Sauntering Vaguely Downward

One of my dearest friends organised a virtual bourbon-tasting evening for me and another friend last night.

Below are some unattributed notes. For those familiar with all three of us [the other two used to keep LJs, donkey's years ago], you can probably guess which persons are responsible for which.


Nose: "This is exactly like the pine air freshener from the '80s. The ones that came on the tree-shaped cards."

Palate: "I've added orange soda. *sips* Ah. I've turned it into washing-up liquid."

Finish: "What did you write?" "I put 'grateful it's over'."
Nose: "Vanilla, with notes of eye-burning."

Palate: "This tastes much better than it smells." Also: "This is bar bourbon, not home bourbon."

Finish: "If I met it in the morning, I might not like it as much." "Not for taking up to the hotel room, then."


"Hang on. I can't pour."
"Is that quantity, or glass-targeting?"
"Both."

...because red wine is the best drink to accompany zombie and vampire films, natch.) Pardon me, this is just me noodling about a film that came out six years ago. Most people probably saw the trailer and went either, “A zombie film; no thanks, I’ll pass” or “ZOMG cutest zombie film EVAR!”

I concur with the latter; Warm Bodies is sweet, funny, has an amazing soundtrack and is an obvious homage to Romeo and Juliet apart from the happily-ever-after ending; the names of the lead characters are “R” and Julie. R saves Julie from the other zombies, and in turn, Julie saves R from being a zombie by literally awakening his heart. His resurrection is infectious: the other zombies who haven’t been completely lost by becoming “bonies” also experience it. There’s even a charmingly awkward balcony scene. It’s a feel-good film, and being a soppy perkygoth romantic, I love watching it.

But there’s a bit of a sting in the tail, because I also can’t help overthinking it. In the beginning, the zombies are all “others” to the uninfected humans, whether they’re bonies or R-analogues. In the conclusion, the “others” are divided into two categories. The R-analogues are others who can be re-integrated by assimilation (and, er, not dining on brains any more). The bonies are irredeemable and must be shot in the head. Inevitably, I see a parallel with immigration: between acceptable immigrants, who have the resources, skills, and sufficient cultural adaptability to become part of a society, and those who don’t and therefore must be excluded.

I think this is one of the reasons the zombie concept is so appealing. It allows for a very soothing simplification of otherness, by giving human-shaped others a characteristic so repugnant, eating the living and turning them into zombies/others, that it is not difficult to justify their murder. It’s uncomplicated, comforting, and unrealistic.

And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to finish this glass of wine and enjoy the shower/make-up scene soundtracked to M83’s “Midnight City”, because I refuse to let an excess of analysis spoil my enjoyment.

One of my birthday-related activities way back in September was to forage a big pile of damsons and apples, and stick them in a Kilner jar with a load of sugar and vodka.

This is what it looked like on the day those things were first combined:


And this is what it looked like after three months of being stashed in a dark cupboard, plus a small amount decanted into a glass skull:


I don't know if it is as satisfying as quaffing the blood of your enemies, but it certainly is delicious. Will definitely add to the annual sloe gin manufacturing ritual.

The holidays have arrived.

We are in the front room watching bad telly, having just spent the past three hours wrapping presents and bickering over the sellotape dispenser. I am tucking into a bottle of prosecco and a bag of wasabi peas. It's going to be all right.

I asked for rhubarb gin as my birthday presents, and my siblings-out-law delivered. Well, Amazon Prime did the delivery but the sibs, bless them, believe me when I say I desire something, and thus ordered exactly what I wanted.

Cue receiving two types of rhubarb-and-ginger gin. Please forgive the quality of the photos. I'd been drinking, you see.


From one set of out-laws: Jawbox Small Batch Rhubarb & Ginger Gin Liqueur and a fancy gin glass. The cocktail contains ice cubes, soda water, and a small piece of crystallised ginger. It was lovely.


From the other set of outlaws: Whitley Neill Rhubarb & Ginger Gin. The cocktail contains ice cubes, soda water, and ajika salt. Ajika is a Georgian/Abkhaz spice. We call it "crack salt", as everything savoury that you sprinkle it on instantly becomes 100x more edible. Anyway, it may sound a peculiar thing to put in a cocktail, but it was the perfect complement to this gin.

One other exciting occurrence was buying a Kilner jar and foraging a big lot of perfectly ripe damsons with the children. Then going home, putting all the damsons in the jar and submerging them in sugar and vodka, along with a bit of pear and apple. This should be ready to drink around Christmas time.


I know I'm getting old when making my own liqueurs from foraged fruit is a highlight of my birthday!