Hennessy is like that one soundcloud rapper from high school who exclusively wears Vlone and thinks they’re one song away from making it big. It looks like a top shelf liquor and has the price tag to match, but leaves everyone looking at you questioning who the fuck you think you are.
Drinking Hennessy is like reverse ego death: you're drinking Speights, I’m sipping on Henny, we are not the same. The real ego death hits the morning after, upon regaining self awareness. Half the Hennessy experience is the sense of faux-affluence and your own self-justification of your regrettable spending habits. Which at the price point of $84 for 22 standards (equivalent to $3.81 per standard) is a price reserved for the elite few like renowned Hennessy drinkers Kanye West, the late Kim Jung Il, and Critic Te Ārohi.
Once you’ve got your Hennessy and figured out what the fuck a Cognac is (it’s brandy with a less stripper-y name), you’ll have to find out how this drink of sophistication is meant to be drunk. Naturally, Critic began drinking straight out the bottle whilst aggressively throwing up a four with our other hand, resembling a frat boy struggling to take photos for their biennial profile picture update. At first this drink fucking burns, leaving an unsettling amount of warmth, like interacting with an optimist. It makes you weary of what is yet to come, as well as altering your taste buds to the point in which Hennessy was the only thing I could taste for the foreseeable future. With others begging for a taste of Hennessy, one friend stated that it tasted like it had a “hand sanny” amount of alcohol. I disagreed, although at this point I was still convincing myself that this $80 bottle was superior to its bottom shelf equivalent. Spoiler alert: it’s not.
Next, in what might’ve been the most pretentious move in flat party history, I began drinking Hennessy on the rocks. Which was actually a vast improvement, or maybe my inebriation lessened the taste. Either way, the burning sensation had gone and at that point had become somewhat enjoyable. That, or wistful delusion.
Hennessy and coke: like a rum and coke but sweeter. That’s it.
The desire to drink Hennessy is like what motivates a rabbit to wait for the last possible moment to run across the road in front of a speeding car. A perverse moment of thrill seeking fuelled through the emotions of anger, fear, regret, and lust. Do with that what you will.
Pairs well with: Rap caviar spotify playlist and thinking in fuckboy emojis
X factor: Hennything is possible
Hangover depression level: 8/10. Operating out of primal instinct.
Taste rating: 7/10. I didn’t waste my money. I didn’t waste my money. I didn’t waste my money.