You are a delightful young man. I know I don’t tell you this often enough. You are such a treat! Your bon mots, your waggish charm, your irresisitable little-girl eyes. Most of all, your rapacious lust for life, with appetites as wide-ranging as the great plains of Middle America itself — God’s country.
I have a few guests over this evening and we’re listening to some smooth beats from Cologne, Germany. The weather has turned so I am sporting my wool Brioni, but I decided to mix things up a little by swapping my usual paisley four-in-hand for a gently jocular silk cravat — the wife was scandalized!
But all the horsefeathers w/r/t tonight’s look greatly impinged on my cooking time, so I had to trim the planned menu to just slow-roasted heirloom beets, a grilled and shaved fennel bulb, melted cipollini onion rings, a soft-boiled Jidori hen egg, cumin-scented eggplant, herb-roasted saddle of Elysian Fields Farm lamb, and some feuillantine au caramel to send Samuel and Mindy home happy.
And to drink? You already know the answer, silly — nothing but Dry Soda will suffice. Its delicate, sophisticated taste complements any fine meal, although tonight I’m serving Lavender because its floral tones and low acidity work especially well with the evening’s repast. But I recommend Lemongrass for your next sushi get-together (kanpai!), Rhubarb as our palates become more wintry and we begin to crave heartier fare, and Kumquat for those lazy afternoons when you just want to kick off your Topsiders and nosh on some scalloped oysters.
Later tonight, however, when the cravats are loosened, when Mindy and the wife are flushed from a rowdy game of euchre, when the bowl of car keys is prepared — then it shall be time for my secret concoction called the Desperate Hours. This is where Dry Soda truly shines. I’ll share the recipe with you only because you are so very dear to me:
1 part Dry Soda (any flavor)
1 part Liquid Banjo thrice run through a Brita
1 part 3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine