I used drink a lot of gin in college. When you’re young and you don’t know enough to drink your liquor straight – that the sugars in what you add to it are seventy percent of the hangover – you drink it loaded with mixers. And everything tastes great soaked in tonic.

Then, of course, there was this unfortunate incident I wrote about earlier, with overtones of “kidnapping,” “assault” and “terroristic threats”… inspired by Tanqueray. That got me rethinking gin. Not in any sense of concern, or quitting it. More with an eye toward change – to the easier, smoother white liquor (one that might not have me aiming weapons so quickly).

I shifted to vodka as my default clear liquor and a long time love affair ensued. It really is the cleanest of buzzes, and with some Eastern European blood in my veins, it goes down like mother’s milk. And so I forgot about the charms of gin. I stuck with the bourbon for friends, the vodka for anesthetizing myself at business-related gatherings and the scotch for, well… Good scotch was a special event thing, for raping a friend’s expense account. (There’s lovely ring to the words “Johnny Walker Blue” followed with, “Yeah, we’ll call this a ‘business dinner.’ You’re a client!”)

“Of course I am. Now let’s get down to brass tacks on this Penske file. You’ve got one of those Dartmouth kids fucking the whole thing up.”

“Is there a good hand job joint nearby?”

“Which would you prefer on the charge receipt? ‘A-1 Briefcase Repair’ or ‘House of Crepes, LLC’?”

I’m going to miss the boom years. I didn’t get rich myself, but there was always that sense of excess – that the money would never stop. You didn’t have to work on Wall Street. You only had to be in its shadow. Family, friends, neighbors, half of everyone you met… The world was drunk on its gains. Even the fucking lawyers were enjoying high class scraps. An actual trickle-down revolution, from ’96 straight through to ’07. And now it’s over – popped finally, For Real. And here we are confused, trying to grapple with a semblance of what it was like in the days before the cleaning lady was worth six figures in Cisco stock and the high school guidance counselor down the street was flipping vacation homes in Naples with financing from Bloated and Overlevered Bank, Inc.

People old enough to remember that decade say today’s like the ’70s. I wouldn’t know. All I remember of those days was riding in the back of my old man’s red coupe, hearing that sax line from “Baker Street” and all those awful Eagles tunes. To me it feels like the early ’90s, the fading but nasty edges of the Bush I Recession. And perhaps that’s why I recently rediscovered gin. A sense of déjà vu, of a feeling I had back then that all wasn’t going so well. That vodka wouldn’t dull things enough, and bourbon would clarify too much. Gin’s a nice middle ground – a sneaky, quirky buzz. Stronger than vodka or scotch, and smooth where bourbon enflames.

But who knows why, really? Might have just been laziness – finding a bottle of Tanqueray in a pile of holiday gifts, reacquainting myself with the taste and thinking, Damnit. Where have you been the last sixteen years?

I’m the kind who meets a problem head on, and the lack of gin in my recent history is a deeply disturbing shortcoming. In the spirit of making up for lost time, I’ve been soaking it up like a bar towel for the past several months. And I feel a need to share my experiences, in the hope nobody will forget about gin as I did, and look back with all that regret.

I’m nothing if not a giver, so here we go – my top five:

5. Tanqueray

The old standby – as good as in a martini as it is in a tumbler of fruit juice. They call it a dry gin, but it’s actually packed with flavor, and near sugary in its finish. A perfect drink for company get-togethers as few know the stuff packs a 9o plus proof wallop. Order it liberally, with minimal tonic. Throw a lime on top, to show you’re the kind of person who needs one. The average upper middle management sorts will appreciate that. Nobody wants a 28 year old gin martini drinker on his payroll. It’s a bit much on the pretentious scale for some, a little too much on the libertine scale for others.

4. Tanqueray Rangpur

I bought this hesitantly, thinking at 83 proof it’d be the gin equivalent of one of those weak fruit-flavored vodkas, infused with obvious artificial sweeteners. I was wrong. The stuff’s flat out delicious, and what it lacks in punch is more than compensated for by the fact that a glass of it with a bit of tonic might as well be soda.* The best damned soda you’ve ever had. The lime’s a bit overpowering for a purist, but on a humid, ninety degree Saturday afternoon, you understand why the British colonists allegedly drank a variant of this liquor in the heat of summer in India.

3. Bombay Sapphire

I almost hate to rate this number three, as it really ought to share the number two slot. But I don’t like splitting ranks, and this is a zero sum game. It must, however, be noted – this gin is barely a shade below the number two brand, which is a tremendous compliment to that gin, as Sapphire is flat out spectacular. And lethal. The flavors in Sapphire are subtle, the closest of those here to the rubbing alcohol character of classic neutral, dry gin. But if you drink this stuff on the rocks, which you can easily do and should, as mixing it almost seems wrong, you catch a wide range of citrusy tastes mixed up with the traditional juniper. And a bonus with Sapphire is how smoothly it goes down – how passive aggressive, yet paralyzing, its buzz can be. You can easily rip through a half a bottle of it and suddenly, surely, at 94 proof, it’ll hit you at once like a train. I wouldn’t swill this one in business company or even among none-too-close friends. This is one to enjoy in martini form, and keep in your own special corner of the liquor cabinet. The bottle you want to open after that truly miserable day at work, when you need a drink that’s flavor is only eclipsed by its surgical grade anesthetic effect.

2. Bluecoat

As I’ve noted here for years, there’s nothing much good about Philadelphia. Bluecoat Gin’s one of the few remaining exceptions. Yes, they make it in North Philly, and no, I’m not kidding. This isn’t just one of the finest gins I’ve ever had, it’s one of the finest liquors I’ve ever had. Bluecoat’s not for the timid drinker. It’s a ballsy, strong gin, loaded with citrus (so much so that adding a lime to a G&T with the stuff seems overkill). It doesn’t go down like Sapphire, and where the citrus hints in Rangpur cut the edge of the alcohol, the citrus in Bluecoat adds to the liquor’s bite. But at five times distilled, it’s as clean and sharp as the finest ultra-premium vodkas, and each of its flavors is distinct, like they’re supposed to be there, exactly the way you’re experiencing them. Of the bunch, this is the best gin and tonic gin. It never gets lost in the mix.

1. Hendrick’s

It smells like poupourri, has a sugary finish and where most have the usual juniper, Hendrick’s has hints of cucumber. And yet, despite all these seemingly strong reasons to dislike it, to not even consider it the type of liquor it claims to be, Hendrick’s is the best gin I’ve ever had. By a good distance, too. Where the rest of the gins on this list are close to one another in flavor, Hendrick’s is a total break. It’s as easy as Sapphire to drink, as flavorful as Bluecoat, but where both of those stick within the parameters of traditional gin, Hendrick’s lets in a whole layer of flavor none of the others even comes close to achieving. But I offer this praise with a caution. As the label of the bottle cautions, Hendrick’s is not for everyone. If the scent of roses in your drink creeps you out, you probably won’t like this stuff. And if you’re married to the use of lime in your gin and tonic, the mash-up of competing flavors on your palate probably won’t be pleasing. But if you’re willing to try a truly unique gin, more wet than dry, more sweet than neutral, but at the same time every bit as defined in its meticulously crafted infusions as the best of the traditional premium brands, Hendrick’s will not let you down. The only thing bad I can say about this gin is you’ll want to keep tasting it, because it’s nothing like anything you’ve had, in any type of liquor. And that leads to a rough next day.

Enjoy irresponsibly. It’s not like you have any serious work to do tomorrow. Or this afternoon. Or any other day or evening for the rest of our Glorious Recession.
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* I say “bit of tonic” because I mean “bit of tonic.” A respectable G&T should have no more than a finger of tonic for every four fingers of ice and gin. And that finger should be a pinky.

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