It was here that Peggy surrendered to her lover. And here it was that after a proper and reasonable time spent in the due dalliance due to such occasion, she mixed for him this most delightful of all drinks in order that he might face with proper spirit her bluff old father’s temporary ire at the loss of his daughter. Just as the right proportions of bitters, root wine, and mellowest of old whiskey had been put to cook in a glass half-full of bits of purest ice, an interruption occurred, and the clarion voice of the brave old warrior bird was heard as if in celebration of the momentous event which had happened under his very eyes. As he plumed and shook himself after his effort, one of his royal tail feathers floated gently down towards his mistress.
“Lightning names the drink!” she cried, and she seized the feather and with it deftly stirred the glass’s contents. And again, with a sweeping curtsey, holding the glass aloft:
“Drink this Cocktail, sir, to your success with my father, and as a pledge to our future happiness!”
As I mentioned in my review of The Cocktail Book, the introduction tells a very funny story about how the word ‘cocktail’ came to be. The story is told with a distinctive tone of amusement and clearly with the flavour of a fairy tell, which makes me doubt the author really intended it to be a true story. It is fun to read, though, and it has a very strange, antiquated style that I find strangely appealing.
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