Word: brewings
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...Most of the women are just like me, scared," she says. There is a quiet murmur as the women-of all outlooks and incomes -huddle with their friends. A young man in blue jeans nervously opens a bag of coffee grounds and, thinking it is instant coffee, tries to brew a cup. His long-haired girlfriend sits motionless near by, her face blank. ABORTION CAN BE LONELY, reads a wall poster. From a loudspeaker comes the Beatles' Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. At intervals a small child cries out for his mother...
...shining, the quarter is almost over and an enterprising band of seniors at the University of California at Davis is merrily quaffing homemade ale amidst the beakers and burners of a science lab. But wait. One of them is throwing his brew down the nearest sink. Has the ale addled his head? Have the suds gone stale...
...brew crew spends its days monitoring the spigots of a miniature brewery that looms like some Rube Goldberg creation in their Cruess Hall lab. After breaking down 20 commercial beers chemically, the students then create their own original product. Fruits of this term's efforts: a barley wine, a dark German-type beer and a low-carbohydrate model. But both state laws and college custom decree that all potions be discarded after taste tests. "Sentence one, day one: there will be no abuses," says Microbiologist Michael Lewis, a ruddy-faced Welshman who has taught the course since...
...eyeballs in a new style, known generally as progressive country, or more correctly, up-country. His comrade pickers'n' grinners were also his best friends, people like John Prine, Steve Goodman, and Jerry Jeff Walker. Like Buffett, they all added their own carbonations to the flat brew of country music: Prine his Appalachian hillbilly twang, Goodman his Chicago blues, Walker just all-out Texas boozing. What they did was blow out the earnest country cliches with fond parodies ("You Don't Have to Call Me Darlin', Darlin', But You Never Even Call Me By My Name"), rocking mockers ("Up Against...
...hours I bought somewhere between 40 and 50 cans of beer (with collected funds, of course). The geek behind the counter loved it. I told him I was the human keg. The M.P. knew, though, but didn't do anything about it. As long as I bought the brew, they could drink it. Uncle Sam moves in mysterious ways...