The Carnival Corpse Reviver

3/4 oz. Brandy

3/4 oz. Applejack

3/4 oz. Sweet Vermouth

Serve nostalgically

It looked something like I remembered. Not entirely the same, but still recognizable. How could I ever forget? Four years of walking those paths and climbing those steps, four years of late nights and early mornings, Dartmouth was singed upon my mind indelibly.

But, in many ways, it was not the school I attended. There were fewer collars, fewer natural fabrics, and more women. Two out of those three are less than desirable – I’ll leave you to judge which. Ultimately, though, my Dartmouth died a long time ago. Or so I thought.

I debated not even going back to the old house – how on earth could it live up to the times I had there. And further, would it even be the house that had both given so much to me and taken so much away? I had my doubts. Stepping inside, though, I was immediately taken with the familiar smells and sounds. And yet, the games they played were different, the way they spoke changed, their appearances altered. Despite this, I insinuated myself into the scene, and was welcomed like any other former member: with open arms. Though the milieu might have changed, the values did not. And neither did the drink – the classic Carnival Corpse Reviver. A one off, for that most “Dartmouth” of weekends, it was my favourite as an undergrad and I had hoped desperately to taste it again. To say I tasted it would be an egregious understatement. By the end of that night, all the memories came rushing back. It wasn’t that different, after all

What is it that Eliot said? That the end of our exploring will be when we come to our original point and know it for the first time? If so, then I’m nowhere near done with my exploring.

— Benjamin M. Riley