So I whipped up some stir fry vegetables and ginger-teriyaki-lemon chicken for the Corrupted Family (all 8 of us) last night somewhere in between doing an analysis of Milton’s “Paradise Lost” (which makes me want to stab something) and an essay on an allegedly “gay” caveman for anthropology class.
I was munching on the chicken and while tender, juicy and flavorful, was gross. I didn’t like the nibbling on my tongue and in the back of my throat of the ginger. I don’t like ginger and haven’t since 2008. Why not?
Once upon a time, when I still drank, and was out with a good ol’ drinking buddy out on the islands, we happened upon this bottle as a promo at our favorite watering hole. We proceeded to drink the bottle and experimented with different ways to drink VSOP cognac that is infused with ginger. I remember it being delicious. Different liquors and cordials, different mixers, chilled, straight up, shot glasses and snifters. Oh baby, that stuff went down smooth.
Drunk, we went home.
I proceeded to throw up half a
fifth handle however much half of 750 is of milliliters of VSOP cognac that reeked of ginger. I wanted to die.
So to this day, I don’t like ginger. I can tolerate it provided my chicken dishes don’t get doused in Chambord, sour mix and a splash of sprite along with the ginger, but I don’t like it one bit.