Usually, I don’t like my bourbon mixed with anything besides ice cubes. However, I’m turning over a new leaf I like to call Learning to Embrace Inevitable Change, and it starts, I imagine, with baby steps like modifying your drink of choice.
For example, I recently tried the Beurre Noisette cocktail over at Noir. There, there, there, I said to myself after taking my first tentative sip, that wasn’t so bad, was it? No, it wasn’t. Apple cider, bourbon, Stoli Vanilla, BROWNED BUTTER? There is absolutely nothing wrong with that equation. I stood up on my chair and declared it to be my new favorite drink. (For the record, no one seemed to care.) But I was wrong. Dead wrong. The best cocktail ever is at Hungry Mother. The #2: Maker’s Mark, amaretto, sorghum syrup, and two boiled peanuts. Sounds gross, huh? ‘Tis not. I’m drunk and happy. And now I have to sit on this post at least overnight so I don’t find out later that I blogged about something incriminating.
And speaking of sorghum, I don’t really know what it is, but the fried cornbread at Hungry Mother was absolutely slathered in it. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s actually sweet liquid meth. Why don’t we hear more about this sorghum? I resolved to do some serious research, but, so far, it has consisted solely of the following conversation with my friend as we were exiting the restaurant after I had had perhaps one too many #2s:
Her: Isn’t sorghum like corn?
Me: I think it’s like corn, but not corn.
Her: Soy, then. Maybe it’s more like soy?
Me: No, I think it’s its own thing. Sorghum. Like that.
Me: Is this an okay place to throw up? (pointing to corner of restaurant)
Her: No, don’t...
Me: You’re right. That would be a waste.
Turns out sorghum is awesome. Can we grow it here in New England? Please?