6 posts tagged “vodka”
My wife's reaction to this was, "Boy, you could get all the ladies with this drink."
The base is either lemonade or lemon-lime soda (I've used both.)
Then two or four shots of vodka depending on the quality of the day.
Add cranberry-strawberry juice cocktail until the color is about right.
A squirt of concentrated lime juice.
Then squeeze an orange into the drink, reserving one slice for garnish.
Inspired by the tornadoes sweeping around us last night, I put two shots of vodka into six shots pineapple juice and diced up a quarter of an Granny Smith apple that the daughters hadn't finished eating with their dinner.
I'm sure that any 1/4 apple would have done.
Just eat the other 3/4 yourself.
Worked beautifully to soothe the nerves, as we huddled in a closet under the stairs with our flashlights.
The wife and I open the door with the little jingly bell on it, hop over the raised doorway lip (truely wicked) and stroll into the local boozeria.
She is quickly dazzled by naughty labeled wines and lost to the brightly neon corner of the shop to giggle.
I press on, to the furthest darkest back corner.
Man-country, where they keep the whiskeys and bourbon.
Old Charter is a new addition for this shop. (I've read it's part of the Buffalo Trace Distillery, Lexington, KY.)
They have a puzzling variety of vintage; 1 year, 3 year, 5 year, 8 year, 10 year and 12 year.
Not to be overcome with indecision, I grasp the 12 year (90 proof) and emerge back to the fluorescent light of the cash register.
On the way, I do the wife a favor and grab a big ol' tear-drop bottle of Rain vodka. Lovely container, organic contents.
The kind of vodka that doesn't need to hide behind flavorings, mixers, or additives.
The wife won't buy it for herself, because it makes her feel guilty to buy anything but Popov.
On the other hand, I have every incentive to buy her good vodka because well...
The old man behind the counter is restocking the hip/boot size bottles and doesn't notice my arrival.
I clear my throat.
Nothing.
I set the bottles down again, jingling them together a bit. Clink, clink, nothing.
Right about here, lizard-brain is telling me to just side-step back on out through the door to the car with my prizes.
The wife walks up.
Just then, old man turns around and jumps with a start, "Will that be all then?"
Yeah, she was wearing one of her boobie shirts.
Old man's still got the radar.
Wife looks at the receipt in the car, "Did you really need the 12 year?"
"Well yeah. I've never had Old Charter before."
"So?" she says
"Here's the thing, if I started off by trying the younger stuff, each bottle would have been cheaper, true, but might have been more expensive overall."
"Huh?" she says.
"Look, if I try the one year, and it sucks, I would think, well, maybe the three year would be better, so then I buy that, and if it sucks, I might think, well maybe the five year is better and so on, until I end up buying the twelve year old anyway. So, this way, I start off with the twelve year old. If it sucks, I don't need to try any of the others because this is as good as it's going to get. If I do like it, I can always downgrade until I find the one that's too young, then go back up just one notch from then on."
"You way over-analyze your booze, but thanks for the vodka."
"Anytime. Anytime."
This was an impulse buy.
A compulsion really.
I simply had to.
It's like a Red Bull and vodka drink, pre-mixed for you in the convenient can.
Granted, the ABV, at 6%, is lower than any RBV I've ever seen mixed, but it still allows for the strange and oddly attractive mix of physical responses to the alcohol combined with various stimulants.
Also note that I did not feel in any way that it was being presented or marketed to minors as I've already heard some pundits bandy about.
At least, not effectively. The Anheuser-Busch folks might have been trying, but my take is that they failed horribly.
If you want to see marketing to minors, look no further than Jack Daniel's line of malt beverages including "Watermelon Spike", "Downhome Punch", and "Lynchburg Lemonade".
All of which seem formulated to taste like various Jolly Rancher's hard candy.
All of which have been around for a long time.
At least since I was a minor, I can tell you that much (ahem.)
And don't get me started on Boone's Farm wines...
Seriously, don't let me start, I nearly lost a semester that way.
- Wake, sort of
- Sheets pulling me back under like water lapping at a drowning man.
- Pillows at least a half-mile deep.
- Sunrise, walking the dogs, orange light, dewy grass
- Note that the dogs have gotten into a diaper somewhere, visual data from their droppings
- Shower, warm, borderline hot, needling; and smelling ever so slightly of mold
- Mental note to confer with property management agent.
- Kids, where the hell are the kids? Bed, a yes, awake but not in trouble.
- Shave, note blade slightly rusty... slightly? It is or it isn't. It is. Must find replacements in box somewhere.
- Coffee, java, espresso... life. Christopher Bean Tiramisu beans. Hot steam under pressure, voila.
- Kids, where the hell are the kids? Ah, breakfast table, eating cereal, mostly neatly.
- PC to check traffic for wife's commute. Suggest alternate route. Avoid congestion = faster = happy.
- Sausage. Squished medallions of porcine yumminess emitting greasy smoke. Crisp and unburned.
- Kids, where the hell have I put the kids? Oh, TV, Noggin, to make smart kids who are active, by sitting on their asses. Actually very active today. Lots of play in the dogs crates. The pups yield the field with valor.
- Drag pool off patio into yard. Do battle with insects of extraordinary size. Extend hose. Fill pool.
- Cuppy and a nap in crib for youngest.
- Eldest spots pool. Much whining.
- Eldest changed into swimsuit. Much splashing.
- Sunny. Warm. Chair. Footrest. Backyard. Pool. Daughter giggle. Tanning. Beer.
- Where the hell are the kids? Ah, lunch. Dry one off, dress, table, peanut butter toast in the face. Wake other up, dry off bum, change diaper, reapply clothes, table/high-chair, peanut butter toast, on the face and the hair, and the floor, to the puppies.
- Pool, splashing, two daughters giggling, warm, sun, chair, footrest, tanning, beer.
- Tired tantrums. Nap for one. Quiet puzzle time for two. Microwave, processed-cheese on tortilla chip rounds Nachos for me. Lookie, BBC America, and Discovery Science Channel and way too many others to ever flip through.
- PC time with the eldest. Lots of Nick, Jr games.
- Checking on wife's commute home, suggest alternate route, ignored.
- Wife stuck in traffic, finally aborts and attempts suggested route.
- Dinner, sirloin tip under the broiler, finished with blue cheese, bovine bliss.
- Music and dancing and craziness on the coffee table and lots of shoulder rides and tummy-floor-swing-rocker rides.
- Kids asleep, nightlights on. Grown-ups on the patio with matches and marble, and green faeries dancing with the fireflies in the treeline down the hill along the creek.
- Sweet tea and vodka.
- Marital aerobics.
- Oblivion.
I propose a new named sandwich.
The "Neutered Groove"
Apologies if this list of arranged ingredients already exists under another sandwich moniker.
It's not that I will desist, mind you.
I just want to be clear that it has now been dispossessed of its ingredients and will need to find new ones should it wish to go forward as a named sandwich, or risk being de-listed from the sandwich board exchange.
A "Neutered Groove" consists of:
Two slices of bread, any bread, I usually go wholewheat.
Onions slices and tomato slices, one or two of each.
A spring mix of various salad leafy greens and reds.
Two slices of pepper jack cheese, otherwise known as Monterey Jack with Jalapeno bits incorporated.
Seven deli-thin slices of hickory smoked ham.
Two slices of hard salami.
Point zero eight ounce, approximately, crushed ripe black olives.
One squirt ketchup.
One squirt mustard.
One shot glass.
One bottle of tequila.
One bottle of vodka.
4 albums of music:
A) Gas Huffer - "One Inch Masters"
B) Claw Hammer - "Thank The Holder Uppers"
C) Mercury Rev - "Boces"
D) Col. Bruce Hampton & The Aquarium Rescue Unit - "Self-titled"
Assembly instructions required to qualify as an official "Neutered Groove":
Begin playing the music in the order listed from albums A - D.
Do not shuffle.
Play straight through.
Drizzle the bread with Jose Quervo Black Medallion Tequila.
Butter one side liberally and place in a pan on medium heat (butter-side down.)
Place the one of the two cheese slices on top of the bread.
Simmer the onion/tomato slices in vodka until soft.
Add one of the two slices of hard salami on top of the cheese and bread.
Add all seven deli slices of ham on top of the salami, cheese, and bread.
Add squirt of mustard on ham, salami, cheese, and bread.
Add the leafy greens on top of the mustard, ham, salami, cheese, and bread.
Add the onions/tomato on top of the leafy greeens, mustard, ham, salami, cheese, and bread.
Add the second slice of hard salami on top of the onion/tomato, leafy greens, mustard, ham, other salami, cheese and bread.
Add squirt of ketchup on second slice of hard salami, onion/tomato, leafy greens, mustard, ham, other salami, cheese, and bread.
Add the second slice of cheese on top of the ketchup, second salami, onion/tomato, leafy greens, mustard, ham, other salami, other cheese, and bread.
Add the crushed olives on the second cheese slice, ketchup, second salami, onion/tomato, leafy greens, mustard, ham, other salami, other cheese, and bread.
Add second slice of tequila drizzled bread on second slice of cheese, ketchup, second salami, onion/tomato slices, leafy greens, mustard, ham, other salami, other cheese slice, and bread.
Compress the stack with a large spatula flipper, butter the top slice of bread, and flip the arrangement, ass over tea kettle.
Now, and this bit is truely make or break, do exactly three shots of vodka, and three shots of tequila.
By the time you're done, the bottom side of the sandwich will be golden buttery brown and you'll be in a state fully capable of appreciating this culinary delinquent.
Now, sit in a comfy chair, turn down the lights, eat the sandwich, and let what remains of the play list finish out.
Your groove will be neutered.
