Mark Zuckerberg has got a hell of a lot to answer for. I remember a time in the not-so-distant past that words dropped out of the vernacular quicker than every 70s British DJ dropped off the Queens New Years Honours list. We let words die a noble death and thought of them fondly in our memories, words such as “eggy” and “punani” adorned the playground but those were short-lived (thankfully).
Words don’t seem to perish so easily these days. Perpetuated by YouTube vloggers, memes and the heavyweights of Facebook the LadBible, “streetspeak” stays around for much longer. “Peng” is one of these words which I particularly detest. Not because of the usage of it as such, it’s more to do with the fact that if you didn’t know what it meant, you couldn’t guess it’s meaning in a month of Sundays just by hearing the word. It lacks any sort of onomatopoeic nuance, it doesn’t have any Shakespearean quality, it’s abrasive – it sounds slightly Germanic due to the harshness of the -ng ending and if someone came up to you in the street and said the word to you, I doubt whether the layperson would know if they were being complemented or they were about to be knifed.
Peng, as it happens, means that a person is attracted to something or someone. For example “that girl is peng” translates to “that girl is rather attractive”. Another example would be “that 2016 Skoda Octavia 1.6 has a peng EuroNCAP rating.” All phrases that a father would need to consider in twenty-eighteen Britain.
I mention the above as I was born in a simpler time. A time when if a word or phrase was spoken, you would know by its very definition, what it meant. One of these phrases is “gin and juice”. If I said to Adam “mate, you want a gin and juice?” I’m one-hundred percent positive he would know what I meant. Gin and Juice was also immortalised in Snoop Dogg’s 1994 fantastic record “Gin and Juice”, the chorus summing up Mr. Dogg’s mentality;
“Rollin’ down the street smokin’ indo
Sippin’ on gin and juice
Laid back (with my mind on my money and my money on my mind).”
Snoop Dogg got it, there was no confusing what gin and juice was, which brings me to the first gin I have decided to write about.
Brockmans Gin describes itself as being “a unique blend of botanicals with subtle notes of berry”. From even the first time smelling the gin, the berry notes are about as subtle as the 1980 SAS siege on the Iranian Embassy! From the top; the bottle itself is sleek and oozes elegance, it is vividly black and the bottom half of the bottle has a cross-hatched texture which adds to the splendour. The one negative factor (and this is a very minor point) is that it is a screw top which devalues the refinement of it. This gin would not be out of place being the centrepiece drink of a black tie event, seen over-ice in crystal glasses in the hands of handsome men and even prettier women.
There is no question of the berry smell and flavour – in fact one of the stand-out botanicals used is the blueberry. If you were blindfolded you would easily be mistaken into thinking that you were drinking a liqueur – perhaps a Creme de Cassis – that’s how powerful the flavour is. After the second sip, the other botanicals start to introduce themselves – the dry juniper jumps onto the tastebuds just as the slightly bitter herbal taste of angelica root makes a welcome appearance. The lemon and orange peel are subdued but compliment the licorice which finishes off the sip. The other botanicals include coriander, orris and cassia.
I got given this gin by my dad for Christmas, truth-be-told, I had it open by the 22nd December. I had been drinking this gin in a tumbler, over ice with a slice of orange peel and Schweppes tonic water. I used Schweppes as it is a no-nonsense tonic staple with a good base quinine flavour you need to offset the harsh juniper. By the 27th December I had run out of tonic but had a few gins left and when the new year hit, the gins were back in the cupboard. I neglected the Brockmans until Saturday evening last, I had my fill of wine with the in-laws and by the time the missus and I had got home I needed a change of pace. I opened the cupboard like a sneaky fat kid at midnight looking to quench my thirst when out of the corner of my eye I saw the Brockmans bottle staring at me, seducing me. Almost giddy with excitement I skipped to the kitchen with the bottle, filled my favourite tumbler to the brim with ice and I poured myself a hearty measure of gin. Opening the fridge I was almost sick to discover that I didn’t have any tonic water! How could I be so stupid as to not have a stock of tonic! My mouth still agape trying to make sense of this Greek tragedy I saw a glimmer of orange towards the back of the fridge, past the bacon. Reaching in I took hold of a carton of non-concentrated orange juice (pulped). As I shut the fridge I was met with a quote by Dr. Dre stuck onto the door with magnetic letters which I had placed there the day before, it read;
“Times are changing,
Young n*ggaz are aging.”
I knew then that the Brockmans was to be introduced to orange juice like Mr. Snoop had sung about over 20 years ago. Unapologetically I glugged the orange juice into the tumbler and took a large swig.
WOW! What a combination of flavours, the sweet berry in the gin balance the sharpness of the orange juice almost perfectly. I couldn’t believe what a great combination I had stumbled upon until the tumbler was empty with me still stood next to the fridge. Mr. Snoop playing in my head, I poured myself another and went into the living room to have a silent gloat about my newly found drink.
I know that the gin connoisseurs amongst the readers will turn their noses up at this drink but maybe a couple of you will give it a go! Adam and I will definitely be keeping this in the back pocket for future.
The particulars;
Price Paid
Christmas present, although available in most supermarkets from £28 – £30.
Tastes Like
If someone kidnapped Ribena berries and made them swim with the fishes in gin.
Would go well with
A Tribe Called Quest’s fantastic 1991 album The Low End Theory
Recommended?
Most definitely, this is a gin which would receive plaudits from the most hardy gin cynic.