Pretension is a difficult umbrella to drink under. Normally its a regular drink and I’m on my way, but I felt obliged to to order three mugs of the damned nightly special for the Governor, zee Kaimmer and I. Spiced apple cider with aged Bourbon, about a 3:1 ratio. Not exactly one to put hair on your chest, in fact, it’s designed to do the opposite–an Autumn Sweater, cozy and amiable, a Golden Lab pup of a drink.
The Red Light, however, had a bit of a schmooze over the establishment. Smoothed dark-wood table tops, a quirky rat-tailed bartender, and a flock of intellectuals were scattered about the place. Nice to look at, but not exactly my jig. What is it about pretension that draws us in, but leaves us completely hollow on the inside, the dichotomy of this behavior, or mood, that is desirable to be a part of, as if you are augmented from the miscreants, the filth of everyday society, but is also just so false in every facet or aspect of its existence. Learn to see through the gauze. Anyways, I won’t get hung up on the drapes, let’s drink.
- 3 Jiggers of your best hot cider
- 1 Jigger of your oldest Bourbon
(Drink measurements are found on the page labeled as so)
What do you think? Do you like the drink? Do you prefer snooty places or divey? We all have our preference, don’t hesitate to share.