This is not a serious rum review, it’s more of a rum chat, just sayin’.
Having rum at 10 in the morning does not make you an alcoholic, it makes you a pirate, or so I like to tell myself. Not that I frequently drink before 10 AM, I think the last time might have been in Belize, and there were circumstances. Set your mind at ease though, the above picture and related activities happened around a much more sedate five o’clock in the afternoon. We are not savages, most of the time.
The gimlet… what a drink. It has many things I enjoy in a cocktail, gin, the taste of lime (sort of), an intriguing colour and the British Navy. It is also the only current exception to drinkskultur rule #5. Shaken together vigorously it is delightful, refreshing, crisp and packs quite a punch. In order for you to have one while reading this, yes I do insist, I’ll start with the recipe.
For all its surface simplicity, the gin & tonic, or G&T as most of the world calls it, is a storied and romantic drink. If you get past the sizeable evils of empire building, it conjures up images of adventurous and perspiring colonials in far away places, keeping a stiff and sweaty upper lip, while wearing tropical tuxedos or pith helmets and pretending they have not been exiled for some darkness of deed or birth. The more exotic corners of Victoria’s empire always had a roguish, if not outright anything goes, feel about them, and you probably did not become second deputy lieutenant governor of central Australia because of your breeding, brilliance, spotless record or scandal free life. The “A team” likely stayed in London.
It may come as a shock to the one British visitor of this blog, but Pimm’s is not universally well known. Not known at all in fact, even in this former corner of the Empire. I had to order it special just to get my hands on two bottles, I know right? Apparently however, it has been quite popular in New Orleans for decades, to the point that it is sometimes claimed as a purely local Big Easy drink. Cough, cough. Philistines. Cough.
TL;DR? Just drink it.
My americano
There’s no scuba diving in sight for the immediate future. I had the opportunity to go dive in a quarry, in Mohawk territory, but my bad social planning skills intervened. So instead of glorious but cold ass underwater vistas, brace yourselves for a short series on…. you know it , drinks, and probably some random thoughts to go with that.