From the time our fathers gave us our first beer, we have been mesmerized by the infamous brew. At one point in our lives, we realize we can probably make the stuff ourselves. For beer enthusiasts, that happens early in our careers.

We get a taste and we just can’t forget about it. Before long, we are trying to figure out how we can reconstruct it. It would be easier just to go buy what it was that turned us on so wildly. But, what would be the fun in that?

The thing is that when I was younger, I thought the perfect brewery was a huge warehouse with stills going on as far as the eyes could reach. A hundred different kinds of beers would be brewing at any one time. You could simply walk up with your mug and tilt the tap. Your favorite beer would pour out cold and ready to drink.

I have grown since then. But, fantasies still need to evolve with the person. They don’t just lie dormant for years until we are finally one hundred percent correct in our perceptions. Imagine if a brewery had about four stills and at each still were about four or five supermodels scantily dressed because of the heat coming off the stills.

Of course, the fantasy of being able to walk up to a still and pour myself a cold brew at any time is still a huge part of my dream. If that could happen, I would be most happy. Well, that and the supermodels walking around half dressed.

But now, I’ve developed completely. Everything is still in place. Only it’s more realistic. I have the supermodels sitting at the bar waiting patiently on us hero brew masters to let them know the latest batch is ready. It pours cool from the wall where the tap is now.

Behind the wall are three stills that have three distinct tasting beers. It depends on what time of year it is as to what we are brewing, but the tastes are always masterpieces of special blends our supermodels worship.

Now, that’s a fantasy. But seriously, I’m fine with my brewing setup just behind my home bar. It used to be the laundry room when I first built that extension for the house. But, I talked the Missus into putting the laundry room upstairs so that I could have that room to myself.

She objected at first. But, it makes so much sense. When we’re doing laundry, we take the clothes down the hall and do them there rather than going up and down the stairs. Plus, my small brewery is right behind my bar. I don’t have to go far either. Now if I were to say, that just might be fantasy enough for me.