I had been able to observe that there was a sprightly sportsman behind the counter mixing things out of bottles and stirring them up in long glasses that seemed to have ice in them, and the urge came upon me to see more of this man.
P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Bertie novels are the stuff to make a Los Angeles commute mildly bearable. I finished reading Carry on, Jeeves last week and Bertie mentioned a certain drink. Me being me, the audiobook was paused and an internet quest for the libation ensued. Thanks to this Esquire article, I was better able to . . . fully experience the literature, let’s say. A Green Swizzle saved our Wooster from an awkward social situation and a drink like that simply cannot be ignored.
Still, rum would be my last choice as far as spirits go, and sugared cocktails get cannon fire by law. I need a drink with snap, a razor-sharp thing to keep me aloft through ribald evenings and terrible choices. I need a gin gimlet more often than not. But anyway I tripped to BevMo for crème de menthe because who has that lying around and I made the thing because books.
All in all, not bad. The rum did get in the way. And I may have added seltzer (effervescence!) post-shoot. But I could picture earnest Bertie fagged by his attempts to help the chumps he calls friends, desperate for an herbal tincture — a few deep swigs from a tall, frosted glass — and I thought, Really, he should have taken Jeeves’ advice about that tie.