Puritan Pub

Summer is here, the weather is hot and whisky tends to be too much fire for me during the summer months, so I like to experiment when it’s warm with different kinds of drinks. Last month my wife was visiting a friend and they introduced her to the Mojito cocktail. The following weekend we bought a bottle of Mojito premixed by Smirnoff, I’m not a cocktail kind of guy but tried it anyways. I didn’t really enjoy Smirnoff’s version, it’s made with vodka and I don’t like vodka. It’s been said, “…the only good thing to come out of Soviet Russia was vodka!” If that’s the case nothing good came out of Soviet Russia.

My wife and I decided that if we wanted a proper Mojito we would have to start from scratch. We bought mint leaves, club soda, rum, limes and even a muddler. Instead of telling you how to mix a Mojito I found a helpful video by a mixologist on Youtube to do just that.

I made them with sugar and without. I like them without sugar and will definitely make them in the future. They’re many tasty variations of the Mojito, excluding the vodka Mojito, the few I’ve tried are very refreshing. The rum is well hidden so be aware it can pack a sucker punch. If you’re looking for a fancy refresher this summer with a lot of flavour try a Mojito.

jm

by Rev. Daniel Kok

An Ode

Dragons tails have nothing on my beauty
Wide eyed and perched I wander
As it entrails into the wild blue yonder
This my long and not-so-arduous duty

I wonder hard and true
I sit with mighty glance
This a reasonable and comfortable flue
As I enjoy such perfect chance

Joking, not choking
Loving, not supping
Fire yet with ire
Wait, I’ll find an antonym!

Whene’er I take my pipe and stuff it
And smoke to pass the time away
My thoughts, as I sit there and puff it,
Dwell on a picture sad and grey:
It teaches me that very like
Am I myself unto my pipe.

Like me this pipe, so fragrant burning,
Is made of naught but earthen clay;
To earth I too shall be returning,
And cannot halt my slow decay.
My well used pipe, now cracked and broken,
Of mortal life is but a token.

No stain, the pipe’s hue yet doth darken;
It remains white. Thus do I know
That when to death’s call I must harken
My body, too, all pale will grow.
To black beneath the sod ’twill turn,
Likewise the pipe, if oft it burn.

Or when the pipe is fairly glowing,
Behold then instantaneously,
The smoke off into thin air going,
‘Til naught but ash is left to see.
Man’s fame likewise away will burn
And unto dust his body turn.

How oft it happens when one’s smoking,
The tamper’s missing from it’s shelf,
And one goes with one’s finger poking
Into the bowl and burns oneself.
If in the pipe such pain doth dwell
How hot must be the pains of Hell!

Thus o’er my pipe in contemplation
Of such things - I can constantly
Indulge in fruitful meditation,
And so, puffing contentedly,
On land, at sea, at home, abroad,
I smoke my pipe and worship God.