You know when you think you know something but then you realize you don’t know anything at all?
Yeah. That just happened.
I’ve realized as I make my way into my
early mid 30’s how little I really do know. Ya know? I pretty much know nothing – zip a dee doo dah.
Well that’s not entirely true. I know how to boil water and I have a pretty firm grasp on how to remain upright (most of the time) given I haven’t had too many bourbon soaked cherries, and I’m fairly certain I know that the government is hiding something about black bean burgers from us.
But that’s pretty much about it.
It’s so funny. When I was an perky teenager (and I mean that in more ways than one) I didn’t know anything nor did I pretend to. I was so full of shits and giggles that it didn’t occur to me there was more to know than my immediate universe.
Then I became old enough – and only barely mature enough – to finish high school, move out on my own and start making decisions sans the daily influence of the parental units. I thought I knew everything. Who I was, who you were, how the world functioned. I knew it all. I was even sure for a little while that if you didn’t agree with me, I knew better.
Like most half drunk, quarter naked, fully crazy 20-somethings, I was a self-obsessed neurotic douche bag.
Then I turned 30. Thank god.
And suddenly there were lumps where there weren’t lumps before – it seems nightly jagger-bombs chased up with a healthy heaping plate of duck fat fries goes straight to my ass.
So I stopped trying to down a kegger every weekend and all the crap that comes with it.
I started eating more vegetables and less canned tuna fish and kraft dinner “casserole”.
I started making decisions that made me feel good for longer than 7 minutes.
I started living in the moment and planning for my life.
I started participating in activities that nourished my heart soul, strengthened my body and brought me closer to kindred spirits.
I started listening more and talking less.
In essence, I stopped being a self-obsessed neurotic douche bag and started being an actual human and treating others like actual humans.
And in it, learned that I know absofuckinglutely nothing at all.
Sure I have some book knowledge and general ideas about what I consider to be right or wrong. I think I know who our Prime Minster (unfortunately) is. But I’m much more open to new experiences, people and challenges. I’m optimistic for real social, environmental and food system change because you never know when some great mind who knows more than I do will show up and throw the smack down!
Unless I’m not. On those not so open and optimistic days I acknowledge that I may not even know myself from time to time. And that’s okay.
I hope I keep learning how little I really do know. It’s awfully humbling and inspiring to find out new things. I hope I never stop growing and changing. Emotionally, mentally, spiritually, intellectually… Preferably not physically.
At least I’ve got some sun on those gams right now. Praise the sun gods!
So what spurred all this internal reflection about knowledge you ask? Like all great life revelations, I came awares after a bottle of wine (that happens, right?)
In sum, I thought I knew what an Old Fashioned was. Intimately. Sinfully. She and I, we share the same bed don’t you know. That’s no secret. Cat’s out of the bag, as it were.
Turns out, I was deliciously and egregiously wrong.
I had no idea what she could be. As it turns out, I also love my gin. Really great craft gin. Like the new Stump Gin from Phillip’s Fermentorium on Vancouver Island. It’s incredibly herbacious, floral and all kinds of pretty.
Or you can take a life lesson like I did and get a little crafty and a little She Eats on that glass’s ass and see a side of her you ain’t never seen before. This drink is loyal to my roots yo, Golden Retriever style. An homage to the best cocktail in existence: The Old Fashioned.
Yes. My roots are made out of bourbon. I ain’t your average tree, yo.
The Gin Old Fashioned is simple, strong and something any booze hound will love. Including self identified bourbonators like myself.
As with any simple 4 ingredient dish, there’s no where for shitty flavours to hide – so just make sure you start with the best gin you can afford.
Le sigh. I remember the days when Phillips just put out the best beer in the world. I’m not even exaggerating. I go gaga for the stuff, lady style. But it looks like they’re growing up and out and onto new things. Including my over-30 ass. Who ‘s ready for some easy listening light rock?
The Gin Old Fashioned
Yield 2 drinks
- 4 Oz Good Quality Gin
- Dash of Angostura bitters
- 2 Sugar cubes
- Zest of an orange or lemon
- Optional: 4 fresh blueberries to garnish
- Divide the sugar cubes into 2 glasses.
- Saturate with bitters - give it a good couple shakes or so.
- Top with 2 shots of gin and muddle until the sugar breaks down and begins to dissolve in the mixture.
- Add as much ice as makes you happy and stir for about 45 seconds.
- Run the zest of the citrus along the top of each glass. Twist and squeeze to release some oil and drop into the mixture or skewer with blueberries and place on side of the glass.
- Bottoms up.
To easily get a nice strip of zest, cut the bum and top off the citrus so it sits flat on the counter. Then take a pairing knife and starting from the top, make your way along the skin of the fruit, avoiding the pithy white part and flesh. Ta-da! Once you do it a couple times you can go the other way around the fruit (horizontal) and try to make a nice long strip!
What do you know? What don’t you know? Ever have a major life revelation under the influence of wine? Do you enjoy gin? What’s your go to drink?
Disclosure of Material Connection: Phillip’s Fermentorium Distilling Co dropped off a bottle of gin and their 4 tonics at no cost. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will be good for my readers. All opinions and information is entirely accurate and a reflection of my true experience and was not influenced, in any way, by the above mentioned products or companies. Opinions and views are my own. Because that’s how I roll, yo. I’ve never been one to shut my mouth – I’m not going to start now.