Once upon a time, there was a nuclear reactor in England that was air cooled like a 60′s Volkswagen Beetle, called Windscale. It worked about as well as the average 60′s Beetle too. One day, oops, the fuel and graphite moderator caught on fire. Who’d’ve thunk it, that dry graphite being pure carbon would burn readily…amazing! After this happened, this region of England was told not to drink milk for a good long while, about a month, but the terror stuck depressing dairy for years.
In order to get vital calcium and vitamins to children in the Cumbria area, a fortified version of the beverage called Ribena was created for use in the schools. If you are not British, you can be forgiven for having never heard of this demon nectar because your government didn’t have to find a way to prevent scurvy for an entire nation during WWII. I find it less palatable than Manischewitz as, to me, black currants ≠ food. About seven years ago, they finally demolished the Windscale reactors, which had long since renamed Sellafield to help with the public relations problems.
But, I came up with a drink and consumed it so that YOU DON’T HAVE TO, just like the my friend Ben “Benchilada” Stone eats the collective culinary errors of Asia. Much like Jesus died for your sins, I created two variants of a cocktail I call “The Windscale” and drank them for you. I don’t recommend consuming either of them.
Windscale Reactor One:
Equal parts Ribena and gin (for a double dose of British fluids)
Stir, chill, and serve.
Windscale Reactor Two:
Two parts Ribena
One part green chartreuse (for that concerning “plutonium in solution” look)
Shake in a tumbler with ice and serve.
VERDICT: Stomping on a week old corpse probably makes liquids this color…possibly this flavor.
I was not willing to waste precious absinthe to create a Windscale Reactor Three after the results of the previous two. The remaining Ribena was safely disposed of down the drain. If magic worked, I would inscribe a Ward vs. Ribena on the door to prevent it from entering my house again.