Gothic Food and Drink.
Prunes.
Blackberries. Cherries. Liquorice. Absinthe. |
red wine duh!
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Anything you can get at 7/11 is pretty gothic. Especially the tequitos.
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And the deliciousness of the tequitos. |
MONSTER - the drink.
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What the fuck is a tequito?
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*shakes head in shame*
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Apples
Count Chocula Black Seedless Grapes Black Forest Cake Pomegranate Juice Snakebite and Black |
Venison beef jerky.
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Fake bats! Num num num num num num num!
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I could't find any gothic but, ALL FEAR THE EMO COOKIES!!
http://flickr.com/photos/25008018@N00/2313267472/ |
No! Fake bats! It's what Oz... wait... blood... FUCK!!!
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Jägermeister, Bordeaux wine and a nice medium bull steak.
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How the fuck is food or drink goth? "Hello, I'm a blackberry and I listen to Sisters Of Mercy and waste away my pathetic little life sitting here in this fruit basket of dark eternal death. I only wish i could magicly sprout some little black goth hands so I could post on that there gothic.net. Oh woe is me!" |
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Despite it's ungothic nature, the homemade blackberry liqueur is a fine taste to savour whilst listening to your music of choice. |
I think he means food that goths eat a lot. He's just not good at wording things like that. Unless I'm terribly mistaken and there is food that is in some way or another gothic.
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Thats nice =] |
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If you're looking for black colored food or melancholy themed meals there is always this classic passage from Joris-Karl Huysmans' A Rebours (Against The Grain). In this scene the protagonist is throwing a mourning party to sarcastically "celebrate" his sexual impotence. The black food, black settings and perverse humor of mixing sex and death strikes me as gothic.
In the dining room, hung in black and opening on the transformed garden with its ash-powdered walks, its little pool now bordered with basalt and filled with ink, its clumps of cypresses and pines, the dinner had been served on a table draped in black, adorned with baskets of violets and scabiouses, lit by candelabra from which green flames blazed, and by chandeliers from which wax tapers flared. To the sound of funeral marches played by a concealed orchestra, nude negresses, wearing slippers and stockings of silver cloth with patterns of tears, served the guests. Out of black-edged plates they had drunk turtle soup and eaten Russian rye bread, ripe Turkish olives, caviar, smoked Frankfort black pudding, game with sauces that were the color of licorice and blacking, truffle gravy, chocolate cream, puddings, nectarines, grape preserves, mulberries and black-heart cherries; they had sipped, out of dark glasses, wines from Limagne, Roussillon, Tenedos, Val de Penas and Porto, and after the coffee and walnut brandy had partaken of kvas and porter and stout. The farewell dinner to a temporarily dead virility--this was what he had written on invitation cards designed like bereavement notices. |
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Salted rancid pork loins Goat urine meed Flatbread |
Count Chocula listens to Bauhaus.
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*sigh*
I eat anything that tastes good. bleh. |
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