Love Letter to the G&T

My Dear Gin and Tonic,

You weren’t my first summer fling—no, that honor belongs to White Grape Malt Duck—but you were the one that stuck. The one I keep coming back to when the temperature rises and my tolerance for heat and humidity plummets.

Friends of yours try every summer to win me over with their trendy smoked rims or muddled herbs. But they don’t impress me. Admittedly, I’ve occasionally given into temptation. Remember Tom Collins and Gin Rickey? They were fun, but they didn’t hit the spot quite like you. You’re equal parts refreshment and rebellion, elegant and a little dangerous. You’re the classic Paul Newman and the contemporary Matt Bomer of cocktails. Like a crisp white polo shirt or a Cartier tank watch, you’re impossible to resist.

But you’re not just a pretty face in a cold glass. You’ve got a past, too, and Lord do I admire that. Born of necessity and empire, you were the stiff upper lip in the face of tropical despair. Picture it: British officers in sun-soaked India, drenched in sweat and existential dread, forced to swallow bitter quinine powder to ward off malaria. Until someone, clearly a genius and possibly a hedonist, thought to sweeten the deal. A splash of soda. A twist of citrus. And then eau du juniper berry.

Thus, the gin and tonic—the G&T as your devotees like to call you—was born part health elixir, part cocktail party, part suggestive wink across the veranda. A drink designed to kill parasites and awaken appetites. Two birds, one glass. Suddenly, everything’s a little looser and a tad more prone to saying, “Shall we go somewhere private?” You’ve always had that effect. Straddling the line between remedy and temptation, you’re not just a cocktail. You’re foreplay in a glass.

And like any good relationship, ours has evolved. Let’s talk first about your spirit: Gin. That bitter, medicinal edge has been tamed. Though admittedly I still admire it in small doses, like sarcasm from someone wearing linen. Once relegated to dusty bar shelves, you’ve regained your sophistication. Whether you come from London or a Brooklyn distillery run by a hipster named Sage who forages his own botanicals, you always bring your A-game. Juniper berry is your soul, but your personality? Limitless.

And let’s not forget your other half: tonic. Long a dependable mixer, tonic water has recently had some work done. It’s hard to reimagine the classic, but newer brands have dialed up the quinine, refined the botanicals, and delivered bubbles that sparkle instead of sputter.

Together, you two are magic. A cold G&T is summer in a glass. The kind of drink that makes you believe you’re on a yacht off Capri even if you’re just standing in your Sperry topsiders on the deck at Aqua. Unlike many modern craft cocktails, you don’t require elaborate rituals. Just a tall glass with plenty of ice. Two ounces (or more) of gin. A solid pour of tonic.  And a wedge of lime. Or any citrus. Yours truly prefers lemon. But a cucumber? I’m not a fan.

Oh, mon grand, we’ve had some great times, you and I over the years. Sunny countryside steeplechases in pink and green. Sultry evenings on the porch where the crickets scored our witty banter. Cocktail croquet parties. Afternoons on Poodle Beach when I snuck you into a plastic tumbler and pretended it was seltzer. And, yes, one regrettable evening after a Barrister’s Ball—but we don’t talk about that. As Humphrey Bogart once said: “A man’s got to know his limitations, and one of those is not to drink too many gin and tonics.”

I love that you’re versatile. A G&T at 5 p.m. is elegant. At noon, continental. At 10 a.m.? Bold. Possibly concerning. But still refreshing.

You’re the great social equalizer, too—just as at home at a summer garden soirée in your seersucker and white bucks as at a football tailgate wearing a jersey and face paint. You say, “I appreciate refinement,” but also, “I brought the bug spray and the red Solo cups.”

Most of all, you’re dependable. So, thank you dear G&T. For your balance. Your bite. Your bubbly personality. In closing, I’d like to offer a toast. As the temperature rises and decorum falls, may your gin be strong, your tonic fizzy, and your lime wedges plump and plentiful. Here’s to staying hydrated...ish.

Forever yours,

A Devoted Tippler