Unbound At the Table — Quietly Feral — with the Cocktail Diaries

Some hungers don’t announce themselves.

They don’t arrive loudly. They don’t demand satisfaction. They sit patiently, waiting for the moment when performance drops away and honesty is no longer optional.

This is the kind of hunger Unkissable is interested in.

Appetite vs Wanting

There’s a difference between appetite and wanting.

Appetite is loud. Performative. Socially legible.
Wanting is quieter — and far more dangerous.

Appetite asks to be fed.
Wanting asks to be acknowledged.

The trouble comes when we’re taught to confuse the two.

Food That Doesn’t Soften the Question

This is not a post-feast table.

This is bread, butter, and salt. Anchovies, if you’re brave enough. A few anchovies laid over plain crisps or water crackers — nothing dressed up, nothing softened — just enough salt to stay present.

That’s all it needs. Something sharp. Something honest. Food that doesn’t distract you from what you’re thinking.

Not comfort food — clarifying food.

The kind of plate that doesn’t soothe, but steadies.

What Stands Beside It

This isn’t a moment for sweetness.

A clean, bracing drink belongs here. Something stripped back. No garnish worth speaking of. No softness introduced to make it easier.

Just enough bitterness to stay awake to yourself.

A Dry Martini makes sense here — the kind that doesn’t cushion the landing. Gin-forward, clean, and unapologetic. A twist of lemon, not to soften it, but to sharpen attention.

The Sassenach gin works beautifully in this context. Fresh, herbaceous, structured — it holds its line without becoming decorative. It’s a gin that knows what it’s doing and doesn’t feel the need to explain itself.

I tend to follow Sam’s note on this one (page 40) in The Cocktail Diaries — less dilution, more presence. Though in the Australian heat, I’ll admit there are days when the shaken version earns its place. Call it practical adaptation. Or call it Bond-age.

Either way, it’s a drink that doesn’t ask permission.

It doesn’t perform.
It doesn’t flirt.
It simply arrives — alert, composed, and fully itself.

The Entry Wound

Unkissable begins where many stories refuse to look.

Not at love’s promise — but at what happens when affection becomes a performance. When desire is managed instead of honoured. When hunger is reshaped into something acceptable.

The wound isn’t dramatic.
It doesn’t bleed publicly.

It’s the slow recognition that what you’re being offered isn’t enough — and never was.

Quietly Feral

There is a feral quality to honesty when it’s no longer apologising.

Not loud.
Not violent.
Just uncontainable.

Unkissable isn’t about being desired.

It’s about what happens when you stop negotiating your wanting into something palatable.

Keeping the Table Small

Some truths don’t need witnesses.

They need space.

A smaller table. Fewer explanations. Enough steadiness to sit with the question instead of rushing to answer it.

This isn’t the beginning.

It’s the moment before you pretend you didn’t notice.

Some hungers don’t want feeding. They want naming.