Bring on the summer wine

My local liquor stores, which for years bore the stamp of illicit seediness, are so transformed in size and large displays of foreign and Indian wines that some look like art galleries, Sethi writes

Taken by a sense of contrariness, and overwhelmed by the heaving bar, I asked an old familiar waiter at the Delhi Gymkhana Club for a Pink Gin the other evening. “Kya kaha aapne?” he said, looking baffled. It was an odd choice, even for me. I dislike gin; no longer know the hip new crowd (all posh frocks, little black dresses and gym-toned bodies); and am irritated that few stock a concoction called Angostura Bitters, essential to Pink Gins, once a popular tipple when I became a member years ago. This curious product from Trinidad & Tobago in little black bottles with yellow screw tops was the discovery of a surgeon in Simon Bolivar’s conquering army. Don’t ask me why it became all the rage in clubs and bars. The potent gin-based brew, served in old-fashioned champagne glasses, before flutes took over, was considered terribly smart.

Fashions change despite any evidence that Indians are drinking less as the populist demand for complete or partial prohibition rises in many parts of the country. The 105-year-old Delhi Gymkhana’s one main bar has now expanded to five watering holes, tapping colonial nostalgia with names such as “Pub 1913”, “The Century Bar”, and “The Sip Factory”. 

What we are drinking is a topic of avid, even wild fantasy. At a large soiree of classical music and dance recently where the recommended dress code by textile designer Sanjay Garg of Raw Mango and Goodearth was traditional summer whites, and the décor dripped with showers of fresh jasmine, the 30-foot bar was a star attraction. It pullulated with spillers such as Jasmine Bellinis, Aam Ras Panna and White Rose cocktails spiked with vodka, and peach and orange-flavoured Aperol (an Italian aperitif) mixed with sparkling wine. Like pioneers from some newfound Ice Age bar tenders, now known as mixologists, are fording hidden rivers of entrepreneurship.

In this case, it was Shariq Khan of Cocktails and Dreams, a flourishing company that also offers six-month courses (for Rs 55,000) in mixology. Mr Khan, 38, is from Aligarh, a graduate of Delhi Public School and Shriram College of Commerce. “Life mein kaam karna hai, so when a friend invited me to take a course in bar management at ‘Mumbai Stir’, I thought ‘Let’s try it’.” He hasn’t looked back since, with a permanent staff of 15 and 50-60 part-timers when events demand. “Clients want new Indo-Western flavours. We customise wines and spirits with cardamom, cloves and ginger, and with flower essences of orchids and rose. Jamun puree martinis are a hit. And the wedding season gets crazy.” Himself, however, Mr Khan is avowedly tee-total. “I used to sip drinks for tasting. Now I don’t touch the stuff.”

Mumbai-based food writer Aneesha Baig, who keeps abreast of restaurant trends, reports that the upmarket Bombay Canteen serves a cocktail based on Chowpatty’s cheap ice golas doused in a syrup known as “kaala khatta”; and Delhi’s Monkey Bar came up with a drink called “Shazia Imli” when politician Shazia Ilmi switched political parties. “It sounds fun and funky but the rapid increase in brands of herb-infused artisanal gins and curated beers from micro-breweries means booze is big business.”

The capital’s famous band of word-of-mouth bootleggers who plied a roaring trade in supplying foreign wines and spirits are struggling. Attendance at diplomatic receptions that centred on freeloading a few glasses of Scotch has dropped dramatically. Khushwant Singh, who knew a thing of two about whiskies, used to grumble that the reason he hated his book launches was because they were crammed with gate-crashers and bar crawlers. “I recognise them, all there to get pissed at my publisher’s cost.”

My local liquor stores, which for years bore the stamp of illicit seediness, are so transformed in size and large displays of foreign and Indian wines that some look like art galleries. Internationally acknowledged oenophile Jancis Robinson, also the respected wine critic for the Financial Times, has long suggested that India could potentially become not only a wine-drinking nation but also a wine exporter. At a blind wine-tasting by her I attended some years ago, she came up with a list of steadily improving Indian wines of quality. The main hurdle to realising this potential is crippling excise duties.

Wine and cheese, she might have added, if she visited the operation of Flanders Dairy in Bahadurgarh, Haryana. Their retail outlet purveys 20 varieties of Indian cheese (and 13 imported products) from Red Chilli Gouda to Cherry Mozzarella, and Grana Padano to Manchego.

Prohibition, like the death penalty, is an idea whose time has gone. Well-known journalist Snigdha Poonam, who is from Ranchi, says that the Jharkhand border town of Koderma is routinely flooded with bibulous Biharis getting trashed.  

As for me, I am listening to dulcet-voiced Nancy Sinatra singing Summer Wine as I pour myself a happy glass of red. 

Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time

And I will give to you summer wine…