My dad is a rum fiend. This isn’t an exaggeration, if Johnny Depp hadn’t of been cast as Jack Sparrow, dad would’ve been donning a crappy dreadlocked wig and giving it his best “yo-ho-ho” if he thought it would get him more of the sweet sweet rumbullion. Dad is an avid collector of it – at the last count he had over 50 bottles which he proudly displays in a cabinet in the living room. Luckily for my brother and I he doesn’t open any of them unless we do it first and even if we do, the second the seal is cracked he is online ordering a replacement. This isn’t to say he doesn’t drink any, he just drinks the more accessible (cheaper) options available in the supermarket.
The petty grievance I have with dads obsession is that he will serve every one of the rums in the same way – over ice, with coke and a slice of lime. Blasphemous! How can every rum be complimented by the exact same recipe? It doesn’t make sense considering all the different maturation techniques involved in the rum-making process. This thought led me to reflect on how I drink gin, most of the time it is the same – ice, lime, tonic. Ice. Lime. Tonic. Ice-lime-tonic. It’s almost a mantra, but not necessarily a healthy one.
I had a flashback to when a younger (and less grey-haired) me worked in a pub in the centre of Bristol. The pub itself had a very “local” feel to it, the proprietors at the time – Jason a 20-stone insouciant-when-drunk Irishman and Samantha, a 8 stone whip-smart Essexgirl, did a fantastic job at cultivating this culture. 15 years on I still can remember what the locals drank; Brian the retired bricky drank half pints of Bass exclusively, Tony the ex-cop crown court clerk would come in every lunchtime to have 2 pints of Thatchers Original for lunch and a brown-haired-with-frosted-tips Adam came in after working at the hotel next door to have a lager top. I loved working at the pub, it was relatively easy work, you got to speak to loads of different people and the best part is that you could drink on the job and get away with it!
The pub I worked in was ostensibly an ale house although in the time I was working there the parent company was trying to change the image into a more chic wine bar-esque pub, swapping the KP nuts for overpriced olives in Kilner jars served in £4 a pop ramekins. A lot of the “old guard” locals at this point had abandoned ship to more traditional pubs in the neighbourhood although there were still the staunch hangers-on. These few kept on coming back, especially on Sundays to listen to the traditional live jazz which Jason the landlord insisted on. The jazz itself wasn’t that good to my young ears, especially with the mega hangovers I used to sport regularly. The jazz felt like a rusty nail being driven into my brain, already fragile with a headache and ready to burst. Most of the audience on these Sundays spent around 2 hours in the pub during which the men would buy half a pint of ale and a gin and tonic for their other halves. One of the barmaids would reply in an almost Pavlovian manner to the request of a gin and tonic with “Ice and a slice?”. I can’t understate how much I hated this phrase. It almost wound me up as much as the jazz compere, after finishing his set would always say “Go home to your Sunday joint…whether you smoke it or cook it, it’s entirely up to you” which would cause a rousing applause from the elderly audience. Each week I wanted to jump over the bar and bludgeon him with his drumsticks when he said this phrase.
The problem with the question “Ice and a slice?” is that it is so flippant, almost obnoxious, it is a false choice you are giving someone. The person posing the question has already formulated an answer independent of the recipients’ response. If I asked someone whether they wanted ice and a slice in any drink, it would be me who would be deciding a) how much ice and b) what kind of slice went in it. Back in the late nineties I doubt it would have mattered, you got served gin one way only – Gordon’s with a couple of pieces of ice, lukewarm tonic and a slice of lemon which if you were lucky was only two days old. I believe this seemingly innocuous question was the reason why I stayed away for gin for so long, it just didn’t seem appealing what was being served.
Today gin is a big business for any self-respecting pub or bar and most bartenders give the drink the respect it deserves with a whole medley of “slices” and other accoutrements served with it. Around 3 years ago the missus and I were up in Edinburgh with the family, we were staying in the Newtown area off of Queens Street and we had met a friend in a local bar. I was scanning the shelves behind the bar for their selection of gins when one stood out as it had a red asterix on the front of it, I couldn’t quite make out the name but it looked Gaelic. I asked the barman if I could see the bottle and he passed it to me – “CAORUNN {ka-roon}” the bottle proclaimed. I asked for gin and tonic with this gin and it got served with two crushed juniper berries and a slice of apple. With the first sip I was blow away by the crispness of the gin, the citrus zing makes you smack your lips after every sip and the lingering flavour on the pallet is floral. As I finished the first glass within a minute of ordering, I knew I had found a lifelong favourite to enjoy. I was really thrown by the slice of apple in the gin which accentuated the citrus flavours and offset the juniper taste. It was a little treat at the end of the drink to eat the apple as a lasting reminder of the time spent in the company of such a lovely gin.
Caorunn like many other Scottish gins is made in a whisky distillery, while the whiskies take years to mature in casks, gin can be produced relatively quickly and in the same quantities in a fraction of the time. Caorunn is produced in the Balmenach Distillery in the Speyside region of Scotland on the northern tip of the Cairngorms national park. It is made using a base grain alcohol and boasts eleven botanicals, most notably the Rowan berry – the drinks’ Celtic namesake. The subtle sharpness of the taste is due to dandelion leaf in the blend and the floral notes on the nose are unmistakable Heather. The base botanicals of angelica, coriander seed, lemon and orange peel are perfectly balanced to suit most tonic waters, especially sweeter ones. Caorunn is one of very few gins who could survive the dreaded question “Ice and a slice?”. I have been known to drink it with lime, lemon and also orange peel – it goes well with all three. Caorunn is no doubt one of my favourite gins and can always be found in my cupboard, the one downside is that it is too easily drinkable!
Price Paid
Available in most supermarkets from £28 – £30.
Tastes Like
Meeting a person for the first time, knowing at that very moment you will have many grand adventures together.
Would go well with
A meat charcuterie – parma ham especially.
Recommended?
Of course.