Sidra: Not for Pussies

I'll be the first to tell you that the Asturian Spanish sidra tastes like what I'd expect pee to taste like. It's poured from approximately a meter (piss length), from keg or bottle to glass, and it makes a funny hog-pissing-on-a-flat-rock noise. The "nose" smells, well, like an unattended urinal. It's room temp. The color is straw, and the taste is sourish. Apparently, it's what an apple-a-day gets you on the Iberian penninsula.

But dammit, when I'm in Spain, I just love the shit. Maybe it's that it's such a strange departure from U.S. of A sensibilities. Part of it has gotta be the glass that they serve it in. It's a typical tumbler, but thin, thin, THIN crystal.

I have six, thanks to Mr. & Mrs. NH, and they are indeed cool. But even in the Land of Plenty, sidra is met with a curious stare. I can't get it. I get referrals to Woodchuck Cider, which doesn't come close to fitting the bill. Online bottles? Meh.

So I've been doing TnT's in my sidra glasses. A TnT, you say? It's the drink sensation that's sweeping the nation... sub gin for tequila, add tonic and a lime, and you've got it. Order it in public, and all of a sudden, you're a trendsetter. And if it's diet tonic, it's a low-cal sub for a margarita.

I don't make this up, folks. I look out for you so you don't have to. Just keep the sidra to trained professionals, OK?

*Fragrant, ant-filled peonies are an optional, North American accessory. But chicks dig 'em, and they do smell 'purty.