The Kind of Girl Who … doesn't drink like a girl

by That Kind of Girl on November 6, 2009

NTKOG #56: The kind of girl who, with grace and poise, can choke down a mason jar full of Scotch with the best of the Old Boys.

I am: a huge fan of hard liquors. Give me gin or brandy any day. But first, go ahead and give ‘em a little shake with some simple syrup and something from the citrus family.

I am not: able to drink: a) any straight booze; b) whiskey at any degree of dilution.

The Scene: Cambridge, late afternoon. Sister’s bff Duran is in town and I’m taking her around while Sister’s at work. Of course, in true TKOG fashion, my version of “showing someone around” is “buying books then boozin’ with them.” So, loaded down with presidential biographies and a Jim Shepard collection, we turn our attention to cocktail hour, and stumble upon a little corner bar called Plough and Stars.

The interior’s gorgeous, the sound system is playing warbly old recordings of WWII era lounge, there’s not a single woman in the joint and a suspicious number of the patrons have bouffant hair and are drinking PBR. Jackpot.

Before we even grab stools, Duran asks the bartender for a Jameson, neat. He casts her an appraising eye and says they don’t have Jameson, but he has a whiskey that’s even better. They both spend a few minutes getting their super-Irish on, discussing peatiness and smokiness and the rolling green hills of Eire, and just when they’re on the verge of hugging, she orders a shot of his recommended whiskey, neat, water chaser.

I order the same.

Although I should probably point out that it took me like twenty minutes to drink this shot. But no big deal because IT WAS WARM ANYWAY. God whiskey drinkers are weird.

Whiskey: quaffable.

For context, I’ve taken occasional nips of whiskey — only really high quality stuff, after a really super great experience with way too much Jack one night in high school — and it always just … I mean, you guys, it makes me want to vom or die or pull my organs with knitting needles through my ears. I do not like it, is what I’m saying.

When this came, though, Duran tucked in right away, while I angsted. Finally I pulled in a little sip and — it was actually pretty okay. Strong but kind of creamy and maybe a little spicy.

TKOG: Dude, this is actually really good!
Duran: Wait a sec. It’ll hit you.
TKOG: I don’t know what you’re — oh. …oh.

But as long as I stuck to small sips, and was pretty liberal with the palate-cleansing water, I actually totally enjoyed it. Plus, after exactly one (ONE!) whiskey, Duran and I were giggly-drunk, spilling highly confidential secrets and gossiping about boys and just generally in delightfully girlish moods, which I’m going to go ahead and permanently assume is a pleasant side effect of whiskey-drunk.

Also can I seriously tell you how amazing this bar was? At one point, a super drunk guy corralled me and made me read through every text message on his iPhone to enjoy a conversation in which his ex threatened to commit suicide and he told her, "No, meet me at the bar, we'll fuck to save the friendship" and she told him "We'll see -- I'll show up if I don't commit suicide first." When I left, the guy was cheerfully telling the bartender: "There's a fifty-fifty shot my date will show up tonight!"

Kilbeggan: totally drinkable even by wimpy dudes who are 100% afraid of whiskey.

The Verdict: I am willing to concede that when I am 1) with good friends, in 2) a really charming bar, I actually do enjoy 3) one shot of 4) this specific brand of whiskey. Not to pile on the disclaimers or anything…

While I am still definitely, definitely not a whiskey girl, I would totally order it again if my drinking companion were also indulging, or possibly in place of wine when I make my occasional jaunt to a cigar bar. Primarily because I have this long-cherished fantasy of one day walking into a bar and ordering a scotch, neat, and the bartender reporoving me: “That’s a man’s drink,” and me leaning against the bar, knocking back half the drink, then looking up at him — jaded, broken, but full of determination — “It’s a man’s world, buddy.”

Were this not the unlikeliest bar exchange EVER, I’m going to go ahead and assume it would probably happen in a cigar bar and now know that I’m free to spend a few whiskey-sipping days chasing it.

{ 25 comments… read them below or add one }

ohhayitskk November 6, 2009 at 9:50 am

i love whiskey. a lot. i should try this whiskey, methinks.

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nikki November 6, 2009 at 9:54 am

““That’s a man’s drink,” and me leaning against the bar, knocking back half the drink, then looking up at him — jaded, broken, but full of determination — “It’s a man’s world, buddy.””

That. I want to see that exchange in a movie or on TV somewhere. It is absolutely brilliant. It’d never happen in real life, true. But it’s one of those pieces of dialogue that would play well on the screen.

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carissajaded November 6, 2009 at 10:32 am

Oh girl, I used to be a Jim Beam girl myself. Like, shot after shot. I blame whiskey on basically every decision I made in college. AND IT WAS FUN!!! For my 21st Birthday, my friends bought me a handle of Jim Beam and that was polished off before the keg was tapped.

Then I took a break…

Then one night after I hadn’t had whiskey in forevs- I decided in an Anchorman “I love Scotchy-scotch scotch moment” to slam back some scotch. I straight Exorcist vommed all over the wall, and haven’t really been able to drink dark liquor since.

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Ken O November 6, 2009 at 10:47 am

You are aware that “Whiskey” is the flavourless muck that the Americans and Irish make, and nothing to do with the superior Single Malt Scotch Whisky?

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carissajaded November 6, 2009 at 10:50 am

aware, but in my head they’re related bc they are both dark…

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Ken O November 6, 2009 at 11:53 am

By that logic, Scotch = Irish = Bourbon = rum = brandy, and that’s just plain wrong, whatever side of the fence you hit the argument from!

Oh and it’s nothing personal, but if you get a real Scot going on the subject of Whisky vs whiskey, it’s red rag to a bull time! OK?

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That Kind of Girl November 6, 2009 at 1:35 pm

Hey now, pretentious slippery slope! Whiskey & whisky are both just distilled fermented grain mash. It’s nothing like the difference between whiskey and, for example, dark rum.

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Ken O November 9, 2009 at 5:18 am

Not necessarily TKOG. I can have had several drinks, ask for a Single Malt, be bought a blend, and then call whoever was buying the round on it for thinking I wouldn’t know the difference. I don’t think I have a particularly good nose or palate so, logically, there are differences!

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Rebel Mel November 6, 2009 at 2:22 pm

Whiskey is an acquired taste, I will tell you that. I, at one point, could slam down an entire bottle of Jamesons. But Jack Daniels? Even the smell of it gives me an immediate headache, which didn’t help last night when I was in Cambridge and the “bar” I went to didn’t have any other options besides Jack. And I use quotes when I say Bar because it was actually a basement with a pathetic bar, which didn’t even have soda guns. Just bottles of coke and sprite. They also didn’t have drafts, just 30 racks of Budweiser, and to top it off, a dixie cup of Jack and Coke cost me 6 bucks. I spent over 20 dollars on drinks, and didn’t come out of the place with even the slightest of a buzz.

But yes, the Plough and Stars. Never been, but I have a lot of friends that have played there. I hear it’s pretty tiny. One of these days I’ll check it out.

DRINK WHISKEY WIF ME.

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Dani November 6, 2009 at 2:32 pm

I’ve always been a whiskey girl, but i must say i never felt that full on “I can drink with the boys, like the boys, ain’t nothing girly about it” feeling till The Ex got me drinking single malt scotch.

Glad you were able to add a choice to your imbibing options. And hang in there, you’ll get that silver-screen bar exchange some day.

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Bri November 6, 2009 at 2:54 pm

I can’t drink beer. At all. And vodka, as lovely as it is in some ways, will put me to sleep. Actually, any alcohol, even one strong drink, will put me to sleep. I don’t get giggly or rowdy when I drink, I get blissfully sleepy.

And I drink like a girl…all it takes most times is one vodka laced something.
If not for the headache the next day, I’d drink more.

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f.B November 6, 2009 at 3:12 pm

I absolutely prefer heavier, darker liquor. Every time someone offers me vodka straight, I imagine I’m thisclose to finally living my nightmare of drinking rubbing alcohol straight from the bottle.

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That Kind of Girl November 6, 2009 at 4:21 pm

vodka is the worst! it’s only distinguishing characteristic is, when properly made, it’s supposed to taste like nothing. forget that noise. give me something with a real flavor profile any day!

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Paula November 6, 2009 at 3:37 pm

I soooo can’t do whisky, so good for you!

But then again, I can’t do brandy or gin either…

And as of last weekend, I have discovered I ALSO can’t do rum.

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Sadako November 6, 2009 at 4:50 pm

I’m in awe. I’m such a girl about drinking. Me and scotch? Not good bed fellows.

I totally want to be that girl who can knock back drinks with guys…ever since I saw Karen Allen in “Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark.” Ain’t gonna happen, I don’t think. I’m just too much of a lightweight.

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Fargo November 6, 2009 at 8:07 pm

Have you stumbled upon Behind The Stick? It’s a bartender’s blog, and quite a good read.

http://behindthestick.wordpress.com/

I have to say that I’m quite fond of a vodka tonic, and now I feel kind of bad about that.

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Sherri November 6, 2009 at 10:55 pm

When I was young and wild, back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, my BF[not forever] and I used to leave high school during lunch, steal her Dad’s whiskey and mix it with Slurpees from 7-11. That mix of artificial sweetners has ruined whiskey for me, forever.

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a girl that likes bread November 6, 2009 at 11:48 pm

i love all these people that are commenting! why? because i’d have a drink in a pub/divey bar with you girls any day of the week. pish posh on showing off oral skills with tongue twisting drink names. simple IS sweet. i, myself choose beer, but that’s only because i drink it — pinkie’s up.

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Francie November 7, 2009 at 10:45 pm

Right now, he’s probably buyin’ her some fruity little drink ’cause she can’t shoot whiskey…

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Jessica @ How Sweet It Is November 8, 2009 at 8:31 pm

I actually like whiskey a bit. It runs in the family…haha.

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scribbler50 November 9, 2009 at 12:51 pm

Fargo: Thanks for the mention.

NTKOG: Really enjoyed this post, completely enjoy this site. I’ll definitely be back.

Best,
Your friendly bartender at Behind the Stick.

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That Kind of Girl November 9, 2009 at 12:58 pm

!!!! omg! Blog crush moment! After Fargo linked me to your site, I completely killed my iPhone battery — shortly before a four-hour bus ride, no less! — reading through your archives! Your blog is beyond enchanting!

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Red Head November 9, 2009 at 1:47 pm

Oh dear Girl -
““That’s a man’s drink,” and me leaning against the bar, knocking back half the drink, then looking up at him — jaded, broken, but full of determination — “It’s a man’s world, buddy.””

Come to my bar and I promise you can have that exchange. Although my bar is in DC. On the upside, at my bar (love saying that), they fix my bourbon in a pint glass with only half ice and 1/4 diet coke.

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scribbler50 November 9, 2009 at 2:19 pm

Thank you, TKOG, and kudos back at ya’… another mutual admiration society born out there in the blogosphere. And I have to say, that’s the first time the word “enchanting” has ever been attached to me. (Don’t tell my friends.)

Talk to you down the road,
Scribbler

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Elliott November 11, 2009 at 6:11 pm

I am soooo a fan of whisk(e)y neat and still will not touch the Jack Daniels/Jim Beams of the world.

And that sounds like my kind of bar.

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