Cachaçaria!

I rise just before six. Glad I was a good boy and in bed by eleven last night.

I'm downstairs breakfasting by 6:15. Usual drill, usual food. With lots of coffee. Really lots of coffee.

A breakfast of scrambled egg, cheese, ham, orange juice and coffee.

I had a weird dream that I was dead, but still floating around the world. Most people couldn’t see me and kept sitting on me in the tram. It was an unsettling feeling being unseen and irrelevant. No-one’s interested in the opinions of dead people. What could it mean? That I ate too much meat last night?

Not wanting to risk missing the 7:30 bus from Hotel Blumenhof, I get an Uber at 6:50. Which gets me there not long after 7. Giving me time for another coffee. Exactly what I need, given the early start.

I sit with Pete. He, Amy and Mike Hall are going over to Blumenau to meet people at the other contest. Which, crazily, overlaps with the competition here.

"Say hi to Gordon Strong for me."

The bus sets off about on time. I sit next to Tina Rogers at the front where there's a bit more legroom.

Once we're off the motorway, the countryside becomes denser. Paddy fields lap against forested valley banks, trembling with trees in a symphony of green. Slopes stubbed with stands of short sugar cane. Very appropriate, given our destination.

Young sugar cane with trees in the background.

Destilaria Rech is our destination. Wedged into a steep valley with sugar cane slopes.

The owner shows us around. After first warning us to cover our flesh with insect repellent. Now there's reassuring.

"I'm glad I had a yellow fever vaccination a couple of years back." I quip to Tina.

We kick off in the building that houses both the fermenting vessels and the stills. Various stages of fermentation can be seen. Violently erupting and almost still. It's kept between 30 and 34 C, which is the optimal fermentation for the flavour profile they prefer. It smells like banana bread.

A copper still at Rech.

One still is running and clear spirit is spilling out like water from a tap. I’m tempted to stick my finger into the flow.

Spirit flowing from the still at Rech.

Next up is the vat room. With vats both varying in size and material. Several different woods have been used. Just about everything except oak Which is interesting. Aririba is the most common. Though quite a few are grapia. No idea what either of those woods are.

Our host explains that they didn’t originally market any of their products themselves, selling them onto third parties who put on their own labels. In recent years, however, they’ve been building up their own brands. Currently 60% is white label, 40% their own. 

A large barrel, made of an exotic wood, at Rech.

We finish in the barrel room. Where casks are stacked from floor to ceiling. This is also where the tasting occurs.

Starting with clear, unaged cachaça. Which is incredibly fruity. The golden version is rounder and smoother. Then we get to the good stuff, starting with 5-year-old. Follwed by one aged in cinnamon wood. Which is intensely spicy. As you would expect.

A barrel at Rech.

We progress with a couple which have been sequentially barrel aged. That is, starting in a barrel of one wood, then transferred to a cask made of another wood. These are incredibly complex, vanilla and spices dancing around the tongue.

Wagner, who doesn't want to drink too much, generously lets me finish his samples. What a great bloke. I’m only too happy to help him out.

We repair to the shop, where bottles are out for us to pour our own samples. The really posh barrel-aged ones are quite expensive: 30 to 50 euros. I get 2 silver, a gold and a 5 year. Together they come to around 30 euros. The robbing bastards. One of the silvers is for hotel drinking. As I've just about polished off the cheapo vodka.

Booze bought, it's back on the bus. We stop at a petrol station to get some scran. One meat and one cheese empanada for me. Not bad, but could have done with more filling. Too dry.

The Faroeste brewery we visit next is also out in the countryside. You can tell from the smell of cow shit. Which is sort of appropriate, given the cowboy theme of the place. Is it real or a clever mood-setter?

Faroeste taproom shed.

We grab ourselves beers and take seats for a presentation. The early start and the cachaça samples have taken their toll, and I nod off, dropping my phone. Pull yourself together, Ron.

There’s a quick spin around the brewery. Which doesn’t take long, as it’s pretty compact. Some of the judges buy a beer from the taproom shed in front of the brewery. I just top up my plastic cup with more of the free IPA. I get a taste of the paid-for Catharina Sour. It’s very good. Though not superior enough to the IPA to validate forking out cash.

I'm having a great time. A distillery and a brewery today. Full of free cachaça, I fall asleep on the bus on the way back.

It's around four when I'm roused from my slumber and dropped off at my hotel. Feeling totally knacked, I nip to the petrol station to get a couple of sarnies and a big bag of crisps. Carefully noting the production date of the former. Some sandwiches are a few days old.

It's the awards ceremony tonight I'm not going for a couple of reasons. It will be dead loud. There will be no seats. And the leftover competition beers will be a total lottery when it comes to quality.

I'm also knacked and want an early night. I don't even write up today. Instead watching some YouTube while sipping cheapo vodka and coke.

I turn in at 9. Not because I need to get up early. I don’t. But because I’m knacked and want to have a good, long sleep. Some cheapo vodka helps me get there.



Destilaria Rech
R. Roberto Rech, 904
Baixo Canoas,
Luiz Alves
SC, 89128-000.


Cervejaria Faroeste Beer
R. Serafim Gamba, 6050
Brilhante I,
Itajaí
SC, 88318-260.


Disclaimer: my hotel and some meals in Balneário Camboriú were paid for Concurso Brasiliero de Cervejas.