Signs of comfort

One of the things I've always associated with life being in proper kilter is a well-stocked liquor cabinet. Neither of my parents were drinkers - this was something I picked up in college from David Schneider, who was of the firm belief that life was too short for cheap booze. Stolichnaya, Glenfiddich, and a whole range of other top-shelf alcohol.

I tried to maintain one when I moved into a single room, though my wallet was too short for really top-shelf. Russkaya vodka (sadly gone - it was very good) or the black label Smirnoff (also sadly gone), McClelland's Highland (good, but their Lowland tastes like fermented pond water - 'faintly peaty' my ass), and an array of others and red wines.

The post-college years went for consistent variety, though friends and I plumbed the depths of how low one could go with wine and liquor quality yet still remain drinkable. We found there is no taste quite like bargain Scotch (and no hangover like it either), vodka at any price can be mixed and enjoyed, and beware Eastern European wines for less than $4/bottle (there's a reason they used it for bus fuel later on in Sweden).

I dated (then married) a wonderful woman with the same taste for Scotch and wine, and we enjoyed exploring a range of wines. (Our first anniversary was a trip to a wonderful spa/winery in Canada I'll always have fond memories of.) Scotch we normally kept to the old favorite of Dalmore, but still maintained a fairly good range of liquor for friends who stopped by and had their own particular favorites.

Sadly, the cabinet was trashed beyond recognition by a visiting friend in the depths of his alcoholism. Our finances were at a point I couldn't properly rebuild, though I always intended to. With kids, it just didn't seem to be of importance. And yet, I wonder if it wasn't a sign.

Yesterday was a rough day of realizations I didn't want to hear (on top of having the office virus), and I found myself at the liquor store. My birthday was last week, and I'd done absolutely nothing for it. Fine, I said to myself. Happy fucking birthday to me. New place, new space, new start - I am rebuilding the cabinet. Not top shelf, but going for the range.

So, 150 bucks later, I now have the following:

5L box of Franzia red (drinkable - rebuilding of wine will have to wait)
750 McClelland's Highland
1.75 UV Vodka
1L Castillo Gold Rum
1L Korbel Brandy
1L Canadian Leaf whiskey
750 Absinthe Ordinaire
350 Crystal Palace Gin
350 Extra-Dry Vermouth

This was added to a nearly empty bottle of Dewars and a Crystal Head Vodka bottle half-full now of Svedka. (Side note - Crystal Head, beyond the gimmick, is DAMN TASTY. And the bottle is a cool gimmick - very reusable.)

The absinthe was the true impulse purchase of the lot, as I'd never had it before. I prepared it in a variation of the traditional method (water poured over a tsp of sugar into the glass - no slotted spoons or sugar cubes on hand). It was...very nice. And very needed. I'm looking forward to a second tasting with a slightly more relaxed brain to get the full effect, but I'm glad to have bought it.

I had a glass of Franzia with pizza this evening, and am now pouring the remaining Dewars over ice. The glass is a rocks glass stolen from a casino in Reno after I'd lost a hundred bucks on a really stupid bet over a decade ago. I'm going to work on a few blog posts about work, and then fall asleep listening to the creek out my window.

Life might just be settling out. I just have to let it.