Day 090: Bev of the Week – Eggnog
I spent a good portion of my life dodging eggnog. This is mainly due to the fact that it was never offered to me. Also, it has the word egg in it, which the thought of made me gag until I was a cultured adult that appreciated cholesterol-laden breakfasts. To me, eggnog was this mysterious milky substance that was seasonal and only appreciated by Cousin Eddie. It was a simple and innocent existence, but I didn’t know that I was actually missing out on something.
By the time I was old enough to make educated decisions on my own, I made a horrible one. On my way home from getting my wisdom teeth removed, I thought it would be a good idea to get an eggnog shake from McDonalds. I ate it with a spoon in the dark car and I couldn’t taste anything, as the anesthetic hadn’t worn off. So I still had no clue what eggnog tasted like. But when I got home, I came to the horrifying realization that the eggnog was not the white color I expected. Instead, it was a sickly pink slurry, reminiscent to mechanically separated chicken [which I had just recently looked up]. This was because, you guessed it, my mouth was full of blood. So for 5 years, my only mental association with eggnog was drinking my own blood. Somehow more gross than an egg-based bev.
Years passed. Seasons changed. I didn’t. It wasn’t until one fateful Fall day when my store got a special package in the mail. My boss gave it to me, as it was clearly an unwanted sample and I was a broke cashier, willing to eat or drink anything. Inside the box was a can of eggnog. While many would find it disturbing or suspect, I was fascinated.
My rule of thumb was that if a bev was good enough to come in a can, it was good enough for me to try. This is still a generally good rule. If a bev is in a can, I’m gonna like it no questions asked. A bev in a can is like a movie in the Criterion Collection. It’s definitely there for a reason and I’m going to enjoy it. Surely, eggnog must be amazing if they bothered to can it.
That logic changed my life forever.
As soon as the sweet, sweet nog touched my lips, I was hooked. It even rekindled my love affair with bourbon. I went from claiming to be too broke to buy anything that wasn’t Coors Banquet to knocking back pints of Old Grandad with some nog. Overnight, I was a full blown Nogger. My friends sat back and watched as I became a monster. From October to January, all I could think about was nog. I’d go all the way to Whole Foods to buy the chronic shit. I’d constantly harass my dairy buyer to get nog brought in on opening day, claiming I would drink the whole case. And I would try my best to do so.
As the years piled on, so did the pounds. My larger, out of shape body just couldn’t handle things like it used to. In my 6th year of nogging, I kicked off the season with drinking two hearty glasses. When I went to bed, something didn’t feel right. I was lightheaded and my heart was racing. I thought I was going to die, right then and there, in my twin sized bed. Obviously, I didn’t, and the nog went down the drain immediately.
This basically summarizes the experience:
My heart was strained and broken. I could no longer be a Nogger. For a couple of years after that, I would keep trying it. I didn’t want to give up on the dream. But they always had the same heart pounding results. Truth be told, nog is just not good for you. If your body isn’t fit for it, you might have a bad time. And anything with bourbon shouldn’t make you feel that way.
So here I am, right smack in the middle of a joyless Nog Season again. I’ve considered trying non-dairy substitutes, but I just don’t have the guts. If anything, it might just make me more sad. I had a good run, but I can’t keep fooling myself. So I implore you, if you have the ability to drink eggnog without going into cardiac arrest, do so. Have a tall, frosty, boozy glass on me. Just send an invoice. Because the bev is too damn good to be ignored.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go drink water while staring at eggnog, trying to trick myself into satisfaction.