Sunday, June 8, 2014
The tail end of a bottle of Pimm's has been living in the fridge for at least a year. It's a drink I forget about easily. Good, two days in a row, then suddenly cloyingly sweet (the Pimm's is mixed with ginger ale), and one shunts it back behind the bottle of Cassis (which turns glasses of white and sparkling wine pink, and makes Mississippi Mules, with good gin), the field garlic pickles and the tall jar of black currant chutney. Till a friend writes about drinking a Pimm's Cup, and suddenly, in the first warm evenings, it seem like a good idea, again.