beefeater passes the brit test
it takes a brit to sign off on a good gin. it’s kind of a funny coincidence, but every time a sample of gin arrives at my door, it seems a scottish relative is not far behind. those brits have an extraordinary sense of smell when it comes to certain types of alcohol—3,000 miles is seemingly not an obstacle.
enter aunt diana… she’s a typical libra without the nasty side effects. i do believe she’s even more balanced that the average well-balanced libra. so much so, in fact, that she lends her balance to others by practicing therapeutic reiki. but reiki or not, aunt diana likes the sauce. namely, the stuff that comes from juniper berries, that goes by the name of BEEFEATER.
shortly after my sample of BEEFEATER arrived out of nowhere on my doorstep, my mom announced to my father that her sister was coming to stay for a spell. well, it wasn’t 24 hours later that a gigundo bottle of supersized BEEFEATER had joined the liquor cabinet. clearly, my dad was scared. he was shakin’ in his boots at the thought of not having my aunt’s nightcap of choice on hand, which was BEEFEATER, which was usually mixed in a G & T. that would be an embarrassment though, wouldn’t it?
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