Don’t look at me – I didn’t name the damn thing.
We frequently amuse the hell out of the waitstaff at restaurants. When we’re not amusing them, I’m sure we give them cause to wonder if they should be calling for the men in the little white coats.
When we were eating dinner at the House of Blues Friday night, the waiter brought our seriously watered down cocktails in some freakish looking novelty glasses, and said:
“Here – these should keep the undesirables away!”
To which Beloved replied:
“But you’ll be back – right?”
The man is deadly with a one-liner. (Well, of course he is – my two unconditional requirements for men are that they walk upright and have opposable thumbs have a wicked sense of humor and a brain.)
Anyhoo, while at the Flying Fig Saturday night, we were perusing the cocktail menu as we are wont to do, and I picked out this one. I don’t remember the name of the cocktail Beloved got, but let’s just say that after one sip of each, we were frantically searching for a scrap of paper and a pen so we could write down the ingredients for each, while the waitstaff looked at us as if we’d lost our minds (it didn’t hurt that I hounded our waiter – poor, humorless soul that he was – for the recipe for the Lemon Ricotta Fritters we had for dessert). Sunday evening we discovered they weren’t so hard to recreate.
Bora Bora Martini
2 shots of vanilla vodka
1/2 shot Dissaronno or other amaretto
1/2 shot pineapple juice
splash of cranberry juice
Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker with a couple of cubes of ice. Shake vigorously; strain into chilled martini glass and serve.