TANQUERAY RANGPUR GIN—My dad goes on a rampage!

My dad, who is not allowed to buy things any more, bought three things today:


Starfrit Hamburger Stacker

Starfrit hamburger maker

“I have never experienced a desire for such a thing,” said my mother, who apparently hand-fondles all the patties at LBHQ into perfect circles without assistance.

I concurred, albeit for other reasons. The price, for instance: $7. We could have had a really bad-ass night with some super-crappy wine for the price of the Starfrit Hamburger Stacker.

“What are hamburgers made of anyway?” I asked nervously.

“Oh, all kinds of things,” said my parents. “You name it.”


Hands-Free Magic Mesh Screen Door Cover

Hands-free Magic Mesh Screen Door Cover

Well, what was my mother supposed to say to this one? “But I LIKE bugs in the house”?

This contraption will be a quick fix to the problem of bugs being inexplicably lured toward the smell of the burgers my mother will squish in the Starfrit thingie.

What do I think? Well, naturally no one asked. Being less…organic than the other LBHQ inhabitants, I don’t attract too much insect attention. Price: $20. What could we have bought at our nearby booze shop for $20? Well, OMG, read my blog, people.




Ahhhh! My dad is awesome. Despite my allegiance to Julia Gale and her brand, BROKER’S, I’ve been dying to try this new Tanqueray offering. You see, Tanq is my second favorite, and I trust Tanqueray not to do crazy things with gin. They will not come out with, say, a marshmallow-flavored gin anytime soon. And even though I would pester my parents to buy marshmallow gin, I’m…glad that Tanq has the taste not to distill it.

So, OMG, my fellow inebriates, what the hell does “Rangpur” mean? It turns out the Ranpur is kind of like a lime. It’s a mutant lime—a lime that isn’t a lime but rather a lemon-mandarin hybrid that, weirdly enough, smells like lime! It’s amazing that such a thing could exist. But I figure if the Ogopogo exists, then why not a Rangpur?


Okay, so when I realized my dad had gone off-leash and bought things—including TANQUERAY RANGPUR GIN—I became rabid for a taste. Even a sniff. So, when 5:00 pm descended upon us, they cracked the bottle and gave me just that—a sniff, followed by a minuscule sip. I mean, by the time I actually tasted it, it had evaporated—that’s how small this sip was.

How was it?

OMG, people, it was delectable. Whatever these Rangpur things are, they belong in gin. Unlike cucumber, citrus fruit has definite business with gin, and with Tanqueray, it works. But sadly I’ve had too small a taste to work with. It’s just not enough for a fair review. Perhaps another Gin Shoot-Out is in order.

To be continued…


My Fellow Inebriates,

My mum told me she dreamt last night that I was doing my own typing. With my paws, no less.

It's okay to serve pancakes.

This dream sounded ominous to me and possibly related to yesterday’s suggestion of a breakfast brainstorming session with the gents from BROKER’S GIN with my mum slinging pancakes on the sidelines.

Her dream did seem tinged with threat. I said, “Don’t worry, proper gin enthusiasts skip breakfast; they just mix their gin with juice in the morning.”


“So you could just squeeze us some OJ or something.”

I had a split second to ponder the angst my mother’s humorlessness and now undeniable middle age must cause her before she chucked me in the toybox.

Also by Dan Lacey

Thankfully the box got cleaned with Windex yesterday. I could even taste the residue on the plastic. So at least it wasn’t full of weird detritus and petrified mysteries. So I had time to think about all kinds of miscellany: When will my Obama & Penelope the Unicorn print arrive? What kinds of juice go nicely with Cachaca? Is Dolly somewhere in the box? Is it true about the carbon dating on the Shroud of Turin? Why hasn’t Hanukkah Harry visited yet (or has he started consolidating eight visits into one to be more environmentally friendly)?

But mostly I was thinking about a nice gin & tonic. I’ve been so fixated on BROKER’S GIN lately that I haven’t given much attention to its competitors. Let’s talk TANQUERAY.

Even older than the venerable BEEFEATER, TANQUERAY SPECIAL DRY GIN dates back to 1830 when son-of-a-clergyman Charles Tanqueray first “traded in the church for the still.” Quadruple-distilled, TANQUERAY boasts a slightly smaller botanical array than many of its competitors: juniper, coriander, angelica and licorice. The result is a snappy, focused gin that makes a distinctive martini while being powerful enough to punch through the tonic in a G&T.

I had no idea (thank you, Internet) that TANQUERAY had merged with GORDON’S in 1898. This upset me a little because GORDON’S really has nothing on TANQUERAY, making the merger a typically cynical bid to cover all bases in a market with variable purchasing power. Don’t get me wrong; I would drink GORDON’S, but not if I could have TANQUERAY, which admittedly I would drink even if you wrung it out of dirty underwear into my mouth.

Which is to say TANQUERAY really is all that. Straight up it conveys pine to the nose, and then delicate juniper and citrus undertones. The distinctiveness of these flavors is the reason TANQUERAY makes such a rad martini, although purity aficionados (and habitual vodka drinkers) would no doubt prefer its cleaner-tasting super-premium sibling TANQUERAY 10. I’d honestly rather have the dirty little original at two-thirds the price—it has more character, and if you truly appreciate gin, character is what it’s all about.

Finally my mum retrieved me from the toybox. She said it was hard to channel my thoughts when I was so unhappy, but that if I ever expressed any further notions about her stringing on an apron to serve my Old Boys dick-stroking gin-drinking club she would %&*#!/$* bury me. OMG!



My Fellow Inebriates,

I need to score some BROKER’S GIN. I just realized my local liquor store no longer carries it—OMG!! I took it for granted; I thought it would always be there. Even when I wasn’t thinking about it, somewhere inside I had the comforting notion that it would be there when I decided it was gin-and-tonic time.

Yes, I did rhapsodize the other day about BEEFEATER, an awesome gin and the definitive choice for juniper fans. I love BEEFEATER, my peeps, but there’s a time and a place for it. BEEFEATER is for lurching around with older relatives at weddings and wakes. It’s great for sipping in a martini while you listen to loud, loud music. It’s fantastic at an airport when it could be 7:00 a.m. or 2:00 p.m. for all you know because you lost your watch in the toilet. I totally love the stuff.

But I have to tell you about BROKER’S. Compared to BEEFEATER, it is a cheeky upstart—but an upstart with a mission to create an unapologetically old-fashioned gin bespeaking London and its heritage. Using quadruple distillation, the fourth pass going through a copper pot still, brothers Andy and Martin Dawson combined their solid business acumen, their creativity, and some funny hats in 1998, to create a memorably dry, full-bodied gin.

SO WHY THE HELL CAN’T I FIND IT IN MY LIQUOR STORE ANY MORE? Seriously, I want to ask Andy and Martin what’s going on…why BROKER’S was in my liquor store and isn’t any more. Are they okay? OMG, is BROKER’S okay? Are they still making it? Are they doing great but have cut Canada off? Do they think Canadians are hooligans? OMG!

BROKER’S has captured dozens of international awards for its fresh, dry and slightly floral gin. I know we swill a lot of Molson Canadian here in the Great White North, but there must be animals and humans besides yours truly with a bad-ass jones for this crystal-clear elixir.

Did I mention it was cheap compared to other premium gins? Given the labor-intensive production methods the brothers use to make the stuff, this didn’t even compute when I first bought it, but it didn’t matter, because I had my heavenly gin. Where, oh where, can I get a bottle of BROKER’S? Dear followers, please help me.