In Search of New England's Classic Cocktail
None of my drinks found greatness–but none was horrible. (I poured only two down the kitchen sink.) And after a couple of weeks of near-misses–I got close with a blueberry shrub, rum, and apple brandy–it occurred to me that the looking was more important than the finding. It’s like what people said about the Red Sox: The anticipation of winning the World Series was more enjoyable than actually winning. (And look what happened afterwards.)
So I’ll keep mixing and stirring, adding this and subtracting that. With any luck, I’ll fit all of New England into a glass. Or better yet, I won’t–which will keep my quest alive.