So back in the summer of 2016, my German wife and I flew to Portland for a nice, long vacation. We visited our dearest friends and family members, bought some refreshingly affordable jeans (good jeans are crazy expensive in Germany), and indulged in fine food and strong drink — especially the drink part.
See, I may or may not have gone ballistic and pounded every single alcoholic beverage set in front of me like a thirsty pirate. We’ll never know for sure, because it’s your word against mine, and I can’t remember because I was blacked out at the time. But one thing I most certainly do remember, was sitting in my parent’s living room, enjoying a nice, quiet, holiday evening, and then taking it upon myself to mix the greatest and most innovative cocktail ever conceived by the human mind.
I took a large glass tumbler from the shelf, filled it halfway with Amarula cream liqueur, added a few shots of Rémy Martin VSOP cognac, threw a couple ice cubes at it and brought everything home with a healthy dose of Crème de menthe. I stirred that shit up, gave it a try, and loved it. It tasted like creamy heaven with a pimp slap aftertaste. Like taking a shot in the mouth from a hot and bothered unicorn. It was magical. (Now, I might have been drinking for a while before all this went down — thus hindering my otherwise impeccable taste sensibilities — but that’s totally irrelevant because it does not support the argument I’m trying to make right now.)
Anyway, I took another sip of this brand new ambrosial concoction, turned to my family and declared myself the greatest natural bartender of all time. “Check it out, you guys!” I said, bringing the glass over. “I just invented this new drink. It’s incredible. I think I’ll call it, “The Uppity Leprechaun.”
“That looks… interesting,” said my father.
“Gross,” said my mother.
Then I showed my wife, who flipped the page of her magazine, continued reading and said…
“That looks awful. And you know, the eye eats with you.”*
*From the German expression, “Das Auge isst (oder trinkt) mit,” which translates literally to, “The eye eats (or drinks) with you,” but more figuratively means, “Food or drink should look good too, not just taste good.” Or, as was the case with the short-lived success of The Uppity Leprechaun: “A drink should not look and taste like absolute dog shit.”