Mixology: Cairpirinha
By Horace Q. Lazarus, M.D. | Sunday, April 6, 2008
1⁄2 Fresh lime cut into wedges
2 teaspoons sugar
Cachaça
Place lime and sugar into rocks glass and muddle using a wooden spoon. Fill glass with crushed ice and Cachaça.
Place lime and sugar into rocks glass and muddle using a wooden spoon. Fill glass with crushed ice and Cachaça.
I had been sent to the Brazilian countryside as an ophthalmology resident to perform corrective Strabismus surgeries. Strabismus, better known as crossed, squint- or turned-eye, is caused by the malfunction of one or more of the six muscles that control the eye. The condition is fairly common among children, but because of their adaptability they generally experience unaffected vision.
This particular rural, Brazilian village had what you might call a Strabismus epidemic. It seemed every third child had his head cocked to one side or the other in compensation. No one was quite sure what caused such a localized profusion of cases, but it had apparently been going on for a long time. And while these children had been and would be just fine without the surgery, it was an ideal proving ground for a burgeoning eye surgeon.
After a long first day of surgeries at the local clinic, I retreated to my host-family’s home dog tired and hungrier than hell. We sat down to an outdoor dinner at 5 p.m. and, I swear, we didn’t finish dessert until half past 10 at night. We ate and ate, and talked and talked, and then we ate and talked some more. The whole time, Anna Lucia, my host mother, was preparing me Caipirinhas, plucking the limes right from the tree we were dining under. After the meal was over, I excused myself and set off for my quarters, expecting a sound night’s sleep. As I wobbled past the mirror above my bed, I caught a glimpse of what looked like my face, only blurrier, and, after trying to focus, let out a shriek. I had gone cross-eyed! I had spent all day repairing defective ocular muscles only to be betrayed by my own. I was shocked, flabbergasted, bowled over, dumbfounded and perplexed. Promptly thereafter, I passed out.
The next day, Anna Lucia asked me why I had screamed the night before. Having sobered up and realized I was not, in fact, cross-eyed, I stuttered out that I had thought I saw a mouse in my closet. She shrugged off my nervous answer and offered me a Caipirinha with fresh limes. I respectfully declined.
|
