The Spirits: Richard Godwin is starting a hipflask revolution

 
6 February 2014

There are reports of a revolution in Rio de Janeiro. Capital funding that is sorely needed for infrastructure projects has been wasted on the World Cup. The poor have taken to the streets in protest. The currency, the Real, is subject to such high inflation, it has gained a new name: the $urreal.

So extortionate is the price of entertainment — caipirinhas for £7.50, hamburgers for £12, etc — that many cariocas have decided to boycott the city’s bars and restaurants. “Não pague” (don’t pay) is the new rallying cry.

The “Isorporzinho” (icebox) movement is gathering momentum. This being Rio, it’s always an option to head down to the beach and make your own entertainment with a crate of cold beers, a portable samba band and 100-200 sexy friends.

How I smiled when I learned of this in a rain shower, in a Tube strike, in London. Only £7.50 for a cocktail, you say? A mere £12 for a hamburger? Truly, if Londoners started withdrawing their custom faced with such prices, our economy would cease to be. “£12.95 for a cinema ticket? Bring it on!” we cry. “£15 for a Mojito? Does it come in a jam jar? SOLD!”

In fact, the cheapest martini I can think of comes in at around £7 (the Anchor & Hope in Waterloo), the cheapest Negroni at £6 (on tap at Pizza Pilgrims in Soho). If you go to one of our smarter hotels, the Savoy or the Connaught, say, you can expect to pay treble that.

In a certain mood, it really does feel worth it, as an outrageous treat. But quite often, when I hand over my debit card, I do pine for the days that nightlife didn’t feel quite so exploitative. I get it that it’s expensive to pay London rents, stock a bar, remunerate a workforce, etc. I also get it that the word “COCKTAIL” is quite a good way of surcharging the naive.

It is one reason I have been instigating a small revolution of my own, inspired by the DIY spirit of Rio. This being London in winter, it is not possible to retreat to the beach with 100-200 sexy friends. It is possible to fill small portable bottle with something warming and withdraw it at an opportune moment to the delight of your companions. I call it the hipflask revolution.

I rarely go to the cinema without a small tot of something or other to pass round during the adverts. It certainly beats paying £3.95 on multiplex Coca-Cola. It might be a little brandy, topped up with a splash of peach liqueur and a dash of bitters. It might be some Scotch with some Italian vermouth, King’s Ginger and a tot of sloe gin. The trick is to choose something that will work well at room temperature — and to add just a dash of water to mimic the diluting effects of ice.

A bracing canalside walk; an art gallery date; third row at London Fashion Week; a miserable trudge home because there’s no Piccadilly line: these are all ideal hip flask situations. Perhaps in a slightly up-itself bar that’s just charged you £4.75 for a pint of Brooklyn lager? A Brazilian would see that as a civic duty, you know.

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