August 1995

I’m sitting on the floor of a thatch hut in the middle of a Malaysian jungle, when the tribal chief hands me a small cup of yellowish liquid. I don’t know what it is, but I’m pretty sure there will be intestinal consequences if I drink it. The friend who brought me there shoots me a look that says the consequences of refusing it will be worse. So I drink.

It’s not bad, as moonshines go. It was probably made from the root of some native tuber and fermented in the gut of a dead forest critter, but it only burns a little going down and there’s no aftertaste at all.

I’m not (yet) in the habit of collecting jungle hooch, but this stuff makes me feel like the Amerigo Vespucci of booze. I’m overcome with a compulsion to acquire a specimen and share it with the world.

I ask my friend if I can buy some to take home. She translates, and the chief grins. He pours a few ounces into a plastic bag, knots the top, and refuses to accept any payment.

Miraculously, the bag survives the canoe trip back to civilization, where I transfer its contents to a sturdier container that somehow makes it through U.S. Customs, no questions asked. I can’t wait to share it with my roommates.

Back at home, I pour a shot for each of us. We toast the chief, we clink, we swallow … and we agree that it’s the most disgusting stuff we’ve ever tasted.

Since that trip, part of the fun of traveling to faraway places has been lugging home unwieldy bottles of liquid souvenirs. Unfortunately, the drinks tend to fall into two categories:

• God-awful when removed from their native habitat.
• Pretty good to great, in which case they’re probably sold at Cost Plus.

Sometimes there’s a third kind, a delicious local liquor that has not yet been exported. The quest for that beverage is epic.

I don’t travel much these days (parenting a toddler means adventures of a different sort), but my liquor cabinet is full of mementos from my globetrotting days. I don’t drink much, either. But when I do, I drink for the joy of discovering new and usual flavors.

My goal at American Drink is to embark on some mixological expeditions to neglected corners of the bar, to push us away from the familiar and the comfortable in hopes of finding something different and amazing.

No passport required.

Posted at 7:29pm and tagged with: Introductions, Kim,.