My evening cocktail of choice is vodka on the rocks.
It wasn’t always this way. When I first became legal and could order a drink with my ID as collateral, I chose Pink Ladies. They were syrupy and smooth and pink; and I’m not sure anyone knows how to make them nowadays.
As time passed I graduated to Green Frogs, various wines, old fashioneds, lite beer, wine coolers, back to beer, and finally vodka. My vodka affection stems from 1992, when I attended a banquet with a friend. He had to work that evening, so I was on my own with a table full of guests I didn’t know. One of the gentlemen there asked what I’d like to drink, and out of the blue I said, “Vodka, please, with two limes.”
Don’t ask what possessed me, as I have never known. However, it’s been vodka, please, with two limes ever since.
I’m still no connoisseur, but as a general rule I order Absolut® in a restaurant because nobody can screw up that request. I often drink it at home too, although Michigan liquor prices are exorbitant; and whenever I resent paying them, I resort to less expensive stuff.
My neighbor, Clara, claims there is no difference between cut-rate priced Popov® and my beloved Absolut®. In fact, one night she invited me over for cocktails and offered a sampling of three vodkas, with crackers to eat in-between each test. I sipped them all, rolled each around in my mouth, and eventually proclaimed the one I believed to be Absolut®. When I looked under the cocktail glass to read what I’d really chosen, it said, “Popov®”
Which just supports my contention that I’m no connoisseur.
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