Action Figures & Their Boozes -- Pavane for a Deceased Taste Bud

by Beedo Sookcool
on 2021-11-22, 12:54:36

Don't look behind Door Number Two, Monty! It's time to play "End of the Line, My Valentine"! Geroni-do-ron-ron-roniMO-O-O-O-O!

Oh, yes. We're going to the Planet of Junk today, folks. So stay tuned and don't touch that dial, The Transformers will return after these important messages . . . !

While out shopping for alcohol some months back, my wife and I saw this GORGEOUS Pavan bottle -- fading from clear at the top to rich tropical-sea blue at the bottom, embellished with gold, cream, blue, and black Art Deco and Art Nouveau motifs, containing pale yellow liquor -- and on that merit alone, we thought we should give it a try. French liquor in a beautiful, stylish bottle? Should be pretty good, right?

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Apparently, I learned nothing from my struggles with Suze.

You see, my friend and former co-worker Susie -- who has helped with these articles on several occasions by pointing me in the direction of new beverages to try -- went to France on a holiday many years ago and bought a swanky bottle of French gentian-and-herb liqueur called "Suze," mainly for the name connection. This is what the nifty retro-style bottle looks like:

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And that bottle hung around untouched for ages, because the stuff is disgusting.

Do you remember that smell you got when you were a child, and you kicked open a large pile of damp lawnmower clippings that had been slowly fermenting in the hot summer sun for a week or so? That sickly-sweet, vomitous, silagey, rotting-on-the-ground stench that turned your stomach? Okay, take THAT, and throw in notes of overripe bananas, decaying apple mulch, and a soggy pile of autumn bonfire leaves that smouldered and smoked blackly for a bit then went out because they were too damp to burn. Then drink it. That's Suze. It's what is known as an "acquired taste," which is Snob shorthand for "Tastes absolutely revolting, but we're going to drink it in front of the Poors and mock them as ignorant for not liking it, for sneering is the only satsifaction we get in life, because we're dead inside. And so are our taste-buds, now."

At one point, Susie lent me the bottle to see if I could come up with any cocktail recipes that would make her namesake liqueur palatable. I lost track of how long I kept it, experimenting, but I only came up with four recipes, none of which are amazingly delicious, merely a way of making the Suze palatable if you don't want to waste it all on a drain-pour.

That painfully protracted tangent is a very long-winded and roundabout way of building up to saying that I have tried similar experiments with Pavan, to try to get delicious cocktails out of it -- and after more than six months since I started trying, I still haven't hit upon anything tasty. I've tried recipes I've found online, I've tried mixing my own, and nothing so far has worked.

Now, Pavan is a liqueur made with muscat grapes and orange blossoms . . . which sounds amazing in theory, but in practice, it tastes like a mixture of really bad, cheap, diet concord grape soda (flat), Dimetapp, and crushed-up orange Flintstones Chewables. In rubbing alcohol. It starts out sweet and promising, with a soft grape flavour and a hint of orange blossom honey, and then The Aftertaste lurches forth to shove its massive fist down your throat, rip your gullet out, and beat you to death with the tonsil end. Think of the nastiest, bitterest, dustiest-tasting concord grape thing you've ever tried, and then add perfume to it. That's The Aftertaste you get with Pavan.

The back label of this "delicate and complex" [Author's Note: Pffft! HA!] 18% ABV liqueur says: "Refreshing with sparkling water or alone on ice, PavanĀ® is also perfect with vodka or gin."

No. No, it most assuredly is not.

Which is why I've paried this noxious brew with the two versions of the Junkion leader, Wreck-Gar, that I happen to have with me: Studio Series '86 (which is excellent) and Power of the Primes (which isn't very good as a Wreck-Gar figure, but makes a decent background random Junkion in either robot, motorcycle, or Combiner limb mode). Pavan is a liquid wreck, barely-drinkable garbage. At least Wreck-Gar and the Junkions are highly amusing, in all their iterations. This drink, not so much.

The back label starts off by saying that Pavan is "Named after the 16th Century dance of the peacock," (the pavane) and the name is indeed derived from Pavo, which is the genus name for peafowl. Not only that, "pavo" is another term for a medieval spinning combat-training device, also known as a quintain. (And if you've ever owned or played with a Castle Grayskull, you know exactly what I'm talking about.) Also, in keeping with the impending Thanksgiving holidays, the scientific name of the North American wild turkey is Meleagris gallopavo, which means "chicken-peacock guinea fowl." And finally, it seems that the more a French alcoholic drink tries to rope you in with stylish bottle designs and flowery prose on its label implying a long history of refinement and class, the worse the contents of the bottle are actually going to taste.

There. I think that fills the minimum government requirement for educational content. Happy Thanksgiving 2021, everyone! Gobble, gobble, gobble!

Drink this if you also like: "Great-tasting" children's medicines, masochism, giving horrible things to other people to try and watching their faces scrunch up in an effort to suppress the gag reflex.

Actually, you know what? Just don't drink this. Ever.

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BONUS CONTENT! Fun and romps with the Junkions and "Weird Al" Yankovic:





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