I looked through the drinks menu at the Symphony bar. There was “Irish cream,” which sounded Christmassy (no doubt due to some late 1970’s ad campaign).
I was served some Five Farms Irish Cream, and I steeled myself for a slug of dessert followed by a shuddering turpentine finish of whiskey. That’s how Baileys and Godiva Irish Creams taste to me.
This, though, was delectable.
I saw them open the bottle, and they didn’t shake it as I would have, so I thought perhaps all the alcohol was at the bottom.
On a whim I bought my own bottle last weekend. I shook it vigorously, poured it into a tumbler, and it was heaven. Only one of the twenty sips had a slight note of alcohol.
I haven’t had a Vodka Gimlet Like a Grownup for months now. I seem to be regressing to my alcohol childhood.