By S🅱️eve
I have quite a few people to thank for the birth of this article. That means that you have quite a few people to blame for it.
It all started with our dear friend, Daddy Halfway. On a fairly nice afternoon in early November back in the good ol’ days of 2021. It was then that he made his biggest mistake yet: introducing me to disgusting cocktails. I still remember the first one he gave me, like Anton Ego remembers his ratatouille. But something was missing: he refused to tell me the recipe for his famous abortion until I came up with something worse. That’s where our story begins.
At first, I was trying to make something bad immediately. Dumb, young me. It didn’t work, but I did manage to ruin Raf’s night (sorry about that). After struggling with getting him home (which was achieved by Emma and Patrik), I knew I needed to change something. I was missing the most important part of a cocktail: knowledge. So I set out to try everything that could be used to mix at the Koornbeurs.
In the beginning, the task seemed sisyphean: how the hell would I try the 41 shots available before they were replaced by something new? The answer will most definitely not surprise you: through many nights spent bent over the toilet. In my most successful one I tried 10 different drinks in a single night (that was also the night that Aad introduced me to the wonders of drinking a shit ton of water). I decided to record my findings in a Google doc, partly because I couldn’t remember what the hell I have and what I haven’t tried. You can find a short Hungarian description about everything at https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r3GcK3USbeBJFfadnVDp5aCiWQ2qW5ZKI8Zq-L_2ZVM/edit?usp=sharing.
After months of covid lockdowns and suffering, I had completed the list. It was time to take revenge, which came in the form of something I thought to be unbeatable: the kickass (named by Halfway). It consisted of Fireman, Sambuca and Fristi. Blehhh. But he enjoyed it. All my work was for nothing. My life’s meaning was lost. I was devastated. And I didn’t even need the recipe, I figured it out with my newfound knowledge. It was a dark, dark day. But then, my savior came riding the train from the Hague: Yank, Yik-yak, or however you want to call them.
But enough about the storytime, it’s time to finally suffer! If you don’t wish to ruin your life, please don’t read past this point.
Who am I kidding, it’s the Koornbeurs. Everyone either already has their life ruined or are well on their way to do it (luv y’all)
Also, Tapki please don’t murder me 👉👈, I may have accidentally used the bigger part of the shot thingy.
The Piss (v2)
The Piss(v2) brought with itself a renaissance in the world of disgusting mixes. It gave birth to the half-half-full formula that still lives on to this day. It also made us realise that using sodas and schulps was a bad idea, as they masked the clashing flavours. We also discovered that messing up the ratios has a devastating effect on the quality of the mix. But most importantly, it led to us discovering the meta of mixing: you first take something with a very forward, aggressive taste. Then, you try to find something which is similarly overwhelming, and doesn’t go well with your first one. But here comes the catch that most people don’t know about: you need to find a third drink, one that’s not as intense as the other two, and works to add an aftertaste that will not leave your mouth for hours.
This classic consists of a full shot of schelvis, half a shot of oude jenever and half a shot of malibu. Don’t try it.
The Anal
After the success of the Piss, I was reinvigorated. I had to fix my shortcoming. The kickass needed an upgrade. I needed to use Yank’s masochistic tendencies to my advantage.
And it worked! We made it worse! I was finally able to feel proud of myself again. This was the time I started looking at myself more like an artist than an idiot.
This eldritch horror is made up of a shot of sambuca, half a shot of fireman, half a shot of tequila and a tiny part of my growing pride. Don’t invite me if you want to try it, because I will feel compelled to join you, as I can’t afford to pay the fines for abandoning my child.
The Dreft
The name is quite descriptive here: smells like it should be used for cleaning outside your body, tastes like it, and your body will react to it accordingly.
There’s nothing more I could write about it really. It’s the basic bitch of my mixes.
This abomination is the combination of a shot of blue Curaçau, half a shot of tequila and half a shot of Disaronno. If you ask me to drink one with you I legally can’t say Disaronn-no to it (I will suffer tho).
The Blood
My magnum opus. The apple of my Eden. The Mona Lisa to my Leonardo Da Vinci. It’s perfect. It’s all I ever wanted (well, didn’t want to be more precise) in a mix. It’s disgusting. It’s got a cool name that matches the colour. It was made back when a unit of Coebergh was still a double shot. It hurts going down your throat, it nauseates when it gets to your stomach.
This war crime is made from a unit of Coebergh, half a shot of Sambuca and half a shot of Tennessee apple and the suffering I went through to get here. There are some madmen who for some reason like it. I myself would place them on a watchlist and every country’s no fly list. Try it. Make yourself hurt. Feel the pain I had to.
The Rotten Peach
Aaah, the rotten peach. A sloppy finish to an otherwise glorious journey. Nothing special, probably the most pleasant of the bunch. A failed revival of a washed up artist.
Combine half a shot of Peachtree, half a shot of Kahlua, a full shot of Trojka and the serenity and peace of mind finishing my fifth drink has brought me. You might just like it.
Epilogue
This concludes my journey of disgusting mixes, but it may just be the beginning of yours. I recommend you try expressing yourself in a similar fashion, as it’s no less of an art than painting or making music. Everything you make carries a piece of your soul with it (as well as a large piece of the remaining healthy part of your liver). But I cannot help. I am reformed (just ask Merijn, he can back me up on this). I make good cocktails now. People are getting their faith back in me. They’re starting to ask me for mystery drinks. It was a painful, but necessary part of my odyssey to become a better person.
Thanks for joining me, and please, share your ideas with me. I would love to laugh at your puny attempts at topping me.