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It is a dog. No, a hound. Tufts of layered, dense, matted purple fur rolls over wide shoulders and long, hunched neck. A whimpering mule shudders up from the body as I approach. SNAP. My boot crunches the twig and a wince. The muling stops and I watch those shoulders slope forward, the head turning my way...and a pit forms in my stomach. A humanoid, twisted face with burning red eyes stares back at me, jaw hanging open. A mix of flat and sharpened teeth jut out from open mouth, and the moaning returns, rising to a howl. I try to draw my sword, but my body can only shake as I watch the hound rise and float a foot off the ground. Even as it wales, its head tilts to the side curiously. Then it flies toward me.  Gifts Of The Dark FeyIf one impresses members of the Old Guard of Fey, they might be gifted with a Yeth Hound. Such a gift is high praise, as the Yeth is a companion for life, connected telepathically to their master and charged with their protection at all costs. But these hounds reflect their original creators, and are by no means good creatures. Originally personified by a headless, bloodied hound in some cultures, the origin of a Yeth is one rooted in sorrow, always reflected in their strange, baleful howl. To hear the howl is a warning, but to see its source often spells doom. According to Volo's Guide, these creatures are large hounds with flat, humanoid faces and features, and though it looks like they may bound quickly, they often HOVER creepily overhead. It is this unnatural mobility that makes them deadly sentries for their masters. By The NumbersIn terms of raw defenses and hit points, the Yeth Hound isn't that intimidating, but make sure you're packing something silver. Their physical stats (Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution) are noticeably high, but they're dumb as a post most of the time. Where they become truly dangerous is in their unnatural, creepy mobility and their dreaded "Baleful Baying" howl ability. The thing's got a 300 foot range, so make sure your Wisdom is decent before engaging with one. If you happen to be one of the unlucky low rollers against the howl, that frightened condition does a lot more for the Yeth than it does for you, stacking on extra psychic damage for its scared victims. And I can't blame them; the image of this thing bearing down on you is NOT pleasant. As an aside, I was actually very intrigued to write about this thing. There is something wholly unnerving about these large Fey doggos with humanoid faces, who creepily hover overhead and paralyze prey with their baleful howl. It's just such an unsettling image. Add on to this the fact that as long as it's on the same plane as its master, it can ALWAYS contact it telepathically. Woof, buddy. The Yeth In IoSentries Of The Deep NightAs servants gifted by old Fey, a Yeth Hound always has a home in the Feywild. Denizens and visitors alike who gain favor in the Verdant Court may find themselves with a Large, loyal, and evil companion that can't be charmed or frightened away. Just, imagine for a moment, waking up with this thing sitting in your living room. Just. THERE. Totally silent. And then its red eyes slowly turn your way, like some living furred statue and a voice enters your mind like Dug from Up. "I sat in your living room in the dark because I love you. And now I'll love you FOREVER." The face doesn't change the entire time. Lol. But not just any Fey can gift you a Yeth. They must be made first, and only one of the four Courts knows how. Skilled in curses and the binding of souls, the Ladies Of Winter, under the instruction of King Oberon himself, have much practice in plucking the unfortunate mortals of deals gone wrong and pipers unpaid, and supplanting their essence into a new form - one to serve the Deep Night and the citizens of Air and Darkness. If a singular entity can be gifted one Yeth for an impression, imagine the army Winter commands. Hundreds of baleful, wailing sentries silently drifting across the night skies; keeping watch and wary over the fane kingdoms. Watch for the red eyes and motionless face, and keep your distance, lest the mournful cries of a soul forever trapped in servitude reaches your ears...and rends your mind asunder. Sleep well, travelers. -Adamus Help support this blog and vote on its Monster Of The Week, every month, every week, by heading over to my Patreon.
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I don't often take requests for tasting. Not because I'm some eldritch snob who couldn't be bothered by the inquiries of his minions and seeks only to watch his endeavors execute - a diatribe of burning villages and rising tides, fallen to the wayward eclipse of many an errant and shattered heart! ...I just don't get very many. So when a random patron brought up a singular reference, in a singular moment, I was peaked to do a little digging. What transpired was a short rabbit hole ending in a curious drink. Curious only in the sense that I had never heard of it. The Chestnut Cup An odd duck popularized in a little restaurant in Santa Monica. Learning of its apparent popularity, I dug up its recipe and tried it on for size. It did not go well. The Chestnut Cup is garbage (so I fixed it)ORIGINAL RECIPE - The Chestnut Cup
1 oz Gin 1 oz Campari 1 oz Lemon Juice 3/4 oz Orgeat TASTING NOTES + Oh, isn't that a nice fruity... + What IS that finish?? It's a sour cling to the back of my mouth, throat, and nose? + Still waiting for it to get better. + Tastes like rotting grapefruit. + Not fermented, like in the good way, just rotten. + Second sip: in fact, the whole drink tastes...wrong. Like there's one note that's being played as loud as possible out of tune. So what happened? Campari happened. No joke. Super expensive, rotten liqueur. Just to be sure, I sipped it on its own...and spat it out. The first liqueur I've ever done that with. Not kidding. Even Black Sambuca, and Uzu of all things, I swallowed to measure the finish. THIS STUFF was unbearable. And it spoiled the whole drink! So I removed it. Let's class this up a bit. Yes, yes, Campari supposed to be this high class liqueur that only the snobs drink. Is this one of those real-life examples of when rich people down literal rotten food and call if caviar? Cuz that's what it feels like. Congratulations, you've arrived at my first truly CONTROVERSIAL blog post about booze. Woot. Instead, let's consider flavor pairings. Gin is a Vodka derivative with a citrus quality. This is why Tequila blends so well in its company. With this knowledge, I swap out the disgusting Campari for Grand Marnier (orange liqueur). The compliment is a match made in noble blood. Lemon juice and Orgeat already do a great job elevating the Gin, so I only adjusted their levels. The end result...is actually enjoyable to the mouth and does not assault the senses. Classy. MOONRIVER VARIATION - The Chestnut Chalice 1 oz Gin 1 oz Grand Marnier 3/4 oz Lemon Juice 3/4 oz Orgeat 4 Dashes Orange Bitters TASTING NOTES + Ah, what a nice citrus front! + Bright finish, and sweet. + I scaled back the Lemon, and the Gin and Grand Marnier compensate well. + Orgeat makes the drink feel bigger and thicker, allowing the flavors to mingle in the syrup + An easy sip. ... You're welcome. -Adamus For more Behind-The-Scenes of my painting process, exclusive deals, and my full catalogue of finished works, visit my Patreon.
In the time immemorial, long before the mortals killed them, the masters of the goblin races beseeched the General of Gehenna for aid. The General provided yugoloth souls to serve the goblinoid triumvirate in the Infinite Battlefields of Acheron. Yet when the time came to honor the debt, the goblin gods reneged on the deal. The powerful entities that ruled Gehenna marked the goblinoid races for slaughter, and, as an act of vengeance, created the scourge of their nightmares...  A Wolf In Sheep's ClothingIn 5th Edition, a Barghest is born from goblin parents just like any other offspring. But this entity harbors a deadly and dreadful secret. Though it emerges in a goblin's body, it will learn quickly how to assume its true form: that of a large, fearsome, and fiendish canine. In some cultures and lore, the difference is clear: a Barghest can be a yellow-skinned goblin of bigger, more muscular frame, and is marked by the fearsome yellow glow that spills into their eyes when they're excited. In other cultures, the Barghest looks like any other of its sheep, and will do its best to hide its true nature, at least in the beginning. A Barghest's purpose is to devour the goblinoid souls of creatures it kills, the more important or renowned the better. This means that they are discerning with whom they "honor" in consumption, and there's a limited number of seats in their mission. You see, when Maglubiyet, and others like them, broke in total 17 oaths to the General, so it is decreed that one soul be consumed for every broken oath. After this, the Barghest may return to Gehenna and reap the spoils of its completed mission. Fail, and be torn asunder for its insolence. For this one might think that a Barghest discovered by its goblinoid brethren would be killed in fear, but it is often the exact opposite. Goblins and others of their ilk will fawn over and shower the discovered Barghest with praise, servitude, and diminutive allegiance, constantly attempting to show that they are equal parts useful to its cause AND lowly enough to be undeserving of consumption. It is this strange dance that will drive those under a Barghest's leadership to commit great deeds in their name, only to be cut down and eaten for such renown. Rooted In FolkloreAs with many of our modern edition's monsters, the classical images and inspiration we draw from have a long history of deep folklore and iteration. The Barghest is no stranger to this, summoning up dark tales across multiple peoples and regions. According to old North English folklore, the Barghest was a mythical, monstrous black dog with huge claws and sharp teeth. This original picture holds true across time, if not for a few creative liberties and adjustments, but the etymology of the word is of note. Barghest, or Barguest, roughly translates to "bear" and "ghost" in the old tongue. Couple this with further alternative spellings and we get my favorite version, the Bahr-geist, bringing the rough translation swinging more toward "spirit of the funeral pyre." This creature has always been connected to the consequences of death, much more than a simple ghost story. A creature of intense malice and hatred, its purpose is derived through perceived destruction of its own community, at least at first, but ends in realms of power. What began as a warning of the things that go bump in the night grew into tales of shapeshifters and long-lived fiends, doppelgängers and howling at the moon, and a lupine strength coupled with a sentient intellect, and a burning, hateful purpose. By The NumbersA Barghest is one tough cookie. Already resistant to most elemental damage and non-magical weapon damage, this thing boasts an AC of at least 17, and have no stat with a negative modifier. Trained in Deception, Stealth, Intimidation, and Perception, they are keen to their surroundings and good liars. Couple that with superior tracking abilities and innate charming spells at their disposal, and you've got a tricky (and STRONG) not-goblin on your hands. Did I mention it has Blindsight and Telepathy out to 60 feet? Dude. FIRE BADDespite its fiendish classification, the Barghest has a difficult relationship with fire, but not for the reasons you think. It's resistant to the stuff, which tracks, but any mass of it larger than the Barghest's body acts as a tearing of the veil between this plane and Gehenna, and poor thing can be banished there just by being in close proximity. Sure, you think, they can just bamf back, right? Unfortunately, no, as a Barghest is more likely to be caught, tortured, and killed for its failure to collect its souls for the General. Tough luck, doggo. The Barghest In The Ionian Shadowfell Twisted By Perpetual DarknessThe Ionian Shadowfell is one of dark purpose. Creatures born here do not hold sway in D&D's legacy of a sorrow-filled landscape. No, the creatures that spawn in this place are fueled by furious purpose and twisted by the Perpetual Night. The Barghest is a rarity among such denizens, but their existence, especially following the engineering colonization before the turn of Io Shar, is not unheard of. Goblinoid mariners and pirates became more common beyond the Evernight, far in the reaches of Gressil's Helm. Goblins and Hobgoblins born on the dark sea can sometimes bear the Mark of Gehenna, a sigil of deep crimson in the small of the back. Creatures bearing the Mark are both cursed and blessed with extreme bloodlust and wicked strength. At a coming of age, often in battle, the Mark can manifest, turning the skin of a "marked" jet black, and its true form will reveal itself. Barghests take many forms in the Shadowfell, but all are lupine. Some appear like broken glass, the shards a refraction of their vision. Others are amorphous clouds with teeth. Many are hounds with sharpened, boney spurs and horns. And all are very, very dangerous.  Hounds Of The ChainbreakerIt is the Barghest's greatest will and purpose to complete its mission and return to the Generals of Gehenna. A throne awaits them in The Bleak Eternity. Yet, this mission could take months, years, decades. In this time, a creature could gain power, prestige, and ownership. Perhaps they gain even more fulfillment than what awaits them in the worlds beyond. Which begs the question: what happens when a Barghest completes their mission...and does not wish to return? Is it power or retribution that awaits them? To scorn their masters and their promise, and break the chains of their birthright. Or are they the husks of great warriors before, the lost soldiers of Gehenna hopelessly clinging to life and sanity, even as their masters siphon away what's left? Unfortunately, the lore ends here. For no one seeks the Hounds of the Chainbreaker. The only thing that persists is a tiny warning scrawled in the stained journal of a deckhand, lone survivor of The Kretch Jumper and their ill-fated voyage. "And to the poor souls that tempt venture beyond the ruins of Evynlee's Veil and seek the Moaning Gray through the Formless Cante, keep your eyes pinned to the horizon and seek not the masked hound that watches you from the peaks...for it covets all that meet its third eye." It is worth noting that this message is written as its last entry, and the handwriting does not match previous entries. More Of This PleaseUnfortunately, in my experience so far, this critter is drastically underutilized. Their story is one of grand deception, superior command, and a cosmological mission with possible sweeping consequences. Imagine a villain poised as general of a goblin army, especially considering the complex relationship with his subjects. Imagine a hero, biting the line between the best picks of the worst people to destroy for his dark master.
There's a lot of depth here, and I can't wait for my players to begin to scrape the surface. Sleep tight, doggo. -Adamus Source: The Barghest can be found in Volo's Guide To Monsters, published by Wizards of the Coast for use in 5th Edition Dungeons & Dragons; also, TONS of actual British folklore. Help support this blog and vote on its Monster Of The Week, every month, every week, by heading over to my Patreon. Some Lore Drop and ContextSailing through the Ionian Shadowfell, the young adults recently encountered a curious lady. Whilst staying at the Grendal's Spindle in the machinist city of Kennrock, the captain of the group looked for a local to hang out with. As luck would have it, she came across a well-dressed woman face down on a table and surrounded by partially empty tankards. The woman, though, sprung to drunken life as the captain sat to join her. Dressed in a fine coat of gold and crimson, she rocks a belted corset over a white silk shirt, the open collar revealing the thin mithril chain underneath. Two "gunslinger" belts cross around her hips, accenting the hip-hugging leathers below, the brand of a barbed whip just barely visible before it disappears up under the corset. Her hair is a deep magenta-red that fades to black, and her pale skin only further draws the eyes to her own; rings of topaz and black, that seem to spiral and telescope depending on her level of interest in the conversation. As she smiles, it is a tentative action; nervous, but playful, as if she is gauging how others may react. Fair, considering the not-so-subtle fangs on one side of her face... This is Miriam Windrunner. The players know her to be the niece of one of the Vampire Lords directly connected to another Player-Character, but only the captain knows that information at the time of writing this (a lot can change in a week, though). Miriam is my play on a Fell Dhampir - a progeny born from the union of a vampire and another being, a creature always wrestling with monstrous lineage and making their own way. The "Fell" part of this complicates things; as creatures born in the Shadowfell are blessed or cursed with more mysterious abilities that only get more complicated and interesting as you get older. To help with this, Miriam carries with her an adamantine blade. Like a cross between a longsword and a straight katana, it vibrates at a strange frequency when drawn, seeming to focus the wielder's attacks in battle somehow. Yet, Miriam rarely draws the weapon. She carries it for the little perk it offers instead; companionship. You see, the pommel of the blade is a sculpted, ashen skull...named Bob. Bob is sentient, his eyes lighting up with blue fire and jaw unhinging to speak whenever Miriam calls his name. She quiets him by gently stroking the skull's head with her thumb. Bob serves and protects Miriam unconditionally, even if he offers unwanted advice often. Manifesting sometimes as an adorable, magenta skeleton spirit with a sword and shield, or a druidic staff, he serves both as the Dhampir's Spiritual Weapon and Healing Spirit, depending on what is required, and he would never leave her side. Beyond this accord, though, it remains a mystery on the what the depth of their relationship is, and that is a story for another day. Influences and ThemingAnyone that knows my affinity for Jim Butcher's The Dresden Files can clearly see where I'm pulling Bob from, but the narrative device of a spiritual companion is one that's been explored fifty times over in fantasy. And in the dark and dangerous Shadowfell, it felt right to introduce such a thing for a creature that, at least at one time, would have been very lost.
Miriam Windrunner is, now, a capable young woman. Not a loner by any means, she will protect those she finds connections with, even at great risk to herself. Yet, once they are safe, she finds little need to follow; she is currently a creature of instances - wayward, strong, but directionless and mysterious. When I ponder her, it is an image of drifting fog, like smoke on the water; yet, when you meet her, she is immediately intriguing. So I wanted to explore that idea with flavors. Now, I'm not some nuanced scholar of mixology, I just wanted to make something with a certain aesthetic that tastes nice. If it evokes a few subtle feelings, even better. THE LOOK Hanging on to that image of smoke on the water, I am drawn to one of my silver liquors. Silver Rum ain't my jam at the moment, so I pull out the Tequila. It also doubles as a distinct, vibrant flavor. A splash of lime will bring out the hints of sour. But now we just have a "mostly water" with a rusty green from the lime. I've been experimenting with syrups lately, so let's bring out the Orgeat, a hazelnut syrup popular in rum drinks, and mix that in. Yes. After a quick stir, the thicker marzipan syrup "muddies the waters" if you will. And, after a sip, smooths that Tequila right away without sacrificing it. The first flavor that came to mind when considering Miriam, however, was the underrated Stella Rosa Pink. Bright, silky flavors without being overpowering, I thought it aligned beautifully with her personality. And following my success in blending Pink and cinnamon, I am overconfident this will work out. THE RECIPE 2 oz Silver Tequila 1 oz Orgeat 1/2 oz Lime Juice 3 oz Stella Rosa Pink Wine TASTING NOTES + A lovely drink + Tequila is a flavor you don't hide, so the Pink and Orgeat only smooths its finish + A great vehicle to accent the Orgeat without overpowering other flavors + Pleasant and smooth and bright + Effervescent + I could drink this easily and quickly...be careful Adding on that the wine brings a silky pink chamise to the visual is just icing on the cake, as it reminds me of her crimson coat, which is awesome. See you in the shadows. -Adamus For more Behind-The-Scenes of my painting process, exclusive deals, and my full catalogue of finished works, visit my Patreon.
Zipping through the thicket and brim, little Zym left the lumbering oaf far behind. Skating along the water's edge, he skips easily along the liquid and dances up the lily to perch in the phosphorus purple sky. Miles away, his eyes twitch down to the spoils of his mischief: a locket, large in his hands. It is brass, with a gold chain, and metal clasp. Zym clicks it open to reveal a beautiful portrait of an elven maiden - a noble perhaps. With a proud grin, Zym snaps the locket shut, tying it onto his back and, with a bolt and a blur, disappears into the Underwood...  At A GlanceIn 5th Edition, a Quickling is a tiny, mischievous fey of lightning speed. They think and act quickly, moving faster than the untrained eye can track, and most creatures see them as mere blurs. To a Quickling, however, the outside world is painfully slow. They see it all in transfixed time, not unlike our recent renditions of Quicksilver on the big screen. This boring world with a lack of motion and meaning creates a creature of jittery purpose and mobility. If a Quickling is ever "at rest", it would be found pacing, and not for long. They are the plight of the of those that wander the strange forests of the Fey, tying shoelaces, stealing coin purses, tricks of artful malice; and though they sometimes blur their chaotic intentions and sew violent discord, they never seek to murder...at least not directly. An Insult Too ManyMab, the Queen of Air and Darkness, is not to be left waiting. To do so is to incur the wrath of one of the oldest and most powerful Archfey in existence. And yet, this exact insult is the crux of a Quickling's lineage. Once a race of egotistical, lazy, and narcissistic Fey, these gluttonous creatures ignored and delayed a summons one too many from their great Queen. So, as an Archfey is want to do, she cursed them. Their tall frames were shrunk to tiny sprites. Their slow minds quickened to an alarming, maddening speed. These Fey, under their new life, would never be late again, the insolence of their hubris burned into the fibers of their being. By The NumbersThese are tiny, fast, hyper dextrous creatures with itty-bitty hit points and decent AC. They won't last long in a fight, though, at least not one on one. But just as an army of squirrels is still an army, 1d4+6 (Dexterity of at least 22!?) adds up right quick, and with their evasive, blurred movement, if ever your adventures happen upon a batch of them, they'll need a better strategy than "stab it until it dies." Quicklings in the Ionian FeywildUnlike other entries, the Quickling's Faerunian lore fits perfectly already into the core concepts and forces that rule my Feywild and its regions. The only adjustment here may be in the relationship of the Quickling's curse.
While I am certain that some Quicklings worship their Queen openly, I would assume that many harbor a great ill will toward the Queen, and a great fear to never act on it. I, being a cruel world-builder, have woven a long, manipulated memory into the Quickling that spins the Queen's actions as an act of salvation. The lazy Fey would certainly have perished without her "blessing," so they worship and serve her without question. In fact, the most zealous and devout Quicklings will create "orders" and guilds in direct service to the Winter Court so as to gain the Queen's favor. Such favor achieved...is rare, and if ever it happens, THAT Quickling may actually last in a one-on-one fight. So if a chill breeze follows a Quickling, exercise caution if you mean to chase it into the Deep Wood. See you in the forest. -Adamus Source: Quicklings and their official 5th Edition attributes can be found in Volo's Guide To Monsters, published by Wizards of the Coast. Help support this blog and vote on its Monster Of The Week, every month, every week, by heading over to my Patreon. The White RussianMy first experience with a White Russian was at a corner bar, a tiny subset of the local Wood & Tap. The restaurant proper would later give me food poisoning, but the bar was a splendid experience. While rocking my masters and for some time after I was one of the musicians in fantastic music ensemble called the Symphonic Capitol Winds. While in it, I was happy to know and bond with several awesome musicians, many whom I remain friends with to this day, and have enjoyed extensive conversations with. We would discuss philosophy, teaching pedagogy, relationships, music, and our place in the universe. So it was in this bar where I waited patiently for my friends to arrive where I met a great bartender. We chatted about flavors and I told him to "surprise me." A few minutes later he returned with a tall glass filled with vanilla ice cream, fudge swirls, Kahlua, and probably heaps of vodka. It was a great presentation, topped with housemade whipped cream and marachino drizzle. I proceeded to have three. Then my friends arrived, and I was SO HAPPY to see them. I also could not stand correctly. This drink, I was informed by that cool bartender, was a White Russian, and I immediately sought this drink out wherever I could after this. It was always excellent there, so that became the industry standard which all other drinks would now be compared to. Turns out, though, that the addition of ice cream and fudge is the more decadent variation on the original recipe, which involves adding heavy cream to about 2 ounces of Vodka and about 1 ounce of Kahlua (the original sans cream being the Black Russian). Some schmucks even go light on the cream and fill the rest up with crushed ice! They did that on our honeymoon cruise and I was LIVID. So if you're going to make this classic, I suggest you start with the Black Russian base: 2 oz Vodka 1 oz Kahlua Then fold in either heavy cream, or 1-2 scoops vanilla ice cream, and top with fudge syrup and whipped cream. Because CLEARLY that's the ONLY way to do this drink. ;) Spectral VariationSince the White Russian is just a variation on the Black Russian and every new path in this liquor's journey is a new variation on a theme, let's do the Moonriver proud and BREAK SOME RUSSIANS!
...That came out weird... Green and Black 2 oz Vodka 1 oz Kahlua 2 scoops Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream Blend and serve! Rooted Rally 2 oz Vodka 1 oz Kahlua 2 scoops Vanilla Ice Cream 2 oz Root Beer Liqueur Blend and serve, ya drunks! The Rising Wight 2 oz Vanilla Vodka 1 oz Kahlua 2 scoops coffee ice cream 1 oz Irish Cream Blend and serve, with a straw and good company. All three of these variations have been knockouts at my bar, so I can pledge their effectiveness. Besides, the ice cream lines the stomach so the alcohol isn't absorbed as quickly...right? The Dude abides...for he is a lich. Beware the Dude. -Adamus For more Behind-The-Scenes of my painting process, exclusive deals, and my full catalogue of finished works, visit my Patreon.
In my deep studies and dives into mixology, I am often delighted at the affirmations of my insights and gambles. It seems, most of the time, I have a decent idea of what I am doing, and there is no other feeling quite like setting aside the chemistry of a drink's draft before research and celebrating your apparent genius after. And though this practice fosters a keen and sharp wit and confidence in the subject, it can also drive the hooks of hubris deep before wrenching you to the floor. There is much still to learn, grasshopper. Bloody PiratesThe chemistry of liquor could be argued toward an exact science. Parts and ratios, surgical measurements, yet loose enough to garner such phrases as "a dash" of this or a "splash" of that. There appears to be some arcanum in play as well, at least among the most pure. There are garnishes, and smokes; matches and incantations; so much that one believes flailing an orange over a glass gives it just the right "touch" of citrus. And when I'm not casting spells to make things delicious, I am ruminating on the curious cavalcade of cutthroats and pinchpurses that just cannot seem to get along, no matter how many times I force them onto the same boat. Let's consider what I call "Morgan's Fleet." No liquor is created equal, which is why offshoots like Lady Bligh (sweeter and mild) exist alongside Admiral Nelson (bright and sharp), with Captain Morgan the original reference point of rum. Kraken leans between Morgan and Nelson, and the ever-surprising Oakheart lends a slightly earthy tone between Morgan and Bligh. The CLEARLY Bligh clone of Blackheart Rum leans heavily beyond Bligh, too smooth for her own good. Each of these rums on their own serve well in simple pairings, and can be quite tasty in these realms, elevating them to a mansion of high class. ...Put them in the same room, however, and they draw swords and kill each other, leaving behind essentially dirty water. What I mean is, in my first attempt at crafting what I professed to be "my strongest drink" (a feat I believe has already been achieved in the form of the Incubus, go figure), I thought it would somehow be a good idea to blend all my favorite rums together. So I took some Bligh, some Morgan, some Kraken, a little Oakheart, and a splash of Blackheart. ...It was devoid of all flavor. It left my tongue NUMB in boredom. So I tried again. Morgan, Bligh, Kraken. Nothing. All flavors nullified. Morgan and Bligh only? There's flavor, but it has no heart. Frustrated, I put the concept away. I had a campaign to run and plenty of other drinks to write about, so no worries. Flash forward a few months to the second week of teaching in the odd-as-hell Hybrid Model as a music teacher and I'm conceptualizing the conflicting flavors in a dose of my FIREWATER, a drink idea that's been rolling around for some time. It starts simple - a double shot of Fireball (makes sense, but if I don't like it, I've got After Shock to help out), then about a 1/2 oz of Lime Juice for some citrusy bite. Adapting from an old idea, I call in an ounce of Vodka (hmm), a quarter ounce of 151 Rum (HMM), and an ounce of...Captain Morgan. The initial sip is a blastoise cannon of Lime, all semblance of rum or vodka GONE from the mixture. A hint of Fireball lingers in the wings, and the warmth is there (one of the targets of the draft), but after a second sip ALL I TASTE IS LIME. Where'd my pirate go? What the hell happened? It is my understanding that if Spiced Rum is one of the core liquors in your drink, that you use only ONE RUM. The second test craves that citrus, but without the Lime, so I have some swapping to do. I propose the following changes: TEST #2 Switch out the Vodka for Gin, and omit the Lime juice completely. X out the 151, and keep the Captain on standby for a splash or two if needed Fold in 1 oz of Jamaican Silver Rum Add in 2 dashes of aromatic bitters The Experience The Gin is precisely what this drink needed. The subtle citrus quality makes the Fireball a bright, shining, cinnamon sun. Bitters bind the Silver Rum into the fold, so no need for the Captain...but something's still missing. Alas, this one is far from done. Silver LiningsThough I've been pretty lucky so far, not every drink is a knock-out, and there are splendid lessons to be found in our hilarious "mistakes."
While dumping out the poor wasted liquor of the first test, a quick sniff of the glass elevated that sense of fire, like I had "rinsed" it with Fireball. I was looking for something light and easy to cleanse my palette and I reached for my Stella Rosa Pink (carbonated, light, sweet wine). Pouring just a touch into the glass, the smell (and resulting taste) was transcendent without carry; light, but satisfying. So I ventured further. I don't want to sacrifice what the Pink brings to the table, so just a half ounce of Fireball in a whiskey glass, and fill it up with Stella Rosa Pink. It is lovely and bright; warm at the back and sweet at the front. Both for its color and profile, I name her my Ladefyre, and she is lovely. Taste and toast well to what you are thankful for in this crazy world. See you at the Bar. -Adamus |
Adam SummererProfessional Game Master musician, music teacher, game designer, amateur bartender, and aspiring fiction author. Mondays: Patreon Mini
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