Sunday, 25 October 2015

some true facts about the negroni



Last night, on something of a whim and in the company of some fine folks, I consumed maybe 4 to 6 negronis. These were drunk at the conclusion of the evening’s frivolity as a kind of figurative punctuation mark acknowledging the looming presence of midnight and the eventual need to head home.

Today I can feel all those cocktails sitting somewhere in the back of my head, perpetually crumpling up sheets of aluminium foil to hurl at my cerebral cortex, whilst singing Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” in the wrong key, accompanied by a slightly out of tune guitar.

But despite the ruby campari haze I currently find myself lost within, and after much musing about the wisdom of ending nights as such, I have come to the firm resolution that there will never be an adequate reason for me to a) not drink negronis; and, b) not enjoy them more than my pitiful words can describe. If there were actually a nectar of the Gods—some Ideal beverage so perfect it is beyond human comprehension—a negroni would look dismissively upon this nectar, spit, probably fart, then mutter, ‘nice try,’ before finding the nectar’s mother and making fierce (but satisfactory) love to her.

In tribute, then, to the negroni (that perfect bitter blend of gin, campari and vermouth on ice with an orange peel), I present here some true facts about the negroni.

  1. The negroni was invented by Captain Alfred Whitehead Negroni in 14th Century Albania to cure aggressive lethargy. The original recipe contained traces of mercury and instead of orange peels they adorned the beverage with a whole Kiwi fruit.
  2. The negroni became popular in the 16th century largely because of pirates (who also finely honed the recipe to its current grandiosity). Although pirates are commonly (and stereotypically) marked as rum drinkers, they have always been partial to negronis (violently partial one could say). As it became associated with the rough and tumble free-spirited pirate image, the popularity of the negroni soared to great heights, demanded by patrons of inns in countries as diverse as Angola and Lithuania.
  3. Many respected historical scholars attribute the true cause of the French Revolution to the misguided attempt by the monarchy to change the recipe of the negroni so that Absolute vodka was used instead of gin.
  4. Most waterfowl love negronis and there is perhaps nothing more terrifying in the animal world than a herd of ducks stampeding in search of a nearby negroni.
  5. Although the negroni is named after its creator, by an intensely strange fluke, negroni spelled backwards is inorgen, which is a Dutch compound word that essentially means: ‘the splendid liquid sunset.’
  6. The negroni was largely responsible for the Great New York City Fire of 1845. This was because the majority of the metropolitan fire brigade had been out the night before at a fancy dress party, all coincidentally adorned in pirate costumes (except for Eric Steelz who came as a clown and was promptly ostracised). When the firemen got over the shock that they’d all elected to wear the same costume, they thought it appropriate they consume only negronis. Most were too hungover to report to work the next day. Most agreed it was a top night.
  7. Ideally, Negronis are best enjoyed—are, indeed, at their prime—if the drinker is dressed in full Conquistador regalia. Additionally, they should be sitting on an ergonomic desk chair.
  8. People who are allergic to, or who don’t like, negronis, are in fact phantoms and should be banished to the NetherRealm from which they have mistakenly escaped.  
  9. In primordial Amazonian culture, the negroni is used to water the rainforest.
  10. In the beginning there was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was Negroni.

Thursday, 8 October 2015

Some observations from the 930am train to Cranbourne



·         There are a lot of people on this 930am train to Cranbourne. I didn’t know Cranbourne was such a popular Friday morning destination. Maybe something is happening in Cranbourne. I’ll check Google. Nope. Nothing is happening in Cranbourne.
·         This train smells like rice crackers and I am not ok with this. Of all the unusual smells I’ve had to deal with on the 930am train to Cranbourne this is perhaps the most unusual and most strangely distinctive.
·         Why are you looking at me like that?
·         I do not care for how crowded the train is.
·         There is old couple talking loudly in what I think is Greek. It sounds like an argument. The wife consistently talks over the top of her husband whose voice is progressively dropping in octaves. There are less and less syllables in his answers. I have rarely seen a man look so defeated on the 930am train to Cranbourne.
·         Out the corner of my eye: she’s pretty.
·         Wait. No. No, she’s not. Stop staring, Dave.
·         There is a gentleman with a neat goatee wearing flannel. He is happily napping while nursing an open can of Jim Beam and Coke. It’s probably a little early for that. Maybe anything goes on the 930am train to Cranbourne.
·         Is that guy playing Counter Strike on his computer? On the 930am train to Cranbourne? How is he getting enough internet coverage? I think he’s winning. I have rarely seen a man look so victorious on the 930am train to Cranbourne.
·         A slogan for the 930am train to Cranbourne: Anything Goes.
·         Another slogan: Welcome! Have a cheeky can and a nap!
·         Another slogan: Who doesn’t enjoy the smell of rice crackers?
·         I do not like the smell of rice crackers.
·         Oh, good. You are looking at someone else now.
·         I’m not sure of the brand of rice crackers the train smells like. This worries me and I am not entirely sure why.
·         I have absolutely no desire to visit Hughesdale. I’m unreservedly happy as the train leaves Hughesdale Station.
·         At Oakleigh Station a kid in wraparound sunglasses, an oversized t-shirt and baggy track pants boards. He has a lot of pimples and is carrying a stereo playing Aussie hip hop. It is probably turned up to about 7.5. He slouches right in the middle of the carriage and everyone has to listen to his music. Occasionally he sings along, particularly when a curse word features prominently. I do not like him. I do not like him at all.

·         I’m glad to get off at Huntingdale Station. It does not smell like rice crackers here.