The case of the Sazerac

This is a Sazerac.


For the uninitiated, a Sazerac is an alcoholic beverage with the following ingredients: Rye whiskey, bitters, simple syrup, absinthe, and a lemon peel garnish.

Well isn’t that neat. I’m an alcoholic. I’m not a drinker. Honestly, this drink sounds delicious and perfect for sending my mind on a journey of cosmic horror ending in either bruises or handcuffs. Or both. Why the hell am I posting on my blog about a fucking drink? Answer: I live vicariously through the protagonist of a novel I’m writing and he just so happens to really dig fancy drinks like this but I had no idea what the names of mixed drinks were called, so I googled it.

I have to say, reading all the ingredients that go into these drinks makes me slightly envious of those with the self-control to be able to enjoy them without losing their minds like the characters in H.P. Lovecraft’s stories. For those like me, we have to treat this shit like Kryptonite, or like the glowing shard of space rock that fell in the garden last week that hatched a radioactive worm that ate all the vegetables and killed the neighbors dachshund and now follows you, waiting to sink its teeth into your asshole while your guard is down.

Long gone are the romantic ideations of the alcoholic writer. These days I am privy to one particular drink that tops them all:



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