Cocktails For The Lovéd

Absolut Açai Berry

You’re a nominal party-going individual aren’t you ? If not, would it be wrong to call someone a warrior because they spend the weekends tempestuously flicking tiny parasols  out of their glass? Nope, because we work by tremendous pace all week and the one thing that separates us from the uncertainties of barstool infrastructure, are good household elixirs. Now, before I bilge upon any specifics, I have a interesting real-world case study on one particular individual whose luck, that is to say, was of lesser  abundance if you could take his trustworthy nature into account. To keep it simple, “Bobnick,” as I have decidedly called him, was somewhere between six or seven years of age and had virtually no understanding of the horrid amalgamations of which blender is capable. Cycling back through my memories, I recall a cruel porridge of bananas, pop-rocks, club soda, dried onion, Tabasco, A1, P, B, J,  Ka-Boom Cereal marshmallows and various sprinklings of pork products both cooked, or uncooked. Without question to the taste, color, or sincere lack of artistry, the palate-profile of this mixture has been left strictly unrecorded. Bobnick, whose blue-eyed, unfrowning countenance---of well-bridged, rosy cheekbones---lovingly lifted this sordid punch promptly to his mouth with two hands and gulped it back with an expression shrouded by a wide glass pitcher. In the meantime, his brother and teenage counterpart laughingly exchanged several exclamations. However, this gaggle of untimely hazing rites and boyish hollering could not drown the devilish hurls and spits that ensued as poor Bobnick roared with a brand of anger and sickness unbecoming to an adolescent. The foul drink was promptly named “Crud” which stigmatized the poor boy even further; because now, this title adhered to Bobnick who, like all of us, are constituted by what we ingest. Therefore, he was no longer treated to his own namesake, but always referred to as the one thing he probably loathed the most.  

Somewhere, at some point, I heard he became a successful bartender. That is not to say by contrast, we

Absolut Mango

should beware of all persons with a knack for concoctions, but you should really question anyone who acts as a dispensary agent. I would say it is mandatory once in awhile, to realize the potential of cocktails from loved-ones; yes, a drink with a hearth-driven quality that you can ensure has no bouillon, or the flotillas of bacon therein. In production, I don’t necessarily recommend a brother, sister, or an optimistically comical uncle, but maybe your spouse will do just fine. I speak from experience, but I am not offering marital advice. Honestly, this is not some half-serious attempt at rekindling the firebrand nature of couples rejoicing through their unsobering nightlife. This is by far, the chance to release oneself from the burden of soapy, earthy, diluted, or otherwise boring mixers.

The one love that I would stake all my afterlives upon, is actually a damn-fine mixologist. She, unlike a post-grad tender of drinks, has an impassioned view of a discipline that’s never outshined by extracurricular drinking. One of her homemade pleasantries are something of a hazy azure, mottled by shades of lavender and several pinks. I’m only referring to what I have so aptly called a “Huckleberry Hatskein” which, if you’ve thought it out carefully, is like wearing a make-believe chapeau dotted with blueberries. Of course, I see no difference between the two bluish fruits, you must understand now what I‘ve done here. The process is simple: Combine one pint of blueberries, a proportioned volume of lemonade and any reasonable parts of  Absolut Mango Vodka. Secondly, transfer to a food processor, or blender, then purée the mixture and strain twice through a metal sieve, emptying the final contents into a glass pitcher. Let it stand  refrigerated for twenty-to-thirty minutes and if desired, add more lemonade if mixture is too strong. Serve over ice and watch tacos entrenched in Piscean marvels and jalapeno slaws course through the gastronomical byways. I realize that the effect of a mango may have lost some application; but if you’re miffed about it, there’s always a fresher fruit around, so start picking elsewhere.

You could always use Açai berry vodka from Absolut  as well, which could host a tart, but juicier exposition than common fruits d’azur, but that’s an idea I’ll leave to an open forum; more notably, this lonely blogsite. What I would recommend, is not being a slapdash chemist in the middle of an unimaginative summer. There’s a whole lot of booze to experiment with, so much in fact, that you couldn’t possibly recreate the same whimsies and joys by tampering with white wine. Or, like ascribing from what the martyr “Bobnick” has told us, have someone you really, truly, amiably love so much, to make refreshments that won’t leave you with painful recollections, or the burden of a passing ruse.    

My fiancé is always thinking of me...she starts by pouring heartfelt thoughts into every glass.

-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

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