No, it’s not the beating of a hideous heart you hear, but rather the glugging of delicious Bloody Marys. As it turns out, no less than the great Vincent Price was a huge fan of the drink, which (at least according to his cookbook A Treasury of Great Recipes) he particularly enjoyed before lunch, while contemplating the ferns in his garden.
Since it is nearly January and we find ourselves in the midwest, there are few–if any–ferns for us to contemplate, but the intrepid gastrognome and I decided to try out Mr. Price’s recipe none-the-less.
Enjoying several apparently leads to unsteady photography.
It has a slightly higher ratio of vodka, lemon juice and black pepper than versions of the drink that I’ve seen and made before. I approve. The gastrognome approves. Indeed, this beverage is… (cue spooky music) most amusing.
Mr. Price was truly a Renaissance man, which makes it apropos that it should be you following in in libation laden footsteps (cue creaky stair).
I’m sad to report I have never had a Bloody Mary. Perhaps we should have a category devoted to drinks? I shall be glad to peruse my bar guide from the late thirties and resurrect concoctions for consumption…
Anything with a higher ratio of vodka is a winner in my book.
I demand a return to brunch cocktails. I severely dislike having even a pang of guilt when I have one of these, a beer, or even a martini on a weekend brunch. I’d never have more than one.
Never. More?