LITTLE ROCK — Some people think shame is a useless emotion. But shame, like tequila, in moderation, has its place. We ought to be self aware enough to understand that we don’t always behave like the people we want to be; insofar as shame impels us to strive to do better, it is a force for good.
But we should never allow others the power to make us feel bad about what are essentially matters of style and taste. And we should always be suspicious of marketing - especially liquor marketing, where price is often set not by production costs or even demand but by a manufacturer’s desire to project a certain image. It generally costs no more to produce a“top-shelf” spirit than it does a humbler brand. Blind taste tests suggest that the drinking public responds more to bottle aesthetics than any perceptible difference in flavor or purity. Some palates are highly refined, but a lot of drinkers can’t tell whether they’re drinking Scotch or bourbon.
This column has always been alert to the potential for snobbery in the drinking classes; our attitude is that you should drink what you want to. We keep box wine (go to blooddirtangels.com for a chance to win a Boxxle dispenser for bag-in-box wines) as well as Evan Williams in our arsenal. While I love Grand Marnier, I’ve found a cheaper substitute I love just as well. I enjoy a lot of pricey spirits, but I make more Manhattans with Jim Beam’s popularly priced Red Stag cherry-flavored bourbon than with the traditional rye. (I tried Evan Williams’ Cherry Reserve, which is a buck or two cheaper, but found it too candy-ish.)
Suspecting that most experienced drinkers have guilty pleasures, I asked a few friends what was the “worst” thing that they drank and how they would defend drinking it. Then I put the question on my Facebook page. I didn’t want anything Charles Bukowski might find pathetic, no stories about drinking hairspray or prison julep (take sugar, fruit, yeast and water and let it stand someplace warm fora few days), but practical information about booze that, for whatever reason, has a bad rap. I promised my correspondents anonymity, if they wanted, and some took me up on it. Unless they specifically gave me permission to use their name, I didn’t. Here are some of their stories.
Paul Bowen, writer, “retired” barrister and person of interest:
“Last Christmas, my brother Dave gave me a pint of Fighting Cock bourbon along with some beer brewed in Springfield, Mo., where he lives. I asked the sensible question, ‘What in the hell are you doing with this stuff?’ After all, the last bottle of Fighting Cock I had seen was in a liquor store over by the dog track in West Memphis. Anyway, Dave said he found it in his car as he was unloading Christmas presents. This would not be particularly believable coming from most people. But my brother Dave is the same guy that found a pistol in the trunk of his car five Thanksgivings ago. So I took him at his word.
“Naturally, we opened it and poured ourselves each a glass. And you know what? It was pretty damn good. It was nice and smooth with just enough burn to let you know that you were drinking 103 proof whiskey. It’s no Knob Creek. But it is far more domesticated than you would expect out of booze one can imagine finding in Michael Vick’s wet bar. And at 20 bucks or so for a 750 ml bottle packs a lot of bang for the buck.”
Greg Benenati, curator of Rufus’ Food and Spirits Guide (rufusguide.wordpress.com) :
“There are many types of alcoholic beverages I’ve tried that were terrible, but I would never defend drinking them again. I will say that sake could be the exception. Most sake you get at any Japanese restaurant is out of a box, heated past its good point and fairly [lousy] tasting. Yet I always get at least one giant carafe every time and even though I know the difference between good sake and bad, unlike bad liquor or beer or wine, I will enjoy drinking it. I think this is due to the experience of eating sushi and any sake, even bad sake, still tastes better than any other alcohol with the food.”
Don McCormick, author of Cookbook, the greatest micro-published cookbook ever written:
“My days of drinking truly frightening booze (moonshine from Tennessee, Louisiana and West Virginia, Taaka vodka, Heaven Hill green, Crystal Springs punch and off-market grappa spring to mind) were more a part of my formative years. My spirit of choice for the last few years has been Gordon’s gin, which I find to be completely acceptable, although it is much better frozen (stored in the freezer) than chilled (cooled with ice), especially for martini preparation purposes. While price point led me to Gordon’s, my decision-making isn’t entirely due to my innately thrifty nature. I will not drink Fleischmann’s gin or Seagram’s, both of which are cheaper than Gordon’s …. I’m also not brand loyal - I find Gordon’s vodka to be disturbingly unpalatable, a mystery since vodka is required by law to consist of pure grain alcohol and distilled water, both of which must be chemically pure.
“Note also that gin itself is a deep compromise on my part. My spirit of choice is Scotch but there is no such thing as drinkable cheap Scotch and, as John Boehner can tell you, sometimes you have to compromise some of your most cherished ideals in the name of fiscal sustainability. Switching from Scotch to gin may have been my personal budget sequestration, but if I win the lottery or publish a novel I’m switching to single malts. ”
Karen Martin, faithful sidekick:
“St. Brendan’s Irish Cream Liqueur, a knockoff of Baileys Irish Cream, is a sweet, smooth addition to brandies, whiskies, bourbons, coffee and desserts. Baileys is too expensive to keep around on a regular basis and the Starbucks coffee cream liqueur that I fell in love with didn’t stay on the market very long. St. Brendan’s is reasonably priced (it’s often on sale, especially around winter holidays), it doesn’t separate and it doesn’t have a sorry-looking label as do some other cream liqueurs - notably Fulton’s Harvest Pumpkin Spice. Slainte!”
And then there’s this, from a “high-ranking government official” who demanded anonymity:
“This isn’t exactly what you asked for, nevertheless: While experimenting with the equation of ‘how much is too much?’ while a college student in New Orleans, I was refused service in a French Quarter bar (how ‘faced’ must one be?). After some verbal exchanges, I left under duress, but not before I reached over and grabbed the closest bottle available to take with me. I can only tell you that a rude and crude young man sitting on a French Quarter sidewalk drinking a bottle of creme de menthe evokes a very weird vibe.”
On the Facebook page, various people championed Carlo Rossi’s Sangria (I’m partial to their Paisano), cinnamon schnapps, Canadian Mist (‘‘cheap, but it ain’t junk’’), Southern Comfort and Dr Pepper, all manner of cheap beers from Pabst Blue Ribbon to Bud Light Lime and “those mixed drinks in little plastic balls with things like margaritas and pina coladas in them. They are only about 5 ounces, but pack a wallop of something like 26 percent alcohol … guilty pleasure while anchored out at the lake and floating about!”
One female correspondent also allowed that the over-application of limocello, which I’ve never thought of as a particularly downmarket concoction, can “result in waking up off the Piazza San Marco zipped up in a suitcase,wearing men’s underwear … ” which is a little bit off topic but charming in its way. Or at least nothing to be ashamed of.
E-mail: [email protected] blooddirtandangels.com
Style, Pages 51 on 03/03/2013