Bloody Marys at dawn–or not

Or where you drink it, perhaps.

Or where you drink it, perhaps.

There are, despite appearances, a few advantages that come with getting older to offset the unavoidable consequence of getting closer to death, one of which is how your tastes can shift meaning that certain cocktails which didn’t previously appeal suddenly start to: such as a Bloody Mary.

When I was in the military, Bloody Marys were all the rage in the Officers’ Mess, but I could never get into the unusual, distinctive mix:

2 msr vodka

5 msr tomato juice

1/2 teaspoon lemon juice

2 dashes Worcestershire sauce

4 drops Tabasco sauce

1 pinch celery salt

1 small pinch black pepper

Garnish: short celery stem with leaves

But nowadays, I’ve developed a taste enough for it that I’ve started to make a date of a Saturday morning to head to Austin’s finest Mexican restaurant and sanctuary for freelance journalists,  Cisco’s, to meet with others, primarily fellow British refugees, for breakfast accompanied by Bloody Marys.

The only problem with this strategy, as I found this Saturday gone, is made apparent by arriving to find that everyone has bailed and can’t make it, and to then have the wait staff  inform you they’ve run out of vodka.

Bloody hell was the least of expletives that came to mind.

(Note: If 1 msr of gold tequila is added to the usual mix it becomes a Deadly Mary and which I’ve yet to try: might be tough to get through the rest of the morning after a couple of those. )

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