Solving a Problem, One Brew at a Time
Let’s be honest—COVID did a number on all of us. Who’s going to admit outright that the walls closed in during lockdown? That the daily routine felt like Groundhog Day with less variety and worse coffee? At one point, I’d drive past three supermarkets just to say I “went to the shops.” It felt like a jailbreak. Meanwhile, I lived five minutes away from a store. One day, it took me three hours just to get there. And even that small rebellion wasn’t enough to shake the restlessness. The boredom.
Then came prohibition.
And suddenly, a new underground economy bloomed—contacts who could get you “the good stuff,” slightly overpriced but worth it for the thrill. It felt like a covert mission every time someone passed along a bottle of wine or a six-pack. But let’s be real: that didn’t help the budget. It got me thinking—why not push my own boundaries, I have done the bread thing right, why not just make things myself? I had a granny that did some despicable wine when I grew up. Can do better than that. Man thinking back now that wine was horrible. She made me, ja sure, drink it. Anyone in my family that reads this will know what I’m talking about.
Enter: The Internet.
Turns out, there are thousands of brewing and distilling tutorials online. Equipment, ingredients, guides—you name it. And here’s the kicker: while liquor stores were shut tight, brewing supply shops were somehow considered “essential services.” You could buy grain and yeast, but not a six-pack. Gotta love bureaucracy.
There’s a certain irony in it. But here’s the deal: if you’re going to make everything yourself, you quickly realize you don’t have time for much else. It’s the new rule of life—what you can’t make, you buy. What you can’t buy, you barter. Simple economics. And COVID taught us all something very important: you really learn to appreciate what other people make for you.
Let me also bust a myth while we’re here—home brewing and distilling isn’t illegal, as long as it’s for personal use. That said, if someone wants to try regulating the bottle of fermented fruit juice bubbling away at the back of your fridge… good luck to them.
Back to the Basics (and Pineapple Beer)
Now, if you ever had the pleasure—or trauma—of drinking homemade pineapple beer during lockdown, you’ll know: if you could survive the first sip, you earned your stripes. That stuff had a personality.
It was around this time I started realizing there are two kinds of people in the world: those who want to make things, and those who just want to enjoy the end result. Turns out, I’m a maker. Some people would never dream of spending a month fermenting the perfect batch of beer. Others won’t even spend an hour baking bread. But I discovered I loved the process. The waiting, the tweaking, the satisfaction of tasting something I created from scratch.
Boredom Turned to Curiosity
One afternoon—driven half-mad by lockdown—I got into the car and went to the local brew shop. It wasn’t far, but the sense of purpose made it feel like an expedition.
Remember the days of 3M tape and “stand here” signs? The guy at the brew shop had it all laid out—tape measure in hand, markers spaced like sacred geometry. But let’s be real: customers still crowded in, masks slipping, muttering about dark vs. pale malt and yeast strains.
And this is when it hit me: brew shops are different. They’re not just retail spaces—they’re gathering places. People go there to talk, to compare notes, to share techniques. I realized quickly that if you walk into a brew shop, you’d better bring your curiosity—and your chat.
These are the kind of places where you overhear stories about 20-year-old family recipes, debates over mash temperatures, and arguments about the best sparging methods. Even now, long after the worst of the pandemic, that spirit is alive. You walk in, and you’re instantly part of something.
Learning the Lingo
At first, I had no clue what anyone was talking about. People threw around terms like mashing, sparging, OG, FG, ice crashing—what even is a hydrometer? But I was hooked.
Every brew shop is a mix of high-tech wizardry and DIY grit. Some folks have temperature-controlled stainless steel systems with all the bells and whistles. Others are old-school—just a bucket, a stove, and a lot of heart. Everyone has their method. Everyone has an opinion. And no one is shy about sharing it.
I dabbled on my own for a while, watching videos, experimenting, making lots of mistakes. Eventually, I took a proper course. I needed to find my footing—to figure out what part of the craft called to me most.
My Kind of People
A few years in, I can say without a doubt: these are my people. Brewers and distillers are an eccentric bunch—creative, passionate, sometimes a little off the wall. But always generous. You’ll meet the kind of personalities that don’t fit into boxes. The kind you want to have a drink with and learn from.
Of course, there’s the darker side too. Let’s not kid ourselves—this is an alcohol-producing trade. And that means you’ve got to know yourself. Set boundaries. Have self-awareness. If you don’t, the craft can bite back.
I always remember a tour we took at a chocolate factory. Staff could eat as much chocolate as they wanted, as long as they didn’t take any home. And guess what? They weren’t all overweight. The first week, sure—they probably overdid it. But eventually, the magic fades, and what’s left is discipline. Some probably left because their health couldn’t take it, but those who stayed became the quality gatekeepers. They knew when something was off—because they appreciated the difference between good and great.
Same goes for distilling.
Take Jack Daniel’s, for example. In the whole county where it’s made, alcohol consumption is banned. But inside the distillery? Controlled tastings. Discipline. Craftsmanship. When abundance is all around, the true craftsman chooses quality.
And trust me—after tasting ten barrels in an afternoon, the novelty wears off. You need to be clear-headed to make the hard calls. Like deciding to toss a batch that’s taken years to perfect, and thousands of Rands to produce. That kind of decision takes guts.
The Knowledge Is Out There
The great thing about this journey? You’re never alone. YouTube became my best friend. One of my go-to channels is Chase the Craft—Jesse does a brilliant job blending knowledge with entertainment. He makes distilling feel accessible, not intimidating.
There are so many resources out there. Forums. Blogs. Communities. But nothing beats connecting with local brewers and distillers. These folks are fountains of knowledge, and they love sharing. They’ll show you their equipment, let you taste their latest creation, and talk your ear off about what they’re experimenting with next.
Celebrate the Craft, Protect the Standard
Here’s my challenge: support your local brewers and distillers. Celebrate what they do. Appreciate their process, their obsession with detail, their love for flavor.
But also—be discerning. Don’t just settle for what’s on the shelf. Not all “craft” products are made with care. Some are rushed, full of shortcuts, and dressed up with fancy labels. That’s not true craft.
I’ll admit—I don’t have the most refined palate in the world. But even I can taste when something’s been done right. Or when it’s been done cheap.
So be picky. Be honest about what you like. And don’t be afraid to explore. Your palate is your own—train it, trust it, and let it lead you on an adventure.