Gorzka prawda o życiu

[muckefuck]

monshu needed scotch, so we took a short stroll through the hood which took us past our favourite Korean-owned alcohol emporium. He settled on a bottle of 10 year-old Macallan as the most drinkable of the reasonably-priced alternatives while I browsed in search of new brands with which to supplement our collection of wild and wonderful liquors. I finally settled on a bottle from the Polmos Lublin distillery (formerly part of the state monopoly) with the enchanting name of "Żołądkowa Gorzka". Enchanting, that is, until my dictionary translated it as "gastric bitter".

Of course, if those godless socialists told you you had four limbs, you didn't trust them until you'd counted them again yourself. So it should come as no surprise that the name is yet another dirty lie. The vodka (or, if you prefer, wódka) is less bitter than a jar of Robertson's. Its label promises "orange and clove flavors", but if there's any clove in there, my untalented untrained nose can't detect a whiff.

My first thought upon seeing it, though, was That'd be nice in tea. So I brewed a mug of Tangerine Zinger™ which I "corrected" with half a shot. monshu things it may have ramped up the citrus tang a bit, but I think it just got lost and I'd've been better off with a different flavour. Maybe if it were a black or blackberry tea instead, then the spirit would add an extra dimension. Well, now that our couple weeks of St Martin's summer have faded and the weather has turned well and truly wretched, I should have a lot more opportunities to put this to the test.