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giowritess · 4 years

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straight to my head [henry cavill]

masterlist

Pairing: Henry Cavill x bestfriend!female!reader

Request: “Hi! May you please write a Henry Cavill one where you’re hanging out with him and you have feelings for him but haven’t had the guts to tell him but that day your sister called you and you started speaking in Spanish to her about Henry but little did you know that he actually knew Spanish and he teased you about it. Happy ending please, thank you!”

Warnings: cursing, some angst, fluff

Word-count: 2,697

Author’s note: HEY GUYS! I can’t believe I’m finally posting my first writing piece here on Tumblr! It’s my first attempt at writing this kind of fanfiction (well, the second, actually), and I truly hope you like it, especially you, dear anon, who requested this. I did some changes, hope you don’t mind. This one was based on the song Straight to My Head, by You Me At Six, and I’d really like if you listened to it. A big thank you to my best friend, @naturiz for the Spanish part, and a big shoutout to my amazing beta/daughter/friend/love of my life @amirahiddleston <3333 I’d be lost without you!

gif credit goes to @b-n-a-o

Straight to My Head

You had never been the kind of person to enjoy dancing.

Yet, here you were, jumping, moving and swaying your hips to the beat of your favorite song in the middle of an empty dance floor. A little tequila-and-other-alcoholic-beverages-induced, yes — but you were happy, not even minding the glances you were getting. All the stress that had built up in the past few weeks had finally left your body, and you had your friends to thank for that. They were the ones who’d dragged you down here, to a cosy small pub. It had been way too long since the last time all of you had spent time together, and everyone seemed to benefit from a bit of fun and forgetting the real world.

Exactly as you were doing right now, completely oblivious to everything and everyone else. How good it felt to be trapped in your bubble, with nothing but your fuzzy mind and your favourite song.

“Didn’t know you could dance, y/n,” Henry teased, not far from you. You could even hear the smirk in his deep voice.

“Shut up, idiot,” you replied, snapping out of your bubble and walking closer to your friends.

“Seriously, though,” he insisted, grinning like a kid, “those were amazing dance moves. You should teach me.”

You just rolled your eyes, making him laugh, and tried to hide your smile. Your relationship with Henry had always been playful like this, ever since you met a couple of years ago. You two had been through a lot together — it was quite a fun and exciting journey to follow his success as an amazing actor that close, which meant celebrations, parties, even a few premieres.

As the boys got ready to play some pool, you stood in the back with a beer in hand, watching him — always him and no one else. You sighed as you watched him move with the ease and gracefulness of a cat. A big, fluffy cat who seemed to be serious and almost dangerous on the outside, but was nothing more than a playful little kitten on the inside.

The dim lighting in that corner of the room sent shadows over his godly features, the sight sending warmth up your core. He was always the most handsome man in the room. And in your head.

That was where he was. He’d taken over your thoughts ever since you met, and there was nothing you could do to take him out; he was already at home and wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You tried as hard as you could, even dated other people, but it was pointless. You still fell hard for him anyway.

But Henry was your best friend, and you were his. You talked about everything, helped each other with everything — even his own love life. It hurt you. Like hell, but there was nothing you could do about it but listen and be there for him when he needed, just like he did for you. His friendship is one of the most precious things on Earth to you, but that is all you were meant to be. He was yours, but not in the way you truly wanted.

Which was why sometimes it got too hard for you. Sometimes you had to step back and pull yourself together when it was too much for your heart. Seeing him with other women, especially when you knew he was happy, was far more than you could take, a pain you couldn’t avoid.

You straightened yourself up and dropped the bottle on the table. You needed to sober up. Being drunk around Henry was always a dangerous idea — you were a complete mess. Crazy, unpredictable and suddenly brave. The possibility that you’d end up saying or making anything that could lead to regrets and ruining your friendship was a giant risk — one you couldn’t take. So, you always tried your best to be as sober as possible, but tonight you desperately needed the freedom and release that only alcohol could give you. And he happened to be around.

“Be right back,” you muttered to no one in particular, making your way towards the ladies room. They were too entertained in their game to miss you, anyway.

Thankfully, the bathroom wasn’t crowded, just a few girls who seemed half your age, many who had probably got in with a fake ID. You went straight to the sink and splattered the cold water in your face one, two, three times. But it was the girls’ conversation that caught your attention.

“Did you see Henry Cavill playing pool by the back? Jesus fucking Christ, that’s Heaven made of flesh,” one of them said.

“Can you believe our luck? Gotta be fate,” the one applying mascara in front of the mirror replied.

They laughed together and started to make their way outside.

“I think I’m gonna try my luck, who knows,” you heard one of them say as they left the bathroom, and you gripped the sink with both hands, taking a deep breath.

You had no right to be angry with their words. In fact, you understood a-hundred-per cent how they felt — you felt that way almost all the time, too. But fuck. There was no way in controlling the anger that was taking over you, as well as the few lonely tears that escaped the corner of your eyes. There was nothing you could do about it but simply accept it. That was your job as his best friend.

After a few deep breaths, you pulled yourself together, and finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. Your anger alone, still tingling through your face, your arms, your fingers, had sobered you up some seventy-per cent by now. You stopped by the bar to buy some chocolate and was met with one of your friends.

“Hey y/n, wanna play some pool? We need someone,” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, eating the chocolate before you walked back to the pool table.

You grunted at the scene in front of you. The girls from the bathroom, one sitting in the back with her arms wrapped around one of your friends and the other one — the prettiest one, with long, dark hair and a beautiful black dress that hugged her body in the best way — tangled up with Henry, laughing and touching him whenever (and wherever) she could. Which meant all the time (and everywhere).

It wasn’t that this kind of thing didn’t happen often — it did, in fact; of course it would, when your group of friends had you as the only woman. And you didn’t care for your other friends, they could do whatever they wanted if it’d bring them a bit of happiness, even if momentary. But Henry was… Henry. He would never be like everyone else, and you couldn’t fool yourself or your heart to believe that.

“Girls, this is y/n,” your friend said, and the girls smiled at you.

You tried your best to look sympathetic.

“Hey, I’m Devon,” the one in the back waved at you.

“And this is Julia,” Henry told you and motioned at the girl beside him.

With another deep breath, you smiled and hoped it looked real enough.

You didn’t know what happened to you. You’d never been this jealous, you’d always been able to control your emotions and prevent them from rising to surface. But that night felt completely different. Probably because of all the alcohol, but there was no way you’d be able to look unaffected.

“Ready to kick some asses?” your pair asked, handing you the stick.

“Born ready, baby,” you replied, applying chalk to the end of the poolstick.

Julia was Henry’s partner, of course. He had to show her how to properly hold the stick and how to play, but you had your doubts if she truly didn’t know or was just pretending. Well, you’d pretend if you were in her shoes.

It was no surprise when you made the first ball — you had a natural talent for the pool. Especially when drunk. And angry.

The chocolate in your mouth felt bitter because you kept hearing Julia’s giggles and saw the way Henry touched her. Every fucking time she was going to play, he had to be glued to her back, lingering touches on her hand, her arms. It began to piss you off way more than you imagined.

You made a ball. And another, and another, and another. Four in a row, leaving only two of your balls on the table.

“Fuck, y/n,” your partner said, and laughed, clearly a bit shocked. “Where did that come from?”

“What can I say,” you replied, “the effects of anger.”

The game soon came to an end, you made the victory hit. You started another, trying your best to focus on the game and nothing else. But it was hard. It was so fucking hard when Julia and Henry didn’t even pretend to play properly, due to their drunken stupor and lust for one another. When his lips went closer to her ear, you finally snapped. There was no way in fucking hell you were going to endure that. No. Enough.

“I’m through,” you stated before dropping the stick on the table.

You didn’t care about the stupid game. All you wanted was to leave the pub, to get away, and cry and scream and fill up your sister’s inbox with countless messages rambling about it.

That was exactly what you did the instant you crossed the door, drinking in the cold night air and fishing for your phone. After finding her contact, your fingers started to fly across the keyboard, but you realized that wasn’t enough for how angry you were.

“No puedo creer lo enojada que estoy por eso [I can’t believe how mad I am],” you started. Of course, it’d be in Spanish, your mother tongue: it was the only way you truly could express your anger.

You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, but you had to say something, to get it out. There was a pressure in your chest that’d only be alleviated after you opened your heart to someone, obviously your sister.

“Tú no creerías lo tan enojada que estoy. ¡Pero ugh! ¡Simplemente no puedo controlarlo y no mames eso me deja demasiada enojada! [You wouldn’t believe how mad I am. But ugh! I just can’t control it and that makes me so fucking angry!]”

You sent that first audio message to her. You didn’t even have an internet connection, so she’d only receive it after you connected to wifi or something, but it didn’t matter. You just had to speak. Get it out of your system.

“Dios, desearía que pudieras verlo con tus propios ojos todos los toques y coqueteos. Simplemente me mandaron por un tubo y no sé cómo enfrentarlo, sabes? No hay ninguna explicación más allá de la verdad, que él debe haber entendido, de todos modos. O no, apuesto que Julia lo mantiene demasiado ocupado para que yo ocupe su mente [God, I wish you could see for yourself! All those touches and flirting. It just pushed me off the edge and now I don’t even know how to face him, you know? There’s no explanation besides the truth. Which he must have already figured it out, anyway. Or not. I bet Julia is keeping him too busy for me to occupy his mind at all],” you said in a single breath. There. Now you felt as if the weight was off your chest.

After pressing the “send” button, you took a much needed deep breath. The cold weather had a calm, soothing effect on you as you breathed in the night air; you could feel yourself getting calmer. Still angry, yes, but a bit calmer.

So trapped in your own space, you almost jumped when you heard his voice.

“No hay nada que nunca pueda sacarte de mi mente [There’s nothing that can ever keep you off my mind].”

Even in a perfect Spanish, his deep British accent was still present.

Oh, my, god. There he was, behind you, and you wanted to bury yourself six feet under and never, ever come out.

“Henry!” Your voice was a shriek. “I… I’m… I sh…” you stuttered, not knowing what to say. You could feel your heart pounding violently against your chest.

What to say, what to do, how to act. You had no idea Henry even spoke Spanish, and you sure as hell hadn’t expected him to follow you outside. Díos mio. Had he heard every single word you just said? You were glad that it was dark, ‘cause your face must’ve definitely been on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he said, making you look at him with a visible question mark on your face. “For making you feel like that. I did want to affect you, though, and I’m quite glad I did.”

“What? Henr—”

“See, y/n,” he interrupted you, “I had a theory, and you just proved it.”

He came closer, his beautiful face stepping under the thin lightning which made his baby blue eyes to shine. He hovered above you, like a lion over his prey, but you weren’t intimidated at all. Though confused and with your head spinning as fuck.

“My theory was that you and I feel the same way about each other,” he continued, getting closer and closer at each word that left his lips.

Díos. Were your dreams coming true? Was this real? Were you dreaming, or even seeing properly? You could hear your speeding heart, and you wondered if he could hear it, too.

“Henry, I… I’m… I’m lost in translation here,” you replied, your weak voice almost a whisper.

He had to say it. You needed to hear the words coming out of his very own lips, otherwise, it wouldn’t be real.

A low chuckle came from him. He left very little space between your faces when he got even closer and cupped your face with both hands.

“I’ve been falling in love with you ever since you entered my life, love,” he said. Your knees were weak, and you felt as if you were going to fall dead on the ground. “But you never gave me any signal that you felt the same. Until I started to notice the small details. Your face, your eyes, your hands. Your words, your expressions. The little things gave you away, y/n.”

The warm touch of his big hands on your face, all the love and tenderness with which he spoke every single word made your heart swell. No one had ever spoken with that much affection towards you, no one had ever held you that gently as he did. Your best friend. Your soulmate.

“So? Am I right then? He asked playfully, chuckling because you hadn’t said anything yet.

You felt as if a lightning bolt had just gone through you, your skin prickling.

“Yes!” You instantly said, feeling some tears on your eyes. “Yes, Henry, yes. You are. I don’t even know for how long I’ve loved you. I was… I was scared of ruining our friendship. I’m sorry, if I’d kno—”

He shushed you with a gentle kiss, timidly placing one of his hands in the back of your neck. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders.

“No regrets or apologies,” he murmured, touching your forehead with his. “Though I do regret the method I used to prove my point,” he said, chuckling. “I’m sorry. I was getting desperate and running out of options. I just couldn’t bear to spend another entire day being nothing more than friends with you,” he explained, his eyes locked with yours. One of his hands started tracing the line of your bottom lip. “Not being able to touch you, to kiss you… God knows how torture it was to be around you all this time.”

It was your turn to laugh. He felt exactly like you did, then.

“Henry?” You whispered. “Come home with me?”

An affirmation, an invitation, an order? You didn’t know. But all that mattered was his answer.

“Yes.”

A/N: I hope from the depths of my heart that you enjoyed it! For now I do not have a taglist, but if you’d like to be tagged in my future works, let me know <3

xoxo, Gio

#writing #fanfiction #gio writess #FIRST REQUEST #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill smut #fandom #dc

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

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Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 10 - Gogo

Disclaimer: So, this story is PG. Basically anything you might see come up in an old 90s sitcom, like Boy Meets World, Fresh Prince, Save by the Bell ect, is liable to show up along with anything that the parent shows cover. Nothing unsuitable for family entertainment, but clearly covering more mature subjects than the original source material, including today’s chapter which discusses alcohol.

Varian was hot. The sun beat down on the back of his neck and sweat began to trickle down his forehead. He couldn't remember experiencing a hotter day. In Corona the temperature wouldn't rise more than a balmy 15 degrees Celsius normally, but today, here in San Fansokyo, it had to be close to 20 or more. His phone said it was 73 degrees Fahrenheit specifically, but he was still getting used to the different measurements Americans typically used. All he knew was that he had worn the lightest clothes he had, a tank top and athletic shorts, and he was still burning up.

Unfortunately, there was nowhere to escape from the oppressive heat. He was standing on the sidewalk next to a stranger's house while Gogo worked on their car. She did repair work on vehicles as a side job. Often exchanging her services for a cheaper price to other students which in turn gave her more flexibility in what jobs she took and when.

Right now she was helping out another student whose car wouldn't start and didn't want to call a tow to take it to a mechanic. Varian had expressed an interest in learning how automobiles worked, so she had agreed to letting him come along and teaching him some basics. However, there was nothing for him to do at the moment. Gogo was under the vehicle on a rolling board and there wasn't enough room for both of them down there. So all Varian could do was standby and watch, which was difficult as he couldn't really see what she was doing from the position she was in now.

Instead he surveyed the street and surrounding buildings. There were the tightly packed three story townhouses behind them and on the other side of the street were clothing shops, apartments, a bank on the far street corner, and a single restaurant that read ‘Maggie’s Pub and Grill’. Varian licked his lips at the thought of drinking something cold and wet to stave off the blistering heat. He dug his hands in his pockets to check if he had any cash. He still had a fiver leftover from the twenty Wasabi had given him two weeks ago at the mall.

“Hey Gogo, I’m going to go get a drink, you want anything?” He loudly asked the girl lying under the car.

“Uhhh, a soda would be nice. Maybe some Mr. Pep.” Gogo yelled back at him, never leaving her position or stopping her work.

“I don’t know if they sell that there, but I’ll ask” and with that he walked away and headed across the street.

“Just knock on the door and ask Ashley if she has any...” Gogo said distractedly, not noticing that Varian was no longer there. After a moment or two without hearing an answer, Gogo suddenly rolled out from underneath the vehicle.

“Wait.” She said to no one in particular as she stared up at the sky and began to put together what had just happened.

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Varian squinted his eyes as he walked into the dark pub. The establishment was empty save for the barkeep at the other end wiping down the counter. This surprised Varian. In his world a place like this would be packed at this time of day, filled with field workers and sheepherders stopping to take their mid-day break. Practically his whole village would be gathered at the local tavern to eat, drink, and share gossip before going back to work. Varian had figured it would be even more crowded here given the larger city and the heat of day.

He shrugged his shoulders. Oh well, maybe the food here wasn’t all that good. Didn’t matter, all he wanted was a drink. He walked over to the bar.

“Hi, do you sell any, what was it she asked for,” Varian waved hello at the man on the other side and then cupped his chin in thought as he tried to recall what it was Gogo had wanted. “Pep?” He finished.

The large man didn’t answer him back, only to wordlessly reach under the counter and pull out a can of the soda and set it down.

“Oh, yes, that’s it. Also I’ll have your darkest ale, please.”

“I.D.” The man said deadpan.

“Excuse me?” Varian asked, not sure what the man was requesting.

“I need to see your officially licensed identification.” The man explained tiredly, as if he had to recite this often.

“Uh, I have my student I.D. if that’s what you want.” Varian said, confused, as his hand went back into his pocket to dig out his wallet and money.

The big man gave a heavy sigh and pointed to a sign placed in front of the cash register. ‘In Accordance to Federal Law all Patrons must be 21 or older to purchase alcohol and must show valid I.D.’ It read.

“You need a government issued license or passport, kid.” The barkeep said with annoyance, clearly believing Varian was there to try and pull some scam.

Varian, however, could only stare at the sign in bewilderment, still frozen in place with his hand in his pocket. His mouth hung open in astonishment as he tried to process what was going on. The amount of reliance on forms and identification in this world was odd enough but now there were laws against beer? That was practically all anyone drunk in his world. Coffee, tea, and cocoa were expensive and meant as a treat, and the only drinking water to be had were from the community wells, the river being brackish that close to the sea, and you still had to take time to draw the water. Which you didn’t want to do every time you were thirsty. And while this world did have running water, less expensive hot beverages, and that sugary soda in abundance; he still couldn’t figure out why that would be the cause for preventing anyone from buying an ale, let alone people under such an arbitrary age.

“But… but why?” He whined in confusion.

Just then Gogo burst through the door, stormed to up to the front counter, and before Varian could complain to her about this dumb rule, she grabbed him by the ear and proceeded to drag him back outside.

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It wasn’t until they had made it back across the street did Gogo relinquish her grip on Varian.

“What were you thinking!” She whirled on him angrily.

Varian only stood there and looked at her, still befuddled and ruefully rubbing his ear where she had pinched it.

“You’re only sixteen!” She yelled, as if this was the most obvious explanation for her righteous anger.

“So? You’re only eighteen.” He retorted back. As if she had any right to berate him in such a manner when she was only two years older.

“I’m an adult,” She explained. “But that’s not the point. You’re a child. You don’t need to be drinking or trying to trick bartenders that you’re older.”

“I’m not a child!” Varian responded, properly angry now himself. “What makes you any different?”

“I can hold down a job, pay rent, buy groceries, I can vote.” She began to list off what she thought were requirements for adulthood.

“Sooo can you drink?” Varian interrupted as he pointed back to the bar.

“Well, no.” She admitted, temporarily tripped up by that question. However, the smug look on Varian’s face renewed her annoyance with him. “You can’t even buy a hamburger without someone’s help.”

“Just because I’m new to this world, doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.” He said, deeply offended by that last remark.

“Oh really, and when’s the last time you had to buy your own food, or clothes, or live on your own?” She asked skeptically.

“I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen!” He snapped.

Then just as suddenly he stiffened with surprise, he hadn’t meant for that to come out. Both he and Gogo stared at each other, herself equally in shock by his revelation. He quickly turned his head away, bit his lower lip, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He just stood there awkwardly unwilling to look her in the eyes.

For Gogo’s part, she felt her heart drop the moment he had said it. What did he mean ‘on his own’? Who’d leave a fourteen year old to fend for themselves? Didn’t he say he had a dad? But before she could ask for some clarity, Varian spoke again.

“Look, I’m sorry,” He said defensively, “I didn’t know about the alcohol rule. It won’t happen again.” He put his hands up in defeat and then walked away from her and the conversion. Making his way back to the car, he picked up a wrench and began to tighten a socket. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing but anything to keep himself busy and to avoid any more uncomfortable arguments.

Gogo watched him with increasing worry. She wanted to know more, to help him, but she could tell from his stance and his behavior that he wasn’t willing to talk about it. She knew all about avoiding feelings and bottling up one’s problems. Not that long ago she had been a moody teenager who shoved people away, too. Heck, she still was a moody teenager that shoved people away. Though she had gotten better since she started college. It was amazing how much difference only two years could make.

Before she had met Tadashi and her other friends, she had been a pretty lonely person. Constantly bullied in grade school and struggling with depression, she was considered the weird emo kid that always sat quietly in the back of the class. However, no matter how bad things had gotten, no matter how many fights she got into at school, nor now many times she cried into her pillow at night, she had always, always had her dad to turn to. Even now she still relied on the man, rushing to him to bare her soul when Tadashi had died, unable to bring herself to talk to anyone else about her recent loss.

Who did Varian have? She wondered. If his father wasn’t there for him, then who did he turn to for help? Why had he even been left alone?

Her thoughts were broken when Varian let out a yelp of pain. He had burned his hand on the hot metal and proceeded to stick his fingers in his mouth to suck on the injured digits, still not looking at her, embarrassed by his clumsiness.

She let out a weary sigh. He was a mess. But so was she, and she didn't know how best to reach him. What would dad do? She thought. Try to get her to open up about a subject that she did enjoy or distract her with a project, she decided.

"Sooo, Wasabi tells me you want to learn how to drive." Gogo said, changing the subject while she slowly made her way over to stand next to him.

"Yeah." Varian agreed quietly, keeping his eyes on the engine, still choosing to not look at her. "But because I just moved here I wouldn't be able to get my license for another six months. I'm not sure I'll still be here by then." And with that he ducked back under the hood.

This didn't sound encouraging to Gogo. If he truly was on his own then what was he going back for? But she knew bringing her doubts up would only push him away further.

"Well, if you are still here in six months, you'll need a car to drive around in." She suggested instead.

This grabbed Varian's attention and he finally stopped to look back at her. "Whatd'ya mean?"

"Well it's just, if you want to still learn how cars work, then perhaps we can build one, together. That way if Wasabi helps you get your license then you'll have your own vehicle to ride in." She continued slowly.

"You… you mean it?" Varian hopefully asked.

"Sure, we can work on it in our free time." She said encouragingly.

"Yeah? Yeah! That... that’d be great. I'd really like that." Varian agreed.

He smiled appreciatively at Gogo and she returned it in kind.

"Of course the first thing you'll need to learn is what socket you need to tighten or not." She gently teased, pointing to the socket he had busied himself with for the past few minutes to no avail.

"Oh, right." He laughed in embarrassment and finally stopped trying to use the wrench.

"Here, let me show you how to check the oil." She said and thus the day passed without further incident, just the two of them laughing and bonding over cars.

#varian #GoGo #tangled the series #BH6 the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled #big hero six #bh6 #tts #rta #of rocks and robots

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hwangdol · 5 years

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h.mh: i’m (not) fine.

part of the We Can’t Be Friends Series

pairing: college!hwang minhyun x fem!reader

note: see, i’m not dead! school has just been a bitch and i haven’t really had any motivation to write but! i finally got hit by lightning and i saw the holy god hwang minhyun. anyways i’m making this into a little series for minhyun because i feel like the story i want is the best express this way. i’m a heavy curser so this also contains a shit ton of curse words. and since this is set as a college!au, there’s gonna be some more mature themes compared to my other fics and the format is a little different.

read the preview to get a little insight (don’t necessarily need to but it would be recommended)!!!

“i’m fine,” you stressed.

your phone was pressed to your check with your shoulder as you placed some of the carrots you selected into a plastic bag, throwing it into your shopping cart once you finished.

“i’m not sure i believe that,” your long-time bestfriend, kim jaehwan, said from the other side.

you rolled your eyes at his comment. it’s been about two months since minhyun’s sudden break-up and you were doing just fine. well, at least that’s what you told everyone.

switching the phone to the other ear, you lazily pushed the shopping cart forwards. it was currently two in the morning and here you were, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts on a friday night, grocery shopping.

“you’ve barely been out since the two of you broke up!” jaehwan pointed out.

“i’m grocery shopping right now!” you argued back, turning your cart down the juices and drink aisle. jaehwan had a habit of stealing your precious ice yea. “i’m buying vegetables and all of that adult shit.”

“dude, we both know that you’re only grocery shopping because your mom has been nagging you for weeks and you need to have physical proof that you’re a fully-functioning adult, which i might have to add, you’re not.”

“shut up,” you muttered, eyes scanning for your favorite drink. “whose fault is it that i have completely bare cabinets and fridge? you practically inhale all of my food.”

“it’s payment for keeping your depressing ass company when i can do better things with my time.”

“excuse you, i am not depressing, i’m merely sweating from my eyes every night,” you replied back. picking up a pack of your sweetened ice tea, you placed it into the shopping cart. “did you want anything? might as well buy your fat ass something while i’m here.”

“booze.” was jaehwan’s replied. “get the good shit, not the one that tastes like donkey piss.”

“fine, you fucking alcoholic,” you sighed. sadly the alcohol aisle was in another area despite it also being a beverage, which meant that you had to walk even further.

“anyways, how do you feel about going back into the scene again?”

“no,” you quickly replied. “i’m not doing that shit again”

“i’m not talking about being in a serious relationship.”

“what do you mean then?”

“i think it’s time for y/n to return to the hoe life,” jaehwan said. “i’ve been missing my thotty bestie.”

“you really think it’s a good time for me to get blackout drunk every staturday night again?”

“hey, you were the one that said you’re doing fine,” jaehwan countered with your own words. “i think we need to transition out of the i’m-so-sad-i-miss-him phase and into lets-get-fucking-hammered.”

“we?”

“you act like you’ve been going through a breakup alone. this has been a team effort, it's like i’ve been dumped too,” he replied as if if made sense. and according to jaehwan logic, it did.

a small smile picked up the corners of your lips, typical jaehwan.

he was a friend that's been with you through everything little up and down since middle school. despite his blunt words, jaehwan was the first person that you called after the breakup and watch as you went through three pints of strawberry cheesecake ice cream and ten thousand boxes of tissues. not to mention, he even offered to beat your ex-boyfriend up in multiple violent ways.

jaehwan was the best bestfriend you could possibly ask for.

turning the cart into the alcohol aisle, you asked, “what type of booze do you want? the sweet type or the sophisticated one?”

“the one we can pregame with for the party tomorrow” your friend stated.

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words got trapped in your throat once your eyes laid upon a familiar figure debating between two bottles of wine.

“i’m taking your sudden silence as a yes to the party-”

he didn’t seem to notice you yet as he was heavily invested in making a decision between two bottles of wine, so you quickly turned around and stopped in another aisle.

“holy shit,” you breathed out.

“why? did something happen?”

“he’s fucking here right now,” you spilled out.

“who?”

“you know who!” you whispered aggressively in fear that he could hear you. “i just saw hwang minhyun in the alcohol aisle!”

“oh.” he said. “that’s not good.”

“fuck your alcohol jaehwan, i’m going home,” you said, not wanting to return to the aisle next to you in fear of facing the last person you wanted to see right now.

“wait! hold on,” jaehwan argued. “we need the booze so stop being a pussy and listen to me. if he’s buying alcohol at two in the morning, it doesn’t really show that he’s in the best of shape right now so just go for it.”

“jaehwan, did you forget that i’m also going to buy alcohol at two in the morning?” you pointed out. “doesn’t exactly say i’m-doing-perfectly-fine-without-you to me either”

“at least you have a shopping cart full of vegetables to back you up,” jaehwan try to reason. “and the other adult shit you bought.”

“i have a total of two vegetables in my cart, jaehwan.” you said. “not a fucking farmers’ market.”

“just go for it. he’s not someone in your life anymore so it shouldn’t matter what he thinks,” jaehwan reminded you. “i have an essay due at like six so i’m gonna go bs it, but you really need to grow a pair and buy my booze. i’ll see you tomorrow night and you better pull out that one hoe-y dress of yours.”

and the called ended with a small beep.

fuck, you thought to yourself. you contemplated on whether or not you really wanted to face minhyun right now.

maybe you were lying a tad bit when you told everyone that you were okay and that you were doing just peachy without him. maybe it was a small white lie that you told to reassure everyone around you and maybe yourself. maybe you were still in love with him. maybe.

biting on your lip, you finally made the decision to just suck it up and do it. if anything, you could just drown yourself in alcohol tomorrow. a perfect back-up plan, kinda.

when you looked back to the aisle, minhyun was still there, except there was another bottle replacing one of the others you saw in his hands earlier. minhyun had always been particular with his food from what you could recall. actually, from what you know.

perhaps you could just shimmy your way past him (who was standing straight in the middle of the aisle) and perhaps he wouldn’t even notice it. so with some resolve, you charged (not really) forward to get past him to get to where the tequila was.

except, minhyun was a very hypersensitive person that becomes ten times alert once someone enters his little personal bubble. it was something that you once that was endearing and unique, now, it was the bane of your existence.

as you tried to pass by behind him quietly, his head whipped and made eye contact with you.

you froze as minhyun’s eyes widened once he registered who you were.

he opened his mouth to say something, but you muttered a quick excuse me before passing by him. you ignored his stares and the heavy silence as you beelined towards the tequila section.

you quickly placed in two bottles (and maybe a third) and prepared to leave when you heard his small voice you missed so much.

“how are you?”

you bit the inside of your cheek, should you respond?

you did anyways.

“i’m fine.”

you pushed your cart away to quickly escape, wondering exactly who you were saying it too. minhyun? or yourself?

you were a fool to think that you were okay when you were the entire opposite.

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a-tired-bass · 6 years

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Ares, Dionysus, Hera, Hypnos, Kronos, Nyx, Selene and Zeus!

I had like. A paragraph written for each of these questions. And then tumblr glitched and just erased. All of them. I am LIVID. I will try my best to recreate what I had written, or really just write the stuff anew.

Ares: What small thing makes you angry?

Incompetencies, especially of those who claim they’re experts or professionals on a subject. Or people who do things in an objectively wrong fashion. Those are particular pet peeves of mine. But when it comes to something small, it has to be the inability of people to sense the world around them. I’m talking particularly of the kind of people who amble on a sidewalk, walking side to side at random, and taking up the entire sidewalk when I am right behind them walking at a now much-restricted pace and trying to get past. Pay some attention to your surroundings people!

Dionysus: Do you drink alcohol? If so, what’s your beverage of choice?

I’m mostly a social drinker and rarely buy alcohol for myself when I’m alone. On the rare occasion that I do, I generally drink enough to get tipsy for 1 or 2 nights and then have a now half-empty bottle of said alcohol sitting on my desk for however long it takes for me to decide I want to drink them again (I have a bottle of vodka on my desk right now that I got a very long time ago, half emptied it in a week, and have had 1 or 2 shots worth since then - which was maybe a year ago). The one exception to that was when I bought a bottle of arak and was drunk for an entire week because all I did was sit at home, playing video games and constantly sipping at it as though it were water (1. I did drink water during that week, otherwise, I’d be dead, 2. That was actually a very social week for me because all of my mates were on holidays so I spent almost every hour of my awake time chatting with them online, 3. I’m so glad arak is not cheap or easily available here in any way cause oh boy that would be bad for me). But, to actually answer the question! My drink of choice is usually an apple cider (hot tip, put a shot of spiced whisky in your cider), or occasionally, a vodka concoction of some kind (usually vodka lemonade or something simple - cocktails are prohibitively expensive).

Hera: Are you the jealous type?

Oh yes, absolutely. I’m not an envious person, I don’t want what other people have (except a healthier and more stable mind/body, but that’s a different matter). But I am very, very much a jealous person. When I have something, or someone close to me, I don’t want to let that go, and in particular, I don’t want someone else taking it from me. This applies to both relationships and friends. I tend to feel awful when something changes with my relationship with mates or our plans because of someone else. But oh boy, let me tell you, my head was REAL screwy working out that I am very jealous person in my last relationship (not that it wasn’t screwy after working out that I was jealous, just that once I understood my emotions I could come more to terms with them and behave more appropriately). Ultimately, it played a big part in the termination of my relationship of course, but that’s another story.

Hypnos: What was your most recent dream about?

Unfortunately, I don’t really remember. My memories of dreams fade very rapidly, and unless they’re particularly fresh, vivid, memorable, recurring (regular dream, or alas, nightmare), I can generally only give the gist of what it was about. For example, all I can tell you about the final dream I had last night was that it was sexually inclinated, which is honestly pretty uncommon for me.

Kronos: What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever eaten?

Don’t know really. I was never the kind of kid who ate strange things, and I don’t think that regional foods like haggis, pâté, or blood sausage count, though I’ve eaten and disliked them. However, I can unequivocally say the stupidest thing I’ve licked is a light bulb. Have no clue why I did that. Or why I did it a second time. I recall it tasted salty.

Nyx: What’s your favorite nighttime activity?

To answer boringly, sleep. To answer less boringly, it’s play games with friends - 2 nights a week, I meet up with mates to play role-playing games (currently, ‘Call of Cthulu’ and ‘Star Wars’). Other nights, if people aren’t busy, we will occasionally just hop on voice chat in discord and play games on our computers, whether together or just on our own, but with the pleasure of each other’s virtual company. I’m not a clubbing kind of person - I don’t like loud, unregulated spaces, so clubs, or even loud bars, generally make me very uncomfortable. I am a very digital person, so virtual company to me is very much valued by me - sure, it’s not quite physical company, but it has its own merits. Given that I am a very digitally inclined person, and that I am somewhat of a night owl, my 'nighttime’ is merely just shifted around the clock a couple of hours, as really the only difference is that I have some house lights on. Time is an abstract concept that doesn’t truly exist, it is merely a system of measurement that we use to organise ourselves. For me, time is often generally only relevant to what my body is demanding (breakfast has been at midday for me for the past several weeks for example), and my commitments to others.

Selene: What’s your favorite phase of the moon?

Full moon, without a doubt. Gibbous moons (waxing or waning) came close, and I’ll always have a place in my heart for a good old Cheshire Cat Crescent moon, but full moon definitely wins. I have very good eyesight, and the illumination of a full moon generally allows me to walk around in the dead of night with no other forms of light barring the stars. Something about being able to see clearly when there should be naught but black outside strikes a whimsical and magical chord in my heart.

Zeus: What do you think about thunderstorms?

I adore thunderstorms. Of all meteorological events that I have experienced, thunderstorms unequivocally have the highest place in my heart. I wouldn’t be particularly thrilled to be caught in one, but to listen to one as I’m falling asleep is one of the most calming things I have ever experienced. To sit and watch one on a balcony fills me with such awe that I can’t help but be amazed and rejoiced by their presence. To wrap myself up in something warm and cozy and curl into a chair to watch the rainfall and lightning strike is always a wonderful time to me, and one of my favourite ways to spend hours. I love the sound of thunder, the deep rumble of a distant strike echoing through the sky, its very depths creating a vibration I can feel in my bones. The sharp crack of a nearby strike, a tremendous sound which pierces the heavens and for a moment you hear nothing else. I love seeing lightning strike out in the distance, counting the seconds from when I see it flare brilliantly into existence and disappear in moments, and marvel at the speed in which this sound of glorious magnitude has travelled kilometres to reach me. I love watching as they flare behind and inside the cloudbanks, illuminating them in brilliantly clear silhouettes for a few seconds. I love to watch as the lightning forks down to the ground, each individual stream of tremendous energy roaring it’s way through a resistant sky (seriously watch this in slow-motion, it’s beautiful). I love the smell of the world, the petrichor of the earth, wet by the rain, or the sharp, bitter smell of ozone. I love the aftermath of a storm, the wet dewdrops on leaves, puddles reflecting a newly blue sky or clear mirror of the stars, the scorch marks or beautiful patterns of ground or trees struck by lightning, the pillars of glass bursting into the sky from sand. I love how this amazing and awesome power just exists, completely oblivious and unadulterated by us, existing before, after, and regardless of us.

I am infinitesimally small when it comes to the majesty of lightning, and thunderstorms have left me in tears of wonderment.

On the other hand, getting caught in a thunderstorm in an open field is a different and entirely terrifying concept.

—

Have another completely new set of answers. Apparently, I was in a very wordy mood tonight. Thank you so much for the questions though @greyjioys !!! It’s always fun, and for some reason, these in particular were quite thought inspiring.

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wineanddinosaur · 3 years

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VinePair Podcast: How We’re Getting Out of Our Drinks Comfort Zones

This week on the “VinePair Podcast” — in Adam Teeter’s absence — Zach Geballe and Joanna Sciarrino take over hosting duties to discuss how imbibers can get out of their drinks comfort zones. After listing what they have been drinking recently — including Calvados and Syrah — our hosts dive into a discussion about what prohibits people from exploring the unfamiliar in the drinks world.

Geballe and Sciarrino discuss how the food and drinks worlds differ in terms of adventurousness, and why so many consumers stick to the same few beverages every time they drink. Our hosts then discuss which beverages they plan to try ahead of next week’s podcast in order to get out of their own drinks comfort zones.

If you have any thoughts on drinks comfort zones, please send your ideas to [email protected].

Listen Online

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Or Check out the Conversation Here

Joanna Sciarrino: From VinePair’s New York City headquarters, I’m Joanna Sciarrino.

Zach Geballe: In Seattle, Wash., I’m Zach Geballe, and this is the “VinePair Podcast.”

Z: Joanna, it’s just you and me running the show today.

J: Just us.

Z: Adam is off doing business stuff who knows where. I mean, we know where, but he’s got meetings and we got the show. Let’s start with this. What have you had to drink that you’ve been excited by or at least interested in?

J: My in-laws actually visited this past weekend from Toronto, after not seeing them for 16 months, so that was very nice, very joyous. We went to a bunch of our local spots to show them around. We revisited Brandy Library, which I have mentioned here before, and I did a Calvados tasting there, which was really cool. I don’t know much about brandy to begin with, but I wanted to check it out. I’ve also been watching a lot of period dramas in England, and they drink a lot of brandy.

Z: Yes, large snifters are full by the fireplaces.

J: It looks so great so I did that and that was really great.

Z: Yeah, so I am actually curious about your thoughts on this. There are these categories in beverage alcohol for me where I bet I could end up really far down a rabbit hole here, but I’ve never been to Normandy, in northwestern France where Calvados is made. I haven’t had that firsthand experience of seeing and tasting it. Now, I’ve tried some Calvados. I like it, but I know that there’s potential. For me, other things that fall into that category are like sake, for sure. I enjoy it but I will freely admit that my knowledge of it is pretty cursory, even though I know there’s an incredible amount of it. Then the other one, which is non-alcoholic, which Adam has given me shit for in the past, is tea. I also find it to be deeply fascinating but again, I only have so much time and brain space for it. Are there things like that for you? Something you could get into, but for whatever reason, either it’s intimidating or you just don’t have the time.

J: Honestly, wine.

Z: OK, fair.

J: Don’t judge me but that is one category where it seems completely endless.

Z: That is true.

J: I can scratch the surface, but there’s just so much to learn about and to know. I would say wine for sure and those other ones as well. I wouldn’t consider myself an expert in sake or even tea — or brandy, clearly. I think any specific category, even just spirits in general, there’s so much to know.

Z: Yes, for sure. Well, I think Calvados is very much rooted in a place. Some of the spirits, like whiskey, are obviously in a much larger category. There are many different styles, many different places and you can make whiskey anywhere. You can make an apple or pear brandy, I suppose, anywhere that you grow apples or pears, but Calvados is really tied to a specific place. To me, it feels more self-contained. You don’t have to learn about the 50 different countries that make Calvados. If you want to know about it, you don’t really have to dive into different types of apple trees, age requirements, etc. Yet, I don’t doubt that it’s super interesting. In a different life, maybe that’s a thing that I’m even more passionate about, but I also look at it as let’s just not because I’m not going to go down that particular rabbit hole. I’m sure it is delicious and no shade to those who make and enjoy Calvados but it’s also a very small part of the drinks world. So, there are things I’d rather be an expert on, or at least more knowledgeable about.

J: Yeah, for sure. What about you, Zach? What have you been drinking?

Z: I have to tell a little bit of a story, I apologize. I really do feel like I’m turning into Adam in this episode, but it’s all right.

J: Someone has to take his place.

Z: I guess so. Well, this last weekend I had a get-together at my dad’s house that we’ve held every other year, but obviously we didn’t do it last year because of the pandemic, and so we pushed it back to this year. The genesis of it is a trip I took with my dad to Walla Walla about seven years ago now. While we were there, we were having dinner at a restaurant in Walla Walla. Walla Walla is a relatively small town, and you run into a lot of wine people there because a lot of the industry is there. My dad and I were having dinner, and at the table next to us was a winemaker who I know a little bit, and he had a guest with him. I said hi, and then I noticed that the guest had brought a shipping box for one bottle of wine. He pulled this bottle of wine out of the container and everything. I thought this was interesting because this person brought this wine from somewhere else to have dinner with the winemaker, so it’s probably a special bottle of wine. I am keeping an eye on it and I don’t recognize the label or anything. It’s a French wine, but that’s about all I can tell because I’m trying not to be in their business. Eventually, I went over to talk a little more and I asked, “Hey, what is this wine you brought?” The guy who is joining the winemaker I knew said, “Oh, well this is a wine I make in Languedoc.” The other winemaker makes a lot of Syrah, and he wanted him to try his Syrah. I thought that was very cool. He asked, “Do you wanna try it?” I said, “Sure, do you mind if I grab a little bit for my dad, too?” So he poured us a little bit of the wine and we took it over and I didn’t know anything about it. I had never seen the label before and my dad and I were both very struck by the wine. We really enjoyed it — I think my dad did a little more so than me, but that’s cool. My dad became mildly obsessed with this wine, which is very hard to find in the U.S., which explains why the winemaker shipped it from France, I guess, but from somewhere not in Washington for sure. Eventually, about a year and a half later, my dad was in that part of France and decided to go buy some of the wine and bring it back with him. He did, and bought four bottles. At this dinner, it was the third of four but these dinners center nominally around this wine. Inevitably, other wine comes along with it, too. Everyone brings some wine, and it’s a very festive dinner. It was really cool because in this example, we had three different French Syrahs. We had this wine called Clos des Truffiers from Languedoc. We had wine from Hermitage, which is one of the preeminent appellations in the northern Rhône. Then, a wine from Hervé Souhaut, which would fall into this natural wine heading, but not particularly funky, just brighter and fresher. Also, not aimed at decades of aging, although this one was a 2015 and still quite lively, so I’m sure it would age quite well. It was really cool. I love Syrah. It’s one of my favorite varieties, and it’s always fun to see it in three different expressions from three different parts of France. Since the pandemic, I haven’t had this gathering of a bunch of people, some family and some friends who are really into wine that was really wine-centric. We’ve had other gatherings such as birthday parties, but nothing quite like this. It was a lovely afternoon and evening. Fortunately, I didn’t have to drive myself anywhere, so it was even better.

J: Do you have a specific meal for these dinners?

Z: It depends, we’ve done different things in the past. This year, the centerpiece was actually some brisket that my dad, along with my cousin, who’s an accomplished author of some books about cooking meat — brisket and otherwise — they worked on it together, which is cool because they got up at 3 in the morning to switch something in the process. I just showed up and ate it, and it was delicious. Very, very good. Brisket plays nice with a lot of things, including Syrah.

J: That sounds so nice.

Z: It was indeed. All right, so let’s talk a little bit about our topic for today. You and I were talking a little bit about how this thing has affected us and will continue to affect us. I’m talking specifically in this drink space, of course. It is this idea that I think a lot of people during the pandemic, specifically as relates to their drinking, were — by dint of being mostly stuck at home and not afforded some of their usual options — had to take themselves out of their own comfort zone. We think about this a lot with people who really experimented for the first time with making drinks at home. Sometimes it was about exploring things in the world of beer, wine, or spirits that they were unfamiliar with. I think it’s fair to say that both you and I see going out of one’s comfort zone as a good thing, generally. I wanted to start with this question of how do you personally push yourself out of your drinks comfort zone? I mean, do you? And how do you do that?

J: Yeah, sure. To share first, there are certain things that I order or prefer or drinks that I know that I like. I guess that can be considered my comfort zone. However, I’m never reluctant to really get outside of that or to order outside of that. For me, it’s really about trying things that I’ve never had before, and I always have a willingness to do that, I suppose. It doesn’t feel like I’m ripping myself out of my comfort zone to try new things, but I would say that’s essentially how I do it. Yet, there’s a caveat there. There are some things that I know I don’t care for or don’t love so much. An example of this would be IPAs (don’t @ me), bitter or hop-forward beers that I know I don’t love, but I’ve been trying to have more of those recently to find ones that I do like. I do like hazy IPAs. I know they’re not quite the same, but I like them more. It is also to better understand your culture and something that’s happening in beer culture right now in this hype around the specific thing. Part of it is trying things that I’ve never had before and just discovering what I like and what I don’t like. The other thing is maybe revisiting things that I haven’t had great experiences with in the past to see if something hasn’t changed.

Z: I think you really hit on something that’s important for me in this conversation, which is there is a fundamental difference between something you’ve tried and didn’t enjoy. You have tried different IPAs and they just don’t work for you. The flavor profile isn’t what you’re looking for. That’s one thing, but I think there’s this other part of the comfort zone or getting out of one’s comfort zone, which almost speaks to who you are in the world, who you are as a person. When something is unfamiliar, does someone view that skeptically as something that could be bad, or excitedly as something that is likely good? I suspect that you and I both generally have that disposition. I don’t know if that’s a thing that in your life first expressed itself in other categories. For me, I was always a really adventurous eater as a child, which translated into being an adventurous drinker, for better or worse, as an adult. I know we have listeners out there who feel overwhelmed by the idea of all the choices that are out there. I do think it’s an attitudinal position — whether you look at an unfamiliar wine, beer, spirit, or cocktail as something interesting that you can, at a minimum, can learn from, or likely something scary. Again, this is not meant to be judgmental. I think you and I have our own dispositions and opinions about this, but I think it’s totally reasonable to look at a lot of what’s out there with some skepticism because sadly, there are a lot of not-great products that exist. Sometimes you can get disappointed. If you don’t know how to either steer yourself away from those or deal with it if you get something disappointing, that’s one piece. Now, I think part of what prompted this conversation was that I like to try things out at home. I like to play around with cocktails. We’ve talked a couple of times in recent episodes about my Paper Plane riffing, which is just riffing on a riff because a Paper Plane is really just a Last Word riff. To me, I’m OK with making something and knowing it is not very good. I may or may not drink it, depending on how I feel but I think this is something that I want to communicate and then I want to get your thoughts. I built cocktail programs before and cocktail lists, and when you’re designing a new cocktail, you go through dozens of iterations before you get it right. Sometimes you nail it on the first couple of tries because you have a sense of what’s going to work. If you’re trying to do something that really doesn’t have the established framework, of course, you’ve got to figure out proportions. One of the cool and scary things about cocktails — and is also true in blending wine — is it is not always a simple linear thing. You think that adding a tiny bit more of one ingredient will just nudge the cocktail and sometimes it does, and sometimes it sends it spiraling out of control. That is the fun of it. When you’re doing this professionally at a bar, you usually have the budget for the stuff that goes down the drain. I don’t know, I am rambling. I apologize, Joanna, but I want your thoughts.

J: Actually, after you told us about riffing on the Paper Plane and what you were trying and what you were hoping to do, I really racked my brain trying to come up with other suggestions for you after you mentioned blue Curaçao, and I couldn’t. I wanted to sit down and actually try things to see what would work with the tequila, Cynar, and orange liqueur. I was just so inspired by what you were doing, and it made me really want to do it myself.

Z: Yeah, and one of the things that I would say in general is that it’s not hard. I mean, in the sense that some of my comfort with this is having been a bartender. For me, through years of doing the job, I have a decent sense of what most of the ingredients in my home bar taste like. If you cook at home, there’s nothing wrong with strictly following recipes, but learning to improvise in the kitchen and behind the bar are useful skills. If you don’t learn how to go off the beaten path a little bit, then normally, you can’t create. You can replicate, which is super cool. Some dishes and cocktails have to be exactly right to taste good, as I said before. However, it comes back to this whole thing of being familiar or comfortable with the unfamiliar and willing to take those risks. Maybe it’s a dispositional thing, but I think it’s also a little bit of a learned practice thing. I encourage people, when they ask me about making cocktails at home, to start with the ingredient they like most. If it’s rye whiskey, reposado tequila, or gin, start with familiar things. All of those have their classic pairing partners, which are really straightforward. Then, if your rye whiskey really likes other bitter liqueurs, think about exploring a whole realm of them that go from the various amari to vermouth to the actual bitters, themselves. You should find yourself in this section of your home bar — if yours is as expansive as mine — or even if it’s a small home bar, you’re going to have few ingredients to play around with. The other thing to think about is it’s totally cool to steal from the bars around you. I mean, not literally steal things, but ideas. I always would ask people I worked with or knew who were more skilled than me, “What do you think would go with this?” I’m not saying walk into a busy cocktail bar on a Saturday night and try to pigeonhole the bartenders, but if you’re there on a Tuesday night and it’s slow, ask: “I really like reposado tequila but I don’t want a Margarita or a Paloma. I want something a little different.” Again, this comes back to this engaging, exploration, and discovery piece. Ask them to make you something, but also ask them to talk you through their logic because a good bartender should be able to give you some idea why they’re doing what they’re doing.

J: I think we both have, as you mentioned, this disposition to explore and try new things. I think there’s skepticism about the unknown, but there’s also an unwillingness to try things. When I think of people like my parents who order the same thing no matter where we are, or the conversation we had in a different episode about people going back to the bar and ordering a specialty cocktail versus ordering something that they already know. I think of my parents in those moments, too, where that’s not the case for them. It’s funny because I grew up trying everything. It was always with food, of course, very adventurous in trying whatever. It’s certainly translated to drinks for me. Yet, I think there is this unwillingness or just, you know what you like so why try something else?

Z: Yeah but that’s interesting to me because I think with food, that mindset makes sense because most of us are exposed to some diversity of foods as a child, whether it’s our parents making things, or in restaurants, or takeout. At some point in our lives, we’re probably having dinner at other people’s houses and we are probably trying some other new things. I’m sure there are people who go through their lives trying very few different foods until they are adults, but most of us have some exposure and increasingly more to a range of cuisines and ingredients. Yet, drinking is weird in this country, right? I don’t know if your parents introduced you to drinking. My parents did a little bit, but a lot of my exploration of drinking came after I was out on my own. At the time, my parents were predictable-ish drinkers. To some extent, they still are. My mother in particular, but also my dad in a lot of ways. For me, I’m fascinated by all these different things — food, drink, etc. — so it’s totally natural for me to want to explore. The things I liked at 23 are different from the things I like now, and that seems natural. At the same time, there’s no cultural pressure — or there’s some and it’s increasing — but there isn’t a longstanding cultural pressure to be a diverse, well-rounded drinker.

J: Yeah, I hadn’t really considered that. I think that’s a really good point. I was having this conversation with a few of our colleagues about this idea that if you ask winemakers what beer they like, they’re always going to say Miller High Life or some straightforward macro beer because it’s the most refreshing or it’s the least fussy. I think that’s really interesting thinking of winemakers having these exquisite palates, and then they just like this very standard beer. That’s really interesting because, as you said, there is probably no pressure to have an extensive drinks palate or range of drinks experience.

Z: This is something I talk about with my wife sometimes. Do you remember the first time you tried sushi?

J: Mm-hmm.

Z: When was that?

J: I was a very young person, and we got sushi from a local grocery store. I think I was 10 or so.

Z: I was definitely older since I had it in high school. Most people — especially a lot of the country — are encountering something like sushi relatively young. My son who is 3 has had sushi since he was one. Unfortunately for us, it’s his favorite food. I mean, we love it. It’s just not cheap to feed a 3-year-old endless amount of salmon sashimi that he seems to want. When my parents first tried sushi, I don’t think either of them really ate it. I mean, certainly not a lot of raw fish. My dad’s more adventurous than my mom, but whatever. That’s not really the point here. The point is I think you could go to a lot of people of our generation and get a rundown of people who tried classic cocktails. Who has tried the Sazerac? Who has tried Clover Club? Who’s tried Chenin Blanc? Pick your thing. Some people may have had all those things, and some people may have had none of those things, but I think we put a lot of cultural value these days — most of us — on being a well-rounded, adventurous eater who’s tried lots of different things. There are dishes and cuisines discussed without any explanation that leaves me confused. I don’t know that thing at all. I have to look it up, which is fine because that’s how one learns. With drinks, people feel totally comfortable being asked, what do you drink? They would say they just drink rosé, Aperol Spritzes, Martinis, or whatever the thing is. It comes back to this whole topic that I think we’ve been trying to define in our own minds: How do you become a more well-rounded drinker? And is that actually a thing worth doing?

J: Is there value in that?

Z: Certainly, a drinks podcast and publication would say “Yes, please read more of our content, listen to more of our podcasts about all these topics.” But it is also true that many people just find the thing they like and stick with it. Again, I think this explains a lot of why hard seltzer has been such a big hit. It’s a thing you can drink in almost any setting now.

J: To your point about food and how it seems like with every generation — your family, in particular — is better-rounded. Your son is eating sushi already. I wonder if the same thing will happen with drinks. Will younger generations have more exposure to and find more value in being well-rounded drinkers, or will it just be hard seltzer and other things like that?

Z: Yeah, that’s a fascinating question. I’m curious to know what our Gen Z listeners think. Again, I even think about my cohort because I am 37. I was out on the right edge of the bell curve for adventurousness with food among my friends. Obviously, I’m a professional, so my drinks experience is pretty broad compared to most people that I know who are outside of the industry. However, I do think we are seeing this value of a breadth of experience expand into the drinks world. If not expertise, then at least some familiarity with all these things. Of course, acquiring that kind of familiarity is complex and complicated. You have to know where to go or be raised in a family that values that thing. This is true with food in a lot of ways. We don’t have a lot of control over who our parents are and what they feed us when we’re young.

J: Access, too, right?

Z: Yeah, and that’s a huge piece of this, too. Drinking is not cheap for the most part. Certainly, the things we’re talking about definitely can be expensive or difficult to access, even if they’re not crazy expensive. When we did this episode, we started by talking about how there are these categories and talking about what we’ve been drinking lately that we haven’t dived that far into. I want to leave it here with this. In the interest of becoming even more well-rounded drinkers, what do you resolve to drink in the next week that we can talk about that’ll push you outside your comfort zone a little bit?

J: Oh, wow. I want to think about this.

Z: This is on the spot. We did not rehearse this.

J: Well, I want to try your riff on a Paper Plane, but I want to make a Daiquiri at home. I don’t think I’ve ever ordered one out at a bar and certainly have not made one at home. I will definitely do that next week. I don’t know if it’s as adventurous.

Z: You are at least expanding the experience.

J: Yeah, what about you?

Z: Well, I was thinking about this when you were talking about not caring much for IPAs. I also found some of the hazy IPAs to be a little more approachable. In Seattle, the West Coast IPA is really still a strong trend. I thought, I need to just go get a very classic, bitter without a lot of softening from additional hops, IPA. This is what I started out drinking a lot of when I was drinking beer, and then I really moved away from it. I need to come back and revisit because I’ve just avoided them because I don’t think I care much for them. Like everything, it’s good to revisit some things from time to time and touch in on our own sense of tastes and how they might have adjusted. Now that I’m a 37-year-old father of almost two, maybe I really do like classic West Coast IPA. I don’t know, but I will report back next week. Joanna, thank you. This was fun. This may be a little more of a subdued podcast without Adam. You all can let us know; [email protected] and share your thoughts on this topic and any other comments or suggestions you have for us. It was a little more chill. And I will talk to you and Adam next week.

J: Yes, sounds good.

Thanks so much for listening to the “VinePair Podcast.” If you love this show as much as we love making it, then please give us a rating or review on iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever it is you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show.

Now for the credits. VinePair is produced and recorded in New York City and in Seattle, Wash., by myself and Zach Geballe. He does all the editing and loves to get the credit. Also, I would love to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder, Josh Malin, for helping make all this possible and also to Keith Beavers, VinePair’s tastings director, who is additionally a producer on the show. I also want to, of course, thank every other member of the VinePair team who is instrumental in all of the ideas that go into making the show every week. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article VinePair Podcast: How We’re Getting Out of Our Drinks Comfort Zones appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/vinepair-podcast-comfort-zones/

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johnboothus · 3 years

Text

VinePair Podcast: How Were Getting Out of Our Drinks Comfort Zones

If you have any thoughts on drinks comfort zones, please send your ideas to [email protected].

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check out the Conversation Here

Joanna Sciarrino: From VinePair’s New York City headquarters, I’m Joanna Sciarrino.

Zach Geballe: In Seattle, Wash., I’m Zach Geballe, and this is the “VinePair Podcast.”

Z: Joanna, it’s just you and me running the show today.

J: Just us.

Z: Yes, large snifters are full by the fireplaces.

J: It looks so great so I did that and that was really great.

J: Honestly, wine.

Z: OK, fair.

J: Don’t judge me but that is one category where it seems completely endless.

Z: That is true.

J: Yeah, for sure. What about you, Zach? What have you been drinking?

Z: I have to tell a little bit of a story, I apologize. I really do feel like I’m turning into Adam in this episode, but it’s all right.

J: Someone has to take his place.

J: Do you have a specific meal for these dinners?

J: That sounds so nice.

Z: This is something I talk about with my wife sometimes. Do you remember the first time you tried sushi?

J: Mm-hmm.

Z: When was that?

J: I was a very young person, and we got sushi from a local grocery store. I think I was 10 or so.

J: Is there value in that?

J: Access, too, right?

J: Oh, wow. I want to think about this.

Z: This is on the spot. We did not rehearse this.

Z: You are at least expanding the experience.

J: Yeah, what about you?

J: Yes, sounds good.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article VinePair Podcast: How We’re Getting Out of Our Drinks Comfort Zones appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/vinepair-podcast-comfort-zones/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/vinepair-podcast-how-were-getting-out-of-our-drinks-comfort-zones

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type-a-nomad · 6 years

Text

First Blog Post: Cape Town Day 1

Sunday Feb 11 2018

Growing Pains

I landed in Cape Town at 7:30am local time (CTT= Cape Town Time/ CT= Cape Town). Because I slept from SFO to Heathrow, I got little to no sleep from Heathrow to Cape Town, resulting in my accidental all-nighter from 11:30pm CTT. Everything is sort of hazy and out of whack. It seems like everything that could have gone slightly wrong, has gone slightly wrong. Or, at least, very far from the expected result. The first of these instances was in the CT airport. There was a driver that was supposed to meet me at 8am CTT and by 8:20am I was starting to feel quite nervous, as it is easy to direct my unease about the general situation of moving continents towards a short-term, tangible problem like my transportation. By this time, I am sweating from nerves and general physical exhaustion from hauling my duffle bag around looking for the guy who is supposed to have a sign directing me to him. Finally, I call the emergency number of the program I’m going through and they tell me to go to the information desk and wait for him to meet me there. So I do. Another 20 minutes later, all is well and my driver, Kyle, is blasting Lil’ Jon while speeding down the highway past the poorest parts of CT. There are thousands of houses made out of scrap metal. I saw roofs held onto structures by the weight of fractured concrete, wooden planks and sheets of tin propped up against each other, some structures were even two stories high. Then we were zooming through Cape Town, the first thing I saw was the prison, which was almost as depressing as the slums. But once we cleared the poorer outskirts, the water was visible and it was stunning. It was like the surface was covered in gold glitter it was sparkling so much. We stopped in front of a house in a rundown neighborhood, directly facing a large, white, and mostly windowless primary school. Kyle grabs my duffle bag out of the car (bless him) and dispassionately drops me and it at the front door of a dusty, brick-red house. I ring the doorbell as Kyle drives off. Nobody answers. After a minute, I ring again. Still, nobody answers. I reach past the metal grate blocking the wooden door and knock. I am starting to panic (again) and am knocking and ringing, feeling stranded and mildly disgusted at the dead, partially-squished rat I had to walk over to get to the door. 10 minutes pass. I am still frantically knocking. Then, I hear something. A short girl answers the door. She’s maybe 24, with a sleeve of tattoos- one of which is a large elephant with a very South African looking tree next to it. I introduce myself and she says her name is Cassie and she essentially runs the hostel. She takes me upstairs and shows me my room with three bunkbeds lining the walls, and a file-cabinet-like dresser against the fourth. The floor is covered in clothes and there is a girl sleeping in her underwear surrounded by around 5 half-empty fanta bottles and two sticky glasses with flat soda in them. I say hello and she makes no noise, clearly a bit irritated her sleep has been interrupted. Cassie tells me to meet her downstairs in a few minutes when I settle in. I sit down on the bed and basically curl up in a ball of confusion, anxiety, and relief. When I have taken some deep breaths, reapply deodorant, and listed things I am grateful for and things I want to learn, I hop down the dirty stairs in the dim house and find Cassie. She gives me a brief tour of the house and shows me how I have to shower in a bucket and then dump the bucket in a larger bucket. Then, when you want to take a number 2 you have to walk to the big bucket, fill up a small bucket with water, then find a way to dump the water in the small bucket into the toilet tank so you can flush. This is way harder than it sounds and it an extremely awkward process that is almost as stressful as it is embarrassing for me because if you grab the bucket everyone knows you aren't just going number 1. Most of my stress here hinges on the idea of making myself more embarrassed than I already am by fûcking up this process in one way (technically this whole extravaganza is called a grey-water system). After the somewhat unnerving house tour, I am starting to realize how incredibly foreign all of this is. Moving to and living in Florence was traveling to another country, Cape Town is another planet. Everything feels slightly uneasy when you walk down the streets. I felt very watched and distrustful of anyone around me because I had been warned so thoroughly about the impressive theft that was pulled off, even in broad daylight. Then, the first genuinely positive interaction of my day happens. Three girls, Jonna (Sweden), Ella (Sweden), and Natália (Brazil) say that they're gong to the beach and if I don’t have any plans I should come with them to get lunch and then go to the beach. The tight little ball in my chest loosens. We all go to the grocery store and upon our return, Cassie comes up to me and tells me that tomorrow I am moving to a HomeStay. My reaction is: “WHAAAT??!?!?!?!??!?!????”. I was NOT supposed to be at a Home-Stay and was clearly told by the volunteer service that I would be based at the volunteer hostel. I was completely caught off-guard and this was the LAST mix-up I would expect to happen. I make her double-check that it’s the right person she’s talking about and she confirms that yes, in fact my program is in an area much closer to the poorer neighborhoods, because those are the kids we are serving. Thus, I need to live close to them and that means living with a family. WHAT THE FÜCK? I regain my zen and try to just be a “go with the flow” kind of person, but I feel like a rock being unwillingly dragged down a river by the force of the water. After many minutes of mindful breathing and sunscreen application, we are in the uber to the beach. The beach is gorgeous. The South African Sun was incredibly intense. Even when applying several layers of thick sunscreen and sitting entirely in the shade, my skin was very offended I had decided to move to this continent. That being said, there were white fluffy sand, colored umbrellas, beautiful and tan, beachy South Africans everywhere, so I told my skin to shut up. My particular favorite of all my people-watching specimen was a 50-something woman in a hot pink bikini who was so freckled she passed it off as a deep tan. She had a lower back tattoo that said “Brooklyn Forever” in swirly writing, some Chinese characters on her back, a ring of thorns around her bicep, and a kiss mark on her lower right hip. Her small white lap dog came over and chilled on my towel while she drank some alcoholic beverage and told her four-year-old daughter to move out of her tanning chair because “I’m an ádult” (only self-important people say adult as aaaaadult). She also told her friend to “stay on the hunt”, when a 20 year old lifeguard passed and they both obviously checked him out, even though they were both wearing wedding rings and surrounded by their own children. From eavesdropping on their conversations I learned her name was Lisa, which fits all too well. I hang out with my new friends and learn lots of cool information. For example, Natalia has breast implants her boyfriend paid for as a present to her 5 months ago and is very happy to talk about them as a point of braggadocio (as it turns out, two americans in this volunteer hostel also have breast implants”. Ella has four tattoos, one of which is very large on her forearm that says “There is no progress without struggle”. She says she almost ran to the tattoo parlor on her 18th birthday to get it— but now she thinks it’s cliche. Jonna is amazed at my ability to recite facts I learned from various podcasts I listened during my unintentional all-nighter to Cape Town. For example, your likelihood of getting cancer increases by 40% if you average less than 7 hours of sleep per night over your lifetime. Cassie and her sister Ashley end up joining us. By that time I was entirely exhausted. My face was telling me it was time to get out of the sun even though I was in the shade, with a hat and sunscreen on. And, again, I was entirely exhausted so interaction with new people was a strain I was really not feeling. Finally, we call and uber and go back to the hostel. I cannot get the idea of the host family off of my mind as I am moving there tomorrow and have exactly no information on who they are, where they live, what the conditions will be, how many people live there, etc.. I decide the best way to ease my anxiety is to get something done. So, I go to the drug store down the street, Click-It. I buy around 10 items and when I’m checking out, the cashier does something very odd. He looks at me, smiles, and says “when you leave the alarm by the door might go off, just keep walking”. I kind of smile and then process what he’s really said, then process the fact that him and his female co-worker at the other register just smiled at each other clearly in regards to what he has just said. “Why” I ask. “Because I am not going to scan all the items they want me to scan. Don’t worry about it. Just keep walking”. At this point I’m like WHAT THE FÜCK IS GOING ON PART 2. Is he saying he is giving me some of my items for free? What on earth is happening. Well, then I go to pay with my Charles Schwab card that is supposed to be perfect and seamless to use and it’s DECLINED. So I pay with Wells Fargo and the world starts turning again. Right after I pick up my bag he reminds me “dont forget: DO NOT stop walking”. And Im like “Dude I just wanted my leave-in conditioner, I don’t need Mission-Impossible” But, whatever, I’m only 95% sure I can understand the gist of what he is saying because I am still having trouble understanding South African English accents. I scurry home, through the accusatorially beeping metal detector with my newly aquired, and possibly partially stolen goods and take my brief, bucket shower. Now, I am hiding in my top bunk, trying to collect myself and hide from human interaction because honestly, I’m getting close to being at wits-end. I am too overwhelmed to edit this so #nofilter yay I completed my first blog post. Happy First Day In South Africa, Bitches.

xoxo Q

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