Just to ruin the start of the week for all you gin and tonic lovers…or, heck, anyone who drinks gin (which tastes like paint thinner to me)
How climate change could alter the flavour of your gin and tonic forever
The flavour of gin and tonic may never be the same again due to climate change, a new study has suggested.
Scientists have found that volatile weather conditions, could change the taste of juniper berries – the botanical that gives the spirit its distinctive taste.
It could make the drink less floral, sweet, citrus, woody, earthy or musty than its current flavour, according to scientists from Heriot-Watt University’s International Centre for Brewing and Distilling (ICBD).
The same species of berry grown in different parts of the world contain different flavour compounds, just like wine. This is dependent on rainfall and sunshine, according to the study, published in the Journal of the Institute of Brewing.
Researchers put this to the test by distilling berries from different regions across Europe. This included Albania, Bosnia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, Kosovo and Italy all from varying harvest years.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. They grew grapes and made good wines in the U.K. during the last Holocene warm period, the Medieval Warm Period. The climate is always fluctuating. Growing cycles change, growing areas shift. Such is life on Earth.
The spirits were analysed by separating the compounds of the gin using gas chromatography to measure the levels of key flavour compounds.
It confirmed that each region had its own distinct chemical profile, which impacts the overall flavour of the gin.
Do they actually think juniper berries for gin are currently grown in once place? Well, yeah, because they are cultists.
That’s where they are growing. Heck, I could go the State Farmer’s Market and buy some. And make gin. I wouldn’t, again, nasty.
Other than a small sip of wine at Communion, I don’t drink alcohol, so I’m not too terribly worried about this.
Gin makes a man turn mean.
Women too!
How does Mr teach know how paint thinner tastes?
You may talk o’ gin and beer
When you’re quartered safe out ‘ere,
An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ‘im that’s got it.
Now in Injia’s sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin’ of ‘Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them blackfaced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
He was “Din! Din! Din!
You limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!
Hi! slippery ~hitherao~!
Water, get it! ~Panee lao~! 1.
You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.”
The uniform ‘e wore
Was nothin’ much before,
An’ rather less than ‘arf o’ that be’ind,
For a piece o’ twisty rag
An’ a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment ‘e could find.
When the sweatin’ troop-train lay
In a sidin’ through the day,
Where the ‘eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,
We shouted “Harry By!” 2.
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
Then we wopped ‘im ’cause ‘e couldn’t serve us all.
It was “Din! Din! Din!
You ‘eathen, where the mischief ‘ave you been?
You put some ~juldee~ in it 3.
Or I’ll ~marrow~ you this minute 4.
If you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!”
‘E would dot an’ carry one
Till the longest day was done;
An’ ‘e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin’ nut,
‘E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear.
With ‘is ~mussick~ on ‘is back, 5.
‘E would skip with our attack,
An’ watch us till the bugles made “Retire”,
An’ for all ‘is dirty ‘ide
‘E was white, clear white, inside
When ‘e went to tend the wounded under fire!
It was “Din! Din! Din!”
With the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.
When the cartridges ran out,
You could hear the front-files shout,
“Hi! ammunition-mules an’ Gunga Din!”
I shan’t forgit the night
When I dropped be’ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should ‘a’ been.
I was chokin’ mad with thirst,
An’ the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.
‘E lifted up my ‘ead,
An’ he plugged me where I bled,
An’ ‘e guv me ‘arf-a-pint o’ water-green:
It was crawlin’ and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I’ve drunk,
I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
It was “Din! Din! Din!
‘Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ‘is spleen;
‘E’s chawin’ up the ground,
An’ ‘e’s kickin’ all around:
For Gawd’s sake git the water, Gunga Din!”
‘E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.
‘E put me safe inside,
An’ just before ‘e died,
“I ‘ope you liked your drink”, sez Gunga Din.
So I’ll meet ‘im later on
At the place where ‘e is gone —
Where it’s always double drill and no canteen;
‘E’ll be squattin’ on the coals
Givin’ drink to poor damned souls,
An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
Yes, Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,
By the livin’ Gawd that made you,
You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!