Something To Chew On
April 22-28, 2019
By Becca Bona
Five o’clock somewhere …
“Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day …” – The Mamas and the Papas
A few weekends ago the boyfriend and I decided we were going to embrace spring by gardening. We made our way to Home Depot to grab a plant or two to adorn our porch and ended up with a fern, a couple of hanging petunias (one could describe the color as Merlot), a hibiscus, a palm frond, and a few hydrangeas.
(Before you start thinking about the fact that we might have gone slightly overboard just wait until I start detailing our next visit in which I plan to stuff our window boxes with sweet potato vine, impatiens, geraniums, begonias and zinnias – but that’s for another day.)
As soon as we loaded the last of our new plant babies in the car, the sky opened up and burst forth with enough rain to fill a small lake. We drove home cautiously, while I held onto the hibiscus for dear life, fearing it might fall over and crush a few buds.
Once we got home, I was able to pot a few of these lovelies on our covered porch. And as I worked – getting dirt and soil further into my fingernails and fingerprints all over my work-shirt – my boyfriend showed me a beautiful cocktail that could have been our far-gone sunshine itself at our local hangout – Rock Town Distillery. Called the Orange Creamsicle – the beauty had Rock Town Mandarin Vodka complete with heavy cream, orange juice, and simple syrup in it.
“Like those creamsicle cones I used to get from the ice cream truck!”
“Yeah, except these are more like grown-up versions,” my boyfriend added, chuckling.
We made plans then and there to go later to check out this delectable sounding drink. Fast forward six hours later and we were all tuckered out from our house chores. The next day proved ill for our trip to the distillery, but on Monday we were ready.
I was smacking my lips as we drove up to an empty parking lot and I heard my boyfriend mutter, “Uh-oh.”
Met with a closed-on-Monday situation, we hid our tails between our legs and slugged back home. On the way, though, we decided we’d try it ourselves. The distillery had shared the ingredients list and recipe via their post, so why not go for it in this digital DIY age?
Luckily Colonial Wine & Spirits had everything we needed – from the particular vodka of choice to the cherry on top (garnish, if you will) – a couple of brandied cherries.
I was practically bursting with excitement by the time we finally got to the kitchen. I rushed around, removing lids from various items, and trying my darnedest to set up my workspace like a true mixologist.
Of course, this is how we separate the pros from the amateurs. (Or perhaps the pros from the DIY-attempters, even.)
I grabbed the cream, shook it vigorously – lid off – and made the biggest mess this side of Texas.
Also, as that first, extremely potent drink hit my taste buds, I discovered I have been wrong about what a true measure of an ounce is for essentially my entire life.
After a couple of attempts, however, we ended up with a perfectly solid drink. Was it as good as it would have been at Rock Town? Who knows. Next time I’ll make time to visit the professionals.
In the meantime I’ll be mopping the kitchen floor.