WARSTEINER DUNKEL—Not destined for the toilet, even on World Toilet Day

My Fellow Inebriates,

Today is World Toilet Day. Before you assume I’m being facetious (which you might from a cursory glance at the World Toilet Day website), check this out.

Click to sign

Scant generations ago, in what we now term the developed world, people used outdoor sheds to empty their bowels. In these outdoor privies you’d typically find an earthen hole, sometimes with a makeshift lid, ash or other substances to cover offensive deposits and mask the smell, and a stick—one end of which you’d use to wipe, the other of which you’d use to wash your hands, giving rise to the expression “the shit end of the stick.” In winter your ass would freeze to the seat (if there was one). In summer the whole affair would reek to high heaven.

Today’s convenient plumbing and sanitation put us at something of a remove from shit and where it eventuates. Modern washrooms brought not only cleanliness but also discretion, introducing the formerly unknown notion of privacy to bodily functions involving waste. And with privacy came secrecy. With secrecy came repression and outright denial of shit, the fact that shit comes out of us, and the fact that it goes somewhere upon exit. Consider the panic of being at a dinner party where, on a brief visit to your hosts’ swankily appointed facilities, you release a log too large for the porcelain appliance to accommodate, then feel your blood turn cold as your dark progeny hesitates upon flushing, then bounces to the surface, only now surrounded by soupy chunder—how mortifying, right? Frantically you look for a plunger, only to realize your hosts are far too suave to leave such a foul thing visible or even accessible to guests. OMG!

Over a billion people in the world defecate openly. Get involved so we can change this.

No doubt we’ve all been in this desperate situation, although my friend Scarybear insists he has not. He claims he poos outside as a rule, although I’ve never seen him move from the couch. To be honest, until I learned it was World Toilet Day, I didn’t give a moment’s thought to where my own (surely liquid) waste goes. I unconsciously assumed two things:

  • It happens after I’ve passed out.
  • Since I am, pejoratively speaking, a “stuffie,” what comes out is inoffensive and blends into the carpet and/or the dust bunnies under our furniture.

I’m not here today to solve this mystery, though. I’m mainly here to plug World Toilet Day, a cause you can support by signing the petition, updating your FB status with a sanitation-related message, tweeting about the event, and promoting awareness of the world’s gaps in sanitation— and then I’ll segue crassly from that subject to beers you might pour down the toilet.

As far as I’m concerned, there are none. But my mum threatened to pour out her half-glass of WARSTEINER DUNKEL last night. Not that she actually did it; she is far too frugal. She just drank it and complained about it. My dad liked it better, and I hung around to mop up whatever they didn’t finish (talk about the shit end…).

How did we acquire this dunkel?

My dad’s beer choices are branching out. In fact, my dad has started using this blog as a justification to buy beer. When he gets fed up yakking on the phone with technicians who later pretend not to be there when he calls back, he gets a notion to cruise the liquor store and find us something new. This is exactly why I started the blog.

WARSTEINER DUNKEL pours a solid almost cola brown with a reddish tinge and an off-white head. First aromas include chocolate, coffee, and an off-putting metallic note reminiscent of a Canadian hockey beer—very incongruous wafting from this dark brew. The base is yeasty and pilsnerish and a lightweight 4.9% alcohol—too light to carry deep and boomy flavors such as cocoa espresso, so the impression is of a macro beer that had some coffee beans floating in it overnight—or a chicken-legged dude being bullied into doing front squats at the gym, take your pick.

But the overwhelming top note is metal. Not the good kind that makes you remember all the hair you used to have but rather the kind that makes you wonder what you’re ingesting and whether a general metallic overload is responsible for those memory dropouts.

WARSTEINER DUNKEL is, ultimately, drinkable. Just not highly enjoyable. But not something you’d throw down the toilet. Well…maybe after ten of them, reverse-peristaltically. Aren’t you grateful you have a toilet?

World Toilet Day FACTS

  • Sanitation is a human right, yet 2.5 billion people do not have a clean toilet.
  • Around the world, 1.1 billion people have no other option than open defecation.
  • Safe toilet facilities keep girls in school. Dignity and hygiene matter, particularly at the onset of puberty. Taboos surrounding menstrual hygiene preclude discussion of girls’ needs in many countries, leading to high numbers of school dropouts. Particularly in repressive regimes, the silence around feminine hygiene perpetuates the already dominant notion that women are not welcome in public.
  • Sanitation is a good economic investment. In fact, sanitation returns $5 for every dollar spent. Health and productivity increase; tourism benefits; production of sanitation equipment produces jobs; education rates improve—along with dignity and safety for everyone.

Get involved

Click, my fellow inebriates, click!

Our own Irish (well, actually Canadian) Cream—at one-third the price of store-bought! (And YOU can do it too!)

Check it out, my fellow inebriates. With roughly $33 worth of simple ingredients, we’re going to make almost 3 litres of dreamy Irish Canadian cream liqueur. Yes!

Okay, so typically we wouldn’t get all the ingredients ready like this. My mum would be more likely to begin a recipe, then run around the kitchen looking for ingredients she didn’t bother reading about, all the while cursing whatever’s burning, only to realize we’re out of whatever she needs. But today we got organized. After all, this is a documentary of sorts.

The Recipe

  • 8.75 oz milk chocolate chips (call it a rounded cup)
  • 1 shot espresso
  • 750 mL whisky (that’s 3 cups to you imperialists)
  • 2 cans condensed milk
  • 2 cans evaporated milk
  • 2.5 cups whipping cream

Can you believe it? That’s it! In fact, the only complicated part of this whole deal is getting the chocolate chips to melt nicely. If you don’t have a double boiler (and who does?), just put a smaller saucepan inside a larger one partly filled with water. Get the water gently boiling, then simmer it, making sure the water won’t go apeshit-splashy into the small saucepan. Put the chocolate chips and the espresso shot inside the little saucepan and stir as they melt. Mmmmm!

Meanwhile, get a bowl like our big pink one and pour the whisky into it. (Usually we make cookies and cakes in the big pink bowl, which makes the kids come running, and today was no exception. They loved making Canadian cream liqueur.)

Once the chocolate is melted and well stirred (no lumps), pour it into the whisky, whisking it up immediately so it doesn’t get a chance to harden. You’ll probably get a few little chips at the bottom, but most of the chocolate should become happily suspended in the whisky. It will look like the Exxon Valdez spill at first, then like diarrhea. Don’t worry, you’re doing it right.

Empty all four cans into the bowl and whisk everything up. The mixture will lighten pleasantly.

Pour the whipping cream in. This is the AHA! moment when you realize it looks just like the store-bought stuff. Just like it, people!

Whisk the mixture to ensure the color is uniform. Then…do you have a container ready?

Our branding/packaging is still incomplete, so we’re using this 4 L milk jug for the next two weeks while our Canadian Cream mellows. We’ll give it a shake every day, look longingly at it, sniff it…and after two weeks have passed torturously by, we’re going to pound it. Ahhh!

Almost forgot: store-bought Irish cream goes for $55 per 1.75 L. Our yield is 2.85 L for $33! OMG, making your own is one-third the cost of buying it!

Review in T minus two weeks, so save the date, MFI 😉

Canadian Cream—DENIED

 

Front label…check.

Back label…check.

Product…FAIL.

My mum picked up some mysterious stomach bug at the ladies’ church group she accidentally infiltrated. Celestial payback? Maybe so, but what did I do to deserve this, my fellow inebriates?

Barfing and sleeping, she basically ignored anything a bear could say. “We’ve got to start the cook!” “The cream is fresh now!” “Wake up, we have to cook!” “Is it OK if I operate the stove by myself?”

Ah, but you know I am totally chickenshit about the stove. So…we wait.