Blending a cup of watermelon with an ounce and a half of liquor simply tastes like blended watermelon.
Sex, soma and suicide. By Ford, that about sums it up.
Love in the Time of Kahlúa is a White Cuban presented with a little literary license. There’s no need to have cholera to love this libidinous libation.
Love is an acute illness caused by infection of the heart with the bacterium Ignitio amorae. The amorae bacterium is usually found in cities and rural areas. Currently, there are no vaccines available.
The marriage of rye whiskey with grapefruit juice distills the pretentiousness of Mr. Collins and the vanity of Miss Caroline Bingley. It represents Mr. Darcy of the ball rather than the gentleman at Pemberly.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have an everlasting wife.
Champagne, grenadine and ice create an adult Shirley Temple that makes Ethan Frome’s second sled run worth the consequences. A worthy celebratory drink to usher in a new year.
The color is a stifling winter white accented with a youthful hue. Its body is sickly, revealing sadness, resignation, loneliness, resentment and a hint of pickled anger. Fragrant with elm, the seductive blond notes combine with aging bitterness and masculine duty in a subtle, rich narrative, paced gracefully to an austere finish and a tremendous hangover.
Rub a lime around the rim of a chilled glass. Dip the rim in chili lime powder. Mix the rest of the ingredients, add to the glass with ice. Top with beer.
A big nurse and a con man walk into bar. The bartender says, “I’ve got the cure for what ails ya.” The con man says, “I’ll have Sex With Candy.” The nurse replies, “No. He’ll have a Lobotomy.” But instead the bartender serves a Cosmopolitan. Go figure.
Infuse two people with insecurity. Season each liberally with expectations and assumptions. Knead until tender. Mix with stress. Bake in the heat of a fight for control until painful to touch. Serve raw when a firm callus of anger, hurt, resentment and selfishness appears. Add tears to taste.
For some reason this drink became a burden. (Not unlike its companion book.) It wasn’t a fun, celebratory drink. It was unremarkable and became a milestone to get passed in order to move on to the next book.
Brave New World was published in 1932 and all I could think as I was reading it was Seriously? This dude came up with this 85 years ago? How did he know?!
The drink was good. Ish. Kinda basic – nothing too exciting. But I finished it quickly. And asked for another.
Oprah said, “This is one of the greatest love stories I have ever read.” In my opinion, this book is the antithesis of a love story.
What a monumental disappointment to pair this gross drink with such a great book. Rye whiskey tastes like a grumpy old man. Grapefruit juice is Sour McSourson.
Thank you, Jane Austen, for creating characters that I fell in love with. And for teaching me that every once in a while, the hype is for real.
Tonight we made Ethan Poms. They’re champagne topped with crushed ice and grenadine drizzled over the top. Basically a champagne slushy.
I was rooting for the affair. That’s how awful Zeena was. I’ve never, ever in my life found myself on the side of an affair. But then Ethan Frome happened.
Public Service Announcement: Cosmopolitans are not sweet. They are tartimus maximus. It must have something to do with the pure cranberry and lime juices.
This is a story that will stay with me for a long time. It was extremely well-written, disturbing on a number of levels, and ultimately broke my heart.