It’s today’s artisanal craft drink, often marketed by cheery fellas in flat caps. But, to me, gin tastes like musty leaf matter
Let me confess. I live daily with the fear that, like Hector in Alan Bennett’s The History Boys, I am “not in the swim”. At the great dinner party of life, I’m on the children’s table, a mere spectator of the grown-up fun. This is because, deep breath, I don’t have a favourite gin. Yup, I know. If I were asked at a bar which gin I would like with my tonic, I would only stammer. But that’s only the beginning. The truth is I don’t have a favourite gin, because I hate ALL gin. As far as I’m concerned having a favourite gin would be like choosing a favourite war criminal, only with a greater impact on my life.
It’s worse even than the time I admitted to not liking a negroni, that cruel and bitter slap of a cocktail, a taste for which is meant to mark you out as a mature sophisticate. Despite all the hype the negroni remains a niche drink. Even if I don’t want to be part of the negroni-drinking gang, there’s surely another gang over there I can go hang out with.
As I examined the gin world, I was struck by how much of it is marketed as tasting of something other than gin
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