Pimm's No. 1

A not-very-secret open secret, Pimm's is probably discovered by countless travelers to the UK, each of whom thinks they are the only one in the world who has found it. In England it's the equivalent of, like, Jack Daniel's, in terms of ubiquity. However, in terms of taste, it's just fucking good, no matter where you are in the world.

The beautiful reddish amber color invites you, and the smooth taste keeps you hanging around. It's flavorful by itself, but best mixed with carbonated lemonade, ginger ale, or champagne.

Apparently its closely-guarded spiced-gin recipe is only known to six people in the world … perhaps the innermost circle of the Illuminatus, or conversely, the starting lineup of the Harlem Globetrotters? Wait a minute, first of all, wouldn't that be five people?; second of all, they'd not likely be drinking Pimm's. Hm … well, what about the Eagles, weren't there six of them at some point?

Well anyway, fuck the Eagles; I'm drinking Pimm's and lemonade as often as I can. I brought back a crate from the UK, and once that's exhausted, I'm sure I'll be ordering online with great frequency, and/or sending my shifty sidekicks on surreptitious trips in rickety chartered airplanes to London to get more.

Granted, there is no need for the rickety chartered airplanes, the shifty sidekicks, nor the surreptitiousness, as Pimm's is completely above board and available at pretty much any liquor store, but it's a lot more fun to pretend you're smuggling. As Glenn Frey would say: "It's the politics of contraband—it's the smuggler's blues."

How I ended up making two Eagles-related references in a review of Pimm's is beyond me. Perhaps I should cut myself off. From listening to the fucking Eagles, I mean.

Review by Janice Jomlin