Warm booze: The best drinks to take to Glastonbury Festival
The last few weeks have been very, very warm. Almost uncomfortably warm as I sat out in my garden, trying to tan my pale skin and texting my friends, not even having to put in any effort to convince them out for a drink. Then at the pub, while enjoying our delicious cold beverages, the thought hits—Glastonbury is so soon. Savour the actually enjoyable drink while you can.
There is truly delicious alcohol at Glastonbury. I spent all year dreaming about touching down and swiftly making a beeline for some crisp Somerset cider that will be so flavoursome that it will briefly make me feel patriotic for Great British apples. But part of the magic of the festival is the trust to allow people to bring their own supplies.
Being able to bring in your own drinks, however, also brings in a whole new dilemma. On a year like this one, where the sun has been beating down in the lead up, it’s not just a question of what you might want to drink almost non-stop for several days on end. It’s a question of what drink could possibly hope to survive? When the temperature of your tent seems set to hit volcanic levels, and when bringing a cool box always ends up feeling like a weight too big to bear on top of everything else, there has to be serious contemplation about which drink will actually stay drinkable by the time Friday, Saturday and Sunday rolls around.
There are some obvious, instant answers, and they all sit in the ‘no’ category. Don’t even think about Guinness or some niche, nuanced craft ale. Don’t even think about a prosecco, or about bringing in a shit cider—that’s just insulting to the land. There are delicate deliberations to be had, so let’s discuss the drinks menu.
The guide to drinking at Glastonbury
Beer
Honestly, leave it out. Sure, beer is great, beer is good, beer is a staple. But out of every alcohol ever, beer is the absolute last thing you want to drink warm on day three. You’ll arrive on Wednesday or Thursday, all full of excitement, and yeah, then you’ll enjoy those cans of IPA or whatever when they’re still somewhat fresh.
But then think about Saturday and Sunday. Thinking about how you feel when you wake up sweating in your tent each morning and then think about what on earth must be going on in that can when that yeast water is getting chilled at night, heated up, chilled again, heated up. Any time I see someone holding a beer by the end of the festival, I look at them and simply think, ‘Who are you kidding?’ Bring something else, save the pennies there, but don’t scrimp on the beer. Instead, reframe it as a true reward by allowing yourself to go to a bar and get a proper cold pint. It’s a tough life on the farm; you deserve it.
Wine
Wine is fussier; there are no clear lines to draw. If you’d asked me in 2023, I would have laughed in your face if you suggested red wine at Glastonbury and I do still stand by that a pinot noir has no place there but, there’s a caveat – Sangria, even without the ice and the fruit and the whatever, is still a great option. Given that red wine feels like the sponsoring booze of The 1975, that’s a nice option to honour the group during their headline set without it being, well, gross.
That’s the thing here. Warm wine politics is full of caveats. I’d say no to a strict white wine, leave the rieslings at home, don’t even try to go straight in with the vino. But, white wine spritzes with some lemonade? Perfect. Bonus points if you’re cheeky and ask the bar for some ice.
The winner of the wine game goes against everything I naturally think and feel about wine. I like a dry vino, something that feels alcoholic. But not here. The best warmed-up wine is going to be a sickly sweet one. If you start off with a wine that already has too sharp a taste, it’s only going to get more and more sour. Start with the kind of disgusting sweet rose you’d never normally get, and you buy yourself more time. Once again, though, I’d forget about drinking just a glass of wine and accept that for the duration of the festival, you’re drinking like a reckless teenager. Wine is a mixer now, accept it.
Spirits
This brings me to spirits and what I believe to be perhaps two ultimate Glastonbury drinks: one socially acceptable and one utterly hedonistic and worrying.
Let’s start with the former: tequila. Let’s face it, tequila is never delicious on its own, so it’s not like you really have to worry about what the warmth will do to the flavour there; it remains about the same. But what tequila does have in its favour is variety and a glorious chemical build that makes it an upper, not a downer. Tequila hangovers are never as bad. It’s a booze designed to keep you happy, so you really can’t go wrong there. It’s also a booze that can easily make you feel fancy. Mix it with orange juice? Tequila Sunrise. Get yourself a margarita mix? Suddenly, you’re a mixologist.
Now for the unhinged recipe. My first ever Glastonbury was almost entirely fuelled by a mix of gin and rose, topped off with lemonade. This is the exact opposite of what I would ever choose to drink anywhere else, but for some reason, it’s a combination that truly wins out, staying pretty delicious no matter how sweltering and sweaty those supplies get. It all mushed into one kind of sweet yet clearly boozy concoction, like a downgraded gin and tonic because absolutely no way would those botanical tonic cans survive even a little while out of the fridge.
Tinnies
Ah, the humble cocktail can, so foolproof, so reliable, so necessary. Some of these should be in your arsenal no matter what, ideally at the top of your load, so when you’re waiting in that long queue at the train station trying to get on a coach, you can start the party early.
Tinnies are great because they keep things interesting. No matter how good your concoctions hold up in the warm, by a few days in, you’ll be sick of it, and that bar spend will go up and up. Having a mixed bag of tinnies keeps things exciting when you can do a lucky dive and then randomly be enjoying a mid-afternoon set with an old-fashioned or something.
They also come along with the benefit of really being made for exactly this reason. As much as you might prefer to ignore the fact that the rest of the time, those cans are packed with preservatives. Long before you fish them out of the fridge at Tesco, they’ve probably been stacked in crates in a warm stockroom for months, and so have things in them to keep them delicious no matter what. As much as they’re always going to be better cold, like literally any booze would, they’re purposefully built to be long-lasting, meaning that the G&T from that tin will undeniably keep better than if you brought your own ingredients to do the mixing yourself. For the serious boozers this year, unafraid of the mythical, horrifying hangover they seem to coax after only one sip, no doubt the Buzzball will be making a headline appearance.
Don’t forget the mixers
During a warm festival where all your supplies are slowly cooking for several days, good mixers will save your life. Good mixers hide a multitude of sins, and I implore you to ignore all rules and go crazy. Treat yourself to some good ones, some delicious ones. Get the mixers that will somehow turn your cheap spirit into a cocktail. Or even just get some good juice so you can feel a little healthier as you rot your insides in the name of fun.
Once again, variety is the spice of life; bring a few different ones. It’ll not only keep things interesting, but it means that if by day three you need to accept that the sun has spoiled the lemonade, you can move on to something new. But mostly, remember, these are heathen times. If you take one piece of advice from this article, let it be this: wine can be a mixer if you’re fun enough.
