First of all, there’s no such thing you misogynistic douche canoe. Secondly, I’m sorry for calling you a douche canoe, but seriously a girl drink is whatever a girl is drinking. Which is kind of why I’m launching this new department and staffing it with a collection of Literary Criticism grads with a solid month of threefer Wordle scores and withering deadpan stares. We need to turn this rudderless ship of gender taxonomy attached to cocktails. Like now. So welcome to Girl Drinks, where we explore exceptional cocktails made with American Whiskies and, as often as possible, ingredients sourced from the good ole You Ess of Ay.
It’s going to be simple: nothing but girl drinks
One paragraph explaining what the hell is going on. (See above.) Because we don’t think you need a lot of verbiage. You know when you were looking for a decent recipe for Broccoli and Cauliflower bake and you eventually threw your laptop across the room because you could never get to the fucking recipe? We don’t do that. Here is the first recipe for Girl Drinks.
Then a recipe for a girl drink like: “Fuck Bagpipes”
This one here is our flagship martini. This is what we drink around the office. It’s based on a Rob Roy but all the ingredients are fastidiously sourced from within the continental U.S. Enjoy. If you want more classic Scotch drinks reimagined with American Single malt, check out this article at Advanced Mixology.
Fuck Bagpipes
Ingredients
- 2 oz Corsair Triple Smoked American Single Malt Whiskey
- 1 oz Quady’s Vya Sweet Vermouth
- 2 dashes Jack Rudy, or Hella Aromatic Bitters.
- orange peel curl
- Bagpipes
- a 1966 Chevy Impala
Make it like this:
- Chill a fucking martini glass, a coupe
- Add all ingredients to a tumbler filled with ice; stir until it’s cold as a Bagpipist’s sense of humor
- Strain into that chilled glass
- Garnish with the orange peel which you curled around the mouthpiece of the bagpipes after you ran over them with the 1966 Chevy Impala drop-top while listening to a dirty blues song.
Trying to get rid of my bagpipes when no one would buy them: I put them in the front seat of my car with the windows down and the doors unlocked in the mall parking lot. When I returned there were four more bagpipes in the car.
The dad-joke cred is strong with this one . . .
Bagpipes are made for rock ‘n roll music. A CD of Seven Nations, a glass of good sipping whiskey; it’s heaven for women like me.
Bagpipes are made for kindling, though I concur with your choice of music and I can only hope the whiskey is a fierce but studious rye.