BEHOLD: Drinking with Chickens.
Well, let’s back up here a bit. You need some history. You’re so damned thirsty for knowledge. And, most likely, also for cocktails. That’s what I like about you.
I spend a lot of time in the garden. Probably too much. Most days I’m out there digging feverishly like a feral forest child—hissing at anyone who disturbs me during my garden Zen. LEAVE ME TO MY DIGGING! I’m burying magical things that will grow into…well, cocktails. Because, somewhere along the line, that’s what the garden became: a place to grow stuff that could go into cocktails. Furthermore, said cocktails are always consumed in said garden. It’s the circle of life.
And then one day…chickens. There are more than a few cocktail recipes that call for egg whites, you know. So…it seemed only logical and somewhat unavoidable that the garden should be making fresh eggs. Furthermore, cocktail hour in the garden of good and evil needed a little…comedic relief. There is something transcendental about a bunch of chickens doing clumsy ballet as they’re getting Jurassic on unsuspecting bugs in the fading evening light. Especially after you’ve had a little rum. Or a lot of rum. Did I say transcendental? Rum makes me so profound.
You will probably realize quickly that I am not a professional mixologist. I have not had a lick of training. But, yes, you’re damned straight I’m a professional drinker. I believe the official title is “Drinkin’ Lady” (as bequeathed to me by my seven-year-old nephew…I’M SUCH A GOOD INFLUENCE), and it takes years of hard work to achieve, people. But what I lack in proper technique, I make up for in over-enthusiasm towards really good, fresh, local drinks. And also in chicken antics.
So you see, ‘drinking with chickens’ is really a metaphor. Grow some stuff. Put it in a glass with alcohol. Drink it whilst you relax in the garden with whatever garden friends you’ve got: chickens? Dogs? Goats? Humans? Imaginary? Cocktail garden-drinking is an equal-opportunity endeavor. And for gawdssakes make sure there are some party lights somewhere.
Hi. I’m Kate. I drink with my chickens.
Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk.
That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.
– Ernest Hemingway