As Withnail’s uncle said, “Come on, lads, the sky’s beginning to bruise, night must fall, and we shall be forced to camp.” Why do I mention it? Not quite sure, myself, but there has to be something there in the first line to entice you to begin reading. Naturally, that should be followed with some sort of cohesive thought meant to grab your attention, perhaps a bit of a head fake to throw you off the scent of where this one is going. On the one hand, it should be obvious that whatever I’m talking about in the beginning should segue smoothly into me asking you to help in the creation of the drink, which I then reveal in the last line of the first paragraph. To be fair, it is usually done in a manner that is a bit strained, a nod to me trying to be a bit too clever, while just getting enough words in that I feel good about the opening since I rarely mention what I am really thinking till after the break and often not until the drink itself is made. So, with that in mind, won’t you please join me as we stand and make, The Full Monte.
We made it to Christmas, but this is not the holiday we were expecting. I had planned a very different post today, but with the events of this morning, I just can’t. Life goes on and we are making a drink, but like so much in 2020, we are going to make some accommodations and not pretend for a moment that any of this is remotely normal. So in that spirit, please join me for this last of our The 12 Drinks of Christmas. Sing along at home, if you like, because, “For the twelfth drink of Christmas, Uncle Monkey made for me, Yule Love Amaro”.
A date which will live in infamy, indeed. I figure y’all keep up with the news so you’re aware that this is the 79th Anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack that killed 2,403 people, when we were caught unawares by Japanese forces. It was a sneak attack that very few people considered possible and almost no one anticipated. Unlike our current situation which has been predicted since well back in the summer when folks were being pretty clear about how masks and social distancing would keep us from hitting the awful benchmark of 100,000 new cases and up to 1,000 deaths per day or roughly half our current counts. If only there was something we could have done. If only there was some way that we could make a difference now. If only there was some way to stop the day after day death rates as high as this infamous date 79 years ago. Maybe drinking will help, it’s not likely but it’s easy, so please join me as we stand and make the Montenegro Sour.
We have been talking about travel quite a bit lately, I guess it is true that when you can’t do something, talking about it is the next best thing. Unless you’ve got facetime, of course. The topic came around to New Orleans which was basically just a list of places where we wanted to go have a drink or appetizer or dessert or even a meal. We are strong believers in the moveable feast. Some of my very best meals ever, took place over 3-4 hours in 4-5 restaurants or bars, with lots of time to stroll the streets and laugh in between courses. New Orleans certainly lends itself to this sort of meandering celebration of decadence, with lots of incredible options and character to spare. After spending a bit of time salivating over meals and cocktails past, my father began to pine for a Milk Punch he had enjoyed at Arnaud’s and then he sent me a recipe. So, won’t you please join me as we stand and make, a Devilish Coffee Milk Punch.
It’s good to have folks looking out for you, always. None of us gets through alone, we all need help. Honestly, we need to give help, too. It’s symbiotic, as it should be. Let’s make a drink in honor of those folks who make a difference in our lives, often without us even knowing it. Please join me now as we stand and make the Guardian Angel.