It was Friday last, when I found my-
self in a bustling port city, south
of Washington - the very harbor, now
that I think of it, where the Monitor
met the Merrimack, and also many Af-
ricans their new terrain. Yet all of
that seemed well washed away, in the
copious splashing of hooch upon the
wharves, where eddies of Mercedes al-
so swirled, of romance by injection.
To a corner doorway, then, I ventured
for reflection in a glass. As with so
many chances taken in this region -
the American South, that is - the im-
manence of God is not slow to be re-
revealed. Not in just any of the de-
tails, as Mies had once implied, but
exquisitely in the mistakes.
So pleased by the impressions of my
cocktail, I found myself asking the
barkeep to divulge its secrets. And
this he did with such meticulous care
in every dimension, even in penman-
ship, that one could find the hand
of our Lord drawing one's own, down
his roster of ingredients and tech-
niques, to that very blaze of rev-
elation for which the region is so
celebrated.
Bombay Sapphire, 2.0 oz.
Dolin vermouth, 0.75 oz.
Saint-Germain, 0.25 oz.
orange bitters, 2 dashes
stir for 30 seconds
strain into chilled glass
garish w/lemon peel
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