Tradition at the grandparents house is a cocktail at 5:00pm. Sometimes it might be a little early, but it is never late or skipped.
Ever.
It’s a tradition I try to take part in when I can. If I’m too tired or didn’t eat anything all day, then I definitely skip since I still have over an hour drive ahead of me. If I’m staying for dinner I do have one. But I don’t drink the whisky. Or rum. Or scotch. Or gin. I have to wuss out with a vodka something (of late, grapefruit juice has been pretty good). I just can’t drink the booze. Why?
I can’t get past the burn.
Into 2 rocks glasses with ice I pour in a generous shot of Jack Daniels for the g’rents. Topped with water, bottomed with a cocktail napkin. Into 1 more rocks glass I pour a sissy shot of vodka and finish with grapefruit juice or bloody mary mix.
As they down theirs, I sip mine, adding more mix as the level in the glass allows.
Wine? Oh yea, 2 bottles in a night is not a problem for me. Beer? I can keep up, don’t you worry. But booze? I can’t do it.
That’s not entirely true. I do enjoy a good tequila now and again, but we all know that I can’t have tequila if there is any travel involved. And a shot of Tuaca with an icy cold beer back is pretty keen on occasion too. I just can’t handle the hard stuff.
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