When I was growing up, my Grandfather always had a couple of vintages of his homemade Elderberry Wine aging in oak barrels in the cellar. My father would tell stories of he and his buddies laying on their backs, opening the spigots for each other, and hoping “Pa” didn’t come home too soon. The idea of carrying on the tradition of Elderberry Wine led me to what I believe to be the obvious conclusion of ...

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