Throwing Up a Storm

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Our dear sistah in New Orleans, Cow Queen, sent us a wonderful new cookbook “Cooking Up a Storm.” It’s a collection put together by the New Orleans newspaper in response to Hurricane Katrina stricken readers who had lost recipes clipped out of the paper over the years. It’s a very clever idea; I think all cooks have a stack of clippings that they would hate to lose. I have a binder filled with them, some of them decades old that I’ve never made, but fully intend to one day, and others that I turn to time after time.

So we were leafing through the book and ran across a cocktail called The Bushwacker. Composed of ice cream and run and liqueurs, it sounded most enticing and it was. R Man and Urban Street Pirate and I ran up a blender full and then kept sending Pirate into the kitchen for another round. We finally stopped after four. The recipe had included a gay little caveat “Be careful, they go down easy!” How very true. Unfortunately, in my case, they also came up, perhaps not easily, but certainly spectacularly.

I threw up everything but my toenails. I was heaving things I had consumed during the Clinton administration. I puked things from another dimension, like a bad Star Trek episode.

Oh dear.

I mentioned in my earlier post about drinking Cosmos with the boys that I had gotten tipsy after one potent cocktail. Now it appears that not only can I not hold my liquor, I can’t even hold it down.

Fine, fine. I don’t care. If you want me, I’ll be right over here, back on the wagon, attempting to memorize the Ladies’ Temperance League’s Oath.

12 responses »

  1. Oh, I’ve had a variation of that drink many times….at Lafitte’s….and a variation of that… ummm…other “dimension” a few times too.I like your recipe:“Composed of ice cream and run and liqueurs…”“Run” indeed. Ingredient and result.

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  2. Oh, dear. Miss J NEVER blends the booze with the dairy. Always bad results. She is sorry Mr. P has had to learn the hard way.On a much happier note, Miss J has posted part one of her jail caper over at her place…

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  3. I’m all too familiar with the evils of this drink. We have the “Annual Bushwacker Festival” on Pensacola beach and I’m pretty sure that we lay claim to it’s invention or at least to it’s exalted worshiping festival status. Imagine with me if you will a crowd of drunken tourists puking all over the beach.

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  4. I think this is one where you oughtn’t blame Demon Rum so much as – Miss Janey’s quite right – the dangerous addition of dairy into the mix.And don’t feel too badly; to this day, I don’t dare walk into one of New York’s more venerable <>boites<>, the lingering result of too many cosmos (<>long<> before that Bushnell woman), a singer’s poor rendition of “Strangers in the Night”, and my ex-wife’s Edie Sedgwick impression. And therein, you can imagine, lies a tale.

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  5. Oh, honey. Been there, done that, vowed never to do it again, then returned all too soon. I feel your pain. I will say this much for (semi) sobriety: I don’t miss those mornings after!

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