Mixed Feelings – Mixology Monday XLI

When I started this category about cocktails, I decided to write every single entry bilingual so that if I would join Mixology Monday some time, everyone would be able to read the stuff I wrote before and so I could eventually become famous and wouldn’t have to work anymore. Well, it’s yet to find out if I can finaly cancel my studying due to my incredible genius, since last MxMo didn’t actualy ever take place and my talent hadn’t had it’s obligatory fourteen days to bloom.

This weeks MxMo is hosted by Felicia’s Speakeasy. Coincidental enough for my first entry, because it’s one of the few cocktail blogs I have read completely and enjoyed very much.

Amelia has chosen „Vodka is your friend“ as this months topic.

First of all: All alcohol is your friend. But in every friend circle there is a guy of which you ask yourself every now and then why you are friends with him at all.

That guy is vodka. I don’t say that because I want to sail with the inquisitors dell‘ bar, these who claim that a neutral spirit deserves no place in an enviroment of taste and flavour creation. I enjoy the occasional one or twelve Screw Drivers or White Russians. Only every now and then the ol‘ bastard shows his real face. This is when I visit my familiy.

See, my fianceé is from Kasachstan and since I have to make family with Russians, I only do know vodka. When you decide to go to a russian celebration you automaticaly enlist for every single round any male at the table is willing to proclaim. There are a few single storys that capture the spirit of vodka very nicely.

First thing is that many vodka bottles in Russia have tin seals. Once broken open you cannot close the bottle anymore. Then I read a story a few weeks ago of an Russian electrician who went boozing with his friends. He ended up with a knife in his back, missing his heart by a mere inch. Thing is, he didn’t realize it until the next morning and commented that he would not go to the police or be angry with the attacker since they agreed to go drinking together and whenever you drink wild things could happen.

So. Without much further ado and knowing that it isn’t a cocktail at all actualy, I give you:

The way vodka is originaly intended.

I goes like this:

You are invited somewhere. Nobody speeks of alcohol in beforehand, everyone has just brought a bottle of vodka. You brought flowers and look stupid. The first time, that is.

You walk up the buffet and sit down. Around that time you make a few fatal mistakes.

1. You are a solid drinker in your class and age, so you believe you can keep up with the Russians. It will not matter if you are 14 and in school or 52 and a fulltime wino. You cannot.
2. You believe that eating will change that. It doesn’t. It alters the color of your vomit.
3. You think you could skip out rounds without making a total ass of yourself. You cannot.

So, you sat yourself between your father-in-law and your uncle-in-law and think of how to dodge the next shot without getting in trouble with the law. Well, you’ve already guessed it, you cannot. Much too late you realize that you have lost your ability to gracefuly stand up and walk to the toilet, so you hold up like a good solidier, you keep the enemy inside you in the blissful hope that they will get drunk soon too and give you the chance to crawl away unseen. Well, they do not. But at some point they will decide to dance. It just ain’t no real celebration without dancing! It’s just a matter of whether you decide to wait that long for your sneek attack on the toilet.

The last thing you might see that night is that the toilet you lay in front of is in fact the wardrobe of the sleeping room. You realize that turning around after being finished. You are so emberrased that you decide to flee. You will end up at the table between two merry fellas who welcome you back with a shot of vodka. If you don’t tend to black out you might now enjoy the linguistic transmorphotential of alcohol, since by now you are capable of speeking fluent Russian and everyone has quite a time whilst you explore your new talent. But at least when the others finish dancing and come back to the table to take up drinking at full pace again, even the most skilled drinker goes darkside.

You wake up at 4 pm the next morning only to find out that your drinking buddys are already home from their 10 hour shift at their job. You realize that every woman present outdrank you and it wasn’t even close. You realized, that you have propably yelled „NeescheeeisnegaaaljetzhieaäääNASTROVJE!“ at some point.

While you glance over the offering of food disgusted by the notion of eating, your father-in-law steps up behind you, grins at you, lays his massive hand on your sholder and says: „Good drinking. You held up well.“

Same thing happens basicaly every time you meet someone again.

You suddenly realize, that you had a hell lot of fun and good talks with people who have a completly different socialization and mostly dont even speek your language. You managed to be accepted in the family.

And that’s why vodka is your friend.