7 thoughts on “Becherovka

  1. Hi, sounds like a good night.Is it a brandy drink as I collect miniature bottles of brandy,If so I will try to get one.Thanks, Graeme.

  2. we are a a littel group and enjoy every day becherovka in the evening at the bar by mary.
    my questin now ! where we can bay the original classes the blue stamps in germany ?
    please tell us !thanks frank !mail to:frank-haage@tonline.de

  3. we are a a littel group and enjoy every day becherovka in the evening at the bar by mary.
    my questin now ! where we can bay the original classes the blue stamps in germany ?
    please tell us !thanks frank !mail to:frank-haage@tonline.de

  4. we are a a littel group and enjoy every day becherovka in the evening at the bar by mary.
    my questin now ! where we can bay the original classes the blue stamps in germany ?
    please tell us !thanks frank !mail to:frank-haage@tonline.de

  5. My friend returned from Prague with this wonderful drink.
    Green bottle, yellow label with horizonal blue banners. Original since 1807.
    Thanks to the Czech Republic I have enjoyed sharing it with my girl friend. It has contributed to the, survival and enjoyment of this cold winter we are having.

    Enjoy!

  6. Mr. Whybark:

    Strange to see you in this context; I came here from a Google search for Becherovka. When I lived in Seattle it was easy to find at all the WA-state liquor stores. Now that I live in the bloody hole that is San Francisco, where there’s a liquor store on every third corner, I can’t find Becherovka. I’m hoping to track down a mail-order source.

    I first came upon the stuff a few years ago, when I was new in Seattle, and I showed up (first! by almost an hour!) at a party without knowing anyone but the host. Towards the end of the night, a good Slovakian fellow arrived with a paper-bagged present and insisted that we all have some of it, because it had just been imported by the fellow’s own mother, and it was “brewed from the finest herbs.” In an effort to take a general interest in things alcoholic and people present, I asked him, “Which herbs?”

    He paused.

    “De good ones.” And a friendship was sealed.

    Many months later, that chap, and another guy who was present at the same party, and I, all moved into an apartment together, which I fondly remember. On our first night together in the apartment, the Slav brought out another (just imported) bottle of “The Goodness” and we drank to the goodness. The next months–summer ones–were enjoyable and exciting as we got to know each other, and we crowned that summer by throwing a party in our delapitated place, on the occasion of its receiving a new roof. Such an event required a considerable expenditure on liquor, so we tromped down to the 12th & Pine liquor store together and had a fun time picking out our rums, our tequilas, and our cheap vodkas (alas). One of the two of them made the suggestion of caipirinhas, something the other two of us had never heard of, so we purchased some cachaca as well. I think it was while we were ogling that specialty display that someone turned around and noticed–the goodness. It was available for sale, right here in our own neighborhood, without begging anyone’s Slovakian mother (living in Luxembourg) to make a special trip home and pick up a bottle. It was there, in front of us, attractively packaged, in English.

    The romance of the goodness was only slightly diminished by this realization. We enjoyed many more fine evenings of Becherovka, breaking it out only at the end of a dinner, or once all the party guests had left.

    I lift my glass to your late-night Becherovka adventures, Mike!

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