My roommates made beer in our college dorm way back when (who didn't). It tasted terrible, but I don't think we cared. My landlord's husband makes beer every few months, but his methods for making anything at all are incredibly dubious, so I haven't worked up the steel to try any. Here's the conversation we had last time I stopped by their place: ME: "Hey Sean, I, uh, brought the rent, uh, the rent check..." SEAN (sees me staring at the giant open bowl of ground meat on dirty kitchen table): "Thanks. Oh, that? We're making sausage. Lots of sausage. ME: "...Huh." SEAN (sees me staring at the black cat that's jumped up on the table and is now eating directly from the giant open bowl of ground meat): "That Felix. He loves his sausage."
And I think that's what they mean when they say "you don't want to know how the sausage is made."