This author’s favorite pick-me-up, courtesy of The Philadelphia Story

the philadelphia story
Dexter:

Orange juice, certainly.

Tracy:

Don’t tell me you’ve forsaken your beloved whiskey and whiskeys.

Dexter:

No, no, no, no. I’ve just changed their color, that’s all. I’m going for the pale pastel shades now. They’re more becoming to me. How about you, Mr. Connor? You drink, don’t you? Alcohol, I mean.

Mike:

Oh, a little.

Dexter:

A little, ‘little.’ And you a writer? …

The first hard drink I ever had was a Whiskey Sour in Palm Springs. I was sixteen, grounded, everyone was out, I was watching the movie mentioned above, and feeling experimental. There were lemons and oranges hanging from the trees, and a dogeared book on cocktails was conveniently located in the kitchen cupboard. So this is what I concocted…

Fill a cocktail shaker with crushed ice (place ice cubes in towel and whack with a hammer – marvelous thing to dispel teenage angst). Squeeze 1/2 of a lemon and 1 orange over the ice. Add one tablespoon brown sugar. Pour in one shot of whiskey. Shake! And shake some more. Strain into a nice tumbler and go sit outside and glower at the starlit sky while you sip.

I think I drank about half my drink — a habit I carry to this day — but I remember sleeping shortly afterwards like every care in the world had drifted away in the velvety dark night of the desert…

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