May 28th, 2009
OK, fellow imbibers, let’s pretend we’re at a group-therapy session. Let’s clear the air, shed our intellectual armor, spill some secrets. You know what I mean: talk about the embarrassing crap we used to drink before we discovered “real” cocktails, before we knew what Punt E Mes was, before we started saying things like, “You can’t make a proper Aviation without Creme de Violette.” And if you really want to dangle your cred off a ledge, admit that you’re still fond of these youthful potions on occasion.
I’ll go first. Hi, my name is Lauren, and I used to drink dirty Bombay Sapphire martinis. Loved ’em. Go ahead and scoff at my faux sophistication, smartypants boozers, but this drink was truly my gateway to gin cocktails of all stripes. It’s been a few years since I’ve had a dirty martini, but lately I’ve been getting nostalgically thirsty for some olive brine in my juniper sauce.
And way back, before the taste of alcohol became desirable to me, I was all about taking my spirits in an envelope of cream and sugar. White Russians, Mudslides, that sort of thing. My mature self rolls its eyes at these boozy milkshakes, but my inner 21-year-old would suck one down in a heartbeat if no one was looking.
There. I feel so free now.