Léman, le Léman / recipe for the Léman cocktail

/one part Giant Hogweed brandy
/one part japanese honeysuckle syrup
/one part from Japanese knotweed juice
/one part from elderberry rum
/one slice of lime from dining promotions payed with a HSBC card
/three drops of Squid sauce

*First of all I would not advice you to try this cocktail at home, or with friends, or with your boyfriend/girlfriend, far
or close relatives, or with your co-workers during weekends and in any case never, never, after midnight on a full moon
close to the Lake Geneva, or close to one of those mansions dotting the lakeshore, just below the Botanical Garden.
Those high golden gates and pleasure domes with polished bronze lions that sometimes stand guard in front of sumptuous but forbidding portals. Lake Geneva lacks monsters and I don’t mean your run-of-the-mill humanoid orphan
that came to be known as Frankenstein’s monster, brought to life by the famous quill of Mary Shelley one stormy night,
on these very shores. As a minor and unseen act of teratogenic intentionality, Lake Geneva needs a truly unfathomable
set of creatures, creatures of cephalopodan proportions and invasive origins. Lake Geneva needs its own Kraken, something that could guard its blue depths. Something that would be later recognized as a real denizen of the abyss, first
a rumour, regain then being awarded true taxonomic membership as part of what HYPERLINK «http://en.wikipedia.
org/wiki/Pierre_Denys_de_Montfort»Pierre Dénys de Montfort called the kraken octopus and that could in theory capsize those beautiful white yachts cruising the waves.

At the small Museum of Natural History in Geneva one finds a map of the Lake with post-glacial migratory routes of
various fish and one is emboldened to think that giant monsters, especially giant catfish (members of the great order of
the Siluriformes) might one day find a home under better climes, helping hands and warming times. Most such fish are
waves of relative newcomers that have been repopulating the Lake after the ice ages. One is emboldened to think that
the easiest way to encourage such teratogenic acts of introducing creatures of mythical proportion into the Lake would
need an incentive or the right spur into the good direction. Various historical narratives of changing biogeographic fates
show us that monsters can indeed be encouraged by quirks of taste, acclimatisation, food design and exotic trade. In
the search for honey, Killer bees were introduced. The search for profits has introduced the Nile perch to Lake Victoria.
Suffice to say I was encouraged in this little endeavor by a drawing of French comic book artist Moebius, where a writer
sits at the table and concocts a list of items. Well in my heart this list would make up a cocktail recipe for a monster to
inhabit Lake Geneva. Tintenfisch as you know is the vulgar German name for the kraken, the octopus, calamari squids
and other invertebrates that not only can grow to monstrous size but can also disappear into a cloud of sepia ink. Sepia
indeed was a dark brown/reddish liquid derived from the ink sack of the cuttlefish used as ink and artists pigment from
Greco-Roman times until the 19th century. The so-called «blanch-ink-jet manoeuvre» used by cuttlefish to escape its
predators shows that monsters need to be lured and invited to manifest themselves. From below the desk, Moebius’
drawing shows a tentacle already questioning established biogeographic zones, encouraging a weird monster liberation
front that would conjoin facebook likes, writing recipes and cooking up a homely teratogenic presence on the shores of
Lake Geneva. Sante!