Drunken Dispatches

Christopher Newgent, on Hobart Pulp, says there are five basic flavors in bourbon: grain, caramel, vanilla, oak, and burn.

What sets brands apart is how those five flavors are balanced.

There, is though, a “sixth flavor”:

A true bourbon is a bourbon with a story worth remembering. It doesn’t have to be a good bourbon, but then a true story doesn’t have to be a good story. It just has to be worth remembering; there are plenty of stories worth remembering that aren’t worth telling.

That is probably true for most drinks. I guess that is the alcoholic’s equivalent to umami. Inom-ami.

In the age of the artisanal, when having cocktails means a debate with yourself on whether to get drunk or weep for the Trinidadian island boys whose bitter tears were infused into your (Truly) Old Fashioned, there is something to be said for drinks that will just fuck you up.

Mostly that those drinks will fuck you up without bragging about the particularly fine small-batch gin that is about to cripple your thought processes for the rest of
the night.

They promise only one thing, that you will go home drunker than the night you got stood up at your graduation ball. Except this time going home is optional (and is an extra challenge).  

A speakeasy on Pasong Tamo Ext. offers that sort of poison, aptly named See You Tomorrow. It is not clear what is in the drink but it is served thus:

Two glasses set side by side, half-filled with something. On the rims of those glasses are balanced two shot glasses, filled with something else.

This is how it is downed, as explained by the guy behind the bar who was playing bartender but is probably more accurately referred to as owner:

“This is your first shot,” and he points to the first glass. “This is your second shot,” and he points to the second glass. You’re given no time to question the role of the shot glasses balanced on top of said glasses, because then he says, rapid-fire: “Drink as fast as you can when I say go-GO!” He knocks the shot glasses into the bigger glasses and you have no time to feel duped, because you’re drinking as fast as you can.

There is a hint of coffee liquor for that feel of sophistication, and a high five when you finish for that feel of classic peer pressure. Those are probably the last things you will feel that night.

Within minutes you are reduced to raving as you chain smoke cigarettes and listen to ghost stories and stories about video games about ghost stories. Pretty soon, your night is a series of random scenes:

1. You are talking to guy from Germany who looks like Snoop Doggy Dogg. “I used to have long hair but I got headaches and the doctor said my hair was too heavy,” he says.

2. Your girlfriend is catching up with a schoolmate named Sam whom she has not seen in years. “I’m not Sam!,” she says. “You know how it is when you have a twin,” your girlfriend says. You do not, actually.

3. Not-Sam tells a ghost story and you get clawed in the face in the general panic that ensues because it is dark and all of you are afraid of ghosts.

4. You are trying to flag down a cab while struggling to stay upright because your girlfriend has temporarily lost the use of her legs and yours are about to give out.

5. You raise your middle finger at cab drivers who choose to drive past. In your mind, it is part of a grand (in the sense of -theft auto but not in complexity) scheme to get them to stop and get out of their cabs. This does not work.

6. It is morning. You are crying like the night you got stood up at your graduation ball except instead of feeling ugly on the outside, you are feeling ugly on the
inside. Of your head.

When drinking, we irritate our vocal folds. As a consequence, the pitch of our voice lowers and becomes more variable. The irritant could certainly be the alcohol, but our tendency to speak louder while under the influence could also be to blame. Drunk speech is slow, too.

—Jessica Love. On Drunk Speech. The American Scholar

Get ready to fall in love with the ultimate pulutan. Easy, greasy, and cheap, the unlikely combination of dilis and peanuts (unlikely in nature, anyway) is the best-kept secret of this hole in the wall found on a recent Drunken Dispatch field expedition.

It’s a secret because it isn’t even on the menu. You have to wait for ambulant vendors to drop by and offer you dilis and peanuts in separate plastic bags. Some just offer peanuts, or just dilis. Do not waste time on those guys. 

With the spicy sweetness of the dilis and the saltiness of the peanuts, you get all that’s best of dark and bright in each mouthful.

” Ipitik Festival - A Celebration for Tapuy Rice Wine

The Ipitik Festival is a simple and yet solemn ritual that involves spilling to the first few drops of tapuy rice wine. This serves as an offering of gratitude to the Kabunian (the highest deity of the natives in the Cordilleras). Traditionally, the act of wine spilling or wine sipping in behalf of the spirits was performed by the ‘mambunong’ (shaman).”

Happy hour at Hungduan, Ifugao starts a little bit after 2 p.m. That’s when the day’s batch of Tapuey is ready for drinking.

They come in these rectangular bottles, the kuwatro-kantos, originally used for gin bulag. The tapuey, fermented rice toddy, looks and smells like harvest time on the rice paddies that line the mountains of Ifugao.

It is sweet and fills your chest with a golden warmth that is somehow honest. It is not the rock and roll buzz that Jack Daniel’s brings. More a proud warm glow that is equal parts alcohol and the joy of working the land in God’s country.

She hated how my eyes were aglow after a few drinks (and askew after a few more).

It’s unnatural, she said. Which, strictly speaking, is true. Alcohol is a drug and does not exist in my blood stream by default. But everyone’s eyes go screwy when they drink, I think.

“I don’t want to be with an alcoholic,” she said.

And so, Q.E.D.