In Good Spirits, April 8th

Over the years, my taste for alcohol has changed. I had my first few tipples of forbidden liquids in the form of Whiskey and Apricot Sours at Bat and Bar Mitzvahs from very liberal Aunts and Uncles that thought it was funny to let the youngsters sip from their glasses, but I was more than happy to stick with my tried-and-true Shirley Temple with extra Maraschino cherries. My Grandmother’s drink of choice was a White Russian— the classic three-ingredient cocktail that combines vodka, Kahlúa and cream. Needless to say that Cousin Ronald’s Bar Mitzvah was a night I’ll never forget thanks to Grandma and a precarious game of Coke and Pepsi! (See Liquor.com’s gorgeous version below.)

In high school I made the switch to Bartles & Jaymes— long live the 80s with Blackberry, Peach, and Fiesta Strawberry Wine Coolers. This affinity didn’t serve me well when the cops showed up at Margie’s party before school one sunny senior morning (that sucked!) or during Senior Hat Day when I foolishly filled my pink plastic hard hat with actual wine coolers instead of mocktails. (The suspension and loss of my senior parking space certainly taught me a lesson. For an honor student I was so stupid!)

On family vacations in Mexico, my sister and I were beyond their legal drinking age, so we indulged in Pina Coladas, Banana Daiquiris, and fruity mixed drinks called Cabanas. I don’t think they had much alcohol in them at all, so we learned how to make Bang Bangs (also called Tequila Poppers) instead. Using a tall shot glass filled with half tequila and half 7-Up, the method was to cover the glass with a napkin, bang it twice against the table, and then shoot it fast when it foamed up. Now those…those certainly worked, especially at Le Dome on Thursday nights and on New Year’s Eve.

I spent a summer as a server for Friday’s restaurant on 94th and Second Avenue on the Upper East Side. (Yep, I had the red stripes going and the crazy buttons on my shirt back then.) My friend Matt was the bartender and he “accidentally” made Oreo Cookie Express drinks at least once a week that ended up on the waitress station. (They were those slurpy vanilla milkshake numbers with crushed cookies and rum– thanks, Matty!) College was mostly sour tasting beer (I found Rolling Rock to be the least offensive), or shots of Jägermeister (so smooth!), except on nights when we hit Fat Tuesday for frozen drinks from their famous whirly machines. (Photo courtesy of Eater.)

And speaking of Mardi Gras, we went one year to New Orleans to participate and I’ll never forget that all shot bar called The Sitting Duck where I drank a Flaming Purple Jesus that burned my mouth, throat and insides so badly that I was rendered speechless for the rest of the night. As a full-fledged adult, I remember going to my friend Doug’s apartment with a small crowd and he’d mix up pitchers of spicy Bloody Marys using Clamato juice and lots of celery. (Thanks to crowdedkitchen.com for their toppings-heavy Bloody photo.)

Now my tastes skew more toward an occasional glass of Prosecco or a refreshing Moscow Mule. I know lots of my friends are enjoying the hell out of pandemic happy hours that start promptly at 5pm each day in their respective living rooms. Cheers to all of you, friends. My son, now legally allowed to drink himself, is certainly enjoying his senior year as a contributing member of the over 21 club too, and I can just see him raising a glass!

Whatever your cocktail of choice, please drink responsibly, and by no means should you bring alcohol to my old high school. Salut!