I've been out and about lately, seeing bands, hanging out at shows, and generally doing the whole music thing. Except for the big Style Weekly music event--I couldn't go to that. But that's okay. I'm down with the scene, you know? I don't have to go to every single show. I wear my hipster cool inside, where it counts, if you know what I mean.
So, I haven't really been thinking as much about food as I have about drinking. Bars and bands seem to go together like seared foie gras on toast points, and cocktails are more germane to this particular discussion re: my fabulously cool night life.
The first cocktail up for assessment is the humble rum and coke. I chose this particular drink in honor of the Jonas Brothers, the first band I found myself seeing. I was accompanied by my awesomely hip daughters, age twelve and nine, and because I love them (my daughters, that it) very, very, very, very, very, very, very,very, very much, I was able to withstand nearly two hours of nine thousand girls' constant, high-pitched screaming, despite the fact that NO rum was available. I fortunately recognized most of the songs because the CD has been on shuffle and repeat in the car for months, and because the Jonas Brothers, in a seriously smart marketing move, like to sing covers of songs mothers remember from when they were young (you should have heard the collective sigh and seen the significant glances among the older set when they launched into A-Ha's "Take on Me."
Like heartthrobs since time immemorial, the boys are all androgynously adorable (except for that one with the creepy sideburns), and even better, during one of the three costume changes they made, the cutest one of all strutted out in what looked like a Shaun Cassidy-esque skintight white suit. I know, because I was there with my sister when sweet Shaun catapulted through a paper drum-type thing, lo these many years ago, on the very same stage! The only difference was that while back in the seventies my mother (as did every other mother in town) dropped my sister and me off for the show, I
was forced was happy to attend with my daughters.
Compare and contrast, people, compare and contrast.
Although I wasn't drinking yet when I saw the lovely Shaun, I did have a hankering, after the Jonas Bros. show-- possibly as I was leaving the parking lot--for something from that decade of my life. When I finally got my first taste of alcohol back in the old days, my friends and I had a preference for rum, particularly the rum my friend Jackie stole from her parents. In order to disguise it, she stored it in a rinsed-out Vidal Sassoon shampoo bottle. If any of you have used this shampoo, you might recall that it has (or had) a vague, almond-y fragrance. Therefore, all of the cocktails we would drink (underage, in a plastic school cup), would also taste faintly of almonds (and soap). The coke mixer couldn't quite kill the flavor, although it came mighty close.
I like that little extra almond kick, however, so in what I laughably call a recipe below, I recommend splashing a little amaretto in the glass first, swirling it around, and then dumping it out, like you would if you were making a dryish martini. I also advocate a strong rum to coke ratio, because sometimes you just have to be true to your past. Even though the thought of your own daughter doing the same thing at the same age chills you to the very depths of your soul.
Blast from the Past Rum and Coke
- Splash of amaretto
- 2 to 2 1/2 ounces white rum
- Coca-Cola, to taste
Coat the inside of your glass with the amaretto and dump the excess into the sink. Add ice, rum, and coke. Wax nostalgic. Repeat.
NEXT TIME: Spoon and the joy of hanging out with people my own age (sort of) . . .