Rhubarb Liqueur

Now it's time for an older, pinker, more elegant booze. It's lighter and less floral than I expected and not too sweet. It's also really easy to make. It's rhubarb Liqueur. Brandon found the basic recipe in a local paper but we fucked with it to use less sugar. The hands on time is maybe around thirty minutes total but the total time is 8 weeks.


One 5th of everclear
4 or 5 rhubarb stems or branches or whatever you call them
9 cups of water
3 cups of sugar

Chop the fuck out of your rhubarb.
Dump those splinters into a huge mason jar.
Pour the everclear over the rhubarb. 
Close the jar.
It should look like a pickled abortion. 
Let it sit there for four weeks.
Strain the rhubarb, squeezing as much booze out of the flesh as humanly possible. 
The rhubarb should end up looking like a giant meat ball. 
Compost that bastard.
combine 9 cups of water with 3 cups of sugar in a large pot over medium heat.
Once the sugar is dissolved, you will have simple syrup. 
Remove from the heat, letting the simple syrup cool.
While the syrup cools, filter your booze a couple times through cheesecloth or a coffee filter.
Once the syrup is cool, pour the moonshine in.
Stir those molecules around.
Bottle it up.
It should yield 5 bottles.
Let it sit there for another 4 weeks.
DRANK IT DOWN, MUTHER FUCKER.

Bar Reference: chronicles de la drunkles.

Is it sad or ironic that I'm writing this post while hungover? A hangover that was curated on a Tuesday night at home where nothing was being celebrated? Last night Brandon and I had plans to go normalling at the grocery store but instead I decided we should eat a small amount of leftover Ajiaco chased by 5 cocktails. Totes puked.

PS. I'm not always such a drunken whore. Don't judge. You don't know me.

Here's our dangerous cocktail recipe: I call it "The February Fakeout"

In a lowball glass add:
1once of Monopolowa
1/2 once of Brandon's homemade llimoncello
1 giant icecube
4 oz of sodawater
splash of orange bitters
stir
drink
repeat


Anyway this post is supposed to be aesthetic reference for the bar at our house, not  chronicles de la drunkles.
 Soooo.......
We have a weird french door closet in the main room of our house. Instead of using that space for storage or putting a miniature office in there or whatever it is that other people might be drawn to we have decided to build out a bar.

First things first would be a coat of black paint on the interior so that the closet recedes. Secondly the fugged curtains fashioned out of a sheet will be removed.

Then we need to shop for shit:

Some classy old table type thinger
 One of those airstream soda water mahcines
Esque studio and No. 1 Son (Bar)barian stuff
A fruit bowl for limes
an ice bucket
Some horn tumblers.

There are a lot of choices so I made another ghetto moodboard:

GLOBAL GOTH: An Argument for fur pelts and wooden masks

MOVING DAZE/Regretsies.

Last time we moved I made a promise to myself that I would hire people to do it for us next time. That way, instead of sweating or unleashing my cunty attitude at whoever is around (I'm sorry honeybooze), I could just stand around pointing, criticizing and sipping champers.... But I broke that promise. Instead we had a few friends help. I got sweaty and was a cunt for most of the day. 

Later that night I cried about the kitchen and decided to take pictures of everything I hate in our new apartment. I'm going to post those later, room by tragic room.

I should also mention that our dog, Business, hates the apartment too. He is deathly afraid of the staircase to our "bedroom". Since moving in, he spends most of his time wandering around looking nervous or staring at the front door as if to say "Take me home, bitches! This place is the worst!" I concur, Bizzles. I concur. 

Side note: While we were cleaning the old place I found a dime in the pile of dust and dog hair that I was sweeping. Before I knew what was happening I stuck that dime in my mouth. What the what?