Five short Vignette’s on the efficacy Booze. Question at the end…
Beer: AH yes the royal we, the affluent hopy friend of mine called beer. Those of us who enjoy a glass or a tin understand the same folkways and mores of being sottish. Whether the six pac’l do ya or the wondrous taste of cool Canadian Unabraue is your favorite we all love the premier form called beer.
Wine: Savez-vous le vin? We now arrive in the realm of Dionysus. The Greek God of wine. You must love the wine. It treats us like royalty…with dignity and respect. Whether you enjoy a plastic cup of Arbor Mist or a statuesque glass of the Jordan Vertical 1993,4,5 we all know the effect, the dizzing wonder of a tanin mixing with our neurons. I will share a glass with anyone, wine is a universal conversationalist. One can break any barrior and trounce any formidable bad thought with the gratifying, gratuitous, grape.
Gin: In this juicy, juniper, jungle we find guarded by the Saffire Beefeater. This blue bonanza of a berry packs quite a kick for the weak of the knees. Take caution with this elixir of the mind, if you do not possess the particular juniper node in your cerebrum I recommend you steer clear of this beverage. Gin is assigned a love hate relationship with its host or hostess. You either can not get enough or the slightest hint is unbearable. In all this bouquet of berry and flower is a must for the lady and gentleman whom desire to separate themselves from the pack.
Vodka: We walk through the valley in the shadow of potatoes to investigate this Prussian delicacy. Wither rice or spud we love this drinky of fashionable stature. Absolutely fabulous, everyone can allow a tale or two of a good night of Vodka consumption. Those who can’t shant. Whether Bellvedere is your butler or Smirnoff is your Russian maid vodka is an aquired adventure and should be taken with orange juice or vermouth and never with milk. Enjoy this sottish fettish and you will soon understand why God made the Martini-glass tall and wide.
Single Malt Scotch: Last never Least. A week ago my red friend Johnnie Walker introduced me to a Scotchman named Glenn. We spoke and drank and snifted through the afternoon talking about linage and coats of arms. Mr.Glenn Kinchie showed us (my snifter and I) all the family names on the linage list. Cousins if you will with odd eccentric names such as first cousin Dalwhinnie his brother Cragganmore and sister Talisker and her new son Lagavulin and his pet bear Oban. We sat in jest all afternoon and into the evening imbibing this light brown concoction then I formally left after my checkmate and bid goodnight to my friend Glenn.
These are the kings and queens for the most affluent of sots and should be respected to the highest power and never abused to the point of physical disintigration. And one quick aside before I depart, the cacti family was left out because of the continuing clouded feeling I get after I Patron-ize the idea of Marguarita’s. Comments and scenerios are welcome…Also, What is the oldest Scotch that can still be bought?
Best Wishes just the same…