"Hey! Welcome! We're all having Pisco Sours. I'll make you one!" As the offer floated from her vocal cords, through the air, and bounced into his ears his mouth slowly opened and he pushed out a barely audible "okay." But it wasn't okay. He hated Pisco Sours.
He didn't only hate Pisco . . .
He shut the door, and for the first time of the day experienced complete silence. The morning started with a car alarm that woke him minutes before his trusty clock radio clicked on: "It's a cold one today Chicago. Make sure you bundle up out there. In other news..."
Looking in the mirror, he pulled an . . .
It was foolish of him to think that the rest of the month would be like this. It was a rare and beautiful sunny April day in Chicago. The light from the slow setting sun made him squint while walking home to his apartment.
His sunglasses were still tucked in a bag from a quick trip he took last month down South to research . . .
People love personalization-- something made just for them. An article in The Wall Street Journal a few days ago talked about that exact thing. As you know, companies use your data to figure out what you like. Now they are making custom mixes of stuff like shampoo, vitamins, and health drinks for people based on their preferences. . . .
Cutting back and moving forward
A few days ago an interesting article came through my inbox that I had to run through Google Translate. Last week, French health officials warned the people of France to cut back on their wine consumption.
New benchmarks for alcohol consumption:
Maximum of 10 glasses per week,
Maximum 2 glasses a day,
. . .
You can get a bittered sling at any bar in town
Most of the cocktails I make are incorrect in terms of bartending books, the mixologists at the snooty bar down the street, and the social media glamour bar coalition of Instagram. There are lots of opinionated drinkers out there with strong drinking beliefs. It seems that everything has a specific way to do it down to making simple . . .
While walking home, he was thinking about what to have for cocktail hour. He knew the fridge contained two fresh bottles of sweet and dry vermouth. A splash of either stirred with a heavy pour of gin would undoubtedly do the trick.
He walked into the apartment and hung up his coat before looking over the bar cart that . . .