In a very recent post I mentioned a method of making beer worthwhile, but gave no additional details. I kinda figure that if you’re a beer drinker, you need some very clear instructions because even the easy things get past you. I mean, hell, there you are at the liquor store, surrounded by all of that marvelous liquor, and you walk out with beer? One who’d do that would prefer a strip joint to a live woman. Not that I intend to insult my readers, but, gawd, why on Earth would one choose, intentionally, to develop a beer gut and brewer’s droop?
Still, there are times when a beer is deemed to be a good thing. I like a nice cold beer every now and then, about twice a year. About as often as I desire raw meat or an uncooked egg. Beer is, after all, unfinished whiskey.
Okay, on to making the stuff worth drinking before it’s finished. Get yourself some quantity of tequila. It doesn’t have to be good tequila, and really shouldn’t be. That’d be missing the point entirely. Our kid and her husband like to drink Crown Royal in, oh, gawd, 7-Up or Coca-Cola or some such. Why spend that kind of money just to not even taste the stuff? Go cheap. You won’t know the difference. In fact, when it comes to infused tequila the cheaper stuff tastes better. It stands up better against the taste of unfinished whiskey.
Got yer tequila? Slice up one jalapeño per 375ml (AKA “pint”) of tequila into thin strips, seeds and ribs and all. Slide the sliced chiles (with seeds and ribs) into the tequila, and replace that screwy plastic cap. Put it somewhere you won’t forget about it, and shake it once or twice per day or week or whatever. This ain’t science. Shake it four times a day, or once a week. I shake mine once a day, but it’s yo thang, do whatcha wanna do.
After about a month, shake hell out of the tequila and immediately strain it. It should be a bit cloudly, more or less kinda sorta. Don’t be wasteful: eat the chiles. Yum. Then add about, oh, a half teaspoon of lime juice per removed chile to the liquor. Again, this ain’t science and I don’t measure anything when I’m cooking or mixing drinks. Perhaps because hard liquor removes the capacity for scientific precision, but let us not dwell upon that just now.
When it’s time to drink unfinished whiskey, pour somewhere between a teaspoon and a tablespoon of the infused tequila into the thing before imbibing. There’s just no sense risking getting a raw product into your mouth before proper sterilization. Use less if you’re a pansy who doesn’t like spicy things, more if you’ve got your big girl panties on and really know how to party. Or you’re male, since even wimpy ass males will do things they believe appear to be macho in order not to be considered too girly. Even effeminate fags will harm themselves in this endeavor, in my experience. It’s quite entertaining.
Any yeasties who aren’t quite dead in your beer will try frantically to spit the stuff out, causing foaming of your unfinished whiskey. It’s generally considered impolite to let that foam fall to the table, so when your beer gives you head you should return the favor. Swallow, dammit. Spitting is unrefined.
Once the infused tequila is in there, enjoy your raw whiskey. And keep an eye on your stupid friends, too — those who find it too hot will instinctively take another long draw on their beers, compounding the problem. It’s okay to laugh at them when they do, because they’re too damned girly. They might never contact you again, but that’s okay. Who wants to party with wimps?
Now the killer secret that I have never shared with anyone not about to discover it through delightful experience: A wee swish of this infused tequila at the right moment will make you a god or goddess of the oral arts, by which I most certainly do not mean regaling the Lion’s Club with a well crafted speech. Not too big a swish, just a wee bit of one. We’re going for tantalizing warmth here, not blisters. Done correctly, you will get huge compliments. Added to an already perfected technique, there will be a trophy of some kind. And performed regularly with a perfected technique, we’re talking a new car. Serious professional accolades.
Amethyst didn’t freak out even a little bit when I bought a $4000 racing transmission for my truck.