Rosmerta; goddess of abundance and fertility (rosmertiae) wrote in history_dot_com, @ 2012-07-09 18:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~bes, ~rosmerta |
The Fruits of Our Labors [Brussels, Belgium, 1911 C.E.] (tag: Bes)
The Industrial Revolution had irrevocably changed Rosmerta's duties, and sometimes she pondered whether it was for the better or not. True, modern machinery did make it much easier for farmers to do their work, from growing to harvesting to even the invention of a mechanical butter churner. That last one would definitely save some sore arms. But as more things became mechanized, more people moved away from the family farm, and the definition of abundance became less about the actual growing and producing of the things that would keep a family well fed and clothed, and more about acquiring the wealth that could be used to buy those things that someone else made. Business became more about counting coins than counting newborn lambs in the spring. Sometimes, Rosmerta felt like she was being pulled in two different directions when she tried to do her job.
And sometimes, everything came together in a perfect, harmonious blend. That was what had happened with the Lindemans family. Not the sorts to sit on their hands, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, during the winter months the family decided to take some of the product of their lands and create a lambic, a Belgian beer. In 1809, they began trading it with their neighbors, and by 1811, they had built an official brewery and began selling their potable commercially. Since then, they had continued to develop their product, beautifully blending both the farming and the business aspects in such a way that Rosmerta wanted to do a happy dance of triumph. This was exactly the sort of thing she loved and wanted to see for her people. Not to mention, it was pretty damn good beer.
Now, at the century mark, they were having a celebration and Rosmerta couldn't resist stopping by to join in the festivities. She'd watched this family long enough that she felt as though she knew them, but they'd think she was a crazy woman if she just went up and hugged them in congratulations. Their future prospects, whether they knew it or not, were going to do quite well. They had the blessing of a goddess of fertility and abundance, and she adored them for what they were doing with both.
The area outside the brewery, which was actually still on the family farm though the house had been moved for privacy, was filled with canvas tents, and the tents were filled with booths. There were food and games, and the entire thing had the feel of a county fair. And of course, of course, there was the beer. But lambic was very distinctive and different than most other beers. It was a more natural fermentation process, and involved a lot of open air: the yeast was introduced via the air rather than deliberately added, and even after being barreled the brew was not capped. Hops were used for preservation, rather than flavor, so the result was a dry, sour beer that had a taste more similar to wine than other beers. Rosmerta loved the uniqueness.
In celebration, not only was the lambic being sold in it's usual form, there were also sweetened versions. Some sweetened with brown sugar, but a vast array sweetened with fruit, or fruit syrups. Thus far, Rosmerta had managed to get sour cherry and a peach. Her eye kept wandering between the apple, the raspberry, and the plum flavors. Perhaps she should get something to eat before having another glass though. There was that lovely stall selling the frituur , potato strips fried in oil, served with a garlic aioli sauce. That had smelled fantastic. A cone of frituur and maybe one of the sausages on a roll.
Rosmerta turned, preparing to find that stand again, and smacked right into somebody. “Oof!”