Stay Calm, Put Out the Fires of Life With Berry Mint Sour
You are moving to a new city, to a new country. You’ve found an apartment at the right price, in the right area, and after showing your best, most grown-up, and most polite set of manners, you’ve duly endeared yourself to the house manager. The place is yours. In your first year, you labor lovingly in every room, every corner, every nook and cranny. In impulses of manic inspiration, you glue the wallpaper and grab the tiles in the bathroom with a toothbrush. You spend an obscene amount of money on a sofa and set up bookshelves. You place the bed in three different rooms before finally realizing that the first room was the best. You buy the first wave of plants you kill. You are making a home.
Then, one early morning, you hear the hammering of hammers and the voices of the builders, who speak in staccato SHOUTS. Something is wrong. Suddenly, debris appears everywhere in the lobby, which literally spreads like a mist of poisonous gas throughout the building. Finally, the building manager informs you that the landlord is doing some minor renovations in the basement and the project won’t take more than a few months.
Six years later, the project isn’t even close to being finished. After collapsed ceilings, countless power outages, water outages, internet outages that only seem to happen when you’re in the middle of work, and fire alarms that go off for no reason and no one seems to know how turn it off. , which are so loud that your dog is deaf … after all this, you get a notification: you must move out at the end of the lease. You have rather unceremoniously turned into a statistic – you have been “retooled”. Refurbished. Like Brangelina or Bennifer, only this nomenclature du jour couple is aided by a landlord (in your case, a billionaire failson with a giant chip on his shoulder and proving something to daddy) and a legal loophole but, unlike celebrity mating, no one seems to care.
So, you find a new place in the face of time pressure and coercion. That’s double what you paid because the city you live in, once known for affordable rents and therefore a mecca for artists, is now going through an unprecedented housing crisis. Rents are at an all-time high. But nothing, there is air conditioning! And two toilets! And a big kitchen with an island! All the meals you cook instead of ordering from UberEats will likely cover at least a third of the rent. It’s worth it.
During the first three days, the washing machine breaks down. Then the microwave. Then you discover a leak under the kitchen sink. As you unpack the boxes, you see shadows moving across the floor. You are not hallucinating. There are mice. For example, a lot of mice. The air conditioner starts to groan and then spews black water onto the walls and floor before giving up completely. In the middle of the heat You have lived in this apartment for less than two weeks.
There is a cocktail for every occasion. Sitting at the kitchen table in the heat, with my feet on my knees surreptitiously to avoid bumping into some critters on the dash, I don’t even allow myself to consider what other disasters might be on the way, lest they inadvertently manifest into existence. As for the right cocktail* for now* I need a reliable and damn refreshing drink.
Sour is mercifully reliable. So I make a version with berries, mint and gin. Berries because I forgot I bought them and they are about to go bad. Mint, because the cooling effect of menthol is very necessary. Jin because he does what he has to do and doesn’t gaslight me as my landlord. I’m shocked because I have a lot of pent-up frustration that will help make the drink dazzlingly delicious. I bet even the mice will love it.
* a glass of mezcal with a plate of salted lime wedges also alternated.
Robust, refreshing sour
- 3-4 berries (I have strawberries or raspberries)
- Handful of mint leaves
- 2 oz gin
- 1 ounce fresh lime juice or ¾ ounce fresh lemon juice
- ¾ oz. simple syrup
Put the coupe in the freezer to chill. Gently squeeze the mint leaves in your hand before placing them in the shaker. Add berries and stir quickly. Add other ingredients and fill shaker with ice. Shake for about 12-16 seconds and strain into chilled coupe. Raise your glass and say thank you that at least the tub is working, but not before making sure there is something wooden nearby that you can tap on. Drink immediately, exhale. Repeat as needed – just remember to drink water.