People who don't rejoice in a riot of dandelions blooming yellow across a yard either live in a place that doesn't have winter, or don't have souls. Seriously,

People who don't rejoice in a riot of dandelions blooming yellow across a yard either live in a place that doesn't have winter, or don't have souls. Seriously, what could be more joyful than the brilliant, saturated yellow of dandelions coming up as a celebration of spring? I would also add that dandelion wine is probably about one of the easiest wines to make at home. You use a lot of sugar, so you've got a pretty predictable must, and you let it do its thing. You'll want to ferment it in something with a lot of headspace. The petals trap the escaping carbon dioxide and rise up bringing the mist with them. It'll messily overflow if you haven't made an allowance for this. My partner and I are pretty lousy brewers, but we've made a couple outstanding batches of dandelion wine. It's got a little bit of bitter and a little bit of pepper, and on a winter evening, it's a reassuring reminder that spring will return and bring its celebration of life and color. Roll the head between your thumb and finger to separate the petals from the green sepals.