While David is never anything but supportive of my creative endeavors, I tend to greet his project ideas with what can best be described as bemused tolerance. So when he proposed to make brandy from the bumper crops of pears we found in Vermont last fall, I said “That’s nice sweetie,” and assumed we’d be dumping the 8 gallons of cider after they’d sat in our fridge for 9 months. Despite my lack of enthusiasm he managed to pull it off. And it smells amazing — sweet and spicy and just like fall.
Bravo monkey! Keep proving me wrong.