How a cocktail helped the cause of Cinchona, Conquest, and Colonialism.
What is common amongst Juniper berries, Dutch Courage, Anopheles mosquitoes, the Peruvian Andes, and the East India Company which carried out its largely nefarious activities in many parts of the world? The unlikely answer is a summer cocktail: Gin and Tonic! While complicated cocktails abound, the G&T charms with its simplicity: a dash of gin, a splash of tonic water with a lime wheel playing a flavour enhancer.
Think G&T and a Kiplingesque picture of British Bungalows with cool shady verandas occupied by British Sahibs and Memsahibs pulling languorously on long cold glasses brimming with the good stuff, while indulging in genteel conversation without a care in the world, comes to mind. Nothing could be further from the truth. In all probability, the Brits were feverishly discussing new ways to stave off the ‘ague’ as malaria was known then. For the only remedy (strangely, both preventive and curative) they knew was G&T, an unlikely weapon in the British arsenal (almost as important as the Gatling Gun) which helped them not just conquer but also keep their crown of colonies, of which India was the jewel.
Turn to history books, and we are assailed with tales of a people who showed up on our shores ostensibly as traders, but fell so much in love with the unparalleled wealth they saw, that they chose to stay and make mayhem for two centuries. Armed with superior weapons, whether guns or germs, it did not take them long to conquer all that they laid their eyes on. But holding on to conquered land needed numbers. And these were dwindling thanks to not just the hostile weather, but also a fever with shivers which had been the bane of hot, damp, low lying, mosquito- infested areas since the zenith of the Roman empire. The malady was Malaria. And it refused to discriminate among the conquerors and the conquered, The British were on the lookout for some way, anyway, to prevent or cure this ill, which was a serious spanner in the great work of Empire expansion. Just another ‘White Man’s Burden’!
While Gin was of distinctly Dutch origin (there are references to a spirit flavoured with ‘genever’ or Juniper berries in thirteenth century Flemish manuscripts), the British soldiers battling it out in Europe took to it like ducks to water, frequently indulging freely before going into battle, helping themselves not just to Dutch Gin, but also ‘Dutch Courage.’ It was not long before the ‘Gin Craze’ took over London in the early eighteenth century. It was largely a cheap spirit because no duties were levied on it, unlike those on French Brandy. And thus, it gained popularity with the hoi polloi, disdained by the upper classes of society.
Tonic water was a different story altogether. While the British were indulging themselves in Europe, on the other side of the world, on the high slopes of the Peruvian Andes, Spanish conquerors discovered a miracle bark which though the proverbial bitter medicine, prevented the ague in natives who gamely chewed it, having decided that bitter was better than dead. The bark in question was the bark of the Cinchona tree, which contains quinine, still used in the treatment of malaria. Peru and the conquering Spaniards would have had a stranglehold on quinine production had it not been for the enterprising Dutch at work again. They managed to smuggle a few seeds to their colonies in Java and lo and behold! There was quinine for all.
Once it was discovered that the powdered bark worked just as well as the fresh one, the Brits took to importing their preventive and curative medicine in large quantities and distributing it to their soldiers en mass, with strict instructions to down bitter medicine if they hoped to either avoid or stay alive after being afflicted by the ague.
The bitter truth bit everyone where it hurt the most: their taste buds, until someone came up with the idea of mixing a concoction of quinine powder, water, and sugar. Though the bitter pill was somewhat sweetened, there definitely was room for improvement. This came in the form of soda water which further reduced the bitterness. Since it performed the task of staving off malaria, it was popularly called ‘Tonic Water.’ An enterprising person called Erasmus Bond is credited with the first commercial production of Tonic Water, with suspicious serendipity in 1858, just when the rule of the East India Company was ousted in favour of the British crown. Schweppes in the meantime had started producing ‘Indian Tonic Water’ and this was brought to Indian shores by British sailors, who also brought their favourite tipple: Gin.
While the name of the bright spark who first thought of mixing the two has been lost to the mists of time, it was a match made in heaven. And viola! a new cocktail was born. It was a win-win. It was alcohol, it tasted great, it either prevented or cured a deadly disease and was something the doctor ordered. What could be better? Although recent studies have shown that the blood levels of quinine generated by downing the G&T are not sufficient to prevent malaria, it was probably the frequency with which it was downed which did the trick. And Plasmodium, (the genus of protozoan which causes malaria) having never been subjected to such alcoholic treatment was still too hung over to put up a strong resistance.
The British, for once, had crafted a sweet ending to a tale of woe (which was quite unlike them). The Crown conquered and colonized and Gin &Tonic made sure that bitter was always better with some added alcohol. Perhaps Winston Churchill had the last word on the subject when he famously declared “The gin and tonic has saved more Englishmen’s lives and minds, than all the doctors in the Empire.”
With Goa beginning production of artisanal gin, the G&T has come full circle. So, the next time you are accused of overindulgence (if you indulge in the first place), whether you belong to the healthcare fraternity or not, you have a suitable riposte up your sleeve, “The Gin and Tonic is not just a drink; it is a drug!”
