Cocktail Chat | A Critical Mixology Lesson

Every year, The Partner and I host a Pride brunch.  Most years we have about 15-25 people show up.  We cook easy brunch things, serve up the usual brunchy cocktails like Mimosas, Bloody Marys, and Screwdrivers.  This year we had two occasions to change things up and go all out.  First was our deck.  We've just finished an expansion of it that includes a fun new outdoor bar.  The other occasion was this little project we're on with the bible and the blog.  As we planned our respective menus, I decided that the usual drink fare were fine, however the morning would need something new to reflect our growing expertise in the mixological arts.  Given that the morning moves quickly and we're on a schedule to walk over to the parade by late morning, the special bev would have to be something I could mix a batch of in advance and just pour into a glass when requested.  Not wanting to experiment with something new for a party, I turned back to the blog, zeroing in on both the "Make it again, Sam" and "summer" tags for inspiration.  Everyone remember the Jasmine ("I'll have a Jaaaasssmine...")?  Seemed perfect.  It was breakfasty in its ingredients, tasted like grapefruit juice when mixed, and bonus of bonuses for the day:  IT WAS PINK! After a trip to Costco for some large scale high end ingredients (I was mixing for 40.) and a cool, spigotted dispenser, I got to work the morning of the affair.  I collected the ingredients, pulled my measuring cups, squeezed six pounds of fresh lemons.  I mixed it all together and tasted.  Now here's the lesson: unless the drink is specifically a punch, you can't just scale it up.  A simple and proportional conversion from ounces to cups simply does not work -- which is what I did.  How clever and mathematical I felt!  But when finished mixing and adding a healthy amount of ice, I didn't have a punch, I just had a cocktail of Brobdingnagian proportions.  It was amazing how something that is so delicious and refreshing in a four ounce martini glass was utterly lacerating in a twelve ounce drinking glass filled with ice. What was supposed to be a simple mixing task had now become a rescue mission.  Guests were minutes away from walking in the door and I had to find a way not to waste over $100 of perfectly good premium liquor.  Taking a moment, I breathed and with a little positive self-talk I told myself that I would not panic.

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