Skip to main content

more mundo alcoholica


inspired by my thoughts on cocktails, and by the fact that i got to try two proper absinthes at the lcbo, i took the opportunity afforded by the weekend to crack open a bottle of damiana liquer that i bought while in mexico a while back. i bought it because it was a local delicacy and it had a cool bottle (see photo)... damiana is apparently a quaint local term for "demon from the ninth circle of hell", which is an appropriate description of the flavour.

taken straight, the drink is somewhat akin to consuming the contents of a zippo lighter followed by a spoonful of honey. not to be deterred, i investigated the possibilities of mixing this concoction with something else in the hopes of making it, if not palatable, at least tolerable. after contemplating the horror which was the dam + jag cocktail (because the only thing i could think of that would make this worse would be to mix it with jaggermeister) and dismissing as possibly dangerous the notion of mixing it in a magarita, i settled on lowly orange juice as a possible solution. turns out that, much like the magic it can work with cheap vodka, orange juice does make it better.

in the meantime, i will contemplate its very attractive bottle, it's amber-like colour and will try to avoid thinking about it's revolting taste.

Comments

If I may interject, orange juice cannot save everything... there are things out there that quite simply are beyong redemption; for that matter, I do believe that some mixes are banned under the non-proliferation pact...

as long as you're here, why not read more?

wrong turn

as some of you are aware, i have a long-term project building a family tree. this has led me to some really interesting discoveries, like the fact that i am partly descended from crazy cat people, including the patron saint of crazy cat ladies, that a progenitor of mine once defeated a french naval assault with an army of scarecrows, that my well-established scottish roots are just as much norwegian as scottish, and that a relative of mine from the early middle ages let one rip with such ferocity that that's basically all he's remembered for. but this week, while i was in the midst of adding some newly obtained information, i found that some of my previous research had gone in an unexpected direction: the wrong one.

where possible, i try to track down stories of my better-known relatives and in doing so this week, i realised that i couldn't connect one of my greatĖ£ grandfathers to his son through any outside sources. what's worse that i found numerous sources that con…

dj kali & mr. dna @ casa del popolo post-punk night

last night was a blast! a big thank you to dj tyg for letting us guest star on her monthly night, because we had a great time. my set was a little more reminiscent of the sets that i used to do at katacombes [i.e., less prone to strange meanderings than what you normally hear at the caustic lounge]. i actually invited someone to the night with the promise "don't worry, it'll be normal". which also gives you an idea of what to expect at the caustic lounge. behold my marketing genius.

mr. dna started off putting the "punk" into the night [which i think technically means i was responsible for the post, which doesn't sound quite so exciting]. i'd say that he definitely had the edge in the bouncy energy department.

many thanks to those who stopped in throughout the night to share in the tunes, the booze and the remarkably tasty nachos and a special thank you to the ska boss who stuck it out until the end of the night and gave our weary bones a ride home…

eat the cup 2018, part seven :: oh, lionheart

it all seemed so magical: england's fresh-faced youngsters marching all the way through to a semi-final for the first time since 1990. everywhere, the delirious chants of "it's coming home". and then, deep into added time, the sad realization: it's not coming home. oh england, my lionheart.

now, if we're being really strict about things, my scottish ancestors would probably disown me for supporting England, because those are the bastards who drove them off their land and sent them packing to this country that's too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. and indeed, shops in scotland have sold through their entire stock of croatian jerseys, as the natives rallied behind england's opponents in the semi-final. however, a few generations before they were starved and hounded from the lands they'd occupied for centuries, my particular brand of scottish ancestors would have encouraged me to support england [assuming that national football had even…