A year into the nothing-to-do of pandemia, I open another beer and set my ass on the same couch cushion. Never have I drank so much and so frequently at home. Never has my trash can been so laden with cans and bottles. In this strange twist of fate, all of us drink at home alone. Video happy hours and porch drinking may abstract our habit from the ideas of solitude and quarantine, but we cannot conceal the stark change that has occurred. We drink in this new territory which is the most familiar of all. No longer do we shower and apply perfumes before grabbing a glass of wine, no longer do we ponder how much the Uber price might surge at midnight, no, we are drinking at home. Last call is on our whim and we have to mix our own drinks. For some, this may not be such a stark change, but for others it constitutes an entirely new habit of drinking. The question then arises: how do we drink at home?
Luckily, Michael Fontaine translated and published the perfect book in 2020 for those of us new to home-bound drinking. The Art of Drinking, originally published as a Latin poem by the principal of an elite German high school in 1536, acts as a self help book to the ignorant drinker. The author, Vincent Obsopoeus, lived in an era of heavy binge drinking and dealt daily with uncontrollable students. He wanted to remedy the churlish drinking he saw in his own society. The book is fairly ridiculous, and the original author may be more of a hypocrite than he lets on, but the first issue addressed in the poem is the one the pandemic drinker may find most helpful—the art of drinking at home. While his tips are rudimentary, their message is welcome to those who are wary of confinement. Drinking at home has incredible silver linings, we just need to remember what they are.
Obsopoeus begins with a discussion on drinking at home because he finds it to be the most suitable place for a person to get drunk. The comforts and privacy of home are unparalleled. This must ring true for anyone who drinks in pajamas on their favorite couch. If there is one advantage that stands above the rest, it may well be comfort. Perhaps, after 1 year, we have forgotten the discomforts of drinking out because the comforts of drinking in have amnesiated us to long lines, gross bathrooms, rude bartenders, and unruly revelers. Drinking is to be enjoyed, and it is best enjoyed in comfort.
The author continues and sings high praise for a second reason drinking at home is preferable: devout wives. Although Obsopoeus’s views on gender roles are decidedly 16th century (he defines a good wife “a simple woman, sure, – but isn’t a stupid one”), his point here is also not lost on the at-home drinker today. Your partner is the best company with whom you can drink. Our 16th century principal explains that it is safe to get drunk and gabby with her. She already knows all of your worries and idiosyncrasies. On top of that, she is more loyal than even a best friend could be and understands your moods and problems more than blokes down at the bar. Obsopoeus gushes, “A wife’s more trustworthy than friends, more faithful than a brother, and a beautiful bride even beats your mom for loyalty.” In the pandemic, too, this feels honest and true. Drinking at home with a partner is not only safest by public health standards, but throws off most social anxieties we may face seeing exes or meeting friends of friends at bars in public. All too frequently, drinking involves a more honest and open version of ourselves. Trust is important for the enjoyment of this experience and our co-quarantiners are likely the most trusted people in our lives. There truly is no better drinking partner.
His third and final reason in praise of drinking at home is that there are no rules. One can be quite drunk and avoid embarrassments, arguments, and brawls. He asks, “Seriously, how often have you regretted abandoning your house and going out drinking with someone else, or having to put up with people arguing and fighting and other ordeals that are unworthy of a gentleman?” For an author who advocates moderation, this seems like a moot point, but it is well taken with this reader as well. I drink at home by my own rules, without a dress code or waiting in lines. The only obnoxious person around me is someone I know and love dearly. The craziness of a night out dissolves with a night in. The distractions are fewer and the enjoyment of the experience is heightened. His only caution is to be wary of what you may say or do in front of servants because they may go and tell the town. So if you have servants during this pandemic, beware.
Obsopoeus concludes that those who already drink at home need not read his book. Because drinking at home is the best way to drink, they have already mastered the art and need none of his advice. He dare not teach them the art for “their drinking lies outside my jurisdiction.” He tricked us really: there is no art of drinking at home. For this he will be forgiven, does he not remind those of us who have forgotten the many benefits of drinking at home to enjoy it as it is? We need no art to enjoy a beer on our couch, we only need to remember that there is good in every circumstance.
Linda B. Glaser |, and 2020 April 16. “Newly Translated 1500s Book Teaches the Art of Drinking.” Cornell Chronicle, 16 Apr. 2020, news.cornell.edu/stories/2020/04/newly-translated-1500s-book-teaches-art-drinking.
https://www.usatoday.com/story/opinion/2020/04/18/ancient-advice-for-drinking-home-during-coronavirus-self-quarantine-column/5132676002/
Vincentius Opsopäus, and Michael Fontaine. How to Drink : A Classical Guide to the Art of Imbibing. Princeton, New Jersey, Princeton University Press, 2020.
Huapilla is a drink fermented from the fruit of the Bromelia pinguin plant, a relative of the pineapple. It is a daily refreshment in the Huasteca region of Mexico, particularly in the city of Tampico. But, with hot weather and thirsty customers, competition in the market is fierce and vendors sell huapilla in a variety of ways. Nevertheless, it is still the same refreshing beverage that Tampico is known for.
Drinks come in all shapes and sizes, at least when you pour them into different cups. Pulque is no exception. The Mexican booze has evolved through many centuries of drinking culture. In the earliest eras, pulque was consumed out of natural materials like gourds or leaves. Under the Aztecs, clay vessel were used in ritual contexts. Modern Mexico used an abundance of different glass vessels, all of varying shape, size, and style.
A review of cook books and culinary histories in Savannah and Charleston reveals a variety of herbal teas, complex punches, and foraged fermentable. While sweet tea appears in these texts, it seems that the drinks of the Low Country past were far more colorful.
As the pineapple supply dwindled, prices skyrocketed. The USDA reports that pineapple prices tripled in South Africa from 28 cents per kilogram to over 90 cents. If the government would not allow the South Africans to buy their booze, they would use some Mzansi ingenuity to make it at home. For this purpose, they required pineapples.