My colleagues and friends, we have occasion to celebrate. The very laws of nature are at my beck and call. Man tries in all his endeavours to reach the peaks I now enjoy, and just in time for summer too.
It turns out it all so devlishly simple. I’ve found a process that purifies a certain alcohol in to a neutral liquor. A neutral liquor which needs no re-distillation, dilution, or concentration. From there a genuine plethora of possibilities exist. My choice? I gathered the appropriate reagents to create that most rewarding of all the everyman’s tinctures, gin. In short, I turned a cheap, impure, disgusting vodka into a refreshing liquid breeze with nothing more than my own ingenuity and some cheesecloth. These are heady times indeed. If one can make their own gin, why then one can set any number of flavors to their own craft liquors, and well then that does it. Also, one cannot live in Chicago’s storied history and not make your own alcohol. No bootleg whiskey yet but I’m also not in the business of blinding myself.
Quality Testing:
1. Appearance. Not quite there. It’s a tad green/yellow, like very slightly off putting water. I was aware of this during the process, and have an idea of which component did this. All in all still a work in progress.
2. Odor. By jove, that’s it! Takes me back to days of yore. And war.
3. Taste. Now that I’ve got my senses stirring, it’s time to go the distance. The gin drinkers stand-by is the martini. I prefer mine a tad below as dry as possible. I’m looking for a true telling of the gin’s flavor profile. Simple coat of vermouth on the glass. Used a thin line of lemon zest over the customary onion. Bombs away. Hmmm. Yes tha’s th’real thing. In fact, I would put it above the cheaper stuff. In your mouth it is almost like the parent, tasteless, but on the way down, the bouquet really hits but not in the stingy way, as the generic stuff does, but just a crisp feeling that you get all over.
Well enough fawning over my own concoctions. If it were enough for me to declare success right here and now I would, but I need the approval of others. Need it. So come on and drink with me. I owe you one anyway.
In my youth I attended a function where someone gave me a gin drink mixed with lager called by some obscure french name long forgotten but not the experience. The intoxication lasted into the night where the boudoir spun and to this day I have not tasted gin. As I recall it seemed to fit your description of your concoction including the springlike taste. Watch out for the kick in the bum. Lady O