Some say you shouldn’t tell girls they will never, ever be as important as your cat.
Others say alcohol and cats don’t mix.
I say to hell with all that – but I do caution against buying fruit when you’re hungover.
Every time I’ve had a big night out I end up crawling, full of remorse and childish fears of dying young (ok, at my age maybe that ship’s sailed), to the fruit market where I load up on kiwifruit, grapefruit, berries, and whatever looks healthy.
And I never frickin eat them.
Instead they sit on my counter top, taunting and leering at me as I gobble my bacon and fried chicken in front of them, until the only thing I can do is wipe the grease off my face and drown the fructose freaks in as much alcohol as I can to get them out of my sight.
Which is why, one night when I couldn’t bare the sight of a smug kiwi fruit for one more minute, I pulverised the pulp out of that hairy little fuck and decided to make a fruity, healthy, absinthe and gin cocktail with it – and unlike most of the monstrosities I concoct in my kitchen, this actually tasted good.
Taking inspiration from the Dorflinger, a classic high-octane cocktail made with two parts gin, one part absinthe, and a dash of orange bitters, I:
- muddled one kiwi fruit
- added two shots of gin
- one shot of freshly squeezed ruby red grapefruit juice (he had it coming as well)
- added a dash of orange bitters
- threw in a sprig of tarragon to add to the botanical orgy that was going on
- shook it with ice and poured it into a tumbler with an absinthe wash (ie I lightly coated the inside of the glass with absinthe).
- I then rubbed the rim with some grapefruit peel that I twisted over the drink and dropped in and voila!
The best fruit juice I’ve ever had.
The tarragon’s aniseed flavour complements the absinthe’s, which in turn goes remarkably well with kiwi fruit. The grapefruit juice counters the diabetic richness of the kiwifruit and alcohol, and orange bitters always goes beautifully with gin.
Jesus. I sound like a wanker from MasterChef.
Being a lazy bastard, I didn’t bother straining this before serving, nor did I muddle the fruit enough – meaning the drink was filled with gin-soaked pulp. This would never be acceptable in any professional bar – but I’m not a professional, and to be honest it was the best part of the drink.
In fact, I’m almost beginning to think fruit may not be so bad after all.
PS I almost forgot: I have to name this concoction. In honour of cats, absinthe and smug kiwifruit, I hereby call this drink The French Fur Ball.