Drink Me

Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole

...There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table...this time she found a little bottle on it, ("which certainly was not here before," said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words "DRINK ME" beautifully printed on it in large letters.

It was all very well to say "Drink me," but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. "No, I'll look first," she said, "and see whether it's marked "poison" or not"; for she...had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked "poison," it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

However, this bottle was NOT marked "poison," so Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast) she very soon finished it off.

"What a curious feeling!" said Alice; "I must be shutting up like a telescope."

And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going though the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; for it might end, you know, said Alice to herself, "in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?"

She tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.

- 'Alice in Wonderland' by Lewis Carroll

Alice's adventures inspire me at the oddest moments. Shrinking & drinking random elixirs may very well be the best thing for you at that given moment, opening up a world you never imagined possible.

The other day, it occurred to me to reflect upon what sort of drink I thought R was most like & what he thought I was.

He's Cafe de Olla. A Oaxacan coffee so simply wonderful you don't want to spoil it with cream or milk. It sits in a clay pot (the olla), bubbling and brewing with pure water, freshly ground coffee, cinnamon, & brown sugar (cloves/fresh orange rind are optional). I rarely drink coffee, but this is my favorite, taste & memory intertwined.

Standing outside in a crisp dawn full of beginnings by a Oaxacan roadside cafe, I filled my belly with a steaming medley of fragrance, flavor, & sensation. You are like that day, my love, dawn clouds obscuring & then revealing the adventurous & unknown mountains ahead, the ground firm beneath my feet, belly full of warmth & sweetness.

When I asked R what he thought I was, he cast back to his long-gone drinking days. A Fonseca 20-year old tawny port he called me - sweet, sharp, crisp, with a flavor that lingers on the tongue. Mellow, amber, & clear.

Makes me wonder what flavors, sensations, memories, fragrances, that others associate with their loved ones. It puts a whole new spin on dreaming about food & drink during Ramadhan.