The hole in the wall I wrote about earlier? Inside, away from the dust and battered pick ups in the car park, there were rows upon rows of sharply polished wooden shelves bearing a range of booze that would shame most vintners back home. And no cheap local moonshine, either; high quality, good labels.
On an aisle end I found this monstrosity and while we were taking the piss out of it and suggesting that the only people who would drink such a thing would be tracksuited royalty who name their children Mercedes Chlamydia and such.
While we were laying into it, a woman in a tracksuit walked past, lifted a bottle off the shelf and said “Its delicious over ice.”
Well, no further recommendation was necessary and I dropped a bottle of Girl into the trolley.
Back home we were disappointed to find it wasn’t the Baileys creamy consistency we’d anticipated. We’d been hoping for a sort of alcoholic Gaviscon. Sadly not. Clear and faintly medicinal with a ton of saccharine and cranberry added.
Drinkable, but not a choice for an entire evening.