As you may have read, I recently threw a party for the tenth anniversary of our bookish boozing here. No Tupperware was sold, but a fondue did get a little over-kirsched. Don’t be thinking that was our only Pynchonian drinking though! Guests were plied with a possibly excessive array of drinks, more or less entirely hailing from our favoured pages. There was a borderline lethal jug of margaritas, home-made wine and beer, and this: shots of hot sake chased with iced Champagne.

Midway through chapter six of Inherent Vice, Doc meets up with Motella, Lourdes, Cookie, and Joachin at a place called “Club Asiatique.” (We’ve been here before—see Singapore Sling). It’s a groovy place:

Glassware behind the bar, which might in some other type of saloon have been found too dazzling, here achieved the smudged cool glow of images on cheap black-and-white TV sets. Waitresses in black silk cheongsams printed with red tropical blossoms glided around on high heels, bearing tall narrow drinks decorated with real orchids and mango slices and straws of vivid aqua plastic molded to look like bamboo. Customers at tables leaned towards each other and then away, in slow rhythms, like plants underwater. House regulars drank shots of hot sake chased with iced champagne. The air was dense with smoke from opium pipes and cannabis bongs, as well as clove cigarettes, Malaysian cheroots, and correctional-system Kools, little glowing foci of awareness pulsing brighter and dimmer everywhere in the dusk.

Inherent Vice, p. 81.

Let’s assume my party was very much like that (like last time, the photos here are post facto, just empty bottles I’m afraid). Whether or not we had the opium pipes firing, there was certainly sake and champagne. I warmed up a bottle of Melbourne Sake “Koshi-Hikari”, and we chased it with some Mumm. Both were extremely tasty! I would happily make them regular specialties of the house.

Did I mention the champagne was from an enormous bottle? See “Low-Lands” from Slow Learner:

The ship had run into a heavy squall; all hands were running around securing booms and shifting cargo, and in the confusion the captain somehow got washed over the side. Porcaccio thus became master of the Deirdre O’Toole. The liquor supply had run out, however, so Porcaccio decided to head for Caracas and replenish. He promised the crew a jeroboam of champagne each the day Havana was captured.

Slow Learner, p. 70.

We had to share our single jeroboam amongst the crew, but it’s 3 L bulk proved sufficient for the hot sake chasing.