mason jar of milk in one of the door shelves looked fairly questionable, so I assumed it must be the culprit. Back outside, I alerted him to the fact.

“It’s not the milk,” he sighed. “I’m pretty sure you’re just smelling this cheese I got.”

“I don’t know, man.” I was slightly offended he thought I might fail to recognize a weird cheese smell. Me, of all people, failing to recognize weird cheese. “I’ve had a lot of cheese in my life, and I’ve never had a cheese smell like that. Something is doing the wrong kind of fermenting in your fridge.”

I first thought it smelled like vegetables that have been thoughtlessly thrown into the trash just after you’ve replaced the bag, dooming them to a few days of open-air decomposition before the trash would be emptied again. Or no, that wasn’t quite right: there were powerful notes of something animal in there. Something that has been dead and vanquished and shit itself in the process.

Definite notes of fecal matter. Something that no vegetable is capable of.

From back outside: “It’s the cheese, I’m telling you.” Max sounded certain. Obviously, he’d had more experience with the contents of his fridge than my brief, ten-second expedition to grab a beer. I guess he’d know. “It smelled like that when I got it. I think that’s how it’s supposed to smell.”

“Did you actually try any of it?”

“I tried a piece. I survived.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not eating any more of it, but yeah.

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