A few weeks ago in a conversation with my mother on the telephone, she described a cocktail she read about in the newspaper a few days prior.
“Mom. Do you realize that you might be one of the few people remaining on planet earth who still read a newspaper?”
“I don’t care. I like my paper. But I can’t remember what was in the drink. It was called The Stinger. I think it had 1.5 oz of tequila, 1 oz of brandy, 3/4 oz of cointreau and 3/4 oz of lemon juice in it. I can’t remember though. I’ll need to dig the paper out of the trash and send it to you.”
“Mom. You just recited the entire contents of that cocktail to me. I think you recalled it just fine.”
My mental hard drive must have released some space that morning, because I remembered the proportions and made one for myself last weekend. I asked Mr. Musky if he wanted one, and he declined. But he requested a sip of mine.
“Yum. I’ll take one.”
“Seriously?! I just put everything away!”
“Well sometimes tequila’s just good, you know?”
And I do. It took me a long time to rid myself of the horrors of collegiate tequila, but sometimes it is a nice change of pace. Particularly when mixed with brandy, a little sweet (orange liqueur), and a little tart (lemon juice). …