Cock Ale: A Good Idea Gone SO Wrong

Like so many things in this life, this idea began with a bucket. An empty bucket, mind you. It was in this perfectly innocent bucket that Old Ken would begin an experiment, an erstwhile wedding gift, and ultimately an environmental disaster. But one thing at a time.

A little backstory is necessary here: as you know if you are one of the maybe five people in the world who ever looks at this little trifle of a blog, yours truly was named for a debonair, swashbuckling bon vivant of a seventeenth century experimental philosopher—the man, the legend: Sir Kenelm Digby. As you may also recall, Sir Kenelm liked to cook. And, in a life with ample time devoted to the pleasures of the flesh, he amassed an impressive cookbook. Now, among the amazing recipes enclosed therein is one I have always wanted to try to make. Note, please, that I did not say "try" as in imbibe, because the recipe itself is for cock ale.

Cock ale: that means ale with cock in it. So, having a wedding to attend and needing to find a gift, Old Ken thought: "What better time could there be to try out this delicious recipe?" But, first, I needed some ingredients.

A trip down to the CostCutter supplied me with the cheap ale I would need.Somewhat more difficult to come by in South East London was a fresh cock. But, a shop in Chinatown in Soho provided this chicken (which I was willing to guess would be good enough). Please feel free, I should note parenthetically, to send along any bird flu jokes you might have heard. I have only a punchline and no joke, so please help me out.

Back to business, though. Now, I hear you saying: "Fair enough, Old Ken. But how do I get from ale and a chicken to cock ale?" Well, see, that's where the bucket comes in.
What you need to do now is put the cock in the bucket and then pour the ale on top of it. And I mean all of that delicious, succulent ale—don't be stingy! Finally, feel free to add a few cloves and cinnamon sticks. For the flavor, of course.



From here, you'll need to have access to a roof (preferably a flat one) and about two months' time to let the concoction brew.



Depending on your palate, it is at this point that cock ale either begins to get extremely tasty or threatens not only environing humanoid life but the rats, raccoons and cockroaches it might have attracted. For, even as you begin to move the bucket down from the roof, you may notice some highly pungent smells emanating from beneath the air-tight seal.



Once you have removed the tin foil, you may be surprised to see just how much the flesh of the chicken has decomposed. Indeed, it looks something like a chicken soup. Well, it would except for the thick layer of maggots floating on the putrid surface. The next task is to "pluck out the cock and throw him away," so Sir Kenelm tells us.



Done and done.



The next stage is a little tricky because you want to pour off the cock ale into the kind of bottle from which you will be drinking it on hot summer days but without spilling the precious contents down the side. Careful!



Finally, once you have transferred the fruits of your labor into proper receptacles, you can retrieve your cloves and cinnamon sticks from the bottom of the bucket. I see no problem with reusing them in other dishes (ideally, lightly flavored cakes, custards or biscuits where the musky savour of cock ale would really add that je-ne-sais-quoi).



When all is said and done, just hold the cock ale up to the light (well, make sure you're upwind from it) and admire its variegated colors and textures. Ideally, the maggots will not still be wriggling. Once you have finished with that, find a large dumpster and put all the cock ale in it. Then, remove your clothes and burn them.