Jonah’s tirescrunched over pea gravel as we pulled up to the Galliger distillery. After getting a late start because I struggled not to pack everything in my apartment and then getting turned around twice thanks to faulty GPS instructions and no cell service, we’d finally managed to find what we were looking for.
I knew Galliger was based out of Wentworth, but in real life, it was a loose connection. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. And apparently, they didn’t build cell phone towers this far off the grid.
Jonah and I both breathed a sigh of relief when the lights of the distillery came into view. We followed a winding drive lined with trees and landscape lighting until we found the main building.
It was still uncomfortably chilly outside at the beginning of February, but the warm glow of string lights over a curated courtyard was enchanting. Jonah parked his car at the end of a line of other cars, and we hurried toward the open industrial-style door that was more rust than metal. The place was hopping, and I sucked in a breath of relief that the event was legit. We’d blend into the crowd. And we could avoid the dark corners and quiet rooms where real couples liked to hang out.
The whole building looked like it had seen a few things in its day. It was an interconnected building, like a small village of repurposed warehouses. While the outside looked close to collapse, the inside was vibrantly remodeled and inviting.
The brick walls looked freshly painted white in some places and left to their natural color in others. Impressive pieces of modern art hung on the walls, bringing the space to life. And where there wasn’t art, large windows paned in dainty black boxes let in the glowy light from outside. The single-story cluster of square buildings was connected with iron archways. The doors were all the same, old industrial and rust-covered, yet it was all so aesthetically pleasing.
I didn’t have a lot of love for Galliger, but this property made me want to root for them. It would have been a shame to shut this place down, I now realized. It somehow reminded me of an old monastery turned modern or a steampunk headquarters that also made vodka. It walked the line of industrial and vintage and modern as well as I’d ever seen it done.
We stepped inside, and the warmth of the indoors washed over me. I’d worn high-waisted boyfriend jeans ripped all down the front and a low-cut, cream ruffly crop top that only showed a sliver of skin because my jeans were so high. But the real showstopper was my real-deal cowboy boots. I’d ordered them on impulse from one of my favorite online boutiques and spent the past year breaking them in. They were finally perfect, so I wore them every chance I got.
I’d paired them with big feather earrings and a lot of bangles. I felt amazing.
Jonah’s hand landed on my lower back as he ushered me toward the check-in table. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it in any other circumstance, but it felt too good tonight to push away. It was steady when I was nothing but nerves and jitters. And I wasn’t sure why.
Jonah checked us in, apologized for his last-minute plus-one, and grabbed name tags for us both. The Galliger employee welcomed us and waved off his apology. “We’re just glad you could make it,” she said to him. “Drinks are through there. Here’s a QR code to take an anonymous survey at the end of the night. Or the morning. Depending on how much you enjoy our new and improved spirits.”
“Do you have drink tickets?” he asked her before we joined the party.
She shook her head. “Nope, just the survey.”
“Thanks,” he murmured.
The party itself was everything I could have asked for. It was so worth leaving the bar and getting dressed up for. There were tables all around the room with bartenders behind them. Apparently, when Galliger had revamped its vodka recipe, they’d gone all out. Each table was covered in bottles of vodka, differentiated by their color. The floral blush bottle with pops of green was raspberry lime. The bottle with two kinds of green abstract shapes: basil and cucumber. Jonah had told me on the way up that their original line of infused vodka represented one solid flavor or flavor profile—s’mores or peach, for instance—but this time, Galliger was attempting to mingle two strong flavor profiles together to make a more complete cocktail. It was a fantastic idea in theory. TBD on how it actually tasted.
I tugged Jonah toward a table boasting orange and cardamom. “This looks good,” I told him.
His low chuckle followed after me. “Whatever you say.”
We hadn’t eaten supper yet. Or at least, I hadn’t because I’d gotten us on the road so late. My stomach growled in warning at all the booze littering the room, a safety precaution reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything today except a protein bar at lunch. But I didn’t see food in this room. I was sure there probably was food somewhere. But this was just vodka. And I was here for it.
The bartender mixing drinks smiled at us as we walked up to the table. He reached for the bottle and waved it back and forth with flair. “Hey there,” he said with a toothy grin. “How are y’all doing tonight?”
“Good,” we said in unison, surveying all he offered.
“Well, this one here is a mix of cardamom and blood oranges. It has a very bold taste but mixes smoothly. I’m serving it tonight in any of three ways. As a traditional vodka soda, with Sprite, if you prefer it a little sweeter and fizzier. Or the skinny version with an orange Perrier.”
“I’ll do the orange Perrier,” I told him, wondering if I would be disappointed. I loved a good vodka soda, but he’d sold me on the “skinny” version.
“And I’ll do the vodka soda,” Jonah chimed in.
“Excellent choices,” he encouraged us.
It only took him a couple minutes to pour our drinks into airline-sized beverage cups and add a dried orange as the garnish. We asked for directions to the food room and chatted about how great this place was. He told us to go straight to the shrimp toast table and skip the ceviche because it was sketchy.
I took a sip of the cocktail and tried not to wince. The flavor was audacious, but I would probably be back for seconds because this guy was a wealth of information.
Jonah and I wandered off, and I immediately reached for his drink. “Sorry, I just need to try it with a different mixer.”
“Wait, what?”
I smiled up at him. “Please?”
“Is yours bad?”
