Category: V
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Chablis Punch
In the innocent days of late 2019, I ordered a box of wines of Pynchonian pedigree. We’ve since knocked off the Constantia, the Pouilly Fuisse, the Tignanello, and the Zeltinger. But the bottle of Chablis has had to bide its time. It was destined to become punch, and opportunities to break out the punch bowl…
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Homemade wine
I started making wine at the very beginning of covid lockdowns in Melbourne. On Good Friday 2020, in a transaction illegal under the newly implemented social distancing laws, I picked up four boxes of grapes from the back of a Hilux at a servo on the side of a highway. I spent the drive there…
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151 and Pineapple Juice
Last week, we made burgers. Hailing as I do from the great state of Queensland, it was imperative I get a slice of tinned pineapple in there. Later in the week, another few slices made their way on top of a curry. Both applications were thoroughly delicious. (We will avoid the fraught question of pizza.)…
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A Fifth of Old Stagg
In Chapter 13 of V. (in which the yo-yo string is revealed as a state of mind) Profane has occasion to call in a favour Pig owes him. This sends our narrator digressing away on how the favour came to be owed, a tale involving Profane saving Pig’s own mortal bacon via a radar antenna…
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Something dark and fizzy
Last night—or actually, at 2 AM this morning, thanks to the magic of time zones—I had the pleasure of hanging out with the Pynchon in Public podcast crew for their upcoming 100th episode, reprising my role as token podcast drunk. Having previously inflicted Hpnotiq and vodka with vegetable soup on those fine people, I this…
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An abominable imitation of Munich beer
On page 203 of V, two fellows named Godolphin and Mantissa who I will not pretend to have any memory of meet in a German beer hall in Florence. The place serves, of course, krugs of genuine Munich beer. That delight I will save for a later date. Twenty-five pages later, the good stuff is…
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Chianti Rufina
We’ve been at this long enough now that some branches once heavy with low-hanging fruit are looking a little sparse. Lots of wine remains undrunk, but more and more of it is challengingly obscure and/or pricey. But never fear! I’m resourceful enough in hunting down obscurities and sufficiently irresponsibly profligate with my funds that the…
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Torpedo Juice
During WWII, US Navy torpedos were fuelled on 180 proof grain alcohol. So were the sailors. The torpedos had an easier time stomaching the stuff. Alcohol was (and is) more-or-less banned on Navy ships, and the higher-ups employed dastardly stratagems to keep the high-proof fuel out of the sailors’ bloodstreams. Early on, They spiked the…
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Home-brewed Beer
Pynchon fans can get a bit of a bad wrap—all pretentious weirdo dudes with neck-beards. Homebrewers have something of a similar reputation. In both cases of course, reality is far more capacious than the stereotypes. But you might expect some overlap between the two communities. Any other homebrewing Pynchonites out there? Pynchon’s characters lean towards the grape when…
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Vodka with Milk, Vegetable Soup, and Watermelon Juice
…so quoth a commenter when the Guardian books first introduced our frivolous little endeavour to the world. And I know of course one shouldn’t read the comments and less still feed the trolls, but I have been looking forward to this post ever since. As any true Pynchonite should realise, Pynchondom abounds with dedicated souls who wouldn’t blink at slurping…
Tom Pynchon's Liquor Cabinet 