“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
Episode 28 Notes:
The horrific stories of two tidal waves that destroyed cities and caused the gruesome deaths of many. Two different countries. Two different ways to handle the tidal waves. Two different outcomes. One very big lesson.
Transcript of Podcast:
*This is the entire podcast episode in written form. Do not read if you want the audio version to be spoiled.
It was October 17th. 4:13 in the afternoon. Mary and her four year old daughter Hannah were drinking tea when the Tsunami hit and washed them away, killing Hannah instantly. The fifteen foot tall tidal wave crashed through the city and pulled with it all the ground clutter it could find.
It had been building since morning. The wooden wall that was banded with long strips of steel had given way under the pressure. It all started when one strip gave way. While it was reported it was not fixed. It was not fixed because one strip gave way three to four times a year without an issue.
The engineers intended to fix it. They would get around to it. But, when such a thing had happened in the past, it had never impacted the integrity of the wall. This time was different. The wall was compromised. With a mechanical groaning the wall gave way. The remaining strips of steel snapped. The flood came and poured into the land around it.
This was the slums and there was a lot to sweep away. Cheap houses. Apartments jam packed with the poor, the destitute, criminals and prostitutes. The land was flat and there was no natural runout for the tidal wave. So, it went into the low points, flooding the basements of houses and forcing people to climb into their furniture to avoid drowning.
It was a fast moving wave. Unexpected.
The tidal wave washed through the house Mary and her daughter were in, bringing with it all of the debris. It arrived with such force that it took out the foundation of the building. The building groaned. The building bucked. The building collapsed. Crushing and killing Hannah. Mary was swept into the street and miraculously survived.
The house next to that one suffered a similar fate, but the people inside were not as lucky. There were five people gathered for the wake of a two year old boy who had died. When the basement was flooded and the foundation collapsed on their heads, they were all killed.
The death toll stood at six. Including three children under the age of five.
The tidal wave didn’t stop. It was too strong. Moving too fast. It plowed into the side of a restaurant and brought the wall down on the head of a fourteen year old girl washing dishes inside. She was crushed and killed.
The 8th death, another child, would be found when the tidal wave finally subsided. She was washed out of her house, drowned and found in a neighboring house.
Eight dead in a matter of minutes. Five under the age of 18 and four of those five under the age of 5. Hundred more left without houses. Millions of dollars in damages.
This reminds me of another similar disaster. This one took place years later and involved another tidal wave. The engineers had long warned of increased protection measures. But, they were routinely turned away. No issues had happened prior so why should they happen now?
The steel wall would hold, even if it did leak a little. The leaking was not a serious problem with the wall. Neither were the rumbles and the creaks of the wall fighting the pressure it held back. The people in town had gotten so used to the sounds of the struggle that they didn’t pay them any attention anymore. But, then with a loud bang the tearing and creaking of steel filled the air. The wall gave way. The wall couldn’t hold anymore. The wall, let loose its wave.
And this wave rolled through the city on January 15 at 12:30 pm. It brought 40 foot tall waves. It moved at 35 mph and flowed with such force that it bent steal train tracks. It set chunks of metal flying through the air like missiles and impaled them into surrounding brick buildings.
It picked up train cars and used them as weapons to kill people.
It took out buildings at their foundations and washed them away whole. Like it did to Engine 31 Firehouse. Just picked the two story building up. Flipped it. Crushed it. Trapped the firefighters inside. Most survived, but it took hours for rescuers to cut out the floor boards and pick through the rubble to find the buried firefighters. All survived but one.
The wave didn’t stop there though. The house next to the fire station was swept away and shoved violently into an elevated train platform, where it exploded into pieces. The wave was a dirty mess. It covered everyone it washed over. You couldn’t tell human from animal. It suffocated people. It cut a several block wide path of destruction through the city. Rescuers spent four days scouring the wreckage looking for survivors. Some were so badly mutilated that they couldn’t be recognized. When all was said and done, 150 people were injured. Another 21 were killed. Two of the dead were children. Age 10. All the rest adults.
What came next in both of these instances was the same. Outrage. Anger driven by sorrow. Anger driven by loss. Anger driven by destruction. Anger, that needed an outlet.
Surely this had been someone’s fault. Surely someone had failed to prepare. Surely, someone had failed to keep them safe. Had they?
Had those responsible for keeping the tidal waves back failed to do their jobs?
What’s most interesting about this story is how the aftermath highlights the cultural difference between two places.
One of these tidal waves happened in the UK.
The other in the United States.
In the UK the judges were sent out to assess the situation. They looked at the walls that had failed to hold back the wave. They listened to engineers who were entrusted with securing those walls. They saw the bodies of the dead. They walked the streets of destruction that had destroyed and damaged all those slum houses and apartments.
Then they decided that the engineers were not guilty. They found no fault. This was an act of God, they said. Normal and expected human precautions had been taken. No money was paid to the families of the dead.
Funeral expenses had already been paid for. The dead had been laid out and donations were raised for burial costs. The people came together over the tragedy in their slums and helped out their neighbors.
In the United States this tidal wave in Boston was very different. The case for neglect piled in, just like they had in the UK. 119 lawsuits were filed. Over a thousand witnesses testified. Over 1,500 exhibits were produced. The case took almost 5 years to resolve. It was a formal legal matter.
Very orderly. There were no site visits. No visitations of the dead. There was a judge. In a court room. And page after page of detailed documents drafted by high priced lawyers. There were expert witnesses on both sides saying this and saying that. The closing arguments took 11 weeks.
And in the end the engineers were found guilty. They paid $8 million in damages to the families of the dead.
But, these floods both had larger consequences. They created immediate change.
They learned from the mistakes. They adapted. They created new laws. New regulations. They made things safer so that any future walls would be constructed stronger. In the UK they put forth a requirement of using concrete to further solidify any future walls.
In the US they required architects and civil engineers be part of the work moving forward. They tightened requirements for what the walls had to include in order to be structurally sound. Required tests. Made an inspection checklist.
Change was made. Change that would become the basis for modern walls of this sort today.
What I find most interesting is the response by both countries to these disasters. In the UK mostly kids were killed. The walls construction was shoddy. But, no one was held accountable. In fact, the judges determined that the engineers should actually be paid to help rebuild the wall.
Was this because the slums were affected? Were people more desensitized to death back then, especially the death of children? And the decision on guilt and next steps was made fast, after a brief walk through the disaster zone.
In the United States, they brought out lawyers and spent money fighting for this and fighting for that. They spent five years defending the rights of both parties and ensuring a fair, just trial. Justice is an inefficient process in the hands of those with money. They got clinical about everything. Drafting words of paper. Witnesses. Courtrooms. They took the death out of the streets. Away from the twisted steel. They lessened it instead of living in it.
Then there are the people that died. In both instances I can think of worse ways to die. And, actually the death from the flood in the UK, in London, might be one of my preferred ways to die.
You see, the tidal wave that was unleashed was about 300,000 gallons of liquid.
Of beer.
Which busted out of the wooden vat walls that were wrapped in long, steel bands. When it exploded it took out another two vats of beer with it. Then it sent this 15 foot tall tidal wave of beer through the town. A tidal wave of porter beer. And, as they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
And I would have been stronger, and drunker, from wallowing in the flood of porter beer that lingered in town for the days to follow.
As for the tidal wave in the United States, in Boston, Massachusetts… well, now that would be horrific.
Perhaps it was this difference in tidal waves that also determined the different outcomes in the trial proceedings.
You see, in Boston the tidal wave was molasses. Molasses that was used for the production of rum.
A metal vat built three years prior had been creaking and groaning from day one until an explosion, likely carbon dioxide build up, destroyed the vat and brought 2.3 million gallons of hot, sticky molasses flooding through the streets in the North End of Boston.
Molasses has 40% great mass than water.
That means it moves faster. Hits harder. Does more damage. It can twist metal. Pick up houses and buildings whole and wash them away.
And it sticks to you, like it stuck to the horses and humans that it covered. Suffocating them. Or killing them through sticky exhaustion.
It took 300 people weeks to clean up the mess, using salt water guns and sand to push all the molasses into the Boston Harbor.
It lingered there for months.
The sweet smell for much longer. And, even after it looked like it had all been cleaned up. On hot days. The sweet smell of molasses would fill the air.
These were two of the early industrialized alcohol production mistakes.
Death by a flood of Porter beer.
Death by rum molasses.
The London Beer Food of 1814
And
The Great Molasses Flood of 1919
Two very terrible, but also very influential floods on the pathway of modern alcohol production.
You’re here for a white sangria cocktail recipe, so let’s get it. This recipe is modeled after our popular Santeria Sangria, which is a blend between traditional, Spanish sangria and a refreshing, unique Boozn Sam’s take in the form of floral notes that balance out the sweet fruit flavors.
Ingredients:
A bottle of Pinot Grigio
1/4 cup Elderflower liqueur
1/2 cup Grand Marnier
1 medium sized orange, sliced
1/2 pint of fresh raspberries
1/2 pint of strawberries, sliced
1 lemon, sliced thin
Fresh Mint
Ice cubes
Assembly
Slice your fruit. All of it. Large chunks will do. Put in a large pitcher.
Add your bottle of wine
Add your liquor. Note, the liquor adds tastes and fortifies. You can make this without extra liquor. Add another orange and a full pint of strawberries.
Let sit for an hour (overnight is better.)
Grab the glass of your choosing. Fill the glass half full with ice. Add your sangria.
Garnish with your fresh mint.
Enjoy.
The Extended Version for making a White Sangria Cocktail Recipe
n this blog post, we’ll be sharing a sensational Orange White Sangria Cocktail recipe that will elevate your summer gatherings to new heights. Bursting with citrusy flavors and infused with the essence of the season, this cocktail is guaranteed to be a hit at any soirée. So, let’s embark on a journey to cocktail perfection and delight in the flavors of summer.
Sangria is best served chilled, allowing the flavors to meld together and develop over time. Many recipes recommend refrigerating the sangria for several hours or even overnight before serving to achieve the optimal flavor profile.
One of the great things about sangria is its versatility. You can customize it to suit your taste preferences and the ingredients you have on hand. Experiment with different fruits, wines, spirits, and sweeteners to create your own signature sangria masterpiece.
Ingredients:
A bottle of Pinot Grigio
1/4 cup Elderflower liqueur
1/2 cup Grand Marnier
1 medium sized orange, sliced
1/2 pint of fresh raspberries
1/2 pint of strawberries, sliced
1 lemon, sliced thin
Fresh Mint
Ice cubes
Assembly
Slice your fruit. All of it. Large chunks will do. Put in a large pitcher.
Add your bottle of wine
Add your liquor. Note, the liquor adds tastes and fortifies. You can make this without extra liquor. Add another orange and a full pint of strawberries.
Let sit for an hour (overnight is better.)
Grab the glass of your choosing. Fill the glass half full with ice. Add your sangria.
Garnish with your fresh mint.
Enjoy.
Final Notes:
The longer you let your white sangria cocktail recipe sit the stronger the flavors will infuse and the more intense your sangria will be. I like to let my drinks meld overnight. If you’re short on time, and want to skip the hassle of buying all the ingredients, buy the kit. Many of the ingredients are organic, and, since they are dried ingredients, they are more potent. You can get a great sangria in 10 minutes!
“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks (Jelly Roll in this episode) that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
Episode 27 Notes:
In the beginning there was the word, and the word was all Jason had, because everything, including his drink of choice, was taken away. But, the word, was all he needed. The emotional, and heart wrenching story of a man who realized that the only way to survive was to save himself. In doing so, he saved the rest of us too.
Transcript of Podcast Episode:
*This is the entire podcast episode in written form. Do not read if you want the audio version to be spoiled.
In the beginning there was the word. And the word was all Jason had. He thought about that as he looked at the cage beyond his cage and the man in the middle of it. The man named Craig who was bound to that small space, unable to escape. It reminded him of all the cages he’d spent time in. More than forty of them over the years. Cages of all sorts.
And the tears came to his eyes as the past flowed back to him. He was determined to never return to those cages again. Right now, this room was windowless. Just like the windowless room he once spent six months in. The air here wasn’t much better either. It was stifling and hot. The smell was a bit better. But, not much could be worse than that other smell. It was a smell he could never forget, despite how hard he tried.
Back then, the solitude could do nothing to kill the words in his head, even if it could kill his spirit. And that’s what the cage was meant to do. Kill his spirit. It was a room of brick from floor to ceiling. He was given no contact with others. It was only Jason and the words in his head. For 23 hours a day. Every day. For six months.
He was young, but he felt old then. His first time in jail was at the age of 14. By 16 he was doing 8 for robbing someone. A big boy prison at that point. Not juvie. He’d been in and out of that for two years at this point, and the judge thought enough was enough. The judge thought this was how to punish a 16 year old boy, because he was still a boy. Not old enough yet to go to war. Not old enough to buy cigarettes or vote. Barely old enough to drive.
But, he was old enough to do 8 years in a prison capable of handing maximum security criminals. A maximum security facility has extra measures in place to prevent the convicted from harming others. It’s where those convicted or murder, treason, or kidnapping go.
And there was Jason. A 16 year old boy. Surely young enough for another form of reform, but he was told he wasn’t worth it. Told his life was nothing. And he believed it to. This was his life. This would always be his life.
He would be a drug dealer. A criminal. His friends would die around him on the streets. He’d mix his drink of choice with lines of coke. Someday he’d likely die on the streets.
And a system much larger than him had failed him. After all, he was a product of the environment. An environment that the US government was determined to eradicate with its war on drugs.
Only they lost the war. And no one speaks of that. The drugs poured in. We failed to educate. We pushed addiction groups to the basements of churches and gave them cheap coffee out of styrofoam cups because all our money was going to stopping crime and locking up people. We were lancing off the tumor, not healing the body from making the tumor in the first place.
We let the dollars win. Corrupt capitalism, baby. Isn’t it a great thing? We put our money in reactive, not proactive measures. And people like Jason are on the other side of the scope, wondering why the gun is aimed at them. Wondering what they did to deserve this. Wondering why they didn’t get a chance at the American Dream because of substance abuse and addiction. He needed someone to save him, and no one came.
Drugs destroy families. They hook mothers like Jasons’ and twist them up so much that they walk away from their families. Like Jason’s mother did. And, when addictions ruins their lives and drives them to the streets to commit crimes, they lock up the offenders. Brush them under the carpet before they’re legal adults.
Put them in a place with at 23/1 schedule. 23 hours of confinement. 1 hour outside the cage. And while the system might have failed Jason, like it failed many others, it couldn’t stop Jason.
So, Jason got out of the slammer at the age of 17, after one year, on probation. But, he found himself back in cuffs again. Dealing drugs was the only thing he knew. Dealing drugs gave him money. Dealing drugs was his profession. And his profession meant carrying a gun and doing things that were “just business…” in the business of selling drugs.
And they could take away his freedom. They could take away his drink of choice. But, they couldn’t take away the words in his head. There were always so many words. Words filled with depression. Words of addiction. Words looking for hope. Words that found no outlet but the expression inside his head.
And Jason was okay with that. Until everything changed. Jason was in his cell, like every other day. He nodded to the passing guard. The guard looked at him. The guard paused for a brief second.
“Hey, you had a kid today.” He said.
The news caught him off guard. “What?” He was gripping the bars of his cell now. His palms sweating.
“Yeh, yeh…you had a child.”
“Well, what’s her name?”
“Hell if I know.” Then the guard moved on.
Hell if I know. He was a father to a daughter he didn’t see born and he didn’t even know her name. He was 23 and determined, in that moment, to turn is life around. To make his life mean something more than drugs and violence and alcohol…even though he had no clue how and that was all he’d ever known.
He looked for help in the places people look when all the usual ways have failed. He took up the Bible. He took up the Koran. He read them because he wanted to be saved and he couldn’t count on the system to save him. The system was trying to kill him. The system was trying to make him into a product of it’s failed drug war and it’s focus on reacting to, not preventing, the problems that plagued so many.
Jason realized he needed to “take up his cross” if he was going to save his life. No one was going to do it for him. He would have to do it for himself. And perhaps he could use his words, the words that continually flowed out of him through all the years in prison.
He paid for some ink with a pack of cigarettes and marked himself with that reminder to take up his cross. Jason marked himself so he’d never forget that the responsibility to survive was his and no one was going to help him. No one was in his corner.
Everyone had abandoned him through their rules, and their policies, and their laws, which were meant to punish and not help. To hurt, not heal. A year went by and he was 24 now. He was up for probation again, and got out. When he walked out of that maximum security prison, he was determined to never end up there again. He wanted to be something other than a sinner.
It was years after his release now, but he remembered the first time he visited this cage. It was shortly after his release. He’d seen Craig in the cage, much like he was in the cage now. He’d heard Craig’s words and he’d cried because words can change lives, and Craig’s words changed his.
As he sat there and listened to the words of Craig, only a few feet away from him, he resolved to help others feel the way he was feeling now. To inspire others to feel something. To help them change their lives. Because words can change lives. He was living, breathing proof of that. And he would share that message with others through his words.
Like he had just done tonight, in that cage Craig was now standing in.
For 98 years this cage has changed the world in a different way. In ways filled with love, not fear and punishment. Through words. Through inspiration. Through music.
And when Craig beckoned Jason to join him in the cage he shared his story.
The story of coming there fresh out of prison, sitting in the seven row, and hearing Craig share the words in a piece he called “Almost Home.”
A piece that struck Jason to his core and lit in him the gift and motivation to change the world.
So, Jason joined Craig and they shared those words with those gathered. They shared their music. Because music can change lives. Like it had for Jason.
You see, Jason wrote hundreds of songs when he was in prison. The songs poured out of him. The words about his battle with depression and addiction. The words of a man coming from a broken family that never stood a chance because no one offered him a hand. The man that realized he would have to bear his own cross because no one was going to help him.
Now, the man that became a musical legend and reshaped our perspective for genres.
And he looked at Craig and they sang the final words together:
“Man I wish you’d just left me alone
I was almost home.”
Almost home is a song about an encounter between the narrator and a homeless man, who is dreaming about better times. Jason, spent most of his life dreaming about a way out. Dreaming about better times. Dreaming about the system doing more for him than punishing him. That’s why he cried that night, many years ago, when he was fresh out of prison and his life was a mess. That’s why this song, over a decade later, meant so much to perform.
Craig Morgan stepped away from his cage, the small wooden circle on the stage of the Grand Ole’ Opry, and returned moments later with a hand written, framed, and signed version of the song as a gift to Jason.
And Jason Deford, better known as Jelly Roll, for the second time tonight, cried.
Because Jelly Roll had come a long way. He’d been through some shit. But, like his nickname, given to him by his mother because he was overweight as a child, he wore it all with a badge of honor. A badge in his music that made him relatable to everyone, because everyone dreams of a way out of something.
Jelly Roll is a musician blending the genres of rap, country and rock. With the cross inked on to his right check, just below his eye, he looks more rapper than country singer. But, he’s someone more that both of those identities. He’s…someone more like a prophet in the way his words have healed and helped. In the way he visits juvenile delinquency facilities to try helping other kids escape or avoid the unfair shake the system gave him.
Jelly Roll…
A man, who most definitely became more than just the son of a sinner, even if he still preferred his drink of choice,
You’re here for the red sangria recipe, so let’s get it. This recipe is modeled after our popular Santeria Sangria, which is a blend between traditional, Spanish sangria and a refreshing, unique Boozn Sam’s take in the form of floral notes that balance out the sweet fruit flavors.
Ingredients:
A bottle of Tempranillo or Grenache red wine (feeling fancy? Check out this delicious Bayfield Winery Row 25
1 medium sized red apple
1 medium sized oranges, sliced
1/2 pint of fresh raspberries
1/2 pint of fresh blueberries
1/2 pint of strawberries
Dried Rose or Hibiscus Petals
Ice cubes
Assembly
Slice your fruit. All of it. Large chunks will do. Put in a large pitcher.
Add your bottle of wine
Let sit for an hour (overnight is better.)
Grab the glass of your choosing. Fill the glass half full with ice. Add your sangria.
Garnish with your flower petals.
Enjoy.
*Fortify with triple sec orange
The Extended Version for making Red Sangria
Although sangria’s appeal lies in its versatility and the way it brings people together over food and drink, nothing beats a good ol’ fashioned red sangria recipe. This recipe is modeled after our popular Santeria Sangria, which is a blend between traditional, Spanish sangria and a refreshing, unique Boozn Sam’s take in the form of floral notes that balance out the sweet fruit flavors.
It’s perfect for all sunny, summer activities. The Beach. Grilling out. Bike Rides. In your coffee mug at playgrounds with your kids. Running with the bulls in Spain. Proof I did that:
The word “sangria” itself is derived from the Spanish word “sangre,” meaning “blood,” which refers to the deep red color of traditional red sangria. The earliest documented references to sangria date back to the Middle Ages when it was common practice to mix wine with water to purify it and make it safer to drink.
We’re keeping things Spanish around here. Hola. So, the wines provided are sweeter, lighter Spanish wines. But, if you want to spice things up you can always use a local wine from your area. I’m a big fan of a rose, like this rose called Row 25, from my friends at Bayfield Winery.
Ingredients:
A bottle of Tempranillo or Grenache red wine
1 medium sized red apple
1 medium sized oranges, sliced
1/2 pint of fresh raspberries
1/2 pint of fresh blueberries
1/2 pint of strawberries
Dried Rose or Hibiscus Petals
Ice cubes
Assembly
Slice your fruit. All of it. Large chunks will do. Put in a large pitcher.
Add your bottle of wine
Let sit for an hour (overnight is better.)
Grab the glass of your choosing. Fill the glass half full with ice. Add your sangria.
Garnish with your flower petals.
Enjoy.
*Fortify with triple sec orange
Final Notes:
The longer you let your red sangria recipe sit the stronger the flavors will infuse and the more intense your sangria will be. I like to let my drinks meld overnight. If you’re short on time, and want to skip the hassle of buying all the ingredients, buy the kit. Many of the ingredients are organic, and, since they are dried ingredients, they are more potent. You can get a great sangria in 10 minutes!
In this episode I was joined by Phil from Bayfield Winery and Blue Ox Cider in Bayfield, WI. This episode is a follow up to episode 24. It does contain spoilers for that episode, so if you haven’t listened to that one yet, start there.
Podcast Summary:
“Anyway, I’ll Drink to That” is a Boozn Sam’s production, exploring the fun, quirky, and fascinating tales of drinks that define culture, history and the world. Every drink has a story to tell, and I’m going to tell it…as true as I can. Hosted by Sam, from Boozn Sam’s. Saddle up with a good cocktail and give me a few minutes of your time for a mystery surrounding a drink that changed the world.
Episode 26 Bayfield Winery Details:
In this episode we cover a wide range of topics, from the 100 year old farmhouse turned tasting room to the fruit loop area in Wisconsin. We talked about co-ferments and why it’s important that you don’t have to wear a hazmat suit when you’re tending to your fruit.
