Sweet burning water…

It was on an oppressive summer night at Rio’s “Cachaça Academy” (Academia de Cachaça) that I first experienced the refreshing wonder of ice cold cachaça (Brazil’s national spirit) mixed with honey. A large group of us sat outside this fine establishment blocks from the beach surrounded by merciless high rises denying us the paltry breeze that  night’s skies could muster. As we sat looking around the table at each others’ sweat-drenched faces and matted hair, the waiter appeared with several doses of this heavenly nectar arranged geometrically on a tray. As we raised the frosty vessels to our mouths, we knew instantly that he had blessed us with an arctic blast in a shot glass that went down as smooth as silk and lowered our body temperatures 10 degrees (Celsius -- we were in Brazil, remember?) and our IQs by roughly 10 points. We stumbled toward home from that table at 4 in the morning, dangerously hypothermic and with the frontal brain function of lobotomized hamsters.

Fast forward to last Saturday when I unleashed this “velvet sledge hammer” on an unsuspecting group of partygoers at Andrea’s and Thomas’s (not Völkering’s) house. It all started so innocently, with mild enthusiasm and pleasant surprise at how the harsh cachaça (called burning water {aguardente} in Brazil) was tamed by the tender sweetness of the natural honey. Even Thomas’s mom did a shot! By midnight or so, I’m told those of us that had been partaking all night were having a great time. I’m told Andrea’s brother was the first to bite the dust. The poor guy is obviously way too young (and light) to keep up with the hard core rotgut swillers assembled there. An hour later, the cachaça had run out and I vaguely remember our drinking straight out of a gas can someone had found in the garage and blabbering like 4 year olds (judging by my surprisingly light hangover, I think our host spoiled us with super-unleaded). Just in case you’re wondering (and those that know me are), I’m kidding about the gas.

Anyway, on the off chance that you invite me to your home for a party and I show up with a bottle of cachaça and honey, do us both a favor and slam the door in my face. My liver thanks you in advance.