Recently we sent our own DJ Psycho Eddie to scope out the new Greenwich Cove Meadery, here are his thoughts...
Today I took a trip to the Greenwich Cove Meadery. I have to say, I was highly impressed, and I think you will be too!
Currently still in the soft open stage (open on limited days for tastings and sales only) they have 5 different offerings to sample, buy by the glass to enjoy on premise, or purchase to take home in 500ml and 1Liter grolsch bottles.
They also have raw unfiltered honey, in different size containers.
If you have not been exposed to mead, it is a wine made from honey instead of grapes. It usually
has more body due to the honey it's made from, also the alcohol content is higher due to the
fermenting sugars. They do not boil the honey before the fermentation or filter it afterward.
This is a 100% natural product.
Upon my visit I was able to sample:
Pyment - made with wine grapes. This had a great flavor!
Golden Good - #1 and #2 Made with cinnamon spices and apple there were two
batches available. #2 had more cinnamon. (Like drinking apple pie.)
Cranberry - Cranberry flavor was pronounced with a tart, dry flavor.
Berry Bliss - mixed berry flavor, also surprisingly tart.
These 5 are all for sale, but I was also able to try some experimental batches like Pineapple and
Ghost Pepper!!! Both were fabulous even though the Ghost Pepper was a bit too spicy for some that tried it.
All of the honey used here is 100% raw, unfiltered, locally sourced, and hand gathered. As I talked
to the staff during the tasting, I found out how knowledgeable they are about the products they make and sell and the processes in getting raw ingredients to finished product.This would make a great stop for anyone to learn about mead and its history.
Hopefully they have a long future!
DJ Psycho Eddie is part of the new MyNightOut Radio (coming soon to RI Free Radio) which will also feature the Providence Night Out team.
For the third time tonight I turn the corner and she’s there, glassy eyes bulging. The staring thing. Shuffling forward in green slippers and black nightgown along the stained carpet of the third floor hallway. She stops when she sees me. The right eye sees. The left eye is filmed over, like an Edgar Allan Poe story. She hisses deep in her throat. I wait until the reptilian sound fades. Finally she stirs herself, and speaks. From a dry throat, without much apparent practice at human speech. “I don’t know what’s the matter. I can’t sleep.”
Speaking, she becomes the non-supernatural resident of room 307 here at the Blessed Name apartment complex, where I work security weekends, 3rd shift. Doreen Lange. 85 years old. Lucky at Thursday night bingo. A bummer of change for the washing machine. With a strong resemblance to the dead woman in the bathtub in Kubrick’s version of The Shining.
On nights she can’t sleep, mind locked in semi-dementia, she plays scare the bejesus out of the security guard with me as I make my occasional rounds through the quiet corridors. I’m walking along, thinking of music, or sex, or maybe calling Domino’s for a pizza. Minding my own business. She likes to meet around corners.
Did I call these hallways quiet? I guess usually they are. But I’ve told you before about the noises in the small hours of morning. The voices raised in whines and pleading. Other voices raised in cadenced prayer. Not in a language I can understand, it’s not English or Spanish or Portuguese. A Russian friend stopped by long enough to tell me it wasn't Russian, then left in a hurry. “I’ll tell you: better you here than me,” he said. “You couldn't pay me.” Well, he has a pension. I need the money. Besides, it’s just old people in the hell of senility.
What do people in hell pray for? I wonder in idle moments. Eight hours of idle moments, sitting in the lobby staring at a reinforced glass door locked against the outside world. I make my round, come back to sit and
stare again. Thinking about what waits around corners. Staring like her. But at least I blink.
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