.
Do Bloody Marys count as cocktails? Or just ‘mixed drinks’. I love a good Bloody Mary. Well, they really don’t come in the singular, do they? Ian used to make wonderful jugs of the stuff, and we would sit on our balcony in the fading sun of the evening Côte d’azur, looking out at the village of St Paul de Vence … ah! Memories!
Do Bloody Marys count as cocktails? Or just ‘mixed drinks’. I love a good Bloody Mary. Well, they really don’t come in the singular, do they? Ian used to make wonderful jugs of the stuff, and we would sit on our balcony in the fading sun of the evening Côte d’azur, looking out at the village of St Paul de Vence … ah! Memories!
But looking-back
wasn’t the reason for the question. If they don’t count, I think I can say that
up to about age 64, I hadn’t really tasted what is referred to as ‘a cocktail’.
But then, I discovered them. In Berlin. I choose my places! And I have become,
late in life, a devotee.
My ‘master’ in the
art of cocktail was a Bayern Munich fan, Ollie Mansary, who also just happened
to be head cocktail honcho at the glorious Katz Orange restaurant, two wobbles
and a run from my Berlin flat. I and my friends tried the whole panoply of his
menu. But there was one drink that stood out … the ‘Gold Fashioned’. Many a one
have we sipped over Ollie’s bar …
I put cocktails
out of mind when I headed for Australia. It’s more a long-and-cold-drinks
country. But the other night young friend Harry and I tried a previously
unknown (to me) restaurant. It bears the incomprehensible name of ‘Fusion on
the Hill’. Well, it’s on the hill all right. But what’s this dumb expression
‘Fusion’? Who invented that?
Anyway,
Delightfully pretty spot with a nice open view over Yamba, run by the equally
delightful Sunny and Rams and … good grief! They serve cocktails. No just
Margaritas, but all sorts.
We had a splendid
meal, and tried the odd cocktail …
And that got me
nostalgic. So I told Sunny about the Gold Fashioned. And after Harry had helped
me down the slippery hill in the pouring rain, I dug up the recipe that Olli
had given me and I sent it to Sunny. I didn’t really think …
But 48 hours
later, when I turned up, again, on the hill … there was a pretty good approximation
of Olli’s masterpiece waiting for me! It wasn’t quite the same. Olli has a big
Laphroaig ice-block as the centre-piece to his glass, which takes some making.
But that was all that was missing! It was delicious … ‘Make it another
gold-fashioned, please’. Well, I had my grand dinner, paid the bill and then …
oh, just one more … wonderful, gutsy, wicked stuff …
Of course, what I
didn’t think of was, that, without the big ice-block, those drinks were strong,
strong, strong … I looked at the hillside, walking stick left at home, dark now
… and Sunny came to the rescue and
safely chauffeured me home!
Of course, I was
back 48 hours later (older and a touch wiser) for my best meal yet, and … hey, hurry
home, Harry, its Friday night and 5.30 … time to go up the hill again!
