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current meager line up, sorry for chopped onions in the background, it was taco time
a friend of a friend made this for me...apple cider moonshine, tastes like a ******* apple pie, incredibly potent, drank a small mason jars worth and felt like I'd experience head trauma. Awesome. And yes thats' a little heirloom apple floating in there.
a different friend got me this for my birthday.
anyone who knows me (or follows my instagram feed) knows that I consume enough craft beer to be considered by some to be kind of an alcoholic), right now I am very depleted but I've been saving this bad boy for a minute.
edit: oh god the corona case is visible in that last picture. I can explain I swear! one of my roommates was on tour with his band and we had a frenchman from versaille staying with us...he drank corona. :foo:
i only know two things, one time this fellow opened a bottle of wine he found in his cellar (he owns a vineyard in Port-Vendres). It dated back to 1904. The sweetest aroma of intoxication filled the entire back yard, masking even the steaks that were on the grill. I passed out...
the second thing is that you may have just excluded all the white folks
Does anyone have recommendations on a good brand of bitters?
NO,
We are not gentlemen. We are not dapper. And although some of us may sport a mustache, we are not particularly sober. While we enjoy the occasional speakeasy, we do not need a three-ring-circus involving a bow tie and suspenders to have a good time. Although our favorites range from the oh-so-trendy Last Word to the ever-appropriate French 75, we will drink everything from jungle juice to Jura's Prophecy and Pappy's finest Winkle, occasionally in the same evening. We can be found at dive bars and on dance floors, lounging on rooftop terraces and at poolside bars, as the life of the party or the alluring wallflower.
Ungentlemen, this is where we discuss the drinks that we drink, without the stigma of snobbery attached to us, without the cloud of judgement and classicism that now hovers over many a formerly decent cocktail establishment. We go to bars. We hang out. We shoot the ****. We like a good bartender, and we like a good drink. Some of us like a lot of olives. We may know how to mix a damn good cocktail, but it very often involves more sloshing than measurement, because that is how life works. If our friend does not know how to make us a Dry Martini, an Old Fashioned, or even a Sazerac, we do not snub them. We make it for them, we toast them, and we toast ourselves. Repeatedly. Because there is no time for that sort of bullshit. We appreciate both restriction and moderation. We do not **** around with our booze.
What we do not do is bro out. We do not take shots of jaeger from the ice luge, though we can accept that, on some occasions, this is both proper and enjoyable. Perhaps if we were still in our teens we would find it enjoyable as well. It is, however, not discussed here. Nor are Irish Car Bombs, Flaming Doctor Peppers, or any stories beginning "This one time, when I was drunk." We will instead opine on microbrews, both foreign and domestic, wax ever-so-slightly philosophical on peaty Scottish drams, and discuss the relative perks of local gins. But we will do so with the open arms of the Streetwear Brotherhood, and we will educate. The foundation of all knowledge is the recognition that we know nothing.
Pictures and recipes (vague or otherwise) are always welcome.