In Praise of Drinking
In an era of ever-increasing sobriety, I’m an enthusiastic yes for cocktails.
I love a perfect old fashioned. In an age where seemingly everyone is proclaiming their sobriety — and in a town where legal weed in its myriad of smokable and edible forms seems the socially acceptable drug of choice — I’m going to take a controversial stance and proclaim my love of a cocktail, or two.
I adore the sting of the bourbon, the sweetness of the simple syrup and the soused cherry surrounding a giant single cube of ice, creating the perfect sippable adult confection. As I savor each swallow, I feel tensions ease and a sense of joy emerge. It’s a buoyant, easily accessible lift, a social lubricant, a celebratory sip. I can’t help but love it.
I’m lucky. I prefer to partake moderately and only occasionally, just a few times per month. I don’t crave it other times; I rarely drink it alone. I’m not prone to addiction.
These days, and especially at my age, I’m starting to feel like an anomaly. Yet here I am, past 50 and still a fan of the sassy sauce. Some of my very best memories have taken place while under its influence. I can’t be sad about that.
I crave craft cocktails on a first date. My preference is bourbon-based drinks, with a predilection for precious crafty…
