Hemingway did it better
Alright, I made it one year with Angler’s Tonic without mentioning Hemingway or bringing him into the drink equation But, hey, summer is almost gone. And it’s hot today. I feel like a cool, sweet drink, which is rare. Bring on the mojito, one of Hemingway’s favorites.
This thing is supposed to be made with fresh mint sprigs, lime juice, simple syrup, and real lime wedges. But I needed something quick and didn’t have time to invest in the real thing. Got to get rolling to Denver in the a.m. So, I bought this prefab mojito mix that, I’m afraid to tell you, absolutely sucks. Stuff tastes like zebra urine. I take a sip and the Bacardi can’t even confuse the senses. My face wrinkles, eyes spin, goose bumps raise on my arms, and my tongue twists. I’m now spitting at Major League pace. This is not an inspirational trip back to Mexico, let me tell you that.
But I bet the real thing is good. I’ve heard so. Hemingway loved these things. And, by all accounts, he sucked down a lot of them in Havana, Cuba, back in the day when Havana was solid, U.S. citizens didn’t have to sneak into the country, and the bonefish, permit and tarpon were nothing less than stupid.
Ah, I think there was a time we missed when things were better. People were cool and lived well and hard, didn’t care about what inferior human beings thought, took care of their responsibilities and raised solid kids. You could trust friends. Problems? Hemingway and his generation took care of it on their own and kept people in check. They didn’t ask for a bailout, wouldn’t have accepted it if it were handed to them on a silver platter. So, what happened? Maybe we just stopped drinking real mojitos and it all fell apart, started reading Sedaris and forgot about Hemingway. Now it’s about feelings and little about pride. And right now, I’m feeling like prefab mohitos suck. Off to the grocery for a Guinness.