The other day when writing about the vanishing cocktail lounge, I noted a drink that Lesley M. M. Blume had talked about called the Godmother. It is to be imbibed with a list of wishes one hopes will be granted. It's a simple recipe -- equal parts of vodka and amaretto stirred (not shaken) with ice. I decided to try it last night.
Vodka is never a problem at my house, but the amaretto was. First I had to dig it out from the back of the liquor cabinet. The dust on the bottle indicated how long it had sat there unused. After wiping it down, I found I couldn't unscrew the cap. I ended up running hot water over the neck of the bottle until it would finally budge. That should have been a hint.
I poured an ounce of each over ice, stirred conscientiously, strained the result into one of my small, round, old-fashioned champagne glasses, and took a sip. And about gagged. It was so sweet I could feel my teeth rotting. Did I say sweet? A dash of lemon juice took the edge off and I was able to choke it down, but I won't be doing that again.
I hope my fairy godmother grants my wish -- never to have to drink anything like that again.
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