The meadery, Enlightenment Wines, is three blocks south, across the tracks of the New York and Atlantic Railway, past graffitied walls, amid the rumble of box trucks and forklifts busily crisscrossing the neighborhood, facing two vacant industrial Quonset huts, on Scott Avenue. This is somewhere in the cleavage of Williamsburg and Bushwick, perilously close to Queens.
A meadery produces mead, which is honey wine. Humans have been drinking the stuff since at least 7,000 years before Christ performed his oenological miracle in Galilee. The ancient quaff exists thanks to fermentation: a chain of chemical reactions involving glucose, fructose, pyruvate decarboxylase, carbon dioxide and—at last—ethanol. That’s the good stuff. It’s a far more pleasant bit of chemistry than what roils in the creek a stone’s throw north. —Oliver Roeder