Sweet deals on all meads!
SIDE-EYE MEADS:
FROM BLOSSOM TO BOTTLE:
When you pour a glass of Side-Eye Meads, you’re not just tasting mead—you’re tasting North Carolina in full bloom.
It all begins in my bee yards, where the air hums with the steady work of thousands of wings. My bees forage across the countryside, visiting the wildflowers that paint our seasons: the blush of Eastern Redbud in early spring, the soft maple blooms, the sweet carpets of clover, the delicate bells of blueberry, the fragrant blossoms of fruit trees, the wild tang of blackberry flowers, and the golden crowns of tulip poplar. Each bloom leaves its fingerprint on the honey, a whisper of the moment it was gathered.
I also harvest two of North Carolina’s most treasured honeys—Sourwood, with its smooth, buttery finish, and Basswood, bright with citrusy notes that dance on the tongue. These honeys are rare gifts from the land, and I treat them with the respect they deserve.
In the meadery, I blend these honeys with carefully balanced water and nutrients, then pair them with yeast selected to coax out the honey’s most vibrant flavors. Fermentation is a living process, and I give it the time it needs—tasting, adjusting, and listening as the mead develops its character. The air fills with a warm, floral sweetness that feels like standing in the middle of a summer meadow.
Every bottle of Side-Eye Meads is a piece of my heart, my land, and my bees’ tireless work. From the first blossom to the final pour, it’s a story of patience, care, and the belief that the best flavors come from honoring the journey.
When you raise your glass, you’re not just drinking mead—you’re sipping the seasons of North Carolina.
MEET BARRY
Barry? Oh, Barry’s the feathered heartbeat of Side‑Eye Meads—our resident beekeeper, honey‑whisperer, and dramatic lead in a saga that absolutely no one asked for but everyone seems to enjoy. With a single ruffle of his feathers and a perfectly timed side‑eye, he’ll tell you “honey, it’s all good”—even when the bees are staging their latest tiny rebellion, or when he’s convinced the hive is gossiping about his wing‑work. Barry’s adventures drift between the mellow and the melodramatic: daring negotiations with queen bees, theatrical swoons over golden comb, and the occasional existential crisis about whether a bird should really be this invested in honey. But that’s Barry—committed, chaotic, and always buzzing with new tales that somehow end in sweetness. Stick around, because every bottle carries another chapter of his honey‑soaked escapades.
