People are funny when it comes to describing what their vision of heaven is. For some, it’s the proverbial pearly gates, angels cooing, trumpets blaring. For others, it’s whatever their personal vision of what peace and tranquility might be -- maybe a seductive, secluded beach or perhaps an inspiring and cooling mountain lake. My sense is a bit different. For me, it’s an eternal Mojito Challenge of the type just served up here in Charleston, just as it is every year when one’s thoughts turn to tropical drinks.
This year’s affair was set at the Charleston Aquarium, a brilliant choice for a venue when you think about it: a fabulous array of all things aquatic from sharks to snakes to seahorses to jellyfish and all things in between. Plus, the totally pleasurable option of the outside verandas where one can seek refuge from the teeming and wonderfully boisterous crowds who have come to share in the exact pursuit that brought you here -- the perfect mojito. What was once a simple and pleasing concoction of rum, simple syrup and some muddled mint now becomes a feverish (and highly entertaining) smack down among the city’s best bartenders to catch that special edge that will earn them the much sought after bragging rights of the best mojito maker in town.
And, make no mistake about it, these combatants will go to considerable lengths to get your attention. No fruit is left unexplored. You have your strawberry, kiwi, peach, watermelon, passion fruit, and banana, naturally. But, have you wondered what your mojito might taste like with a shot of elderberry, rosemary, cucumber, agave, dragonfruit, or --perhaps most exotic of all -- the yuzu? the yuzu? You know -- a Japanese fruit somewhat resembling the grapefruit. Somewhat. Introduce into this sublime ocean of vitamin C some ginger, a tannic lime meringue, or a poblano infused simple syrup or a simple splash of vanilla and you begin to see how demonic the pursuit of a prize winner can be. No stone is left unturned; no essence is left unexplored.
I concede my judgment may have become a bit clouded after sampling 14 different concoctions. My recollection is that they were all good. Some too sweet. Some too obviously gimmicky. Some bearing absolutely no resemblance to the mojito that inspired this event. But, what a fabulous evening.
Oh. The winner? A zesty concoction from “Coast,” a restaurant that has experienced more than its share of success at this event in the past. This year’s entry: a potion of strawberry, rhubarb and rosemary and -- the clincher -- a shot of strawberry pop rocks thrown in at the last moment that effervesce up your nose for a most memorable and sensory mojito experience. Ta da!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Enter Mojo
It was a difficult start. I mean, just imagine: you are separated from your family and friends; you are put to sleep and then awaken only to find that your balls have been cut off; you are in considerable pain; people come to greet you who are total strangers, but who act like they know you; you are whisked off to a strange place; you poop on the floor. Is this not the bottom, or what? And, so it was with Mojo the newest member of our family. Hello!
We should have seen it coming, but the next morning we saw a new dog: tail wagging, plainly happy to see us, eager to get outside to relieve himself there rather than re-enact his performance of the evening before. And, brandishing a furious appetite like any self-respecting lab puppy. We take him to the beach where he freaks out (although not really in a bad way) at the wave action at the shoreline, leaping straight up in the air as if the waves were electrically charged. Forty-eight hours later he is leaping into the waves, again, like any self-respecting lab. He is as black as night, his coat as shiny as a penguin’s. we are told he was thrown out of a car in the back roads of south carolina only to be rescued by a near-by hunter who sees this and who swoops him up and takes him to the local vet. He is fostered by a family and named Miller after the vet who saved him from a bout with parvo, deadly to most puppies.
A word on his name. No, he is not named as a cutsey salute to Austin Powers. Mojo is a throwback to old slave jargon meaning “black magic.” knowing what this little guy has been through, who can argue with that?
We should have seen it coming, but the next morning we saw a new dog: tail wagging, plainly happy to see us, eager to get outside to relieve himself there rather than re-enact his performance of the evening before. And, brandishing a furious appetite like any self-respecting lab puppy. We take him to the beach where he freaks out (although not really in a bad way) at the wave action at the shoreline, leaping straight up in the air as if the waves were electrically charged. Forty-eight hours later he is leaping into the waves, again, like any self-respecting lab. He is as black as night, his coat as shiny as a penguin’s. we are told he was thrown out of a car in the back roads of south carolina only to be rescued by a near-by hunter who sees this and who swoops him up and takes him to the local vet. He is fostered by a family and named Miller after the vet who saved him from a bout with parvo, deadly to most puppies.
A word on his name. No, he is not named as a cutsey salute to Austin Powers. Mojo is a throwback to old slave jargon meaning “black magic.” knowing what this little guy has been through, who can argue with that?
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