It's no secret that Mama loves a stiff drink. I've been having an affair for years with a gentleman named Jack and I love him and cannot fathom the thought of turning my back on him. He's gentle and loving and I'm not leaving him. Daddy is ok with this because it makes me just a wee bit nicer.
There is another. An older man that is wise with grey hair and a chiseled chin. He comes swooping in usually late at night and he's always different. Sometimes peach or cherry. Sometimes just plain ole' plain ole'. He's the bad boy your Mama tells you to stay away from. A criminal. A gangster. But you just can't. You go back for more. How can something that feels so right be so wrong? You are my Moonshine lover.
Please read the article from Garden and Gun when you have the time. It is a wonderful read on what Moonshine means to the Southerner. It is born and bred into us to love moonshine. Just as we are to love biscuits and gravy, we must also love the corn whiskey.
"It goes by countless names, but no matter what you call it, moonshine is experiencing a golden age—and it tastes pretty good too."