Cookie Jar On The Kummel Crisis
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There’s a headline from deep sleep dream. And while crisis might be a strong word given other options for post (or gulp, pre-round) sip of Kummel, Cookie Jar Golf’s Sam Williams has filed a lengthy explanation about the possible end of Wolffschmidt’s version of a stout beverage that’s been the preferred option for a long time at the UK’s most famous clubs.
In recent weeks, reports have been coming into us from all corners of the U.K. that clubs are unable to secure orders on further stock of Wolfschmidt, amid rumours that the Danish company has ceased production. Despite a lot of phone calls and various efforts to establish contact with the brand, no official statement has been received however we can confirm that future orders on the product are no longer possible.
Whether that is due to a decision by the company to remove distribution in the U.K. or if the product itself is no longer to be produced at all is not known, and the details behind it seem to be extremely vague.
Multiple conversations with stockists in London & Edinburgh, as well as calls to some of the clubs who are the biggest consumers of the product have failed to yield anything concrete as to why the decision has been taken, however it is apparent that future orders will not be possible.
From Herbert Warren Wind’s New Yorker story about the President’s Putter (thanks reader D for the tip):
When I entered the big room, shortly after one o’clock, perhaps thirty members of the Society were wearing the club tie—two narrow stripes of light blue bordering a wider stripe of dark blue on a field of grass green. Everyone seemed to be in a merry, chaffing mood. For example, I heard a man near me say to a friend, “I gather putted very frequently this morning.” The rejoinder went: “I’m lying doggo. Watch me when it counts.” I was digesting this animated scene when Gerald Micklem, the current president of the O. & C.G.S. and one of my oldest friends in British golf, came striding into the room en route from the ninth green to the tenth tee, and threw down a fast kummel. (Kummel has long been a favorite drink of English golfers, because there is an old wives’ tale to the effect that it is the best antidote in the world for shaking putting.) Before hurrying out to continue his match, Micklem greeted me with his invariable hospitality, barking out his welcome in quick, peremptory phrases. Then, just as I noticed that he was wearing only a medium-weight sweater and no hat, he surveyed my goosedown trail jacket and the rest of my sub-Arctic outfit. “Think you’ll be warm enough?” he asked, and, with a little laugh, stroke out into the cold.
