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How You Can Still Drink Jäger As a Grown Up

How You Can Still Drink Jäger As a Grown Up


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The traditional way to drink it is fun, but a little immature

Shutterstock/ Freeskyline

No need to completely give up Jäger.

What’s your first thought when someone suggests you order a round Jägermeister at the bar? It’s probably something along the lines of “but I have to work tomorrow” or “I’m not trying to take shots right now!” In other words, everyone knows that Jägermeister is prominently indulged in as a shot, or better yet, a Jäger bomb.

If you’re not looking to throw down a couple of shots — because you’re “too grown up” or have to be productive in the morning — you may think that you have to give up Jäger altogether. But we’re here to tell you that there are other ways you can enjoy this unique German liquor.

Here are a few ways you can enjoy Jäger that aren’t as “college” as taking shots:

Drink It in the Morning

You read that right — Jäger can be enjoyed in the a.m. How, you ask? In a brunch cocktail, of course. We have the perfect Jäger mary recipe that will give your morning just the kick it needs to get the weekend going.

Drink It in a Cocktail

No, shots are not the only way to enjoy Jäger without getting super creative — you can mix it into a quick cocktail as well. Whether you mix up a simple Jäger and soda or an intricate recipe, this liquor can create quite the drink!

Check out this Lovely Licorice Jager cocktail recipe.

Make It a Root Beer Float

Who says root beer floats are just for kids? In fact, when you add liquor to this tasty treat, it becomes strictly adults only. We have the perfect Jäger milkshake recipe for all of you ice cream fanatics out there! Check it out here.


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


Master those moves like Jäger

I n my late teens, I had a Danish girlfriend and spent a lot of time in Denmark. On one visit, I was suffering from a heavy cold, so her grandmother gave me a tiny bottle of a powerfully aromatic dark liqueur called Gammel Dansk. She said it was a traditional remedy. It certainly breezed through my cold, making me feel better almost instantly, although I can’t say I liked the taste very much.

A few years later, I was surprised to see people knocking back a similar drink in a nightclub in Leeds. This drink was Jägermeister, and it tasted a lot like Gammel Dansk, only sweeter.

Jägermeister is German and dates back to 1934. It was a popular drink with the Nazi hierarchy. Gammel Dansk, on the other hand, means “Old Danish” but is relatively recent creation it was launched in 1962. In their home countries, both have an ultra-traditional image. Jägermeister means “huntmaster” and Gammel Dansk too trades on hunting associations, its motto being: “Gammel Dansk does you good in the morning, after the day’s work, when you go hunting, on a fishing trip, or as an aperitif.”

So what was a strange-tasting German drink like Jägermeister doing in a Yorkshire nightclub? It would be nice to think that it was a mysterious process comparable to how Buckfast – made by Benedictines in Devon – became popular on Glasgow housing estates. But it was actually a deliberate ploy by Jägermeister’s British distributor. They sent bottles to barmen, sponsored music events and sent out scantily clad young ladies, known as Jägerettes, brandishing the distinctive bottles. They have now created a monster. Gammel Dansk, by contrast, has never been marketed in the UK.

It’s hard now to separate the drink from the image but, drunk neat and slowly, Jägermeister can actually be rather pleasant. There are bitter flavours, quite a bit of liquorice and then a big burst of something menthol that tears through your sinuses and invigorates. It’s easy to see why it has proved so popular with the Nordic outdoors set. As a sort of grown-up cough syrup, Jägermeister has few peers – except of course Gammel Dansk, if you can find it.

Henry Jeffreys is a drinks writer based in London. His first book, Empire of Booze, will be published by Unbound in 2016. Twitter: @henrygjeffreys


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