There are more than just bananas in there...
When Covid-19 set in and we began staying home, I decided to make a drink per day and write some words about it. Hilarity ensues.
It’s cold. In mid May, and I don’t much care for that today. Don’t get me wrong, I prefer cool days to hot ones, but I’m just tired of this weird weather and these weird times. I want to hang out with my friends and laugh too loud and too long, but that’s not where we are today, so I’m gonna suck it up, put on my cardigan, crank up The Cardigans and make a drink. This one is a request that didn’t come with a name, so we’re gonna call it the Cardigan.
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Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers and, if you believe the statistics, congratulations on a job well done to about 70% you mother f’ers out there. My wife is an excellent mother, which makes me an excellent…mother’s fella. So, when she mentioned that this was a good brunch drink sort of day, instead of whipping out my tried and true Bloody Mary I opted for something a little more esoteric, to give her a change of pace, to break up the monotony, as it were, so join us as we make the Gordon’s Breakfast Cup.
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We spent the day working in the backyard, cleaning up, hanging new lights, trimming branches, burning a bunch of wood in the fire pit. You know, good honest work. It wasn’t till I walked inside for a drink that I realized I smelled like a campfire and that’s when I decided I needed a real drink, something smoky and rugged, like me. Looking at my recent acquisitions, a new stirring pitcher and a fresh bottle of mezcal made this one an easy call, the Oaxacan Old-Fashioned.
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I went into the world today, didn’t want to, but there were specific nondeliverables required for Mother’s Day. I ran the errands, I wore my mask, I did my part to look out for other folks, keep my distance as a courtesy and all that. For the most part, folks were decent but one thing that made me sad was just how many people don’t understand arrows. I thought arrows were simple, you use them to know which way to go, or to indicate which way you want to go, easy right? Well, I was wrong, so we are gonna have a remedial cocktail, so we can all have a refresher on The Blinker.
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Change is the only constant in this world and how you adapt says a lot about who you are. You know, the long line of evolution coming down to us is not really the survival of the fittest, but the story of how those who were most ready to adapt to the changing landscape were able to thrive. I had planned a much more complicated cocktail this evening and I had grand visions of how I’d talk about the simplicity of enjoying a complex pleasure, but it was not to be. I’ve got chores to do for my grandma and when grandma calls, you go. So, a quick and easy, chosen by Liam, cocktail it is. Like those stalwart apes in ’49 who followed the stories in the papers only to find that things were not as rosy as they’d been told, we are gonna adapt and thrive with the Gold Rush.
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So…you’re listening to The Eagles with your pals, one day…
I’m a fan of The Eagles, have been since the music was current, but I’ve never been crazy about Tequila Sunrise. I like it fine, it’ll do, but it is never something I’m gonna queue up first. I’m kind of the same way about the drink, they are nice on occasion, they are pretty, but a bit sweet for my taste and grenadine just makes me want a Shirley Temple. Which makes me think I need to work up an adult version of that famous kiddie cocktail. I remember ordering those with class and savoir faire as the most worldly 7 year old at the Red Lobster, but that’s another tale for another day. My wife, on the other hand, loves a fruity, sweet drink at the end of a long day, so Tequila Sunrise it is.
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A big portion of my socially distanced existence revolves around selecting a cocktail to make and acquiring the tools and ingredients. Some days this is easy, I want a daquiri or Laura has a request or the day lends itself to an obvious choice like today. So, happy Cinco de Mayo while everyone is having margaritas tonight, in my naturally contrarian manner, I’ll be making La Paloma.
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This morning I saw a reference to the Norse goddess, Freyja. She’s an interesting character, most remembered as the goddess of love, lust and fertility, but I prefer her “darker side” as the goddess of magic who hand picks half of the fallen who enter Valhalla, plus she’s got a sweet cat-drawn chariot drawn. Yeah, a chariot pulled by a team of cats. So much awesome. Of course, the way my mind works instead of mixing up some Viking blood concoction, I’m suddenly presenting a virtual offering to our own Nashville goddess of magic, Freya West, the human embodiment of the Bee’s Knees.
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My buddy Matt is celebrating one of those big milestone birthdays today. Out of respect for my elder, I won’t say which one, but I will say he is remarkably well-preserved for such an advanced age. The thing is, they had planned a big kickoff to the next decade with a trip to JazzFest to party in style. Like so many plans this year, JazzFest isn’t happening today and Matt and Julie are celebrating from home. So tonight we are gonna raise a traditional New Orleans cocktail to him and for all of our friends we wish we could be singing and dancing with in the Crescent City tonight. So crank up some Dr. John and enjoy the classic Sazerac.
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Shakespeare said that “there is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” This year, things are different, there’s no getting around it. The key is to just make the best of it and not spend so much time worrying about how things should be that you miss out on good they can be. So, on this horseless derby day, we’re gonna have a Mint Julep in the shade.
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