New Scientist - USA (2019-12-21)

(Antfer) #1

64 | New Scientist | 21/28 December 2019


Stephanie Pain is a
freelance writer based in
Brighton, UK. She says
make hers a double

Adding bicarbonate of soda helped dissolve
more CO2, creating the first soda water, which
was soon available at all good pharmacies.
All that remained to create tonic water was
the addition of quinine. With its reputation
as a wonder drug, it had already found its way
into all sorts of quack remedies and “tonics”,
drinks touted as treatments for everything
from dysentery to smallpox, toothache to
baldness, and as all-purpose restoratives.
In Victorian times, tonic wines were the thing:
the wine helped mask the bitter taste. They
were suspiciously popular. Doctors feared
they were a front for tippling and could
lead to alcoholism. What better, then,
than a pick-me-up without the alcohol?
In 1835, Hughes & Co, purveyors of
“celebrated quinine pills”, corn plasters
and French embrocation, advertised a new
product: quinine soda water. It sank without
trace. But in 1858, Erasmus Bond had more
success, possibly thanks to a better choice
of name: Pitt’s patent aerated tonic water.
There it was: the word “tonic”, with its beguiling

promise of better health. Other brands
followed and although initially recommended
as an aid to digestion, tonic water rapidly
became known as a wholesome, refreshing
drink. People, especially those in hot climates,
quaffed it in quantity because they liked it.
Some found it went rather well with a drop
of gin (see “A very English cocktail”, left).
Tonic water is still inextricably linked to gin.
When gin fell out of favour in the 1960s, sales
of tonic plummeted. The reinvention of
artisanal gin in the 21st century was quickly
followed by the reinvention of its other half,
with a new breed of flavoured tonic waters
emerging. “And there’s a move away from
alcohol,” says Nesbitt. “Tonic water is a great
drink in itself. In fact, tonic without the gin
is the original, historical drink.”  ❚

“ With its reputation as a wonder


drug, quinine made its way into


all sorts of quack remedies”


Demand for
quinine soared
in the mid-19th
century when it
was found to
stave off malaria
as well as cure it

Who first put gin in their tonic?
Or was it tonic in their gin? All the
evidence places this momentous
event in India while it was under
British rule, says botanist Mark
Nesbitt at London’s Kew Gardens.
“It was certainly being drunk there
by the 1860s.”
Conventional wisdom has it
that Brits in India sipped their daily
G&T (or two) to protect themselves
from malaria. If so, either their
tonic water contained about
10 times as much quinine as
today’s – making it undrinkably
bitter – or people drank gallons
of the stuff. Even then, protection
would be slight and fleeting. Let’s
face it, in the heat and dust of
India, a delicious and refreshing
cocktail was exactly that: a
pleasant drink.
So when did G&T become the
quintessential English cocktail?
The usual story has it that people
returning to the UK after India’s
independence in 1947 created
huge demand for their favourite
tipple, starting a trend.
Not true, says Nesbitt. He and
fellow Kew botanist Kim Walker
found earlier records in newspaper
reports of drink-driving from the
1920s. “They named the drink
and even how many had been
drunk,” says Nesbitt. Digging
further back, they drew a blank.
Cocktails were popular by the
late 19th century, but G&T
doesn’t appear in early bar lists or
mixologists’ instruction manuals.
“The crucial period seems to be
between 1880 and 1920,” says
Nesbitt. “But precisely when – and
why? That’s still very mysterious.”

A very English
cocktail

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