There are more than just bananas in there...
Ever just wake up in a bad mood? I do all the time. I did it today. No good reason, I slept well with a roof over me in a comfy bed, love of my life beside me and my wee little scrap of a man snoring gently in his room. Still, something about today just hits me wrong. I don’t care for the cut of it’s jib, the way it wears that stupid hat. You know how it is. I am used to managing my idiosyncrasies, so we are gonna muddle through as we stand and make The Ghosts of Black’s Beach.
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I’ve been thinking about New Orleans lately, a lot. I’m not sure if I am missing it or if it is missing me, but there is something in the air. Who am I kidding? I am missing everywhere. I’ve been having dreams about dinners in truck stops in Oklahoma and driving across Kansas. Both noble activities, but hardly exciting, well except during tornado weather. Where was I, oh, dreaming about cafe au lait and beignets, green ones and yellow ones and wondering if the room is spinning or if it’s just me in the bar at the Hotel Montelone. Yeah, I know what it means to miss New Orleans. So, join me as we stand and make a Crescent City classic, the Vieux Carre.
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I had other plans for tonight, but when I got home Laura had brought me a big cup of pebble ice with a request for something tiki. I ran through my mental Rolodex (that’s an old school contacts app, for you kids) trying to find something I had all the ingredients to make and sounded appetizing. I settled on a classic Singapore Sling, but after making it, taking pictures and drinking it, I decided to switch and make an infinitely more interesting variation, the South Seas Sling.
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