Cherry, peach, apple.
For me, these words conjure thirst quenching juices, a summer road trip to Door County, Wisconsin, an Autumn farmer’s market where I chose Honey Crisps and Pink Lady’s to devour, and pies, oh yes, buttery crust pies complimented by warm, sweet-tart fruit filling. I can barely write that last part without my mouth watering.
Now, I gratefully have another reason to sample the pleasures of cherries, peaches, and apples…moonshine.
Our friend Mercedes just returned from a North Carolina holiday to gift us with four Mason jars of her brother’s private still. We haven’t tried them yet, because honestly, we are a little afraid of their potency, but Mercedes has reassured us that with the right mixer, we will enjoy them easy.
A part of me wants to try them pure, because long ago, I did try a sip of some Kentucky shine. I remember that it felt like drinking fire, and I didn’t hate this feeling. And there’s a history of bootlegging in my family, so it seems fitting, like taking a little sip of history, recalling the U.S.’s relationship with alcohol. It might taste a little bitter, like how what was once so forbidden, illegal, and a product of the poor has now worked its way into popular culture. If memory serves me, it will taste hard, like the terrible, shameful parts of our history. But it might taste smooth too, like the music and literature of the South.*
Yup. This shine will be complex. I’ll drink it soon, and I’ll search for cocktail recipes to see what I find. I’m sure the hipsters have come up with something, and I write this with sincere gratitude for their creativity.
Bottoms up!
*With Funny Duchess, I do try to avoid any political slants, but I’ve just finished reading an excellent collection of essays called We Learn Nothing by Tim Kreider. I must admit that his tone and voice have slipped into this post a bit. I highly recommend his work. Obviously, it stays with you. Thank you Tim for making me laugh and think.
