Tequila Mockingbird (5 page)

Sugar, for cocktail rim (
page 7
)

1½ ounces vodka

1 ounce sour apple schnapps

½ ounce lime juice

½ teaspoon granulated sugar

Rim a chilled cocktail glass in sugar and set aside. Shake the ingredients with ice and strain into the glass. You don't need a man to enjoy life's splendors, but prepare to pucker up after a sip of this sour sauce.

K
eep a legend around long enough and it eventually comes (
ahem
) back into style. Such is the case with
The Joy of Sex
, a cheeky (literally) seventies how-to guide that was modeled after cookbooks, subbing out ears of corn with ears of people. The original pencil drawings—featuring shaggy-haired, mustached men exchanging coital maneuvers with what appeared to be a grown-up Marcia Brady—have in recent years been expanded upon, fully fleshed out, and updated with all new terms (now introducing: STDs!). Bottom line? This book took the science out of sex and injected it with feel-great fun. Here, we offer our own position on the standby cocktail. Have a ball—and do sip safe.

2 ounces pineapple juice

1 ounce vodka

1 ounce peach schnapps

1 (12-ounce) can lemon-lime soda

Combine the pineapple juice, vodka, and schnapps in a shaker with ice. Shake well and strain over fresh ice in a highball glass. Fill to the top with the lemon-lime soda. Alternatively? Combine the ingredients, freeze in an ice cube tray, and then add a hot partner to the mix.

T
ake two parts Ren Faire and one part Greek mythology, add a liberal dash of forest-dwelling nymphs, and you've got Shakespeare's whimsical meditation on love and lunacy. An amateur might toast this oft-produced play with two melatonin and a gulp of cough syrup, but Lord, only a foolish mortal would try that—this is a dream, not a blackout. You'll want to stay upright, if drowsily so, for a light, vegetation-heavy drink that will keep you skimming all five acts before a proper fairy-blessed slumber. You might just wake up in love.

8 sprigs fresh mint, washed

½ ounce lime juice

2 teaspoons granulated sugar

2 ounces bourbon (like Jim Beam)

1 (12-ounce) can club soda

Muddle the mint, lime juice, and sugar in a highball glass. Add ice and bourbon, and fill to the top with the club soda. Sip to your imagination's content—stopping only if your shadow begins to speak.

N
either snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night can keep two scheming lovers apart. In James M. Cain's noir novella, a drifter falls hard for a local lass with a dangerous pout and a body for sin. Trouble is, the drifter's new boss happens to be his new girlfriend's current
husband
, dubbed The Greek. You'll go postal for two-timing murders, killer dialogue, and S&M chatter that can still steam up an e-reader screen. Pair it with our bubbly Greek cocktail and you've got yourself a first-class package.

1 ounce ouzo

1 (12-ounce) can cola

Pour the ouzo over ice in a highball glass and fill to the top with the cola. Yes, those
are
bells you're hearing.

I
f at first you don't succeed, try submitting your 1.5-million-word manuscript again. Such was the fate of Proust's monumental seven-volume novel (which might as well have been called
Remembrance of Literally Everything Past
), initially rejected by publishers who are now kicking themselves in the grave. A thoughtful exploration on the tricky nature of time-telling, one passage has gained particular fame: Proust's narrator describes his sudden transportation back to childhood after tasting a madeleine soaked in tea. Take a journey to simpler times with a delicate summer drink that'll have you recalling your first secret sips of beer. And pair this drink with as many cookies as your memory demands.

6 ounces iced tea (Earl Grey is best)

1 (12-ounce) can beer (like Pabst Blue Ribbon)

1 lemon wedge, for garnish

Pour the iced tea into a pint glass and fill to the top with the beer, squeezing and dropping the lemon wedge into the glass. Now, kick back on a hammock, toss back a few madeleines, and pull out those old journals—or start a new one. (Beginner bloggers, just remember: the Internet is forever.)

S
o what constitutes a classic, anyway?
We
say anything that gets people reading, sharing, and, in the case of
Bridget Jones's Diary
—a British smash turned international vacation read turned swoon-worthy movie—belly laughing. Reading just like your own diary, only with double the cigarettes and half the men (we're being nice), Bridget tells her
Pride and Prejudice
–inspired tale as a thirty-something singleton on the prototypical quest for real love—and a smaller dress size. With a nod to her ongoing list of New Year's resolutions, we go bubbly with a relatively low-cal daiquiri that even Bridget would enjoy. Do your duty and have one for her.

½ cup large, fresh strawberries (about 4), washed

1½ ounces Champagne

½ ounce lemon juice

½ teaspoon granulated sugar

Remove the greens from the strawberries—this is a drink, not a
salad
—and combine them in a blender with the Champagne, lemon juice, sugar, and a handful of ice. Blend until smooth and serve in a cocktail glass. And now? Take a sip of courage and let's finally create that online dating profile.

W
ith the play's original title sounding like Shakespearean surfer slang—
The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet
—this melancholy romance is for anyone who has fallen in love with the hot boy from the other side of the tracks. Who
can't
relate to the star-crossed lovers, doomed from the start by parents who, like, just don't understand? With a tragic, poisonous finale, this historic work created the mold, inspiring not only adaptations (
West Side Story
is just
R and J
with Puerto Rican accents and jazz hands), but also an entire road map for young-love stories. Fall under the spell of a drink so spring-like and peach-fuzzy, you might be forgiven for not realizing its full effects.

6 sprigs fresh mint, washed

1 teaspoon light brown sugar

½ ounce peach schnapps

1½ ounces bourbon

1 (12-ounce) can lemon-lime soda

In a highball glass, muddle the mint, sugar, and schnapps until the sugar dissolves like a relationship over summer break. Add ice and bourbon, and fill to the top with the lemon-lime soda. Prepare to fall in love—fast.

B
elieve it or not, kiddos, there was a time when having a child out of wedlock wouldn't get you a reality show, but instead, a very public haranguing. In Hawthorne's
Scarlet Letter
—named after the “A for adultery” badge of dishonor the leading lady has to wear after birthing a bastard—Puritan New England serves as the case study of a world at odds with religion, hypocrisy, and desire. We push a drink purist's envelope by popping a few cherries (hey, now!) into a sweet and sour standby. This sidecar's so tasty, you might end up parading through town afterward, just like the heroine herself. Have no shame: this baby's all yours.

Sugar, for cocktail rim (
page 7
)

1 ounce cherry juice

½ ounce brandy

½ ounce triple sec

Rim a chilled cocktail glass in sugar and place aside. Shake the ingredients with ice and strain into the glass. You'll give this one a grade A.