I’m at present sitting in the eating place of my friend’s Red Hook apartment, at a stately and stunning walnut desk that has been sullied by the trappings of my “productivity” notebook, papers, textbooks I likely won’t get all over to looking through, a busted-but-still-operating set of headphones, crumpled receipts and a large, partly made use of sheath of paper towel—not even ripped at the perforated seam—that I refuse to throw absent in case I need it. My hair has the distinctive coif of the unwashed and matted. I’m putting on a long-sleeve New York Knicks shirt that my friend enable me borrow since the temperature has cooled a little bit, and I, of study course, even with the outsized Herschel monstrosity I brought with me on my vacation, managed to not pack in accordance with the weather’s routine to modify. It is a special edition shirt, he tells me. I nod dumbly. I know just practically nothing about sporting activities. I believed he was a Mets supporter.
Me and this plastic flamingo across the desk from me have been staring at each other for the previous 10 minutes. The stray observer could take note that the inanimate bird’s unblinking, dust-included oggly eye looks to be conveying a far more earnest expression than the living, respiration item of its gaze. The flamingo does not have a identify (that I am knowledgeable of), but it’s perched and leaning haphazardly in a capacious planter that is home to a huge and jovial Spathiphyllum named George.
George has been alive for fairly some time and has viewed some shit. The transfer to Crimson Hook from Carroll Gardens 13 a long time ago Hurricane Sandy the next-doorway neighbor who forgot to drinking water them while my friend was away for a few weeks in the center of summertime. Past evening, though Ida was raging its devastating and terrifying tirade throughout New York, George and the flamingo seemed nonplussed their existence unaltered. I could acquire a website page out of their book. In the meantime, now, the sunshine is shining, the sky is blue (the climate and its routine to improve), a auto just drove by with its speaker subs performing overtime potentially another cue for me value getting.
But although I, also, had the absurd fortune of staying still left typically on your own by Ida, I am not as unflappable as my table mates, or as rebounding as the outside. These days, I have a life hangover, and the fog of it is thick.
A Fog Cutter? How about a Fog-Dweller.
I’m confident most of you have listened to about the Fog Cutter: a Tiki cocktail staple invented by Trader Vic all-around Earth War II that floats product sherry on leading of an unyielding combination of citrus juice, orgeat, and three different liquors (typically white rum, brandy, and gin). But it would be uncouth and insincere (and exceed the allotted ingredients for this column) for me to feign any capacity to minimize by any form of fog. Blind leading the blind and all.
So in its place, here’s one more consume. Let’s contact it the Fog-Dweller. I haven’t experienced accessibility to a first rate aged agricole rhum in two decades, so I intend to get gain of it when I can. Same goes for the lovely pebble crushed ice that the bar next door is gracious ample to give me. My Red Hook host also happens to be the operator of just one of my most favourite tiki mugs, a discontinued lava cup that he simply cannot be persuaded to sell to me but will permit me use when I’m below. A consume composed of minor things that make me sense a very little much better.
Give if a check out, if you’d like:
- 1 ounce lime juice
- ½ ounce Giffard’s Apricot Liqueur (I must insist you use Giffard’s, as it is delightful)
- ¼ ounce cane syrup (or uncomplicated)
- 2 ounces aged Agricole rhum (I will not insist, but I highly suggest Rhum JM)
- Nutmeg for grating.
Put all the elements (except the nutmeg) into a tumbler, and give it a great swirl to incorporate the substances. Fill a tiki mug (or whatevs, work with what you’ve acquired) with crushed or cracked ice, and pressure a quarter of the liquid combination into it, then tamp down the ice with the base of the tumbler. (The liquid will melt the ice a little bit, developing extra place in the glass for you to obtain maximum crushed ice ability.)
Incorporate much more ice and strain the rest of the liquid into the ice-crammed glass. Best with a lot more ice, and then top rated with a generous dusting of freshly grated nutmeg. Make it snow—or fog—it will give the presentation some drama but also, it will aid solidify the tastiness.