It has been brought to my attention that we don’t change our drink recipes quite often enough. This may be because we like to do things with a bit more panache than the other guys. There are countless sources which can turn any neophyte with a cocktail shaker into an overnight bartender. But there a very few sources of proper mixology that include the colorful anecdotes and life changing insights that are attached to each and every one of our officially  certified recipes.

That’s one possible explanation.

The other is that we are inattentive, irresponsible, lackadaisical and just plain slapdash about the whole damn affair.

Whichever explanation you choose, here is a short tale and hearty recipe to carry you through those chilly winter evenings. 

THE BULL SHOT


My introduction to this meal in a glass was during a frosty February afternoon in New York City many years ago. I had provided transportation into Manhattan to some friends who were attending a ballet which I opted out of. So while they were enjoying the comfy seats at Lincoln Center, I went off in search of a good tavern. Sadly, I must admit with all due respect and appreciation of Mikhail’s undeniable talent, when faced with the choice of Baryshnikov or a barstool, the latter won out.

My wanderings through the cold urban canyons transported me to, what is arguably one of the best bars on the continent, P. J. Clarke’s on Third Avenue. Now I could go on for another thousand words venerating the joint; but I’ll save that literary undertaking for another time. Anyway, I stepped up to the bar, and the bartender realizing my distress with the elements said in a fine Dublin brogue, “Lad can I fix you a little something special to warm your weary bones?” I gladly deferred to his superior judgment.