As mentioned more than once lately, LL&B is my equivalent to the 1957 clink of highballs. I come home; I loosen my tie (fling off my bra); I peck the wife on the cheek (grunt dramatically in the direction of my husband's computer); I sit down on the sofa and stretch my legs a bit (flop across the end, waving around liberated but smelly feet); and I smile as I gratefully take the cocktail (make a low orcish noise while grabbing at the lemon, lime, and bitters) from my dear spouse.
But sometimes, it is late and Mike is asleep and I must be my own barkeep. You would think the person who HTMLized the original Internet Bartender's Guide, who used to invent drinks based around Twinkies and root beer then give them their own web pages, who co-authored the Mille Bornes drinking game - you would think this person could mix a simple lemon, lime, and bitters.
Alas, I can't. I always get too much of something and not enough of another and I start feeling sorry for myself, staring at the pathetic off-colour fizz I've placed on the endtable, sad that no one is awake to make me this spectacular drink. That may sound immature, but I think the fact that I don't wake anyone up to mix it properly is a testament to my serene wisdom and patience.
I'd like to show you a picture of a good LL&B, expertly crafted by Mike, but that would mean stopping the sipping in order to take photos. I can't do that. Instead, you get a photo of the empty glass of satisfaction:
Note that Snowman Mickey and Snowman Pooh are decorating the television. It's like Frankenmuth in here!
Here is the recipe:
- Place 3-4 ice shards in a glass. You know, the crescenty ones.
- Or don't. This may be where I mess up, come to think of it.
- Pour yay-much of Rose's Lime Cordial into the glass. Like, an inch? No, a bit more. Or less, if drinking from a pail. (This is Vegas. I can't make assumptions.)
- Shake in some Angostura bitters a few times. Not too much, but more than you'd think. Make sure they're the Angostura bitters from the House of Angostura, and not the Angostura bitters that have angostura bark in them so knockoffs can get away with using the word "Angostura" on the label.
- Fill to top with "lemonade," aka what other countries call Sprite, 7Up, Sierra Mist (Mike says this isn't sharp enough), or - ideally - a lemon-lime soda with cane sugar. Don't pour too slowly as you do want a bit of a head, but not too much of a head.
- Garnish with slices of lime. If you're like me, you always ignore garnishing suggestions, but I'm telling you, these lime slices need to happen. It makes a huge difference.
You should end up with something of a medium rose shade that is sweet and tart but also edgy yet staid and nicely bubbly. Maybe you will serve it nicely in a pilsner glass that was free from South Coast casino, as Mike does. You should not end up with a weak mess thrown together, as I do it:
Important sights to note or squint at in that picture:
- dusty, misbehaving wireless router
- Freakonomics from library
- some MasterCard class action suit notice being used as a bookmark
- plain walls that would've benefited from white balancing the camera first (true also for first photo)
- stack of MyCokeRewards codes that I can't get around to entering, and then on Saturday I found out that the ones I entered a few months ago all expired, and now I'm too cross to enter any more codes but too cheap to throw them out... yet.
- remote that I keep by me to prevent another marathon viewing of the last Split Enz tour on DVD (as much as I genuinely enjoy the band...)
- the neverending French postcards
I think Mike needs to star in a YouTube series of "Things I Can Do Really Well." It could include:
- making LL&B
- pronouncing "dawn" and "don" with different vowels
- articulating everything that's wrong with a judge saying a 10-year-old girl probably asked to be gang-raped by nine men, and therefore not sentencing them to more than probation
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