08-011
THE
JAYWALK RECIPE
Who knew, when I did her some trivial favor,
that Aunt Emma would say thank you with some peculiar gift? Well, yes, I should
have known. She always
does that.
When my tee-total maiden aunt gives a gift
of liquor, she's a price tag connoisseur; the higher the price, the better it must
be, she reasons. Hence the
most expensive bottle of vodka I've ever
seen (you too, I'll bet).
After a day of excruciating ennui, I was
ready to explore Emma's "Old Full Sail Vodka" (honesty required me to
read that as "Old Fool Sale Vodka"). The picture on the label was a full-rigged
sailing ship heading into a horizon glowing with golden and rosy colors. Sunset,
no doubt. Not sunrise. Vodka ends your day, one way or another.
It's normally an unpretentious drink, but
this bottle came with literature. One packet contained cocktail recipes and two
small envelopes of pills. Another packet contained an invitation to enter their
contest for the most eloquent testimonial to any of their recipes.
Sly Aunt Emma ! She knows that this writer
must enter that contest. She calls it ego; I call it justified confidence in my
skills. Worse, she's foisted this thing off on me, savoring the day when she will
ask me if I won. What a nefarious way to drive a nephew to drink ! Perhaps only
a boozer could win; hence the winner had to be a loser !
I poured a small glass of the stuff, just
to pass the time while I read the recipes. Add one of their green "JB"
pills to this vodka and it became gin (JB for juniper berries, perhaps ?). Add one
of their brown "M" pills and the stuff became rum (M for molasses, perhaps
?). Then one followed a traditional recipe for vodka, gin, or rum.
My glass had gone empty. I poured a second
glass and added a JB pill. It just sat on the bottom. Alone and lacking a swizzle
stick, I mashed and stirred the pill with an index finger. It tasted rather like
gin (the finger as well as the drink).
Suddenly, the glass was empty again. I poured
a third drink and added one of those nice brown M pills, giving my other index finger
its fair turn at mashing and stirring (I'm ambidextrous, but couldn't think of that
word just then). It did rather taste like rum (the finger as well as the drink).
Suddenly, it seemed as if my head had blown
off and was floating around the ceiling. Not good. Felt a need to do something about
that.
Connoisseurs know that a long, brisk walk
can help. The walk should include no highway crossings. Highway crossings are bad.
Screeching brakes, blaring horns, cars up on the sidewalk, cursing drivers, and
such. Damned drivers needed arresting for disturbing the peace. Police took the
easy way and arrested me for jaywalking !
Thank you very much, Aunt Emma !