The Bloody Mary
The Barfly here. Still standing. How about you? Did you have a quiet, respectable time? I bloody well hope not.
I’m Looking round at a few sheepish faces and hangdog looks. Maybe you are too. Maybe you’re wearing one!
Never fear. Help is at hand.
You’re not dying, you just need a Bloody Mary. A good one.
We’re not going to get all Nanny State on you over this most beloved of restoratives. Tastes vary. Some say more vodka; some say no horseradish. If you are one of those, by the way, who say “No!” to horseradish, I will judge you harshly but will still refuse to tell you what to do with your Bloody Mary. I merely share with you my method and leave you to decide whether or not to go back to your obviously inferior version. I’m of the opinion that it’s the addition of the port that takes mine to the top of the pile.
Back at the turn of the Millennium, the festivities at Traquair House, the grand ancestral home in the Scottish Borders were concluded with Bloody Marys and blackpudding rolls for everyone in the district, courtesy of the Lady of the House. The kind of alms we heartily approve of.
You may also be familiar with the Virgin Mary: a Bloody Mary with no alcohol. It is a good joke: it is a bad drink. Our Australian cousins, their larrikin sense of humour still intact despite what we did to them at cricket, have a much better name for a Bloody Mary with no booze. They call it A Bloody Shame.
You Will Need…
2 shots vodka
5 shots fresh tomato juice
half shot freshly squeezed lemon juice
8 drops Tabasco sauce
8 drops Worcestershire sauce
half spoon horseradish sauce
half shot port
1 pinch celery salt
1 pinch garlic salt
2 pinches black pepper
Method: Shake all the ingredients with ice and strain into a glass full of ice.
Glass: Collins (That, mein host, is the tall one)
Garnish: Stick of celery