GR North: Cossack Vodka (w/ Tyler Lee-Moore)

Greetings from Gutrotter North Office, based out of sunny Someverville MA, just south of the Cambridge municipal border. And boy do we have a winner for you tonight: Cossack vodka, distilled right here in Somerville and costing only ten dollars for a full liter (and liquor is expensive here, since the state doesn't own the business).

WRONG AGAIN, ANDY.

This is something that you probably can't even find outside of the Boston area-- and I really doubt you'd want to try. So let's dive right into this Cossack.

LOOK
 I can't say much about the way vodka looks. I only put this section in because of my near-autistic devotion to pattern.

That said, my good buddy Tyler points out that it doesn't move the way vodka (or fucking anything) should-- it's not that cold but it still sloshes around a little too thickly, too syrupy. Like an alien imitation of real vodka. Come from way out beyond the stars.

To kill us kill us KILL US WHERE WE STAND / they'll store our livers in Mason Jars.

Also, there's a little Cossack on the bottleneck. (And can I say that honestly, given Western views of vodka, it's a little weird to name it after a society that was at times fairly anti-Russian and usually anti-Soviet? And that one time, pro-Nazi? [gutrotter.blogspot.com: the thinking man's poison reviewer])

Oh also, on a very much related note, since our women have left us to ourselves, I'm drinking mine with heart-shaped ice cubes.

NOSE
Not much of one honestly. If you jam your nose down in your tumbler (we are drinking out of Irish crystal tumblers because we are gentlemen) you can smell the usual burn and diesel fumes, but it's really not much worse than some good vodkas. Still worse though.

The little heart-shaped ice cubes are melting.

Trotskii is Sadskii.

Hey, you know what smells good? The Flying Dog Raging Bitch I'm using as a chaser. WHICH I JUST OPENED WITH A HUNTING KNIFE. WE DON'T NEED WOMEN ROUND HERE.

(Tomorrow on Gutrotter North: Tyler and Jasper exploit their Massachusetts location and get married).

To find my "wooden leg"

TASTE (STRAIGHT) (UNLIKE US. ANYMORE.)
Alcohol and water.

There's this weird sweaty syrupiness to it though. Tyler compares it to vodka sipped from a leather boot, whereas I compare it to horse. So I guess it's true enough to the name. Truer than the Cossacks were to any political power (LEARN, dammit! Otherwise I lose government funding. I'm technically listed under edutainment, I just can't afford a .org address). Tyler and I are preeeetty... sure that the issue here arises from distillation: the thickness, weird sugary taste and vaguely dehydrating burn all point to this only being once-distilled alcohol with a lot of grain and poison lurking around. There is just so much more awful hidden in this bottle than there chemically should be. THANKS BOSTON.

YAH WELCOME, JAHSPAH.

TASTE (MIXED)
First off, being that we are in the Northeast and also what, on your fucking period? we mixed it with cranberry juice.

Tune in next week, when we just transcribe all of The Departed.

Yeah, it pretty much just tastes like cranberry juice. We need to reinforce this: it's not the worst, but it is fucking boring. Like Tyler. A boring fuck. There's no flavor beyond the flavor of pure alcohol, which, despite what you might guess, is not a flavor I like. There's a bit of that leather and a bit of burn at the back of the throat, but I guess if you cut it with juice it goes down smooth enough. It's not Riva bad, but what is? Like King Cobra was to beer, this is to vodka: the way a child imagines it would taste.

(Update: Raging Bitch still delicious).

Vodka tonic is yeah, pretty much what you'd expect. It tastes like tonic water and lime juice. And some poison. (Alcohol is technically classified as a poison, making my therapist technically correct-- The best kind of correct!). I guess if you wanna buy cheap-ass vodka and celebrate your neighborhood, whatever, go for Cossack. It's probably the best cheap vodka I've reviewed, but it's still not good or really worth drinking. Just make weak cockatails, drink 'em like soda, and, I don't know, get gay-married or something. Worked for us.

"On the day that I forget you / I hope my heart explodes."