Sam could appreciate a scientific curiosity. Or maybe the opportunity to be the smartest one in the room. Or both. There was always room for 'both' in her life. At any rate, she gestured to a pot on the stove. "You make a potato and water mash in there," she said. "Basically, just mashed potatoes without any flavoring. But then add yeast cultures." Barley would have been better, but beggars and choosers and all that. "After it ferments, you put it through the distillation process." Her finger traced the path of her jenky-ass still.

Chemistry wasn't Sam's favorite science. But there was a poetry to it. Almost as nice as the poetry of genetics.

"You need to get the heat up to 170. If you can get about one to three drips per second, you're doing something right. Just need to be careful because the first few drops are usually pure methanol."