have I ever said the words, “Honey, did you see where I put the coconut cream?”? Never. Not while making a drink, anyway. ¶ It’s a delicious tradition Cary and I have created, and the drinks themselves are beautiful just to look at. But it’s harder than I thought it would be to make them. Squeezing a dozen fresh limes by hand becomes wearying, and capturing fennel pollen—even with my tiny pollen net—is a real challenge. And muddling. Muddling! Until Cary gave me a muddler, I was crushing green tomatoes with a spoon. Not advisable. But itthree? I’m still not sure. And precision is important in this line of work: If you’re off by just a little bit, the whole delicate balance can fall apart. That’s why Cary’s drinks are better than mine, I think: He can do fractions. ¶ So I take it all back. I respect the hell out of mixologists now. Cereologists are still on iffy terrain.
