So K-Ice decided he was going to be a home brewer. He did his research, collected materials, talked to friends who brew their own beer, the works.
I was skeptical. I have heard of home brewers who bring over their friends to taste these works of art, only to cause violent gastrointestinal reactions.
Well, it happened. Only not in the way that I had expected. The first batch, after many measurements, recordings, changings of the recipe, turned out fine.
The second batch, a stout, with plenty of molasses, was burbling happily away this evening, when POP! We hear a noise as we're sitting in our shared office. K-Ice identified it before I could, and ran into the kitchen. Before I could get there, I got a "Don't look!" Seconds later, it was, "Can you help?"
Sure enough the whole kit and kaboodle had exploded all over the kitchen. We're talking the same level of Gordie's "Barf-O-Rama" in "Stand By Me." Only it's not purple. It looked like the violent gastrointestinal illness I was expecting.
Except it's on the ceiling.