Drinking Game (2.19.25)

If only you could bottle that...

Because my dad’s job took him all over the world, I lived in several different countries as a child, before spending my teen years in Southeast Asia. I think that’s how I developed a taste for – indeed, a fascination with – local beverages.

Bandung, which means “pairs” in Bahasa, is an iced concoction commonplace in Singapore and Malaysia, but virtually unheard of beyond. The coming-together of rose cordial and evaporated milk elevates this delicate, floral and grown-up alternative to strawberry milk. Enjoyed with pound cake, or if fortune smiles, some nonya kueh, its sweet bouquet reliably brightens any mood. Rose cordial is nigh impossible to find in New York. When I chanced upon some tucked away in a high corner shelf of a specialty food store, I bought out the whole inventory, without hesitation.

Calamansi is a citrus fruit, much like a lime, but with the faintest aftertaste that registers, in protest, “I am NOT a lime”. Some describe the note as “tangerine-like” – a sweet accent that mutes the acid tartness. God made lemons to tame fish, limes to brighten tacos, and calamansi juice for thirst. Just a sip reminds me of open-air dining in Singapore: the humid night laced with smoke wafting across smoldering charcoal; the heavy honey scent of satay sizzling on the grill; hints of coriander, turmeric and caramelized sugar tickling the floating embers. When a searing bite of sweet, tender chicken dipped in rich peanut sauce chases a pungent crunch of diced red onion, my hand instinctively reaches out in search of a slick glass; the cold condensation thrills my fingertips, a promise of the quenching calamansi within.

Photo by Ruben Sukatendel on Unsplash

I know, I know. A beverage seems such a trivial thing, compared to art, architecture, music and the other anthropologically vital stuff that tells the story of a people’s culture. But what is England without tea, or France without wine?

When I research vacation hotels, a convenient supermarket is essential. Often, it’s our first holiday stop, how a new country introduces itself to us. I make a beeline for the drinks section, and mentally inventory all the soda, juice, coffee and tea on offer. I ignore Coke, Starbucks, and anything that I see at home. This, on the other hand, sets the pulse racing:

Long minutes are spent admiring product artwork, deciphering flavors in unfamiliar foreign languages, divining taste profiles. To discern best-sellers from also-rans, I scan for little clues, such as items carried in ample stock, or something which has almost sold out. And it never hurts to ask a local for advice.

The prize for a successful hunt is an enjoyable refreshment to round out every travel experience – “Agrum” while strolling the Champs Elysees, “Pompelmo” after walking miles through the Vatican, or “Mets Litchi” to sustain us at a Kyoto flea market.

Any recommendations to share?

J