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

the philadelphia story

Orange juice, certainly.


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


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.


Oh, a little.


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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