So we’re in what passes for summer now…
…and that means that yet again stupid bars and the most irritating of “micro flair” loving mixology bellends conspire to ruin something for the rest of us by insisting on “elevating” it. Dicks.
Gin and tonic is the most British thing ever, after not speaking any other languages and being hilariously shit at sports we invented. It is a pretty decent summery highball, and has its roots in the playfully racist halcyon days of the Empire, where medicine was either heroin, cocaine, or at least over 40% ABV. It’s a pleasant drink, obviously no savvy b and Sprite, but certainly an acceptable order.
So when is a G n’ T not a G n’ T? When bartenders can’t leave their stupid egos out of it, that’s when. Why can’t it just be a normal spirit and mixer? It is not improved by adding rocket, sezchuan buttons or “just a dash of saline”. Any attempts to tart up a two ingredient drink make us want to stab people with a rusty barspoon and microplane their fingertips.
If you’re British the current OBSESSION with esoteric gin is kind of odd because to us it’s just cheap, shit, old people booze, the stuff our alcoholic nans pretended wasn’t in their tea, and almost certainly the exact taste of the Queen Mother’s face if you licked it. Come on, it would though.
Bars have been torturing this drink for a while now, which is almost entirely Spain’s fault. But while a copa loaded with a 200ml pour of gin and a splash of Fever-tree might be a lovely refreshing thing to sip whilst nibbling a pie-ay-yah watching the sun go down in Bar-tha-loan-ah, a huge unpolished burgundy glass full of flat gun tonic, dried juniper berries and a 25ml splash of Gordons gulped down outside a pub in Hackney is no bueno.
So we are getting in on the act and elevating/ruining the true summer drink of champions: the spritz. Ours is Mateus rose, strawb Mirinda and a handful of Haribo, served in a mug with the Queen mum on it. Gawd bless you ma’am. She wouldn’t stand for any of this nonsense. Bring back hanging we say.