Barrett's Mixology

By Nicholas Desai | Sunday, June 12, 2005

Rob Roy

3 oz. single malt Scotch whiskey
1 oz. dry vermouth

Build over ice in a rocks glass. Start with the scotch. Then, cast the vermouth onto the dusty ground as an offering to God. Strain into a pre-chilled glass and garnish with a twist.

Due to some impolitic remarks I made one time to someone about something, I was sentenced to undertake a three-day vision quest in the pine barrens of New Jersey, so as to increase my "sensitivity" to "others." How being trapped in a ten foot circle without food or shelter for seventy-two hours would better my social skills I couldn't figure, but I was fresh out of College and under contract to this company, which had recently seen the wisdom of employing a more "muscular" form of diversity training. They showed me an introductory video featuring a shaman (who bore an undeniable resemblance to Willie Nelson, both in appearance and speech) assuring me that there was no danger, that I would probably converse with my Creator, and I might even lose some flab around the midsection. The Diversity Coordinator drove me to a remote stretch of road and then prodded me blindfolded down past a gully toward a flat hollow. A puddle of dew, a flint, a steel blade and my wits were my only companions.

For the first twelve hours, I was hungry; the next twelve, hungry and tired; the third, hungry, tired, wet, cold and angry. Then I had my vision. It started as a radiant yet discrete point of light which grew in size and intensity, but as it moved closer I saw that it was instead a host of lights resting atop a floating surface. A choir? But no, the figures were not people but bottles. Soon, this vision floated adjacent to my weary head, and I reached out to mix the first drink that came to mind. The scotch was precisely poured, but as I endeavored to pour the phantasmagorical vermouth into the mix, I hesitated, for I suddenly, viscerally sensed that this act would be the embodiment of out-and-out, unadulterated evil. Remembering that 'libation' meant both an intoxicating beverage imbibed and an offering made to the divine, I decided to attempt the latter. My vision complete, I wandered back to company HQ where I regaled them with a cock-and-bull tale of my having communed with the spirit of Rigoberta Menchu. They forthrightly offered me the position of new Diversity Coordinator, an office that I continue to this day to execute with pride, efficiency and the fully-stocked bar of my dreams within arms reach of my ergonomic, leather office chair.

Barrett's Mixology

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